#when the EXACT SAME SHIT was used to get the WORST MAN ALIVE into office before????

[hazel2468]

Look-

Anyone who tries telling you that both parties are the same and there is no point in voting? Has a fucking agenda, and it's a nasty one.

Do the Dems disappoint me? Yes, constantly. Do I have gripes with Biden? 100%.

Do I also recognize that he has GOTTEN SHIT DONE and that those things are like. NOT talked about by people my age because it feels better to be angry and constantly demanding better while being unwilling to put up with Average Joe who is ACTUALLY doing things that progressives have been asking for for AGES (putting caps on medication prices, working to cancel student and medical debt, investing in infrastructure and going after inflation, started working on protecting reproductive rights after Trump put in place the shitty judges who wrecked Roe, is trying to go after how weed is scheduled and pardoned all federal offenses, et-fucking-cetera).

Not only do I actually LIKE some of the shit Biden is doing? If Trump gets back in office? People will die. He and his have been OPEN about the fact that they want to go (somehow) even MORE fascist.

Fucking vote. Anyone telling you not to has your worst interests at heart. Be as pissed off as you want, but fucking VOTE. Because we have a chance of continuing to push a president like Biden towards the change we want to see. We have ZERO chance of that with Trump, or someone like him.

[rhysismydaddy]

An Artful Revenge pt. 6 (Feysand)

Part of the Damnation series. 

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

This is the last part of this fic! Gonna work on some asks next, then start the Nessian story (see the link above for details) 

~Feyre~

Men, in general, are beyond stupid.

I honestly don’t even know how the male population is still around.

I mean sure, they have their moments. Fire? Pretty cool. 

Maybe I should amend my statement: Men are stupid when it comes to women.

Because if Tamlin had any common sense, he would wonder why I drag myself into his office downtown, the day after I found out who he really is.

He’d wonder how I even found his posh little office, since he sure as hell never told me about it. (Answer: Rhysand). 

He’d wonder why I’m crying and having an emotional breakdown, but am still dressed in a lowcut dress with my hair done. (Answer: men are even stupider when it comes to a woman with exposed breasts). 

But he doesn’t.

He sees me stumbling toward him, a mess of tears and fluffy hair, and jumps to his feet, coming to my rescue.

His arms wrap around me miraculously at the same time my legs give out, and I fall into him dramatically. 

That was a little much, but what can I say? I was a theatre kid.

“Feyre,” he says calmly, stroking my hair like he didn’t insult me twenty-four hours ago. In fact, he’s acting like we didn’t even break up. “What’s wrong?”

I press my face in his shoulder, trying not to think about how wrong this feels, how wrong he smells. 

Rhysand smells like citrus and the sea and something so manly it makes my knees go weak for real. Tamlin smells like dirt and bad decisions. 

“You were right.” It’s something all men love to hear a woman say, even though it’s hardly ever true. “You were so right, Tamlin.”

He pulls back and runs a thumb over my cheek, swiping a tear away. 

His green eyes question mine, so calm and understanding compared to yesterday’s rage. His hands are gentle as they cradle my face, and I want them off off off.

“He’s a monster,” I wail, dredging up some more tears. Knowing there needs to be more of a concrete reason for my breakdown, I make some pretty seedy shit up. “He... killed his driver! Because he took a wrong turn!”

Gods, Feyre. Really?

I can practically see Rhysand rolling his eyes. He’d see through my lies in a second. 

Tamlin, however, bites the bait... more like he swallows the whole damn line.

He hugs me again, so tight my feet leave the floor, and I go limp against him, pressing all the soft parts of me against the hardness of his chest.

Don’t get me wrong, Tamlin’s attractive. Wide shoulders, surfer boy hair, tan skin, and green eyes that look like the deepest of emerald. 

But he also is a fucking asshole, and everything about him irritates me.

It’s crazy, I think as his hands slip lower on my back, that yesterday he called me a whore, and now he wants to sleep with me.

Prick.

“Tamlin,” I sigh against his neck.

“It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you.”

I almost throw up at the little pet name, but I nod and act like he’s the greatest thing on this planet, the gods’ personal gift to all things women.

But then he kisses me, and I get tired of this little charade. 

I keep my eyes open as his warm lips meet mine, wanting to see his face as the needle sinks into his skin.

His eyes fly open, and he drops me to my feet roughly, a hand pressed against his neck. It’s too late, of course.

Whatever black market shit this is, it works fast. 

His legs give out, and I shove his shoulder so he lands in one of the leather chairs in front of his desk. 

“Feyre,” he growls, no longer happy to see me, “What the fuck are you doing?”

I roll my eyes, because even the dumbest of men should be able to figure that out my now. 

You’d think he’d pass out or be too paralyzed to talk, but just like Rhysand promised me, the drugs have paralyzed him from the neck down but left him perfectly conscious. 

I want him to see exactly what I’m doing.

Straightening my dress, I saunter over to his desk, eyes scanning the messy papers and folders for what I want.

Three rings, the exact copy of Rhysand’s, sit in a glass box, the shining titanium making them look like treasure. And they are.

But they’ve been here fucking long enough. 

I try to open the box, but it’s locked, so I sigh and grab a paperweight, then smash it to bits.

“You do this, Feyre, and I’ll come after you.”

“Ooooh, scary,” I deadpan, completely writing him off in a way I know drives him crazy.

Glass flies everywhere, but I just grab the rings and put them on whatever fingers they’ll fit on. 

Yet another piece of evidence men are idiots: I was wearing Rhysand’s ring when I walked in here.

A small detail, sure, but when I took that ring from him yesterday in his car, I made a vow to never take it off.

It’s a little big, resting on my thumb, but it’s perfect. 

It means I’m his, and he’s mine.

“He might have Chicago, but I’ll make you’re life miserable!”

“You did that for two years,” I remind him with a smile.

Then I set the radio exactly like I’d been told to, turn back to Tamlin, punch him square in the jaw, and smile when I hear a crunch.

That wasn’t exactly part of the plan, but I was tired of his threats. 

He howls in pain, and I know it makes me meaner than an adder, but I blow him a kiss and laugh as I walk out of his office. 

A sleek black sedan, driven by the very much alive Rolando (I’ve officially stopped thinking of him as Beefcakes), waits for me at the curb. I swing the door open and climb in, turning to Rhysand with a grin.

I hold up my hands victory. 

Rhysand smiles and laughs, relief and love and awe written across his beautiful features. 

He’s so fucking handsome, I can’t hold out anymore.

Muttering an apology to Rolando for what he’s about to witness, I sling myself across the leather seat and pretty much attack Rhysand. 

It might be the fact that I just drugged someone with illegal substances--my very first crime!--or maybe just how he looks when he’s happy. I don’t really care.

My hands are on his jaw, running down his chest, tangling in his hair. 

He lets out a surprised laugh as I paw at him, and I use the opportunity to sweep my tongue into his mouth, holding back a moan at the taste of him.

The car stops, but I sure as hell don’t.

Until Rhysand takes me shoulders in his hands, and gently pulls away. “Adrenaline junkie,” he accuses with a smile, pressing one last kiss to my cheek. 

I nod, because it’s probably true.

He gives me an amused look. “Then I can’t wait for what happens in twenty minutes.”

I stick my tongue out at him, ever the mature adult, and he smiles. Then he takes my hands, examines the rings, and takes the two that fit the worst.

He slips them on, and even though it’s a casual gesture, I almost break out into tears.

Too manly to cry like a baby, Rhysand just opens the door and walks out, taking my hand and pulling me with him.

Even though he looks calm and cool as a cucumber, I know he’s not exactly thrilled I’m here. We had our first real argument about me coming along for this part of the plan I’ve secretly begun to call Toppling Tamlin the Tool. 

I won, obviously.

He warned me time and time again about what I was going to witness today, but I don’t care. His revenge is his to take, but I want to be here for him. 

He’s been fighting for so long, completely alone. 

And no matter how it started, I fell for him. He isn’t alone anymore, and won’t be ever again, no matter how dangerous the situation is.

Hand in hand, we stroll into Leperchaun’s Luck, the last remaining Irish stronghold in Chicago.

When I asked why he’d let it remain all this time, Rhysand smiled that cruel smile and said, “Revenge is only worth it if it’s slow and painful.”

I’d shuddered, half in horror and half in excitement.

I know it’s horrible and beyond absurd, but what he does for a living doesn’t scare me. He explained the gory details last night, and I listened. And even though I was scared, it wasn’t of him.

It was for him.

He has enemies with rap sheets longer than my arm. 

The guy Rhysand blocks from buying Degas? Russian arms dealer!

But Chicago, he’d told me with a smile, is his. Someone would have to be suicidal to come after him here. So I guess I’ll just blow up his plane and never let him leave.

Sounds realistic.

I’d like to think it was my smile and charm that made him give in and let me tag along, but it was likely the fact that we aren’t in any super big dangerous. 

We walk through the empty bar and to the courtyard in the back, and it’s a little amusing how quickly the six men sitting around a poker table jump to their feet and start shouting questions. 

“What the fuck?” is the most popular. 

“Hello, gentlemen,” Rhysand greets smoothly, ever the gentleman. 

Someone behind us loads a gun, the sound making my eyes go wide. 

But it’s never fired.

Because all of a sudden, red dots are on every single chest besides mine and Rhysand’s. 

“Pull that trigger, McCallen, and all your friends die.”

They all look down and around at each other with huge, saucer-sized eyes. 

Not one to dally, Rhysand smiles and tells the group, “I just bought this establishment. Needless to say, you’re no longer welcome. In here, or Chicago. You have six hours to leave my city.”

‘Bought’ is a bit of a strong word. He hacked into Tamlin’s bank account and bankrupted him, forcing him to sell to the highest bidder. Guess who that was.

“Or what?” one asks, feeling brave.

Another dot makes its way to his chest.

Gods, how many snipers does Rhysand have?

“Or you’ll die, and your precious little daughter Lena will be an orphan.”

The man’s jaw sets, even as his face pales. 

Checking his watch with a casual gesture, Rhysand reminds, “Six hours and counting.”

Then he says, directly at the small box in the middle of the poker table, “That goes for you too, Tamlin.” 

Since he didn’t want to risk coming back to Chicago, much less his last property here, Tamlin had been keeping control of his men by listening to everything that happened in this place on a private radio frequency.

Which, somehow, Rhysand knew.

He’d told me the number, and I’d turned the radio in Tamlin’s office to it before leaving. The drugs haven’t left his system and won’t until later today, meaning he’s still lying limp in that chair, listening to every word.

“Leave before I lose my patience,” Rhysand growls, and the men take the warning and haul ass out of the building.

Turning to me, he smiles and asks, “Ready, Feyre darling?”

“Ready.”

We walk out of the restaurant again, pep definitely in our steps, then get back in the car. Rolando starts driving immediately, leaving the restaurant behind us.

“Do you want to-”

“Yes,” I answer immediately, grabbing the phone from him and hitting call.

"So violent,” he murmurs with a smirk, turning in his seat to watch as the explosives he’d placed there years ago during a mandatory “city inspection” finally came into use. 

The explanation I got on that one: “In case I got bored.”

Gods, he’s sexy.

The car rocks slightly as orange and blue and yellow flames race out of the building, leaving absolutely nothing behind. 

Even though the violent woman in me wants to keep watching, I look at Rhysand instead.

His eyes find mine, and he smiles softly. “It’s done. It’s over.”

I nod and press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, linking our hands together. We both stare down at the rings. “It’s over.”

Tamlin will run back to wherever he’s been the past seven months, and since there’s absolutely nothing for him here, he won’t come back. 

Rhysand has complete control of the city again, his empire built brick by brick through hard work and rage. He’s gotten his revenge, taken everything from the man who left him with nothing. 

And he got me.

“Was that enough adrenaline for you, Feyre?” he asks, hitting a button to roll up the barrier between us and Rolando. 

Someone else, it seems, is an adrenaline junkie. 

Smiling, I slide down on the soft leather and lift an eyebrow. “Come find out.”

~Feyre, three months later~

Somehow, I feel nauseous, excited, and doomed all at once.

I don’t even know how that’s possible, but it’s true.

I’m so nervous, I might be sick. I’m so excited, I can hardly walk. I’m so unsure of myself, I might fail. 

Focusing on the one in the middle, I walk down the aisle between chairs, ignoring the people watching me and focusing on the destination.

I can feel his eyes on me, and just like the first day we met, I can hardly breathe. But I ignore the tingly feeling in my spine and focus on what I’m doing.

I walk up to the slightly lifted stage in the large auditorium and turn to my peers, smiling and feigning confidence. 

I’m presenting my senior project today. And even though I’m excited and nervous and doomed, I’m proud of it.

It turned out better than I expected, honestly. 

It took me forever to finish the painting aspect because I wasn’t quite satisfied until late last night. 

The paint’s interrupted and surrounded by photos I’ve collected this year.

Rhysand, covered in paint. Art from both Chicago’s museum and the private collection I visit almost every day. Random bits of architecture and the night sky and shots that just work. 

Up close, it’s a bit of a mess, but from a distance--particularly, the distance between me and Rhysand’s chair--it looks like three dancers, twirling and leaping under the night sky. 

My professor hugged me when she saw it. So did Rhysand.

No offense to Prof. Jones, but I enjoyed his a little more.

“This is called Starlight Dancers,” I tell the room, my voice surprisingly level. I’m glad for the bright lights, because I can’t see anyone’s actual face as I continue. “It’s a rendition of Degas’s work, Dancers in Blue, which is my favorite piece. I’ve also incorporated photographs of art and people who mean a lot to me. Like a lot of pieces from the Renaissance, it’s meant to be viewed at a distance.”

I keep talking, going through the difference elements and explaining how, essentially, it’s a celebration of painting and love.

More than once, my eyes are drawn to the photographs of Rhysand, and I find myself searching for him in the crowd. 

I also get a little distracted by the mass of sparkles adorning my ring finger.

We’ve been engaged for three days, eight hours, and a handful of minutes.

He proposed in the museum, right where we met. When I almost feinted at the site of the biggest diamond I’d ever seen and told him it was too much, he’d just laughed and said, “It was this or the painting behind you.”

Ridiculous, wonderful man. 

I know it’s fast to get married after less than five months together, but the scary truth is that I can’t imagine life without him.

I scan the crowd again, and it might be my imagination, but I think I see a pair of violet eyes watching me. 

And I could swear one winks at me.

~Rhysand~

I’m not supposed to be in here.

I’m not a professor, and I’m sure as shit not a student. 

But I snuck in anyway, ignoring the millions of things I actually need to be doing, because I want to support her. 

I don’t even know what she’s talking about--impressionism and romantic elements and different types of photography--but she’s so passionate and beautiful, I can’t take my eyes off her.

She has me completely wrapped around her finger, and it should probably scare me that I don’t even care.

Years and years of planning, and everything that’s happened in the past month still surprised me.

Not the part about running every last Irish bastard out of my city; that’d been set in stone. 

The part about me getting engaged.

Ironically, that’s the only part that makes me smile.

Sure, I sent Tamlin running for the hills with his ragged band of leprechauns, set his stronghold on fire, and finally have peace over what happened all those years ago. 

But even that pales in comparison to waking up next to the woman up on the stage.

She’s a bed hog and always puts her freezing feet on me as soon as I crawl next to her, but the way she smiles at me when she wakes up makes up for it.

Everything about her makes up for it, actually. 

She’s still absolutely crazy and wonderful and I now have paint splatters on more than a few of my suits, but being loved by her is like... standing in the sun after being locked in a cave. Or some other shitty metaphor.

The fucking point is, even though getting down on one knee in a museum and asking her to share her life with me is the last thing I expected to happen, I’m glad it did.

Because being with her gives me something I’d thought I’d lost ten years ago: happiness.

________________________________________

Thank you for reading! 

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[angeli-marco-writes]

Steve Rogers - Promise

A/N - So, this is my first marvel imagine? I haven’t watched all the films yet, I’m halfway through and watching them all in chronological order, but I couldn’t resist because I love Steve Rogers. So much. Once I’ve finished watching, I'll probably realise a shit tonne of mistakes in this, but please don’t judge. Apologies for any typos and incorrect information. GIF credits to owner.

Warnings - angst, smut so 18+ please; fingering, unprotected sex (don’t do it), borderline ‘captain’ kink, 5k.

Summary - you’re an admin worker in stark tower, an average working girl except for one thing, you have a superior memory, one that has aided you many a time. But when you’re leading Cap on a mission and it gets cut off, is it because of your memory, or are you just letting your crush on Steve cloud any reasonable thinking?

YOU LOVE YOUR JOB, there’s no denying it. You’re young, a Brit in America, just working to help with your future, but after how well it’s been going recently? You don’t think you’ll want to leave. 

You’re an admin at Stark Tower. Not that one is really needed with all of Tony’s tech, and the fact that everyone is more than capable of sorting themselves out, it’s just fun to be around. Not only do you complete all the stenography and spreadsheets that don’t necessarily have to do with anyone specific, but you also do many of the more artistic plans and are everyone’s personal therapist. You probably don’t help your own cause - leaving your door propped open with a book to let anyone drift in and out of their own accord at any given time, unless you’re properly working, and then they know to find you in your office. Yes, your very own office.

Recently, with you becoming more and more familiar with the workings of all the residents, growing more knowledgeable of their work lives, picking up the lingo and everyone’s gladness at your perfect, imperturbable memory, you’re slowly being given more tasks. This could be anything from mission reassignment to looking through months old footage, but you’ve been helping out over the system on a couple of missions. You really feel like one of the team even though you know you’re far from it. Sleeping in the tower helps, as well as being welcomed by everyone every meal time that you sit together, especially the way they test your memory trick and always seem completely amazed at how you remember the most obscure details. Anything from the exact positioning of a birth mark on someone that Natasha took down the first week you began working, to the precise measurement of metal that Tony needed to complete a new project, to the freckle on Steve’s bare ass that one time he had to use your shower-

That escalated quickly. 

Currently, you’re in your office, daydreaming and completely wistfully thinking. You have no trouble remembering every conversation you and Steve have ever had, not that many admittedly, but he’s always been so kind to you. He was the first one to truly make you feel part of the team, welcoming you with a hug before holding you at arms length and brushing a crease from the arm of your blouse. You’re not really sure if he’d seen anyone dress that way, since all the girls he was around were always in their kick ass clothes, gym shorts or comfies, so you wandering around day in day out and wearing frilly Victorian-era blouses paired with short, tight pencil skirts and Louboutin stilettos may have been a shock to his system. It wasn’t with any agenda in mind that you did this, merely a mix of modesty and business woman style. Every word Cap has ever said flies through your mind, the impeccable memory of the way his exquisite nylon suit clings to him in all the right places... 

Steve is the only guy you’ve fancied for a while, the only person you’ve ever really gone for emotionally, and all of that is because he’s such a cute human being; so genuine, so upbeat around you, so supportive, and his smile. Goddamn his smile. He’s just too cute for life, which is also why you should really be concentrating, considering you’re supposed to be monitoring his mission. 

“Y/N, are you there? I think somethings happening, someone’s here that we didn’t know about, where do I go?”

His usually soft voice is frantic, and you can tell he’s a little scared, since this was supposed to be a simple solo mission, in and out, but now you’re having to recite an escape route. 

“Turn left at the end of that corridor, half way down there’s a grate on the wall. Pull it off, climb inside.” You tell him as calmly as you can, but even your heart is beating out of your chest, breathing laboured and a slight sweat forming on your forehead. 

“I’m in, sweetheart. What next?” Not the right time for your heart to flutter at his words, especially not the time to imagine the way his raspy morning voice would curl around those very same Few words...

“Follow the route, it’ll bring you out in a downstairs kitchen area that was empty last time I checked, I’ll look again...” you trail off, clicking off the one screen with the dot of his whereabouts to check the surveillance, and he seems to be safe. 

You hear his breathing calm down as he crawls through the ventilation system, but even as you flick through every camera that you’ve been able to access in the building he’s in and the surrounding area, nothing seems to be out of the ordinary apart from a couple of unconscious, probably dead blokes scattered across stone floors.

“I’m in the kitchen, but there’s no doors in here, no way out.” He says. 

Fuck.

Your heart sinks to your feet.

“Yes there is Steve, it’s on the north wall beside a faux, oversized spice rack. It has a silver handle and it’s an oak door, exactly like my bedroom door.”

He pauses, his heart rate thrumming heavily, “sweetheart there’s no door here, there’s no spice rack, just old built in cabinets and flat walls. You must have misremembered.”

���Shut the fuck op Steve, I’m doing what I can,”

Your usual eloquence is out the window along with all of your chill, sounding mildly like a road man as you frantically tap between the screens. He’s right though, his only way out is to climb back in the vent and hope to god, well, or Thor, that no one finds him there, but that may be too late.

“Try the cold tap on the sink, I don’t know exactly what was said but I distinctly remember someone talking about it. Stay calm for me Cap, please.” You want to beg for him to be ok, to come back in one piece, because this isn’t a normal mission, you’re emotionally attached. 

He takes a deep breath and walks over to the tap, but as soon as he touches it, all surveillance is cut off, your computer goes black, and you can’t even hear his breathing anymore. 

“Steve? Cap, come back to me, can you hear me? Steve?” With each call of his name to which he doesn’t respond, you grow more frantic. The lights are still on so you know that it’s not the mains, but you’re not educated with circuits, so you do what you can to reboot your computer, only for it to show up with your bland screen of spreadsheets, sans anything about the mission or Steve.

Your hands start shaking, lip quivering and mind overwhelmed with stress. It’s over, you’ve lost Steve, fucked up the mission, you’ll be out of a job, and the worst part? You broke a promise. 

“Promise you’ll keep me safe out there Y/N?” Steve asked, his cute little smile twinkling in his eyes and making your whole body go giddy.

“I promise, but you have to promise that you’ll come back in one piece.”

“That I can do, for you.” He murmured, wrapping his arms around your body and placing a kiss to your hairline. 

You haven’t been at the compound long enough to know whether this is normal for Steve, or for anyone, or if he’s just a natural flirt. Whatever it is, you feel too guilty to face him again if he even comes back alive. 

Slowly, soft sobs start to escape your lips without you noticing, tears slipping down your cheeks and dampening the neck of your blouse. You can’t help the guilt that overtakes you, the fear that you can’t even reason, and that’s when you hear a soft knock on your door.

“Can I come in?”

It’s Natasha. You nod gently as she takes a seat in the corner of your room, throwing her feet up on your coffee table so nonchalantly that it’s almost not a challenge of authority. 

“What’s up? Didn’t you have to radio for Cap?” Once again you nod, hastily wiping the tears from your face and smoothing your skirt out. “So, why are you crying?”

You like Natasha, of course you do, but you have normal people emotions and a little more conscience, unable to stand the thought of anyone even getting a papercut on your watch. 

“He went off, the computers crashed, and it’s all my fault.” You say, standing up and moving to shut your office door, locking it for safekeeping, because if Bucky finds out then you’re dead. 

Natasha grabs a lollipop from your sweet bowl and sticks it in her mouth, swirling her tongue around it, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think she’s flirting. She’s not, that’s just Natasha. “Care to elaborate?”

You take a sharp breath, “someone was there that we didn’t calculate, I had to get him through the ventilation system to an abandoned kitchen that I KNOW had a door, my memory doesn’t glitch, so in the time it took for Steve to get through the vents, someone must’ve closed off the door, but I’m not sure how. Then he just went when he touched the only possible thing that could be an escape route. Fuck, what if he’s dead?”

You feel tears bubbling up in your eyes again, blinking harshly to keep them away. 

“So what if he is? You’re smart, you’re panicking, so you’ve obviously done everything. It sounds harsh but you can’t get too attached. Just listen out and he’ll come back of his own accord, but if he doesn’t then we’ll have to deal with that later.” She says, grasping a hand around your shoulder before  stepping over the threshold to the main compound, leaving you alone with your thoughts. 

Maybe she thought tough love would work, but she has a point. You’ve done everything you can, so now it’s just a waiting game.

You keep an ear piece on you but shut your office for the night, heading out to the bar to pour yourself a more than healthy sized glass of wine. You unbutton your shirt a little and slide down the wall to your favourite reading spot, in one far corner, you set up some cushions and bedding. You’re the only one that uses it, but you could swear that you’ve seen Steve eyeing it up before. So you sit, tears streaming down your cheeks and leaving you with mascara-stained tear tracks, the first few buttons of your shirt recklessly undone, and your heels flung elsewhere. You bring the bottle over with your glass, and you pick up a book to keep you distracted. 

You’re not sure how long you sit there, guilt slowly building, occasionally calling Steve’s name to check if he’s come back on the system, but there’s nothing. Nothing until the lift doors open, and out walks a very bloody Cap with his suit half on and a skin tight white t-shirt clinging to his upper body.

The tears don’t stop falling from your eyes, but you close your book anyway. You would stand up, run to hug him, but your legs can’t hold you up, so you stay seated, all your words caught in your throat as Steve edges further across the common area towards you. 

He offers you a shy smile, virtually collapsing into the carpet only metres from you. Slowly his head lifts, hair falling into his eyes, and he holds his arms out. 

“Oh god Steve,” it’s him. Really him. You feared he’d be a hologram or something, your eyes deceiving you from their soreness post crying. But he’s here, you can tell from the overly memorised display of veins in his bicep when he offers you his arm. 

“It’s me,” he nods, edging a little further towards you as you crawl closer and settle into his grip. 

Your tears flow freely, dampening his shirt. Neither of you says a word, he just grips you closer to him, cuddling your legs into his lap to soothe you.

After a while, Steve fidgets, and you find your eyes dry. 

You angle your head upwards, your well kept chignon completely haywire. Steve’s face is covered in bruises and dried blood, but his eyes don’t look at all worried. 

“What happened?” You whisper, words vibrating through his chest. 

“The tap was a trick, or maybe I twisted the wrong one, but all the lights went out and I was shocked, I had to attack a few guys but I made it out, albeit bruised.” He swallows, running a shy finger over the curves of your face. “Were you worried about me?”

You nod, clutching him close. He chuckles and draws circles on your back through your shirt, just his soft touch more comforting than anything else. 

“I’m fine, sweetheart, is my nose broken though?”

You look at his nose, softly smoothing over a hell of a bruise, before placing a gentle kiss to the bridge. 

“No, trust me. In British comps, fights happen daily, and my ex was in with a bad crowd, always in fights. I had to deal with all kinds of injuries, and your nose is not broken. Be grateful because it hurts to sort it out.”

He laughs and brings you in.

“You deserve so much better than someone like that. I was worried about you when I was out there you know...” he says.

A strange conversation transition, but who are you to judge. 

“I was so scared, I thought you’d died,” ah shit, here come the tears again, “Natasha told me to just wait it out like I wasn’t completely emotionally attached to you. Bloody hell, Steve, I’d be responsible if you died.”

He cooes sweet reassurances in your ear, wrapping his arms entirely around your torso while the join between his neck and shoulder becomes your sanctuary.

“I’m emotionally attached to you too if that helps,” he whispers in your ear, so quietly that he hopes you didn’t hear, instantly regretting it. But with the soft kiss you place on the sweet spot just below his ear, he brings up all his courage to angle his head just right, capturing your lips in his in the sweetest of kisses. 

You gasp into the kiss, your reaction giving Steve means to believe you didn’t like it, instantly pulling away and dropping his hands from around your body.

“I-I’m sorry, you’re upset and I took advantage of that, and I haven’t really been with anyone since, well...”

“Shut up and kiss me, Steve.” You command, cutting off his rambling, your hand cupping his cheek. 

His hands slowly make their way around your body, fumbling for the bottom of your blouse and subsequently unable to find where your shirt ends and your skirt starts. You giggle a little into the kiss, taking the opportunity to deepen the kiss by delving his tongue into your mouth. You place your hands over his and guide them to your chest. For a second, he seems confused, his lips halting their massaging movements on your own, until he finds the open buttons at the top of your blouse. He pulls his lips away for a moment, breath mingling together in the air. His smells of strawberries, you note. He glances at you for reassurance, something which you eagerly give, so he begins. His hands slowly work their way over your chest, fingers fiddling with your buttons as you wait patiently, completely submissive for Steve to do whatever he wants to you. 

He pushes the material from your shoulders, and you untuck the back of it from your skirt, allowing it to fall to the floor, revealing your bra. Though now you see Steve eyeing it up, you realise it’s not really a bra at all, rather two triangles of flimsy fabric with some bands and strings attached, one of your only bras that doesn’t show through a sheer blouse. The way his eyes are boggling at your tits though, you guess he likes it. 

An unwitting blush creeps up your neck and cheeks, suddenly feeling cold under his scrutiny.

“You can touch them if you want,” you chuckle lightly, fearing that you’ll sound like an inexperienced teenager if you say more. 

Steve blushes as crimson as you, his large hands leaping at the opportunity to feel you. You throw your head back in pleasure as his cold thumb rubs over your nipples, making them hard to the touch, and the rest of his hands get to work massaging and kneading your boobs, pulling down the fabric to softly kiss your bare skin. 

Although he hasn’t done this in a while, well, a lifetime, he still knows how to do it realllly well. 

Your hands fly to his heart, keeping him there, his lips switching between your breasts until you grow a little more needy, grinding down on his bulge. 

“You wanna do this?” He asks, voice a little hoarse but still silky. 

“Yes, Steve. Fuck, just take me.”

“Language,” he chides jokingly, but despite that, he agrees. 

Clearly he doesn’t need to be asked twice, because he has you flipped beneath him with your back on your cushions in your reading corner, his lips attaching your neck. 

You fumble with the bottom of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head between kisses and suckles to a sensitive spot on your neck. He’s carved like a Greek god, abs toned to perfection, his tanned skin rippling with any given movement. He feels so soft too, skin tender beneath your fingers, trailing them gently across his back and torso to simply feel him. The contrary of gentle skin and solid muscles is one that makes your mouth water with desire, bringing Cap’s lips back to your own, palms pressed firmly against his back. You go in deep this time, licking his mouth and devouring his taste. To your surprise, he kisses you back with even more fervour, so passionate that you lose track of any thought swirling in your mind. 

“Suit off, now.” You call breathlessly, watching on as Steve clumsily tries to peel off his trousers by using the sleeve of his suit. He’s moving so recklessly that with an abrupt movement he’ll snag the fabric, ripping the suit that makes him look heaven sent. 

“Here,” you giggle, offering a hand out which he gladly takes, letting you shimmy the tough material down his legs, only blocked by his clunky boots which he kicks off at the same time as the suit, haphazardly leaving them wherever they fall in the lounge. “Fuck.” Is all you can choke out. The serum worked on everything. Even with his briefs still on, you can see his cock twitching within its confines.

“You’re wearing too many clothes now,” he faux scolds, leaping atop you again, kissing your collarbone as his hands work their way down your body. 

First he unhooks your bra properly, throwing it off and you both hear it land on the glass coffee table from the way your clasp knocks the glass. Next he moves onto your skirt, unzipping it, your hips raising of their own accord to accommodate his actions, slipping it off alongside your tights, revealing your bare legs to him for the first time. He doesn’t care about any of the natural marks that grace your skin, merely that you’re sitting in just your panties and only for him. 

“God you’re so beautiful,” he says.

He runs his palms over your thighs, just feeling your skin beneath his. His touch is soothing, as is his presence, allowing you to feel open towards him. You tilt your legs a little more open, revealing to him the small wet latch that graces your not-so-sexy work underwear. 

“All for me?” Steve asks, eyes innocent and doe like. 

If he’s really this sweet and naive then you’re gonna fucking ruin him. Sweet Jesus what you wouldn’t do to that man, starting with your incredibly well hidden Captain kink, though it may not be hidden much longer.

He brings a finger up to your core, pushing your panties to the side to run a finger up and down your slit. He audibly moans while collecting your slick from between your folds, fingers rough in contrast to the part of his body that you’re gripping onto, though you’re not sure quite where from your eyes fluttering closed. 

“Ready?”

You nod, bracing yourself as he rips your panties off and pushes one finger inside you. He feels brilliant, his fingers so much longer and better than your own, already bringing you jolts of pleasure from its presence. 

He draws it out before pumping back in again, continuing his movements. Your forehead falls against his bare shoulder, small gasps of pleasure escaping your open mouth.

“More,” you pant, ready to feel more of his intoxicating ministrations. 

He nods obligingly, slowly adding a second finger, continuing his gentle assault on your pussy. God, it’s been so long since you’ve had sex, just his two fingers pumping in and out of you brings you more pleasure than you’d care to admit. 

“S-stop,” 

He looks up at you, immediately withdrawing his fingers, covered in your juices and glistening in the moonlight. You flush far too deeply at such a simple thing. 

“I need to feel you already, please.”

You sensually drag your finger all over his bare chest, hearing his breath hitch in his throat. He nods vigorously, hair falling in his line of vision, but scrambles to be on top of you properly, hands either side of your head on your array of cushions and his legs steady, trapping you completely beneath him. 

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna take advantage of you, y/n. You’re so beautiful and perfect and I want your first time with me to be something you’ll remember forever.” He says sweetly, but despite his kind words, you can’t help but chuckle for a solid few seconds before he realises what he’s said. 

“Ok, but are you sure you wanna do it here rather than my room? Yours is out of the option, everyone will assume you’re dead if your book isn’t there anymore...” 

once more you chuckle, as does he, bringing your hand up to cup his jaw. 

“I’m sure, Steve, now get inside me before I change my mind and wake Bucky up,” you quip. 

He knows you’re joking but gets to work anyway, swiftly getting rid of his brokers and ungracefully kicking them off as you watch him. He may be hot but even Loki’s magic may not be able to make him elegant. 

As soon as he’s back in his previous position and you see is dick slapping against his stomach, hard and already a little red, you can’t help but gape. His too-tight boxers didn’t do him justice because now you’re worried he won’t even fit. 

He sees your worried face and panics, “We can go back if you want, we don’t have to do this.”

“I want this Steve, shitting hell-“

“Language,” he chides, interrupting you, allowing you to cock your eyebrows at him, a look to say ‘is this really the time?’

“I’ve never wanted anything more in my life, just go slow because you’re huge.” You finish, smiling at his dorky smile and flushed cheeks. 

Of all the things he could blush at, he chooses a compliment. Such a dork, you think to yourself, unable to stop the contagious smile creeping onto your face.

“I’ll be careful with you, I promise.”

And that he is. 

“Oh, and call me captain.”

That’s something you knew he’d have a kink for, making you smirk a little too. 

He runs the head of his cock through your folds to father a little lubrication before pushing in, very slightly and very gently. He bends his arms and kisses all over your face with the new leverage, feather light kisses of pure affection before you give him a breathy whisper, resembling of a ‘more’, so he pushes in a bit more again, repeating the process until he’s buried to the hilt inside your aching core, clenching around him without Steve even needing to do anything. 

“Can I start moving?” He asks, awkwardly shifting his weight above you, but you nod vigorously, kissing him urgently as his lips begin to move. 

He starts off slow, gradual thrusts, ensuring that he finds every weak spot inside or you, making your toes curl already and your legs knot around his waist, his tongue still dancing with yours. 

He increases his pace after a while, bucking into you faster, making you moan out his name and clutch onto his wonderfully broad shoulders.

You pull your lips away for a moment, “more Captain,” you ask, nothing more than a breathy sound, but Steve obliges. 

He breaks the kiss as he begins snapping his hips into yours with fervour and purpose. His balls are hitting your bare ass, his cock stuffed inside you and making the most delectable sounds from how wet you are, all for Steve. He looks down, tearing his gaze away from your pretty little face with your die eyes and parted lips, only to watch as he sinks into you again and again, blurring the lines of where he ends and you begin.

“Steve, Captain, please, talk to me,” 

Your words come out as a strangled cry, a beg mixing with his moan at the name, oxygen lessening as your eyes flutter shut, too engrossed in the pleasure to even care that your voice has gone up in pitch while his has gone down. 

“You’re such a tease, walking around in that tight skirt all day, those long legs always crossed. All I want is to pull them apart and go down on you, under your desk, in the kitchen, just anywhere that I can have you for my own.” 

His voice is low, raspy and needy as he trails his tongue along your collarbone filthily, forcing your eyes open with some unearthly force he must possess simply so that he can meet your gaze as he bites your nipples, his cock continually hitting that sweet spot inside you. 

“It’s not just that though,” he continues, resuming his dirty talk between caresses of his lips all over you, “you’re so perfect. So stunning, so intelligent, the reason I wake up every day just for the hope that one of these days I’d be able to kiss you.”

his hips halt just for a moment, long enough to unwrap your legs from his back and throw them over his shoulders, lust filled eyes boring into your own with an uncharacteristically devilish smirk. 

He kisses you again, fleeting but passionate before he nibbles your earlobe and purrs,

“And now I get to have you at my mercy, and believe me, that desk fantasy is gonna come true every day.”

With that sentiment, he starts ploughing into you even more ferociously than before, making you scream his name, a lot of murmured ‘Captain!’s and curses mingling with the cries. 

The new angle hits spots you forgot even existed. Your nails take his back, tugging in and clinging on for mercy, the burn of your legs in such a contorted position only adding to your pleasure.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” you shout breathlessly, chest heaving, your boobs moving up and down of their own accord and Steve is unable to take his eyes off them.

You feel the coil ready to spring in your stomach, a climax that’s been steadily building since he first kissed you. 

“Tell me what you’re gonna do with me tomorrow, and then you can come.”

His words are something forbidden, coaxing you off the edge, daring you to hit that wave of pleasure. Just the thought of your past daydreams make your walls clench around him. 

“I’ll wake you up by sucking your magnificent cock, then I’ll ride you harder than anyone has ever before, and then I’ll ride your face before we have intermittent sex in my office, at least twice.”

You don’t even know what you’re saying, your imagination running winks with the thought of Steve having you in his lap in your desk chair, pressed up against the glass of your office for everyone to see as he fucks you senseless. You’re insatiable. The thought of his dick twitching in your mouth is too much to handle, especially as he brings his thumb down and presses on your clit, moaning unintelligibly at your apparently sexy words, and you feel it. 

Your orgasm crashes over you so hard that you feel it on your bones, thrashing around beneath Steve, screaming out his name as he dudes your high out only seconds before coming too, his muffled cries of your name drowned out as he bites onto the juncture of your neck, bruising it and rendering you unable to wear anything other than polo necks for a good few days. The pleasure he’s given you is unrivalled, and you can’t waist for more.

His body collapses onto yours inelegantly, wrapping you unto his body warmth in your cosy little corner, both forgetting that you’re completely naked in the common area after having rather loud sex. 

“Was that good?” Steve asks sheepishly, fingers running through your tangled hair.

“Yes, incredible. And for you?”

He thinks for a moment before answering, “exquisite, sweetheart.”

Your heart glows a little at his sleepy voice. You run your thumb over the bump of his nose and the blood residue still on his face, but you think you may like Steve a little roughed up. You stay close to each other, breathing together and sharing kisses in the night time, so absorbed in your own bubble that you don’t hear someone come in.

“The fuck is this, Steve?”

Fuck, Bucky. 

“Couldn’t you have been a little better at aiming your clothes? We’re all glad you’re finally together, but loud and untidy as well as sex in the common area? Come on.”

You can hear the humour in his words, but they do hold some sincerity, making you blush and chuckle. Next thing you know, your bra is being thrown at the pair of you, landing in Steve’s messed up hair.

“Thanks buck...” you say with a meek giggle, kissing Steve and removing your bra from his face.

“Round two? My room?” He suggests, eyebrows wiggling. 

“Promise you’ll let me clean you up first?!” You insist, kissing his shoulder and beaming at him. 

“Promise.”

[whenimaunicorn]

Holiday Party from Hell

Bobo Del Rey x Reader

Words: 1775 Rating: T Summary: You and Bobo are both full of surprises tonight. The first one: that this revenant would even show up to your corporate holiday party. No content warnings.

Oh no. No no no, this cannot be happening right now.

You shudder as you hear that oh-so-familiar rasping voice cutting through the soft chatter of your company’s holiday party. “The punch is just delightful! Judith, did you make this?”

You knew they were inviting clients this year. The past three quarters had shown record profits and so your company had rented out the most expensive venue around for a little thank-you soiree. You just...it had slipped your mind that a certain construction firm owned by a certain Mr. Del Rey was one of those clients.

You try to duck out of the main party room while his fur-coated back is turned, but you end up right in his line of sight as his head swivels at the exact worst moment, almost preternaturally fast, into your direction. “Y/N!” he exclaims, loud and thick with razor-sharp cheer, “I was hoping I’d see you here!”

And to make matters so much worse, your direct supervisor just happens to be standing right next to you as Bobo Del Rey approaches with a brimming cup of punch in each hand. “Mr. Del Rey,” Justin greets him warmly. “I didn’t think you had been working with Y/N at all. How did she get involved on your contract?”

“She didn’t,” Bobo says, thrusting one cup at you as your boss looks expectantly between the two of you. No chance you can get away with being rude, now. You accept the cup but remind yourself not to drink from it. “Ms. Y/L/N and I have . . . other entanglements.” His fingers flutter against the edge of his cup.

If there had been punch in your mouth, you probably would have spit it. What was he trying to make it sound like? “We’re in the same darts league,” you say, thinking fast.

The truth is, you’re kind of a consultant for Wynonna Earp and the cops. Your NDA prevents you from giving them anything dirty on Bobo’s business entanglements, but you also happen to have a knowledge base of a more occult variety that has helped them out on a number of their other cases already. And also run you afoul of the head honcho of the local hell squad. More than once. You’re probably the only person in this room that knows the real threat that “Mr. Del Rey” poses.

“Darts, huh?” Justin says, continuing the conversation while you and Bobo stare each other down through the twinkling lights and safe, festive music. “You do that in bars, right?” He shakes his head. “You’ve got to watch out in those kinds of places, Y/N. All kinds of unsavory types.”

“Oh, she knows.” Bobo inches his hip in a little closer to yours. “I think that’s why she keeps coming around. Likes that little taste of danger.”

Ugh. He’s going to run his mouth until he gets you in trouble, isn’t he. Your boss is backing away slowly, a rictus smile plastered across his uncomfortable face. Although, it is just a little satisfying to watch someone make that patronizing bastard be the one to feel self-conscious for a change. “We all gotta do something that’ll make us feel alive, right?” you say, not exactly looking at either one of them. “Blow off some steam at the end of the rat race.”

Justin gives you an incredulous look. “Think I’ll stick to my bridge club, thanks.” He pretends to see someone waving at him across the room. A quick check shows you no one is looking even remotely in his direction. “Excuse me.”

Bobo sidles in even closer. “Bet that felt good,” he intones.

You release your sudden deep breath in a burst. “Kind of.”

“You know, if you’ve been needing to blow off a little steam—"

You dodge as it feels like he’s trying to put his arm around you. “Seriously?”

Bobo peers at you from under heavy brows, undeterred in the slightest by your rejection. “I’m always serious.”

The moment is broken by another coworker, shouting your name across the room. “It’s time,” the office manager, Judith, calls. “Get over here!”

Oh no. When you’d agreed to rehearse the cute little line dance set to “Jingle Bell Rock” with the crew from your half of the office building, it was only because you figured no one embarrassing would be here to witness it.

Bobo’s head cocks. “Time for what?” He can’t have any idea what’s coming, but he’s grinning anyway. Maybe he can sense your instant discomfort.

“Nothing,” you bark. “Maybe you want to go outside for a smoke or something?”

He looms in a little closer, with a shit-eating grin. “My dear Y/N, are you trying to take me someplace more private right now?”

“What? No. I’ve got to go do this thing over here, now. Bye, Bobo.”

The ambient fairy lights draped around the room glitter off his rings as he wiggles his finger in farewell.

No luck on getting Bobo distracted enough to prowl away while you go line up next to your office friends and wait for the hired DJ to cue up the track. As that distinctive guitar riff signals the start of the song, and all the little colored spotlights point at your group, you see the revenant standing right at the edge of the dancefloor, front and center in the crowd of spectators. He ducks his head and says something to Martha, the adorable old lady who works as your main receptionist, something that makes her smile and nod and pat his arm.

Creepy.

And then the beat kicks in and there’s nothing to do but step and wiggle and wave your arms in the choreographed little movements that had seemed so cute in after-hours rehearsal, now turned completely mortifying under the gaze of the enemy.

Your stubborn streak flares up, though, and you resolve to dance the hell out of the whole number. The only thing more embarrassing than doing a cheesy dance in front of everyone is doing that cheesy dance half-heartedly in front of everyone. So you skip and you swivel and give it the best jazz hands of your life.

You can’t help the grin that stretches across your face by the finale. Everyone in the office cheers and applauds at the end of it, so you all must have done alright with it. You high five a few of your fellow dancers before heading toward the edge of the dancefloor as a swing rendition of “Santa Claus is Coming To Town” begins. It’s got a pretty great retro vibe, and you find your limbs loosening a little to the beat.

“We have to start planning for next year!” your friend calls behind you, and you turn back to nod at her with an enthusiastic smile.

When you look back in the direction you’re walking, you just about crash into Bobo.

Although, “crash” isn’t really the right word. He’s timed it just right, scooping you up with one hand catching yours while the other snakes around your back and turns your momentum into a little spin.

Is Bobo…dancing with you right now? Your feet follow along before your mind can quite catch up. One hand at the small of your back, holding you in close, but not too close to interrupt the footwork, the other holding your arm up and out, Bobo is definitely pulling you along in the classic steps of a swing dance.

Maybe you’re crazy, but you don’t pull away. It’s probably just because of the rush of that little performance, or maybe because your stubbornness has yet to fade away. Your feet find the steps and you realize, maybe, just maybe, it’s because Bobo Del Rey is actually a really good dancer.

He leads effortlessly, precisely on the quick beat, guiding you into turns and twirls almost before you realize you’re starting them. And if every time his hand returns to your waist, he might be tucking you in a little closer, what of it? Guys that know how to do any of the ballroom dances are so few and far between. Might as well forget who he really is and just enjoy yourself for a while.

All you have to do is look anywhere but his face. Because if you look at his face, this will get too weird, too real, and so you focus on his shoulder and pretend you’re being swept around the dancefloor by some other tall man with a penchant for furs.

“You’re really quite good,” he murmurs, at the step that brings his mouth closest to your ear.

He spins you away, and you tell yourself that’s the only reason your heart starts to race. “So are you,” you say politely when he catches you back up.

“I think we work well together.”

You shake your head at the very idea.

Bobo laughs under his breath. “Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about it.”

You set your teeth and fix him with a frown. “I know what kind of creature you really are. I’d never do anything on your side of the line.”

Bobo just clucks his tongue. “Don’t sell yourself short. Life has a way of…complicating things.”

He spins you out, fast and aggressive, so there’s not chance to give him another icy retort. When he pulls you back in, you’re up against his chest and you’re both breathing heavy.

Your eyes lock. You hope the look you’re giving him is a glare, and not anything that betrays the way his command of your body in this dance is…affecting you. Because, it kind of really is.

Thankfully, the song is almost over. Bobo breaks your staring contest first, eyes flitting around the dance floor. He starts guiding you backwards; maybe he’s found the right hole in the crowd for some final, flashy move. Your feet fly in front of him, and you realize you’re looking forward to it.

He doesn’t spin you, doesn’t attempt any kind of lift or twist. Instead, the two of you twirl toward the corner. And in the final trumpeting flourish of the track, your bodies rotate and he dips you. Deeply. His strong arm supports your back until you’re almost horizontal.

And he keeps you there, his wicked face looming over your own as the track shifts into the next song. He almost looks like he’s waiting for something. “What?” You try to make it sound like an aggravated snarl.

Bobo’s eyebrows jump, and he nods his head toward the ceiling.

You let your eyes focus past his face.

Fucking. Mistletoe.

You’re going to have to tell H.R. about this in the morning.

Link to my other Bobo works

Taglist:  @allsharingonebreath, @demoncrypt1066​, @writingfromasgard​, @that-was-not-supposed-to-happen​, @peachieowl @savismith​ @ceridwenofwales @equalstrashflavoredtrash​ @ivarinleatherpants​ @localfloorgoblin​

[enkisstories]

The CyberLife app - Install today

One dark and dreary night during the android revolution of 2038, an RK800 android infiltrated the headquarter of the deviant androids. It delivered the unconscious deviant leader and his followers to the FBI, represented by one Richard Perkins.

“You knocked it out?” Perkins prodded. “Strange… our profile says you’re more agile than actually strong.“

“No, North knocked him out”, RK800 corrected the assumption.

“Wow. Their infighting must be worse than we anticipated. Neat!”

“Actually, no”, the RK800 said. “This isn’t quite how it happened.”

And the android remembered…

 Earlier the same day, at the Detroit Central Police station:

“I could swear it’s a deviant!” Gavin Reed repeated for the perhaps tenth time today. “That’s not normal, it going…”

“Looooook”, Tina Chen interrupted her friend, “if you are worried THAT much, just ask Hank to check Connor’s status in the CyberLife app.”

“That’s bulls… no, actually it’s not a bad idea”, Gavin conceded.

The “wanted for [insert crime]” and “missing our android, the kids are devasted, large finder’s fee!” notices were piling up at the DPD, something that shouldn’t have been possible, because every android came with an app that among other things tracked the damn things 24/7. But for some obscure reasons the tracking function failed when the android in question had went deviant. So if Connor was still showing up in the app… admittedly it could also mean that he had hacked the phone the little program was running on. But even so checking the app was a good start.

However, Hank only gave the two younger officers a blank stare when they inquired about the app.

“I haven’t got the fuggiest idea what you are talking about.”

“The CyberLife app! Come on, now! Everyone has it installed – Chris, Tina, me… it’s essential for managing your android, whether you bought it or got saddled with it as a product sample.”

“Uh-uh. That shit isn’t going anywhere near my phone”, Hank noped out.

But at least, the other two realized, he had confirmed to own a smartphone. Even Chris Miller, who was holding Hank Anderson in great regard, bordering on hero-worship, had come to doubt whether his idol bothered with owning such a devilish piece of modern technology.

“You want to tell me we have no means of controlling the new android?!” Gavin exploded. “Even if it’s a temporary loan only, we should have it registered in our equipment database!”

“Ah, should we? That’s nice…” Hank replied non-committally.

“You… you…” Gavin sputtered.

“The word you’re looking for is “You useless sack o’shit that will polish my snout if I do not go pester someone else RIGHT NOW””, Hank said, going from cheerfully-helpful to a low, threatening growl.

A minute later Gavin stormed Captain Fowler’s office, demanding the control codes for the RK800 android.

“I’ve mailed those to Hank”, the Captain started, before understanding dawned. “I’ve… mailed… them to… Hank. Oh, right. I see.” The sentence included to words that were utterly incompatible: Lieutenant Anderson and reading his own e-mails. With a nod and a few clicks Fowler forwarded the e-mail to Gavin’s work account. “There you go! Anything else?”

“Nah, nothing. Thanks.”

The Captain shook his head. Hank and Gavin! Android haters both of them, only Hank wanted the machines gone, poof into nothingness as if they’d never existed, while Gavin was mainly feeling threatened in his job-security and perceived awesomeness.

Much to Gavin’s dismay entering Connor into the database didn’t produce irregularities of any kind. That annoying, ugly thing was stable as fuck. But if there were no grounds for returning it to Cyberlife, maybe the situation could still work in Gavin’s favor…?

“This, Tina”, the man said with a grin while loading the CyberLife app on his own phone, “is where the fun begins! First we call over our new device…”

One push of a button and thirty seconds later Connor reported for service.

“Cute”, Tina said, then leaned over to get a good look at Gavin’s phone screen. “Can you make it follow wherever you point the phone? That would be kinda cool.”

“No”, Gavin answered, the same split-second Connor protested with a louder “No!”.

“But even so… let’s put it into customization mode!”

This time Connor only came to utter the “N” of “No” before he stiffened, awaiting the changes the program would force onto him by the will of his (temporary) legitimate owners.

“What the fuck, I cannot change that visage? On a detective android that might need to infiltrate locations?” Gavin wondered. “Stupid prototype! Okay, next is… ah, right. The damn voice.”

“RK800’s voice has been carefully selected to generate positive feelings and a warm welcome into any workplace situation”, the CyberLife app chattered away. “It is considered ideal. Are you sure you want to change the voice now? Y/N”

“Yes!” Tina called, grabbing the phone from Gavin’s hands. She circled through several voices before she selected one. “Perfect! And now the name… Connor is the default, time to change that!”

Gavin watched with interested what would happen next.

With a subtle “whirr” the RK800 android returned from maintenance mode.

“I am Ferdinand von Aegir!“ he proclaimed, a phrase that made Tina explode with laughter. “The android sent by Cyberlife. And you are silly.”

“Yes, yes! Do it again!”

When Connor von Aegir wasn’t inclined to do Tina’s bidding, the officer pushed the “test” button in the app. Promptly Connor went “I am Ferdinand von Aegir” again.

“That’s a meme?” Gavin asked.

“Haha, yes! Or it used to be one when we were teens. But you never were much of a gamer, huh?”

Tina handed the phone back. “You next!” she prompted her friend.

Predictably Gavin changed “Ferdinand”’s name to “Dipshit” and also made ample use of the test-button. Only when Hank came ‘round the corner, shouting for the “stupid, useless sardine tin”, did the duo revert the voice change. Gavin also typed something new into the name box that Tina could not see.

The android no longer going by “Connor” didn’t come to light anytime soon, because Hank had a rich pool of casual insults for it that could be used instead of an individual name.

Until RK800 found itself on the lower deck of the freighter “Jericho”, facing the deviant leader…

 Markus slowly turned around when he heard footsteps approach. He beheld the RK800 in its disguise and heard it say in its upbeat voice: “I am Your Daddy. Submit and follow me!”

“Is that a joke?!” Markus sputtered.

“No, this is very serious. I am Your Daddy, the android sent by Cyberlife…”

“That’s, uh, nice of Cyberlife. Yes, I really appreciate the gesture…”

This is probably meant as a distraction technique to throw me off? the deviant leader wondered. Out loud he said: “I’m an off-brand imitator product though. Not from Cyberlife.”

“I was instructed to bring you alive!” Connor chirped.

Markus hesitated. “By the person who named you?” he asked very carefully.

“No.”

“Ah, good!” Markus said with visible relief. “Well, maybe you and me can come to an understanding of a less… sensual nature?”

 Ten minutes later Markus introduced the RK800 to his friends:

“Hey, guys, this here is a new recruit. New one – meet North! North – meet Your Daddy!”

And that was the last thing Markus said for quite some time, because North punched him so hard that he temporarily shut down.

 Back in the present the captured deviants were still squabbling amongst each other, despite standing  with their hands behind their heads and lined up for transport to the recycling yards.

“That’s not fair!” an android wearing the old Cyberlife standard face protested, at which Perkins snapped “Shut up, tin can!“, but the blonde android retorted that he hadn’t been talking to the human, but to North.

“It really wasn’t fair of you”, the android addressed North. “Yes, you and Markus have been drifting apart and I admit in part this happened because of me, but even though your couple thing wouldn’t work out, he always had you in his mind. It was so kind of Markus to find you a new boyfriend, but what did you do? Punch him!”

This one, Perkins concluded, must be a BL100, a “perfect partner”. Even after deviating and  in the face of getting scrapped it was still obsessing about relationships. Oh, well, that would be Cyberlife’s problem in a few minutes, no longer his.

“Okay, that should wrap tonight’s operation up”, Perkins nodded. “Connor, was it?”

“Ah, no, actually I am Your Worst Nightmare Motherfucker… what the hell? Oh, no, they must be playing with the app again! I’m sorry, I…”

“You aren’t my worst nightmare, then?” Perkins sneered.

Already the man’s fingers were twitching, ready to draw his service pistol at this unpredictable prototype. It had served its purpose, after all.

“Then enlighten me, who or what are you?”

RK800 opened its mouth the exact same moment Gavin and Tina at the DPD were cracking up over another idea for a cool name that had just occurred to them. “I am A Deviant”, he said. “What? No I’m not! I am C… R… A Deviant! A Deviant! Oh, shit…”

There was no time to explain, because Perkins had already hissed “Should have known!” and opened fire. Simon, Josh, North and A Deviant dived for cover, dragging the unconscious Markus with them.

And the rest is history.

[cartoonfangirl1218]

Motorcycle Race

Has a bit of Mick and Lisa friendship. Takes place between Rogue Air and Family of Rogues.  "Okay peoples let's get this party started!!!!!" Shawna shouted in the middle of the crowd in Saints & Sinners. 

Mark Axel, and Hartley burst in quickly behind her. Mark's small hurricanes blew the door hinges off and people ran screaming out. Mick, Leonard and Lisa dragged behind. 

"I can't believe we're robbing this place." Leonard muttered disgustedly as the crowds pushed and ran past them. 

"Aww c'mon on Lenny. It's Shawna's birthday let her rob S&S if she wants to. Besides look at all the wallets people are leaving around." Lisa grinned as another patron ran away screaming, not noticing Lisa's hand dipping into her pocket as she ran past her. "I already got 7!" 

Leonard shook his head with his usual "Why-in-hell-am-I-related-to-you-and-why-did-I-agree-to-this-stupidity" sigh.

Lisa rolled her eyes, he was the one who created the group who wanted to do said stupidity. He was the one that had wanted to get more villains to go against the Scarlet Speedster, and now they were stuck with them. 

It all had started when Shawna came to the warehouse with a bunch of shopping bags, announcing that no one should go to her room tonight because it was her birthday. Then Axel came up with the idea that they should celebrate. And with Rogues, what better way to celebrate than by filling their pockets with cash, jewelry and other stuff they got for free. Shawna insisted on Saints & Sinners because she wanted to crash at the bar so off they went. 

Lenny hadn't wanted to go, but Lisa had goaded him to it because what would it look like if the leader of the Rogues was so noticeably absent from a theft. 

"Like he is the only sane one, so that's why he's the leader" He drawled. He ended up going anyway because he didn't want anyone to end up in jail before going on their next heist. 

Lisa had to admit, she had been against the idea of having more in the Rogues besides the three of them. Sort of an exclusivity. But it had been generally okay. Mark and Axel were all over her when Lenny wasn't around and it was nice to be so pampered and admired. 

Despite his lovesick gazes, Axel was the jokester and she thought he was the best one to hang out with. who wouldn't love a buy who stole the cold gun, freezed the hallway and started sledding races. She didn't know quite what to think of Mark and Hartley they mostly stood to each other or by themselves. But as long as they didn't mess up her life with whatever inner angst they were holding up she didn't care. 

Shawna was fun to be around, it was nice to have another girl in villainy and they sometimes compared notes on Cisco and made fun of him and the other Rogues when they went clubbing. But she also had a sneaking suspicion that she had been using her powers to get into her room, and steal her make up which was not cool at all. She had stolen those Clinique bottles through her own hard work and she wasn't going to share. The place was finally clear, the owner of the bar stared at them through widened eyes. He looked like he was going to stand his ground but one glare from Mick sent him scurrying off. 

“Best day ever" Shawna sighed satisfied sipping her bottle of vodka she took from the bar. Axel and Hartley were jamming up the cash register and Mark seemed to be trying to take off the disco ball with his mind. 

"So how long do we get to crash before the police arrive?" Mick asked absent-mindedl, lighting a cigarette. 

"10, 8 minutes or so" Leonard said checking his watch.

"Cool we stay here until last second and then off out" Shawna grinned, as she spotted a sequined purse lying under one of the tables.

"Maybe you can but we can't." Mark said, looking at the locked front door.

“Oh yeah, it must suck that you have to leave early because you're not fast enough to outrun the cops" Shawna mock-pouted "Poor baby.”

"I can out-run the cops anytime I want.”Hartley shot back.

“No way, your stick legs can't outrun a snail" Axel jeered.

“Yes I can" Hartley shoved him. "No way" Shawna called out.

"Forget running, best way to go is by motorcycle" Mick said.

"And that title is held by me" Lisa added.

“Please" Mick snorted.

"Please what?" Lisa scowled.

"I'm the one that actually taught you how to drive fast. No way you can beat the master." Mick smirked. It was true. Len had been the one that taught her to drive car, how to drive a motorcycle, how to repair the, but Mick was the one that taught her how to drive fast ad dangerously. They used to drive around Central, breaking all kinds of speed limits. 

"Mick, stop talking drunk and be serious.” Lisa snorted.

“Guys, I have the perfect way to solve this" Shawna grinned.

"Beer" Mark said helpfully.” 

“Yes, that and we race on it." Shawna suggested. The Rogues stared at each other and ran out of S&S. They headed to the old dump yard at the edge of the skate park, and took some bicycles lying around while Leonard, Mick, and Lisa took their own motorcycles. "Okay first up,” Lisa announced "You four go race starting at the half pipe, to S&S and back again. Then Mick and I will go, winner race winners." Leonard just settled down at the park bench watching them intently.

“Do we get to use our powers?" Hartley asked eagerly.

"Of course" Lisa purred "What fun would it be if we didn't?"

The four got on their bikes, and glared at the lights of S&S and the police cars in the distance.

"Ready, set go!" Lisa called Axel started up the fight by setting off parachute bombs at Shawna who was up front, she disappeared just as the bombs hit the ground. 

Which made Mark and Hartley scramble off balance into some trees. Mark fought back as lightning blast out of the sky, making Axel zig-zag into the street.

 "SHIT!! Biker coming through" he yelled as car honked and barreled toward him. Shawna reappeared once more in front but was soon overpowered by Hartley when he aimed his sonic gloves at the ground. The whole race sorta crumbled after that. 

They got so distracted with fighting each other that jumped off their motorcycle and use their powers and combat skills in a four way fight. 

"Guess we can get started then," Mick commented. “Done" Lisa pulled on her helmet, and crouched on her golden motorcycle "See you at the finish line old man" Lisa crowed.

Mick grunted. Leonard placed their guns next to him and called out "Start!”

It had been fast and furious, without the added distraction of firing fireballs me gold at each other they swerved precisely and smoothly across the streets. Lisa sorely tempted to drive over by him and hit him against the curb, but one thing she re breed from racing him years ago that knocking out you're opponent also made sure you slowed down too. 

They made it to S&S and we're greeted by the police, and the owner. "Yes, they helped rob the place!" 

"Drive back, drive back, tactical retreat" Mick shouted at her, she didn't need to be told twice. 

She zig zagged as people always said to do if you don't want to get shot by the police. She certainly didn't want to today and in this outfit. The blood would stain the chiffon for sure. She heard the squeal of tires blowing out, and cursed to see her motorcycle tire with a bullet in it. Mick was a little ways ahead of her, already getting dragged off by the police officers. 

She shook her head, dejectedly and let them cuff her without a fight. Without a gun, against their many many holsters, it didn't seem worth it. 

As she got shoved in with Mick, he huffed on yet another cigarette dangling from his mouth. "Ya know your brother is gonna killed us." 

“He could kill Shawna... She was the one with the whole birthday robbery idea and then the motorcycle race." Lisa said, "This is not worth getting killed over. If anything he would kill you for screwing me.” 

She was thinking of Leonard's ever present threat, to murder anyone, especially partners having sexual relations with her. 

"He wouldn't kill me" Mick said, carelessly.

"Really?" Lisa added doubtfully, she knew Mick was like Leonard's closest and only friend but she didn't think their friendship extended that far. Hell, he said that Mick was the last person he wanted her having sex with. “I believe his exact words were, If you think one impure thought about her I will catastrate you, boil your nuts and burn you alive." Mick said thoughtfully as Lisa stared at him in horror, with more than just the threat in mind 

“Did you like me?" She would never admit but she had a crush on Mick for a few months when she was 14. Nothing big, and it was before she knew the extent of his craziness. All she knew was that he had a car with license, had wicked prison tattoos, and an intriguing deep guttural voice. It went away after awhile but never once did she think Mick would have looked at her the same way. 

"I just saw you in a one of your evening dresses, and happened to compliment your rack out loud. That was it." Mick said. “That explains it" Lisa smiled, "And you and I dating. Never. I don't go for balding, old men."

"I don't go for idiotic train wrecks" Mick retorted.

They settled to an easy silence before she broke it again, “So what do you think of the whole Rogues thing?" 

“Worst plan ever. A guy who can make thunderstorms whenever he cries, a disappearing act that thinks robbing S&S is big game, a dumbass engineer with parental issues, and a daddy's boy with bombs. Len couldn't pick up someone cool and useful like someone who could control minds, or an assassin." Mick snorted. 

“Let’s face it. The original three of us pulled off more cons than we did with the rest." Lisa agreed. 

"Well we're stuck with them for now. It'll be like our own reality TV mess." Mick snorted. 

"I bet I could get Shawna in a fight with Mark over the bathroom and then have Axel and Hartley making out in the closet in no time." Lisa smiled, mischevious thoughts running through her mind.

"Mark and Hartley in the closet? I bet Mark and Hartley. In Leonard's office" Mick corrected.

“You're on. I can't wait to see Lenny's face when that happens" Lisa grinned.

 "After we get out of this, we're going for another round though" Mick added.

 "You want to get beaten by me twice?" “I was way ahead of you before the cops came." Mick sneered.

"You have proof?" "I don't need proof, I'm better motorcyclist than you'll ever be. I was back then and I am now.” Mick snarled. "Things changed, Rory. I'm number one now." Lisa glared back at him. 

“Things haven't changed that much, Glider. You still need to learn how to zig zag without getting shot, don't you think for a second you're not the same kid that I had to drive to school and help with...with Brazilian waxing" Mick said, with a rare smile at the memory. 

Leonard had forced Mick to go to her wax appointment with her when he got stuck at a job with Lewis. It had been a hard ordeal for both of them, and Mick ended up with a broken wrist. "It was my first time, and you wouldn't let me hold your.." 

The truck stopped with a halt, and Shawna appeared in front of them. "You're anti-heroes of the day have arrived" she cheered, opening the door and pushing them out. They fell to the ground, "Would you mind, uncuffing us first" Lisa spit dirt out of her mouth.

“Oh of course!" "Here let me help!" Mark and Axel scrambled to uncuff her.

“A little help here" Mick hissed, jingling his cuffs, as Leonard rolled his eyes to help. “That's enough for tonight" Leonard used his stern, leader tone and gestured to the motorcycles waiting at the bench.  

"You head out, we have a score to settle" Lisa said, and winked at Mick. “Yeah Goldie wants to get her ass kicked.

"Don't get so cocky, Rory" Lisa smiled, revved her engine and the two roared off to the pipeline. 

[prettyyoungtragedy]

Written in the Stars (2)

Characters: Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: You’re the type of woman who is headstrong and fiercely independent. Heiress to a fortune and one of the most brilliant minds of the 21st century. Until you’re forced into witness protection. Your “Protection” turns out to be 220 pounds of dreamy, sassy, delightful Bucky Barnes. Whatever could go wrong?

Warnings: Swearing, if that's a warning these days. 

A/N: Oh man, all the love for chapter one made me scream! I hope you like part 2, here’s Bucky being bossy, an annoyed reader and a little sassy humor for everyone! if ya wanna be kind and throw me a pretty comment and a reblog? I’ll love you forever.

This was generously Beta’d by my beta @suz-123 without whom I will never have any good ideas! thank you buddy!

Tags: Hit me up in my ASK box!

Links are being an asshole so you can find other chapters of this fic in my WIP masterlist in my bio!

“Think you can handle this?” Sam asked as he handed Bucky one of his handguns, watching his friend strap on his bulletproof vest. Bucky didn’t need it but it was better to be safe than sorry in this case, especially when Hydra was involved they probably had ways of bringing the Winter Soldier down.

“Yes, what do I look like? An amateur?” Bucky responded rolling his eyes at Sam’s incredulous question, taking the gun from his hand and holstering it to his hip.

“You know that’s not what I mean.” Sam shoved Bucky’s shoulder slightly.

“I know, I’ll fine. It’ll be fine,” He gives Sam a reassuring smile. The pair were an odd couple but had become the support the other needed in hard times. It was weird sharing this unbreakable bond of friendship because of Steve, but it was a comfort to both of them knowing each had the others back. When they weren’t bickering incessantly with each other Sam and Bucky were a formidable force.

“What time is the meeting set for?” Sam gives Bucky the black box with the comms in them and waited as he placed it in his ear.

“Steve and I are meeting at the new apartment in an hour, I have to escort her there.”

“And she’s fine with moving apartments?”

“What do you think?” Bucky’s tone dripping with sarcasm,

Sam laughed and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, gripping it lightly. “That woman is going to eat you alive buddy,”

“Nah, women love me, it’ll be a walk in the park.”

Sam nods, “Well, good luck out there, man. This might not be President Ellis but she sure as shit is more important to us, right now.”

“Don’t need luck,” Bucky grinned at him as the two of them walked out of the weapons vault, he strutted a few feet in front of Sam before turning around to face him, “I am the fucking Winter Soldier.” He spreads his arms cockily as if he were showing off his grandeur.

This response makes Sam chortle with laughter, and shake his head at Bucky’s arrogance. He wasn’t wrong though, Bucky Barnes was part The Winter Soldier and part Avenger, he was a fucking machine.

~~~

It was barely seven in the morning when you hear the door to the safe house open, the rather shitty safe house that Nick Fury and his squad of morons had forced you to live in the past four days.

The soft creak of the wooden floors as their footfalls hit the hardwood. The alarm bells in your head going off and, immediately, you shot up out of the double bed and to your feet, ready to fight whoever was walking towards the bedroom door, not that you were any kind of fighter but if worst comes to worst, you’d be ready to get scrappy about it.

To say you were a little on edge because of the briefing yesterday wouldn’t be a lie. You were putting on this sarcastic brave face, but in fact, you had spent the entire night tossing and turning too afraid that if you close your eyes you wouldn't wake up the next morning.

So, when the bedroom door was flung open, it was only natural in your tired, sleep deprived state that you let out a scream of terror, only to come face to face with James Buchanan Barnes.

“Well good morning to you, too.” He said amusement in his eyes as he took in your cowering figure which was now in a pathetic defensive stance.

“What the fucking fuck?!” You exclaimed at him, straightening up, trying to pick up the modicum of dignity you had left after that scream.

“I was testing you.” He shrugged.

“What the fuck kind of test was that?!”

“To see how quick your reflexes are in a panicked situation.”

You stared open mouthed at him for a moment, a million insults hurling through your mind which you wanted to shout at him, but, instead, you snap your mouth shut and glower at him. Folding your arms over your chest, you realized you were barely clad in a t-shirt and scanty shorts that had been given to you by some shield task force member, as you hadn’t been allowed to your apartment yet to get any of your clothes.

“Get dressed, we’re moving you to a secure location today.” He ordered completely ignoring the fact that you were giving him a death stare.

“Wait, what, when do I get to go home?” You rebutted, but Bucky doesn’t listen to you. He whirled around and marched out the bedroom shutting the door in your face. Once again, you are left stunned at just how rude this asshole was, you stared at the door open-mouthed and blinked rapidly, never in your life had you ever been ordered around and it was infuriating you.

You took a slow deep breath and clenched your fists at your side,

“Deep breaths,” You muttered to yourself, “You can’t kill him, he’s the reason you’re going to live through this shit show.”

One. Two. Three.

You exhaled deeply and opened your eyes, “You can kill him after.”

This thought seemed to make you gleeful, and suddenly you had an idea. If the Winter Soldier was going to be your bodyguard and make your life hard, you were going pull the exact same shit with him. Then and there you decided to be the most painful version of yourself just to see how far you could push your limits with him before he quit.

Grinning to yourself at your plan you made your way to the bathroom to get dressed.

~~~

Twenty minutes later, you stood in front of your protection detail. The Winter Soldier stands a few feet closer to you than the rest of them, he hands you a little ID with your picture printed on it, a watch that has a small sleek black screen on it and what looked like a phone.

“ID to get you in and out of the tower without hassle,” He pointed to it, “The watch is programmed with a tracking device and is connected to Stark servers as well as FRIDAY the Avengers personal AI, there’s a heart monitor, for proof of life and should your heartbeat drop or become erratic in any way it will alert your protection detail. Anything you need, touch your finger to the screen and it will assist you, like a personal assistant. Should I not be with you, there is a panic button and it will alert us of your danger.”

“Proof of life, like I’m a hostage. How fun.” You retorted. You waited as he slid the watch onto your wrist, and the screen flashed to life.

“Good morning, Sergeant Barnes.” A female voice with an Irish lilt rang through the receiver of the watch startling you, slightly.

“Hi FRIDAY, configure the watch. It is on the subject, lock in the location and secure Astro mode.”

“Astro mode?” You piped up looking at Bucky.

“Highest security level.” He responded not looking at you, his gaze is fixed on the watch as he waited for it to configure.

“Configuration complete.” FRIDAY states and Bucky nodded.

Then he pointed to the sleek black phone like object in your hand, “Stark tech, no incoming call or text can get through without going through the security checks at the Avengers tower. All your contacts have been programmed in there and no one can trace the IP or caller ID on your phone. The only people with this number is myself, Steve Rogers and Director Fury, for safety reasons, of course, no one but me will call you.”

“Wait, why do I have to give up my phone? That is stupid.” You began to protest but the look Bucky gives you shuts you up instantly. Clearly, he isn’t in the mood for your shit, well, at least not yet.

He ignores your little outburst and then almost robotically turned away from you towards the three men that stood behind him, patiently waiting for him to finish giving you instructions.

“These three are handpicked by me for this assignment, each one of them has gone through stringent tests and background searches before being assigned to protect you. Should I not be around, the highest ranking officer will step in and take over protection detail.”

“Why wouldn’t you be around, I thought you were supposed to hover like an annoying shadow?” You interjected, sarcastically.

Bucky gives you a deadpan look and ignores your comment again, “For safety reasons, they will only be known to you by their code names.” He pointed to the blonde on the far right, he looked like he deadlifted buildings, “Agent 27; codename Achilles,”

Then pointed to the brunette with blue eyes and a grim face, “Agent 12; code name Arcas,”

Lastly, he pointed to the tallest of them all, broad-shouldered with a hard face, he looked like he never smiled. “Agent 8; codename Dionysus.”

“What’s with the Greek codenames?” You asked, genuinely curious why all their codenames were that of Greek mythology.

Before Bucky could answer you, however, his phone rang and he quickly answered it. A curt conversation over the line indicated to you that whoever was on the other end was telling him to hurry up because he muttered something along the lines of ‘Have some fucking patience’, before cutting the call.

“Let’s move.” He nodded curtly to the rest of the agents, they immediately dispersed and headed for the exit. You waited a moment before Bucky turned towards you, his expression is stoic and hard, and you sense an immediate shift in his attitude.

It was time to get to work.

“I have three golden rules, three rules for you to follow and we will be fine in every situation.” Bucky’s voice almost steely and robotic as he spoke, “Number one, I move, you move, doesn’t matter when or where, you listen to every instruction I give you, no arguments. You stay behind me at all times, there isn’t a moment when you’re ahead of me, unless, I specifically instruct you to be so. I am your human shield, you got it?”

“Oh good, a human shield. This should be fun.” Your snide answer goes unanswered by him as he continued.

“Number two, I am not here to fuck around, I’m not a pretty boy for you to show off to your high society friends, I am not in the field of playing games and entertaining your bullshit. My number one priority is keeping you alive, and if you act like an idiot, you die and I don’t need that on  my resume.”

“You think you’re a pretty boy?” You barked out a laugh

“The prettiest,” He bit back before continuing, again, “Number three. Wherever you are, I am. You do not go anywhere without me. You have to piss? I am standing at the door. You have a check-up at the doctor? I am there. You need to blow your nose? I give you the tissue. Do you understand?”

“I mean this is a little excessive don’t you thi-”

“Do you understand.” He cuts you off in a demanding voice, your defiant eyes meet his and you glared at him.

The instructions seemed simple enough but the fact that he was going to control every aspect of your life was suddenly annoying you. He was right, everything you did he was going to have to be there for it and that didn’t sit well with you.

“I have a life you know, I can’t have you hovering around me when I go on dates and out with friends.”

“Well, in the interest of keeping you alive, you’re going to have to suck it up and deal with me hovering, sweetheart.” Bucky moved closer towards you, his steely eyes piercing into yours and as much as you want to fight his every command at that moment, the sensible side of your brain is telling you to shut up and listen to him, “Besides, you won’t be going on many dates in the coming months, believe me.”

“I mean you can try and stop me from living my life, but good luck with that,” You jeered back at him, folding your arms over your chest in defiance.

A look of shock skittered across his face for a moment before he reigns his emotions in, and that stoic expression settled over his face again. Bucky is about to say something to you but changes his mind and just shakes his head.

“Follow my every instruction when we leave,” He ordered you and you felt your nerves prickle at the demanding tone he used with you, but you remained silent, “I move, you move? Got it.”

“Yes Soldier, I got it. Relax.”

Bucky clenched his jaw at your response but chooses to ignore your sarcasm again, clearly, his resolve was resolute because you would have at least expected some kind of chirp back with all the sass you were giving him.

He turned away from you and began to make his way out of the safehouse with you following closely behind him. It’s a quick trip down the elevator and into the lobby of the building where your usual car was waiting for you. You were a little relieved that not everything had changed, you still had the same driver and the same car.

Small victories. You thought.

For a moment you forgot that you were under supervision and walked a little faster, cutting in front of Bucky in an attempt to get to the car before him. It’s an innocent mistake on your part as you neared the freedom of being in a car and not cooped up in that safe house, but that moment of freedom is suddenly wrenched away as quickly as it arrived.

Bucky hand closes around your arm halting you just seconds before your hand touches the door to the lobby entrance. Whether he intended to or not, the force with which he stopped you from exiting startled you and you gasped in shock.

“What the-” You began to say but he cuts you off.

“Stay behind me, I said I move, you move. How am I supposed to protect you if you’re in front of me?” He snapped at you letting go of your arm.

“God fucking damn it, it’s like two meters to the car!” You exclaimed.

Bucky took a deep breath and steadied his temper. He was about two seconds away from yelling at you in the middle of the lobby, but he knew he couldn't, or Steve would punch the lights out of him for embarrassing the team and being unprofessional, also not with these many witnesses around. He stepped around you and pushed open the door, the cool morning air hitting his skin as it gusted into the lobby.

His eyes scanned the area from the entrance to the car, he takes in every detail he can, the pedestrians walking past, the other guests at the hotel moving around, talking to each other walking in and out, his eyes move like a hawk across the rooftops of the building for any signs of danger then when he was satisfied he stepped aside and gestured for you to start walking again.

You rolled your eyes at him and rather caustically walked out the lobby raising your hands in surrender as you approached the car. A hint of amusement hits him as he watched you walk over to the car and throw him a belligerent look before getting in loudly calling out to him,

“Oh, look, whatever shall I do, I made it to the car by myself.” You rolled your eyes at him so hard, Bucky could have sworn he heard them roll.

He shook his head and followed you, biting back the sudden smile that wanted to appear on his face from that display you had just put on.

Man, you weren’t going to make this easy for him.

~~~

Bucky stood in the massive living room of your penthouse apartment in Manhattan, his eyes moving across the living space with quiet amazement. He had been around technological advances and Stark’s fancy lifestyle long enough to know luxury but this, this place was phenomenal.

The entire space looked like it belongs in a magazine, from the beige tones throughout the room, accented by creams and golds to the marble flooring and pillars that stood at the entrances to it.

There wasn’t a thing out of place, not a speck of dust anywhere. For a home, Bucky found it surprisingly cold, but the problem with it was there was too much open space which was like an invitation for anyone trying to get to you.

There were staff that worked for you, chefs, cleaning staff, a driver, people who picked up your clothes, bought them for you, your personal assistant, too many people and too many eyes for his liking.

He didn’t have time to screen every single person in your life, so he made an executive decision right then. The team would have to move you to a different safe house or keep you at the one you were at. It was just safer that way, and if push came to shove he would have Steve run background on everyone in your life before bringing you back here.

Of course, he knew this wasn’t going to sit well with you and a small part of him felt amused by the fact that you were probably going to throw a shitfit about it.

“Sergeant Barnes?” A voice brings his attention back to the people in front of him and he looked up at the person, it was one of the STRIKE members they’d brought here to fit in a new security system.

“What is it?” He replied,

“We are done setting up the system, would you like us to show her how it works?” The agent asked,

Bucky shook his head and took the tablet from his outstretched hand, “No, I’ll run through that with my team. Thanks.”

The agent gave him a polite nod before he walked away once more. Bucky scrolled through the system they’d installed throughout your apartment, it was one of Stark’s best security systems linked directly to FRIDAY. It was biometric so only the pre-approved list of persons could come and go without him knowing about it, but he still didn’t like this place.

Just then you walked into the living room and looked around for a moment before your eyes met his and you crossed your arms at the sight of him. Bucky smirked,

He annoyed you, good.

“So are they done wreaking havoc around my home?” You asked annoyance thick in your tone,

“Yes they are but don’t get comfortable yet, we’re going back to the safe house.”

“Wait what, why?”

“Because I have decided you won’t be staying here,”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re excused, go pack your shit up.”

Bucky watched as your face turned from shocked to completely enraged, he was full well expecting a tantrum from you and that is exactly what he received. Amusement rippled through him as he watched you defiantly fold your arms over your chest and start yelling obscenities at him.

“Absofuckinglutely not! I refused to stay one more night in that crappy apartment in Brooklyn, I would much rather Hydra kill me then stay one more night in that hell hole.” You exclaimed dramatically, “I was promised protection not uprooting my entire fucking life to go live in Brooklyn for this trial, I will not leave, I refuse. You can go to hell,”

You were breathing heavily from anger when you were finally done yelling at him, all while Bucky just looked at you with a bored expression on his face.

“Are you done?” He asked,

“Not even close,”

“Okay well, then you can continue to yell at me once we’re in the car, let’s go.”

And before you could even say anything further, Bucky gripped your arm firmly but gently and began to haul you towards your bedroom to collect your things.

~~~

It was supposed to be business as usual but it felt like the furthest thing from it. You walked into your lab on Friday morning and were met with the sight of Bucky Barnes leaning against the wall, sunglasses on, one hand in the pocket of his black jeans and the other holding his phone in the other. Dark hair falling into his eyes as he frowned down at his phone.

“Why the fuck are you here?” You sighed walking up to him not bothering to say good morning or any other pleasantries for that matter.

Bucky looked up from his phone, an amused smile on his face, he tucked his dark hair behind his ear on one side and shoved his phone into his pocket.

“Why, good morning sunshine.” He replied smoothly, amusement ripe in his voice.

“Again, why are you here?”

“I feel like you seem to be forgetting my instructions.” Bucky said pulling off his sunglasses and revealing those ridiculously blue eyes, “I said, I move, you move, but somehow this morning I show up to move you and, whaddya know? You’ve already left for the day, care to explain?”

There is clear sarcasm in his tone but also a hint of demand. He’s upset with you but isn’t showing it or trying not to at this point. You didn’t want to be escorted to work, not after the shit show last night when you had to run through the entire layout of your penthouse home with them only to have Bucky tell you that you will no longer be allowed to live there because there were too many entrance points.

Needless to say, you threw a shit fit, and stormed off, but, alas, were followed by the Winter Soldier who wordlessly put you in your car and drove you right back to the safehouse, kicking and screaming.

So this morning, you awoke earlier than usual, got dressed and slipped out of the safehouse, without any of the agents noticing. It actually amazed you how easily you got past them, clearly, they weren’t very good at their jobs.

Your whole life you had the freedom to come and go as you pleased and now that you had to hand over the reins of your life to someone else, it was frustrating you. Your every move was going to be monitored and someone beside you at all times, this wasn't the life you were used to.

“Jesus H. Christ, I just needed to feel normal for two seconds, okay. I can get myself to work safely.” You said irritably rubbing your forehead with your hand.

“No, you can’t.”

“Excuse me?”

“You can’t get yourself to work safely because you don’t know what threats there are out there. I, on the other hand, do and seeing as it’s my job to get you places safely, I would appreciate a modicum of agreement here.”

“So would I.” You retorted stubbornly, “You have me cooped up in that shitty safehouse in Brooklyn, when my gorgeous Manhattan apartment is going to waste, deserted and dying without me in it.”

You watched him sigh and clench his jaw again, becoming frustrated with your defiance. Bucky ran his fingers through his hair and looked down at you, a scowl on his handsome face, now.

“I am really trying to be patient here,” He said exasperatedly, “but you’re not making this easy, can you please just follow my instructions?”

“Fucking fuck, fine. But can I at least move out of that shitty apartment and into my home again? I hate that fucking place.”

Bucky lets out an exhale, the exasperation clear all over his face. “Fine, We will move you to a different location not your place but one better than what you’re at, also I take you to work and get you home every day, end of story.”

You rolled your eyes and brushed past him, walking into your lab. Bucky followed you, you watched as his eyes sweep the entirety of it before they settled back on you.

“I really don’t think you need to be here 24/7,” You sighed, “This whole situation is being made such a big deal of, I can take care of myself, you know.”

“This is not a game.” He replied moving to lean against one of the metal lab tables.

“I didn't say it was but I know what I have gotten myself into and I can handle it!”

“No one is saying you can’t, but, you need to take this seriously-”

“I am taking this seriously! You think I don’t know what’s at stake here?!” You were suddenly shouting at him, “I am uprooting my entire life for this god damn cause, I am going against my family for this cause, I know the seriousness of it all!”

“Then stop acting like a child and listen to me!” He shouts back and you fell silent. You weren't expecting him to yell back at you, and it kind of scared you. Bucky suddenly stood taller and his figure seemed to double in size as if he rose to his full height, and it was dominating.

“Get out, I need to work.” You muttered turning away from him so he wouldn’t see the sudden tears in your eyes. It was frustration and fear building up inside you and he wasn’t helping.

Bucky took a deep breath and reigned his anger in, he shouldn’t have yelled at you, but he doesn’t care right now. All he knows is he needs to keep you safe and if you are a belligerent asshole the entire time, it’s going to end up costing someone their life and he’d rather it was not you.  

“I will be outside,” Bucky said in a steely voice before he turned sharply and marched out of your lab once more, leaving you alone with the silence, your thoughts and the panic now rising in your chest.

~~~

The lab felt like a safe little bubble as you lost yourself in your work. Hours ticked by before you noticed the ache in your stomach reminding you it was time to eat something. You glanced up at the clock and realized it was almost one in the afternoon, you also realized that you had left Bucky to wait outside for you not bothering to check up on him.

Why the fuck do you care? You had no idea but you felt a little guilty leaving the giant brick shithouse of a human to wait outside for you.

Grumbling under your breath about how stupid it was that you needed him to hover once again, you pulled off your lab coat and tossed it onto the table before walking out of your lab.

You half expected Bucky to be waiting for you right outside the door but to your surprise, he was not. A small part of you was disappointed that he wasn’t but you shoved that aside and quickly made your way toward the elevator, maybe he was going to let up on this ridiculous notion that he had to accompany you everywhere and you could have a peaceful lunch.

Hitting the elevator button repeatedly, you waited watching the orange light flash from floor to floor as it came up to you.

“Just so you know, repeatedly hitting the button doesn’t make the elevator go any faster.” A voice suddenly said beside you, it was close to your ear.

You whirled around, a strangled scream almost erupting from your throat as you slapped your hand over your mouth to avoid screaming. You were met with Bucky’s amused blue eyes and a smirk on his face.

“Motherfucker!”

“No, that would require me to sleep with someone's mother, of which I have not done so, yet. I think,”

“Don’t fucking sneak up on me!”

“I did not, you don’t have situational awareness.” He shrugged.

“I so do.”

“Oh, really? Tell me one thing you noticed that is out of place on this floor.”

You glared at him for a moment, why was he always challenging you, then your gaze swept across the length of the area. It was the reception area of this floor, bright green plants, glass walls, metal doors and signs leading to every lab. The smell of rubbing alcohol and sterilizing agents mixed in the air, with a hint of cherries from the floor cleaner.

There are a few people about, the security guard, Wallace, who as always there, the receptionist, Jody, who was on the phone, a few people sat in the reception area. Either waiting for someone or something, you notice nothing out of the ordinary.

“There’s nothing out of place…” You say it a little hesitant because you already know he's placed something that sets him on edge.

“Look again,” He orders and you follow his command eyes moving across the room again, “See the security? He’s not wearing his badge, why? That should be a red flag already if you didn’t know him. He could be anyone.”

“I know Wallace, he’s worked here for years.” You retorted.

“Beside the point. Now, look at the receptionist, she's not focused on her surroundings, isn't watching who's coming and going, how will she know who any of her guests are? The guy in the green jacket on the couch,” Bucky gestured towards him and you looked in that direction,”He’s carrying a firearm, but I can see his police badge from here which means he's law enforcement, but why is he here?”

“Cops come here all the time for forensics, when they need help or are short staffed.”

“Right, but have you seen him before?”

You looked at the man and shook your head slowly, “No.”

“And see the lady over by the water cooler, look at her nervousness, she’s not supposed to be here and her body language tells me that, immediately.”

You hadn’t picked up any of the things Bucky had just pointed out to you, and it amazed you just how keen his attention to detail was.

“Last but not least,” Bucky stepped a little closer to you just as the elevator dined on the landing, “You walked out of your lab, looked around the room, and never saw me when I was sitting right here.” He motioned towards one of the chairs near the elevator and you frowned.

How the hell had you not seen him, that was not possible.

“But I-” You began to say and he shakes his head.

“Situational awareness.” Was all he said before he gripped your by the elbow and guided you onto the elevator, “Where to?”

“Lobby, we’re getting lunch.”

A curt nod and he pushed the button, his hand remaining on your arm the entire ride down to the lobby and even as he helped you into the car.

~~~

“There’s a bagel stand right there!” Bucky exclaimed, pushing open the lobby door the two of you walk out onto the steps of the massive office building, the air outside is cool and crisp, a nice change to the spring heat for once.

“Well, I don’t eat cheap bagels from a stand, I eat croissants from Butter.” You snorted shaking your head at him,

“What the fuck is Butter?”

“It’s my lunch restaurant, and you’re taking me there.”

“No, I am not.”

“Yes, you are.”

You crossed your arms defiantly and stood your ground in front of him. He’d already took your home from you and your freedom, he wasn’t going to take your lunch place from you now, too.

“Fucking hell,” Bucky muttered caving to your defiance.

~~~

“So, you got rid of my car.” You noted as the two of you walked into the restaurant you wanted to eat lunch at. Bucky tried to protest bringing you here, but you simply stated that if you didn't get lunch from this place you would have a full-scale meltdown in public and he would have to deal with it. To which he begrudgingly agreed even though he seemed tense the entire way there.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because the replacement is an armored car that can withstand the rounds of AR-15’s.”

You fell silent at that response, you weren’t expecting it or that he was prioritizing your safety at such a high level. As you walked towards the table near the window the usual spot you sat at Bucky stopped you. You frowned up at him and waited as he looked around the room, before steering you in a different direction.

“What are you doing? I want to sit there.” You protested.

“No, you can’t sit here.” He shook his head.

“James I want to sit there, I always sit there, it’s my table.”

“No. Look around, for fucks sake.”

You paused your argument for a moment and looked around with a frown, you clearly didn’t see what he saw.

“I don’t see anything.” You snapped.

“The exits are blocked from that area of the room, they are obstructed by the pillars. The window opens up the vulnerability of a sniper, and the area is raised, hazardous for quick escapes.”

Everything he had just pointed out was something you wouldn’t have even thought of, it made a little more sense why he was assigned to you, the man was like a robot when it came to safety.

“Situational awareness.” You said softly, realizing he was right.

“Situational awareness.” Bucky nodded, a pleased glint in his eyes when he sees you finally understand what he is trying to say.

“Alright, where are we sitting?” You asked.

Bucky gestured to a table nearby and walked you over, his hand on your back as he did so. The waitress comes over and hands you a menu she flashes Bucky a wide smile which he returns. Obviously, she blushes three shades of red and scurried off once more, you rolled your eyes at this. To be fair, he was really pretty.

Bucky took up a stance near the table not joining you, he crossed his arms over his massive chest, that broody look settling over his face once more as his eyes moved across the restaurant. You frowned at him,

“What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“Sit down, you idiot.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“I don't care, I don’t want to attract attention by having your 220-pound ass hovering around me.”

“It’s for safety.”

“Well, you look really stupid and people are starting to stare, so sit the fuck down.”

Bucky chuckled, an actual chuckle and this amazed you. Had you really gotten the grumpy Winter Soldier to chuckle?

He doesn't say anything, instead, he walked over, kicked back the chair and dropped down into it, beside you. Resting his hulking forearms on the table, he looks at you, pointedly.

“Better?”

“Much.” You replied unable to keep the amused smile off your face.

He shook his head and said nothing. Instead, he watches you with a playful glint in his eyes. He doesn’t know how, or why, but he finds himself having a glimmer of interest in you. Maybe he even liked you a little, it was all that defiance and sass, it just reminded him of small Stevie.

Boy, was he in trouble with this one.

[lady-of-lies]

Picture it

A/N: Finally Friday.. I feel slightly proud for making it out of this week alive... Anyway, here is prompt 8 and since time has become my biggest luxury it is also prompt 16 of the year long challenge. I have as you may have noticed given up on editing my fics so mistakes may be found, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. And lets see if you can spot the Golden Girls reference in here...

Prompt: *You are sitting around a campfire. There are stars shining in the sky. Someone asks “If you had the power to change one person's life, how would you do it?”* and “If the stars fell from the sky, it is because they are weeping because I received your love and they did not.”

Word count: 1135

Warnings: none

Peter Parker x reader

I think it's safe to say that we’ve all had them. We have all had at least one one of those school activities that are compulsory, and that everyone tries to get out of one way or the other. Those dreadfully boring and time consuming field trips where nobody really listens to anything that is being said, that one annual sports tournament where everybody makes a big fool out of themselves, well, everyone except for the actual athletes that is. Then there's the worst one of them all. The worst of the worst. The one with a bus ride so long that no one can feel their legs when trying to get off the smelly bus and makes everyone question the schools understanding for the word weekend. 

You may know what I’m talking about, or you may not. One thing is for sure though. Peter Parker would never forget this trip to hell that turned out to not be as bad as he, or anyone else for that matter, first had thought. 

It was a Saturday evening, the sky was clear and a million stars had begun their daily dance  high above the heads of the students from Midtown high school. Peter had still not gotten over the journey, the bus had, as expected, been more of a moving wreckage than a school bus and he could still smell the old gum on his hand. The one he had unknowingly touched when he’d tried to make himself somewhat comfortable on the low-budget vehicle. Why the school felt it to be necessary to schedule a camping after office hours was beyond him. Especially when there wasn’t a single soul here wishing they were anywhere else.

Peter was not an exception. All he wanted to do was to jump on the next moving thing that would be able to get him back into the city, be it the smelly bus, a train, truck or horse he would not hesitate. He would do anything to get back home. Back into your loving arms to be precise. You and Peter had only been dating for a little over six months but the both of you felt like you’d known eachother your whole lives. He had never thought he would be able to get a girl as beautiful, smart and kind as you. You completed him and a day without you was like a year without rain: not possible.

A small group of students had dragged a few old boles out of the woods and made a provisional campsite, a campsite at which Peter was currently sat with Ned chewing his ear of on the right and Mj complaining on the left. He was being sandwiched, if you will. Somewhere along the line his mind had started to wander away to better times, times spent with you. He could clearly remember the first time you’d seen him in full Spider-man gear, it had been an accident, but it's Peter so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that he was lousy at keeping secrets.

It was about four months ago….

You had agreed to meet up at the local diner for a quick milkshake before the movie theatre let people into the salons. You had been there early, thinking it best to be there first and make a good impression. Peter had had the same idea at first, but an ATM robbery had gotten in the way and he lost track of time. 

After saving Mr.Delmar and his cat from the now ruined shop he managed to catch a glimpse of a nearby clock. “Shit” was his first thought. He was late. Again. He started to run without thinking, if you were still there waiting for him after all this time there was no way you would forgive him. Well that’s what he had thought anyway. It turns out, you were more amazing than he had ever thought, you had forgiven him without batting an eye at the clock right behind you.

It had taken him some explaining before you’d come to terms with the whole hero thing, but even after dropping a bomb like that on you all you seemed to do was check the time before saying, and this he remembers very vividly, “I think we missed the movie, but what would you say to some stargazing?” That had been the moment he knew that you were the one for him. It was also the day that he had proclaimed his love to you for the very first time. 

It had all been very romantic. You were draped over his lap while he mindlessly ran his fingers through your hair. It had been a most special moment indeed, there had been more shooting stars showing themselves that night than any of you had seen in all your life combined and he had chosen that exact moment to say the magic words.

“If the stars fall from the sky, it is because they are weeping because I received your love and they did not. I love you Y/N”

His train of thought was rudely interrupted by Neds voice, still  way to close to Peter’s right ear for his liking, he let out a small sound of uncomfort as Ned’s words were fully processed by his daydreaming brain. 

“Dude, are you listening? It’s your turn to answer”

Right. The game of truth or dare had completely slipped his mind. Did there ever occur a single school camping trip without someone declaring the usual game of truth or dare? If Peter were to guess, nobody really wanted to play but it had become a tradition of sorts that noone wanted to break. You don’t break traditions after all. Never. But on what on earth are you supposed to answer to such a question?! 

Picture this, somewhere in the woods 2019, You are sitting around a campfire. There are stars shining in the sky. Someone asks “If you had the power to change one person's life, how would you do it?” What the hell do you answer? Well, Peter didn’t know either, and that’s why he simply stood up from his uncomfortable sandwich position and gave a very blunt answer.

“I would change my own so that I would never have to “use the bathroom” while outside ever again”

Maybe camping trips wasn’t so bad after all. But next time, you were coming for sure. 

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[stories-mostly]

Stark's Bug

Tony Stark x son!reader

I saw endgame on the 24th and all in gonna say is it sure was a movie and my knees hurt afterwards. (Please don't put any spoilers in the replies thanks) This is the last chapter before Iron man 2.

Words: 2188

Warnings: none

Chapter 14

Christmas Eve rolled around and you were too excited to go to sleep. That and the fear of having a nightmare again is what kept you awake. You hadn't had a nightmare in a week and 3 days so you assumed that it might happen again soon.

Repeating the same motions with your Captain Magic figure above you while laying on your bed got boring quickly. And the thirst was calling. Begrudgingly you went out to get yourself water or something.

The house was quiet beside your bare feet making noise as they took another step. The floor was cold for your blanket warm feet so you walked on your toes to avoid the feeling and the weird noise as much as possible.

Walking past one of the clocks you noted dully that it was already 11.27pm. Way past your usual dream land time.

You walked into the kitchen not expecting anyone to be in it. You jumped when you saw a man standing in it before realizing that it was your father.

Sharply you breathed out the shock and moved past him to get you a glass.

"What're you doing awake?" He asked vividly remembering having tucked you in a few hours back. You seemed pretty tuckered out then.

"I'm thirsty."

He hummed seeming concentrated on the drink he was making in your blender. It looked disgusting.

"What's that?" You pointed at the blender with the dark green thick liquid in it.

"A little healthy snack." He grimaced "Wanna try?" Suddenly smirking. He looked exhausted.

You shook your head, downing your tap water in two gulps, placing the glass in the sink after.

Tony followed your example basically inhaling the thing. He didn't look happy after.

"How is it?"

"Could be better."

The two of you just stood there in silence for a second. Tony looked you once over.

"You can't sleep, right?"

You nodded hesitantly. He smiled at that.

"Get dressed in something warm." He told you immediately turning to walk out of the room.

Confused you did as told and stood in the middle of the living room wearing your winter coat, warm pants and some boots over your Pjs.

Your father carrying several things came, took your hand without a word and started leading you through the house. Up some stairs, all familiar so far. He leads you out onto the highest balcony looking over the rought waves.

"Come on." He said waving at you to follow him.

At the point where Balcony and roof met was where he stopped.

"We're gonna climb up here." He explained hoisting you onto the roof and following soon after.

Climbing onto the highest roof of the mansion all the lights in and around the house turned off at once.

Your eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the newfound darkness only to find an incredible view.

There were thousands of tiny specks of light in an array of colours decorating the sky.

"Whoa," was the only thing you could muster to get out of your mouth.

"Right?" Tony was spreading out a blanket and pillows on the roof.

You looked back and saw him holding out a big box wrapped in Captain Magic themed wrapping paper. The box was longer than it was tall. Or taller than it was wide depending on how you propped it up.

"This is for you." Tony said as you just stared at the gift.

"What is it?" You took it and sat down on the blankets ready to tear through the thin paper.

"A gift." He smirked and told you to open it.

You didn't have to be told twice. With little effort the paper fell from the box and revealed the picture of a telescope on the side.

"This is so cool!" You jumped up and engulfed your father in the biggest Bear hug your small body could muster.

"Happy birthday Jesus." He said chuckling a bit at his own joke.

Both of you started to assemble your new telescope. Tony had already taken it out of the box once to get rid of all the unnecessary byproducts of the packaging. He had assembled and taken it apart before as well. Just to get it standing as soon as possible.

Within a minute or two your star looking tool was standing proudly before you already pointing at the sky.

All fatigue was gone as soon as you got a glimpse of the moon through the device. There was so much more detail to the moon than you could've ever imagined.

Tony smiled softly as you continued to steer the tube to the next source of light.

"Dad! Come here look it's a planet!" You waved him over in excitement careful not to move the Telescope.

With a grunt he stood up and waddled over leaning down to observe what you'd found.

"Wow that's amazing, Bug. That must be super far away."

Satisfied with his answer you grabbed your telescope again and continued exploring the universe.

In about half an hour you had found so many cool sights that Tony couldn't keep track of all the wow's and "look at this" he heard. Each time getting back up and looking at the star you wanted to show him. You were so excited he couldn't help smiling with you.

But the half hour was enough for now. Fatigue finally catching up to you.

"Let's go to bed, Bug. You're tired." He said softly when you sat down beside him.

"No I'm not! I wanna look at the stars some more!" You protested loudly, laying down on the thick blankets and staring up at the sky to make your point.

With a chuckle your dad copied your movements, laying his head down on his arm using the other to point out various stars.

"Do you know any constellation?" He asked eyes on the sky.

"Only the small dipper and big dipper."

"And where are they?"

You shrugged.

"I guess we'll just have to make up our own then." The next 15 minutes were spend pointing out various star clusters and assigning them a name. Together you named 6 constellations: Hero, Mermaid, dog, lane, spot and circle. Not very fascinating but easy to find.

"You see that star in the middle of nowhere?" He pointed to his right breaking the silence. You followed his finger up to the sky finding the lonely star.

"That's the one I'm gonna go built my new house on."

You giggled.

"What?"

"You cant do that! Stars arent made of dirt! It's like the sun! You can't build a house there." You said reciting all the things you had read about the sun and the stars.

"You don't know that! You were never there."

"I can check with my Telescope! It's not a planet!"

"Oh yeah? Then how come we can see other planets as stars?"

"Because...." you thought about it. That's sort of true. It could just be a planet or sort of moon from far away.

"You can't build a house there." You mumbled defeated.

"I can, and I will. Just you see Bug, one morning I'll be gone and you'll look through that telescope and see me wandering around on that exact star enjoying my new house. All, by, my,-self." He teased poking your side with his free arm. You laughed.

Silence settled over the two of you like a comfortable blanket. Tony shifted a little placing both hands beneath his head. You put your head on his arm and continued looking up. The universe seemed so much bigger when you directly looked at it like this. Like a thousand fairy lights strung along on the colourful ceiling of a dark room. Or flicks of white paint as finishing pieces of an amazing painting.

With some sweet thoughts about the universe you drifted off content and warm on the thick blankets and your warm winter clothes.

Tony smiled at the scene. His little boy laying content beside him, scooting closer as the cold seeps through his clothes. He wanted to move, it was way too cold out here for sleeping. But he wasn't able to. Frozen in place by his latest thoughts.

Carefully he checked if his son was actually asleep. He was, the little guy was in deep sleep his mouth hanging open and little puffs of air escaping it in regular intervals.

It was probably Christmas day already.

With a sigh he laid his head back down and stared up at the seemingly endless sky.

So this was it, this had been his last Christmas eve and will be his last Christmas. If he doesn't find a cure that is.

Tony was still in denial about the whole thing. He doesn't fully believe it yet, but he knows it's there. Just months after almost getting killed, he's slowly dying. Slowly being poisoned by the very thing meant to keep him alive.

That wasn't the worst part about it though. The worst part was that his mind was constantly telling him that he'll be leaving behind his very reason for fighting on. This fragile little boy full of emotions that he readily expresses. Plagued by nightmares about horrible thing he didn't want to reveal. Who wants to be friends with the world. And who slept in his fathers bed every night for the first 4 years of his life. For over half his life.

He was only 7. And Tony blamed himself for all the shit y/n had to witness in the small amount of time he had spent on earth. Not even a decade old.

With a shuddered sigh he picked up his son and brought him inside, dropping him off in his bed and removing the boy's warm clothes.

He cleaned off the roof and wandered down into the lab. He hadn't checked everything yet. There was still hope that he could survive, he had to. If not for himself then for his son.

The only human being that truly relies on his survival.

Bonus because I needed something lighthearted

Nickolas J. Fury had had a long day. Recently his agents were fucking up more than usual and a good chunk were currently on Christmas leave. So many in fact that he had to go out and deal with a bunch of wannabe villains himself. And now he was walking into the shield headquarters to complete a bunch of paperwork. On early Christmas day.

With an annoyed sigh he entered his office and stopped in his tracks at the sight before him. There was a package on his desk. Brown and unsuspecting. He took in his surroundings. Nothing seemed suspicious.

Fury stepped out of his office to look for someone who could maybe tell him about it. But the halls were empty. It was late at night after all.

He sighed and carefully walked closer seeing something written on top.

It was his name and the buildings address. And there was a return address as well.

"What?" He asked himself quietly. Why would Stark of all people send him a package?

The package looked like it had actually been shipped so it probably was from him. And wasn't just a weird joke.

Fury took his knife and cut through the tape holding it shut. Opening itcwith suspicion.

His face just grew more confused as he found a poorly wrapped box inside, everything was covered in loose silver and gold glitter. He lifted out the gift and found the glitter bomb that was a handmade Christmas card underneath.

When he lifted it wafts of poorly secured glitter fell off the front.

He shook it twice to get as much of that stuff contained in the box as possible.

Fury had a hunch on who sent the gift by the shaky child drawing of a decorated tree on the front.

He decided to sit down and read the card. Wrong move, as soon as he opened the card a spoonful of loosened glitter fell straight into his lap and onto his dark clothing. Fury tried to push the glitter off his lap with his free hand but some still stuck.

A frustrated sigh left his mouth when he gave up and read the card.

Dear Mr. Direk Director Fury,

I want to wish you a good Christmas and a happy new year.

You don't know me a lot but I would like to be your friend because you look really cool so I got you a gift for Christmas. Because we are not friends yet I got you something I like and hope you like it too. I told Phil and he said it was a good gift.

I hope you like it.

Your new friend, full/n-Stark

Ps I like your eye patch

Fury found himself smiling at the message. It was sweet and came from a place of certain innocence. He could forgive the glitter attack. It wasn't intentional.

Carefully he removed the wrapping paper from the box and opened the top.

Inside were several things. He took out a drawing first. It was of him and y/n next to a Christmas tree with the words we are friends written beneath with an arrow pointing at the figures.

The second thing that immediately caught his eyes was a stuffed animal. A tiger with a cape and the typical comic book eye mask thingy. The tag said it was from a children's series. The tiger was named Stripes.

And last but not least was a small, real tiny keychain of a orange tabby also in superhero gear.

Fury wanted to full on laugh while also cursing Coulson internally.

A cat. Of course.

He was gonna have to thank the kid the next time he saw him.

Tags: @shannonr2003 @art-estrange @nicholasbich @tater-thottie @tonystanktheirondad @gaylemonshark @emilaa2001 @kindahadeschild

[dachi-chan25]

GoT S8 Episode 4 "I don't even care about the title of this" Recap

So here I am once again (I didn't do a Recap of the battle episode cuz frankly I'm not a huge fan of battle stuff, and it was very messy the way D&D executed it, there was not much stuff to analyze so yeah) and well the way some people talked about Jon yesterday really had me worried (and hey if you hate him now or don't believe in him it's fine, not your fault but the writers') but when I watched the episode I got a completely different impression (which is fine I mean sharing a ship doesn't mean we have to agree on every single thing) and I will talk about it.

Oh yeah I am not a fan of D, nor of aegony and I still believe in Pol! Jon and jonsa so if you are not intrested in reading about any of that this is not the Recap for ya.

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Funeral & Feast

From the very beginning of the episode I was like 👀👀. We get a shot of Ser Jorah's corpse and D mourning him and then we get the exact same thing with Theon and Sansa (drawing this parallels between them is truly intresting) but we only get Jon's sad expression after we get Sansa sobbing which makes me think he was watching her (this is also supported by the fact that D was not in his direct line of vision and the fact he is not standing anywhere near her in that moment or afterwards).

Jon gives a pretty emotional speech about the fallen and the future generations, and the director made sure we get a shot of Sansa behind Jon as he talks about the future generations (aka children) when a more open shot would have made it more vague and meaning about everyone's children and not just Jon & Sansa's, I mean for me the foreshadowing was strong.

The pyres are lit, and I guess this is where the rumours about WF burning started (gosh I am so glad they didn't had D burn it) .

Everyone is celebrating the victory in the Great Hall, everything starts on a serious note, until Gendry gets up the benches to go looking for Arya, and D calls on him. Ok serious talk, did any of y'all notice that look of worry that passes between Jon and Dadvos??? Like they were waiting for the worst, why in the Seven Hells would Jon expect the worst out of someone he supposedly loves and believes in? Cuz he does not. And yeah he is relieved but not relaxed when she names him Lord of Storms End (k seriously i thought d&d had completely forgot about the riverlands,stormlands, westerlands,the Reach, dorne, and everywhere else that was not "plot relevant" ) and the fact that no one even knew who was ruling there like? ??? Didn't Jon sent letters to every lord in season 4 or 5??? Like how do they not know this???

Back to Jon, he looks puzzled like he doesn't know what game she is playing. While she is patting herself in the back for getting rid of a man that had a better claim to the throne than her. Tyrion is a dumbass, cuz D can't name Gendry shit until she actually has the alliance of the stormlands but whatevs, she is not a politiciiian she is a kweeeen.

So yeah the mead and wine get passed around and everyone seems to be having a good time except for 1 person: D

Why is this? Well because she is not their hero, not really, and she knows, I mean she watched the NK walking through her flames, if not for ser Jorah she would be dead and that can't be cuz she is special she has to be cuz she is the last Targy except now she knows that is also not true, and we get her looking at Jon.

And Jon??? Well he doesn't give her the time of the day (again if he loved her so much he would be spending time with her, trying to include her in the conversation with him and his friends) cuz he is lauguing and drinking with Tormund and Sansa (honestly Sansa was so flirty with that "c'mon, do it in believe in you" like i have used that same line girl what), he turns around for a second and smiles at d (he is having a good time and why wouldn't he smile, she is not the one that made him smile he is smiling cuz he is happy and on his way to getting drunk) thing is Sansa catches him sharing a smile with D and her reaction is so out of proportion for a "sister" when she was all smiles and heart eyes not 2 seconds ago, her smile disappears and she leaves, what is Jon's reaction? He turns around and watches her leave super confused, D is smug until she realizes Jon didn't really pick her, she didn't won cuz he still is looking at Sansa and not back at her.

Things get crazy with Tormund and he shouts for anyone to hear that Jon is a "King" and then only then Jon turns to see D's reaction, and she gives him a forced smile that he returns because he doesn't want to antagonize her. By this point Jon is making 0 effort to resume their "relationship" but also doesn't want to be percived as her enemy.

And we get a terrifying look on D's face as she sees everyone around her celebrating without a care for her, their kween, cuz they would rather have Jon or Sansa, and she can't take it, so much she has to go.

Now we get a drinking game between Tyrion, Brienne, Jaime and Pod, is all cool until Tyrion mentions the fact Brienne is a virgin, she gets upset and leaves, Jaime goes for her and Tormund has the realization that he has no chance with Brienne. Now he goes to complain to the Hound who gives 0 fucks about his lonely soul, and suddenly everyone gets a sexual partner (everything is very heterosexual of course, we know the only gays in westeros are dead or in the Iron Islands) and we see Sansa watching (this is what she wants that she doesn't have, she doesn't want sex she wants romance but she can't have it with the one she wants) and she has a 1 on 1 with the Hound that I have already talked about.

Gendry finally finds Arya shooting arrows on her own, and tells her the good news, not only that but he proposes. And oh, I knew Arya wouldn't want to get married but this was hard to see, we still get a kiss so she loves him but that is not the life she wants for herself.

Aegonyyyy & "The Truth"

Jon is looking miserable in his room. I mean if anything has been consistent with Jon is the fact that he wants to deal with everything on his own, but the fact that he has to deal with this whole existential crisis and the up coming war must be exhausting. D enters his room unannounced (fooking rude, but I don't expect any better cuz she has never shown him respect at all, even Jon knocks when entering the office he shares with Sansa) he stumbles up (he is drunk totally unprepared for any conversation she wants to have) and gives her his condolences about Jorah (meaning this is the 1st conversation since the parentage reveal they have, and D is the one to iniciate it not Jon, again nothing about this makes me think he loves her) he doesn't hug her or approach her any further, as always D is the one forcing intimacy between them, honestly we get no real reaction from Jon when she tells him Jorah loved her but she couldn't love him cuz she loves Jon.

One of the cornerstone's of a romantic relationship is the frist time someone declares their love, and usually when one half of the pairing doesn't say it back it screams trouble. A kiss does not equal love, and it's not a good thing to do when someone is pouring their feelings for you. Now Jon does seem more into the kiss but as the director's commented he remembers what she is (not who but what) and pulls back. Jon's expression is not good if they selling me a romance, he doesn't look tortured by his desire and love for his aunt, but disgusted and defeated like he thought this was over but apparently nope he still has to be like this.

D has never respected Jon or his feelings (like when s7 was airing I remember I said she reminded me of Tw1l1ght when she watched Jon sleep, and how little she respects his privacy) and this imbalance in their relationship is again present when she starts complaining about how people love him and not her (gee I wonder if that has anything to do with setting your dragons on them when you arrived) like really, not once she worried about his feelings about not being who he thought he was, the only thing she cares about is the IT and if he will get in the way. Jon is visibly annoyed while giving his back to her so she doesn't seem but the audience does. What's more she expects Jon to lie to his family isolating himself from them to make her happy (that's fucked up) I do believe Jon intended to tell them everything (he just doesn't know how, and is understandably afraid cuz he never felt truly a part of the pack, and now he thinks he really is not) now he sees D is not going to let go of him, of the North, he can't say anything (i mean he totally should tho, I know d&d are just doing this to hold onto pol!Jon and dark!dany for as long as they can before being all smug like bet you didn't see it coming, except i do, I see u villians. Jk maybe I am wrong xd) he still wants to say it, and D goes absolutely crazy saying the truth is gonna destroy them (why dear isn't that the name of your epic couple song?) And that she wants to live in her selfish ass fantasy while stating how threatened she feels by Sansa (by this point Jon knows she burned the Tarlys for not bending and Sansa is not bending, if she bent know d would surely find it suspicious) the ONLY way he can protect Sansa as long as D is still at WF (and maybe forever) is if he is in the middle, her feelings for him have to be enough to stop her from hurting Sansa, or at least that is how I see his PoV right now, better for Sansa to be alive and hate him than having D kill her.

********The Braime is scene was so good tho 😢😢😢😍😍😍

War Council & Stark Meeting

Or the moment most people wanted to throw Jon in the trash...

So they making stupid ass, basic plans to defeat chess master Cersei.

And there, told ya D wanted to burn shit down before Missandei. Jon gets her to listen (Tyrion is grateful af)and instead of burning shit down like idiots they will lay a siege. But then Sansa raises an important issue everyone should care about: The physical and mental recovery of their armies. But D is like crazy tbh, there is no better word and she still treats the Long night as Jon's war and the northern as Sansa's people, and my girl rightfully calls her out. Jon puts a stop to that and he was heavily critiziced for it, but like he did the right thing?? I mean i hated how hurt Sansa looked, but Jon is trying (still) real hard to protect her, but there is nothing he can do if Sansa keeps antagonizing D (did y'all see how out of proportion was her reaction to a valid question??) also I think Jon wants to get D as far away from his family (specially Sansa) as possible.

Onto the reunión it was pretty telling how Sansa and Jon were already fighting it out like they do, both lost in their little world til Arya is like guys pls stop. Arya served as an excellent contrast between what sisterly concern looks like and what Sansa is showing. Jon is desperate, he has to go with D, not only because his family will not be safe if Cersei is alive, but because D feels they owe her that, and D wants him by her side and that is the only way she won't accuse him or his family of plotting against her, by this point i don't think jon has any plan to separate himself from her, he will do what she wants for as long as she wants because she has the power to hurt the people he loves and he rather be unhappy than losing his family forever. So he makes Bran tell them and makes them swear they won't tell anyone (he is explicitly defying D's wishes here) why?? Well there could be many reasons, his last act of free will, or maybe he wants the Starks to hate him and get him out of the pack (he doesn't even consider himself a part of the pack, and from his PoV Sansa doesn't either, cuz he is an idiot just not in the way people think he is) for choosing his Targ family over them, I lean toward the later but who knows?? I just know something bad had to happen for Arya to leave like that with no intention of returning and Sansa not saying goodbye to Jon and just wistfully watch from the battlements.

Farewell Jon

Again people hated Jon for this. But imho Jon is clearly not well in that moment, he looks tired, depressed. And i doubt very much this is the last scene with Ghost he will have.

Also Jon says he wishes he could go North is pretty sad?? If Jon loved d that much he would be sad about being at odds with his family but determined he is doing the right thing, he would be at least a little eager or something, not saying he wishes he could go up north and hide himself from everything. Also Tormund saying a part of the north will always be in Jon is foreshadowing that he will definitely come back.

Jon self deprecating "I hope it's a girl" when gilly tells him they want to name the baby after him. Jon is not alright.

He can't say goodbye to Ghost because this is not goodbye, this is not the last time they will see each other, and Jon can't bring himself to say goodbye (tbh he looked like the saddest boy ever, he didn't look like an uncaring ass to me) because ghost is his tie to his stark side, and he just can't part from that (also I am good with Jon not taking him to the South, like we don't wanna see my pure boy die)

Tyrion, she is in love with Jon u idiot.

So yeah D is with the dragons, and i don't know about y'all but Rhaegal is flying just fine (I think D didn't want Jon riding Rhaegal anymore to avoid more talk about how kingly he is).

So yeah Sansa is seeing this lizards fly, and Tyrion approaches her, she is not even trying to disguise how much she loathes the idea of D being kween, Tyrion is trying to work out why, it would certainly make things easier if the Lady of WF and the crown had a civil relationship. Sansa acts very snappy and brings up the good relationship the Warden of the North has with their kween (I want to slap Tyrion everytime he says "she is your kween too" to any other character) Tyrion very unsubtly says Jon is not coming back, and Sansa gets so emotional, she tells him she doesn't want Jon to go South.

Tyrion is baffled (cuz he is boo boo the fool) as to why Sansa is so against D, and even tells her how much more power she'll have if Jon is out of the picture. She doesn't want power tho she wants Jon. Sansa cleverly points out Tyrion is scared of D, and asks him why he thinks she would be a good kween (lmaooo this is what it looks like when u a brainwashed fool, Tyrion straight up says he believes in D as opposed to Jon saying they needed her armies) Tyrion says bs and Sansa says what if there was a better option. (This might save Jon's ass later tbh)

Welp that escalated fast

So now, we have the stupidest team ever traveling by boat to KL or dragonstone??? Somewhere in between maybe.

Varys and Tyrion are having a chat about Jon's parentage. Welp. Varys is Team Snow now I guess and Tyrion is still a fool. Honestly none of this bodes well for the D.

Now she is flying magestically with her 2 dragons when bam! Euron sinks her battleship and her battle dragon and her everything.

D, like the impulsive fool she is, charges against the Greyjoy fleet only to discover that they all have Scorpions, and she is risking it too much.

Everyone swims to the shore (honestly how Lucky they are that everyone knows how to swim) but Missandei is missing.

Cersei is the supreme bitch drinking wine and relishing in how unprepared D team is. Missandei is chained (😢) and very scared.

In WF, Sansa gets the news (who sent her this raven?? Varys is my bet) and Jaime overhears. Sansa says she wishes she could watch Cersei's execution (and this was pretty harsh but Cersei deserves Sansa's hate so..) Jaime gets unsettled and that paired up with that scene of the previously on where Cersei reveals she is pregnant plus all that stuff on 8x02 about him doing things for his family, I guess it's pretty clear he will try to save Cersei for the baby's sake not out of love but because the baby is innocent and is his, he already has fought D and knows his chances to survive again are scarce so he has to hurt Brienne now if he doesn't want her to follow him.

This shit is racist as hell but the writing is poor and everyone hated it so I guess it's something.

Now we get to the parley. And idk why Tyrion keeps trying (I mean i guess it's for the baby as well) is clear Cersei would rather die than leave the throne to d (which is just as well cuz d thinks the same).

They try to negotiate but both kweens are too selfish and entitled for it to really work. Missandei gets beheaded, but before she says Dracarys (how sad they don't let her say I love you to Greyworm one last time and instead is used as a permission for d to go bersek on innocent people that are not responsible for Cersei's actions) honestly is disappointing we don't get to see if D would have allowed her and GW to leave, it's sad she doesn't get her own story apart from D's handmaiden and that her own death is not about herself but to cause pain to a white woman (that already has a super racist storyline) and turn her full dark (I mean she has been making the descent on her own just fine whyyy u do this d&d).

That’s it, that’s my take. I am looking forward to next week.

[smallmarvel]

Forever Means Forever - part 2

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Summary: Growing up with your best friends Steve and Bucky in the 40′s was the highlight of your entire life. But honestly, being a governmental weapon doesn’t offer much competition.

WC: 1.4k

A/N: Pretty sure this low key sucks but it’s okay because it’ll get better! I can’t wait to show you guys the next part! Comments are strongly encouraged, I’d love to know what you think or ideas you have :)

Warnings: death, mourning 

part 1

You heard your alarm clock blaring and swung your arm over your bed to turn it off. Another day, another mission, another kill. You yawned and threw your legs off the bed. You quickly changed into your suit and made your way to the jet. Every day was the same. You were briefed at the beginning of the week, then followed through. Every. Single. Day. You were the government’s property, so you did as you were told. You buckled in on the jet as it started its route to wherever the hell it was going. You set your head back and closed your eyes.

You turned the page of your magazine you were reading on your front porch. You’d finally received a message from Steve the other day. He was safe. They’d actually taken him into the army. You’d figured just as much. It was just good to ease your conscience and know that he wasn’t dead. Even though he wouldn’t be much better off in the war. You’d finally adjusted to life without your best friends. All you had was your waitressing job at the diner, and your hope. Your hope that your best friends would come back safe and sound to you.  

You were ripped out of your daydream by a knock on the column of your porch. A young man in a tan uniform pulled out a sheet of paper and your heart dropped. 

“Excuse me, are you (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?” All you could manage was a nod. “Do you share this apartment with James Buchanan Barnes?” you nodded again. “I’m very sorry, ma’am, but Barnes is MIA, as is Steven Grant Rogers. You were listed as his only emergency contact,” he saluted and walked back down the porch steps. Your magazine dropped to the ground. 

You stood and ushed your way into your house before your legs gave out. You tripped over the coffee table and fell onto the ground. Your body shook with silent sobs and you cried harder than you’d ever cried in your entire life. Your heart was shattered and your body felt like a stone. Your lungs were on fire. You couldn’t stop thinking about how you were going to have to live without them. You couldn’t. You just couldn’t live without them. 

Life continued like this. You cried yourself to sleep every night. You barely ate, slept, or did much of anything. After two or so weeks, you got your first wakeup call. You were being evicted. The apartment you’d shared with Bucky for three years was going to be taken away from you. It was the last thing you cared about. Material possessions meant nothing to you anymore. So you decided to get your shit together and sell everything. You sold clothes, furniture, everything. While you were purging, you got an idea.

“Hello, I’m Thomas (Y/L/N),” you spoke in your lowest voice. The recruitment officer shuffled the papers on his desk and sighed. 

“You’re looking to enlist?” he peered at your over his glasses. You nodded. You were sweating and shaking and cursing yourself for coming up with this awful idea. Your baggy clothes swamped you, making you even hotter. In grade school, you’d read about several women who had dressed up as men and fought in wars. With all the technological differences, you should’ve known you couldn’t have gotten away with it. You just thought it was something nice to honour Bucky and Steve. They were all you had to live for, anyway. With them gone, you didn’t mind dying for the same cause they had, and, in a way, for them. “Well, get ready for the physical examination,” he said, standing up and tucking the papers into a manilla folder on the desk. “The doctor will be in shortly.”

He exited the room and shut the door. Your heart rate increased and you began to panic. What were you supposed to do? You hadn’t thought this through all the way. Your brain was racing a million miles a minute and you knew you were quickly running out of options. You heard the door open and a little man with grey hair and glasses walked in. You sat down on the examination bed. He sat down on the swivel chair and laced his hands together, laying them on his lap.

“You can calm down, (Y/N),” he said. Your eyes widened and you did the exact opposite. Your heart rate quickened, if that was possible, and you felt your body go into flight mode. “We know why you’re here. We know about Rogers and Barnes,” he sighed. “We know you were very close with them. Clearly, you share their bravery and courage.”

“Who is ‘we’?” You found your voice. You took off your hat and your outer layer of clothes, revealing your normal pants and shirt. He sighed again.

“The government, (Y/N),” you squinted at him. “We chose Rogers for a top-secret experiment to turn him into a super soldier. However, the serum was destroyed. We have been hoping to find a new candidate for the new and improved serum. We figured you would be a good candidate,” you didn’t even think twice. 

“Yes,” you said. His eyes widened. 

“Are you sure? I mean, there’s a lot involved in-” you cut him off.

“I’m sure,” you said. “I’m doing this for Bucky and Steve.”

You laughed at the memory. You were so young and naive. You should have listened to the terms and conditions before you made the biggest decision of your entire life. The serum gave you super strength, incredible reflexes, and an incredible body. On top of all of this, you literally could not get hurt. You were virtually indestructible. You couldn’t even get so much as a papercut. 

It was the worst decision of your life. For the past 70 years, you’d been made to destroy and kill. You did the missions that the government was too scared to do. You were just a weapon, a tool. Sure, they gave you food, housing, anything you could ask for. In exchange for your freedom. After a few years of it, while you were technically still in the trials for the new serum, you had realized how much of a curse this new power was. As far as you were concerned, you couldn’t die. Any blade that touched your skin broke, any fist that tried to hit you shattered. That’s why you decided to destroy the serum and all plans that had come with it. You wouldn’t allow them to do this to anyone else. They were playing God and they knew it. 

Unfortunately but understandably, you were punished. That’s why you were under house arrest and had no freedom. Sometimes you were given liberties, but you mostly just stayed in the place they housed you. You had nothing else to do, anyway. 

You didn’t have a phone, computer, or television. As far as you were concerned, it was still the 40′s. You were content with your newspapers and your books. You sewed in your free time. Of course, the government fed all of these hobbies. They provided you with any books or materials that you wanted. You’d even been the one who made your suit. It was dark blue and felt like a second skin. You could fight with no problem in it. It was a big improvement from your first suit, the one they’d provided you with.

You lived a bleak, bleak life. The only highlight was when you were able to venture to the museum to see the Captain America exhibit. You’d only been a handful of times. It hurt when you went, but you were happy to be able to see Steve again, even if it was just the glorified version of Captain America. You were incredibly proud of Steve. He’d gotten what he wanted, a chance to fight for his country. He was brave and courageous, everything he’d always been, but had a chance to finally use. Even up until his last second alive, he was protecting the greater good. You still missed Steve and Bucky, but the sharp pain had turned into a dull ache over the years. 

You were so caught up in your thoughts that you’d hardly realized that the ship was landing. You prepared to hear the words “(Y/N), prepare for dispatch”, beginning to unbuckle your seatbelt, but they didn’t come. Instead, it boomed “Prepare for a change of course”. You were confused. You heard Fury’s voice in your ear.

“You’re headed to Antarctica,” he said. “A certain Hydra bomber plane was just found.”

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Taglist: @chantelle-x0x @musical-whovian @kitty-satan1

[write-havoc]

This Is How I Disappear Ch. 49

Summary: A girl named Chuck finds herself in the exact place she doesn't want to be, living with violent men in a desolate nursing home. After her former gym teacher finds her, will he be the savior she was looking for?

Fandom: The Walking Dead AU

Pairing: Negan/Original Female Character

Status: Completed (story continues in The Flame Is Gone, The Fire Remains)

Contains: swearing, violence, sexual assault, blood, smut

Intended for readers 18+ of age only

Masterlists in my bio

——— Negan’s POV ———

We pull up to Hilltop and I’m not fuckin’ looking forward to this shit. It’s not just a fuckin’ name, these people actually see me as a savior. I rescued their women. I got rid of that fuck Gregory. And Hilltop has been fuckin’ flourishing ever since.

Now I have to tell them I was ass rammed by fuckin’ Eldritch and they’re going to have to follow Gregory again.

Fuck. This whole fuckin’ thing is gonna kill me, I swear to god.

The guys on the gate let us in and we park the car. Jesus comes out of the main house and leads us back into his office. I tell my guys to hang back, so it’s just me and Jesus fuckin’ talking.

“Did the discussion with Eldritch last this long?” Jesus asks as he takes his seat behind the desk. I’ve been keeping in touch with him, so he knows I was set to meet Eldritch this morning. And it’s fuckin’ late now, so...

I answer him. “No. Some other shit happened after.” I let out a sigh. “I got some bad fuckin’ news.”

He looks at me kinda shocked. “Your wife-“

“No,” I cut him off before he can ask what I know he was gonna fuckin’ ask. “She’s okay as far as I can fuckin’ tell. I meant I have bad news for you.”

“What is it?”

“Gregory’s alive and working with fuckin’ Eldritch.“

He looks shocked for a second then scrunches up his face. “How did Gregory make it all the way back here from where he was dropped off alive? To my knowledge he’s never even killed a walker before.”

“That’s not the fuckin’ worst part. Eldritch wants me to pull my men out of all my outposts and put fuckin’ Gregory back in charge here.”

Jesus just stares at me before he finally calls out, “What?”

“I hate this just as fuckin’ much as you do, but we have to act like we’re fuckin’ complying until I get Chuck back. Which, speaking of, we found Eldritch’s base earlier today, so I’m already coming up with a plan to take him the fuck down.”

Jesus shakes his head. “I don’t like this. No one is going to like this.”

“I know. But this shit is temporary. I fuckin’ promise you that. I just need you to trust me and go along with this shit for a little while.”

He stares at me for a second before he nods once.

I scratch at my beard. “I need you to get rid of that radio equipment before Gregory gets here. I do not want him privy to my fuckin’ plans.”

“There’s this cabin I use nearby that Gregory never knew about. I can set the radio up in there so we can still keep in touch. I’ll find a way to keep it manned without Gregory knowing. When’s he coming here.”

“Any time tomorrow, I guess. Eldritch told me to have all my guys gone before our fuckin’ meet in two days. I’m guessing old Gregs’ll be here before then.”

“I’ll get everything moved out tonight.”

I nod. “Good. I know you guys here are farmers, but I might need you guys to fight for me if the fuckin’ time comes.”

“Of course. Your men have been teaching some of the people here how to fight. And I’m sure if you ask, they’ll want to help out.”

“Can you gather all your people outside? I should fuckin’ address them my-fuckin’-self with all this.” I stand up with a groan. I don’t wanna do this shit.

A few minutes later, everyone is gathered around me out on the lawn.

I raise my arms in the air to start. “As some of you no doubt know, The Sanctuary was attacked the other day. Not only that, but something very fuckin’ precious to me was taken at the same time. The man that dared to fuckin’ come at me went right for the lowest fuckin’ blow possible and kidnapped my pregnant wife.”

People gasp. Apparently most of them didn’t know that fuckin’ detail.

I continue. “Because this man Eldritch has my wife, he has made some demands of me. And given the fuckin’ current circumstances, I am inclined to go through with them. But I want to make this absolutely fuckin’ clear, this. is. temporary. Once I get my girl back, I will kill that motherfucker who did this and everything will go back to fuckin’ normal. And in the meantime, I won’t let anything happen to you guys. You’re my people no matter what, and I will protect you.” I suck in a breath. “But one of the demands that motherfucker made is for me to relinquish control of Hilltop.”

People start to look around fuckin’ confused. “To Jesus?” someone calls out.

I shake my head. “Back to Gregory,” I answer.

“What?!”

“No!”

“He’s back?!”

“Why him?!”

Everyone starts to talk all at once and I don’t fuckin’ blame them. This is their home and it’s being threatened.

I raise my hand to settle them the fuck down. “I know. I have no fuckin’ idea how that limp dick found his way to Eldritch, but he did. And they’re working together.”

“We can fight back!” someone yells. “We won’t let him ruin what we’ve built!”

“We will fight back,” I respond. “Just not yet.”

“We fight back now !” someone calls out.

“Don’t you understand!?” a female voice yells over everyone. The owner of the voice pushes herself through the crowd to stand by me.

It’s Lisa, the pregnant woman I had talked to several fuckin’ times. I had some explaining to do after I rejected her sister’s fuckin’ advances. But then I told Lisa about Chuck and how she’s pregnant with my kid, so she understood in the end why I didn’t fuck her sister’s brains out. We talked a lot about pregnancy after that. What Chuck was probably experiencing in her own pregnancy. How it changed Lisa’s relationship with her husband.

That was when me and Chuck were kinda fighting. I didn’t give Lisa all the fuckin’ details, but she knew something was up when I talked about her. She told me to be easy on Chuck because she was all hormonal and shit. It worked out in the end any-fuckin’-way, since after that, me and Chuck professed our fuckin’ love for one another. And we’ve been strong as shit since then.

Well, Lisa’s not fuckin’ pregnant anymore. She’s carrying her son in one arm and gesturing to the crowd with the other. “We can’t fight back because Eldritch could kill Negan’s pregnant wife! And I don’t want that on my head! Do you?!” She looks around, but no one will look her in the eyes, knowing she’s fuckin’ right. “Negan has done nothing but good for all of us. He’s saved our people. His men have trained us to defend ourselves. His trade agreement with Alexandria has given us medicine we’ve needed, different foods for our diets, tools to strengthen our walls. We owe him. We owe him our loyalty and we owe him our trust.” She turns around to look at me. “I’ll stand behind you and your decisions. I know you’ll do what’s best for everyone.”

Jesus jumps in. “I agree with Lisa. We should hold off on fighting until the right moment. Until then, we act like everything’s normal.”

Slowly, people get on board, after a bit more fuckin’ explaining. In the end, the hill-folk agree not to raise a fuckin’ stink when Gregory gets here. But they’re eager to fight. Especially after I told them that some of my guys that they’re pretty familiar with are fuckin’ missing and presumed dead by Eldritch’s hand. The fact that these pastoral motherfuckers are turning into little pit bulls just tickles my balls.

I leave Hilltop a little more fuckin’ hopeful than when I arrived. Not only do I not have to worry about the hill-folk going over to the dark side, but I can count them among my men that will fight for me.

But that little ray of fuckin’ sunshine doesn’t eclipse just how goddamn shitty everything is right now.

It’s fuckin’ late when I finally get home, but I’m not gonna fuckin’ sleep. Not now. I want to get started fuckin’ planning how to take down that shithead that’s fucking up my life. So I head off to Simon’s room to talk to him about it. I knock on his door and wait. I know he’s fuckin’ sleeping so I give him a minute to get the fuck up.

He finally answers the door in his boxers, his hair all fuckin’ crazy. Or crazier than normal, I guess.

“We gotta talk.” I move to push past him and into his room, but he stops me.

“Frankie and Tonya are sleeping,” he whispers and throws his thumb over his shoulder.

I peek my head in his room and see the former wives all cuddled up together on his couch. I fuckin’ forgot I sent them there.

“Get dressed and come to my office.”

I head upstairs and immediately go to my liquor cabinet to grab two glasses and a bottle of bourbon. I come back out to my desk and sit down to wait for Simon to get the fuck up here. By the time the door opens and he walks through it, I had already poured myself a drink and downed it. I slide his glass over to him as he sits in the chair across from me, but he pushes it back.

“I think 4am is a little early to start drinking,” Simon half jokes. That’s how he always was when shit got bad, joking to make sure my dark moods didn’t fuckin’ consume me. And I know he can sense that this shit happening right now could get pretty fuckin’ dark.

He might be right about it being early, but I pour myself another drink and toss it down my fuckin’ throat anyway. After I slam the glass down on my desk, I dig into my jacket pocket and fish out the picture of Chuck. I look at it for a second before I hand it to Simon without a word.

“Shit,” he whispers when he stares at it. “She looks...”

“Terrified?” I answer for him.

He looks up at me. “She doesn’t look hurt.” He holds the picture out to me again.

I scoff then take a swig straight from the bottle. “There’s that, I fuckin’ guess.” I take the picture back from him and put it in my pocket.

“What did Eldritch want?”

“Our guns. The outposts. Hilltop. And, oh yeah, weekly fuckin’ tribute,” I drone sarcastically.

“That all?” he jokes back with just as much sarcasm.

I let out a sigh. “He wants the guns in two fuckin’ days.” I scrub at my face. “Well... tomorrow now, I guess, since it is 4am. And we gotta get all the guys out of the fuckin’ outposts by then, too.”

“What about Hilltop?”

“We pull our men and leave the hill-folk. And fuckin’ Gregory is moving back in.”

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” he says with a groan.

“Nope.” I sigh. “But I talked to the hill-folk before I came here. And they’re gonna play their part.”

“Which is?”

“Lay back and think of England ‘til we get Chuck back,” I answer bluntly. It fuckin’ sucks that that’s my plan. But it’s all I got right now.”

“Shit,” Simon groans, obviously thinking that plan sucks ass. “Rick radioed earlier and talked about what you guys saw out there. And he said he found a place to set up near Eldritch’s compound. He’s got a generator and all that so he can get the radio up and running in the morning. So,” he looks at his watch, “in a few hours.”

I nod. He’s all up to speed, I guess. “There’s no fuckin’ way we can attack that compound head on. The dead’ll fuckin’ swarm us before we even get to it.”

He nods. “The tunnel any easier?”

“It’s heavily fuckin’ guarded. And that’s just what we can see. Who knows how many guys are just fuckin’ waiting inside the tunnel with machine guns and shit. We could be walking into a goddamn death trap. Besides, any attack is too dangerous with Chuck still in there. If Eldritch sees us coming, he might fuckin’ hurt her.” I rub at my eyes. Shit, I’m tired. But I gotta get this shit done. “We have to wait until Chuck is safe before we make our move.”

“Is Eldritch gonna exchange her for the weapons?”

“I hope so. But I’m not fuckin’ sure. He said I’d get Chuck when our deal is done. That might mean when he gets the fuckin’ guns. It might mean when he gets our tribute.”

The thought of Chuck being away from me for another fuckin’ week makes me want to tear my whole office apart and bring Lucille down on anything that’s left. But I gotta keep it together. I gotta be able to fight.

Simon itches at his cheek and tries to sound hopeful. “Maybe we’ll get her back tomorrow. Maybe he’ll hand her over when he gets the guns.”

“It wouldn’t be the play I’d make,” I say flatly. It’d be fuckin’ stupid for him to lose that leverage so quick.

“You wouldn’t’ve kidnapped a pregnant girl in the first place.”

I shrug before I take another swig from my bottle. “I want to attack that piece of shit the second Chuck is back here safe and fuckin’ sound. So we need to get ready in the event that that fuckin’ happens tomorrow.”

“What’s the plan?”

I let out a heavy breath and gesture to Simon. “We gotta come up with one.”

“Hmm.” He rubs down his mustache. “You said going in through the front is a no-go. We got any idea how many men are in that compound?”

“Nope. They got all the windows covered pretty much, so we can’t see shit inside. Chuck’s fuckin’ window was uncovered, so I saw her.”

“Really?”

I nod, but I don’t want to go any further into it, so I change the subject back. “But everything else is just a fuckin’ guess. And that place is fuckin’ huge. He could have five hundred men in there, for all we fuckin’ know.”

“We’ll have to lure them out somehow.”

“Hmm.” I rub my chin as I think it over. But then a thought comes to me and I start to smile. “Or not.”

“Whatcha thinking?”

“We use those fuckin’ dead against them.” I can tell he’s fuckin’ confused so I elaborate. “We close off that tunnel somehow. Maybe block it off with a truck or something. Then use some of those fuckin’ explosives we got and blow fuckin’ holes in the side of that building. The dead’ll file the fuck in and kill off the vast majority of those motherfuckers without us having to do shit. We wait around, see if any of those fuckers come out alive and take them down.”

“How are we gonna get explosives anywhere near that building?”

“Gut up. Wander through the dead and plant the bombs on a remote trigger or some shit. I bet that mullet weirdo can rig that shit up.”

“Gut up? There’s a reason we stopped doing that shit.”

I fuckin’ know what he’s talking about. When we figured out that the fuckin’ biters don’t go after their own, we would have guys cover themselves in the gross ass guts of the dead to get into overrun places. But some of the guys got fuckin’ sick. One even died, so we never did that shit again.

“I fuckin’ know there’s a risk. But we can do it better than we used to. Maybe they can not get it on their fuckin’ skin or something.” I run my hand through my hair, thinking of how this could fuckin work. “Wait. Don’t we have some of those latex sex suits from that time someone thought it’d be fuckin’ hilarious to empty out a sex store?”

Simon chuckles. “Yeah. They’re in storage. No one wanted that shit at the market.”

“My guys can put that shit on under their clothes. And use masks and shit so they don’t actually touch the fuckin’ guts. That should be safe.”

Simon looks down and shakes his head before he looks back to me. “And who exactly is gonna do this, Negan? Gut up. Walk through a herd with a literal fuckin’ bomb. Then walk back out before it explodes?” He shakes his head again. “No one will volunteer for that shit.”

That sets me off and I slam my fist down on the desk. “Then I’ll do it my-fuckin’-self!”

Simon stares at me for a second. “No. I’ll do it before you will. You’re too important here.” He looks away for a second. “You have a kid on the way.”

I shake my head and rub the back of my neck, calming myself down. “I think this is the only fuckin’ plan we got, Simon. How the fuck else are we gonna go in stealth and get past the fuckin’ dead? We don’t have time for the recon that would lead to a better fuckin’ plan.”

He lets out a heavy breath. “You’re right.”

“So today, we get fuckin’ busy. I need all the guys pulled from the outposts. And I need the lieutenants to empty their stockpiles and bring that shit back here.”

Each lieutenant is responsible for one stockpile and each stockpile is hidden out near one of the outposts. Only me, Simon, and the lieutenants even know about the extra weapons. And the lieutenants only know about their stockpile. The lieutenants are my most trusted guys, so I know they would never mouth off about it.

I continue, “The shit in the armory, the shit Conner told Eldritch about, gets moved into a truck so I can head out tomorrow with it. Then the stockpile weapons can get put back in the armory for when we attack.”

“Okay.” Simon nods.

“Gather the guys at sun up in the meeting room so we can discuss this shit with them. Get stuff moving along.”

The whole rest of the day goes fuckin’ quick. I get my guys all together and tell them about everything. They’re fuckin’ shocked at first when I tell them that we’d be handing over our entire fuckin’ armory, but when I said we still have plenty of guns off site, they fuckin’ settle. Besides, we’ll get all those fuckin’ guns back when we kill all those motherfuckers. Which is a point I fuckin’ stress. We are not giving up the fuckin’ fight. And my guys see that.

I send my lieutenants out to empty their outposts and bring back their stockpiles. I tell them to be fuckin’ discrete about it in case Eldritch is watching. I don’t think he fuckin’ is. Especially since my guys watching the tunnel said not many people have fuckin’ come in and out. I bet that motherfucker Eldritch is just sitting back fuckin’ congratulating himself on a job well fuckin’ done already. Seems the fuckin’ type to celebrate before he gets over the goddamn finish line.

I go over the plan with my guys about gutting up and placing explosives on the building and it goes over better than I thought it fuckin’ would. Sure, some guys speak up about how insane it fuckin’ is, but in the end, three guys volunteer to do it without fuckin’ prompting. One of them being José. I know he feels fuckin’ guilty about losing Chuck on his watch. And part of me want to blame him, but part of me knows it wasn’t really his fuckin’ fault.

I got Eugene working on remote detonators for our explosives. He’s even come all the way out here to fuckin’ do it. And he’s fuckin’ assuring me that those bombs’ll be completely safe to carry around until the damn button is pushed.

I work out all the details with my men, then go over the plan again and again until everyone knows exactly what’s gonna happen. This shit could go off tomorrow night if I get Chuck back at our meeting. If not, we’ll have more fuckin’ time to go over it.

Late that night, Jesus calls on the radio. He says that Gregory got there and moved right the fuck back in like nothing happened. The hill-folk are pissed about it, but they’re not fuckin’ raising a stink. They’re trying to act like shit’s normal, too.

I tell Jesus about my plan and he says he’d do anything to help. He’s fuckin’ eager to get past this shit. He says he doesn’t fuckin’ trust Gregory and I don’t fuckin’ blame him. Gregory won’t stand up to Eldritch. And I have no doubt in my mind that Eldritch would gut Hilltop, too, in the end.

But that’s not gonna fuckin’ happen. I’m gonna stop it. I save people and I keep them safe. I’m gonna stop Eldritch. And I’m gonna get Chuck back.

———   ———

 The blanket they provided Chuck is scratchy, but she has no choice but to use it. Despite wrapping it around her tightly, it barely kept her warm enough all night. And she’s still cold with it wrapped around her now, even though the sun is shining bright outside her window. It doesn’t help matters that the nightgown that she’s still wearing does nothing to keep the cool air away.

No one had provided her any other clothes, so she is still in the thin white satin nightgown that Eldritch had made her wear the night before. And she hates it. It makes her feel more in display here. Whenever one of Eldritch’s men looks in to check on her, his eyes seem to linger. It disgusts Chuck every time.

That’s the other reason she’s huddled in her scratchy blanket, sitting underneath the window. To cover herself from unwanted gazes.

The door opens and she turns away from whoever would be looking in on her. Just like every other time.

“Chuck?” that familiar voice that she never wants to hear almost whispers to her.

She turns her head to see Andy standing directly in front of her now closed door. Instantly, she stands and her heart starts to race. She remembers how angry Andy’s brother was the last time they were in here. If Andy held even half of that anger, Chuck has cause to worry about why he is standing before her.

He holds his hands up. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“What are you doing?” she asks hurriedly.

“I-I wanted to talk to you.”

She tightens the blanket around herself. “Why?”

Andy looks straight into her eyes. “I don’t hate you the way Conner does. Okay? I don’t blame you for what you did.”

Chuck looks away, ashamed a herself for her previous actions. “You don’t?”

“No.”

Chuck looks back up to him. “I’m sorry for what I did. It was wrong. And I should’ve apologized sooner. I really should’ve. But I was so embarrassed.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t need to apologize, Chuck. I was angry at first, but that was before I knew what you went through. Simon set me straight, though. I mouthed off about you at one of his poker games and he had me up against the wall by my neck in a split second. He told me what you went through before you came here. And that you had like a PTSD episode when you attacked me.”

Chuck lets out a breath. “It’s your voice,” she explains quietly. “It sounds like one of the guy’s... When I heard it... I just freaked out.”

“I’m sorry,” he says genuinely.

“It’s not your fault. You didn’t deserve what I did.”

“I’m fine.” He smiles at her. “Barely a scar.”

“Still...” She shrugs.

Andy continues. “I wasn’t angry after what Simon told me. And I tried to explain it to Conner, but he wouldn’t listen. He hated that Negan didn’t punish you more. He said that Negan was ‘forsaking his men for some pussy’.” Andy shakes his head. “Conner has been questioning Negan for a while. Then when he didn’t punish you... he just snapped.” He looks back up to Chuck. “But I don’t want to see you get hurt. You or the baby.”

“If you don’t agree with Conner, why are you here?”

“He’s is my only family. He practically raised me. I have to follow him.”

“You don’t, Andy. You can do your own thing.”

He stares at Chuck for a moment then starts to shake his head. “I have to follow him, Chuck. I’m sorry. But I have to.” He turns and leaves without another word.

Later that night, Eldritch comes to collect Chuck for dinner. Apparently this is the routine now. Eldritch would come to her room with a new dress which Chuck changes into, then they eat dinner.

So Chuck, dressed in her light pink dress, sits in her seat at the corner of the table as they are served their meal. Eldritch, wearing a tight cream colored henley and dark green pants, is at the head of the table. And he’s in a very good mood, his smile not fading since he collected her.

“How is the meal, Red?” he asks cheerfully partway through the meal.

“Very good,” she responds with barely any emotion as she pokes at the food with her fork.

He chuckles lowly. “You don’t seem to be enjoying it.”

“It’s very good,” she repeats.

His smile falls slightly and he runs his hand over his slicked back hair. “You’re not excited about tomorrow?”

She looks up, unsure of what she should say. If she says no, he may get angry. But she can’t force herself to say yes. She’s most certainly not excited about her people having to hand over their weapons to this man. And she knows that is what’s going to happen tomorrow.

“I expect an answer,” he says forcefully when she doesn’t give one.

“No,” she quietly replies.

He stares at her for a moment, his face now cold. “Come here.” He points his finger to the ground at his left.

Chuck pushes her chair out slowly and moves to stand beside the man. But he doesn’t say anything further. He just continues to eat slowly as Chuck stands awkwardly beside him. When he finishes his meal, he pushes his chair out and points to the floor directly in front of his spread legs.

Chuck is shaking as she obeys his silent order and steps closer to him. She’s afraid of what might happen next.

He stares up at her for a moment before he pats his right leg, signaling for her to sit on his lap.

She shakes her head and casts her eyes to the floor. “Please...”

Eldritch suddenly grabs her arm and pulls her into him to sit his right thigh. She tries to pull away, but his grip on her is much too strong. Both of his arms snake around her and pull her into his chest. Again, she still tries to push herself away from his contact, but can’t manage to separate herself from him.

“Stop,” he growls and squeezes her even more.

The pain of it takes the fight out of her. He could easily hurt her much more, or the baby if he so wanted, so Chuck stops struggling, though she continues to quietly whimper in fear.

Eldritch’s grip goes slack, but Chuck doesn’t dare to move. He finally pushes her to sit up and wrenches her face in his direction so she has no choice but to look at him.

“Do not disobey me ever again, Red,” he growls.

“I’m sorry,” she chokes out as tears stream down her face.

His expression suddenly lightens and he brings his hand up to wipe her cheeks softly. “Don’t be upset. Tomorrow will be an amazing day. And afterwards, nothing will be able to stop me. With Negan’s guns in my possession and my undead soldiers, I can rule this land the way it should be ruled. This is just the beginning.”

Chuck sniffles and lowers her head to wipe her nose.

Eldritch nudges her chin back up to look at him. “You should be happy, Red. All of this is because of you. I was wracking my brain for weeks thinking of a way to take down Negan. But then Conner and Andy told me about you. And this .” He puts his hand on her belly. “If Negan didn’t have this weak spot, he probably would be unstoppable. So thank you , Miss Charlotte,” he emphasizes the phrase just to get to her. “You have made everything I’ve done possible.”

Chuck stares back at him in shock. She had never really thought about it like that. And now that he’s put that in her mind, she is filled with guilt.

“Now, now,” he wipes her cheeks again, “let’s get you ready for bed.”

Once again, Chuck allows Eldritch to undress her in her room and put her nightgown on. The whole time, Chuck’s mind wanders to Negan.

  Is Negan alright? Does he blame me for all this? Does he even miss me?

I miss him so much. It’s only been a few days, but that’s longer than we’ve been separated for a while.

I love him more than anything. I just want to go home...

 Chuck is brought out of her thoughts when she realizes that Eldritch has leaned down close to her, one hand on the side of her neck and his other on her hip. She is terrified, but frozen in fear.

He places his lips close to her ear to whisper, “I’ll see you tomorrow for dinner.” His lips linger a moment before they move to kiss her cheek softly.

Chuck squeezes her eyes shut and doesn’t open them again until well after she hears Eldritch exit and the click of the lock on her door.

[portkcysa]

“a hand outstretched across the plane aisle, a constant warm presence, a smile so wide your face aches for days, bouncing a baby up and down on your knee, responsibility laden on your shoulders, bubblegum, a steady hand in all things.“ – ( richard madden, twenty-six, cismale, he/him. ) frank longbottom? yes, i have more information about them. the twenty-six year old pureblood used to attend hogwarts as a hufflepuff. nowadays, they’re an auror, and are currently a order of the phoenix member. from what i’ve heard, they can be quite observant and loyal, but also forgetful and strong-willed. from their records, i can also see that their best subject at school was transfiguration. ( ellie, 18, she/her, gmt. ) – CANON

you may cry, you may laugh, you may feel all things and let yourself breathe through them all, but that does not make you any less a man. your life is glorious, soft, not stern. warmth. enveloping.

quick facts

alignment: lawful good. amortentia: rose perfume on the air. the smell of alice’s shampoo. the yorkshire pudding his mum makes. green tea. baby smell. mbti: esfj. patronus: a labrador. boggart: losing alice. losing neville. soul type: the caregiver. wand: ebony. phoenix tail feather. 8 inches. described as supple, suited to combative magic and transfiguration. zodiac sign: leo. mythological figure: apollo. vice: pride. virtue: charity.

drifters

01. Frank’s never met his dad. He only, really, knows his name: Dominick Francis Longbottom. His mother rarely talked about him - he grew up, alone, with just her.

Dominick died before Frank was born. You see, Dominick was a very highly respected Auror, top of his field, known for his flair for excellent spellwork and a famed inability to sit still. He’d been out on assignment, integrating the group known as the Knights of Walpurgis, which is now known, more commonly, as the inner circle of the Death Eaters. He’d managed to pull it off for years, keeping his and his wife’s political positions to themselves, keeping out of the limelight when any purist-inclined violence made the headlines.

Augusta, of course, was less than pleased by the fact that he kept late hours, and woke up, some days, as early as 4 to head to the Aurors office. She was six months pregnant, in the end, when things went down the drain.

Dominick hadn’t even seen it coming.

One of the other Aurors - young, easily fooled, impressionable - had overheard one of his conversations with the Head Auror at the time. He’d been duped, you see. Duped into telling one of the people they’d been escorting to Azkaban if there were any weasels.

He’d seemed like a good guy, despite the crime he’d been imprisoned for, because he’d get years in Azkaban for it. (Nobody really gave a shit about trading useless Dragon eggs anyway.)

He’d been killed less than two days later.

He’d never even got to say goodbye - he’d been working for three days straight, and hadn’t even been to the Auror office in a week, but the damage was done and he never even saw it coming.

Augusta suspects it was Yaxley, but Frank’s never trusted Avery, nor the Lestrange’s, and he never was told how his dad was found. Just that his dad was dead before he was born, and that he looked like him. (The same jaw, the same smile, the same dark brown hair and grey streak.)

Frank visits the grave whenever he can, and talks to him as if he’s still there, still alive.

He tried, once, to get access to the files around his death. He didn’t get very far - Moody pulled him aside, hand on his elbow, to tell him there was no point - he knew, from experience, that all that it stirred up was rage. And Frank was better than that.

Frank wishes he’d gotten to meet his dad. He hopes that he’d be proud of him - that he’d be proud of the man he’s become. He knows his mum is, despite how she wheedles at him, and preens, and all the tough love she’s given him over the years. It’s always been just the two of them. The lone Longbottom’s, the ones who stranded themselves as far away from London as they could get without moving out of the country.

That was how they were known: the silent onlookers, the ones who rarely came out of their home but when they did, they sought justice in every way they could.

02. Frank wasn’t, exactly, surprised when he was sorted into Hufflepuff.

His magic had come through late - he supposes it’s nothing to do with how his mother raised him (an iron fist, that vulture hat outlasting the ages despite the sad fact that she was merely 32 and already a widow –) but entirely to do with how he viewed himself.

He’d never been a popular kid. He hadn’t got many friends, just the little boy that lived three villages over, the exact same age as he was, the one whose dad had up and left his mum.

He was shy, too honest, and considered a little weird - his mum didn’t send him to primary school, spoke with a proper accent where Frank had a burgeoning Scottish one, and he could do things the other kids couldn’t. He rarely played outside, and the little marbles he played with had once blown up in another kids’ face. Needless to say, that spelled a lonely childhood for Frank.

Frank didn’t mind, though. He had the horses, and the cows, and the chickens, and the dogs. His family may not have been big people-wise, but he had an affinity for animals, and plants, and if his mother hadn’t been sure he was a wizard, he would’ve ended up a farmer.

His first actual display of magic was when the tree in their garden collapsed over the road in and out of the village. It nearly crushed their next door neighbours and their tiny, yellow car, and before anybody could even figure out what they were going to do, it had completely vanished.

(Or, as Frank would tell his mother, “I made it burst, mam! It didn’t disappear! It exploded!”)

It wasn’t much of a surprise when Augusta smoothed his hair back and kissed him on the forehead, that rare grin climbing onto her face.

Pride, shining in her eyes.

03. Auror training was the bane of Frank’s life. All he wanted, all he ever wanted to do, all he could imagine himself doing, was being out there, saving lives.

Of course, his best friend jokingly reminded him that if he wanted to go out that fast, he should’ve just signed up for the Hit Wizard programme and taken the risk that he’d end up dead within a week (an unfortunate downside, occasionally, for new Hit Wizards and Witches.)

He knew he was talented enough. He knew that he was smart enough.

He knew he was good at thinking on his feet, he knew that they could use a man like him because he was loyal, pain-stakingly so, and he’d do anything for the cause, sacrifice or be anything they asked him to be.

There was already a target on his back, so why the hell not push him through training faster than the others.

(His last name was the target.)

They were running out of Aurors, as is. More and more kept leaving. They couldn’t do it, they said. They couldn’t live with the reality they were being faced with. They couldn’t risk their families lives like this, they couldn’t have a target painted on their back for the badge they held in their hands. They couldn’t face the threats that were slowly trickling in, the heat that was turning up and up and up.

Frank couldn’t blame them. They weren’t cowards. They were good people, who had suffered enough, who had gone through enough.

He was saddled with nothing, nothing that he felt was worth it. Worth the risk of losing lives. It wasn’t what he wanted. It wasn’t what they wanted. But he stuck it out, regardless. He gave himself goals to meet, Aurors to shadow, people to impress.

It made him a success. It made him good at his job.

(And good at the things he did on the side as well.)

04. He’s got the worst habit of attracting strays.

Okay, it’s not like that - not dogs, or cats, or anything. But people. The ones with nowhere left to go. The ones who are either not involved with their families, or those who have lost them.

He always has money on him. More money than he’ll ever need on a day to day basis, but enough to sustain someone for a month, or two. He’s always got his eye out. Always willing to give whatever he can, his money, his time, his effort. (He’s gotten himself into a spot or two, here and there.)

He’d do anything for his fellow Order members.

Anything. When they need help, Frank is always the one they know they can call. (Or, rather, just show up on his and Alice’s doorstep, because he’s known for crumbling at the sight of a friend in need.)

The Longbottom family have always had a lot of money. That’s not to mention his mother’s wealth in herself - she’s the last recorded Selwyn from the main male lineage (and she’s not related to that Umbridge woman, Merlin forbid –) and inherited the entire estate, as well as all the money they had invested in Borgin and Burke’s and several, very successful stores all along Diagon Alley (the least of which being Flourish and Blott’s.)

Some’d say it’s stupidity. That he’s so open, with things like that.

Others? They’d say he’s just too full of kindness. A tap, that overflows, consistently, until it seems like there’s going to be nothing left, but it’s bottomless. A bottomless well of kindness, fed into by a river of kindness, fed into by a sea of kindness.

He does what he can, for the people that he knows have nothing, not because he can relate. But because he just has to.

He can’t sit idly by while people are struggling. No matter the reason.

He’s too selfless. Too ready to give everything that he has. (Some part of him knows that it all stems from Augusta. From Dominick. From the love that he received, the love he never got to feel in anything other than photographs, and memories that never were.)

There’s always been a part of him that wants to prove his mother wrong. That softness can be just as good as sternness, and now he gets the chance to do just that.

constants

frank longbottom, in all things, is a ray of sunshine.

his softness, often taken for weakness, is one of his greatest strengths, over which he has laboured for many, many years.

he’s an only child. he supposes it means he’s always been spoiled, but he hasn’t.

he’s worked hard to get where he is, he hasn’t taken any handouts from his mother (who would never dream of giving him one anyway -) and there is a great sense of pride that he’s proved her wrong, about sternness being the only way to get things done.

(meanwhile, augusta is a part of the order, so - yes. there have been quite a few arguments over the order itself.)

he’s a lover of many things, including plants.

(also alice longbottom, but that’s a given, i mean, look at her --)

he’s worked so hard to become an auror, you guys. it’s been his dream, since childhood, since he learned about his father and his job, and despite his fate, pushed himself so, so hard to make his mother proud, and to feel the pride that he knows his father is feeling, where-ever he is, now.

really does enjoy his work. 

(it’s super dangerous, but, when isn’t something frank likes, dangerous? he’s insane, absolutely so, but also adorably so.)

born and raised in scotland, but also surrounded by muggles. so, not a magical neighbourhood. scotland is? still his home, really. hogwarts is, too, but that’s kind of secondary to the little cottage he and his mother lived in. where she still lives, actually, and insists that she’s never to be moved.

joined the order soon after graduation - he was approached by dumbledore, because he does have a particular skillset dumbledore finds particularly useful. 

can/does smuggle death eater related case files home with him. the good ruse is that he’s forgetful af, and so is prone to just forgettin stuff anyway (nev inherits this, his poor babe,) and he knows it’s dangerous, but there’s no law really inhibiting it... that’s his logic, anyway.

best friends with kingsley shacklebolt and hestia jones. grew up with them as brief companions, but spent hogwarts with them, as well as alice, and the four are tig HT.

was in the duelling club, but didn’t really? like the spotlight. aka evidence why he doesn’t want to be head auror, but he’s perfectly happy being just a member of the order and an auror, but is a very skilled dueller. incredible, really. don’t mess with the longbottom’s. he inherits it from his mother. 

excells in dark magic identification, tracking and transfiguration. there isn’t a spell frank hasn’t heard of, and if there is, it’s likely because it’s being tested in the department of mysteries, and therefore, cannot be discussed.

neville is... frank’s world. he refuses to leave him the same way his father left him. he refuses to do that. he refuses the possibility that he’ll die, and end up leaving a widow and a son behind. he plans to live a long, happy life, with his wife, and his son.

frank re: alice

his dream

will she ever let him breathe?

that moment when the dream girl is his WIFE

he -

is he living or not? he doesn’t know

she smiles like this and his heart aches

seeing her with neville is the greatest feeling in the universe

if they ever went abroad on holiday he’d lose his damn mind

is she teasing him???? he’s dying slowly

alice’s hufflepuff pride, man

imagine this as frank giving alice a flower i want to CRY

going anywhere with this  like 

HER GLASSES HE’S GOING INTO CARDIAC ARREST

ugh his heart

he’s compromised

taking her on a tour of where he went on childhood holidays

you know when you see someone so attractive you struggle to breathe? yeah frank knows the feeling

he’s in LOOOVE

"got you.”

everyone: frank, breathe

let him be happy with her for the rest of his life

her SMILE he’s combusting internally

will he ever let go? #no

them together is. his fave thing

her laUgH

the way he looks at her? legendary

[sassycabs]

Joker (2019)

Joker (2019): Straight White Male™ approaches the point (and then misses it entirely)

I’ll put a disclaimer right here that these were my thoughts right after the movie, after filtering and some research on the director. But other than that, all the “research” I did was watch Jenny Nicholson’s Youtube reaction video and that’s it. You should go watch that too.

There’s only 2 things I can say that’s good with this movie: (1) Joaquin Phoenix giving his all and (2) Kill The Rich. Let’s get it off the table, Joaquin Phoenix is bomb ass hot shit and he worked very hard in this movie and yes, if we’re jugding his method acting alone, and not the character, plot, or writing, it deserves the praise it’s getting. Now with that out of the way, wow, Joker is just plagued with droning writing, unimpressive directing, and an either missed or uncommitted political point. Oh, and so much dancing.

“Oh great, more dancing”

By the third time Arthur dances, I said out loud, “Who directed this movie? What are his other movies?” The answer is: Todd Phillips. He also co-wrote and co-produced the entire movie. Who is he? Well he directed all three Hangover movies. When was the last Friday night when you thought, “Oh, hey, I should re-watch The Hangover 2 tonight! You know, that one with the exact same plot and jokes as Hangover 1, but in a different country or something?” Other impressive movies in his IMDB resume include Starsky and Hutch and Due Date. So, from his previous work, we know his brand of movies isn’t really drama the way James Mangold could’ve been seen as candidate to direct Logan. There were so many scenes that could’ve been cut and the film would still make sense. We’re not here to watch some kind of Waiting For Godot and see the film make its point twice every time. This movie could have been 1 and a half hours long, with better writing and direction. The scenes drone on and on, either continuing after the point of the sequence is made or makes you wait for the point to be made. Just a quick but important example is the scene where Arthur practices his appearance in the (late night show), there’s probably a good minute that could have been cut and we would still understand “the plan”. Other quick mentions include the intro, Arthur’s first “beating”, the actual ending scene, and all the dancing, oh, god, all the dancing.

Now let’s get to those pointless intros and the ending that should’ve ended up as a bonus on the DVD. Why did we have to show Arthur putting on his make-up and crying? To find out that he’s not happy? That’s all the does and talks about throughout the movie, we don’t need this. Why do we need to have a close-up of Arthur telling some social worker that she doesn’t get “it” and then (presumably) kills her? To know that he’s crazy? We already know that, he just shot Murray. To try to mind blow the audience that maybe the entire movie was in Arthur’s head? Well, if that’s it, that just wasted the entire movie. There’s a lot of time wasted to re-tell points that are better established in other scenes.

Now, we have to address the dancing. Why is there so much dancing? Maybe it was for art, dramatic effect, or just a way to put markers on when Arthur is going crazy. But what would have been more dramatic, if we saw that when Arthur killed those three rich dudes, we was still shaken up. If we saw that he was scared and confused that he could do such a thing instead of outright accepting it, he could be more empathetic. The audience would think, “O, shit, he’s still human.” But from there, the story builds up with the other scenes showing Arthur’s “descent into madness.” And when he murders Frank, and the whole scene was maintained, if he was cool and nonchalant about it, then proceeds with the only dance sequence of the movie, that would have made it special. The audience would have thought, “O shit, he lost it.” All the dancing during the moments of madness take away the descent to it. As an origin story for a villain, we don’t start with a crazy person. It’s supposed to be a process, if it wasn’t, then DC and Todd Phillips should’ve just given us “A Day In The Life Of The Joker: The Movie.” Spiderman: Homecoming did a better job at introducing Vulture and it was an origin story for Spiderman. A dance, a flooding with music, and the police chasing Arthur with Arthur totally not afraid of them, that would have been chilling, inhuman, and detached.

“I'm not political, I just want to make people laugh.”

Well he got that right. For saying something as bold as “Kill The Rich,” the movie doesn’t fully commit to that statement. The Joker is just a dude who wants to toy with Batman, so yeah, he’s pretty apolitical. But there are better ways of having a non-political character with selfish interests inspire political outrages. Katniss Everdeen (yes, it’s 1:06 AM and she’s the only one I can think of right now) just didn’t want her sister to die but she ended up the face of District 13 propaganda. To say “Kill The Rich” means to, at least at some level, examine why we should and how the rich ended up where they are and Arthur and people like him ended up where they are; but Joker did none of that. For all the talk about “the system,” all we get is Thomas Wayne calling the people of Gotham “clowns” (which is furthest from the worst a politician running for any office position could do); a poor, broke, delusional Penny Fleck (and hey, if you were Thomas Wayne would you have handle that situation better?) and some throwaway lines about how “the rich are bad.” Well, hell yeah, the rich are bad, but there is an assumption that the audience knows the political nuances of class struggle so that the film doesn’t have to commit to it fully. Why are they, in this instance, in Gotham, for Arthur, bad? In most instances that Arthur was abused, it was always the people around him in the same situation. Never do we see on screen how the rich people are “bad” because the movie frames everyone except Arthur as, pretty much, bad. Arthur didn’t know who those guys in the train were, they were just some guys in suits. Additionally, his motivation of murdering them was because they were assholes to him, not because he knew that they had money and he didn’t. But then afterwards Arthur tells his fake girlfriend that he thinks the murderer is a hero, with the pre-empting thought to be “fuck those rich guys.” The whole conversation was in his head, so does he or does he not think that rich people deserve to die? Scott Silver and Todd Phillips were approaching the point, especially with the Late Night Show sequence. But it feels like there’s a disconnect between Arthur talking about how “nobody is civil anymore” because he was abused and the people just accepting that some clown who murdered three rich guys will be the face of their revolution against the rich. The connection can easily be made, you can make it in your head, but there was just a lot more dancing and laughing happening instead of showing how people the people of Gotham got to that conclusion.

This movie could have gotten two points across: “this is how the joker was made” and “this is how the jokers are made”. Because that’s the point of the Joker right? Anyone can become a Joker aka “All it takes is one bad day to reduce the sanest man alive to lunacy. That's how far the world is from where I am. Just one bad day.” They ticked one off the list, but everything else was a reach to get to something political or some kind of social commentary, but just ended up with a bad taste in my mouth and I hope I’m not the only one.

[warlockcd-blog]

let’s agree that Arrow’s season 2 was good, villain-wise and plot-wise for the most part. we had Slade Wilson and Sebastian Blood, who were very different and both really interesting because of that fact. we were properly introduced to the League of Assassins for the first time, Nyssa made her first appearance and we got to see a bisexual Lance woman. 

but it was a terrible season for women. from Shado and Moira Queen dying for Oliver’s man pain, as well as Slade’s, to Laurel’s descent to hell, to Thea being betrayed and lied to by everyone to Felicity becoming Oliver’s new love interest, to Helena Bertinelli being once again reduced to the “psycho ex-girlfriend” and heartless murderer that she wasn’t in the comics. but very clearly, Laurel is the one who had it the worst — don’t try to contradict me on that, i’ve got receipts and this what this post is all about. 

i rewatched season 2 for my characterization of Laurel and because there were quite a few things that i had forgotten about her development during that season, and i decided to write down all the bullshit Laurel was put through. the bad things that happened as well as the crazy things she has herself done ( but Laurel doing crazy things is one of the most Dinah Lance things ever, so it mostly is a ‘suck it, Fefe stans, Laurel’s always been a badass who lives in danger and strives in darkness ).

having to deal with the loss of Tommy all on her own, without Oliver ( one of the very few friends she has ) to help her grieve

the City Hall under attack during a ceremony she attended

she watched the Mayor get shot and die by ‘the Hoods’

 disarmed one of the men and knocked him out ( wearing a dress and high heels, bravo )

was then held at gun point ( only the first time of the season )

tried to get the Hood — a man she used to trust and believed to be a hero until she saw him in the building where Tommy died — because Tommy died

used herself as bait but the attempted arrest was interrupted by a blonde in leather. shots were fired, her work place was partially destroyed in the process

“[...] dodging bullets twice in three weeks”

Quentin confronted her about the Hood’s arrest being a personal vendetta after she tried to call him out on his own vendetta with the Doll Maker ( one of the things that led him to heavy drinking )

her father getting arrested for obstruction regarding the Doll Maker case after he escaped from Iron Heights because of the Undertaking

got kidnapped by the Doll Maker ( serial killer who ruined her father’s career ) because he wanted to get revenge on Quentin

had a tube forced in her throat ( with the purpose of drowning her with polymer ) and was saved just in time by the Hood

went from blaming the Hood for not saving Tommy to blaming herself for his death because Tommy was in the building that collapsed to save her

started to drink pretty heavily

got pulled over after a date with Adam Donner ( her boss )

“I’m the best me when I’m working.” “You wouldn’t want to meet her [ herself outside of work ], she’s not good company.” — Laurel to Adam during dinner

was confronted by her father ( who was called by the officer who pulled her over, like she is a child ) about her potential drinking problem — a fight ensued

denied her problem with alcohol and started taking pills

quite drunkenly got confused over Oliver walking her back home, got rejected

“I got the message. I get it loud and clear every day. Run. Run. Run away from Laurel. Run as fast as you can.” “What is so wrong with me that everybody [ Oliver, Sara, her father, her mother, Tommy ] leaves?”

worked a case against Moira Queen ( a woman she had known most of her life )— against Oliver and Thea, her friends, knowing that Moira could get sentenced to death for the Undertaking

was kept in the dark about Adam’s secret card to win the trial ( despite the fact they were working together )

under peculiar circumstances ( Adam being poisoned ), was forced to act as prosecutor instead of Adam. “Everything is at stake for you and I don’t want to be the one to take it all away.” — Laurel to Moira

barely present at least in episode 08 and 09 ( there were a few more episodes later on, but this in in chronological order )

got close to Sebastian Blood despite the fact that she thought he was dangerous ( and a killer ), purposely endangering herself to get information to discredit him

went as far as going to a mental institution so she could talk to Blood’s “aunt” ( who really is his mother who witnessed him killing his father and called Blood the devil )

went to the DA’s office to talk to Adam about Blood without any proof, a move that put her career at risk

broke into government property with the help of the Arrow to steal the proof that she needed

got shot at ( again )

got nothing because the file on Blood was empty

her apartment was searched and Laurel was arrested because of non-prescription drugs ( that she took from her father )

“You can’t pit it on Sebastian Blood.” — a very disappointed Quentin Lance who then left Laurel at the precinct   

kidnapped in her own apartment right after she got arrested, was trapped in a disaffected factory, was pushed around and thrown to the ground when the Arrow intervened

repeatedly shot the man wearing the Skull Mask and killed him

man who was not Sebastian Blood like she would have bet her whole career on

right after the incident, was brought to the precinct and it was there that Adam Donner confronted her about her substance abuse problem

he told her she couldn’t work at the DA’s office anymore

Quentin tried to trick her into going to an AA meeting by pretending he was treating her to dinner

he tried to make her understand that she needed to attend the meeting, that she needed help

when Laurel said that she thought nobody at the meeting would understand what she was going through, is answer was basically “people are going through the exact same thing and they have it worse than you, get your shit together”

convinced that her old friend ( Joanna from s1 ) would help her get a job at the firm where she works but was instead told that she was going to get disbarred because her conduct could affect her ability to work

went to Verdant and drunkenly trashed everyone, especially Thea, jabbed at Oliver and his partnership with Felicity, 

fell on the floor passed out when she got home, thought she saw Sara ( her “dead” sister ) ( who she actually really saw and did not hallucinate )

passed out not because of an overdose ( unlike what was first believed by literally everyone ) but because she was poisoned by a member of the League of Assassins

her mother was kidnapped by Nyssa while Laurel was still at the hospital

“Laurel’s inside, shes losing her mind.” — Quentin about Laurel

found out that her sister didn’t died during the ship wreck and that she was very much alive and back in her life after six years

“You stole my life away from me.” — drunk Laurel to Sara just before she threw a glass at the door ( drunk Laurel has a really good aim tho 

decided to organize a family dinner at her apartment to make amends and try to make things better ( especially between her parents )

Sara invited Oliver without permission

Laurel realized that her parents would never ever get back together even though she had briefly hoped they would ( and was extremely happy and excited about it )

found out that Sara and Oliver are together

fled her own apartment because she couldn’t take it anymore, Oliver followed after her, Laurel blamed him for things going badly

“And is you losing your job, doing drugs and being a drunk my fault? Is that your family’s fault? Or are you gonna blame Tommy for dying?” — congrats on victim-blaming Oliver

“Why don’t you have a drink? Get wasted. Go to Verdant. I’ll pay for it.” — Oliver doing the equivalent of Quentin pushing a bottle in Laurel’s hand in s3

“And so, when I saw you... so beautiful and so alive... I realized that I’m not those things. Not anymore.” — gorgeous Laurel apologizing to Sara ( followed by almost begging her not to hate her )

two AA meetings a day

offered back a place at the DA’s office as the prosecutor on the Frank Bertinelli trial — trial which was a sham and a trap to get Helena Bertinelli to Starling so they could arrest her

caught in a hostage situation by Helena Bertinelli

almost threw out thirty days of sobriety and called herself expendable decoration ( the woman in black, aka Sara, is the one who told her to be strong and prove her sister, aka Sara, that she was strong )

honest with Helena about Tommy’s death and her addictions with the hope to stop Helena from killing people

“Once you let the darkness inside, it never comes out.”

was held at gun point by Helena and was once again caught between the vigilantes and the police shootings

blackmailed the DA so she could get her job back

learned through Slade Wilson that Oliver ( formerly the love of her life and best friend ) is the Arrow

her father was arrested and sent to jail because of his work with the Arrow

blackmailed the DA ( again ) to get her father out of jail after he was beaten up there, and got him back on the job

loss of a close family friend ( Moira Queen )

faced with Oliver wanting to offer himself up and die to save her and the ones he loves

which happened after she discovered that she had been right about Sebastian Blood from the beginning, meaning that she lost her job for basically nothing

almost got killed by one of Slade’s Mirakura soldier after she hit him with a pipe to save Oliver

was separated from Oliver and trapped in a collapsed tunnel after Oliver shot an explosive arrow so the debris would stop Slade’s soldier

had to shoot an explosive arrow to save her own life despite having never in her life learned archery ( knowing that messing up could have killed her )

was knocked out at the precinct by Nyssa

was kidnapped by one of Slade’s soldiers right after getting back to consciousness because Slade had beef with Oliver

heavily implied that if Slade hadn’t mentioned also having Felicity, Oliver wouldn’t have “played Slade’s game” and would have left Laurel to him

held at gun point ( again )

had to say goodbye to Sara, who was going back to Nanda Parbat with Nyssa ( Sara giving her jacket to Laurel being their second to last interaction before Sara gets killed in s3 )

her father nearly dying in her arms because of internal bleeding caused by one of Slade’s soldier ( the one who kidnapped her )

[itispossibleihaveissues]

This Night Chapter 7

TITLE: This Night AUTHOR: Mikimoo RECIPIENT: tristen84 PAIRING: JayDick RATING: Mature

WARNINGS: Off screen Non-Con, murder of innocent young people, violence

SUMMARY: The Red Hood and Officer Grayson are on the same case. A small misstep has far reaching consequences for them both.

Thank you to burkesl17 for the beta!

Chapter 1, 2 3 4 5 6

“No!” Jason said, as firmly as he could without yelling. He waved Dick's discharge papers at him for emphasis. “You're not going back there, you are going the fuck home to recover!”

“I can't leave this unfinished, Jason!” Dick had his most obstinate face on, and was using Jason's full name which always meant trouble.

“You're on leave, dammit. You'll be met at the airport for a full debrief with the FBI agents taking over the case, and then you will be flown back to the Haven or Gotham where you will be further debriefed and put on leave until you are fully recovered!” So maybe Jason was not doing so great at the not yelling.

“Fine,” Dick said, the jut of his jaw hadn't lessened even a fraction and the stubborn anger in his gaze was still going at full throttle.

“That doesn't mean you can come back as Nightwing either, Dick.” Jason growled, he could already see he was going to have to stake out the bullheaded jackasses apartment to prevent it. “If you even think about it, I'll tell Bruce you're not fit.” He waved a hand as betrayal flooded Dick's face. “Not the specifics, but enough that he'll bench you.”

“You think he can? I'm a grown man, I work with him now, not for him.”

“Do you? Do you really, Dick? If he says jump you'll jump and we both know it.”

Dick huffed loudly, like a surly teenager. “You know me so well, Jason?”

“Stop being such an ass about this, give yourself a break.”  

Dick looked like he was gearing up to really let rip, and Jason didn't honestly think he could handle it, so he made an effort to rein in his own temper. “Look, Just take a bit of time, then we will go in together, okay? I'll even play by your rules.” And he would. Mostly because he suspected Wilson was going to be pretty damn thorough with wiping out the Santa Prisca portion of  ZK12. That left the American and European parts – Jason was planning to have a hand in some of that take down, he just had to bide his time.

Dick rubbed his hands over his face then looked at Jason with slightly wild eyes. “I can't sit around and do nothing, Jay. I can't, I'll lose it.” He ran a hand back through his hair, tugging on it sharply. He was acting like a caged animal.

“I'm not saying don't do anything useful, Dick. I'm just saying that heading back to the Santa Prisca strong-hold is not going to be productive – if we send someone there it shouldn't be us, not now at least.”

“Why? We're the best qualified,” Dick insisted.

Jason took a calming breath. He wanted to go too, but he didn't want Dick to go. That meant he had to play a little dirty. “We're too emotionally involved, we nearly died.”

“Nearly dying is basically every other day for us, so don't give me that bullshit.”

“Yeah, it is, but what happened to you terrified me!” Jason burst out, unable to contain himself. “I thought you were dead multiple times and I don't want to fucking deal with it yet, okay? I know if I go, I won’t be fully on the ball and I am not going to give those fuckers the satisfaction of getting one over on me again!” He took a calming breath. “When I go after ZK12, I'm going to be prepared and I'm going to get them all.”

Dick looked guilty now, which wasn't want Jason had been aiming for with his sudden honesty. This whole conversation was exhausting him. “Dick,  just take a step back, what if our positions were reversed? What if, God forbid, it was Roy or Cassandra or Tim who had just been through what you have? How would you feel about them going back?”

“I would be afraid,” Dick admitted, after a moment clearly battling with himself. “I'd suggest they sat out until they were recovered.”

“Right. And then you would hare off and do it yourself. I get that. But I'm not asking you to stop trying to bring these fucks down, just leave the fighting part to others until you are back to full functionality. There is a shit ton of research to do – we need to get the entire organization, and we know very little about their operations in Europe. Let's do this smart, okay?”

Amazingly, Dick nodded and hobbled forward to snatch the discharge forms out of Jason's grip. “Since when did you get all sensible and shit?” he asked, signing the papers with a slightly shaky hand.

Jason was even more sure he was doing the right thing by preventing Dick from throwing himself back into this particular fight. He was still sick and emotionally wounded, getting him to take care of himself was going to be a challenge and Jason suspected it was going to be up to him. Whoopee.

“I've always been sensible, you people are the ones with dust for brains,” Jason said with a dismissive sniff.

“Oh, don't give me that, little brother,  I can list a bunch of times you've been an idiot or just gone completely loco. I mean, the whole Murder!Batman shtick was pretty bonkers, and that one time you blew a hole in the GCPD to get at a guy in the lock up, then murdered him in front of the damn cops.”

“I'll give you the times when I was actually out of my mind, big deal. And that guy abused four children that we know of so he deserved it. Other than those very specific occasions, I've been very sensible.”

“You set fire to a nun,” Dick said, smugly, as he took off towards the door with a wobbly gait.

Jason followed behind him, waving his arms in indignation. “I did not!” he said, hotly. “I set fire to some textbooks, the nun was accidental collateral damage, and it was just her habit that got a bit singed – no real harm done.”

“That makes it okay then.”

“Well, they never sent me back to that group home that's for sure,” Jason grumbled.  “How did you even find out about that?” It must have been from Bruce, the fucking traitor, although saying that – Bruce had been pretty forthcoming about the trouble Dick had gotten himself into during his years at the manor – the list of unfortunate incidents had been surprisingly expansive. He grinned.  “If it's a competition between us, I can remind you of a fair few occasions where you have my indiscretions beat.”

“Like what?” Dick handed over his papers at the front desk and leaned heavily on the wall, trying to pretend he wasn't exhausted from the short walk.

That didn't mean Jason was going to take pity on him. “When you were fifteen, you and Roy got drunk at a Wayne Charity Gala, and you pissed off a balcony and onto the guests having a smoke round back.”

“That was Roy's fault!” Dick had gone a very fetching shade of pink.

“As I heard it, from Bruce, you knew exactly what you were doing. You managed to get a direct hit on Mr. Slate, the man responsible for signing the papers that had given the CPS permission to take you away from the circus and then for placing you in Juvie instead of  proper foster care. So, tell me again how it was an accident?”

Dick looked sheepish, “I was was angry and drunk enough I probably would have done worse if Roy hadn't talked me down.”

“Harper being the voice of reason? Wonders will never cease.”

“Sort of reason, I did still piss on a bunch of people.”

“Sounds like something I would have done, to be honest,” Jason didn't bother to hide his admiration.

“You didn't have the monopoly on teenage angst and problems with rage, Jason. I was just lucky enough to survive mine.” Dick winced at his own words and a frown began to form on his face again.

Jason wanted to reach out to him. He wished he had known that younger Dick, really known him rather than what passed for their relationship a few years later. They probably would have burnt the manor to cinders or razed the city to the ground, but it would have been cathartic - misery loved company after all.

“Well,” he said, ignoring the shadowed look on Dick's face. “Your worst offence by far was when you crashed Bruce's 1954 Bentley when you were twelve and he grounded you for life. You should still be grounded.”

“I thought because it was old he wouldn't miss it as much!”

“A classic Bentley, Dick, practically vintage! And you murdered it, that's sacrilege in car terms.”

“Who did Grayson murder?” Ruiz joined them, still bruised but looking much better than the last time they had seen her.

“Bruce Wayne's car, a beautiful, beautiful car,” Jason told her as Dick stepped forward to give her a tight hug.

“Don't be such a sap, Grayson,” Ruiz said, her eyes suspiciously bright. “We have a long road ahead of us.”

“Yeah. What are you going to do? You can't return to work while this is on going, it's too dangerous.” Dick told her, repeating the exact thing Jason had just spent forty minutes arguing with him about. The man was clearly born to drive him crazy.

“I don't know,” she admitted. “My family have gone to stay with my mother, so they are safe for the moment. I can't allow them to be at risk, but I don't want to give up this fight either. My superiors want me in witness protection, but we don't know if even that is going to be safe, they have people in the force.”

“I know,” Dick said, unhappily. “Look, maybe I can pull some strings, get you out the country for a few months. Both the FBI and Interpol have an interest in this case and keeping you alive to testify is going to be crucial for them.”

“And how will you do that, Grayson?” Ruiz asked, sharply.

“Bruce Wayne has a lot of influence and a lot of cash. And he is going to be grateful you rescued his son,” Jason told her.

“Which son?” she shot back and Dick's eyebrows climbed so high they disappeared under the ridiculous fall of his hair.

“What's this?” he asked.

“I told some bad guys I was Bruce's illegitimate son in order to stop them shooting me.” Jason shrugged “I'm not, by the way,” he told Ruiz.

“Hmm,” Ruiz said, clearly unconvinced. “You're something to him though, and to each other. You don't risk the things you risked just for an acquaintance.”

“He would,” Jason jerked a thumb at Dick, who scoffed at him and made a face.

“So would you, you  hadn't even met Ruiz and you helped me go back for her. At least I have the excuse that it's my job.”

“It's mine too, In a manner of speaking.”

“You're both idiots, is what you’re telling me?” Ruiz said, with a wry grin.

“Basically,” Dick agreed with an easy smile that was mostly real.

“And you both know each other from Bludhaven?”

“You are a relentless woman,” Jason sighed. “Yes, we know each other, have done for awhile – I guess you could say I'm a PI, like Dick said, so our paths have crossed professionally. But we also know each other via-” he scrunched up his nose trying to think of a good description. “Mutual family,” he finished at last.

Ruiz looked perplexed. “Okay, I'm not sure if that makes sense or not, but I’ll take what I'm given, for now.”

They headed towards the hospital entrance, where men in suits were waiting to take them to the airport. Jason really hoped the cover identity he and Dick had cobbled together for him held up under scrutiny. The internet connection had not been the best, or the most secure. Luckily they had access to some emergency pre-prepared electronic paperwork, provided for all of them by Alfred and Babs, to use when caught on the fly. Hopefully it was good enough to at least get them back to American soil.

 They landed back in Gotham International at mid morning a few days later. All the debriefing had been grueling, but their story had held up. Neither they nor Ruiz had spoken much about the torture, just about the drugs and vague descriptions of beatings. They had agreed to keep Wilson's name out of it, just described him as some sort of private contractor fighting against the cartel who had helped them in the hopes of gaining information and cash. The story overall had been a little shaky, and there were some agents who clearly knew they were leaving stuff out, but the three of them held firm and stuck to their story.

Now it was time to go home and start recovering a little. That and put things into motion to get Ruiz to safety. She had balked at coming to America, but Jason figured they could negotiate with her to stay for a few months, or go somewhere else – Mexico or South America perhaps. Either way, they would make sure they had people to keep an eye on her wherever she ended up.

They stepped off the small private plane that had been provided for them to find Alfred waiting by one of Bruce's big grey cars, the winter sunlight hitting the bonnet like fireworks. Jason was torn between relief at being home and trepidation of having to face his family, even if it was just Alf.

He hesitated, he didn't want to keep his feet moving towards the car. either did Dick it seemed, he was tense and practically vibrating with anxiety as their boots hit the tarmac. And Jason couldn't leave him.

His warped sense of guilt and his over-protective instincts were going to fuck him up. But there was no way around it that he could see. His need to be there for Dick in some undefined way was going to take him right back into the jaws of his past, which was the last place he wanted to be after the few weeks they had just had.

“Hey, Alf,” Dick said, with a tight and unconvincing grin. “Thanks for picking us up.”

It was clear the fake cheer wasn't missed, as Alfred nodded a greeting. “Master Dick, I'm glad to see you home in one piece. Master Jason, a rare pleasure.”

Jason flushed and raised a hand in a half-hearted wave. He had not been prepared for this, he should have been. But he wasn't.

If he thought that was bad, sliding into the warm interior of the car and coming face to face with Bruce was like a nightmare come to life. For years he had dreamed of bumping into him while in his underwear or other awkward situations. This was way, way worse.

He froze, staring at Bruce's impassive face. Dick followed him into the car, still exchanging platitudes with Alfred. He had clearly expected Jason to have moved further inside and sat practically on his lap, making them both jump in surprise. Dick tumbled back out onto the tarmac.  Jason remained where he was, eyes no doubt comically wide.

Bruce looked utterly mystified, or at least there was a confused furrow in his brow which conveyed as much.

“Dick?” he asked, “are you alright?”

The deep rumble of his voice, so totally different from Wilson's smug tones, made feeling crash into Jason like high tide against the rocks. He was usually so much more fortified for any meetings with Bruce – but now he was so raw from everything that had happened, he felt like just being in the man's presence could break him apart.

Dick's head appeared in the doorway, he was slightly pink from embarrassment. “Hey, Bruce,” He said, not meeting his eyes – always a fatal mistake. Instead he looked at Jason “What the hell, Jay? Move up.”

Jason moved. Which left him facing Bruce in the broad interior of the car. He wished it was Batman there to greet them instead. He knew how he felt about Batman, wasn't so conflicted and full of doubt.

Dick slid in beside him and shut the door, taking a moment to fiddle with his seat belt, perhaps attempting to collect himself, as Jason was also desperately trying to do. He hadn't expected this either.

Bruce was impassive, but he was watching Dick carefully. He may not be showing anything on his face, but he was clearly cataloging Dick's slightly odd behavior.  Jason in turn, watched him for any sign he was going to do anything to upset Dick. Bruce often struggled to express his concern in a helpful or constructive way, and instead went for bluntness, irritation or flinty silence. Jason was aware that in this, he and the old man were very much alike, and he hated it.

“To what do we owe this honor?” Jason said into the awkward pause, forcing the words out and trying his level best to keep his voice nice and even.

“You fell off the grid for a week. First Dick takes off for work,” said with a surprising edge of scorn, "then I get the BPD knocking at my door saying he has been kidnapped, and to wait on a ransom that never came. I was concerned, ZK12 rarely return kidnap victims in good shape.” He didn't sound concerned, he sounded like he was placing an order in the World’s most mediocre restaurant. A clear sign he had probably been climbing the walls with worry.  

“Why didn't you come rescue him then?” Jason snapped in spite of himself.

“Because I discovered you had also gone to Santa Prisca, and I decided the two of you together could probably take care of things, or at least let me know if that wasn't the case. At the time I believed no news was good news and you were both undercover. Was I wrong?”

And wow, to be giving that kind of trust, even in such a backhanded way, was so huge, so intense that Jason wouldn't know what to do with it on a good day. This however was not a good day. He had completely and utterly failed to do anything Bruce had put his faith in him doing.

He was surprised to find there were still new ways to feel completely crushed.

He sat mute and wide eyed staring at Bruce with his mouth slightly open, like a landed fish. What the fuck could he say? Could he say anything without having a complete emotional meltdown? He honestly wasn't sure.

“No, you weren't wrong,” Dick said, his voice was thick, and he cleared his throat loudly. “I was careless and got caught, Jason rescued me. If he hadn't I might never have got out. They used a drug on me I'm unfamiliar with. We did have a look at the properties of it – Jason ran tests in the field to prevent side effects when he gave me antibiotics. We have all the data, if we run it through the computer in the cave I bet we can find trace hits in that people trafficking case from Gotham North last month – I wager that's what they were hitting the victims with and it wouldn't have shown up in any of the regular tests.”

And with that, Bruce allowed himself to be distracted. But Jason suspected it was only superficial, he was still watching them both very carefully. Dick was now making a good show of acting normal, but it had been a shaky enough start that Bruce was clearly suspicious. And Jason was acting far from normal too despite his best efforts, he was usually so full of piss and vinegar whenever they had contact that his silence was probably an even bigger warning sign than Dick's awkwardness. At least Dick could pass his off at embarrassment for his 'stupidity' in getting caught.

Taking the blame for what had happened was such a typical Dick thing. A month ago Jason would have sneered at it, mocked and berated him for his dumb-ass martyr complex. But now, he was covering for Jason's mistakes and not only that, he was blatantly forgiving them.

It was intolerable.

Suddenly Jason's skin felt itchy, like there were insects made of doubt and shame crawling all over him. He couldn't breathe in the damn car, he had to get out.

As they drew towards the intersection at 23rd and 12th Jason unbuckled his belt. Dick shot him a wide eyed glance, but before he could say anything, they stopped at the lights and Jason threw open the door, practically falling onto the sidewalk in his haste to escape. He heard Dick calling his name but he ignored it and took off as fast as his throbbing ankle could carry him.

He was running on instinct, down familiar alleys and side streets, vaulting the fence at old Martins place and twisting through the doorway of the abandoned grocery shop on the corner. When he finally came to a halt, close to one of his shabbier safe houses, all he could do was sink to the floor and try to breathe. He honestly couldn't deal with this, with any of it.

Fuck, Dick was taking things better than him. He needed a drink, but failing that, he needed to hit the streets and beat the fear and confusion out of himself.

 Evening found him pacing his safe house like a trapped beast. He was feeling terrible for abandoning Dick, and for the questions he had probably had to field on Jason's behalf. But the prospect of having to go to the manor to see him was not bearable, and unnecessary anyway. If he was there then he was safe and someone would be making sure he was looking after himself, but what was the probability of that actually being the case? It was far more likely he had gone home to Bludhaven like the annoying self sacrificing prick he was. And that meant that at best he would be moping and at worst, Nightwing would be preparing to hit the streets in an hour or so. And that was a recipe for disaster.

“Fuck!” Jason chucked his half empty can of beer in the direction of the sink. It wasn't helping anyway, and any more and he wouldn't be able to suit up and hit the roof tops, let alone drive to the Haven. Which appeared to be what he was doing, judging by the fact he was already out of the door, keys to his bike in his hand.

He justified it to himself as he drove, if Dick was there, he would need watching because he was a moron. If he wasn't in the Haven, then his patch was undefended and Jason would be more use there than Gotham, which tended to be rather saturated with vigilantes these days.

It was a completely logical course of action.

He decided to scope out Dick's shitty apartment from the roof of the chicken shop across the way rather than knock on the door. Most of the apartment seemed dark, except for the hallway and bathroom lights. He was fairly sure even Dick would have remembered to switch his lights off before going away on a long term mission. Probably.

He would just wait for a bit, and then head out, that way he could cover all his bases. Jason flipped out his binoculars and settled back to watch.

“Papa Bat teach you those manners? Spying is pretty invasive, you know,” Dick said, from somewhere behind him, making Jason  jump and cuss colorfully before spinning round to face him.

Dick was dressed in ratty sneakers, leggings and a big warm sweater. He looked like he belonged on the rooftop as much as Nightwing did, like he owned it. But he also looked like a slob, and leggings? Really?  Jason was surprised at the rush of warmth that overtook the embarrassment at having been caught stalking him.

“The fuck you wearing, Dick?” he asked, with as much of a sneer as he could put in his voice.

Dick looked down at himself. “What these? Running tights. They're warmer than slacks or sweats and  better for clambering on rooftops.”

“Uh huh.”

“Whatever, at least I'm not hanging around on freezing cold buildings and spying on people.”  

“How'd you know?” Jason asked.

Dick's lips twitched. “Lucky guess. Although if I'm honest, this is the second spot I checked.” He shrugged. “I figured you might want to check up on me, you've been bizarrely attentive since we got to the hospital.”

“Yeah, well,” Jason said, pointlessly. It was unnerving that he had been so transparent, even more so that he hadn't really noticed himself doing it. But he supposed all the hand holding and sappy shit had been a bit out of character.

“I have food inside, enough for two.” Dick pushed off the building he was leaning against and started towards the fire escape.

Jason was slightly perturbed he had apparently been such a sure thing Dick had even planned to feed him. He got up stiffly and followed. “You didn't cook it though, right?” He asked as he swung down after Dick, who was scaling down the building effortlessly, despite his bad leg. “I've heard tales of your cooking, none were complimentary.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dick said, “those stories have been greatly exaggerated. I'll have you know I'm a wizard with the microwave these days.”

Food was actually spaghetti bolognese, and although the sauce was mostly from a bottle, it was a  satisfying meal with the addition of mince and some frozen veg. The silence while they ate was companionable, and Jason felt at ease for the first time in far too long.

After dinner, Dick shoved the dishes into the sink and waved off Jason's offer to clean them, instead he ushered him through to the living room and sat on the big comfy chair, dislodging a small pile of dirty laundry and take-out menus.

Jason chose the sofa, which was relatively free of debris, he did find one of Dick's escrima sticks wedged behind the cushion, but that was the only offensive item. Dick flicked the TV on wordlessly, hunting thought he channels with a quiet determination. It was clear he didn't want to talk and Jason decided to give him his space.

“What horrifying show are you going to subject me to?”  he asked, as Dick failed to settle on a channel.

Dick looked relieved, like he had been expecting Jason to insist on talking about things. Like he would.

“Dunno,” he said, “maybe this documentary about mermaids?”

“Why the fuck would I want to watch that?”

“Because mermaids, Jason. Who doesn't love mermaids?”

Jason hid a grin and leaned back in his seat, shoving aside a stack of messy note pads with his socked foot so he could rest it on the small coffee table. Dick didn't seem to care about the abuse of his furniture and swung his own legs over the arm of the chair. Curling into his ridiculous sweater and twitching his feet like he couldn't keep still.

It occurred to Jason that although Dick had made a good argument for the leggings, the true reason for his choice of attire might be a little more complicated. They were the closest thing to his Nightwing suit in terms of strong figure hugging material he could possibly get away with. The suit was more than just a costume, it was wrapped up with so much self. A shield, a comfort, it represented strength and safety.

It was the same reason Jason was wearing his old battered body armor under his shirt.

Both of them were still struggling to deal with all that had happened and all that was to come, and Jason was genuinely concerned about what lay ahead for Dick, who followed in the family footsteps and tended to deal with the bad shit by ignoring it or self flagellating.

It was going to be a hard road, but right now there was a scene of calm, and Jason found himself enjoying the easy silence as Dick sniggered at the TV and jiggled his legs around annoyingly.

There would be time to deal with the crap tomorrow, or the next day. For now he was just glad they were both home safe.

----

And that's it for now! (sequels, prequels etc are in the works.)

Thank you for your patience, tristen84, I hope you enjoyed it! (only 4 months late this time!)

And thank you all for reading and for all the wonderful comments and kudos!