#scared to move that shit now. dumbass glass wires.

[creatrixanimi]

they should invent a fibre optic cable that doesnt break when you sneeze in its direction

[duuhrayliegh]

A Friend of Yours - pt. 2

pairing: bucky x reader

summary: reader meets up with Bucky, Sam and Zemo to figure out this Flag Smasher drama

word count: 6386

warnings: canon lvl violence? SPOILERS FOR TFATWS, (it’s the episodes with yn in it, like rlly) language throughout the whole thing, i think that’s it.

a/n: i’m actually really proud of this guys. there is a part three that has WAY more Bucky x YN content that’ll be posted in a few days <3 i hope y’all love this!!

i just want to remind y’all that this started out as a request from @dramaticwittch it won’t let me tag you for some reasons babes :((

be sure to read A Friend of Yours - pt 1

A Friend of Yours - pt. 3 is up too!!!

p.s.: my requests and tag lists are open!!

check out my other writing here!

xoxo ray <3

You had the same contacts as Sharon, so finding the Three Musketeers was no problem. It baffled you that Sharon had access to satellites. Makes you wonder what she was doing during those five years you were gone. When you got to their safehouse, you were impressed to say the least. It was nice, cute little pillars next to the dining area, some couches, just enough to make it livable. One thing that struck you as strange was that it was also empty, they weren’t there.

“Fuck it.” You dropped your bag onto the dining table and walked over to the kitchen area. You opened several cabinets, searching for alcohol that you could drown your frustrations in. You found an unopened wine bottle, releasing a little cheer, you popped the cork and brought the bottle to your nose. A sweet plum scent invaded your senses, grabbing a glass and pouring it full for yourself before re-corking the bottle. You grasped the cup walking to the stained glass windows on the opposite side of the room. You could hear footsteps approaching the doorway, then the door being forced open. Muffled conversations were taking place during their entrance.

“Well, I got nothin’. No one’s talkin’ about Donya.” Bucky said as he waltzed into the room. Sam followed closely behind him, Zemo immediately going to the kitchen.

“Yeah, Karli’s the only one who’s fighting for them.” You said, startling the pair of men who were now lounging on the couches. “Aren’t you supposed to be good at this?” You dropped next to Bucky, offering him a sip of your plum flavored wine.

“She’s not wrong.” Bucky shot Sam a look, questioning his thought process. “Look, for five years these people were welcomed into countries that have kept them out using barbed wire. There were houses and jobs.” Sam sighed, “Folks were happy to have people around to help them rebuild.” You stopped listening halfway through Sam’s speech, thinking of Sharon. You only refocused when Bucky placed his metal hand on your knee, giving you a look, asking if you were okay.

“That little girl. What’d she tell you?” Bucky asked after you nodded at him. His face never left yours, until Zemo approached the three of you on the couch. He was holding a tray with a clear teapot and cups. He placed it on the coffee table, stepping back and clutching a cup for himself.

“The funeral is this afternoon.” Zemo was always one for the dramatics, so you’re sure that he had something else up his sleeve. Bucky squeezed your knee and you knew he was trying to calm himself.

“You know the Dora’s coming for you any minute. In fact, they’re probably lurking outside right now. Keep talking.”

“Leaving you to turn on me once we get to Karli.” He made a noise of acknowledgement, “I prefer to keep my leverage.” Bucky hauled himself off the couch to stand in front of the Baron. You gaze flicked to Sam’s, unsure of what Bucky was going to do. Bucky puffed his chest out, clenching his jaw as he gripped Zemo’s teacup and chunked it at the concrete wall behind him. Zemo flinched as Bucky began talking to him.

“You wanna see what someone can do with leverage?” Sam stood quickly, trying to diffuse the situation before it escalated.

“Take it easy, Buck. Don’t engage him.” You were taking a drink of your wine, as you observed Zemo’s actions.

“Watch out, he’s going to extort you and do that idiotic head tilt thing.” Zemo’s eyes darted to your figure on the couch as he straightened his head. Sam left to make a call, you assumed Sharon and Bucky followed closely behind him. Zemo offered you cherry blossom tea to which you declined by holding up your wine glass. As Bucky left the room, the Baron released a sigh of relief causing you to laugh at his actions.

“You’re really scared of him, aren’t you?” You teased the man who was now glaring at you.

“If you have made him as angry as I have then you would be too.” You shrugged your agreement. You hadn’t made Bucky mad, and you definitely hadn’t been a part of reactivating him as the Winter Soldier to reach your goals.

“Yeah, well you’re a dumbass, so.” You got up and walked to where Bucky and Sam were gathered. Sam’s phone was still pressed to his ear, but you could tell you were catching the tail-end of his conversation. You could hear Sharon’s voice over the phone talking about the Power Broker. In all your years of living and conducting business in Madripoor, you never tangled with the Power Broker. That didn’t mean anything, it was just suspicious because of how successful your operation with Sharon was.

“What’s the plan?” You asked, dumping the rest of your wine in the sink, casting a glance at an appalled Zemo. “It was shit wine.”

“Zemo has a contact that can show us where the funeral is, and that’s all we got.” You nodded before looking at Bucky and Sam.

“Well, what are we waiting for?”

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

You were walking down the cobblestone roadway with the Three Musketeers when a voice shouted at you from the stairway before you. “Karli Morgenthau is too dangerous for you guys to be pulling this shit!” A scruffy looking man approached you. Both him and his partner were clad in tactical gear, the scruffy one’s resembling a Walmart version of Steve’s Cap suit. Bucky spread his arms out.

“How’d you find us now?” The man’s partner responded to Bucky with equal annoyance.

“Come on, man. You really think two Avengers can walk around Latvia without drawing attention?” As he got closer you could read Hoskins on his vest.

“No more keeping us in the dark.” Scruff said before anyone else could fire back. He stopped walking in front of Zemo, effectively stopping your forward motion. “You can start by telling us why you broke him out of prison.” You were walking just behind Bucky to his right and you watched him cock his head back, his voice taking on a sarcastic tone.

“He did that himself, technically.” Scruff’s face contorted as Bucky talked.

“This better be an unbelievable explana--” Scruff’s voice was cut off by Sam’s hand bumping into his chest.

“Hey, take it easy before it gets weird.” Zemo began talking over the group around him, explaining what was going on. You remained quiet, observing the interaction between Scruff and the Three Musketeers. Clearly, the Three Musketeers did not like him and so you assumed he was the ‘new Cap,’ whatever that means. The group began walking again with Zemo leading the pack.

“Alright good, we’ll move in fast. Take her by surprise.”

“No, I wanna talk to her alone.”

“I’m not losing her again.” Scruff was insistent but so was Sam.

“Look, the person closest to her just died, she’s vulnerable.” The group had stopped walking again, focusing on the conversation. You could see the wheels turning in Hoskin’s head as Sam spoke. Scruff was not having any part of what Sam was suggesting.

“What? No. Wait, no! No. Stop. Hold on. Stop, okay?” Scruff ran ahead in front of the others, stopping the forward motion, once again. “I think we’re way past reasoning with her, unless you forgot the fact that she blew up a building with people still in it.” This was news to you, deciding to stay offline in hopes of remaining under the radar. The back and forth continued until Scruff turned to Bucky.

“You gonna let him do this?” Bucky tilted his head at the man. “Are you gonna let your partner walk into a room with a Super Soldier alone?”

“He’s dealt with worse. And he’s not my partner.” You knew Bucky was referring to himself in Winter Soldier mode. Your heart hurt for him to have to go through this again with some clueless nobody.

“And last I checked, he’s a grown ass man who makes his own decisions, Scruff.” Your arms crossed over your chest. This had been the first time you spoke since Scruff and Hoskin’s had arrived.

“Who the hell is this?” Scruff pointed at you. “You break her out of prison too?” Sam interjected before you could sass back.

“I used to counsel soldiers dealing with trauma, okay? This is right in my wheelhouse.” Scruff’s gaze hadn’t left your face. He continued staring at you as he countered Sam’s claim.

“Yeah, I know. And I know those soldiers, which is why I know this is a bad idea.” Hoskin’s hand came up to rest on Scruff’s shoulder.

“Wait, John. If he can talk her down, it might be worth a try.” Scruff was not happy with Hoskin's agreement to the situation. Scruff said something to Zemo, who mostly ignored him, acknowledging the little girl waiting under an archway. The group began moving toward her and you focused on Bucky.

“Hey, you okay?” He just nodded at you, denying you the pleasure of a verbal response. You’ll take what you can get. Bringing up the rear of the group, you entered the factory type building last. The little girl pointed up some stairs, and Zemo translated. Sam walked up behind the girl, making him way up the stairs as Scruff handcuffed Zemo to a metal contraption.

“You got ten minutes. Then we’re doing things my way.” Scruff yelled after Sam, who darted his eyes at you and Bucky, a silent instruction to the both of you. Scruff rested his weight against a table, holding Steve’s shield in front of him. His breathing became increasingly worrisome, an ode to how stable he was in the moment.

“You aren’t looking so hot over there, Scruff.” Bucky shot you a warning look, but it didn’t deter you. “The government is really harping on you to get this shit contained, aren’t they?” Scruff pushed off the table, bringing the shield around his back. You were leaning against a pillar near Zemo and Scruff made his way over to you. His face was about six inches from yours as he spoke.

“Do you know who I am?” He was trying to intimidate you, which clearly wasn’t working.

“Do I look like I give a shit?” Scruff’s eyes darted over your frame, a look of recognition washing over his features.

“I know who you are.” He glanced at the clock across the room before looking back at you. “I could arrest you right now. Enemy of the State, standing before me right here.”

“We’re not in that state, dumbass. Technically, you don’t have jurisdiction.” The corner of your mouth raised in a smirk as Bucky called your name. You pushed off the pillar behind you to stand next to Bucky, who was leaning against the railing of the stairs.

“Don’t antagonize him, Y/N.” Bucky berated you, to which you shrugged a shoulder. Scruff began pacing back and forth, frustration getting the better of him.

“It hasn’t been ten minutes, John. Just sit tight.” Hoskin’s tried to calm Scruff down.

“Don’t do that. Don’t patronize me.” He shot a look at Hoskins, then the clock, then Bucky, making a decision in his head. “I’m goin’ in.” Bucky rose to his full height, not allowing Scruff to get by him. “This is all really easy for you, isn’t it? All that serum runnin’ through your veins.” You watched Bucky’s jaw clench, you could see the anger bottling up. “Barnes, your partner needs backup in there.” Bucky was an immovable fortress of solitude. “Do you really want his blood on your hands?” Oh shit.

You watched as Bucky’s resolve faded, allowing Scruff to step around him. Bucky was tired of being the cause of other people’s deaths. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust that Sam could take care of himself, he just didn’t want the burden any longer. He was finally free of being a murder machine, finally able to rinse his hands clean. Scruff knew just which buttons to push to get what he wanted.

Scruff busted into the memorial site, guns blazing. You trailed behind Bucky who was fighting against Hoskin’s to try to reach Scruff. Karli and Sam were previously engaged in peaceful conversation, until Scruff announced that Karli was under arrest. Betrayal laced her features as she looked at Sam, defending herself against Scruff advances. She threw Scruff’s weight into Sam, launching them both into the table behind. Bucky took off after her, chasing her through the halls. You crouched next to Sam, making sure he was okay.

Sam recovered quickly, racing down a different corridor leading to another stairway. You followed close behind, allowing Sam to attempt to navigate the area around you. The two of you eventually went down enough of the wrong corridors, that you met up with an equally confused Bucky. You head perked up at the sound of gunshots somewhere in the building. Not sure who the culprit was you turned to Bucky and Sam, who looked just as panicked.

The three of you retraced your steps to find Scruff standing over a knocked-out Zemo with crushed vials wetting the floor. Scruff tossed a glance back at Hoskins and then one to the three of you on the staircase landing. “What did we miss?” Sam directed his question at Scruff, who didn’t dignify him with an answer. Scruff nodded to Hoskins before walking away from the rest of you.

“Thanks for your help, asshole!” You shouted after him.

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

Hauling Zemo’s deadweight back to the safehouse was a job that you and Sam decided Bucky was fit for, being a super soldier and all. Through much complaining and whining on Bucky’s part, he did get him to the safehouse relatively injury free, dumping his body on the couch, jostling Zemo just enough to wake him up. Bucky promptly left the apartment after dropping Zemo off, going to clear his head was the explanation you got as he left.

You huffed, discontent with everything that was going on. You walked to the kitchen, wetting a rag and tossing it at Zemo. “For your head, cover your eyes, it’ll help.” You then popped a few cubes of ice in a glass and poured whiskey over it, handing it to Zemo as well, tapping your temple at him. You went back to the kitchen, jumping onto the counter, letting your legs dangle over the edge. Sam had pulled out a laptop and was typing furiously.

“Were you ever offered it?” You knew Zemo wasn’t talking to you, but to Sam, who hadn’t looked up from the laptop screen. You zoned out of their conversation, trying to decide what Sam was sending Sharon now. “Sam, you can’t hold out hope for Karli.” This made Sam pause and turn to face Zemo, who continued talking. “No matter what you saw in her, she’s gone. And we cannot allow that she and her acolytes become yet another faction of gods amongst real people.” Zemo removed the rag from his eyes, locking gazes with Sam. “Super Soldiers cannot be allowed to exist.”

“Isn’t that how god’s talk?” You interjected, then you asked quietly, “And if that’s how you feel, what about Bucky?” It was a valid concern. “Blood isn’t always the solution.” Bucky waltzed into the apartment, stripping his jacket from his shoulders, giving a perfect view of his two contrasting arms.

“Something’s not right about Walker.”

“You don’t say.” Sam quipped, closing his laptop and facing Bucky.

“Well, I know a crazy when I see one. Because I am crazy.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

“Shouldn’t have given him the shield.” Bucky jabbed at Sam, sticking to his guns on this.

“I didn’t give him the shield.” Sam was exasperated in his delivery.

“Well, Steve definitely didn’t.” You turned to Bucky.

“Hey. Back off, Buck.” Bucky was going to say something in reply when the door burst open again. In walked Scruff and Hoskins, all gung-ho about something.

“Alright. That’s it. Let’s go.” He pointed a finger at a now standing Zemo. The whole room began shifting, Sam in front of Scruff, Zemo to the side out of direct view, and Bucky to your other side, glass in hand. “I’m now ordering you to turn him over.” Sam stopped before Scruff, annoyed.

“Let’s be clear, shield or no shield, the only thing you’re runnin’ in here is your mouth.” You added from your spot on the countertop. Scruff pointed his finger at you.

“And I’m taking her too.” Bucky stepped in front of you, blocking Scruff’s view of you. You placed your hand on his left shoulder, letting him know you were still there.

“I had Karli and you overstepped. He’s actually proven himself useful today. We’re gonna need all hands on deck for whatever’s comin’ next.” Scruff puffed out his chest, attempting to intimidate Sam.

“How do you want this conversation to go Sam, huh?” He stepped back slightly, “Should I put down the shield? Make it fair?” Taking on a condescending tone with Sam, making your brows raise. Suddenly a spear lodged itself in the pillar next to Scruff’s face, all eyes darted towards the woman across the room. Two more warriors walked in, holding spears by their sides and Bucky looked resigned. This was new territory for you, who the fuck are these people? One of the women stepped forward near Scruff. She spoke at Bucky in a language that sounded vaguely familiar to you.

“Release him to us now.” Scruff ignored her instruction, deciding to step towards her, holding his hand out for her to shake.

“Hi. John Walker. Captain America.” You scoffed loudly.

“No, you’re not!” You received a look from Sam at your comment.

“Let’s put down the pointy sticks and we can talk through this, huh?” Sam stepped forward, warning Scruff against tangling with the Dora Milaje.

“The Dora Milaje don’t have jurisdiction here.”

“The Dora Milaje have jurisdiction wherever the Dora Milaje find themselves to be.” Your hand balled into a fist, quickly covering your mouth.

“That’s a burn, Scruff!” You yelled like the little shit you are.

“Y/N! Cut it out.” Sam snapped. Scruff, for some reason, thought it was a good idea to place hands on the Dora he was speaking to. She quickly brought her spear up to force his hand off her shoulder, then bringing it downward into the back of his knee and finally bouncing it off of the front of his helmet. She launched her foot into his chest while he was dazed, sending him backward into the spear behind him and face planting on the ground below. Scruff recovered quickly, sliding his arm into the straps of the shield to protect himself from the spear coming at his body.

The three warriors began fighting with Scruff and Hoskins, much to yours and Bucky’s delight. Sam backed up to stand next to Bucky, who crossed his arms over his chest. Sam looked at Bucky.

“We should do something.” You had just barely heard Sam say it when you and Bucky yelled at the same time.

“Looking strong, John!” “You’re doing great, sweetie!” Bucky gave you a look at your term of endearment, not understanding that it was a patronizing use of the word. The warrior battling Scruff was about to drive her spear into him, until Bucky gripped the handle, stopping her attack.

“Ayo!” Bucky yelled at her. “Ayo! Let’s talk about this!” Ayo had effectively yanked Bucky towards her body, then throwing him backwards. Sam stopped another warriors spear before it drove into a downed Hoskins. The last warrior threw her spear at Scruff, trapping the shield against the table. She began her approach to him and Sam yelled your name to help him.

You got down with a groan, unhappy that you had to save this asshat. All movement was stopped when you heard a metallic thud against the floor. Your head snapped to a now one armed Bucky, his vibranium arm laying on the ground. You released an audible gasp as Ayo walked away from Bucky, his blue eyes wide. Everything around you faded as you watched a broken Bucky, kneel to pick up his metal appendage. Your eyes flicked to Sam, who was just as shocked as you.

“Did you know they could do that?” Sam gestured to Bucky’s immobile arm.

“No.” He swung his arm around once to restart the systems. You heard Hoskins checking on Scruff’s wounded ego, but that didn’t matter to you.

“Bucky. Are you okay?” He avoided your question, grabbing his jacket and telling Sam that Zemo had gotten away. You held your arms out in front of you, what the fuck? Are you the enemy now? You followed after them, not sure where you were going. You got closer to Bucky, grabbing his left arm and yanking him back to you, making his attention be on you for a second or two. “I’m talking to you, dickwad.” His eyes hardened as you continued. “I don’t know what the fuck just happened back there, I’m assuming that has to do with you not being the Soldier anymore. I don’t really care. What I care about is if you’re okay or not.” You stopped walking, still holding his arm.

“What do you want from me, Y/N?” Bucky inquired.

“I want you to fucking talk to me. I’m here for you to unload on.” His brows scrunched and you realized what you said. “Oh my god, not like that, sicko. Well, I mean--”

“Y/N.” Bucky smiled at your humor.

“There, see? How hard was it for you to smile. Just talk to me. I’m making sure you’re okay. Don’t shut down, I hate it when people do that.” Bucky went to say something else when the both of your attentions shifted to a concerned Sam.

“She said what?” A pause, “Right. Hold on, hold on. I know, I know.” He sighed loudly, “Listen, pack an overnight bag and take the boys.” He tried to calm the other person down. You began walking again, Bucky asking quietly.

“What happened?” Sam dropped the phone to his collarbone.

“Karli called Sarah. She threatened my nephews.” Bringing it back up to his ear, he continued. “Go somewhere safe. Only pay cash, alright? Let me know when you get there.” You turned your attention to your surroundings. The bland streets offered little to no security, but they did give too many vantage points to count. “She wants me to come alone.”

“I’m coming with you.” Bucky fired back, not changing his mind about this one.

“Yay, more friends. She’ll love that. Where we going now?”

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

You’ve never seen Sam as mad as he was when he walked into that building. Although you weren’t sure if it was anger or if it was betrayal that he was displaying as he climbed the stairs to the second floor. “You called my sister? That’s how we’re gonna play this?”

“Sam, I would never hurt her. I just wanted to understand you better.” Her accent shone through with every word. You could tell that she didn’t want to hurt you. Her demeanor was relaxed, her guard was up, but she was being civil, almost like a politician. You were good at analyzing the people around you, so when Karli mentioned Sam and Bucky just being tools she really meant it. She wasn’t interested in hurting people she deemed innocent.

“Hey, Sam, new Cap is moving, looks like he’s found them, or maybe they found him.” Sharon’s voice snapped you back to reality. The two of you hadn’t spoken since you left Madripoor.

“Scruff’s coming, guys and you know it’s not going to be pretty when he does.” Bucky jumped over the ledge and Karli followed suit. Jumping into Bucky, slamming his body into the post. You ran alongside Bucky to the location Sam had sent to your phone. By the time that you had gotten to the building where Scruff was, you had lost Bucky. Taking an entrance that was already knocked open you heard gunshots from a few floors above you. With your gun raised, you scanned the room for any friendlies.

“Y/N, you’re about to come up on Hoskins. He’s not moving, may need an assist.” Your brows furrowed as you entered the room cautiously.

“How the hell do you know that, Shar? How did you get access to satellites?” You questioned as you approached a tied-up Hoskins. “Need some help, Battlestar?”

“I totally had that.” He said as your knife snapped the zip tie around his wrists.

“Yeah, yeah.” You held your hand out, hauling him to his feet. “It’s okay to be the damsel, ya know?” He shook his head at you, not engaging in your hilarious banter. “Jeez, who pissed in your Cheerios.” You shoved your knife back into your thigh holster, leading the way to where the others were.

When you walked in, Bucky had just caught a knife that Scruff had so deflected. He twirled the object in his right hand, ready to defend against the Flag Smasher attacking him. Their fight was quick and ended with the Smasher on their back, the knife Bucky was holding embedded in the floor inches away from their face. You jumped in, helping Sam fend off another Smasher when suddenly Bucky’s fist flew by your face.

“You’re welcome.” He darted off to deal with the others. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Scruff being held by a Smasher and Karli coming with a knife in hand. You started towards her to stop her, until you saw Hoskins attack from her other side. He tackled her to the ground, Karli bounced back quicker than Hoskins, allowing her to throw a punch at Hoskins. Your jaw dropped as you watched his body fly into the concrete mainstay behind him. His whole body slackened and Karli stood in shock.

Scruff was struggling in his captors hold, thrashing about to get to Hoskins. Once he was free, he shook Hoskins and pushed his fingers against his neck, checking for a pulse. “Hey, hey. Hey. Lemar!” You stood silent in between Bucky and Sam, unsure of what to do. It wasn’t until Scruff stood again that you knew what he was going to do. He had a half-second head start, but it was long enough that he was able to reach the Samsher that was holding him back before you could reach Scruff.

You had to push through the crowd to see what was happening. The Smasher had his hands protecting his face against the slam of the Captain America shield that was being hammered into him. You gasped and had to turn your face into Bucky’s shoulder. This is not happening, but it was.

And the whole world saw it too.

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

The next time you saw Scruff was in an abandoned warehouse. He was talking to himself, yelling about different things. If you weren’t sure before, you definitely were now. John Walker had taken the serum and it was enhancing all the wrong things. Scruff was kneeling, resting his hands on the bloodied shield before him. You were on Sam’s right when Scruff walked up to you.

“You guys should see a medic. You don’t look too good.” He paced in front of the three of you. “You saw what happened. You know what I had to do. I killed him because I had to! He killed Lemar!”

“He didn’t kill Lemar, John.” Bucky’s voice remained calm. “Don’t go down that road. Believe me, it doesn’t end well.” Scruff sent Bucky a disgusted look.

“I’m not like you.”

“You convincing yourself or us, Scruff?” You recognize that this probably isn’t the time to pull his strings but he wasn’t thinking clearly anyway.

“Listen, it was the heat of battle. Okay? If you explain what happened, they may consider your record. We don’t want anyone else to get hurt.” Scruff never stopped pacing, his hand flexing in the shield.

“You gotta give Sam the shield, Scruff.” He stopped pacing and turned to you, getting a little close for comfort.

“Oh, so that’s what this is.” He leaned forward, “You almost got me.” His index finger jabbed into your chest then rested there as he spoke. “You don’t wanna do this.”

“Yeah, we do.” Came Bucky’s reply before all hell broke loose. Bucky and Sam rushed Scruff, fighting for a way to get the shield from him. Scruff sent Sam flying backwards with a swift kick to the stomach. This gave you the room you needed to launch yourself onto his shoulders, attempting to flip him using his own body weight and your momentum. Your move distracted him enough that Bucky got a few decent hits in, but it really just served to piss him off further. He whipped one arm around, gripping the waistband of your jeans and dumping your weight off his shoulders. He threw you into a wooden shipping container, knocking all of the air out of your lungs.

You watch, as you lay there gasping, Bucky get beat to his knees by Scruff and Scruff’s attention is turned by Sam flipping in the air, kicking the shield to the side. You rose to your feet, readying yourself for the opportune moment. Once you found it, you flung yourself at Scruff, sending the both of you to the ground and the shield away from the both of you. You resituated yourself to straddle his stomach, this position didn’t last long because he flipped the both of you. Slamming your back against the ground, he gripped your wrists, yanking them way up high causing you to groan out at the stretch. He released you but not before delivering a swift punch to your cheek.

Your vision blurred, but you could make out Bucky going head to head with Scruff again. Scruff threw the shield at Bucky after kicking him into a lift. Luckily, Bucky was able to catch the shield and shift it to his own arm before Scruff attacked him again. Scruff pressed the shield tight against Bucky’s body, then began speaking to him.

“Why are you making me do this?” You and Sam shared a look then watched as Scruff tossed Bucky clear across the room into an electrical outlet, short circuiting his arm. Sam flew at Scruff, trying to catch him off guard. He was unsuccessful in his efforts, ending with Sam facing Scruff as you crouched in Scruff’s six.

“This isn’t you, John.” Sam began trying to reason with him. He is who is way past reasoning, not Karli. Scruff’s head tilted as he spoke in that condescending tone again.

“We could’ve been a team.” Sam didn’t say anything. He deployed his wings, flying past Scruff and sending a small grappling hook to try and take the shield. Scruff flipped through the air, then braced himself against one of the lifts. You came up from behind him and tackled him off the lift, sending Sam to the ground as well. As you landed, you hit your head on a piece of broken concrete, disorienting you. The shield was out of Scruff’s hands, and he wasn’t happy about that. They both dove for the shield but Scruff managed to get to Sam first, landing on top of Sam.

“I am Captain America.” Scruff grunted out as he ripped Sam’s wings from his suit. You watch in horror as Scruff holds the shield, ready to give Sam a face lift. Bucky knocked Scruff off just before he could land his hit. Scruff had pinned Bucky to the ground after driving Bucky’s head into the side of the shield. You hauled yourself to your feet again, wrapping your arm around Scruff’s neck, hindering his movement. Sam came from the front, delivering a harsh blow to Scruff’s face. You continued to hold your chokehold as Bucky and Sam pried the shield off his arm. You heard a sickening crack as Sam withdrew from the hoe down. Bucky rose to his feet and spit out the blood collecting in his mouth, reaching out his hand for you to take.

You walked over to Sam, you hoped that would be the end of it all. Lo and behold though, Scruff got up yet again. “It’s mine.” He growled possessively, starting towards Bucky again. Bucky ducked lifting Scruff over his shoulder and Sam threw his whole body weight into Scruff who was dangling off to the side of Bucky. The three of them laid on the floor, bloodied and sweaty as you stood over them.

Bucky rose to his knees, the shield in front of him and he used the leverage of it to stand fully. He dropped it next to Sam, pausing for a few seconds and then walking away completely. You stood next to Scruff, in disbelief. “This just got a whole lot more complicated didn’t it, Sam?” He didn’t reply to you, but you watched as he tried to wipe the blood off the outer rings of the shield.

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

You stood outside the building where Donya’s funeral was held, listening to Sam talk to someone else named Torres. Bucky had walked right past you, not a word said. He was shutting down and running away, at least that’s what it looked like. You wouldn’t know because the whore wouldn’t talk to you. You sat down on the stairs, head in your hands frustrated about what was going on. Your phone began buzzing in your pocket, so you took it out ready to deny the call, until you saw who it was.

“Shar.” You sighed into the phone speaker.

“Y/N. How’s it going?” You could hear the smugness lacing her tone.

“Alright, just get it over with. Tell me that you told me so, just make it quick.” She scoffed.

“I mean, I did tell you so, but now I don’t want to tell you that I did.” You laughed at her.

“You realize you just did, though?” You sense that she was smiling.

“What happened?” Her tone switched into a serious one on a dime.

“Walker took the serum, went batshit, killed a Flag Smasher, and then beat the shit out of Sam, Bucky and me in order to keep his precious shield because he ��is Captain America.’” Your voice morphed to imitate Scruff.

“Well, that was bound to happen sometime. He’s all over the place.” You nodded, pulling the phone away from your ear and switching to speakerphone so you could talk and scroll through Twitter.

“He’s already trending. Captain America Kills Innocent Man, what a great headline. You know the worst part about all of this, Shar?” You switched the speakerphone off, bringing it back to your ear. “I don’t even think that Karli is in the wrong here. She’s doing what she’s doing for good reason, she’s just doing a shit job of getting her point across.”

“Yeah, well she’s becoming a pain in everyone’s asses, so that puts her on everyone’s shit list.” Sharon took a deep breath before continuing. “You need to get out of there. I know you’re not technically in the States, or alive, but you know how the government is. They’ll find a way to get you, if they want you.” She was lecturing you out of love, you knew, but it was frustrating for you still.

“Can you not trust that I know what I’m doing?” A grunt released from her end of the phone. “No, seriously Shar. We grew up the same, went through all the same training, what makes you know so much better than me?” Deep down, you knew that wasn’t what she meant, but you had always felt second best when it came to Sharon.

“It’s not that you don’t know what you’re doing.” She sighed heavily. “It’s that you were gone for five years and things have changed. Governments have become stricter and you don’t understand that they aren’t the same as they were.” You remained quiet, expecting her to say something else. “That’s why it’s good you have me because I know how they work.”

“You know how they work, do you?” You were fed up with her. “Then explain to me how you have access to satellites, Sharon. That’s not something that you just happen upon.” Your tone was accusatory. “Are you working for the Power Broker behind my back?” You heard a sharp intake of air on her end. “I swear to God, Sharon. We promised each other we wouldn’t work for that asswipe. He’s involved in too much bad shit. If the US government were to ever find out that we were working for the Power Broker, they wouldn’t grant us pardons, Shar. Did you fuck this up for us?”

“I didn’t fuck anything up and you need to check your tone when you’re talking to me.” Your brows shot to your hairline.

“The fuck did you just say to me?”

“You heard me. We need to work this shit out. I didn’t fuck anything up and neither will you if you come back to Madripoor right now.” You were shocked, Sharon had never talked like this to you.

“I really don’t think I would be comfortable being somewhere that I’m clearly not welcome anymore, so I’m going to stick with what I know.” Sharon began backtracking as you resigned yourself to being on your own for the first time in forever. “Goodbye, Sharon.” You ended the call and shoved your phone into the pocket of your jeans.

You dropped your head into your hands in defeat. Being on your own was daunting and you weren’t sure how Sharon survived without you well enough to grow your business all on her own. You tried to think of your next move, deciding that sticking with Sam would be your best bet. He’s the easiest to guess where he’s going since Bucky has been mentally MIA towards you.

You recalled Sam mentioning his sister and nephews, thinking he would go there to check on them. You hauled yourself out of your slump and to Zemo’s apartment to collect your things before going. You were going all in if you were going to do this, so why the fuck not?

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

@londonalozzy @marvelofwitch @dramaticwittch @hellmoonsin @jn-wolf @youcancallmeishita @iabrokengirl @veroxloki @liveloudwriteloud @lainternettuale @angelofthetrenchcoats @rosiahills22 @peachymichu @sj-ficrecs @learisa @itsyagirl01 @simply-me-xoxo @ghoststudyy @taina-eny @japanrecs @sinfulhun-collapsedheart @isaordora @shutupstevie @sprsoldierfics @beachbabe925

[firestark-addict]

Because He Was the Weakest

(A/N) I know that in Chapter Two we're supposed to assume that everyone left straight from the townhouse after they talk with Beverly to go to the clubhouse but -because I wanted to write this fic- in this they sleep in their clothes and leave bright in the morning with Mike. Please don't jump on me for that. Thank you guys so much for reading!

---

Mike had told them to get some sleep about an hour ago.

No one seemed to really unpack or properly prepare for bed at all. Once each room's individual door had been shut, there wasn't much noise left in the townhouse. Richie swore he had heard the bathwater run in Bill's room next door, but it only ran for a few seconds before being quickly shut off. Some shuffling came and then it was silent once again.

Richie had taken off his pants and tossed his over-shirt off to the side with them, deciding he would just slip both of them back on in a few hours when they left for god knows where Mike was taking them in the morning.

He had collapsed into the large bed, sinking into it like a marshmallow. After tossing his glasses on the nightstand and flicking off the lamp, Richie focused on trying to fall asleep. He curled up as tightly as he could, burying his face into the pillow and tuning out the rattling hum of the old townhouse's radiator.

It was dark and quiet.

He hated it.

Richie did everything to blur out the images that kept flashing in front of him. At first, he saw vague things from years ago; terrifying things. Things that hadn't quite taken shape yet in his memory but the emotion was there. The terror. Then he saw the restaurant and Mike beating the table with the chair. Everyone watching and screaming. Absolutely helpless. Finally, he saw Stanley.

Richie let out a harsh breath, squinting his eyes closed as tightly as he could.

Stan.

"Jesus."

His imagination wouldn't stop trying to recreate what they had heard on the phone. He tried to imagine what Stan might've looked like now. He tried to imagine him with his wife and Mike giving him that phone call. He tried to imagine his voice and his trembling hands and finally the despair consuming him whole. He tried to imagine the bathtub. The blood. His last thoughts. His fear.

Except he didn't try to imagine any of it. It was just there, in his head, subconsciously building the emotional torture for him.

Richie wiped his eyes dry, keeping them closed as he did.

Time went on when finally, Richie felt sleep coming for him. The weight in his chest seemed to drift off with him as he fell deeper and deeper into his pillow; welcoming the sweet distraction of sleep. Just as he was standing on the edge of unconsciousness, a voice broke through the stilled air.

"Rich!"

The sharp whisper brought him halfway back. Richie stirred under the comforter, letting out a low grown.

"Rich, you awake?"

"Mmhm…"

"I think there's something in my room."

Richie rubbed his eyes, forcing himself painfully back into reality. He dragged his head out of the pillow and rested himself on his forearms in the mattress. Slipping back on his glasses, Richie blinked in the dark before making out Eddie's familiar shape standing beside the bed.

"You what?" Richie said loudly. A gruff grogginess still gripping at his voice.

"I think there's something in my room." Eddie whispered again.

He rubbed the side of his face. "What are you talking about?"

"I mean I think there's something in my room asshole."

"There's nothing in your room."

"Seriously? You're gonna tell me that after the fucking fortune cookie shit?!"

Richie looked at the genuine panic in Eddie's face. He'd gotten good at being able to tell when Eddie was overreacting or if it was a real concern. Usually, it was the former. But right now, it seemed like he was quite sure of his fear.

He stayed watching Eddie's face in the dark room for a few more seconds before finally tearing his eyes away from him. Richie threw over the comforter, dragging himself out of the warm bed and into the ice cold room. Eddie waited for him to collect himself as he scratched at the collar his shirt nervously. Richie stretched out his arms and back, refusing to bother with his mess of bed hair as he scooped his phone out of the pockets of his discarded pants. He flicked on the flashlight function and looked around the space.

Eddie's eyes followed him across the room. "What're you doing?"

"Looking."

The townhouse had odd antiques all over the place; up against the wall or displayed on tables. Every room seemed to have a weird distinguishable theme. Richie's room just so happened to be the 'Golf Room'. When he finally spotted the bag of old iron golf clubs hung on the wall, Richie grabbed the handle of the largest one and pulled it free.

"What're you gonna do with that?"

"What did you want me to do? Just go in there with my fucking phone?"

"Wait, you’re going in there?"

Richie rolled his eyes, tossing the golf club on his shoulder before swiftly turning back to the door and heading into the hallway.

"Rich! Richie wait!"

The sound of Eddie's quiet tight footsteps quickly appeared behind Richie's loud wide ones. The two of them took the few strides over to the room next door.

"Hold on-" Eddie grabbed his upper arm, stopping Richie from reaching for the doorknob. He moved closer, shifting his voice from a whisper to a low hushed tone. "Shouldn't we wake up the others?"

"I'm sure they'll wake up if you start screaming."

Eddie's eyes went wide. "Wha- why would I be screaming?"

"Anything worth waking them up for that might be in this room would be something you'd scream at; so don't worry about it."

"That's not funny."

"Kinda is." He shrugged.

Eddie shook his head. "You're a dick."

Richie pulled out of his grasp and got a hold of the doorknob. Eddie watched over his shoulder as the door slowly creaked inwards, disappearing in the dark cramped room. The floorboards groaned beneath his bare feet as Richie took a step inside. Using the flash from his phone, he found the light switch against the wall beside him.

Richie flicked it upwards. Nothing.

"Yeah, the lights went out earlier right before I heard the noise."

"How'd you know the lights went out?"

"I had them on."

Richie turned back to Eddie; a sly smirk on his lips. "You were sleeping with the lights on?"

"I'm sorry Richie, we have a fucking killer clown after us and you're gonna call me a little bitch for leaving the lights on? Fuck you."

Just then, there was a loud clatter sound that exploded from the back of the room. Eddie let out a sharp-edged gasp and jumped behind Richie; grabbing his upper arm again. Richie threw the light towards the noise; his heart pounding in his ears as he scanned the floor for something, but there was nothing to be seen.

"I think it's behind the nightstand." Eddie had switched back to whispering.

Richie stayed put for a few seconds. He gripped the golf club's handle tightly in his hand as Eddie's breath quickened behind him. He eyed the nightstand before finally making his way deeper inside.

"Rich!"

"Stay here." He whispered back as he crept further across the wood floor.

"Richie come back!" Eddie had folded his arms over his chest, holding himself tightly as he stood in the doorway. "Let's go get Mike or Bill -Rich!"

The cold air of the room nipped at his skin as Richie went deeper. He held out the light and lifted the neck of the club just slightly off of his shoulder. His eyes frantically searched the space with each step.

SHET SHET SHET

Eddie and Richie jumped when the loud scraping sound cut through the air from the back wall. Eddie was right, it seemed to be coming from behind the nightstand. The chilling noise continued as Richie leaned down. He listened for a moment before looking over the small wooden frame of the stand.

Eddie watched him with horrified eyes, his feet still glued behind the doorframe. "Rich..."

With his phone in his hand, Richie reached behind the stand. He took in a deep breath, collecting himself as he summoned his next bout of courage. Then, in one hard pull, Richie yanked the stand from the wall. Casting the light downwards and throwing the golf club up overhead, Richie was ready to attack whatever lay on the other side when suddenly, he froze.

"Richie?" Eddie leaned forward.

"Oh my god."

"What is it man?"

Richie tossed the golf club onto the bed beside him, keeping his eyes on what Eddie couldn't see. Eddie stared at Richie until he suddenly ducked down, disappearing behind the nightstand.

There was some shuffling. Eddie could see the light from Richie's phone flicker before it suddenly turned off, plunging the room back into darkness.

"Richie! Are you okay?!"

"Holy shit."

That's when he suddenly reappeared from behind the stand. Eddie's eyes followed Richie's tall figure as he made his way back around towards him, something clasped between his hands.

"What is it? What are you doing?!"

He planted his feet in front of Eddie, a look of horror over his face as he stared at his closed hands.

Eddie stayed still. "What the fuck is that man?"

Richie met his gaze before slowly extending his hands out to him.

"Rich…"

"Just look."

"I don't wanna look!"

Arms still shaking, Richie snapped open his hands slightly, a small fuzzy head popped out from his grasp and let out a high pitched squeak.

"FUCK!" Eddie screamed, leaping backwards and covering his face.

"It's a fucking mouse dumbass." Richie said flatly.

"You're Satan." Eddie heaved, crossing his arms and glaring back up at him. "You're fucking Satan."

"I'm Satan?" Richie scoffed. "It's a mouse. You literally woke me up in the middle of the night because you got scared by a baby mouse."

"Can you just get rid of it?"

"There's like a big hole in the wall back behind the stand. I think he chewed through the wires. That's probably why the lights went out." The little creature squirmed and squeaked in Richie's grasp as he looked it over. "I bet there's like a million more of these guys in here. This place isn't exactly up to code."

"Why are you holding it?"

"To show you."

"Yeah, I saw it. Now get rid of it."

"You still scared of a little mouse?"

"Do you know how many fucking diseases those things can carry? And you're just letting one sit in your fucking hand."

"You don't have any diseases do you little guy?" Richie held the mouse up to his face. "Do you? Huh?"

"Richie-"

"How much would you pay me to kiss him?"

"If you put that thing anywhere near your mouth I will throw up."

"Fine." He chuckled. "Let's let him outside."

---

The rest of the townhouse was just as dark and quiet. Richie had let Eddie take his phone from him and light up the stairs as they went downwards. Once they got to the front door, Eddie threw it open and stepped back, keeping himself as far away from mouse as possible.

Richie moved up to the doorway before turning back around. "You don't wanna give your roommate a final farewell?"

“I will chuck it out myself if you try and put that thing near me again."

Richie laughed through his smile as he turned back to the open air. "Goodbye little buddy."

Bending down, Richie opened his hands. The tiny mouse scrambled out of his palms and raced off into the street. The two of them stood in the doorway, watching it disappear into the dark.

The air stilled out between them as they kept their eyes on the night. Time ticking on as they stayed in place.

"I'm sorry man."

Richie shut the door and turned around, surprised at Eddie's sudden change of tone. "For what?"

"I was scared shitless of a mouse." Eddie ran his hands over his face, letting out a long deep breath. "I'm just on edge. Everything's getting to me."

"To be fair, you're always on edge."

"Fuck you."

Richie laughed again. "It's okay. I think we're all in the same boat; which is completely understandable given the Pennywise trip we had at the Chinese place." He patted Eddie on the shoulder, taking his phone back from him before turning to the staircase, ready to head back up to his room.

"I can't stop thinking about Stanley."

Richie stopped in place. He turned back around to see Eddie hadn't moved; his eyes still on the front door. Richie bit the inside of his lip as he stood there, watching him a second to try and let the words come to him. His heart lurched forwards at the thought of Eddie in the same place he was an hour ago; forced imagination racing to create the nightmare of reality.

"Me too." He answered quietly.

Eddie turned back around to see Richie's eyes on his feet, his chin buried against his chest. "It's not fair."

"No." Richie shook his head, taking a broken breath. "No, it's not."

"You alright Rich?"

"I think I'm as alright as the rest of us." He sighed. "Everything's just so fucked." Richie looked back at Eddie's worried eyes. "What about you?"

He simply shook his head. "The longer we stay here the more I remember him and the more…"

Richie nodded. He understood. It was all coming back to him too. The heartbreak deepening the more they remembered what they were missing.

The radiator rattled above them as they stood in the dark lobby, neither wanting to move much.

Finally, Eddie shrugged. "I don't think I can go back in there."

Richie's eyes raised back off the ground to meet his. He adjusted his glasses, thinking a second before clearing his throat. "Well...if you want, you can sleep in my room."

"Haha, very funny."

"I'm being serious."

Eddie eyed him back, a grin breaking over him. "Nice try asshole but I'm not six. Way to fuck with me right now."

"I'm not fucking with you."

"Alright sure." He crossed his arms.

Richie let our a tired sigh, turning back towards the stairs. "Fine then, sleep down here if you want."

Eddie watched him begin to climb the steps before jumping forwards. "Wait! Rich!"

He stopped against the railing. "What?"

"You're not fucking with me?"

"No man, I'm not fucking with you."

Eddie presses his lips together, thinking before finally giving a curt nod. Richie watched as he held his chin high, climbing the stairs up past him. He couldn't help but smile, following after Eddie.

---

"You can sleep on that side." He pointed.

Once Eddie was under the covers was when Richie flicked off the lights. He then maneuvered to the other end, peeling back the comforter and climbing inside. Richie had to pull himself closer to the edge, not particularly familiar with sharing a bed with someone. Once his glasses were tossed back on the nightstand, Richie rolled onto his side, facing away from Eddie.

"Night Rich."

"Night Eds."

The two drifted into silence again. The rattling radiator carrying on.

Richie couldn't fall back into sleep. Something was tugging at him that kept him awake. He had suddenly become very aware of Eddie's presence in the bed with him. No reason why. He didn't make much noise and he wasn't moving around. But Richie couldn't stop focusing on him. The weight in the mattress beside him and the soft breathing distracted Richie like no other. He just laid curled in his pillow, eyes half-open in the dark.

"Richie."

His name was mumbled quietly from the covers beside him. Richie half jumped at the sudden noise, thinking Eddie was asleep.

"What's up buddy?"

"You said he got to Stan first because...because he was the weakest."

"Yeah." Richie sighed, feeling the guilt weigh in his chest. "I shouldn’t have said that."

"It's true though." Eddie paused, taking a breath. "What if I'm next?"

Richie's eyes went wide. "Why are you saying that?"

"Come on Rich. You know in the order it would have to me next. I'm not like Bill or Bev or you. I'm nothing like you guys."

Richie paused for only a second before rolling over. He met Eddie's eyes in the pillow beside him, looking over his face before speaking.

"I don't know if you know this but in the parking lot tonight I was the first one who tried to bail."

"Yeah but you're...Richie come on. You're you. You're scared but you don't give a shit. I'm not like that."

"Sure you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Listen," Richie had noticed Eddie's hand rested in front of his face. Then, without even thinking about it, he had grabbed hold of it. His eyes still on Eddie. "Yeah, you are. And who cares even if you weren't. What happened to Stanley was cause he was alone. Us, all of us aren't alone alright? We're together. So no matter what, we're gonna be fine. Together."

Eddie's gaze stayed fixated on Richie, soaking up his words.

Richie felt his heart skip a beat when Eddie tightened his own grip on his hand. The two holding hands a moment before Richie quickly cleared his throat and pulled away from Eddie, his attention still facing him.

"Okay?"

"Okay."

Their eyes stayed on each other as the seconds ticked by. A sudden fear swelled in Richie chest. The same fear that had swelled when he pulled his hand away a moment ago and when Eddie's wedding ring glinted in the dark. It's was a dumb fear he didn't know the source of, but it stung.

God, had it stung.

"Get some sleep man. Who knows when Mike wants us up." Richie nodded before rolling onto his back, resting his hands up under his head.

His eyes focused on the ceiling in front of him as Eddie shifted where he was. He didn't roll over though. Eddie stayed put facing Richie.

Eventually, Eddie's soft snores took the air. It was a nice sound, Richie had concluded. Sleep was starting to make its way around his edges as he listened to it.

That's when a small weight appeared on top of his waist. The sudden foreign physical contact shook Richie awake. He noticed the mattress had suddenly dipped down beside him as a heat pressed up against his side. He snapped downwards to see what it was. Richie’s eyes went wide as he stared down at -Eddie.

He was still snoring, completely asleep. Eddie had shifted over and curled up into Richie’s side, his hand lightly resting on top of him.

Richie went completely still, just lying there watching Eddie closely. He didn't have time to reel from his shock though when Eddie suddenly pulled his head up, resting it back down on top of Richie's chest. He felt his heart skip several times as Eddie lazily dragged his hand across his stomach and curled at his waist, pulling himself up close. Richie's face went hot as he stayed unmoving, letting Eddie nuzzle over him.

His chest was light as his focus was pinpointed on Eddie. His breathing, his weight, his warmth. It was a sudden and unexpected comfort.

That's when the memories started to flood back to him. Richie had imagined this before. A long time ago.

He had? Why?

But this wasn't like the fiction he used to fantasize over. This was real.

Richie's heart was thumping so hard he was worried it would wake Eddie up, forcing him to move off of him.

He didn't want that.

Why?

Richie wasn't a big fan of personal attention. He preferred to keep his space from people, something he was sure his therapist had an answer for. If someone had fallen asleep on him like this he would've shoved them off by now.

But this wasn't just someone.

This was Eddie.

It was like a floodgate opened in his head. More of those vague faded memories began to clear once again. But less so moments. No, he didn't remember the moments, just the feeling. This strong feeling. The feeling he had for...him.

Eddie stirred again, pulling himself tighter to Richie's waist.

Richie felt his breath catch in his throat as he waited for Eddie to release. But he didn't. He stayed there. Close and safe.

Hesitantly, Richie pulled one hand out from under his head and turned his eyes back on Eddie. Hovering the arm over Eddie's shoulder for a moment, Richie finally decided to rest it down on top of him.

He closed his eyes, waiting for Eddie to suddenly awaken. But he didn't. He stayed fast asleep.

A broken smile took Richie's mouth and eyes. A desperately happy smile that he couldn't explain. There was a feeling, he felt it back at the restaurant when he saw everyone there and they were happy and good -it felt like coming home. Richie had never felt a feeling quite like it. He hated his real home. It was cold and empty. Even his family's home felt the same. But with everyone sitting around that table he felt like he had just come home. His real home. It was the feeling of right. The feeling of warmth. The feeling of love.

Richie felt that here again, right now, with Eddie curled around him and his own arm protectively wrapped over his shoulder.

It was a piece of him he had forgotten about that fell back into place.

He never wanted to move again.

Then the familiar sinking feeling fell on top of Richie. Realizing he would never have this. Realizing he would never even be able to talk about this. Realizing Eddie was probably thinking of his wife right now. Realizing that for Eddie this didn't mean the same thing as it did to Richie. And now the guilt came in. The disgust and anger he had for himself.

God. Why did he feel this way?

"Richie…"

He looked down at his muffled voice as Eddie had pressed his name against his shirt and into his chest. Eddie's voice was tired, half asleep. Just barely awake to make a comment that for some reason was important enough to blink open his sleep ridden eyes.

"Yeah man?"

"You smell nice."

Richie felt his eyes well up. He let out an empty relieved laugh and rubbed Eddie's shoulder.

"Thanks Eds."

[cecelias-cult]

They all sound good, but the toaster teleporter intrigues me (btw, you can call me Dia! pronouns she/her).

cecelia can be kind of a dick to me sometimes and i do stupid shit while tired, yeah? so one day, 4:12AM on a sunday, i said to myself: "i, a physicist, am going to break the laws of physics."

   so i drew up some hasty blueprints, and i scribbled out some equations and i texted sugar telling them not to go into my lab and to keep the neighbors out of my business (honestly fuck you charity, i don't want your shitty meatloaf and i don't give a fuck that david doesn't like you. bye.)

   sugar only stopped by in the few weeks that i was working to drop off pieces of scrap metal. which led to the toasters. cecelia apparently decided that the toaster was a chew toy, apparent by the gnaw marks on the wire.

  so me, being a Certified Dumbass With An IQ Of 198, decided: let's melt these fuckers into a Molten Toaster. 

  megalatoaster, if you will.

 so i did. i called up my college buddy (who now is an engineer) and we melted some fuckin toasters.

 then cecelia's cult came into play.

  just as i had formed the very quick and very shitty base structure of the teleporter, which was essentially a two-story circle, cecelia popped in and said "oh its free real estate"

 i was kind of pissed ngl. i worked my ass off melting down stupid toasters while sugar laughed at me and cecelia wasn't gonna ruin this, okay? she wasn't.

  but i'm weak.

 so i reluctantly made the original structure into a hamster cage-like-thing which is basically just like?? a dollhouse?? with an open back of glass and shit, perfectly safe i assure you.

  but every time. every time i would go down into my lab and flick on the bad fluorescent lights, i would see it. MEGALATOASTER. (it has to be bolded and capitalized, you see. it's important.)

  so I Did It. i spent the next week taking the small toasters and slowly adding More Toaster until i could beat it into a vague toaster shape. then i got the bright idea to commission my good old buddy pal (named socks, he's a cool man. drinks that spicy hot sauce shit straight from the bottle. it's admirable.) to make me one of those epic music box things.

  and we programmed it to play MEGALOVANIA.

 using toaster sounds.

 so when the day finally arrived, i was ECSTATIC. i will finally be able to pull off the ultimate joke that my sleep deprived mind could come up with.

  sugar was anxious all day, claiming "I have a very bad feeling about this. Very bad. Very, very, bad and quite possibly catastrophic."

  so i gently told him, y'know, sit down i'll bring you a tea and toast.

 instead what i did was bring them tea and a GIANT ASS TOASTER.

 i could see the sins crawling over sugar's back, begging to be put into words but clearly fighting against his better instinct of Not Indulging Red.

 until finally, the holy words came.

"...what is that?"

 and i just grinned and flicked a button and then. and THEN.

 pop!....

 pausing, sweating and scared, i turned to sugar who immediately evacuated the house with our valuables in tow. thankfully, only the living room exploded. 

  everyone was a-okay, except maybe charity because apparently her shed was destroyed in the fire.

  it didn't help that my first words were "well at least your whole house ain't toast, huh?"

 she moved out last year.

it was the best day of my entire fuckin' life.

  ((i later remade the blueprints and the teleporter. it didn't work of course, but it looks cool as hell in my lab.))

(((i told sugar the jokes later and we agreed that if i ever tried to remake MEGALATOASTER that they'd pretend to be surprised, for my sake.)))

[ninjaotta]

little detective pikachu things i noticed on my second viewing

spoilers!

the two aipom walking in tim’s nicked trousers with one tail through each leg

pikachu weaving round tim’s feet like a cat when trying to convince him to work together

joltik on the wires outside the apartment

slaking sleeping just. everywhere. they show up on the background of a bunch of scenes

tim CRYING over his mum ily bby

pikachu saying sweet mother of arceus

lucy being adorable and dramatic. tim being useless

lucy and tim being THE RIGHT AGE - justice smith is 23, kathryn newton is 22 so they’re not like. 30 somethings playing teens they’re supposed to be early 20s and they look it

the mr mime scene is still HYSTERICAL

tim’s voice sounding like he’s behind glass when he’s in mr mimes space

mr mimes “hair” going down when he’s being soaked in gasoline

BEATBOXING LOUDRED

togepi in the club/battle scene

why does tim say pikachu can use discharge when everyone else says he knows thunderbolt

charizard being injured by tim stepping on his tail according to pokedex saying charmander will die if the flame goes out

gyarados evolving is SO COOL

my boy wanting a good relationship with his dad and CRYING for the love he wanted i love tim

eevee is so FUCKING cute like a lil kitty

flareon cute as fuck too

how the FUCK did they did get bill nighy in on this oh my GOD

this movie playing the overdramatic detective noir genre for comedy and it’s great

why is RITA ORA in it??????? what the shit is this movie i love it

tim being soft and scared and dumb i love him

lucy is so chaotic dumbass i love her

LUCY’S PSYDUCK BACKPACK

dr laurent says we’re canonically 20 years after movie 1

“get a headache you neurotic duck”

“that’s a great fifth option”

pikachu: gets beat up by charizard and is fine

also pikachu: gets hit by a pebble and requires the healing power of mewtwo

the torterra that wake up and fuck EVERYTHING up to just immediately go back to sleep

i want FIFTY BULBASAUR IMMEDIATELY

THE LITTLE NOISES THE BULBASAUR MAKE I WOULD DIE FOR THEM

the ditto roger with the sunglasses on looks like milo yiannopoulos and that fact contributed very well to me despising him

i’m in love with the image of ryan reynolds crying while singing the pokemon theme tune in the recording studio

mewtwo saying ���run!” before it gets gassed i cried he protec

emolga is TOO CUTE

psyduck’s voice changes slightly as lucy

the ryme city theme slaps

electro ball looks SO GOOD

the mewtwo-pikachu battle was so badass

love the use of ditto while being HELLA creepy

pikachu canonically has a scruff like a cat and i love it

mewtwo looks so noble when it promises to fix the mess

ryan reynolds playing like. a dad. as his own age. i like it. but it was kinda weird tho bc i’m used to him being the younger dumbass hero

the whole cinema gasping and losing their minds every time pikachu said “pika” in his normal pokemon voice

the pokemon yellow & manga style credits with the theme music over it

each of the characters converted into manga versions of themselves

the fact that rita ora was in the movie and had a song on the credits

the fact that pikachu’s “i’ve been so lonely” and his first attempt to talk to tim, plus the unique body language he has, all make way more sense when you’re watching for the second time. see also: the difference in how pikachu moves in flashbacks to the crash and at the end after things are restored - he moves more like ash’s pikachu because he’s an actual pikachu now

despite its simplicity the movie REWARDS REWATCHES and doesn’t feel boring because like. it’s pokemon. it doesn’t get better than this

[speedygal]

Not a logical intervention - part 75

“Do you have a leg generator?” Kirk asked, abruptly.

Shalia looked up from the padd.

“Elaborate,” Shalia said, raising a thin slanted eyebrow.

“I can sense my bondmate coming this way,” Kirk said.

“Your bondmate is either dying or dead,” Shalia said.

Kirk had a short laugh.

“He is not exactly the type who lets a beetle about the size of a fist stop him,” Kirk said, fondly. “The things love can drive a man to do. . .” a smile fondly looked back at a memory that Spock had shared with him. “Sometimes I think he can’t stand being without me.”

“Doctor!” a human nurse called. “We have a new patient!”

Shalia turned as Kirk rubbed his foot. Right on time.  Kirk kept his eyes off from looking what injuries Spock had. Spock did not let the beetles walk over him, freely. Spock likely tossed them off as they climbed. Being blind didn’t matter when it came to finding Kirk. It was his ‘spidey sense’. Or at least that is what Chekov called it. Kirk did not need to give himself nightmares for the month when his husband was going to be very alive in bed with him.

“Oh no,” Shalia said.

“We are going to need more than a dermal generator on his legs!” the tall and very human nurse said.

“You’re a double dumbass, T’hy’la,” Spock said, guided over to another to a special section of the sick bay.

“I know, baby!” Kirk called back, as the lights briefly went out then turned back on.

Charles made his way down the corridor. Ku’mie strolling by his side There was silence between them. He dropped his phaser to the ground while leaning against the wall while taking a break. Ku’mie was alert looking around. He can feel that they were getting closer to the center. He came to a stop, abruptly, as the sound of a loud buzzing was coming from behind him. Ku’mie and Charles slowly looked over their shoulders to see a medium sized beetle shaking its rear while staring at them. Ku’mie fired at the beetle destroying it in a golden blast. 

“Run!” Charles said, running ahead.

“Commodore!” Ku’mie called, their voice being distant.

“I MEAN RUN!” Charles shouted back. “THERE IS MORE WHERE THAT CAME FROM!”

“Oh shit,” Ku’mie said, and then she screamed.

Charles speeded down the corridor.

He took left turns and right turns with full speed ahead.

The corridors were eerily familiar. As though---Charles stopped, seeing a bracelet. He picked it up seeing the familiar engravements. It was the same ship. This belonged to the first officer of the ship. It had been on the officers wrist with distinctive designs on it. Charles slowly stood up. He walked on ahead placing the object into his pocket. He should have done this long ago. So long ago. He walked slowly down the path hearing the groan of the ship. He followed the familiar path as he had been dragged in. He was scared then and he was not now. He knew his place in all of it. Perhaps if he took control of the ship and sent it elsewhere, far, far away from Federation Space then everyone will be safe. 

He came to the opening of the center. There was a large skeleton of a beast resting in the chair with wires sticking  out and a circular optic in one of the eyes. It was nothing like he had seen before. He came over seeing the dangling wires above the creatures head. He lifted the beast off then dragged it away. It seemed the beast was in a one piece suit with technology covering all over. The odd scars in the ship began to make sense. The ship had been attacked, invaded, and ransacked. Whatever this alien was, their brain was used quickly. No one had noticed that  Charles had saved his curly hair. No one had noticed how resolved he had been about  going at all. The first thing he did after leaving the bridge and running through the corridor was shaving including the fancy mustache that Shannon loved. She giggled when they kissed as it tickled her.

Charles slowly sat down into the chair thinking of his wife.

“I consent,” Charles said.

There were several jabs into his head, and other parts of his body.

But they were done gently with care not as fast and non-careful than before. He hung onto the train of thought. A flash of seeing Hugh as a newborn in his arms. The very same memory of making a promise to protect him in whatever way he could. Tears strolled down the man’s cheek. He watched memories of his wife and son, happy memories, growing up and aging. His eyes acting as the camera. His brain acting as the film. A smile grew on his face as the pain circulated throughout. As though the long tendrils were doing something else. Paul passionately talking about mushrooms with Hugh looking at the astromycologist fondly and affectionately even if he didn’t understand a word coming out of his mouth.  Hugh’s hand on top of Paul’s hand. His son’s upcoming husband was going to protect him. And he was going to be, above all, happy.

Next, he was jerked out of those memories to see a unfamiliar woman headed his way. A strange, tall figure with what seemed to be ridges, scales, dressed in black, and a spoon on the center of his forehead.  A orange head individual with slanted eyebrows, curled hair, and pointy ears was covering their shoulders kept up by the lizard like man. The woman had pitch black pupils. She was speaking to him but he couldn’t understand most of the words. She cleared her throat approaching him and spoke in his language. His eyes were caught on her black ones. He could see space. Unexplored places. Stars. Planets. Or maybe it was his imagination. Who was he? Charles Lee Culber the. . . third? second? fifth? He wasn’t entirely sure.

Her name was Bole and she wanted to help him.

“Landing party has returned,” the announcement came.

Suddenly, the Greosciou vanished in a blue flash leaving behind�� a trail of scrap metal behind. T’Pot stood up as there was silence on the damaged bridge. She stared at the screen in complete shock. They killed the beast and freed themselves---but it looked like it warped out of their orbit. There was no word from the head science officer since the earlier departure. T’Pot turned away from the screen, still in complete shock.

“Warp factor one to Earth,” T’Pot requested.

“Aye, captain.” The ship did not move. “uhhh. . ” the helmsmen turned in the direction of T’Pot. “Captain, we have impulse power. It seems. . . Warp is out of the question.”

“Impulse drive it is, then,” T’Pot said. “Bring us home, Ensign.”

“Aye aye, captain,” the ensign turned from T’Pot back to the station.

This time, the ship soared slowly through space. It would take at least two weeks to get back to Earth. Limping along home. The representatives would be dropped off to emergency ships that came by and took them home. It was a highly eventful week let for a starfleet vessel. Her first command was still alive, and some were likely dead. A wave of relief passed through her channeling through to the bond. The smallest of all pleased smiles appeared on her face then vanished.

“Lieutenent Taplay,” T’Pot said, her attention on the communication’s officer. “You have the bridge.”

T’Pot came through the doorway and headed her way down the corridor. She climbed the jefferie tubes to make her way in the direction of sick bay. She heard loud humming. She looked over the edge to see a large roomba cleaning the floor chasing after Gresociou invasive insects. She resumed her climb. Eventually, she slid out of the jefferie tube then made her way down the hall. She went through the doorway.

“Commodores,” T’Pot stopped, seeing Charles laid on a gurney being wheeled in the direction of the surgical room. 

Orego stood, with his head lowered, with a  look of loss.

“He’s gone,” Orego said. “the Commodore I knew isn’t there anymore.”

T’Stonn looked up as his shoulder was being repaired by a nurse.

“Captain,” T’Stonn said. “Sharon Bole gave her life for the commodore.” T’Pot listened intently.  “She easily adjusted to the rapid change and let us depart before she warped out. As it turns out she was more capable of piloting the ship due to being more familiar communicating telepathically and detaching herself from her body.  Commodore Culber was close to being the perfect brain.”

“I see,” T’Pot said, then she glanced off toward the security officers recovering from their injuries and other others lining the sick bay.  She came over toward a science officer. “Have you seen SCO?”

“No, captain,” the ensign said. “I haven’t seen them. . .” the ensign lowered their head then looked up.  “Not since they came in for the request. Maybe they are in the science lab studying the newly preserved dead insects.”

T’Pot nodded in understanding.

“Captain,” Lurille said. “I can send the word out that the Gresociou is gone among the crew.”

“Do that,” T’Pot said.

“Though, we might need to wait a full twenty-four hours before leaving this room,” Lurille said. “just to be sure that these beetles are taken of by Commander Stabby.”

“Indeed,” T’Pot said. “I do have to make several calls to Starfleet command regarding the resolve of this matter.”

The head science officer’s shell would later be found mangled and beyond repair twenty-four-hours afterwards. T’Pot and security worked a way around that to prevent the representatives from knowing. From behind the Starfleet officers, Kirk was sitting next to Spock on a chair next to the biobed while reading a novel to him with the antique glasses. Spock’s legs were in a moveable shell like object and he wore very short shorts. Spock’s hands were cupped together onto his lap purring in content.