#and (most likely) escaped and flew all the way to AMERICA not long after

[mushyfart]

when your trying to live your life as a plagerist but a recently escaped psych ward patient wont let you

[starlightmoon96]

The age of Rosalie Chapter 3

Unknown to Rosalie in hell there was someone that believed in change, it wasn't just any demon but a member of Ars Goetia family. Prince Lucrecio he was different from his siblings because he saw threw the vial of the goetia family at a young age before he was told about his engagement to his arrange marriage, he wanted change to try to make things different in changing the customs. He had tried for so many years, before his wedding with his arranged wife Sitara he had did thee unheard of in Ars Goetia...he had ran away he refused to let anyone control his life and no matter how hard he tried nothing was going to change. He was the first to had left willingly and maybe had hoped in being the inspiration for rebellion in the ars goetia, he never bothered in sharing his thoughts and feelings with anyone. Not even the imp servants. He had treated them a lot better than most demon royalty, he treated the imps with respect which wasn't so common even during the mid 18th century

During around the time of Lucrico's escape from his arranged wedding and now on the run from the Goetia family at thee age of 18 years old and the marrying age for most royals...

Rosalie had hid behind closed doors from the public and still devoted her time in aiding the underground railroad, Lilly's family had taken the role with making as heads of Rosemont Academy because of it's unique teachings and proven very useful. Lilly and her daughter's children would be en charge of the school while her husband and her son would be the face of Rosalie's business, the families that knew of Rosalie aided as well in what they could do to protect Rosalie. Rosalie did find a new apprentice, a young six year old African American girl named Amity who she had rescued from a slave auction. In a way she adopted the girl as her daughter and her mansion didn't feel so empty, she enrolled her in her school and made a promise not to tell anyone with her connection to Rosalie and the girl promised her that the only the headmaster knew of her. Rosalie's wealth only increased more over the coarse of four decades and was now the wealthiest women in the Louisianan and basically owned the state, her dreams in charge was starting to show as soon as she opened her school and allowed all races to enter and giving children a new out look on the world and starting to treated one another as equals regardless of the skin color or background. Yes there where people that still didn't want to accept change and tried to fight against Rosalie, but because of the type of power she had and still holding the title of America's first female hero they couldn't do anything about it.

On the night of May 9, 1850 was the night that changed Rosalie. After she had tucked Amity to bed she left her room and closed the door, of course she was wearing her night gown and had her hair in a very long braid that went past her ankles and dragged to the ground. When she walked back to her room and looked out the passing window from the back of the house admiring the beauty of the harvest moon she noticed something laying in her flower garden.

"What the hell?" Of course she opened the window and using her magic she flew over to whoever was passed out on her rose brushes, the second she landed on the ground in front of the person she imminently noticed the man's wings and bird like tail. Before she even touched his shoulder she quickly covered her nose with her hand with a disguised look on her face, as she backed away from the man

"Ahh..he reeks of booze." Looking around her surroundings on the ground she had found a long enough tree branch and used it to poke his shoulder a few time, Rosalie finally got a good look at his face when he turned around and she knew what kind of demon he was.

" An Ars Goetia? This is new? I wonder what rank he is?" That Goetia was Lucrecio who was still passed out drunk, even when Rosalie poked him on his cheek, he rolled over off the brush he was on and fell face flat on the dirt.

"Wow how pitiful."Rosalie said that seeing the state of him just when she was about to leave she stopped herself and couldn't help but hearing the sobs from the demon who was still passed out and looked back at him

"The Goetia are suppose to be prideful of their status? Guess it wouldn't hurt to ask some questions when he wakes up?" She brought the demon royal into her home by using her magic in levitating him off the ground so she wouldn't have to touch him nor wanting to smell like alcohol either, it was also her first time in helping a demon so she wasn't certain how to feel when he would wake up.

Rosalie's morning routine changed a little when morning came, she was already up and had blended a few herbs and made tea. Amity who was in the kitchen with Rosalie was eating her breakfast and finished it before she left for school.

"Have a good day." Rosalie hugged Amity goodbye and she hugged Rosalie back before taking off out the door, right after that Rosalie had pouring the tea she had made in a cup and walked out the kitchen and up the staircase to the room where she had the demon. She had put him in her large library on one of the loveseats she had that was large enough for him since he was 8ft, when she came in the library and using her magic in opening the curtains that made the demon groan because of the sun hitting his face, he didn't open his eyes but he still stood up as Rosalie approached him and held out the cup to him

"Here it'll help your hangover pretty quick." Still shutting his eyes with one of his hand he used his free hand in grabbed the cup out of her hands and she drank the whole thing in one setting, Rosalie caught the cup when it fell out of the demon's hands.

"Care to tell me what you where doing in my rose brush last night?" Being surprised by her words the demon released his hand from his eyes and was surprised seeing that he wasn't in his castle but instead in the living world, he was even more surprised when he saw Rosalie standing right in front of him and he acted a little nervous

"Rosalie Belmont?" She was a little surprised that he knew her name

"Wait you know me already? Did Lucifer say something?"

"There are many that know of your battle with Satan

and how it was a draw, both admirable and fearful considering your family bloodline...I'm surprised your still alive your battle was over a hundred years ago? Doesn't look like you've aged either like normal humans?" After he said that Rosalie questioned him

"Speaking of bloodline, I'd like to know what a goetia is doing here in the living world? Along with knowing your ranking if you don't mind?" With that said the demon sighed and answered her not looking so happy as he spoke

"I used to be one of the many useless prince's of the Ars Goetia family, now former Prince Lucrecio.."

"Used to be?" Rosalie repeated that with a curious look on her face and she then questioned

"What happened?" With that asked Lucrecio answered her

"I ran away from my arranged wedding was what I did, I always hated my status

and title, it's caused me nothing but misery my whole fucking life." Hearing that surprised Rosalie so much so that she found herself sitting next to the guy

"Really? Care to share? It wouldn't kill you? would it?" Rosalie was interested in hearing Lucrecio's story, now getting a closer look at his face she could tell the sadness and loneliness in his eyes and seeing the black tear lines under his eyes despite being young.

"For a demon royalty like yourself calling his prince title useless is a first."

"Indeed it is, I'm the first to see threw the vial. To figure it all out the truth....and wanting change." Rosalie's eyes perked up the moment Lucrecio said the word ' change' and she kept listening to him

"I tried...so many years in wanting change, it stop the old outdated traditions in wanted to start new ones. But no one wanted those changes the Goetia family is too stubborn and enjoyed those horrible traditions, I never spoke to my father about it because I knew right away he won't listen to me. He only cares about himself and his status, he has too many children to even remember their names. That's how much of a horrible parent he is.

Even though I'm a prince my status couldn't even get just one other on my side." Rosalie was so surprised by Lucrecio's words, it reminded her so much of herself when she was younger in wanted to help humanity and wanting to make the world better.

"What where some of your ideas in wanting change?" Hearing her say that Lucrecio was surprised by that and he looked at her with an almost shocked look on his face looking directly at her, like he couldn't believe what he heard.

"You....really want to hear?"

"I understand what your going threw, I still want to help with bettering humanity. I'm slowly doing that right now, but there are so many that don't want change and to fight against me and my beliefs. I want humanity to not live such short scared lives anymore with real medicine and knowledge, to learn how the world really works and hopefully be treated as equals instead of being so separated by race...Not a lot take women seriously so it puts me in a spot for being around sexiest people." Rosalie never thought that she would have such common ground with a demon, she had killed many in her life as did her family but Lucrecio was different from all the demons she had encountered including her encounter with Lucifer despite him being a fallen angel. And strange to Lucrecio he felt the same way with Rosalie despite her being both a human a Belmont, in fact Rosalie left such an impression on him that he had taken Rosalie to hell to see his private workshop after he had told her that he had a strong love her science and medicine making. He was the only one that used the room since he didn't anyone going in the room so it was safe for Rosalie, it was large and it left Rosalie in aw seeing everything.

"My....this is incredible Lucrecio." Rosalie said that to him when she look at him with a cheerful smile on her face

"I'd like you can help me out with my cos, humanity won't live sort lives and to really open their eyes. They won't be so superstitious if they know how things really work? And maybe bettering themselves?" Rosalie said that to him as she approached him and he questioned her

"Why would I do that? I'm already have issues trying to changed the Goetia family as it is?"

"To make the world better, to make a difference. Maybe not with the Ars Goetia but to a race of people that need change." With that said Rosalie then spoke almost proudly

"You can start with me...and then I can start with you."Lucrecio couldn't help but smile after Rosalie spoke and he respectfully bows his head to her and held out his hand to her

"I think I might take your offer Rosalie Belmont."

Thanks to Rosalie's help she was able to transport all the items from Lucrecio's privet study out of that castle and transporting it to the Belmont Castle in France, since he was now a self banished prince he wasn't welcome in the place he once called home. The two where happy that the no one noticed them before they returned back to earth, from that day on the two had became close Rosalie never thought she would have a level of closeness with a demon and Lucrecio felt the same with Rosalie even though she was Belmont and still a demon hunter he didn't care.

After a short period of time the two of them had started dating and kept it secrete, Lucrecio spent a lot of time in the human realm with Rosalie in his human disguise. A lot of their dates where over seas mainly in the United Kingdom in London and in France, where even she had to disguise herself with hiding her blood red hair. Rosalie didn't go to those countries just for her dates but also in helping people, she had helped many homeless children in London and giving them second chances. Lucrecio used his powers in making a portal for those children to Rosemont for them to have a fresh start and those children took the offer for no longer living on the streets, the same with France as well the two had helped a total of a hundred children. Lucrecio also became involved with the underground railroad under the human name Lucas Gale as Rosalie Belmont's partner, Rosalie had never felt so happy being around Lucrecio and he felt the same with her and the two ended up fall in love with one another.

On the anniversary of the night they had first met in 1851 Lucrecio had proposed to Rosalie on the night of the lunar eclipse in France in the Belmont garden, of course Rosalie said yes and became the first Belmont to marry a demon and breaking the traditions of her family, thought it didn't matter to her since she was the only living survivor of her bloodline. The two had married the very night with a ceremony with just the two of them, Lucrecio had given Rosalie a beautiful black ring and the diamond on the center was the most beautiful she had ever seen.

Rosalie then put a blood red men's wedding ring on Lucrecio's ring finger, Rosalie was happy she finally found someone even though he was a demon and Prince Lucrecio was happy that he had finally found someone that loved him for him, despite his REAL wife being a human from a demon hunting family. After they where married Rosalie had made matching heart shaped lockets that played the same song, because of the design Lucrecio wore it like a breast pocket watch and Rosalie wore hers around her neck.

"When two souls are meant for one another..." Rosalie said that to Lucrecio lovingly under the stars and the moon basking in starlight

"Nothing can keep them apart." Where Lucrecio's words to Rosalie

___

Four month after being married to Rosalie's shock she had found out that she was pregnant, upon telling Lucrecio he took was shocked and didn't think it was possible. Either way the couple was very happy that they would have a family that would be filled with love and care, though either of them knew what the child would look like since it would be half demon/ human hybrid nor not knowing how long Rosalie would be pregnant.

For Rosalie being pregnant was well.....a new experience for her, she noticed that her personality changed with the weird mood swings. It was good thing she didn't go out much and still had the Belmont home in France, she wasn't angry she was super emotional over the smallest things.  Lucrecio stuck with Rosalie as much as he could during Rosalie's pregnancy during the first two months, she also had strange food cravings during those first two months. One week she had nothing but meat of different types, except for bird in respect to Lucrecio however she noticed she ate mostly goat and lamb which was strange to her since she rarely ate the two. Another week she didn't really eat regular food nor real food she drank a lot of animal blood which made her lose around 10lbs she mostly drank goat and cattle blood, what really confused Rosalie the most was during the two months of being pregnant her stomach wasn't sticking out and didn't show any signs that she was pregnant.

It was during her fifth month of being pregnant that she had decided to move back to the Belmont home in France, Amity would be taken care of my Lilly's family until she returned. She also felt like her child would be born a lot more quicker than a regular human infant, sure enough Rosalie was right a week after staying in the Belmont home with Lucrecio she had given birth to her child.......but the kid wasn't what she expected. She had given birth to a large light sky blue egg that was eight pounds heavy, because it was an egg neither of them knew the gender of the child and started coming up with names. After some thinking the two had came up two names if it was a girl Cordelia, and if it was a boy Aster.

"So...how long do you think?" Rosalie questioned Lucrecio while she was holding the egg in her arms with care and he answered her when he crouched down to her level

" It normally takes about close to a month, but in our case it might be a little different? Guess we'll have to wait and see?" After saying that Rosalie gave him a peck on his lips

"You should get back anyway, you are still keeping up with appearances. And making the Goetia believe you've finally changed."Lucrecio couldn't help but laugh hearing that

"I still have a feeling there will be an Goetia that believes in change just like me, I'll just be patient until then."

Even after returning to New Orleans,

in keeping a close eye on the egg she had wrapped the egg around her shoulders like how Native American's carried their babies with scarfs. Because it was an egg and wasn't moving much no one knew what was really under Rosalie scarf even when she went out in disguise or being around Amity during her Wiccan training, she also did check on things in Rosemont in person still in disguise and even cutting her hair short to her shoulders during those visits.

The only other person that knew of Rosalie's child was Lilly and her daughter, yes they where quite shocked that a demon hunter fell in love with demon royalty. But after she explained everything the two understood why Rosalie fell in love with him, she wanted only the women from Lilly's family knowing about her child the same with the other families that Rosalie was allied with so her child wouldn't be alone in a way. She also wanted less knowing about her child for protection since a member of the ars Goetia family managed to have a child with a human even if that Goetia was self banished, which was never been attempted or even thought of.

One thing that didn't change with Rosalie's life even after giving birth to her child where demons trying to capture her, she made certain that no demon knew of her child during the first few weeks of waiting for the egg to hatch. Like with the Belmont home Rosalie had put a powerful barrier around the land of her mansion to prevent demons from entering accept for Lucrecio who can get threw thanks to the locket Rosalie had given him, there where a few stupid humans that summoned demons and Rosalie had to deal with them. Some of those humans had summoned those demons in hopes of killing Rosalie, though those humans didn't know who they where really messing with and she did find out the names of the humans that tried to kill her and in return she killed them and had a feeling that they would end up in hell.

With waiting patiently for a month and a half the egg finally hatched on October 10th 1851, Lucrecio was with Rosalie seeing the hatching. The child was female and had strong human features, she had Rosalie's usual eyes but instead of blue that where red just like Lucrecio. Her hair was light purple that resembled feathers but the ends had Rosalie's blood red hair color, the child's skin was a little more darker than Rosalie's along with not having normal feature on her lower have. She looked like a harpy infant along with having Lucrecio's wings and the ends that same blood red color, even her ears weren't human instead they where pointed that looked close to a demon's despite those bird features the child was still beautiful and named her Cordelia Goetia Belmont.

Cordelia wore regular shoes and tights in hiding her harpy/ bird feet she felt a little insecure about, though she didn't mind her hands that where black just like Lucrecio she resembled a sinner child rather and being a half breed. Both of them kept their promise in surrounded Cordelia with love and knowledge, despite being seven years old she inherited Lucrecio's intelligence and was a fast learner when it came to the study in her mother's heritage with being a wiccan along with knowing how to fight like her mother. Cordelia also had Rosalie's beauty and charm, in fact Cordelia admired her mother so much that she wore half of the Belmont crest on her clothing. She also loved and admired her father for still believing in his cos despite others of his family not being on his side, Cordelia even started her magic training early at the age of five years old because it was what she wanted so that she would be able to handle both the living world and the demon world.

"She's so young and she's already so powerful...just like her mother." Lucrecio thought that to himself after tucking Cordelia to bed and leaning her bedroom, at that moment Rosalie has returned her hair back to being 90inches and in a high ponytail.

"How is she?"

"Takes after you and your rare magic abilities and being mixed with my own. Cordelia is already powerful, can't imagine what she'll do when she's older?" As Rosalie answered him Lucrecio lifted Rosalie off the ground and carried her bridal style as he started walking

"Well that depends on what path our daughter takes and what fate guides her too."

Rosalie took part in training Cordelia with her magic and saw that Lucrecio was right about her having the same type of rare magic that she has, though being half demon royalty she was able to use abilities that Rosalie couldn't. Despite her blood daughter Rosalie still raised Amity who was eleven years old and mastered her wiccan training, she wanted to be like Rosalie in wanting change. She had moved out of Rosalie's home and moved to Rosemont Academy instead and even being the first female apprentice in business alongside with Lilly's son and grandson who was the same age as Amity, so they took Amity under their wing happily.

The more Cordelia grew over the years the more powerful she had gotten with her magic, especially with her defense magic. She had spared with both of her parents and easily beat her father, though Rosalie was still powerful and hard for Cordelia to defeat. That training continued until in 1868 when Cordelia had turned sixteen years old, now a master in magic and using that magic in disguising herself as a normal looking human but still kept her hair and eyes the same. She also discovered something else about herself, she wanted to be a singer and had a voice to do it. Because of her appearance she really didn't want to cause too much attention and decided to start her singing career in hell posing as a sinner, with Lucrecio research he shown that Cordelia had the same very unusual genetic structure that made Rosalie live for so long and predicted that she would stop aging when she turned twenty one years old.

Cordelia herself was happy hearing that there was a date where she wouldn't draw attention to herself when she would start making a name for herself, like her parents she also wanted to try to make a difference both in hell and in the living world. She was happy that she had time to do it, she also hoped to find true love like her parents and not caring what race they where.

[ltwilliammowett]

Captain Charles Vane the English Pirate

Charles Vane was a pirate who is believed to have been born in England in 1680 and to have spent most of his time in the Caribbean but also worked from the Bahamas north along the east coast of North America to New York. What he did in his early life is not known except that he came to Port Royal during the War of the Spanish Succession and that he served under the pirate Henry Jennings in Nassau.

Captain Charles Vane in: The History and lives of all the most notorious pirates, and their crews. London, 1725 (x)

Like many pirates of the time, they both plundered ships and raided a stranded Spanish treasure galleon on the Florida coast in 1715. After only three years, in January 1718, King George I issued a pardon to all the pirates in order to put an end to the piracy. Jennings accepted, only Vane did not see fit to retire and became captain of Jennings' remaining crew. He was captured but released on good terms, which prompted him to take 40 of the worst pirates in Naussau, including Calico Jack Rackham. By April 1718, he had already assembled a small fleet and captured 12 merchant ships, Vane making a reputation for his cruelty to his opponents. Even the new governor Woddes Rogers, who was soon to arrive, could not do anything about this. Especially not when Vane decided that Nassau belonged to him and captured a new ship and more merchant ships to keep his men happy. In the process, he managed that Nassau was under his control.

On 24 July 1718, as Vane and his men were preparing to leave again, a Royal Navy frigate sailed into the harbour with the new governor. Vane controlled the harbour and his small fort, which flew a pirate flag. He greeted the governor by immediately firing on the Royal Navy fleet and then sending a letter to Rogers demanding that he be allowed to dispose of his looted goods before accepting the king's pardon. His situation was not particularly good, so he unleashed his flagship on the navy fleet as a firing ship. In the confusion, he managed to escape.

Captain Charles Vane in Black Sails, played by Zach McGowan (x) 

Still wanting to own Nassau, he tried to convince Blackbeard to go with him, but he declined.

In November, Vane ordered an attack on a frigate that turned out to be a French navy warship. Vane broke off the fight and fled, although his crew, led by the reckless Calico Jack, wanted to stay and fight to capture the French ship. The next day, the crew removed Vane as captain and chose Calico Jack instead. Vane and 15 others were given a small sloop and the two pirate crews went their separate ways. Although the situation did not look good for Vane, he had talent as a pirate and barely three months later he was in control of a small pirate fleet again; an achievement that made him even more famous. His luck ran out, however, when he and his ships were caught in a hurricane off Honduras. He managed to save himself on an island and survived. Until the ship of his former friend Holiford, now loyal to the king, came along. Holiford refused to take him, fearing that Vane might persuade his crew to mutiny. A ship that passed by later, unaware of his identity, took him on board as a sailor. There he quickly became quite popular as a hardworking and experienced seaman.

The capture of the English pirate Charles Vane, 1721 (x)

Vane's undoing came when his captain met Holiford on the high seas. Holiford recognised Vane and told the captain of his true identity. He was immediately captured and taken to Port Royal, where he was charged with piracy on 22 March 1721. The result was beyond doubt, as a long line of witnesses testified against him, including many of his victims. He was hanged at Gallows Point in Port Royal on 29 March 1721. His body was hung on a gallows near the entrance to the harbour as a warning to other pirates.

[carewyncromwell]

“I wasn't looking for this, but now you're in my way.”

x~x~x~x

featuring Darian Zain @kathrynalicemc (yes, this is almost entirely for her and me, so sue me 😜) and referencing the crew of the Empyrean @thatravenpuffwitch @sirfluffig @oneirataxia-girl

x~x~x~x

In the 1930′s, the Wizarding World was in turmoil. With the rise of the Dark wizard Grindelwald, many lived in fear of what another Great War -- this time one waged with magic -- could look like. It’s unsurprising, therefore, that many sought an escape from those fears -- and one of those things that provided such an escape were the tales circulated of Jules Aquila, his crew, and their ship, the Empyrean. 

The Empyrean was a ship that British wizard Jules Aquila had stolen from a Muggle museum back in the 1920′s and enchanted to fly, so that he and his associates could take flight across the world. And sure enough, the Empyrean had known its fair share of adventures, questing for the likes of long-lost magical sights like Atlantis and Dolorous Guard. However much the magical governments of the world gave the flying ship a very critical side eye for flirting so frequently with breaking the Statute of Secrecy, most mainstream wizards and witches were enchanted by the rebellion, adventure, and romance encapsulated in the crew’s lifestyle. 

Although Jules Aquila was and would inevitably always be the most famous of the Empyrean’s crew as captain, however, that didn’t mean that other crew members didn’t get their fair share of glory. Aquila’s best mate and quartermaster Kath Alton was purportedly one of the most talented magical engineers on Earth, while his first mate, Desiree Lestrange, had been a well-regarded Cursebreaker for le Banque Decristaux before abandoning her cushy position and lifestyle to set sale with the sky Captain. There were also much more interesting, but less provable rumors circulated -- those of Aquila having recruited a wanted thief to his crew in exchange for keeping him from getting arrested; those of Aquila having stolen his beloved pet occamy from the infamous French magical gangster Claude Macnair; even those of a certain crewmate with large, eagle-like wings sprouting out from his back like some mythical angel. Some stories claimed the winged crewmate was a wanted man, though others still -- even more wild -- claimed he was descended from royalty, or even a Djinn. 

One story Darian Zain hoped would never be passed around him, though, was the time that he flew right into the window of a Muggle airplane. 

The Empyrean had been traveling up the far-eastern coastline of the Americas, on its way up toward Greenland. Desiree had determined that there might be some magical Viking settlements in the area, and Jules was eager to investigate. On the way, though, the crew decided that they’d have to stock up for a journey so far north, not just in the essentials like food and water, but more importantly, of warm blankets and clothing. Most of their crewmembers weren’t used to such cold temperatures, after all -- especially not Darian, who grew up in a much hotter desert climate. So, in preparation, Desiree and Lugh had gone to the wizarding village of Gravesville, right in the heart of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, so as to fetch some of the magical supplies needed, while Kath and Felix went into the “Muggle” side of town to pick up the more mundane kind. Once the others had purchased everything they needed, Darian then played “carrier pigeon” and flew it all back to the Empyrean. 

Many people in Darian’s place might’ve been a little resentful of having to play the role of an owl just because he had wings -- but the runaway prince honestly was eager to help. After nearly an entire life of being locked up indoors with nothing to do, it was fun to get out and actually do something. And it was kind of cool, to be needed for once. He’d become rather fond of his crewmates, over the years, and being given any kind of responsibility made Darian feel included in a way he hadn’t really known at home, when his father the King kept him so cloistered away from everyone else. Lugh, Kath, and Felix had taught Darian a lot about weapons, ships, record players, magic tricks, and lockpicks -- heck, even Jules had taught him how to navigate using the stars, if he ever got lost. And even though the ship’s resident taskmaster Desiree always gave him a lot of chores to do, Darian knew that was just because of her own strong work ethic. From what Darian gathered, he’d also reminded Desiree of her younger brother upon first meeting, due to how privileged their upbringings had been...and frankly, after having met the spoiled, pigheaded, self-absorbed blood purist that was Marius Lestrange, Darian hated the thought of ever being the least bit like him. 

At least Desi should have enough to make a good meal, once we’ve all gotten back to the ship, Darian thought to himself with a smile. Maybe she might even make some naan, if I make really good time?

This thought cheered him up significantly. Desiree had first learned how to make naan while they were traveling through Iran, and she’d taken to baking some as a treat sometimes, whenever Darian’s work had impressed her. The fresh bread always made him think of home. 

The satchel on Darian’s back was heavy. He moved to adjust it, only to have to fumble a bit to keep it from opening and its contents from spilling.

“Whoop -- !”

He shifted the satchel around in his arms, latching it back together a bit more tightly as he flew. 

“There we go,” he mumbled with a smile, as he tossed the satchel back over his shoulder. “Now then...back to it -- ”

WHAM.

Because Darian hadn’t been looking where he was flying, he didn’t see the thing whose airspace he was entering until it was far too late. 

His head pounding with pain, Darian tried to orient himself, even as it felt like his world was spinning. 

He’d hit something -- what had he hit? A wall? A wall of glass?

Blinking rapidly even as colorful stars winked in front of his eyes, he could feel the thing he’d collided with shifting downward. There was something moving behind the wall of glass -- was that a person?

Darian flapped his wings, trying to fly back a bit so he could get a better look. Unfortunately when he did, he found his right wing was having trouble straightening out.

“Ow -- ow -- !”

Pain pulsed through his wing as he flapped it. He tried to lean more on the other to support him, but when he did, he could feel the satchel sliding over again. In trying to catch it, he lost his balance, and suddenly he was falling right through the air. 

“WHOA!”

Darian lashed his arms out, securing the satchel of supplies close to his chest so they wouldn’t fall out. He tried to flap his wings, thinking to slow himself down -- but his right wing was throbbing in pain -- he must’ve sprained it --

Blinking rapidly, Darian tried to focus. The ground was coming up fast -- way too fast -- !

He lashed an arm out desperately, his eyes focusing blearily on the ground even as his head pounded with pain. 

“Come on -- ” he choked. “Come on -- stop falling, stop falling -- stop, stop, stop, STOP -- !”

A burst of air abruptly puffed out of his hand. It wasn’t enough to stop Darian from falling, but it did partially counteract the pull of gravity, blasting him ever-so-slightly upward again. As fate would have it, it was just enough to hoist him up onto the wing of the weird, red-painted metal thing that had dived down to try to catch him. 

Darian looked up, startled.

I’ve seen one of these! he realized, recalling a picture in a book he’d read a piece of over Desiree’s shoulder one day. It's one of those...‘aeroplanes!’

Through the hard glass window, Darian could see a pilot dressed in a brown leather hat and coat and thick goggles, who gave him an encouraging smile. 

“Hang on!” the pilot shouted over the sound of the plane’s propeller. His voice was husky and laced with a strong Boston accent, but his lips were upturned in a rather handsome smile. “I’ll go in for a landin’!”

Stunned and still nursing a throbbing headache, Darian did what he was told, clinging onto the edge of the wing for dear life. The plane glided down much more smoothly than he’d expected, and within moments, with a light bump, they’d collided with the ground. The pilot then parked the plane safely on a hanger set up in the open field. 

Darian carefully eased himself up onto the edge of the wing, stretching out his right wing as best he could. 

“Ow...”

He winced, only managing to spread it half the way out before the pain stopped him. Yep -- definitely a sprain. 

The plane window opened upward, and the pilot hoisted himself up and out of the cockpit onto the lower wing just below Darian. 

“Uh...hey!” he called up. “You all right up there?”

Darian straightened up abruptly. 

“Yeah!” he answered at once, almost on impulse. 

I will be, anyway, he thought more sheepishly. Once I can brew myself some Wiggenweld Potion, back on the ship...

Darian’s stomach sank. 

The Empyrean. How was he going to get back up to the ship, if he couldn’t even fly? He hadn’t even thought to bring any healing potions with him, just in case something happened...

The pilot’s handsome smile broadened a bit as he slipped off his goggles. His beetle-black eyes were long-lashed and sparkling. 

“That’s a relief. You hit my window pretty hard...I thought for a minute I might’ve killed you...”

Darian laughed. “And I thought for a minute I was going to die, until you caught me! Thanks for that!”

“No problem,” said the pilot brightly. “I mean, heck -- s’not like I coulda just let you fall, could I?”

He paused. His dark eyes ran over Darian’s face, along his shoulder to up at his right wing. 

“...Are...are those real?” he breathed after a moment. He seemed enchanted. 

Darian blinked. Oh, right -- for a split second, he’d almost forgotten that his wings were anything strange. But hey, was that surprising? His wings were a bit weird to wizards, let alone to a Muggle like this pilot was -- or at least, he figured it must be weird: he’d never talked to a real Muggle before...

This thought was like a two-by-four to Darian’s head.

A Muggle. He’d been seen by a Muggle -- a Muggle was staring right at him, at his wings -- !

“No!” 

Darian choked out the word like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He quickly tried to fold his wings, even as his right one spasmed with pain. 

“No, no, they’re -- uh -- mechanical!” he lied quickly. “Like your aeroplane! Lots of gears and metal, underneath all the feathers!” 

He laughed weakly as he tried once again to fold his wings over his shoulders like a cape, holding his right one in both hands to try to mitigate the pain pulsing through it. 

The pilot blinked slowly at him, his expression becoming much more amused. “...Really?”

“Yeah!” said Darian, his mouth spread into a very nervous smile. “They’re completely normal! Just like me -- normal and Muggle as can be -- ”

Wait -- Muggles don’t call themselves Muggles, do they -- do they use No-Maj -- ?!

“ -- I-I mean...just a normal mug, you know -- that’s me. Heh...”

His voice sounded pathetic in his own ears. He had to sound like a complete idiot! 

Rather than looking suspicious, however, the pilot only seemed to smile broader and more sincerely than ever. He seemed almost charmed. 

“Well...any normal mug I reckon would be a bit shaken, fallin’ outta the air like that,” he said. He extended a gloved hand to Darian. “Here -- lemme help you down.”

Darian blinked, a bit confused. Then, hesitantly, he accepted the hand. It was smaller than his, but the pilot held his hand securely as he helped Darian down onto the lower wing, before they both climbed back down to the ground. The pilot was the exact same height as Darian. 

The embodiment of tall, dark and handsome, the prince thought amusedly, reminded of Kath sarcastically using the same term for him, when the crew of the Empyrean had to go undercover at a masquerade party and a bunch of the ladies had abruptly all started flirting with Darian. 

Once they’d made it back to solid ground, the pilot took off his helmet at last. A wave of beautiful, long black hair swirled out, cascading around the pilot’s face like ocean water.

Darian blinked in slight surprise. Seemed he’d been saved by a tall, dark handsome female pilot. 

Cool. 

Several more planes flew over their heads. The pilot watched them, her dark eyes narrowing a bit. 

“Here,” she said lowly. “Best hide those away, ‘fore anyone else sees...”

She leaned over the edge of her plane and took out a blanket from inside the cockpit, wrapping it quickly around Darian’s folded wings on his shoulders. 

“Oh, uh -- thanks,” said Darian sheepishly. 

The blanket was small enough that he’d have to keep his wings completely folded, to hide them under it. He glanced over his shoulder at the planes soaring overhead.

“...Who are they?”

“The other cadets,” said the pilot as she put down her helmet on the wing and worked to tie up her hair into a messy bun. “They’re all pretty swell, honestly, but that don’t mean they pro’lly wouldn’t flip a bit, seeing your... ‘mechanics.’” She shot another furtive look skyward. “Best be gettin’ on.”

Picking her helmet again and tucking it under her arm, she then gave Darian a smile. 

“Are you hungry?” 

Darian was startled. “Huh?”

“Well, I did knock yeh plum outta the sky,” she said good-naturedly. “Reckon I really should apologize proper for that. My car’s just ‘round the corner from the hanger, we can always drive out and grab a bite. Then maybe I can drop you somewheres, so you can make your way home...”

Darian rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably as she started to walk across the field and he followed along close behind. “Well, uh...that might be a bit hard, I mean...I’m not really from around here...my crew and I are just passing through...”

“Could one of your buddies come and pick you up somewheres?” asked the pilot in concern. 

Darian considered this. Truthfully, all he really needed to get airborne was a healing potion...or just the ingredients for one -- he could more than brew it himself. And even if he obviously couldn’t brew anything in front of his new Muggle friend (this thought made Darian feel a bit giddy despite himself -- he’d made friends with a real-life Muggle!! Not just that, but a fly girl!!), he could probably manage it somewhere a bit more magical...like Gravesville! 

“...Well, there’s a place in Philadelphia...my friends were shopping there, just a little while ago. I could meet them there.” 

Gravesville would have owls, right? Darian thought to himself. 

The pilot smiled. “In Philly? No sweat! That’s just over the river from Camden...I can drop you off there, after we eat.”

Darian’s face lit up. “Great!”

They reached the pilot’s car. Darian for a minute couldn’t help but just walk around it, entranced. It was a bright and shiny ruby red, with a lightweight black roof propped up by metal rods, and it had two spare wheels mounted to either side of its nose, almost like decoration. 

“You like her?” asked the pilot. 

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” said Darian. “Her, I mean...”

He was reminded of how Jules always called the Empyrean a “she” -- he’d said that all ships were called that. 

I wonder if all vehicles are ‘she’s?’ Darian wondered to himself. 

He beamed at the pilot. “She’s beautiful!” 

The pilot couldn’t bite back a proud smile as she flushed a dark red. 

“Old Apple’s kinda old-fashioned -- I got her second-hand,” she explained bashfully. “But I was able to fix her up some, ‘round my studies.” 

She opened up the passenger door, extending a hand to invite Darian in. Once he sat down inside the car and had put his bulging satchel gently down on the floor, she darted around the other side and began to unfold the car’s top and stow it away. It seemed clunky to do -- the top made a lot of weird noises when it was tamped down, and Raye had to twist and smack parts of it just to compress it, but she did it with such little fuss that it seemed like an inconvenience she was very used to. 

“I just realized -- I haven’t introduced myself!” said the pilot with a sheepish smile. “The name’s Raye -- Raye Davies. Short for Rachel -- but really, just Raye will do.”

Darian beamed. “Pleased to meet you, Raye! Darian Zain -- that’s what most everyone calls me.” 

Raye cocked an eyebrow at him as she smiled. “‘Most everyone?’ Well then, I guess I’ll follow suit.”

Climbing in herself and closing the door, she put the key in the ignition and turned on the car, making it rumble to life under Darian. The noise and movement startled the prince, but only to the extent that it made his tanned face light up with excitement -- a reaction that made Raye’s face seem to glow that bit brighter too. 

“Now, then...hm...” Raye mumbled thoughtfully. “Reckon we can’t be strollin’ on in to any diners: you’d look weird, bein’ all wrapped up in a blanket. And some joints ‘round here can be right rotten to ‘out-of-towners’...”

Her black eyes then lit up with a thought. 

“Ever been to the park-in theater, up in Pennsauken Township?” she asked.

Darian blinked. “No.”

Raye's face lit up. “Oh, it’s the berries! They just opened it a couple months ago...but the dames there just come right up to your car, take your order, and then bring it on back to you, so you don’t miss any of the movie...”

Darian racked his brains. He’d heard of movies -- the Empyrean’s ship doctor sometimes talked about one of his friends who made those for a living...what was his name, ‘Fawcett’...?

“Sure, they don’t play anythin’ that great and the sound quality’s kinda bum,” Raye rambled on a bit more awkwardly. “But well, folks don’t really get outta their cars there, so no one’ll pro’lly look at you funny if you’re wrapped up in a blanket. And even if it’s cheap, their food’s still pretty jake. Whaddya say?”

For all of Raye’s insecurity about the place, Darian seemed perfectly undaunted. The idea of such a new experience excited him to no end, so when she asked his opinion, he answered both immediately and brightly. 

“Sounds like fun!” 

Raye beamed, visibly relieved. 

Once she was sure Darian was holding on securely, Raye put the car in drive and stepped on the accelerator, driving off down the road with speed. 

Darian had to grab the blanket around his wings before it flew off with one hand and hold onto the bottom of the car’s window frame with the other, but the speed still made his heart race and his chin-length dark hair flap in the wind. He couldn’t stop himself from giving a loud “WOO!” over the air loudly rattling in his ears. 

~*~

Raye drove Darian up to Pennsauken Township, into the quirky new park-in theater. The vendors there sold lots of candy, popcorn, and chips, alongside all the soda pop, ice cream, and hot dogs. Raye had offered to treat Darian, which turned out to be a big mistake, since Darian immediately went hog-wild and bought absolutely everything available.

“Guess I’ll be havin’ beans for the next week,” Raye muttered to herself as she handed over her hard-won earnings to the vendor.

She found she couldn’t be too upset, though, seeing how excited Darian was when the vendor handed him the full contents of her tray. Even the pretty woman giving Darian a sassy wink only seemed to make Raye smile grow amusedly, particularly when the winged young man brightly accepted the assortment of snacks, completely oblivious to the woman’s overtures. 

“Wow,” Darian said excitedly. “Look at them all! There’s so many...”

Raye’s black eyes sparkled a bit when they squinted. “Yeah, there’s a lot more selection, closer to the bigger cities. Easier to ship and store stuff in bulk here...”

Darian considered this. “...I guess that makes sense...”

He’d had dessert almost every day, when he’d still been at home -- it wasn’t as common that he got to have it on board the Empyrean, since they were so on-the-go. The rareness of it hadn’t really disappointed Darian, though -- if anything, it made those sweet treats that bit more special, not to have them every day. Plus he’d gotten to try a lot of different sweets than he’d never had previously, and most of them were great! Except for meringues -- Darian was still baffled that chalky-tasting stuff was somehow considered edible.

He curiously rifled through the different colorful wrappers, reading them one by one. Babe Ruths, Twizzlers, Twinkies, Fritos, Lay’s Potato Chips, Tootsie Rolls, Goobers, Milk Duds, Ritz crackers...

“I’ve never had anything like this before,” he admitted. 

Candied fruits and dates were much more par the course, where Darian was from. In fact, Jules and Kath had only just given both him and Desiree a crash course in commercial magical sweets like Sugar Quills, though Darian took to them much better than Desiree did. 

Darian looked up at Raye eagerly. “Which one should I try first?”

Raye considered this. 

“...Well, d’you like chocolate?” she asked after a moment. 

“Yeah,” said Darian. “I’ve had Cauldro -- I mean, chocolate cakes before...they’re great!”

If Raye had heard his slip-up, she paid it no mind. Instead she merely smiled.

“Maybe a Tastykake would be good, then!”

She took out a tiny cupcake with chocolate wrapped in plastic, taking it out and handing it to Darian. He took a bite, and was startled when along with the chocolate cake, he tasted a sweet buttercream filling.

“Mmm!” he said. He licked his lips of it quickly so he wouldn’t make a mess and beamed at Raye. “This is delicious!”

Raye grinned seeing how happily Darian devoured the cake. He then proceeded to pick out another similar-looking yellow pastry in a wrapper labeled “Twinkies” and unwrapped it. When he bit into it, he was once again delighted when it was full of creamy filling.

“Mmmm!” 

Raye laughed. “You like it?”

“Mm’yeah!” Darian said with his mouth full. He then quickly swallowed, wiping his mouth bashfully. “I mean, yeah!”

Raye only laughed harder, which made Darian laugh too. 

“Here,” said Raye, her face a bit brighter than before as she reached into Darian’s pile and snagged a small handful of unlabeled wrapped brown candy squares, “try the caramels next -- those are my favorite.”

The caramels were indeed pretty tasty. Darian enjoyed how chewy they and the candies called “Tootsie Rolls” were. He also really liked the Mallocups, Raisinets, potato chips, and popsicles. He was fine with just one bite of the black licorice -- he ended up washing it down with some Coca Cola, which was probably his favorite thing of the entire night. He’d never had anything so bubbly before, nor anything that simultaneously tickled his tongue and nose so much, and when it made him belch more loudly than he ever had in his life, both he and Raye couldn’t stop laughing. It even prompted Raye to -- upon several people in other cars shooting Darian disgusted looks -- gulp down quite a lot of soda herself, just so she could belch just as loudly. It ended up being hilarious accompaniment to the cheesy monster movie playing over their heads on the projector screen. 

When the movie was finally over and they’d had their fill of all the food they’d ordered, it was already night. Raye put on a fedora, wool coat, and gloves for warmth, and then she drove Darian over the Delaware River into Philadelphia. 

Darian directed her to the street corner around which lay the wall that obscured the magical borough of Gravesville and asked her to drop him off there. When Raye parked at the street corner, though, she suddenly looked incredibly unsure. Her shoulders had become very tense. 

“Are...you gonna be all right from here?” she asked hesitantly. 

Darian gave her a reassuring smile. “Oh, sure! I know where I’m going.”

Once he was in a more magical environment, he could heal himself without anyone paying him any mind...

He glanced down at the blanket around his shoulders.

“Oh! Here...”

The exiled prince made as if to take it off, but Raye quickly threw out a hand to grab his and stop him from taking it off.

“Don’t!” she said quickly. 

Darian blinked. Raye flushed a bit as she withdrew her hand.

“It’s just...folks will see you,” she mumbled self-consciously. She glanced around at the various passerby anxiously. 

“Well, yeah,” said Darian with a frown. “But you said it’d look weird, if I was walking around with a blanket on. And you need it back, don’t you?”

“I can get another one,” Raye said very quickly and dismissively. 

She kept looking around, almost shrinking a bit against the steering wheel. It was almost like this neighborhood made her nervous, for some reason...

“Are you all right?” Darian asked, concerned. 

Raye forced a smile. “Well, sure -- just...just don’ come down here that much...”

She tried to brush off her nerves, putting on a slightly braver expression.

“...Just...go ahead and keep covered, ‘til you’re back with your crew. Reckon they’d be able to protect you from anyone who might give you grief for your...mechanics.”

Her eyes flitted down to Darian’s folded wings obscured by the blanket around his shoulders. Darian glanced down at her blanket around his shoulders and then back up at her, offering her a slightly gentler smile. 

“You didn’t give me any grief for them,” he pointed out. He smiled a bit sheepishly. “I thought you might actually -- I’m sure you’ve probably never seen a flying man before...”

Raye smiled self-consciously as her eyes fell down to her steering wheel. 

“I’ve seen weirder,” she said dismissively.

Not letting Darian press her further, she changed the subject, forcing her smile that bit more.

“Well, um...it was nice meetin’ you, Darian Zain,” she said formally. “Best of luck gettin’ back to your crew.”

“...Thank you...”

Darian felt himself deflating a bit despite himself. Guess this really was the end of this weird little adventure, wasn’t it...?

Picking up the satchel up off the car floor, he hoisted it up over his shoulder again and put on a braver, more sincere smile. 

“...Raye? I know I just said it, but...thank you. I haven’t really ever been able to go out and just have fun with people that much, and...well, this day was one of the best I’ve ever had, in my whole life.”

He grinned.

“I had a lot of fun! The ride-in was great, and Apple’s a beautiful car -- and you’re a pretty swell friend. So thank you.”

Raye blinked, taken aback by the winged man’s sincerity. Then her black eyes grew a little smaller, sparkling with a bit more fondness.

“...You’re welcome.”

She paused.

“...Hey, um...if you ever end up ‘round here again, you can always look me up, near Camden Airfield. I’m there most days, and just about all the pilots there know me -- even the ones who don’t think lady-folks should be flyin’ planes,” she added with a wryer smile. Her confidence then faltered a bit as she rambled on, “We could always go for a drive somewhere else...we could go to Newark and visit a brewery -- maybe even go to Steel Pier, if there’s time...”

Darian’s grin spread so wide, it nearly took up his whole face.

“Yeah!” he said, thrilled. “I’d like that!” 

Raye’s face flushed happily as she beamed. 

“Great,” she said, her voice a bit breathy despite herself. Her black eyes crinkled up to make room for the big smile on her face. “Well, um...see you ‘round, Darian.”

His face still bright with his big grin, Darian waved with his hand not holding his satchel. 

“Bye, Raye!” 

And with this, he departed around the corner, right up to the enchanted wall leading to Gravesville. Tapping the three left-most bricks with his knuckles, and then kicking the lowest right with his foot, the wall suddenly became as translucent as mist, and Darian slid right on through. 

~*~

As fate would have it, Desiree and Lugh had gone back to Gravesville to look for Darian, after he didn’t return to the Empyrean. Desiree scolded Darian in both English and French for worrying them, and Darian was very apologetic, not just to Desiree, but to the others when they all returned to the ship. Kath ended chewing Darian out even more than Desiree did, especially after Darian told them about the new friend he’d made.

“You seriously just climbed into a complete stranger’s car and drove away with her?” said Kath, flabbergasted. “It’s a bloody miracle that you haven’t gotten yourself killed, with how blindly trusting you are...”

 “She waz only a Muggle, Mon Ami Alton,” said Desiree lightly. “I doubt she would’ve been able to ‘urt Monsieur Zain zat much, even if she tried...but even zo.”

“Don’t underestimate Muggles, your Worship,” Lugh reminded Desiree. “They can be just as helpful or dangerous as any of us.”

“Well, fortunately, it sounds like this one was helpful!” Jules said optimistically. “So we can be thankful for that, at least...”

He smiled at Darian. “Just be more careful next time, all right? Felix, Kath and Desi were all really worried about you.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Felix and Kath shot back in nearly perfect unison. It made Lugh, Darian, and Jules all burst out laughing and made Desiree fail to bite back a smile. 

“I will,” said Darian, smiling slightly as Jules’s pet occamy Zephyr flew up to nuzzle his shoulder affectionately with his beak. 

Definitely should make sure I have some healing potions on me, when I travel alone, he thought to himself. 

~*~

After Darian had left the street corner, Raye stayed parked off to the side for about a half-hour, just in case he reemerged needing more help. It was just as she was about to head out that she caught sight of a familiar face rounding the corner with several other people -- that of a dashing dark-haired man with a pointed chin and nose and sparkling black eyes, dressed in an unusually flowing suit not unlike robes. 

At the sight of Raye, the man stopped mid-walk, staring at her. His eyes were very critical. Raye met his gaze head-on, but her attitude was not hostile or even confrontational -- on the contrary: her posture seemed to shrink a bit against her steering wheel again, even as she stood her ground and stared at him. 

The people around the man glanced over at where he was looking, curious. Muttering something to them under his breath, the man quickly steered them away, shooting another cold look back at Raye as he went. 

Raye looked down at her own hands on Apple’s steering wheel, sighing quietly through her nose. 

It was so much less uncomfortable when the MACUSA was still back in New York City, rather than in Philadelphia...

 At least Seph showed his face after Darian left, Raye thought to herself uncomfortably. 

She didn’t even want to think of how many questions Darian might have, if he’d figured out she had the same last name as the new Head of the Federal Bureau of Covert Vigilance and No-Maj Obliviation...nor how much grief Joseph would give her, for entertaining a clueless foreign wizard with a set of giant wings he couldn’t even hide from Muggle view...

With a cringe, Raye shifted the gears of her car and, with one last look over in the direction of where she knew Gravesville was hidden, she drove off, back over the Delaware River into Camden, New Jersey. 

[mcu1shots]

could you please make me a tony xplus size reader story and getting proposed to but telling him no because she's insecure about her body and him seeing it? it would mean alot im in a dark spot right now.

Of course! Here you go, I hope you enjoy and feel better soon!

Notes/Warnings: insecurity, self doubt, mentions of being a playboy, implications of body negativity, fluff, angst, Plus Sized!Reader

Word Count: 2,351

Nothing More Perfect (Tony Stark x Reader)

Of all the things you had heard about Tony Stark you had never imagined him to be quite the way that he was. He had always presented himself as the playboy billionaire, hosting large parties and being seen with many women. It was always all over the front page of every gossip magazine who Tony’s woman of the week was, it almost had become a game at one point of which celebrity or model would be the next one to fall to his charms. But everything changed a short time ago after the attack on New York.

Everyone had seen how Tony flew directly into the portal that led to… well, perhaps only the man himself knew the answer to that. Ever since then he had become… different. Parties hosted in his honour were still as rowdy as ever, but the inventor himself was barely there for a few minutes, enough time to enjoy a couple of the drinks being served, before he disappeared for the evening. Gossip columnists no doubt mourned for the stories that they used to have from him, for no longer did he have his classic ‘woman of the week’ but he was barely seen to be forming connections with anyone. That is, until someone sent in a picture of Tony with a woman.

That woman was you. It had been around two years ago now when the press found out about you, and all it had taken was someone’s untimely photo of him kissing you goodnight in the hallway of your apartment complex. Before that you had always been very careful not to tell anyone but your close friends about your relationship but, Tony being Tony, insisted that he had to kiss you one last time before your night together ended. And who were you to try to resist that?

The gossip columnists, no doubt bitter from the stories that they had been starved from for so long, had a field day writing about you and Tony, you found paparazzi at your work and it was hard to escape the articles. You remember Tony clearly telling you “everything they’re saying is just for the story” as he urged you to never pick up a magazine or read a single article, even going as far as to suggest blocking results from anything that would come up on your computer or phone.

And for a while you were successful in ignoring anything that the press said about you. You listened to Tony’s suggestion and turned a blind eye to any article about your boyfriend just in case it mentioned you in any way. You were struggling enough with self image without the words of journalists all fighting to get the most clicks on a story, Tony was helping you through everything and you didn’t want to jeopardize that in any way.

Things went well after that, you ignored anything that you saw about you and Tony’s relationship. And since the press already knew about you, you were free to have a normal relationship. Well, as normal as it could be when you’re dating a famous billionaire and superhero. Anytime you did something in public there was the risk of the press writing about it, but Tony’s nonchalance about the entire affair rubbed off on you and you allowed yourself to turn a blind eye.

Well, most of the time.

Sometimes, when Tony was away and you were left to your own devices for a while, it was hard not to go on social media and glance at the headlines that were advertised all over your feed, some of the articles seemed kinder than others, and some just seemed to be going for that dramatic effect. Those were the hardest ones to see, those were the ones that unraveled all of the work you had put into loving yourself. And you tried not to read them, you really did, but sometimes you weren’t all that successful.

Tonight was one of those nights, Tony had some Avengers meeting and would be away for a few days. He had invited you to come with him but you had declined, you always felt out of place in those meetings, surrounded by heroes more perfect than you could ever be. Captain America was genetically modified for perfection, Black Widow was trained from infancy to reach that level of perfection, and Tony had built himself into a perfect hero with his iron man suit. It was hard not to feel self conscious around all of that.

Though perhaps you should have gone with him, as you sat in the bedroom you and Tony shared at his Malibu estate. The window was open, allowing the warm night breeze to flow through. It was a beautiful evening, you should have been outside enjoying yourself, perhaps sitting on the beach and watching the stars, but instead you were sitting on the bed looking at your laptop, staring at one of the not-so-nice articles that had popped up on your screen. You hadn’t even clicked into it, but the title and thumbnail was enough to fill you with a wave of insecurity.

You had to force yourself to tear your eyes away from it and put the device on the edge of the bed. You swung your legs off of the side and stood, stretching out your arms and allowing a deep sigh to escape from your lungs. You should have taken his advice to block out those articles from appearing, but it was too late for that now. You rubbed a hand along your face, feeling more emotionally tired than anything else, and decided you needed some water and a bit of a walk around the house to clear your mind.

So that’s exactly what you did, after shaking out your legs which had started to fall asleep from how you had positioned yourself on the bed, you headed downstairs to get some lemon water from the kitchen. However you were confused when you heard the soft sound of music coming from the living room. Wondering if you had forgotten to turn something off, you changed your path and headed there instead.

And there was Tony, a piece of paper in his left hand and a small box in the other. He seemed to be reading over a speech of some kind which was unusual to you as you had never known him to actually prepare a speech in advance, usually able to come up with something magnificent on the spot, even with cameras and microphones pointed at him. His eyeline raised and caught on you as you stood at the edge of the room and he quickly shoved the paper into his pocket and got on one knee, opening the box.

“Y/N,” he paused to remember the words he had just been rereading for what felt like the hundredth time, and yet seeing you illuminated by the dim lighting of the moon and the stars that filtered in through the large windows, he forgot it all. “I had a whole speech prepared for this, of how I love you so much and all of that sappy stuff. But, it all boils down to the question of… will you marry me?”

You were stunned into silence as you watched him, the seconds seemed to tick by as he waited for your response, a grin still placed upon his face. But you weren’t in the best mindset right now, the image of that headline and thumbnail plastered in your mind. What were you supposed to say? You knew what he wanted you to say, he wouldn’t have asked the question if he wanted you to decline, but how could you say yes? How could you ever be good enough for the Tony Stark?

Your silence and stillness was broken as you took a step back, shaking your head. You couldn’t bring yourself to say the word ‘no’ but by the way the inventor’s face fell you knew he got the message. “I’m sorry, Tony…”

You turned on your heels and rushed back up the stairs, unable to look at him any longer. Unable to offer him an explanation as you weren’t sure you could even get the words out. Tears rolled down your face as your mind was flooded with thoughts you hadn’t dared to allow for a long time. But your insecurity was like a bucket of water, catching drips of self doubt. That bucket had slowly been filling up over the past two years but the last drop that had been placed by that stupid article was what caused it to overflow, your tears were only proof of that.

Tony had to admit that wasn’t the reaction he had been expecting from you, not in the slightest. He had been expecting tears, of course, but one of joy as you proclaimed that you loved him too and would be delighted to marry him. He shoved the box into his pocket and followed after you, he would accept your denial of his proposal but he couldn’t leave you to be upset on your own, what kind of man would that make him?

He followed you up to the bedroom that you both shared but you had locked yourself in the ensuite bathroom before he could stop you. “Y/N, hey, come on, love, talk to me,” he begged, knocking on the door. But he received no response from you. He sighed and ran a hand over his face, trying to think of if he had done something wrong. Then he saw it, the laptop still placed on the bottom of the bed, screen glowing in the darkness of the room. He paused, looking at the door and considering what he should do. But he figured that you wouldn’t be opening it any time soon and so he stepped away to see what you were looking at. Immediately he knew why you were so upset, seeing the headline and the image plastered across the width of your screen, a pop-up ad for one of those gossip companies that existed only in the depths of the internet. He knew about your struggles with confidence and self worth, and he was able to use his genius mind to put two and two together.

He closed the tab on the screen and then closed the laptop, not wanting you to see that again. He walked over to the bathroom door and knocked softly. “Y/N, my love, I know what the world says about you sometimes, how cruel they can be,” he began, resting his hand against the door, his face inches away from it and his eyes closed. “But as I close my eyes and I think of perfection, all I see is you, every part of you, no exceptions. My entire career I’ve tried to make something perfect but never would I be able to make anything that could compare to the perfection of you. We don’t have to get married, but please, please, come out here so I can hold you. I love you, Y/N, all of you. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

There was a pause, that agonizing silence as Tony tried to figure out if you believed him or if you could even hear him, there was a chance you were tuning him out and he truly was just talking to a door. But then he heard the click of the lock and stepped back as the door opened to reveal his beauty.

“How can you say that, Tony?” You asked, your voice shaking as you wiped tears from your face, your eyes were red from crying and you sniffled.

Tony lay his hand on your cheek, wiping away a stray tear with his thumb and smiling softly at you, it was the kind of smile that seemed to be reserved for you and only you. It wasn’t some cocky grin or a smartass smirk, it was just… Tony. “Because I mean it, my love. Because, whatever I do, I will never find or make anything as perfect as you.”

You shook your head and closed your eyes, finding yourself unable to look at him, unable to face him. A shaking sigh fell past your lips as you exhaled and tried to think of how to articulate your thoughts to him. “The rest of the world doesn’t seem to agree with you, Stark,” you pointed out in a quiet tone.

Tony chuckled and stepped towards you, pressing a tender kiss onto your forehead. “Maybe not, but I do pride myself on being the smartest man in the world. They don’t call me a genius for nothing, you know.”

And there he was, the Tony that you knew so well. The confidence that he had in himself, that he had in you. And a smile slowly came onto your lips and you nodded a bit at his words. “Then… yes.” You told him, opening your eyes to look up at him.

For a moment he looked confused, an eyebrow raised. “Yes?” He repeated, asking for clarification on what exactly you were agreeing to.

“I’ll marry you, Tony Stark,” you said, leaning into the warmth of his hand and reaching out with your own to hold his free one, giving it a gentle squeeze.

And his smile grew, one that was bright and warm and reserved only for the two of you at that moment. “See what I mean? Perfect. I love you, Y/N Stark.” He said, tilting up your face and pressing a soft, chaste kiss onto your lips.

“I love you too, Tony Y/L/N.” You countered as you looked up at him, your red eyes now filled with love and happiness instead of doubt and despair.

Tony chuckled at your response. “Touché.”

You simply nodded and pulled him closer. “Now, kiss me properly this time?” You asked sweetly, pulling him close to you.

A grin passed his face and he nodded, leaning towards you. Before your lips met in a kiss he spoke, keeping his tone soft and his warm breath fanned across your face, “As you wish, my perfect fiancée.”

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[wienerbarnes]

A Certain Romance (2/6)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 1,685

Warnings: not rlly anything

A/N: a lil bit of a deeper dive for these two’s relationship👀... enjoy!

MAIN MASTERLIST | A CERTAIN ROMANCE MASTERLIST

Your apartment is nice. Very you.

Sam invited him out to some restaurant, but after the last one he suggested, he decided to pass. And when Sam asked him what he was doing instead, if he was seeing you, Bucky lied and said yes. It made Sam happy and got him out of going to another ridiculous restaurant, so he saw it as a win-win.

Once Sam left, though, his thoughts did drift to what you were doing.

You two exchanged numbers at the pizza place after your date, but you two haven’t texted much. He texted you making sure you got home safe, which you did, and a day or so after, you texted him a picture of some advertisement with an awfully cheesy pick-up line written on it, which even he agreed was awful.

But that’s about it. So, he texts you.

Hey. What are u doing?

About to make dinner. Y?

Told Sam I was seeing u. Wanna hang out?

Come over.

Simple enough, he thinks.

You two haven’t had the most meaningful text conversations, clearly, but it’s still nice. No flirting, no typing and retyping messages in order to hook, line, and sinker, no ghosting. No relationship texting.

It was a dream for him. To have a new friend. He’s made plenty of friends, both in New York and in Wakanda. But it’s all under the same… umbrella. Always an agent, a fighter, an analyst of some sort. Someone to train with, to fight with, to fight for. Never someone like you. Someone that works a mundane job and lives in a mundane part of New York where her weekends are filled with going on mundane blind dates or otherwise cooking dinner for one.

It’s a breath of fresh air to not talk about fighting or missions or press or media or anything else he has to hear about at work. The only connection you have with Sam is that you met in a coffee shop a few years ago that has since closed down. He was one of your first friends here.

You could care less about Captain America, too. Which hurts Sam’s ego, and in turn, makes Bucky smile.

So, he goes over to yours.

He’s not sure what you’re making, but he brings a bottle of red wine as a courtesy. You are making dinner after all. Besides, women love wine, right?

Your apartment is nice. Very you.

Enough going on to show that someone does indeed live here, but also enough to show that you’re not exactly swimming in riches, like most people that live in this city.

The place smells like garlic and basil, and he’s glad that he brought the wine.

Shoes discarded at the door, he helps chop up the rest of the ingredients while you put a pot of water to boil. He chops up mushrooms, onion, pancetta, eyeing the bottle of vodka out on the table and tube of tomato paste next to his hand.

It's an understatement to say he’s excited. Most of the pasta he makes is from a bag of precooked noodles and a jar of tomato sauce.

Basic small talk floats through the air as the two of you dance around one another in the kitchen. Even though you’re “dating”, you don’t know much about each other. This isn’t too uncommon from how dating was for Bucky when he was a teenager; you’d marry women knowing very little about them.

Your favorite color is orange. You played violin in grade school. You had a childhood dog named Chowder. Bucky tells you his favorite color is green. He played a little bit of piano when he was younger, but did boxing in his late teens and early twenties before the war. You poke fun at him when he can’t remember the name of his own childhood dog.

“He’s probably rolling over in dog-heaven.”

“Good boy; he’d deserve a treat.”

You laugh.

Easy conversation continues on the couch as bowl after bowl of pasta is eaten and replenished. As fun and seemingly simple questions are asked, like each of your favorite movies or whether or not you pour the milk before the cereal, the room that’s left is used for deeper questions.

“What’s your most embarrassing moment?” You ask him.

He thinks for a moment before opening his mouth, only to close it again. “One time when Princess Shuri was fixing my arm it wasn’t secure completely, so it flew off while I was playing with some of the children.”

“That’s not your most embarrassing moment. I know it’s not, now you have to tell me what it really is.” You tease him.

He’s never been the best liar.

“You’re right, it’s not my most embarrassing moment. My actual most embarrassing moment is just kind of… sad. And I didn’t want to ruin the mood or anything.” He explains, hoping you’ll accept that but instead you give him an encouraging smile to hopefully give him some comfort that whatever it is he wants to tell you is safe in your apartment.

“Okay, uhm. So, in the 40’s, after I was rescued by Steve, but before we shipped out again where I was recaptured for the second and final time. We were all holed up in this little dance club, all the soldiers and their gals. And in walks Peggy Carter in a pretty red dress,” He begins, only glancing at your eyes periodically as if to make sure you’re still there.

“I know she’s Steve’s gal, he told me all about her. I wasn’t flirting with her because I wanted her, I was flirting with her… to make sure I still could. I mean, after being held in that… place… they injected me with stuff, told me things that weren’t true, I mean Steve told me I was repeating my number over and over again when he found me, I didn’t even remember doing that. I felt… violated, used, not like myself. I felt like I wasn’t me anymore.

“So, when Peggy walked in, I thought about how everyone always called me a ladies man, how good I was with women, I mean, I’d take girls out about every damn weekend, you know? I wanted to feel normal, so I flirted with her, tried to get her to dance with me. And she completely ignored me. She never even took her eyes off of Steve. It’s like I was invisible. And it just sort of felt like the nail in the coffin for whoever James Barnes was before the war. It was a realization that I’m never going to be that person again. And it was embarrassing for me.” He explains.

He hasn’t looked up at you again, but he heard your fork stop moving around your bowl a minute or so ago. He feels a lump in his throat thinking about that time, how he knew he’d never get back the man he was, even before knowing what was in store for him after falling off that train. How he used to be this man that wanted a long, happy marriage, six or seven kids running around a big backyard, a white picket fence surrounding a big two-story house in a neighborhood of identical homes. He wanted the cheesy life, at one point. But the same man that wanted that life died falling off a train many years ago.

All of that’s forgotten, though, when you open your mouth, and seem to say the perfect thing to make him feel better.

“One time in the third grade, this girl pulled my skirt down in front of my crush, and I wasn’t wearing any undies.”

A snort escapes his throat as you, somehow, after he’s shared something so deeply personal, something he never even told Steve or Sam about, still found a way to make him laugh. Which is what he wanted, he realizes. The comfort of moving on from that confession and not having to wallow in it like other people would try to. His hand leaves his fork to cover his face as tears threaten to leak out from how hard he’s laughing.

He took that secret to the grave, even if it wasn’t his own. He told himself he’d never tell Steve about how he felt in that situation, and he never did. He never told Steve that he didn’t enlist, either. He couldn’t imagine how Steve would’ve felt knowing that the army would’ve rather taken men that didn’t want to go to war, men who were terrified to go to war, had too much to lose and wanted to be selfish and stay home, than men like Steve who would do anything to enlist. Including lying on the damn enlistment form.

He wonders if Steve is looking at him now. Watching over him as he shares something that he never did with his best friend, with you, a girl he’s met barely a week ago, on your couch over bowls of pasta while he points out leftover sauce on the corner of your lip.

“What’s your greatest fear?” He asks you next.

“Dying alone. Actually, no. Getting kidnapped, probably.”

“Oh, mine’s spiders.” He shares.

It’s so easy to laugh with you, he finds. He jokes with Sam a lot, all the bickering and teasing all in good fun at the end of the day, and it’s mostly pretty funny. But laughing with you. He feels like a teenager again. Somehow, everything is funny; he doesn’t remember the last time he’s laughed so much, especially about things that aren’t even that funny.

It’s raining at the end of the night. Early morning, rather.

“You can take the couch, if you’d like.”

“Nah, I don't mind a little rain, and I like the ride home.” He fed Alpine before he left, but he imagines his cat misses him, even if she’s probably busy licking herself to even notice he’s left.

“Suit yourself.”

You don’t push him. A simple pleasure that’s more of a luxury for him. There’s no pushing or convincing or Are you sure’s with you.

Certainly a luxury, you are.

[bearsinpotatosacks]

In Little Ways (Everything Stays)

Sam and Bucky are at the Second Anniversary of the Battle of Earth Party, seven years since Thanos won and two years since they defeated him, when they hear crying

Contains major spoilers for No Way Home. Takes place a few months after No Way Home and 2 years after Endgame. Title from Everything Stays from Adventure Time.

Sam heard the music drift away as he walked away from the main hall. Even if he hadn't seen most of those people in almost two years, he was getting tired of answering the same questions for hours. What have you been doing since the blip? How's being Captain America? He knew they meant well but his mind was turning to mush giving out the same responses.

Footsteps followed him. He sighed, it wasn't like he didn't want to be bothered, Sam was a sociable person, but the last time he saw these people, they were fighting the biggest threat they ever had. It was difficult to be reminded with every sentence what they'd lost, even if they'd gained much.

Sam stopped to see who was following him, "Oh, Bucky, it's just you,"

"Just me?" He caught up to him. "You hoping for someone else?"

"No, I thought it could've been a threat,"

"I can be a threat if you want me to be,"

Sam sighed and fixed the lapels of his suit jacket. He didn't know where he was walking, perhaps he could find a quiet room to sit in while he waited for the party to end.

The party was taking place at the New York Sanctum. Sam looked at the wooden wall panels, the thick scent of old books and strange artifacts, this place had a sense of calm. Part of him, the curious side, was happy to finally explore it after only hearing about it for so long.

He stopped in another, more narrow hallway, just away from the loft space filled with bookshelves and opened to the world with a circular window. Bucky stopped next to him.

"Do you hear that?"

"Yeah, it sounds like-" Bucky started.

"Crying?"

They stood and listened for a moment to see where the sound was coming from. It was down the hall, where the rooms got smaller and the calming atmosphere soon turned claustrophobic.

"Come on, it's this way," Sam said.

He gestured for Bucky to follow. Who could be crying? He hadn't taken note of everyone at the party, but the few people he did remember seemed to be happy. Although, appearing happy and feeling happy were two different things.

They stopped at the end of the corridor, the crying was slightly louder here. Sam hesitated when he reached for the door handle. He turned to look at Bucky, who only nodded at him to go on. He couldn't say why he was so hesitant. Part of him was waiting for something to happen, with all the most famous heroes, on Earth and from space, it was guaranteed. But he had to remind himself that not everything was a threat. It was a dangerous headspace to enter, especially as a hero. 

He grasped the handle and opened the door. All his anxiety flew out of the window as he looked down at the source of the crying.

It was a kid, no older than eighteen. His knees were bent against his chest as he squished himself into the cupboard sized bathroom. A few stray brown hairs scattered over his forehead. He stopped himself from hiccuping another sob when he looked at the two men in the doorway. His red rimmed eyes staring directly at them.

"Er, hello," he said.

"Hi," Sam replied. "Wait, who are you?"

This seemed to be a touchy question as the delayed sob escaped. He lowered his head and rested it against his knees. More tears slid onto his cheeks.

"Didn't mean to offend you, I just didn't see you at the party,"

The kid shook his head, "It's alright, I was there, just that no one knew I was," he grabbed some tissue from the holder and blew his nose. "I should be used to it by now but every time it hurts."

Sam and Bucky looked at each other. Were they supposed to know who this kid was?

"That's awfully cryptic," Sam said.

"Yeah, sorry,"

"Don't apologise, you're upset, want to tell us why?"

The kid turned the used tissue in his hand and gazed back at Sam. He nodded and shoved himself further into the cupboard-sized bathroom to make room for him.

Sam, now settled in an equally uncomfortable position, took a deep breath. "You said that no one knows who you are, it seems to have made you pretty upset, care to tell us who you are? Because to us you're just some random kid who snuck into an Avengers' party and had a breakdown,"

The kid chuckled amongst the tears and tried to shuffle as much as he could.

"I'm Peter Parker,"

Sam looked at Bucky, maybe he knew that name. Bucky just shrugged.

"Of course, you have no idea who that is, no one does anymore," he said. "Although, I'm not sure you two knew my real name before all this anyway."

"You're being cryptic again,"

"Oh, yeah, sorry,"

The kid reached for something on the floor, between his legs. He stretched it out in his hands and slid it onto his head. It was the Spiderman mask.

"Oh, you're Spiderman," Sam said.

"Yeah, I remember you, the whole 'talking too much in a fight' thing makes sense now," Bucky added, gesturing to Peter's age.

Peter laughed again and took the mask off.

"Why are you so sad that no one knows you then, we know you're Spiderman, were we supposed to know your non-superhero name?" Sam said.

"No, you weren't, it was just wishful thinking,"

Sam waited a beat for him to carry on, but when he didn't, he stepped up again to speak. Bucky had yet to say too much that was constructive, he guessed he was leaving the heartfelt conversations to Sam, he was more qualified. 

"Okay, stop being cryptic for a second and just tell us what happened. After everything we've been through, nothing's too crazy,"

Peter nodded. He took a few deep breaths and began.

"Do you guys remember that Mysterio guy?"

Sam nodded, "Yeah, he said you were responsible for all those attacks,"

"Well, initially, he gave away that I was Peter Parker, to the entire world,"

"That must've been rough,"

"It was, I was getting paint thrown at me, me and my aunt's apartment was surrounded at all times by paparazzi," he said. "But it wasn't just me, my girlfriend and best friend were both harassed too, we all got declined by M.I.T. just because I was Spiderman and they were associated with me"

"So, I went to Dr Strange to see if he could make it so Mysterio never revealed who I was, that was too dangerous, so we decided to make everyone forget that Peter Parker is Spiderman. But I kept on interrupting the spell when he was casting it, so instead of making everyone forget that I was Spiderman, it brought in everyone who knew I was Spiderman, from every universe,"

He looked at them for a response but got nothing. Sam knew better than to interrupt someone's flow while they were talking, particularly when it was about something painful.

"So, I had to find all the bad guys that had entered our world, but I found out that they all die fighting me, so me, my friends and my aunt set to solve the problems that made them bad guys, and I had to hide it from Dr Strange too,"

"I bet that wasn't easy," Sam interrupted.

"No, it wasn't," Peter said. "So, I helped this guy called Doc Oc get control of these robot arms he had, I made a way for this electric guy to get control of his electricity and I just made a cure for this guy, Norman, possessed by this evil, what was it called again, this evil goblin side of him, but then the goblin side came out and he convinced all the others to go against me,"

"So I told my aunt to take the goblin guy's antidote and run while I fought him, but he let off one of these grenade things he had and-" he stopped and heaved. "And my aunt and me were there when he let it off and-and-"

He shook his head and rocked back and forth. Sam placed an arm around his shoulders and pulled him into a hug. This was a strange experience, he didn't really like Spiderman, but seeing that he was just a kid, who had gone through so much, broke his heart slightly.

"She died because of the blast, didn't she?"

Peter nodded and took some more deep breaths. The tears made his cheeks shiny in the dull light of the bathroom.

"I left, went to the roof of my school. My friends, one of them I found out can do magic like Dr Strange, somehow managed to find two other Peter Parkers, from the same universes as the bad guys, and together they all found me and convinced me to carry on trying to fix the bad guys,"

"We lured the bad guys and fixed them until there was just the goblin guy-"

"The guy responsible for your aunt's death-" Sam input.

Peter nodded, "And I couldn't stop myself from hitting him and hitting him, I would've killed him if one of the Peters didn't stop me from making the same mistake that he did," he said. "We ended up curing him and I thought it was all over until the spell we cast, the one that made a mess out of everything in the first place, started going out of control."

He started to breathe quicker. His eyes clenched shut as more tears flooded his face. 

Sam didn't pressure him to carry on. His story sounded crazy already. He pulled him in closer to his shoulder and felt him shake as the tears poured down his face. With a few more hiccups, and a lot of nose blowing, he composed himself enough to finish the story.

"All these bad guys were coming from every universe, there was no way to stop them with the spell Dr Strange originally cast so I told him to cast a new one," he closed his eyes, readying himself for whatever he was going to say next. "I told him to make everyone forget who I was. That way, Mysterio never knew who I was, so couldn't out me, so people never harassed me as Peter, only Spiderman, so my friends' lives were never changed just by knowing me, because they didn't know me, so they got accepted into M.I.T, so there was no reason for me to go to Dr Strange to cast the initial spell, so all the issues would go away. The bad guys and the other Spidermen went, they all remembered me, but my girlfriend didn't, my best friend didn't, and now I have absolutely no one." He bowed his head and didn't try to stop his tears. 

Sam was speechless. He'd felt alone before, especially after Riley's death. The tremendous, overwhelming loneliness encased him, making it seem impossible to climb out of. But he had friends and family he could rely on. Peter didn't have that. His family were dead, he had to assume. His friends had no idea who he was. That loneliness, the cave Sam felt like he was in, Peter was actually stuck in.

Peter ripped more toilet paper from the holder and sobbed into it. His sobs became more silent as he shook. He lowered his head onto his knees and sighed. The music drifted through the small vent near the ceiling. Whirring and general background noise filled the silence as Peter sniffed.

Bucky cleared his throat and slid to the floor, taking up the doorframe. The atmosphere changed. Sam looked at him in his peripheral vision, his head was bowed also. He had the look on his face that he always got when he was about to open up about something, not the harmless things like his thoughts on Of Mice and Men or the radio broadcast of the War of the Worlds, but the darker things that plagued his mind. 

“I know how you feel,” he said simply.

Peter looked up. His eyes had stopped streaming with tears. There was a look on his face, something of hope but also interest.

“After I was proven ‘free’ of the winter soldier brainwashing, I came back to Brooklyn and everything had changed so much,” he said. “When me and Steve lived there, it was full of poor people, it was rough, but now it’s full of cafes and art exhibits."

"My apartment is nothing like the one I had with my family, I don't even think it's still there anymore, not in the same capacity, anyway," he ran a hand through his hair and his face dropped more into the lonely look Sam had only seen Steve have before. "No one I knew before is alive, and if they are then they think I'm dead, I had no one-"

"Hey! You had me,"

"Did I, Sam? Before Karli and the Flagsmashers could you honestly say we were close?" Bucky grumbled.

Sam averted his gaze, "I guess not, but I did try,"

"My only friend was an elderly man, and I was only friends with him because I felt guilty over killing his son as the Winter Soldier," 

"I didn't know you felt so alone," Sam said.

"I didn't want anyone to know," Bucky smiled at Peter. "So, you're not alone, even if it's not exactly the same, I know how it feels to have basically no one who knows you."

Peter nodded and pulled himself up. He turned on the tap and splashed water on his face, making little difference to his red complection.

Sam stood up too, "I think we should get back to the party,"

"Right, right, just give me a second,"

Peter lent over and rummaged on the floor for something. He re-emerged with his mask.

"Ready," he sniffed.

"You're going to put the mask on?" Sam asked.

"I don't really want to have that conversation fifty times,"

Sam shrugged and pushed Peter along. He continued to sniff as they got to more open parts of the Sanctum. Bucky pulled him into a side hug, which was strangely close for him, and didn't let go until he smiled through his watery eyes and red, raw face.

As they got closer to the party, when the music was beginning to pump around them, Bucky stopped them to look at Peter.

"I can't say I'll be much help, and I wouldn't do this if you weren't a kid who's going through something I know a lot about, but if you need anything, come and see me, I live in Brooklyn," Bucky said.

He told Peter his address, watched him put it in his phone and patted him on the back. Sam gave him his number. Like he'd reminded himself earlier, he wasn't Spiderman's biggest fan, but he'd been on his side when Mysterio's 'evidence' emerged and now, seeing how vulnerable Peter was, he could safely say that he wanted to help him.

Peter looked up at them while juggling his phone and his mask, he said in a quiet voice, "Thanks guys," before sliding on his mask to rejoin the party.

This goddamn film sparked something within me. The possibility for angst, the angst already in the film, the blank slate, the crossover, everything! I hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it

[blu-joons]

Chicago Visits ~ Johnny Seo

You sat nervously on Johnny’s bed as you began to hear the commotion outside as Johnny and the rest of the boys pulled up outside his home. Your hands rested in your lap as you listened out for what was going on.

It didn’t take long before you heard footsteps come up the stairs, recognising his mother’s voice first as she showed the rest of the boys around.

“Do you want to see his childhood bedroom?” She asked the group, as each of them nodded, desperate to find a little bit more about him.

“I’ll show them,” he smiled, standing in front of the rest of the group.

You watched on as the door flew open and Johnny stepped in, looking around at the photos that were on the wall until his eyes landed on you perched on his bed. “What the-“

“What is it?” Taeyong questioned, the next one stood beside him. Johnny didn’t even bother responding, walking straight over to you and lifting you up into the air.

You chuckled loudly as your arms wrapped around his neck, feeling his lips press to your cheek. “Surprise,” you whispered into his ear, brushing your hand through his short hair.

“You’re really here,” he laughed, placing you back to the ground, “please tell me I’m not dreaming.”

“You’re not dreaming,” you assured him, feeling his hands cup against your cheek. “I couldn’t say no to the opportunity to fly out and come and see you all and meet your family yet again.”

His head shook in a slight state of disbelief, “but how did you manage to organise all of this without letting me know? You usually hate flying without me, did you really fly here all by yourself?”

Your head nodded, noticing the surprise in his expression. It was a terrifying experience for you but knowing that at the end of it you’d get to see Johnny was the only thing keeping you going.

“Are you going to hog Y/N to yourself or can we all say hello to?” Taeil’s voice called out from the back of the huddle of boys, who were equally excited to see you with them in Chicago.

“I don’t plan on letting her go for a while,” Johnny called out to them all.

Your head shook, stretching out with Johnny’s arms around your waist to greet all of the boys one by one as they had a look around the room, before being pulled back quickly into Johnny’s chest, feeling his lips press to the top of your head.

Your eyes looked up at him as your hands rested against his chest, “you’ll have to let me go at some point, your mum has prepared an absolute feast downstairs.”

“I reckon I can eat with just one hand; it’ll be easy.”

A sigh escaped you as you made your way downstairs with the rest of the boys, into the back room where a large spread had been laid out. Immediately, Johnny placed you in front of him so he could make sure that you were well fed before worrying about himself. The food was something you’d heard a lot about from Johnny in the past, and you were eager to try it.

“Mum’s kimchi stew is my all-time favourite,” he whispered down to you as you began to plate up, “if you try one thing today, then make sure it’s that. I promise that you won’t be disappointed by it.”

The kimchi stew, and everything else that his mother prepared were all delicious to you as you sat around and caught up with the rest of the boys. As much as Johnny wanted to keep you to himself, the other members were eager to spend some time with you too.

“So, what’s the plan whilst you’re in Chicago?” You asked the group.

All eyes fell on Johnny, who had everything organised. “Doyoung and Mark are going to stay here with me tonight, if you want to join us for a sleepover?”

Your head nodded instantly, there was no way you were going to turn down the chance to spend a night with Johnny after so long.

“Of course, I’d love to,” you smiled back at him, finishing off your meal.

Once everything had been eaten, and the rest of the group headed back to their hotel for the night, the four of you headed out into the town, with Johnny chauffeuring you around, showing you all of the places that he grew up in. You’d visited his hometown a couple of times before, but you’d never really had the chance to explore like you did tonight.

“Have you all heard of Target?” Johnny called out as he drove out of his parent’s estate. Whilst Mark yelled that he had, you and Doyoung both shook your heads, with you especially, feeling Johnny’s glare on you.

“I think that’s our first destination sorted,” Mark called out from the back of the car.

Johnny had told you many times about Target and what a big deal it was in America. You were keen to visit one whenever you had the chance, even if you did have two of your friends tagging along with you.

As you pulled up outside the store, Johnny’s hand instinctively reached out for yours, leaving Mark and Doyoung to pick up a trolley from the car park. Your eyes darted around as soon as you walked in at the many aisles, spotting plenty of things that you wanted to pick up.

“The one thing we’re looking for is pyjamas,” he whispered across to you as you walked in, “we need new pyjamas for a proper sleepover.”

“I’m sure I’ll be able to find something.”

You knew shopping with Johnny was chaotic at the best of times, but with two of his friends with you as well, you barely managed to find anything that you wanted. In between a game of hide and seek and rock, paper, scissors, you finally left the store an hour later.

After a small tour of the city, exploring Johnny’s schools and visiting a few other stores, you pulled up back outside his family home, yawning all the way up to the front door as the events of the day finally caught back up with you.

Doyoung and Mark made their way into the spare room, you and Johnny made your way into his bedroom, the exact same place that the two of you had reunited in just twelve hours ago.

Once the two of you had changed into your new pyjamas, you collapsed back on Johnny’s bed, with his arms wrapped tightly around you. His lips pressed into the crook of your neck, pulling you as tightly as he could into your side.

“You have no idea how thankful I am that you’re here.”

Your smile grew, glancing back at him. “I just wanted to come and see you; I know you always tell me that you’re alright, but I wanted to come and see for myself.”

“I’m doing a lot better now that you’re here with me.”

Johnny spun around on his back, settling you gently on top of his chest. His head nuzzled against yours, refamiliarizing himself with every little thing about you, making the most of being able to have you back in his arms.

“How does it feel to be home?” You asked him, brushing your hands through his messy fringe. “I bet you’ve really missed it all.”

“I have,” he sighed, “but it never really feels like I’m away from home when I’ve got you with me. As nice as it is to be here with my family, to be here with you really does feel like the icing on top of the cake right now.”

Your head tilted back to look properly up at him, “I’m excited to be able to explore a bit more of your home. Chicago is a pretty exciting place after all.”

“I can’t wait to show you around Chicago, and show you more about me,” he smiled.

“I’m ready to learn everything there is to know.”

---

Masterlist

[creativeashproductions]

A Distant Dream V // Luke Patterson

Summary: In 1994 seventeen-year-old Luke Patterson had once again tried to ask out the girl that held his heart. With the belief he would see the younger Mercer girl the next morning he decides to wait confess his feelings. Only to have soft music bewitched the reader into an antique wardrobe with lots of history.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, heartbreak, fluff, talk of death and fluff.

Words: 4.4k

A/N: We’ve come to the end of the Distant Dream mini-series. I truly enjoyed writing this with my whole heart. @merceret I told you I’d use Lucy’s Cordial somewhere in the series. All parts are located in the linked masterlist.

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Masterlist

The massive changes between the ’90s and 2021 slowly but surely started no longer seemed startling as it had been at first. Carlos had helped you assimilate to homeschooling once he’d admitted he knew about the boys. Ray was still kept in the dark. 

2020 ended on a high note. Mostly. With the years in Narnia providing you with the knowledge you flew through schooling. Then you took a job as a waitress at a coffee shop, one similar to the shop the band performed in. The downside to the end of the year was for the band.

Despite performing at the Orpheum, the band hadn’t received as much traction as Luke had desired. They were a step closer to the dream but not as far as the entire band had wished. During Julie’s Christmas break, Luke had overworked the band with little breaks.

“Hide me.” Julie hissed from behind the counter of Ancient Grounds. The Puerto Rican musician escaped the studio to have lunch with you.

Unfortunately, Julie failed to see that without the entire band together, Luke would go to what makes him just as happy. You. That’s precisely what happened as Luke walked in through the entrance of the coffee shop.

“He’s still pushing more practice?” You asked, stacking the clean mugs on the shelf with complete focus. How odd it is to go from being Queen to working in a city as a waitress.

“I love him like a brother, but I feel like my fingers are gonna fall off from playing the piano constantly.” Julie sighed, sliding down the counter to sit on the floor hidden from the approaching guitarist and from your manager.

“Hey!” Luke grinned once his hands fell on the counter to lean over on the balls of his feet. His lips pressed against your right cheek before he fell back onto his feet.

Not a single soul in the half-full Ancient Grounds batted an eye to your awkward stance when Luke kissed you. Not since the boys had become tangible and visible to the general public when they wanted. 

“Look to decide to grace me with his presence.” You teased. Your foot nudged Julie in her thigh to urge her to crawl to the end of the counter.

“I have no clue where Julie is. Reggie dipped to join Ray in his errands, and Alex is somewhere.” Luke shrugged, stepping aside when an older gentleman dropped a tip in the jar before leaving.

“Pick a number.” You told the male with one of your dimples on display.

“Eleven,” Luke responded, bouncing on the balls of his feet at the regular game you played together.

Each visit, you’d split a dessert from the menu with Luke along with his favourite mug of tea and your drink of choice; even he knew he didn’t need caffeine with his energy. That was Luke’s favourite thing of being brought half alive from the golden glow they’d received. You were sure Reggie had cried upon eating your Tia’s best recipe.

“Nanaimo Bar Cheesecake. A limited-edition from our Worldwide Treat menu. It’s Canada’s month.” 

Luke followed to the counter’s end, where the sweets were kept on a glass viewing shelf. With careful movements, you slid a perfect triangle of the cheesecake onto a beautiful plate. The half-ghost retrieved it to your favourite spot in the garden patio. Julie used the time to sneak out the door with Luke’s back to her.

“What is a Nanaimo Bar?” Luke questioned upon you joining him at the iron-wrought table. One teacup accompanied by a teapot with Luke’s tea and a mug of your drink on an emerald tray.

“It’s a no-bake dessert. The base is a chocolate graham cracker and coconut base with the middle layer a cream filling. The top layer is a thin layer of semi-sweet chocolate.” 

Luken nodded, “Ancient Grounds loves cheesecakes.”

“Addie adores inventing new versions of cheesecake. Her best is the Creamsicle Cheesecake during the summer. A staple on the menu.” You responded with a twinkle in your eye. You may not look like the Queen you once were, but you were just as invested in learning about people as you’d done with the Narnians.

“What’s your favourite dessert?” Luke questioned.

“I’m pretty partial to the chocolate cookies Addie makes.” You grinned, leaning closer to the male across from you. You hesitated in continuing, “In Narnia, the pastry chef Cair Paravel employed always had these gorgeous desserts with Edmund in mind. Turkish Delights with a secret ingredient.”

Luke’s smile grew as you talked about the other home you had. A place you rarely spoke about now. You hadn’t even returned to the basement to see the wardrobe like you had before.

“I wish I could have seen Cair Paravel. It always sounds so magical when you talk about it.” Luke’s tone was wistful paired with the twinkle of his hazel eyes.

“It’s a breathtaking place. Everything is lively in Narnia, and after the Witch was defeated, we ruled peacefully for the most part.” Your e/c eyes unfocused on your surroundings to recall all the wonderful times spent in Narnia.

The times you shared a table with Mr. and Mrs. Beaver in their home over the years snacking on the homemade jams. To the times you listened to Mr. Tumnus playing everchanging lullabies on his flute. Even walking the beaches with Lucy in hopes of catching sight of Aslan again. Of gossiping with Susan over the many suitors that came for her hand.

“If you could do it all over again knowing the outcome, would you still do it?” Luke questioned with a tilt of his head. He’d shed the flannel jacket as the sun rose higher in the sky.

You nodded, “Absolutely. The Pevensies were some of the greatest friends one could ever hope to have.”

As usual, Peter wasn’t spoken of in light of the ache that resonated in your heart and the awkwardness Luke felt. A poor choice of avoiding your once husband instead of communicating on the topic.

“Have you ever thought of trying to find them?”

“No point. Peter would be ninety-seven now as the oldest, and Lucy would be eighty-nine. If I recall, it was 1940 for them when we went to Narnia. It’s possible Peter may have joined the war in ’42 when he was eighteen, so who knows if he lived.” Luke was surprised by the nonchalant reaction to the potentially grim outlook on your former in-laws.

However, Luke knew the truth, that you greatly missed the four people who became family during your disappearance. You could fool Julie and Reggie, but you could never fool Alex or Luke no matter how much you tried.

“I’ll see you at home? My break ended.” You swiftly cut off any more talking of your former life. Luke merely watched as you stacked the dirty dishes, only leaving Luke’s cup and teapot.

“I should get back. Julie’s most likely back in the garage from sneaking back.” Luke’s hand pushed through his messy curtain of brunette hair. His words revealing that he’d known Julie had been in Ancient Grounds the entire time.

“How’d-”

“When she sits on the floor, she taps the heel of her shoe on the floor. Same rhythm.” Luke smirked as he chugged the last of the tea, “Don’t tell her. I like when she fights a smug smile with that certain light in her eyes.”

The brotherly role Luke had taken on with the Molina girl was heartwarming, to say the least. Sometimes Julie would begrudgingly ask for advice about her feelings for Nick to Luke’s amusement. He adored being able to tease her.

“I’ll see you later.” 

The boy dropped the correct change for the tea on his way out the door into the bright sunlight. Like clockwork, he’d turn into the alley to become intangible to poof back to the studio. 

The rest of the day passed by like a breeze in the coffee shop with the late lunch rush and then the dinner rush the busiest time. Jess gave you a ride home in her truck as usual with a promise of a cupcake of Julie’s as payment.

“Did you see him?” 

The sudden voice startled you so much your hand couldn’t help but grasp at empty air by your side. Alex screeched as you swung to face him on the Molina driveway.

“Alex! Good Aslan, you startled me.”

“...were you reaching for a sword?” Alex questioned, appalled by your reaction. Your e/c eyes rolled in response.

“Isn’t the saying old habits die hard?” You prodded the baby blue of Alex’s long sleeve shirt. One of the shirts you’d often stolen from him, “And no. I didn’t see Willie.”

Your heart clenched as soon as Alex’s shoulders dropped in defeat once more at the absence of the skater. It had been months now with little sightings of the skater you had yet to meet. The boys kept your presence on the down-low to avoid Caleb’s interest.

“I hope he’s okay,” Alex muttered under his breath. The elder Mercer began gnawing his lower lip in worry.

Gently you interlaced your hand with his hand, his deft fingers playing with the braided bracelets on your wrist. The bracelets had been a Christmas gift from Julie and Flynn with the colours of the sunrise. It grounded Alex more often than not.

“You told me the Club travels around the world. Maybe Caleb’s not in America; maybe his ego needs to recover from his loss.” You shrugged, tugging the teenager into the house. Ray barely waved from his work computer.

Ray Molina had welcomed Alex, Reggie and Luke into the family when he met them in person the day after the Orpheum performance. He’d accepted that Alex was your older brother and had been in Switzerland for boarding school. He understood that Luke and Reggie came as a package deal with Alex, so the boys had worked to clean out the basement.

A few visits to second-hand doors brought furniture for the basement renovated into the boys’ shared suite. Alex still spent most nights in your room; he still feared you'd disappear from his life again.

“I hope you’re right.” Alex muttered in false hope that something would go his way for once, “Oh! The band received an invitation to some underground music festival in England during spring break. We’re hoping to convince Ray and Julie’s aunt to let us go.”

And you could see the band practices would be growing for that breakthrough with the band. And you were correct in your guess merely hours after going to sleep.

At five in the damn morning, Luke burst into your attic bedroom to drag your less than enthusiastic brother from his sleep. You bet your ass you hit the teen in the face with your pillow, which meant you had to crawl out of bed to retrieve the pillow.

“Asshole!” Alex exclaimed as Luke roughly poofed both of them to the studio. Julie swaying sleepily in her sweater and pyjama pants, waiting for the two.

Spring Break 2021 (March 26-April 2)

The youngest member of the tourists proudly displayed her smile, catching sight of the bed and breakfast in the English countryside. Julie had been floored when Ray had given his permission to the foreign festival. 

Ray couldn’t hide his excitement for the band, plus all-expense paid, receiving the invite via a relatively small record company. 

“First birthday back together,” Luke spoke from your side. Hands intertwined together in the cool wind of England. His arms were covered by his flannel coat in the unfavourable weather of the day.

You hummed, “Never thought I’d be celebrating my seventeenth birthday in England during 2021. Besides, I’ve already been seventeen.”

“I always knew I’d bring you to all the countries in the world.” Luke’s tone was matter of fact, staring at the stage being built under a woman’s guidance in her mid-30s.

The bed and breakfast had a lovely history your tour guide Martin had enthusiastically told on the train ride from the city. 

The man with spry greying hair pointed towards the old train station providing facts that interested most of the group. Luke’s arm tossed over your shoulder focused on the songbook, a new one, open in lap. Luke and you had slowly but surely evolved from shy brushes of skin to holding hands and then Luke’s arm over your shoulder. Chaste kisses on cheeks while you reassimilated into the dating world.

“In 1940, this train station deployed countless trains filled with evacuating children away from London during the Blitz. Filled with returning soldiers, mothers sending children to safety and children were torn from all they knew. Each child had a tag to identify them.” Martin explained intently, speaking to the group his organization had assigned him to.

“Where did they go?” Reggie curled into the travel blanket he’d bought specifically for the trip.

“Anywhere safe for them and where they could be cared for.”

“This route is one of many the evacuations used. The bed and breakfast we’re heading to holds a great history as well. It was once the Manor of Professor Digory Kirke during his life and passed down through generations throug-”

Martin’s story faded into the black abyss as sleep took you over by the soothing motion of the train and Luke’s warmth. Luke met the gaze of Alex. The two guys shared a sweet smile solely for the relaxed features of the younger Mercer.

“This is just another step in our journey for Julie and the Phantoms.” Your words warmed Luke Luke when he noticed you cemented your position in his life. You saw yourself in the future of Julie and the Phantoms as a faithful supporter and friend.

“Luke Patterson, correct? I’m Eva.” Your eyes widened, meeting the eyes that reminded you of someone. Just on the tip of your tongue, “My wife Diana will be a few minutes. We’re still getting the stage put together.”

“It’s so nice to meet you. How many people are you expecting?” Luke questioned the older woman. His mind snapped into business mode for the band.

“This is our fourth year putting on the festival at this location. This is the first year we added a wild card option for fans to vote on. Your band rocketed ahead of the other bands.” Eva explained, keeping her eyes on the woman you dubbed as Diana. The pure love in Eva’s eyes is a call to the yearning in your chest.

“I thought a recor-”

“Technically, yes, a record company flew you out. Diana started a small record label a few years back. Cair Oom Records. She’s the first person in both our families to step into a non-traditional career.” Eva explained to the now interesting young couple.

Luke was interested in the record label’s history, whereas you focused on the label’s name. Cair Oom. A call to your Narnia days you remembered. 

“Cair Oom?” You interrupted the conversation in pure curiosity. Your eyes drinking in the features of Eva, her freckles and brown eyes mirroring a person from your past.

“The label name?” Eva continued once you nodded in response, “It’s from a childhood story my family passed down. Diana was close to my great-aunt before we moved out here to run the bed and breakfast.”

“Of a dream of a dream. Spare Oom.” It was whispered in the breeze straight in your ear of a voice you vividly recalled—the disembodied voice with the same freckles as Eva but with chocolate brown hair instead of strawberry blonde.

“Y/N? You coming?” Luke’s concerned hazel eyes bore into your distant ones wandering the hills of the property. You hadn’t even noticed Eva leaving towards the Manor.

Your e/c eyes search for the owner of the youthful voice but come up empty. The only people you saw included your group with the odd workers setting up under Diana’s supervision.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Luke stepped right up in front of you, “You’ve been out of it since Eva mentioned the record label.”

“I’m fine. I’ll be right back.” You mumbled, following the woman up the path. Luke stared lost as you disappeared into the door. Eva entered.

The woman stood outside a door within the home, “I never knew what she meant. Not until I saw you Y/N.”

Your foot stumbled back when Eva turned with a soft smile you vividly recalled on a certain Pevensie. Eva unlocked the door to a room with only a picture hung on the wall.

“Narnia.” You breathed, stepping right up to the detailed painting of Cair Paravel. Your fingers tracing the beautiful frame holding it up.

“Correct. My Great-Aunt, in her adult life, adored painting in her past time. It was rare she told Narnian stories, but my mother loved them so much she told them to me as a child.

“Who’s your-”

“My name is Lucy Eva Baker. I was named after my other Great-Aunt, but I prefer going by Eva.” Eva’s words pulled a deep gasp from your throat. Tears building as the truth settled in the room.

Eva shared the same smile and brown eyes as Edmund Pevensie did, even the mature aura wrapped around her. The maturity Edmund had grown into during the fifteen years in Narnia. Without a shadow of a doubt, Eva Baker was the granddaughter of your former brother-in-law.

“Your-”

“Edmund’s granddaughter.” Eva finished with a sympathetic smile, “You featured heavily in each story. I always knew Narnia wasn’t merely a story.”

And then the conversation stuttered when you finally noticed Eva spoke mostly of learning of everything by her mom and Susan. Not a mention passed Edmund being her granddad. A piece of your heart broke, and it seemed the older woman saw it happen.

“W-what happened to…” You couldn’t even choke the question out in the room. Eva’s hand reached out to grasp yours in her own hand.

“I can’t tell you much as that reason that will become clear but in 1949 just shortly before my mom was born there was an accident. Grandpa Edmund and Peter were waiting for the train at the station. The train wrecked, killing the train occupants and many people in the station.” Eva was quick to catch you as a piercing grief-stricken scream exploded in the room.

In the Manor’s tea room, the band and Ray enjoyed a genuine tea time with Diana. Ray and Diana traded stories of their young sons while Reggie restrained himself to savour the food. English tea time begging for genuine manners.

Luke raised his cup to lips before it dropped to the saucer upon an exploding anguished wail from upstairs. Thankfully the cup didn’t break as the American guitarist sprung himself in the direction of the wails—Alex hot on his heels with a call to his friends.

Your screaming drowned out the furious stomps of feet racing in the halls of the Manor to the entrance of the room. Luke’s heart shattered at the pure anguish coating your broken features. Alex roughly pushed his way to tug you into his arms.

Alex’s large hand cupped the back of your head while he rocked you in his arms, “Shh. Let it out.”

“No!” You screamed into Alex’s shoulder. You couldn’t acknowledge Luke’s comforting hand on your shoulder, “N-no.”

“I got you. I’m here. I’ll always be here.” Alex murmured in your ear so softly you almost didn’t catch what he said. Luke dropped to his knees by your side. The three teens unaware as Eva excused herself for your privacy. Eva had watched her great-aunt Susan break every time she spoke of her late siblings.

Seconds passed or maybe years as it seemed to happen to you. But soon, you simply rested against Alex staring at Susan’s painting. Barely blinking in the room causing you suffering. You barely responded to anyone as you battled the grief. You faded in and out of daydreams as the bands performed. Days mixed together. Time didn’t exist to you. You were aware enough when Julie and Ray invited you to shop in London.

To everyone, including your surprise, you agreed. The three half ghosts joining in fear you’d shatter again. Eva and Diana held hands watching the car disappear in the distance carrying a group of musicians. An echo of Eva’s words replacing in the back of your mind.

“Three of five drink at high tide. Four of nine and five of nine stand apart by time. A drop of Valiant’s potion will begin the time once before frozen.” 

“Are they-”

“Yes.” Eva spoke before her wife could finish the sentence, “She’ll be returning to Narnia. Decades separating her from the Pevensie siblings.”

Eva was correct. At the station, the location was painful as it was Lucy, Peter and Edmund’s last place they’d been alive. Ray disappeared to use the restroom, leaving the five teenagers to wait for the adult.

“Ouch!” You exclaimed, rubbing a spot on your arm with a grimace. Your eyes glaring at your tall older brother, “Don’t pinch me!”

Alex shook his head, “I didn’t pinch you!”

“Luke!” Reggie squealed, jumping away from the guitarist with a pout on his full lips. The bassist rubbing his stinging cheek, “These cheeks are reserved for my Grannie!”

Luke scoffed at his friend, “Why would I risk the chance of you biting off my finger Reginald?”

“We have bigger problems than whose pinching us! I’m losing my damn mind! First three himbos fall out of nowhere, then a girl trips out a magic wardrobe and now this!” Julie snapped, staring at their environment in the train station tunnel, “I need to be committed!”

You watched breathlessly as a strong gale storm literally tore pieces of the train and the walls of the station apart. Through the train windows, you watched as a bright blue sky increasingly grew. The colour is so clear and vivid in only one place you knew.

The train blew by. The wall behind you changed into stone—the floor into the sand.

“What the fuck?” Alex demanded, twirling around on the new scenery of a beach in what was supposed to be a train station. The poor male kept being thrown off-kilter since the alley in 1995.

You knew deep in your heart where you were. Especially when four people of different heights stood with their backs to you. One individual, the shortest, turns upon feeling eyes on her back. And at the same time, you spoke.

“Lucy!”

“Y/N!”

The two girls ran straight into each other’s arms sobbing in elation and relief at finally seeing each other after a long year apart. The seven additional people who joined the duo collapsed on the ground. Alex cleared his throat.

“Y/N? Are you going to intro-”

“That’s Queen Y/N.” Peter snapped towards the stranger with a pink sweater on. Peter could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen a man wear pink. 

“That’s my sister.” Alex snapped, standing at his full six-foot height, pinning a glare on the other teenager. Peter scoffed in response. His face faltering upon finding your hand encased in a male shorter than the blonde.

Without a shadow of a doubt, Peter knew this man was the unseen third person that filled every conversation and room between Peter and Y/N. Peter was very much aware that you weren’t in love with him. He lived with the knowledge for a decade, pretending it was he that you deeply loved. Seeing the person holding your heart hurt.

“This is my brother Alex Mercer and our friends Julie Molina, Reggie Peters and my...this is Luke Patterson.” You gestured to each of them; the Puerto Rican musician shell shocked. Julie now knew why that talking lion you spoke of sounded familiar. Narnia had seen one other visitor years before Julie was born.

Rose Molina’s bedtime stories for her children involved a lion named Aslan and a magical wardrobe made from a special tree. Julie recalled the feeling Narnia birthed if in the world as Rose described it. 

“Mercer as in...?” Edmund trailed off slowly.

“My horse. Yes. I guess subconsciously, I still remembered where I came from.”

“These are my friends Susan, Edmund, Lucy and...Peter.” You softly spoke of the eldest Pevensie. His blue eyes sadly meeting yours.

A fondness growing at the sight but a pain blossoming at the heartbreak in his features. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see Peter had put two and two together on who Luke was to you. And while Peter desired to fight for you, he knew it was a lost cause; time cruelly separated you outside the world of Narnia. You both deserved happiness, so with great pain, Peter let you go.

“C’mon!” Lucy shouted, racing out of the cave on the bright sunny beach. The rest hot on the heels of the youngest member of the conjoined group. As you all goofed around on the beach, you told the Pevensie family all about Julie and the boys.

“Welcome to Narnia, my love.” You murmured to the boy that held your heart in his gentle hands. Luke Patterson beamed. He finally got the girl of his dreams and visited the place you hold dear.

The fun aspect of being in Narnia with both of your family came to a halt when you discovered the ruins. Cair Paravel had become a pile of broken stone and sadness. Not a single Narnian in the distance nor the Beavers or Mr. Tumnus.

“What?”

Julie and the boys’ presence became static in the background while the former Narnia royalty pursued through the ruins. They found the chessboard and the gifts Father Christmas gave them during the Winter Revolution. 

Something clicked within Lucy as she almost robotically walked to each half-dead boy with her Cordial in hand. The room went silent as Lucy fed each phantom a drop of the medicinal potion. As soon as Alex closed his mouth, all three boys were enveloped in a blinding silver light.

And the true magic happened. For the first time in twenty-six years, three hearts began pumping blood. A previously frozen clock began beating to the sound of those hearts. The magic of Queen Lucy’s Cordial finished what Julie had started; the three formerly half head phantoms became living humans once more.

What a magical place the world of Narnia is.

(Above is the teacup and pot Luke uses in the Ancient Grounds coffee shop!)

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[littlewitchwhore]

Okay guys, here is the first short story I'm posting.

TW: Rape, murder, some gore, racism, sexism, homophobia, a critique of the southern US, and christian references.

I do not condone actual rape, murder, racism, sexism, homophobia, etc. This is just fantasy.

And now, I present

The Hunting of Sonya.

It had been three weeks since the executive order was given. Three weeks of running from abandoned shack to drainage pipe to thickets of trees where she might be safe. Three weeks of praying to whatever would listen that she not be found. Tonight, it seems her prayers might not be answered.

Whatever progress social justice and racial equality might have made in the past years has been violently set back. It started with feminist and pro-black movements constantly being undermined by themselves and their lack of cohesion. With no set leaders and ideas, no reliable code of conduct, and no unifying goals, the members had no direction for their justified anger to be aimed at, and nothing to hold them back from extreme measures. The first major riot happened a year ago, when several peaceful protesters were shot by a couple of trigger happy cops. They didn't stay peaceful.

In one of the most gruesome incidents in recent history, those two cops, and a few others with them, were overwhelmed and beaten to death. But the death of those cops was just the tip of the iceberg. Within a month, riots were taking place in every major city in America, with from people on both sides of the argument killing, and burning the homes and business of those they fought against. A civil war seemed inevitable. Then the election happened, as it does every four years, and a very conservative candidate, on a platform of returning the country to a state of peace and prosperity, undertoned with heavy racist and sexist messages, was elected by a narrow majority. Within two weeks, there were soldiers in every city to keep the peace, and strict laws were enacted severely limiting the rights of groups that were deemed to be the aggressors in the conflict; blacks and women. And the new president was cheered, because the bloodshed mostly ended. The laws and military presence, he had always said, were to be removed after a period of time, when the country was stable again.

But after several months, and a couple isolated riots, the laws were not gone. They got worse. Blacks and women stopped being able to gather in groups larger than 5. They stopped being able to purchase and own firearms. They were even stripped of properties and business, since those could be potential staging points for further violent action. Then they stopped being able to vote after a local election put a violent but charismatic thug up as mayor, who then tried to mobilize a whole town to war against the new president. Then came the executive order that stripped citizenship and all rights from blacks and women. Black people were given a week to leave the country or be deported or turned to slaves. Women fared little better, being reduced to honored servants to white men, and bargaining chips in men's deals. In a year, America had gone from the bastion of liberty and social activism to an authoritarian, patriarchal ethno-state. And the rest of the world, being crippled by their own social and economic issues, and being utterly unable to fathom summoning the military might needed to take on the United States, let it happen.

Sonya was unlucky. She had had the misfortune of residing in Louisiana when the order came down. You see, most people had the decency to let the blacks pack up their things and make for the borders and airports. Most empathized with the plight of the now refugees, even. But the south has always been a little backwards, hasn't it? Large groups of would be slavers started patrolling and detaining blacks and lone women who they could snatch up, after all, it was only illegal to do so for a week. So when Sonya and her family had made for the border, they were taken by one of these bands of slavers. Her father had been beaten mercilessly, and killed when he fought back, her younger brother put in chains, and her mother and sister were gangraped in front of her. She would have suffered the same fate, but when they went to strip her, she caught a fat one by surprise and was able to run, handcuffed and clothes torn, into the woods.

She had barely managed to stay ahead of the men chasing her. It took her three days to finally find an old shack that had a rusty saw she used to cut the chain on the cuffs, so she could use her arms, though the cuffs themselves remained tightly around her wrists. She might have been able to saw those off too, had it not been for the owner of the shed finding her. He was not sympathetic. She had actually had to kill him to escape, after he pulled a machete off the wall and tried to kill her. She didn't escape unharmed though, and her leg was badly cut. At the time, she didnt worry about it too much, since she had to get away, but after a week of running and hiding in hovels and drainpipes, she feared infection. It certainly wasn't getting any better, and was starting to smell. And her killing the man made the men chasing her all the more obsessed with finding her. Now, she wasn't just a 'little nigger whore who needs to learn her place,' as one of them had said, she was a violent, murdering runaway slave.

Now, she finally had a chance to rest. She had made her way out of the more populated areas and was close to the bayou. She figured if there was a chance at finding help from other black folks, it would be in the places the white folk didn't like to go. Besides, her cousin Tyrell was probably still around the area, he always liked to fight and wouldn't have left. At least, that's what she hoped. She was hiding in another drainage pipe beside a small highway. It was raining, and the pipe was half flooded, but she hadn't seen but two trucks all day, so she felt safer and more comfortable than she had in a year.

She had just closed her eyes for a minute, hoping for some sleep, when she heard the engine approaching. It was a truck, by the sound of it, and it was moving slowly. It stopped very close to where she was hiding. Panic shot through her like a blade of ice. How could they have found her? Wasn't she well hidden? They never found her in a drainpipe before! She got very still, and listened intently while being poised to spring from her hiding spot and run as fast as her badly wounded leg would allow into the woods nearby, just across the pasture she was next to.

A door slammed, and a very angry sounding man's voice was soon heard berating his truck for its many faults as her went about adjusting something under the hood. After a few moments, the man cursed again and determined it was the battery that was the issue. Another moment passed, and the rain let up, letting Sonya hear things clearly. There was quiet, then a door opened, and the man said, “Hey Bubba, i'm broke down 'bout 15 minutes outta Reeves, down up on 113... Yea, daggum battery bit it 'gain, third time this week. You think you could come on up this way and gimmie a little ol' jump? Alright, well I 'preciate that, brother... yea, i'll see you soon... Yea, see you then.”

Sonya relaxed a little, fairly certain that she wasn't in any more danger than she had been, and waited for a while. After what felt like an hour, another truck, a much healthier sounding truck, rolled up. There was a greeting, and after what Sonya presumed was an examination of the broken down truck by Bubba, the truck was jumped off, rather unhappily. “Now listen, if this truck is needing to get jumped off this much, you either need a new battery, or your alternators busted. You need to get this truck to the shop and get it fixed tomorrow, if it'll even start.”

There was a couple minutes of bullshitting between the two men, and at one point, Bubba expressed an interest in finding a “little house slave” for himself, since his brother found one and was apparently very pleased with her. They seemed to be wrapping up when the first man, who was called 'Red' declared that he had to piss. Sonya jumped a little in surprise when the stream of urine landed right next to her. The pissing stopped abruptly.

“You heard that, Bubba?”

“I ain't heard shit but your fucked up engine.”

“No, somethings in that drainpipe. Coon or sumin.”

Sonya tensed up again. Was this it? Would they find her? Could she take on two of them? Could she outrun them? Those and a thousand more questions leaped through her mind in those few seconds. She readied herself to lunge at whoever stuck their face in the pipe first, then bolt for the fence. Maybe she'd be able to make it, she had always been fast before her leg was cut, even running track in highschool. For a moment, she wished that she was back then, only two years ago, but a whole lifetime ago, it seemed. She couldn't wish long, however, because a light was shone directly in her face, the flashlight from a phone, and one of the men right behind it. She lunged, fist first at the light, and was rewarded by a startled yelp from the man, followed by the soft crunch of a broken nose under her fist.

The man fell backwards, his phone flew from his hand, and Sonya landed on top of him. A moment later, she brought the metal cuffs around her wrists down on his face together, then jumped up, unsteadily in the wet ditch and on her injured leg, and bolted for the fence. The other man, on the road still, called out to Red, and started rushing over, still processing what was happening. Sonya had the upperhand though, and was scrambling over the barbed wire before the second man actually recognized that it was a human who attacked his friend. But Sonya was unlucky, and as she was getting her injured leg over, one of the wires snapped, and she felt hard, her injured leg being dragged across the remaining wires, cutting her, and tearing the strip of dirty tee shirt that she had wrapped her wound in, off. Minutes later, she was across the small pasture, at the treeline, and she risked a look back. They weren't chasing her, at least not yet. Sonya breathed a sigh of relief, then turned and took off into the trees. Even if they weren't hot on her tracks, they likely would be.

Sonya watched the sun rise the next morning, and with the light, she could inspect her leg. It was definitely infected, a puffy, angry gash that slowly oozed a foul smelling, dark green pus, tinged with streaks of blood. She needed antibiotics or she was going to have very serious issues very soon. Hungry and weak from irregular meals, dehydrated and exhausted, and badly injured, she needed a break, a safe place. The rest of that day was spent trying to find food, clean water, and someplace with medicine. She found none of those things, and as the sun was setting, she resigned herself to an awful night under a tree, and wished for more rain, so she could catch a few drops with her mouth. But Sonya was unlucky.

She dreamt of awful things that night, as she often did these days, when she could dream. She dreamt of monsters rising out of murky pools to chase her, and of spiders bursting from her leg wound to consume her. She dreamt of her father's face, broken and bloody, his lifeless eyes staring at her and he whispered “Run.” She dreamt of her mother and sister being raped, but the men doing it were red skinned and horned breasts, with massive cocks that writhed like boas and strangled her mother, and tore her sister in half. And she dreamt of the hounds of hell chasing her from the scene, and into a void that wasn't there before. She turned and the hellhouds were gone but they howled still, from somewhere in the distance. The howling seemed to get louder and come from all around her, and she turned about quickly, trying to find the source of it before snapping awake in a cold sweat. The howling didn't fade with the rest of her dream, no, it was actually getting louder. It was real. And Sonya had been in the area long enough to recognize the baying of hunting dogs when she heard it. She knew that they bayed for her, and without thinking about it, she took off away from the sound, clearly from the direction she had come.

She limped through the woods as fast as she could on her increasingly lame leg, the sound of the dogs growing louder and louder around her. They couldn't be far, at this point, she thought to herself, they were just too loud. Her lungs were burning, her leg no longer in pain, just numb, her heart pounded in her chest from fear and the exertion, and her head throbbing because she was too tired. She stumbled over tricky roots in the pale moonlight and fell hard, barely raising her hands in time to stop from busting her face open. As she struggled to her feet, the howls of the hounds like sinister thunder around her, she knew running wouldn't work. Maybe she could hide in a tree? Better than being torn apart by hounds with fiery eyes. She cast her eyes about wildly, looking for a tree she could climb, and settled on a young oak with low hanging branches. She scrambled up the tree as fast as she could, with great difficulty, as her arms were weak and shaky, and one of her legs was useless. She managed to get onto a good branch just as the dogs, three of them, rushed the tree, howling and snapping at her heels.

Whoever was hunting her, Red and Bubba, maybe the fat one she escaped, she didnt know, but whoever it was was no friend of hers, and they would be here soon. And she was a treed coon, waiting for the slaughter up here. What were her options? If it were one dog, maybe she could jump on it and keep running, but three? No chance. She couldn't wait for the men to find her, her fate would be sealed. Maybe she could move to another tree and hope the dogs don't notice? Not like she had another choice. She went higher, hoping to get more leaves and distance between her and the watchful hounds. Near the top of the tree, not as high as she might have liked, she found her chance to move trees, a pine branch that came very close to hers. She balanced as best she could on her branch, holding onto a higher one for support, and slowly crept her way along the branch to the end. She reached out and grabbed a thin pine branch above the one she wanted to step to, and hoped that it would support her if she lost her balance. One foot went across the gap, her lame leg's. So far so good, now if she could just...

A branch snapped, and Sonya fell. She landed on her bad leg and felt a hot gush from her wound as something burst, then the pain was too much, and she passed out, luckily, before the first dog's teeth found their mark.

It seemed to Sonya like an unnaturally long, and unusually uneventful unconsciousness. It was long enough and stark enough for her to actively think to herself that she should have woken up by now. Was she dead? It had been a long fall... Maybe the hell hounds has finished her off? Wouldn't surprise her, she supposed, but don't they usually drag someone down to hell? Maybe this was hell? Seemed too quiet though, hell was supposed to be bright and painful. So this was.... Purgatory? That wouldn't be so bad, she thought. At least here she wasn't someone's slave to rape. And her leg was better! At least, she thought it might be. She couldn't see anything, but she couldn't feel any pain either. She definitely still felt like she had a body, though. But death was supposed to remove you from your body, so...

She was woken suddenly, by a door opening. Her eyes flashed open and the light stung, so she shut them tight again. Then her head burst into pain from somewhere inside, and she became aware of the rest of her pain too. Her hand stung like it had been flayed, the left side of her chest ached, and her wrist was almost certainly broken. Her leg, however, didn't hurt much at all, just throbbed slightly in time with her heartbeat. She groaned as the pain hit her, and she felt woozy and sick.

“Well, look who's up. My you gave quite a fight. Oh no, don't you try and move yet.” Sonya had, of course, tried to get up, but the effort was too much, and she merely rolled over and tried to vomit, but found she couldn't. “Yeah, when you gone and broke ol' Red's nose like that, well, we didn't take very kindly.” She opened her eyes again slowly, adjusting to the brightness of it all. The man speaking was Bubba, she recognized the voice. It seems that once again, Sonya was unlucky; this time because she wasn't dead. She managed to give the man a glare, to which he chuckled.

“Now, is that any way to treat the man who been takin' care of you? Why, I coulda' let them dogs go and have their way with your leg there, lord knows it smelled bad enough to be some sorta snack for 'em.” She looked at her leg, and saw it was bandaged properly, her hand and opposite wrist too. She also saw that apart from her bandages, and a large metal cuff around her good ankle, she was naked. There was nothing for her to cover herself with either. She looked back at Bubba, who was watching her closely.

“L...le...” She tried to speak but her throat was more parched than she'd known it could be. As her mouth tried to form words, her lips cracked painfully. “Bet you're mighty thirsty, ain't ya'?” Bubba said as he pulled a water bottle from a nearby case of them. He walked over to her, and squatted, so her was closer to her level. “Now, I don't care for things being the way they are. And I am sorry about you and your kin goin' through this. I had a few good buddies of the African persuasion. But I also had a brother, bout half a year back. Your kind decided his life was worth less than a message.” Bubba unscrewed the bottle of water and put it down, just outside of Sonya's reach. “You're lucky you're a pretty little negress. Means you might not have such a bad life, if you ever learn how to act right. Time's they are a-changin'. Now you gotta get used to that fact real quick. You can't be doing that runnin' 'roun' throwin' hands business no more. You are a slave now. You act nice and you look pretty, and you don't throw no fit when a man decides you're better used in bed than the kitchen. You got that?”

Sonya glared again at him, but she didn't have much strength left to try to fight the notion, nor did she think she would get any water if she did. She begrudgingly nodded, to which Bubba smiled. “Good. Now imma' give you this water here, and you're gon' sip it real slow like, because you drink too much at once and you're gonna throw up. Then, imma' go and find you something to eat, so you don't waste away there. And when I come back, you're gonna thank me for being so nice and considerate, and for my attentive care to your wounds.” He moved the water where she could reach it, and then walked out, closing the door behind him. Sonya grabbed the water and sipped, as she was bid, since that was all good advice. The cool water actually hurt going down, but she had never known something so wonderful before.

She was alone in the room now, sipping water as fast as she figured she could keep it down. It was a small room, dark brown carpet only a few shades lighter than her skin. The walls were fake wood paneling, the ceiling white and popcorned. The walls were bare, save for a single window, boarded up. There was no furniture in the room. The cuff around her ankle was connected with a thick chain to the only thing of note (besides the case of water by the door) in the room, a large chest freezer, which the sat on top of the chain, effectively keeping her leashed. She tried to think of some way to escape, but her options seemed very limited. And until she had some strength back, there was no way she could get far, even if she did find a way to leave.

Her planning was disturbed by Bubba coming back, this time carrying a paper plate with a sandwich and some chips on it, The breakfast of kings. He walked over and placed the plate down where he had put the bottle of water, just out of her reach. “Now, I reckon you can speak again, since most of that water is gone. As I recall, you owe me some gratitude.” She looked at him, and with sincerity, she said “Th-thank you. For my leg, and the water.” Then, “Please, let me go. I didn't do nothing to deserve this.”

Bubba gave her a look, not cruel or uncaring, a look that was close to sympathy. “I know, I don't believe that half of your kind did. But if I were to let you go, how far do you reckon you'd make it on that leg of yours? Oh I cleaned it up, been rubbing it with antibiotic cream, even got my vet to come stitch it up a bit. But you ain't gonna be using that leg for another week, if you're lucky.” He gave her a look, up and down, “You don't strike me as the lucky type.” He sighed. “And before you ask me to try to sneak you out of the country, you should know that all the borders are locked down tighter than a faggot's jeans. No, you're stuck here, and that's all she wrote 'bout that.” The way he said it was soft, like he was trying to be kind about delivering such horrid news. He gently pushed the plate of food withing her reach. “You best get that food in you, gotta get some strength to heal up, else you wont be as useful to your new owner. You're gonna be safe here while you heal up, and after that, the boys and I are gonna make sure you know to act civil and can perform the duties that men are lookin' for in a house slave.”

Over the next week or two, Sonya couldn't quite tell because of the lack of sunlight, Bubba proved to be a rather hospitable captor. He was never cruel to her, ensured that she was fed and well hydrated, and took special care of her injuries. He had even given her a small pillow and an old blanket, but warned her that she shouldn't get used to comforts like that. And perhaps most notably, he never touched her but to clean and bandage her wounds. She was kept naked, and told “You're probably gonna be kept naked wherever you go, and if I were to give you any clothes, they'd just be taken from you. No, better to get used to being on display now.” when she asked for a shirt. But despite her nakedness, Bubba didn't stare at her either. Maybe he really did feel bad about this whole thing. Not that it stopped him from selling her, that's just business. The world changed, and Bubba was quick to adapt to what brought home bread. But for a time, she was safe, and could process what had happened. She cried herself to sleep nightly, and would often weep in her waking hours. Her dreams were mostly memories, always ending with that awful night, her father's face with dead, sightless eyes, her mother's look of grim determination and resignation, her sister's tear streaked screams. Sonya doubted she would ever forget, and knew that she would never forgive. She decided that her survival was now a matter of biding her time, staying as safe as she could, waiting for a chance to escape the country. Or maybe she'd be able to last until the global community worked together to get fix the atrocities committed in the past year. Either way, running wasn't an option for her. She had to endure.

The peaceful time with Bubba was short lived, because once she was mostly healed, Bubba brought 'the boys' over. Three of them, Red being among them, clearly identified by the recently broken nose and a fresh scar on his brow. Bubba spoke first. “Now, you know how things are, and what you need to do. Show these boys here that you ain't got no fight, and they're like to take it easy on you. 'Cept Red, he's still mad about his nose, even if it does make him look better.” The guys chuckled and Bubba gave one last look at her, laden with meaning, then left and closed the door. The remaining men started really looking at her, lust obvious in their eyes.

It was quiet for a long moment before Sonya stood up and, resigning herself to endurance, bent over the freezer, closed her eyes, and started to pray.

[avengers-age-of-fanfics]

just for you, honeybee (4/?)

pairings: steve rogers x fem!reader (platonic), bucky barnes x fem!reader

warnings: characters death, swearing, flirting with colonel phillips, guns, plane crash

word count: 4,327

a/n: holy crap this one is long! i really enjoyed writing this chapter just because i got to watch CA:TFA all over again and i cried like a little baby. hope you guys enjoy this! btw, next chapter is going to be very short - probably the shortest one yet, just a heads up!

“Johann Schmidt belongs in a bughouse,” Colonel Phillips started, “he thinks he’s a god and he’s willing to blow up half the world to prove it, starting with the U.S.A.”

You tensed up next to Steve as Howard moved behind you, taking a seat to your right, “Schmidt’s working with powers beyond our capabilities. He gets across the Atlantic, he will wipe out the entire Eastern Seaboard in an hour.”

Peggy’s eyes met yours before they drifted to Steve who tossed a pile of papers on the table in front of him. One of the Howling Commandos spoke up, “how much time we got?”

Colonel Phillips sorted through some files, “according to my new best friend, under 24 hours.”

You spoke up, “where is he now?”

The Colonel presented the group with a photo, “Hydra’s last base is here. In the Alps, 500 feet below the surface.”

Another Howling Commando spoke up, “so what are we supposed to do? I mean, it’s not like we can just knock on the front door.”

“Why not?” And just like that, Steve captured everyone’s attention in the room, including yours. You knew this was going to be a suicide mission, especially if he continued with this idea, “that’s exactly what we’re gonna do.”

Everyone looked at Steve with wide eyes, except for you and Peggy. Schmidt was in for a rude awakening.

-

Grabbing a motorcycle alongside Steve, the two of you headed into the snowy forest towards the base. Glancing over at Steve, you noticed he kept the design on the shield, joy sparking in your chest, “you kept it!”

Steve barely heard you over the sound of the motorcycles but he smiled, “not too shabby for your first Captain America design.”

You chuckled, about to respond until you glanced back, seeing six motorcycles behind you, “we got company, Cap!”

Quickly swerving back and forth to avoid whatever-the-hell they were shooting at you, Cap glanced back once more before he pushed a button on the pad attached to his motorcycle, two hooks with strings attached latching onto two trees. Right away, two guys on motorcycles failed to avoid the trap, sending them flying forward.

Cap yelled over to you, “get next to me!”

Speeding up a bit on your bike, you ended up next to Steve as he pressed another button, fire immediately covering two of the cyclists. You gave Steve a look, “that was so badass!”

On your left, you saw two Hydra motorcycles race ahead of you before you looked to Steve, “I got an idea! Move quickly!” Racing ahead, you quickly picked a pin from their motorcycles, making sure Steve was nowhere near them. Looking back, you sent a smirk his way as he sped up next to you, hearing and feeling the explosion of the motorcycles.

Riding towards the base, a tank was placed right before the entrance. Steve yelled, “stay right behind me,” just as the tank started shooting at you. Racing behind Cap, you both saw the tank explode as Steve shot at it from his motorcycle, riding up the cement barrier of the base.

Jumping over the barriers with your bikes, both you and Steve were met with Hydra soldiers with guns pointed right at you. Continuing your ride, you saw Steve jump off his, watching it explode the first wall of the base. Riding through the base, you quickly took down any soldier in your way, shooting them with your new best friend – StG 44.

Running a few fellas over with your bike, you looked over at Steve who was taking multiple soldiers down with the shield. Turning your attention back towards the fight, you continued to take down more men – but you noticed their numbers were growing bigger by the second.

In a spare glance, you turned to Steve who was now surrounded by two men holding flamethrowers, making it unable for him to move. You came to a stop, noticing a line of men pointing their guns at you. With a sigh, you hopped off your bike – but not before shooting one more guy by your feet.

You saw Cap look around for you worriedly until he met your eyes; you nodded at him, telling him to not put up a fight, at least not yet. He nodded back, allowing the Hydra soldiers to take both your weapons and leading you down the halls of the base and into a room that had it not hold one of the world’s most dangerous men, you’d say it had a beautiful view.

You and Steve stopped side-by-side with the Hydra soldiers as Johann Schmidt started talking, “arrogance may not be a uniquely American trait, but I must say, you do it better than anybody.”

This was not what you expected Johann Schmidt to look like.

He glanced at you, “seems you have no limits, Captain, bringing a woman into this.”

You glared at the red-faced monster, “I came here on my own accord, just to clarify, Schmidt.”

Johann hummed as he turned away from you, “however, even you have limits as to what you can do, Captain. Or did Erskine tell you otherwise?”

Steve spoke up beside you, “he told me you were insane.”

Schmidt seemed unsurprised, looking down to the floor and back to Steve, “ah…he resented my genius and tried to deny what was rightfully mine. But he gave you everything. So, what made you so special?”

Steve chuckled, “nothin’. I’m just a kid from Brooklyn.”

Schmidt turned to you, “how about you, little one? What makes you so special?”

You swallowed thickly, “good looks?”

You nor Steve really aren’t sure what exactly set Johann off, but a switch had flipped, and his face grew into a frown before he slapped you across the face twice, doing the same to Cap while also kneeing him in the stomach. Both you and Steve were put on your knees as all three of you breathed heavily.

With a slight grin, Steve looked up at Johann, “I can do this all day.”

Johann was not amused, “oh, of course you can, of course.” He paused before he continued, pulling a gun out from the side of his uniform, “but unfortunately, I am on a tight schedule.” He pointed the gun to Steve’s head just as the Howling Commandos began to zip line towards the base.

You growled towards Schmidt, “so are we.”

Once Schmidt realized what was happening, you and Steve quickly grabbed the guards behind you, pulling them in front as Johann fired his gun at them, their bodies disappearing in thin air. You gave Steve a look as the Howling Commandos flew in through the windows, firing at the enemy as Schmidt took off.

Quickly getting up off your feet, you scurried towards the hall where Schmidt took off, a Howling Commando yelling behind you, “Rogers! You might need this!”

Hearing the shield pass through the air, you knew Steve caught it as he yelled back, “thanks,” then hearing his footsteps take after yours.

Hydra troops marched down the halls of the base, guns ready to fire at any moment. With your heightened sense of hearing, you knew the rest of the platoon was taking over the Hydra base, gunfire slowly taking over your senses. Explosions filled the base as smoke and fire entered your senses; Steve ran beside you, sensing the same things.

You saw Schmidt turn down a corridor, yelling over to Steve, “this way!” Quickly, Schmidt retaliated, sending bolts of his gun your way, making you narrowly avoid being disintegrated. Steve ran beside you, shield blocking the gunfire as you chased after the madman.

With a lucky throw, Steve threw the shield, catching it between metal doors where Schmidt narrowly escaped. Cap let out a sigh, rushing towards the shield as you quirked an eyebrow, “lucky throw?”

Before he could answer, a Hydra Agent came around the corner with two flamethrowers, making Steve push you against the wall as he ran opposite of you; you both were trapped as fire encapsulated your vision. Glancing towards the fire welder, you tried coming up with a plan before, lo and behold, Peggy Carter shot at the man, his flaming body falling to the ground.

Both you and Steve looked around the corner, spotting Peggy as soldiers ran by; Steve smirked at Peg, “you’re late.”

Your eyes shifted towards the ceiling as you tried to avoid the awkward moment; Peggy spoke up, “weren’t you about to –“ Steve nodded, “right, yeah – y/n.” With that, you and Steve took off towards the door where the shield held its place. Grabbing your hand, Steve pulled the shield and quickly took off.

You spotted men from the 107th shooting at the giant airship, Hydra agents lying about the floor. Turning to Steve, who was a few steps behind you, you nodded your head, “we got a problem.” The ship’s engines had already started, and it seemed Schmidt was, understandably, in a rush to complete his plan. The ship turned, wheels screeching against the floor as you and Cap slowed down, watching it slowly make its way to the exit.

Steve glanced around, watching as Hydra forces and your own fought one another. With a nod towards you, both you and Steve took off, running headfirst into battle, making sure to avoid trouble along the way; that, and, well, Steve also wanted to get some hits in.

You noticed where Cap was headed as you two ran in battle, “how do you plan on fitting us both on that?”

Steve glanced back at you, “think you can hold on, kid?”

You grumbled, “yeah! But I’m literally older than you by like, 4 months…”

Quickly, Steve jumped over huddled bodies until he reached a box of supplies lying right beneath a chain; with a jump, Steve latched onto the chain as you skipped a step, latching onto his waist mid-flight. Reaching a safe zone, you jumped first, meeting Steve in a mid-run as you headed towards the ship Johann Schmidt was currently about to fly.

You and Steve ran beside one another, pushing to reach Schmidt even as fire from the engines burnt your face. You yelled over to Steve, “c’mon, Steve! We’re – we’re almost there!” Your last sentence turned into a scream, your body yelling at you for pushing itself to the limits.

The fans from the ship sped up as you and Steve struggled to catch up with Schmidt, your hopes slowly fading as he seemed to get further and further away. Steve pulled you to a slow jog, about to crash until Peggy Carter and Colonel Phillips pulled up beside you in one of Schmidt’s cars.

Colonel Phillips yelled at you both, “get in!” Before you even settled down beside the Colonel and Steve beside Peggy, you took off, hair flying behind you. You turned to the Colonel with a smirk on your face, “nice ride, Phillips!”

The Colonel glanced a look at you as he sped up, “figured I might keep this once we’re done here!” You let out a laugh that soon died off as you recognized the light from the sun and a runway – right where Schmidt currently was.

You looked to the Colonel, a worried look on your face, as he pressed a button beside the steering wheel; right away, the car you were seated in blasted off, hair wildly being thrown behind you as the Colonel grasped onto the wheel. You held onto the door handle, eyes wide as you were reaching the ship, “remind me to never drive with you again, Colonel!”

With shaky legs, you began standing up as Steve did the same mid-ride, reaching the back end of the ship. You and Steve yelled to the Colonel, “keep it steady!”

Peggy shouted over the sounds of the ship and car engines, “wait!” Steve looked back to Peggy as she pulled him into a kiss.

You looked to the Colonel with a shrug; he shook his head at you, “I ain’t kissin’ you!” You gave a laugh as you blew him a kiss, leaning on the hood of the car to avoid getting chopped up by the propellers on the ship. Steve followed right behind you, shield meeting the propellers only once, sparks flying.

You glanced at Steve quickly before you jumped towards the ship’s wheel, grabbing onto the metal support beam as Steve flew right below you, catching onto the lasting part of the wheel. Looking down, you tried steadying your breath as you realized how high up you were; grasping Steve’s hand, you pulled him up alongside you as the wheel you two stood on was slowly pulled into the ship.

With a shaky hand, you reached into your shirt and grabbed Bucky’s dog tags, holding them tight against your scolding skin, even though it was blistering cold in the Alps.

Once inside the lower level of the ship, you and Steve quietly made your way along the metal floors, looking below you as you saw a horrifying sight; bombs with names of major cities written on them, including Chicago and New York.

With a slight gasp, you turned to Steve who looked just as distraught as you were. As his eyes met the New York bomb, footsteps echoed above you, Hydra agents making their ways across the metal landings. With stealth, Steve jumped up, grabbing onto the railing, and kicking an agent over the ledge. Jumping just as high, you landed on the landing and met with the remaining three agents.

With a slight run, you met one agent halfway as he immediately threw a punch your way. You narrowly avoided it, ducking to the side and elbowing him in the face, hearing a nice crunch beneath your elbow. Steve made his way around you, kicking another agent in the chest as he flew backwards. Kicking your opponent over the ledge, you grabbed a knife holstered onto your thigh and threw it at the third and final agent running away, hiding him in the back of the neck; with a grunt, he fell against the side of the landing.

Somehow, Steve’s agent escaped during a quick moment of distraction, climbing on top of the Chicago bomb. Cap ran towards the control panel, pressing the red escape button before the poor guy could even make it inside the capsule, hearing him scream as he fell thousands of feet.

You took a quick breath, “I don’t feel guilty about that…is that bad?”

Steve shrugged, “I – I don’t think so…no, yeah, no, definitely not.”

Less than a second later, two Hydra agents ambushed you and Steve, punching you in the side as you let out a grunt. Avoiding another punch, you grabbed a knife from your thigh and stabbed your opponent in the chest, flipping him over just for good measure. Steve had already disposed of his guy as you kicked yours down towards the opening where Steve’s own guy had just gone down.

You wiped off the blood from your knife on your suit as Steve grimaced, “what, waste a perfectly good knife? Sorry I don’t have a shield, Stevie.”

Steve just shivered, “that’s just…gross, y/n.”

You rolled your eyes, “so overdramatic. C’mon, let’s go.”

Before you could continue on within the ship, however, Steve and you heard someone get into one of the bombs, closing the lid. Steve immediately jumped onto the window, another agent jumping on top of him. Without thinking, you threw your knife at the agent, hitting him in the shoulder as the bomb, along with Steve on it, dropped into the sky.

You screamed, “Steve! No – no!”

Grabbing at your hair, you held back tears as you watched Steve fly around, narrowly avoiding the tiny ship’s propellers. With careful steps, you saw the scene unfold as the agent you had stabbed was shoved into the propellers, blood flowing from the sky; you gagged, “jesus, Steve – that was disgusting.”

Stepping away from the platform, you trusted Steve and continued your way through the ship, trying to find Schmidt. Grabbing Cap’s shield from where it had been discarded before the bomb was dropped, you made your way to the cockpit where you realized it was quiet – too quiet.

At some point, you felt the ship shake and loud bangs filled the air as you hoped it was Steve – back in one piece. Slowly walking down the stairs, the shield protecting you, you quietly walked upon the metal grates of the ship until reaching the pilot’s seat; leaning to the side, you realized Schmidt was no longer there.

“What the –“ Before you could finish, you heard the sounds of a gun preparing to fire, and in a split second, you used the shield to protect yourself from Schmidt’s laser, the shot hitting the window of the ship.

Harsh winds forced itself into the ship, your hair blowing wildly as Schmidt stood before you, “you don’t give up, do you? Where’s Mr. Rogers, little one?”

Just then, Steve decided to make his grand entrance as you glared at Schmidt, “kids from Brooklyn aren’t exactly known for givin’ up, Johann.” With a flick of your arm, you threw the shield to Steve as Schmidt fired, forcing you to jump to the side. Steve caught the shield, blocking another hit from Schmidt’s laser as it hit the window again.

Cap ran towards Schmidt, blocking more hits as he fought with the red-skulled man, avoiding yet also receiving some hits. Once Cap was kicked to the ground, you jumped behind Schmidt, kicking his hind legs and kneeing his lower spine, hearing him grunt in pain in response. Steve stood up, pushing Schmidt against a wall before being slammed to the ground.

You ran towards Johann, arm going around his neck, choking him as he tried grabbing at anything for leverage. With a quick glance to the table lying in the middle of the room, glowing blue, you threw yourself on top of it, pulling Schmidt with you and onto the floor. Steve had then pulled Schmidt up, hitting him with his shield until Schmidt fought back, hitting Cap with his own weapon before Steve headbutted him.

Steve leaned back before he grabbed onto Schmidt’s uniform, throwing him towards the pilot seat, sparks immediately flying through the air. With a yell, you realized the ship was tipped downwards, heading straight towards, what looked like, an icy landscape. Flying to the ceiling alongside Schmidt and Steve, you flew towards Johann, punching him in the stomach as he did you, trying to gain some type of balance.

As the three of you fought in the air, you gave your best kicks and punches, watching Steve be thrown to the side of the ship. In the short time, Schmidt flew over and pulled up the steering stick of the ship, pressing a few buttons as you all three fell to the floor, the ship back to normal altitude.

Landing on the metal grates harshly, you groaned as Steve stood up, pulling you alongside him as he held his shield in front of you both. Schmidt turned towards you, gun in hand as he stumbled down the stairs, “you could have the power of the gods! Both of you!”

Schmidt shot towards you and Steve as you ducked, feeling the heat of the gunfire pass over your head, “yet you wear a flag on your chest, and think you fight a battle of nations!” He kept firing at you, Steve pulling you along as Schmidt continued, “I have seen the future, Captain, little one! There are no flags!”

Another shot fired over your head as Steve analyzed his next steps, yelling back, “not my future!” Leaping forward, Steve rolled and protected himself from another shot from Schmidt as you kneeled by the side, ready to step in.

With a grunt, Steve threw the shield at Johann, forcing him to hit the glowing table, the item inside slowly coming out of its container. You narrowed your eyes, “what the hell is that?” Its bright light captured your attention as Schmidt stood beside it, “what have you done?”

The bright blue box was now outside its container, off to the side from the force of Johann’s body; Schmidt grabbed it, and after a few seconds, bright lights flew around the ship and the universe seemed to open up above him. Your brain could not comprehend what you were seeing – millions of stars and planets littered the space above as Schmidt stood below, arms beside him as he looked up.

Slowly, Schmidt’s body began to deteriorate, his screams of pain echoing throughout the ship, rainbow flashes coloring your vision as both you and Steve looked away. Then, in a split second, the blue cube fell to the ground and Schmidt was gone.

You looked at Cap, “what…what just happened?”

Steve shook his head, leaning down to grab his shield before nodding towards the pilot’s seat, “we gotta figure this out.”

Sitting beside him as co-pilot, you turned on the radio as Steve tried to figure out how exactly to land the aircraft. He looked down at the map, noticing the ship was on its way to New York. Looking at one another, you pressed on the intercom button beside you, “come in! This is y/n l/n, alongside Captain Rogers. Do you read me?”

Right away, someone responded, “Y/N, L/N, what is your –“

Quickly, Peggy interrupted him, “y/n! Is that you? Is Steve with you? Are you both alright?”

You sighed at the sound of Peggy’s voice as Steve smiled, “Peggy! Schmidt’s dead and – and –“

Peggy calmed you down, “what about the plane?”

You looked to Steve for help as he talked for you, “that’s a little bit tougher to explain.” You raised an eyebrow at Steve as you grasped onto Bucky’s dog tags around your neck, trying to help the conversation. Peggy continued, “give me your coordinates, I’ll find you a safe landing site.”

With solemn eyes, you looked at Steve who was trying his best to possibly fix something, anything, “there’s not gonna be a safe landing…but I can try and force it down.”

Peggy stumbled, “I – I’ll get Howard on the line. He’ll know what to do.”

Steve shouted back, “there’s not enough time. This thing’s moving too fast and it’s heading for New York.”

The sky ahead of you looked beautiful. It was orange, mixed with bits of yellow and blue. Your nose had grown quite cold and your hair whipped your face as you still grasped onto the dog tags.

Steve breathed heavily, “I gotta put her in the water.”

You knew this was coming. You just knew it.

Peggy responded, “please, don’t do this. We have time. We can work it out.”

You called out to Peggy, “Peg…we’re in the middle of nowhere. If we wait any longer, a lot of people are going to die.” Steve glanced at you with worry in his eyes; you nodded to him as he continued, “Peggy… this is our choice. We’re okay.”

Steve reached into his pocket, pulling out a compass with a picture of Peg in the middle of it, placing it on one of the meters. With a grunt, Steve pushed the level down, the airship leaning towards the ocean in no time. You looked at Steve, your heart racing as tears raced your cheeks; not in fear, but in sadness.

Sadness that you never got to have your dance with Bucky at your wedding, nor see his smile once again or feel his lips against your own. You wouldn’t get to hear his gravelly voice in the morning right after a good night’s sleep, or get to hold his hand as he pulled you along at fairs. You wouldn’t be able to smell him or feel his hair against your fingertips as he cuddled into your chest. You wouldn’t be able to be with him before you died.

The altitude was dropping fast and Steve continued to look at the picture of Peggy, the sun glaring in his eyes, “Peggy?”

With a whisper, Peggy responded, “I’m here.”

Steve stared at the glaciers that were coming into view, “I’m gonna need a rain check on that dance.”

Your lips quivered as the glaciers came closer and closer to you. Peggy let her tears fall as she whispered back, “all right. A week, next Saturday, at the Stork Club. And I expect you there, too, y/n. You hear me?”

You and Steve let out a breath as Steve responded, “you got it.” Steve reached beside himself and grabbed for your hand, holding it tightly. The tears came faster as did the glaciers and the cold water.

Peggy continued, “8 o’clock on the dot. Don’t you dare be late. You two understand?”

You swallowed, tears clouding your vision, “yes ma’am.”

Steve stared at the oncoming landscape, “you know, I still don’t know how to dance.”

Peggy whispered as Steve’s hand gripped yours tight, “I’ll show you how. Just be there.”

Steve had his own tears running down his cheeks as you sobbed quietly, hand gripping his tight, “we’ll have the band play something slow.”

Steve turned back towards you, eyes sad as he saw your cheeks, “I am so sorry, honeybee. I’m so sorry.”

With your remaining hand, you held onto Bucky’s dog tags tightly, alongside Steve’s hand, as he turned back to the radio, “I’d hate to step on your…”

The last thing you saw was your James Barnes standing right in front of you, arms wide as he yelled, “my honeybee! There she is – looking gorgeous as ever, honey.” With a kiss to your lips, it almost felt real as you responded, “hi, Jamie.”

honeybee taglist:

@clownerlyluv @ginger-swag-rapunzel

[boop-le-snoot]

cupid carries a gun

masterlist • taglist & faq

dark!Bruce Banner x named!Reader. Rated R.

Dr. Banner is a serial killer known as the Doctor and Bailey has his soulmark. He escapes imprisonment and meets his soulmate. ~2,2k words. Serial killer fluff??

[no y/n, no 'you', no reader description, race/age/body type neutral, only first name]

This is more of a concept I wrote in an hour than an actual fic. I think it would make a good multi-chapter, but really, my hands are full now and I just needed to get this weird dream off my chest. Yes, I had a dream he was a serial killer and I was his soulmate 💀🖐🏻 I need to ease up on true crime shows istg...

St. John's was suffering a nasty collective psychosis. That would be the only logical explanation Bailey is willing to accept for the jittery, jerky way everybody is behaving. Some of it could be attributed to the armed guards roaming the halls and scaring the patients - but in America, a gun slung over the shoulder shouldn't invoke such a reaction from people.

Only select few know what these people are there for, anyways. Most hospital population is clueless, only vaguely perceiving the sense of dread those harbouring the knowledge seem to carry around. People are easily scared - the thought doesn't leave Bailey's head her whole shift.

She, however, knows exactly what is happening. She's good at her job, brilliant even, nerves made of purest steel and bedside manner perfectly compassionate and tender. It doesn't come as a surprise that she is the one that got chosen to handle the problematic, uncooperative patients.

The bar is high, and this time - neigh impossible. A man so dangerous, so volatile, it required the sheriff to dispatch their town's squadron of special forces - not that was anything but a slight setback for the Doctor. The halls of this hospital will be forever marred with their blood, will forever be haunted by the echoes of their screams abruptly cutting off with a wet squelch.

Bailey thought she'd done her part to protect the innocents. Her colleagues, young women just like her (they're not, Bailey's mind whispers), all safely locked away in a storage closet for the cops to find. There are no windows and He won't see or hear them... If they're smart.

There he is, the man everybody is savagely afraid of. He is everything and nothing she had imagined - Doctor Bruce Banner is on the shorter side, stocky and sickly pale in his hospital issue pajamas, the bluish tint to his skin contrasted by dark crimson stains of blood on the rancid green cotton of his clothes.

The axe in his hands is held firmly but clumsily - Bailey's sure it wouldn't have been his weapon of choice should he had been given one. A choice. She swallowed the unease that spread all over her determination like mold, seeing his eyes, wild and crazy, land on the crook of her arm - where his mark laid, bright red and angry, as if it had been carved into her flesh mere days ago.

"Are you, perhaps, in need of a nurse, doctor Banner?" Bailey inquired softly, fingertips shaking, as the man crossed the space between them with short, powerful strides. The woman's stance widened, involuntary shivers running through her bones at the unexpected tenderness coming from him - Dr. Banner's palms gently wrapped around her arm, warm, chapped lips touching the angry, red soulmark near the crook of her elbow.

"It's been so long since I had a nurse," the man's mutter was barely audible. His eyes, the warmest brown she'd ever seen, met Bailey's wide, shining ones, for her to discover no trace of the madness she was told should be there. Bailey smiled.

As the hospital building grew smaller in the rear view mirror, so did Bailey's anxiety, paving way to excitement and muted curiosity. Her mother always had told that fate had a way of intervening when it was needed - and her mom had oftentimes taken up the role onto herself, moving them out of the state when Bailey's soulmark began to appear on dead people's bodies, burned or cut into skin as a signature. Bailey was not old enough to understand what it meant, back then, but she'd always been a clever girl.

With her first mobile device, she figured out why her mother strictly prohibited her from speaking about it, why her mother always kept a stash of large bandaids to cover it should Bailey be required to remove her long-sleeve shirt.

Only Bailey's physician knew. She'd expected terror, disgust - or even pity, but Dr. Strange always kept his mouth and eyes shut. As Bailey grew older, blossomed into a fine young woman, she thought she saw envy leak into his chiseled features - but Dr. Strange was as quiet and cynical as ever.

As long as nobody tried to separate them, it would be fine. A small smile stretched her plush lips, hand squeezing the one holding hers with giddiness creeping into her youthful features. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed an expression of curious tranquility on Dr. Banner's- Bruce's face as his eyes stayed firmly on the road as the radio crackled static in-between songs.

"Penny for your thoughts?" The man she'd grown to crave and fear, his salt and pepper curls bouncing with every pothole the car hit; his warm hand, larger than hers by a stretch, provided comfort she hadn't known she needed.

"Where to, doc?" The woman couldn't hold back the anticipation. She wanted to hold him, to be close - closer than her small, cramped cheap car allowed them to be.

"I have some friends waiting for me," the man announced, as if he hadn't spent the last five years in a maximum security prison. Not that it mattered to Bailey - but knowing there was no way back from this, Bruce's so-called friends became a point of doubt to the young woman. The doctor noticed it, his responding smile both dangerous and comforting, all sharp canines and moist lips. "You know them, baby. Dr. Strange is a colleague of mine and Tony Stark is a great friend."

Bailey's eyebrows rose, mild disbelief caught somewhere in her trachea as she attempted to clear her throat. Her family physician and the businessman rumoured to be the largest crime boss of their side of the pond. Suddenly, Strange's long glances and penetrating stares acquired a new meaning, a sense of indignation seeping into Bailey's newly found joy. "And he never said anything," the longing, the countless nights spent studying every publicly available material on Dr. Banner, the killer surgeon that terrorised the Tri-State area burned acrid in her chest.

"He told everything to me," Bruce's remark stung if only from the fact that he'd known about her all along. "Who, do you think, pushed for your transfer to St. John's?" Bruce's smile glinted a little wicked in the meager light of passing-by streetlights as the evening sun simmered down to a rest below the horizon. "I don't actually have cancer," the second remark was more optimistic, spoken hopefully, with another gentle squeeze to her hand.

Bailey puffed out a breath she didn't know she was holding. The puzzle pieces slowly started to arrange themselves, revealing a bigger picture than the one before. She wanted to be mad - mad at Stephen, for not saying anything; mad at Bruce, for getting himself caught years prior. And the anger at her own mother, for taking away her right to stand by her soulmate, for all the countless fights and nights spent locked up in her room.

Bailey had been treated like a monster as soon as he soulmark showed up - and after so much time spent trying to show she wasn't one, perhaps, it was time to face the truth. Perhaps, it was time to show them how much of a monster she could be, if they were so unhappy before.

Gravel flew under the wheels of Bailey's beaten up Toyota Corolla, sending little pebbles to bang noisily against the bumper and the stone flower beds surrounding the driveway to a large two-story mansion. Two cars stood in from of it with two men leaning each against their own vehicle.

The shorter figure was well-dressed, suit obviously bespoke and expensive, sunglasses reflecting the headlights of her Toyota even from a distance away. The taller figure stood out with familiarity, a lit cigarette freely dangling between the finger of his gesturing hand - Dr. Strange and his long, sculpted legs, Bailey could recognise even from a mile away.

Bruce parked, killing the engine and exiting the car with a free, lopsided grin carelessly thrown in Bailey's direction. Fumbling with the lock of her seatbelt, the woman's eyes latched onto the figure of her soulmate eagerly embracing the shorter man, their reunion evidently long-awaited and happy. Stephen's coarse laugh penetrated the interior of the car as the wacky passenger side seatbelt finally let Bailey free.

Three pairs of eyes bore into her body still wearing the scrubs from the hospital - one laughing, Strange was amused; one curious - none other than Tony Stark and his shameless smirk had made an appearance at their first getaway destination; and Bruce, looking so damn proud and lovesick. The grin tugged at Bailey's lips as the presence of the other men barely registered in her elevetaed emotional state.

"Damn, Brucie-bear, lucky you," Tony Stark wolf-whistled, clapping the doctor on the shoulder and receiving a fond eyeroll in return. Those two really were good friends. "Well, I won't hold you two back from getting to know each other better," Stark wiggled his eyebrows salaciously. "We can talk business tomorrow," with that, Stark waltzed over to Bailey, snatching the keys to her car out of her hands with a quick flick of his wrist. "Can't have a car allegedly containing a runaway prisoner on my property, now can I? Don't worry, babycakes, my people will take care of it. Bruce is family. You better treat him well, or else," the river of words flowed from Tony's mouth, causing the surprised Bailey to simply freeze in place and withstand his rambling, surrounded by the smell of whiskey and Stark's expensive cologne.

Despite his easy tone and the relaxed demeanor, Bailey knew a dangerous man when saw one. Tony Stark was not to be fucked with. "Yeah," she mumbled, scampering for the trunk to take out the duffle bag she carried around everywhere - just in case. Just in case her serial-killing, incarcerated-for-life soulmate would somehow found his way to her.

Tony looked at the spectacle with amusement. "You won't need your ID, sweetheart. All of that is going to be taken care of, don't worry your pretty little head about it."

"Duly noted," Bailey couldn't help the annoyed frown at Tony's frivolousness. Her government ID was the last thing on her mind. She wasn't stupid, she knew her mother would go to the cops as soon as she saw the news. "I have my own business to attend to. Might need a hand," the realization came with the dull thud of the trunk being slammed shut.

Tony's eyebrows rose; Bruce approached her with caution, wrapping an arm around her waist from behind. "Is it urgent?"

"Her mother knows about their connection," Strange piped up, glowing ember of the cigarette flying somewhere over the car. The sound of a lighter followed immediately, another dot of shiny red standing out in the twilight. "Don't worry, Bailey, she's detained and sedated for the time being," he offered with a crooked smirk, nearly no trace of the quiet man who bandaged her boo-boos when she was a child.

"You planned this," Bailey observed, fighting the dread crawling up her spine. The realization - she will never step back, will never be able to escape this life - set in. She was unprepared, having acted on a whim, prepared to live on the run but not within an arm's reach of her previous life yet unable to resume it.

"A long time ago," Strange nodded. "You always were a clever girl, Bailey. It is delightful to finally you where you belong," he smiled at Bruce in earnest.

Bailey wondered what else was going on in the sleepy town of hers. What kind of atrocities were committed daily under her nose, by the very people she knew and trusted. There was so much evil in this world.

But not Bruce. He could never be evil, even as he cut the hearts out of the men that had been treating those around them as objects. Bruce merely made them what they should've been; the greed, the infidelity - what use did those men have for their hearts? The Doctor was merciful and true: he never caused his patients undue pain and always, always left them in a state they were true to themselves. It wasn't his fault so many of his patients were heartless beasts for men.

Those clever hands, the same hands that brought the world at his feet, brought Bailey at his - voluntarily so. Their bodies hot, impatient for each other, with their blood singing a song of lust and longing, both of them hidden from the world by the heavy velvet curtains of Tony's estate - it was hellfire in heaven.

No amount of time too long as Bruce's teeth closed around Bailey's jugular, sinking into the flesh tenderly, all the while her nails penetrated the skin of his back; both drew blood, content to drown in it and wash their sins away with it. Heaven and Hell were merely words for the two, anyway.

Bruce Banner taglist:

@couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @pilloclock @sapphicnoodle69

[thatsamericano]

Careful, Throwing Snowballs May Result in a Kiss

Pairing/Characters: America/Romano. Background mentions of Seborga, Veneziano, Canada, and France.

Ratings/Warnings: T for cursing and mildly suggestive dialogue. Pure fluff with no warnings to speak of.

Word Count: 2103

Summary: America throws a snowball at Romano when he’s trying to build a snowman with his brothers. Once Romano tackles America, he has to decide what he wants to do with him.

A/N: Written for @hetalia-fanart-memes, who requested Romerica with the prompt “Don’t throw that snowball” on @helltalia-inc. I hope you enjoy this.

It was snowing in the park only a block away from where the nations had gathered for the world meeting. Romano was never the biggest fan of the cold, so if it had been up to him, he would have gone straight back to the hotel.  He was looking forward to taking a flight back to Rome the next day, where he hopefully wouldn’t be dealing with this snow crap. In the unlikely event that it was snowing in Rome, Romano would go to Naples or another city in South Italy not affected as strongly by the winter.

But for today, Marcello, who had come along on this trip with Savino and Feliciano even if he couldn’t attend the official conference, had practically begged Savino to come build a snowman with him after the meeting. Feliciano had begged too, and under the force of two sets of puppy dog eyes, Savino had folded like a paper napkin.

This wasn’t so bad, Romano reflected. Sure, it was cold as shit, but he was relatively protected in his scarf, hat, and gloves, and he got to spend time with his brothers. At least he hadn’t been pelted with a snowball, which many of the nations had, thanks to America and Canada.

Romano glanced up when he heard France fussing about his appearance as he attempted to brush snow out of his hair. America, who was obviously the one who had thrown this particular snowball, was laughing in his usual obnoxiously bright, ridiculously loud, attention getting way. So, of course Savino turned to glance in that direction instead. He didn’t really have another choice.

Savino hated how his heart started pounding as soon as he looked at Alfred. It wasn’t fair, damn it. No one should look that handsome while just fucking standing there, hunched over a little as they laughed at their own joke like they were God’s gift to comedy. Alfredo was laughing so hard at himself that his cerulean eyes were narrowed into thin slits and tears were leaking from the corners. The sunlight reflected off his glasses, creating a bright light Savino couldn’t manage to look away from. Alfred’s grin was so big it could swallow the sky whole.

And the bastard had dimples, as if God hadn’t blessed him with too much beauty already. Savino wanted to kiss the corner of the idiota’s mouth, just to feel those dimples under his own lips. Savino swallowed heavily at the thought and told himself to focus on the snowman he’d been working on for the past half hour.

But he was too late. America’s smile had already softened, and he had already noticed that Romano was looking at him.

“What’s up, Little Italy? You feel like joining in on the snowball fight?”

Savino scoffed and forced himself to go back to reshaping his snowman’s head. “Hardly. As you can see, I’m busy at the moment.”

“Are you suuure? It could be a lot of fun.”

“If you want to go run around with America, that’s fine,” Seborga told him. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Romano wasn’t looking at his baby brother. He was looking at America, because he knew that mischievous tone of voice from back when they lived together, and he knew that Alfred was planning something. Fredo was never good at subtlety.

America was rolling a snowball together in his gloved hands with a smirk on his face. Because of course he was.

“I swear to God, if you throw that fucking snowball at me—”

The snowball went sailing through the air, and it hit him square in the chest. Savino was stumbled backwards a little, because Alfred had used way too much fucking force with that throw because of his super-strength. It wasn’t enough to really hurt him, but it was almost enough to knock him off his feet.

The sounds of laughter rang out around him. Alfred, of course, and Feli and Marcello nearby. Canada seemed to be chuckling, though he was too quiet for Romano to actually hear him, and so were the other nations nearby, even the ones like France who had been America’s snowball victims.

And that just wouldn’t fucking stand.

Romano glared at America as viciously as he could manage when he was more irritated than truly pissed off. “Now you’re gonna get it, stronzo!”

Alfred took off running, shrieking with laughter, and Savino chased after him. They ran for a couple minutes, because America could be pretty fast when he wanted to be. But he couldn’t outpace an Italian.

Eventually, Savino tackled him in a snowbank and fell right on top of him. If America had really wanted to get away, Romano would have had no hope of holding him down. But America wasn’t struggling. He relaxed back against the snowy ground, panted for air, and smiled up at Romano sheepishly.

“Looks like you caught me.”

“I guess I did.” Savino moved one of his hands to the side to gather up some snow in his palm. Alfred didn’t notice. He was still too busy grinning up at him.

Alfred giggled, because apparently, he found the idea of being in this position inherently hilarious for God knows what reason. “Now that you have me, what are you gonna do with me?”

Savino gazed down at him thoughtfully. He took a moment to examine the golden blond hair tousled underneath his knit cap and how it perfectly framed his rosy cheeks. He stared at the goofy smile and the electric blue eyes that had distracted him so thoroughly before. He memorized what it felt like to have Alfred’s firm, solid body laid out underneath him.

“I can think of a few things,” Savino admitted quietly. “Not all of them would be appropriate for a public park.”

Alfred’s eyes widened comically behind his glasses, and his face turned red. No, not just red, practically scarlet. His face practically matched the poinsettias that had been decorating the lobby of the office building they were in earlier today. “Vinny, that’s um, that’s, wow, I…”

Romano chuckled at how flustered and tongue-tied he was. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

Alfred nodded frantically, with a desperate look in his eyes. “Please.” He might have been embarrassed, but he was eager too. It was too adorable for Savino to resist.

He started to lean down, and America closed his eyes, because he was innocent and gullible enough to do that. He couldn’t see Romano’s arm lifting with the snowball he’d make earlier. A millisecond before their lips touched, Romano shoved the snowball he’d made earlier directly into the crook of America’s neck, right above his coat collar and scarf, where he was unprotected from the cold.

America’s eyes flew open, and he squawked indignantly. “You tricked me!”

Romano laughed at the offended look on his face. “You made it so fucking easy.” He couldn’t believe America had actually fallen for the oldest trick in the book.

Alfred growled at him, and the low noise sent a tingle down Savino’s spine. “That was evil. I really oughta do something about it.”

Savino snorted. “What the fuck do you think you’re gonna do, Mr. Tough Guy?”

“This.” Before Romano could ask what “this” was, America flipped them over, and in the space of a second, he was pinned underneath someone a lot stronger than him. He couldn’t have escaped if he’d wanted to. Savino couldn’t breathe properly, and he couldn’t tell if it was because of the sudden body slam or the fact that Alfred was on top of him.

To repeat, Alfred was on top of him. His brain couldn’t function at half its normal capacity when he realized that.

Then Alfred was kissing him, and it wasn’t soft, nor gentle, nor sweet. America’s tongue shoved its way into his mouth immediately, without any build-up or finesse, and Romano could feel how frustrated he was. He must have been suppressing this desire for as long as Romano had, because it didn’t just feel like something America wanted. It felt like a raw, animalistic hunger, like he was kissing Romano hard enough to bruise because he might die if he didn’t.

Savino felt the same way. He groaned in the back of his throat, clutched the collar of Alfred’s coat, hauled him close enough to feel the edge of his glasses digging into his face, and kissed him back just as forcefully.

After a while, it had to end. They couldn’t kiss forever because of that whole inconvenient “need to breathe” thing. Alfred disconnected their mouths, sighed happily, and scooted down a little to nuzzle Savino’s cheek.

“Best revenge ever,” Alfred declared triumphantly.

Savino huffed out a laugh. “I’m not sure if that counts as revenge. Revenge is supposed to be something the other person doesn’t like.”

“And you liked kissing me a lot, didn’t you?” America sounded so smug and sure of himself, and ordinarily, Romano would have been annoyed by anyone with that kind of attitude. But with Alfred, the fondness tended to outshine his annoyance. That didn’t happen with most people.

Savino rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I did.”

“I liked kissing you too. I’ve been wanting to kiss you for ages. I could kiss you all day long. Well, except for when I have to go to the bathroom or something like that. But other than that, pretty much all the time.”

Savino shook his head and laughed again. “God, I love you.” The words slipped out, because they were so easy to say. Fredo was a dork who would openly admit to wanting to kiss Savino all the time, and he wasn’t even exaggerating. He looked like a goddamned movie star, but even with his occasional moments of arrogance, he never seemed to realize how ludicrously attractive he was, much less how he could have anyone in the world wrapped around his pinkie finger. America made Romano laugh and smile more than anyone else ever had. Of course Savino loved him.

Alfred blinked in shock, he’d just seen the face of God, but somehow more astounded than that. Then he grinned, with the adoration of a child to its mother or a puppy to its owner, but somehow purer and more loving than that too. Savino’s internal similes were failing him.

Alfred’s words were failing him too. “I love you too! I love you so much, I just—” He didn’t finish his sentence and resorted to covering Savino’s face with ecstatic kisses.

Savino giggled at his overexuberance. “Tesoro, I believe you. You don’t have to prove it, okay?”

“But I want to.”

Fair enough, Savino supposed. He laid there, grinning like an idiot in the snowbank, and let Alfred keep kissing his face. His hat had been knocked off earlier when Alfred flipped them over, and the cold at the back of his head and the nape of his neck was starting to get to him, but he was trying to ignore that.

When he noticed Savino shivering, Alfred sat up and pulled him into his lap. “Better?”

“Much.” Romano saw his hat on the ground and frowned in indecision. It had been laying in the snow for a long time, so it would probably only make his head colder, not warmer.

So instead of reaching over to get his hat, he nestled his head into America’s shoulder. America wrapped both arms around him in a clingy embrace.

“Now it’s perfect,” Savino decided.

Alfred kissed the top of his head. “Damn right it is.”

Savino wasn’t quite warm due to the temperature outside, but he was content and drowsy. The rhythm of Alfred’s breathing was oddly soothing.

That rhythm was interrupted by an abrupt laugh. “Dude, I just realized. If someone came by looking for us, they’d find you curled up in my lap instead of running after me and throwing snowballs. They’d be confused as hell.”

“Let ‘em be confused. I don’t really care what they think, do you?”

Alfred squeezed him a little tighter, and Savino didn’t have to look up to know that he was smiling.

“I never did. I’m just happy to be holding you.”

Savino’s face was warm, and he was blushing at least as badly as Alfred had been earlier, after Savino had implied he might do something to him that wasn’t appropriate for a public park. He wasn’t used to this much affection, and maybe he never would be.

But Romano didn’t care who might walk by and see him blushing with a cheesy grin on his face. He was happy, Alfred was holding him, and that was all that fucking mattered.

[dameronology]

tea & whiskey {jack daniels x reader} - 3

3 - an examination of agent tequila and why he takes rejection so damn hard

summary: after tequila is on the receiving end of your stress, jack decides to help you de-stress in the only way he knows how: alcohol. what could go wrong? (series masterlist) 

warnings: language 

honestly this might be my fave chapter yet 

- jazz

song for this chapter: oil on water by bastille 

Within a few weeks of being in New York City, you’d fallen into a routine. 

You missed London, truly and deeply, but it was almost as if you didn’t have time to think about it. Between being dragged into more undercover missions with Whiskey, keeping up with Merlin’s demanding schedule and trying to tail Calahan and his contacts, you were lucky if you had time to sit down and have a cup of coffee. Being a Statesman was much more fast-paced than working at Kingsman; you didn’t dislike it by any means, but you had a pool-sized bathtub waiting in your shiny, new apartment that you never got to use. You were pulling five or six late nights a week, usually not leaving the office till 10PM. 

Working with Jack Daniels was...an experience. He was nice, in some ways -- he always brought you coffee when he went to get some for himself, and he drove you home on those late nights so that you didn’t have to take the subways. He had a few annoying habits - namely the fact he never seemed to shut up or ever use your real name, instead opting for a thousand different nicknames - but he was more than tolerable. He worked hard and played hard, and you respected that. He helped you stay hot on Calahan’s tail and that was the most important thing. 

On your third week in New York, Merlin flew out to see you. You’d been keeping him up to date with weekly briefings, but he’d wanted to come out and have a proper look at the actual work you and Jack had been doing. The evening before he arrived, you’d pulled an all-nighter to try and organise the files. Whiskey seemingly had no organisational skills, instead opting for a stack of folders that had no meaningful order. The paperwork was endless, not unlike Jack’s energy the following morning. 

‘Anyways, so I tell the guy to go fuck his moth-’

‘- Jack.’ You held your hand out to him, motioning him to shut the hell up as you rubbed your temples. ‘I appreciate all your funny stories of when you were a fratboy in Yeehaw Land but I have to get this done.’

‘What’s with you this morning, tea?’ Jack looked up from his laptop, brow furrowing. ‘You haven’t insulted me once since you walked through that damn door two hours ago and I’m starting to become concerned.’

‘I just have a lot of work to do.’ You replied. ‘Merlin is landing any minute now and I...how did you put it last week? I’m as busy as a cat covering crap on a marble floor.’

‘Southern sayings don’t quite right with your accent.’ He offered you a smile. ‘So what if Baldilocks is on his way? You’ve been doing your job real good these last few weeks.’

‘Merlin is...particular.’ You let your eyes trail away from your screen and out towards the view of the city beside your desk. ‘Everything has to be perfect or I might as well have spent the last three weeks shitting in my hands and clapping.’ 

‘They didn’t praise you much at Kingsman, huh?’ Jack quirked an eyebrow.

‘I never gave it much thought but I guess you’re right.’ You shrugged. ‘Why would they praise us for meeting expectations? A slap on the back for doing the bare minimum is pointless.’

It was true: praise at Kingsman was far and few - and you only got for achieving superhuman standards. If you were bad at your job, they would fire you. If they were good, they kept you. That’s how it worked. That’s how it had always worked. You’d never had so much as a well done! or a you’re doing great! from Merlin, nor Harry or Arthur. It had been odd at first but you’d become used to it.

‘What you do is not the bare minimum.’ Whiskey shook his head. ‘You do you know you’re a good agent, right?’

Jack had been impressed with you over the last few weeks. You seemed to embody the very energy of getting shit done. You worked through your lunch breaks and arrived to the office earlier than everyone -- and then you left later than everyone. He was surprised you didn’t hold a more senior position, if anything.

‘I mean, I guess?’ You averted your glance back towards him. ‘I work hard. I’m just hoping it pays off some day.’

‘Just-’ Jack sighed, pausing for a moment. ‘Don’t worry about the paperwork, okay? I can vouch for the fact you’ve worked your pretty little-

‘- watch it, Jack-’

‘- that you’ve worked hard.’ He quickly back tracked on his words. 

‘That’s a dollar in the arse comment jar.’

‘I didn’t even get to finish it though!’ He held his hands up in surrender. ‘And it’s not even worth taking those dollars home with you, not with this exchange rate.’

Before the conversation could go any further, Tequila stuck his head around your office door. He’d been out in the field for the last week so you hadn’t seem him that much. Having been in South America, he’d caught a slight tan. That lead your mind back to your previous missions with him -- he’d had terrible Spanish. Truly awful.

‘Merlin is here, Percy.’ He announced. ‘He’s in with Champ now. Come whenever. You too, Whiskey.’

‘Have you ever heard of knocking?’ Jack raised his eyebrows at him. 

‘The door was open.’

‘Still, it’s etiquette-’

‘- hey, Patrick! Spongebob!’ You slammed your fist on the table. ‘There’s more important things to worry about.’

--

Half an hour later, you were waiting outside of a meeting room on the top floor of the Statesman building. Jack, Merlin and Champ were all on the other side of the door, checking over your work. You had no reason to be nervous -- you’d done your job and you’d done it well. Besides, you knew that Whiskey would fight your corner if Merlin became finnicky. He’d said it himself earlier. You appreciated that. 

‘I’ve been in Chile the last few weeks.’ Tequila leant against the wall beside you, adjusting his hat as he peered down at you.

‘I know. Your new hat is a Chilean brand and you have a tan.’ You replied, attention still clearly on the door in front of you. 

‘Damn. I never pegged you to be so observant.’

‘I’m literally a secret agent.’ You shot back. ‘It’s kind of an entry requirement.’

‘Or maybe...’ He adjusted his stance. ‘It’s because you fancy me.’

‘Fancy you?!’ You turned your head to look at him in disbelief. ‘How old are you? Twelve?’

‘I just mean that you’re single and hot. I’m single and hot.’ He continued, barely faltering. ‘You’ve been working your ass off these last few weeks. If you need help relaxing, you know where-’

Tequila barely had a chance to blink before you’d moved from beside him, pinning him to the wall with an elbow over his throat. He blinked in surprise; both at your speed and strength, especially considering that he was much beefier than you. It wasn’t exactly hard. You’d taken on men twice his size and strength. 

‘Try and come onto me again and I will make you eat your hat.’ You threatened. 

‘It was just a suggestion-’

‘- did I stutter?’

‘No, ma’am.’ Tequila muttered. ‘Sorry, ma’am.’

‘What in the holy hell is going on here?!’ 

You hadn’t heard Champ leave the meeting room - or Jack and Merlin for that matter. The three were stood with wide eyes and gaped mouths at the sight of you holding one of their best agents to the wall. You quickly took a step back, letting Tequila fall onto his ass with a sweet thump. 

You dusted yourself off. ‘I was simply teaching Agent Tequila the value of workplace boundaries.’

Turning away, you strode off and down the corridor, the sound of your heels clicking against the ground ringing behind you. Tequila might have just been trying to shoot his shot but damn, you were sick of it happening. You’d had it during your training, from some of the guys at Kingsman and especially on missions. The amount of men that assumed you needed a ring on your finger or a proposition from them to have a good time was beyond you. Could you not just do your job? It was one thing to have a flurry of nicknames but you drew the line at being constantly hit on and asked out. 

Stalking to your office, you slammed the door behind you and took a seat at your desk. An oh for fuck’s sake! escaped your mouth upon realising that you’d left all of your files with Merlin. That meant no work to do - which meant that the tiredness and consequences of your late night were about to hit you like a ton of bricks.

You made your way over to Jack’s desk, taking a glass and decanting some of the whiskey that was inside it. Drinking on the job wasn’t usually your style, but you were stressed. Calahan was still on the loose. Both of your bosses had just seen you drop kick another agent. It felt like you had been in the States for nearly a month and had no work to show for it. 

‘Is it okay if I come in?’

‘It’s your office, Whiskey.’ You didn’t bother turning to face him. 

‘Well, that can’t be good - you only ever call me Whiskey when you’re mad.’ 

Jack was right -- and it was something he’d noticed not long after you’d met. You’d started calling him by his first name not long after you’d pulled your first all-nighter together. He’d given you a ride home and it had started with a thanks, Jack. He’d come to discover that he liked how it sounded when you said it. It was so rare that anyone called him that, that it almost felt like it meant something. 

‘Sorry.’ You took the glass, returning to your desk.’ You said. ‘I’m stressed and Tequila didn’t help. There’s paperwork and deadlines and I have done nothing worthwhile since I landed nearly four weeks ago.’

‘That’s not entirely true.’ He replied. ‘You’ve arrested six of Calahan’s spies, found information that lead to a raid on one of his bases and you just hit Tequila harder than a semi to a fox on the highway.’

‘I should probably apologise to him.’ You groaned. 

‘I wouldn’t bother, sugar’ Jack shook his head. ‘You’re being too hard on yourself.’

‘Yeah.’ You stared off into the distance, sipping some of your drink. ‘Maybe.’

‘What are you doing tonight?’

You faltered, turning to look at the cowboy in disbelief. ‘Are you serious, Jack?! You just saw me deck Tequila for trying to make a move. You think I won’t slap that moustache right off of your-’

‘- hold your fucking horses!’ He cut you off. ‘If you’d let me finish my goddamn sentence! I was going to offer to show you a bar that I go to when I’m stressed. The alcohol is cheap and the music is good.’

‘You mean as....colleagues?’

‘I was going to say friends.’ 

---

It was beyond you how Jack had convinced you to come to a cowboy bar in the middle of Manhattan on a Tuesday night. He’d made a few comments about having a stick up your ass, then with a promise to reschedule your meeting the following morning and pay for your drinks, you’d finally said yes. It can’t have hurt to take a night off - in fact, you’d barely had one since you’d got to the city. A few drinks and the company of the most tolerable man at Statesman could do good for you, you figured. 

Having changed your heels and dress out for boots, jeans and a leather jacket, you already felt a little more relaxed. The Statesman weren’t even as strict as the Kingsman about what their agents wore, but you had the latter’s emphasis on looking formal so ingrained into your brain that it was practically second nature. The pain of wearing high heels every day was long gone. 

The bar itself was as you’d expected. Dimly lit, and filled with people in cowboy hats and boots. There was a country song playing from a jukebox in the corner and the air was stuffy; a mix of tobacco, stale beer and crisps chips.It wasn’t that different from the dodgy pubs you and Eggsy had frequented in your late teens. 

Jack was dressed a little more casual too, wearing a button down and leather jacket instead of his usual blazer and tie. What were you here as again...friends or colleagues? Actually, it had been a compromise. Friendly colleagues. 

‘Alright, sweetheart, we’ll go here.’ He pulled you over to two empty stalls at the bar. ‘What’s your poison?’

‘Rum.’ You replied. 

Jack’s nicknames didn’t bother you anymore. You’d come to accept the fact that they were simply part of his dialect rather than a place of affection. It was the same with Champ, and even Ginger. It was no different to you calling your own colleagues mate or pal. 

‘Damn.’ Jack murmured. ‘Off to a strong start.’

You took the glass from his hand, clinking it against his. Naturally, he’d gotten Jack Daniels whiskey. Then again, if you were named after an alcohol, you probably would have drunk it constantly too. But then again again, you drank it constantly anyways. 

The evening was a little awkward at first -- what were you supposed to talk about aside from work? That’s what all your previous conversations had been about, even during all your late nights. They usually consisted of Jack reciting stories of wild missions during his younger days as an agent. You had a few crazy ones, but they seemed to pale in comparison. There wasn’t as much crazy shit in Britain. 

You didn’t know whether you should have been asking him questions about his personal life. Wasn’t he your boss, formally speaking? Jack was a higher rank than you. He ran the whole damn Manhattan office when Champ was out. That thought was what lead you to realise that you’d hardly given his life outside of the agency much pondering. You knew he didn’t exist solely to be an agent, but he spent as much time working as you did and you existed solely to be an agent. 

Did he have a wife? Kids? Based on how long he spent working, you figured it was unlikely. Being an agent didn’t really offer a healthy work-life balance. You knew that he lived in an apartment near Hudson Yards, so that meant he was probably rich too. He did have shares in the company that fronted Statesman, and it was one of the best selling bourbons on the market. 

You spent the better part of two hours trying to deduce him through conversation before you realised that you could have just asked. Jack had called you his friend. That counted for something. Plus, you had two hours worth of alcohol and a fair few shots of rum floating around your system. It was liquid courage, after all. 

‘So what’s your deal?’ You slapped your fist on the bar. 

‘My deal?’ Jack raised an eyebrow at you. ‘The hell d’you mean, sugar?’

‘Like...what’s your life outside of Statesman?’

‘Statesman is my life.’ He quipped. ‘In the same way Kingsman is yours.

‘Damn.’ You murmured. ‘But Kingsman isn’t my whole life.’

‘Oh yeah?’ He smiled at you. ‘What else do you do then?’

‘I have an orchid at home!’ You exclaimed. ‘Although I did ask Eggsy to look after while I’m here so it’s probably dead.’

‘You miss him, don’t you?’

‘The orchid?’

‘No. Eggsy.’

‘Oh, right!’ You let out a tipsy giggle. ‘I mean...yeah. He’s my best mate. This is the longest I’ve gone without seeing him ever. I FaceTimed him the other night but he’s with Tilde.’

‘Girlfriend?’

‘Yeah.’ You solemnly nodded. ‘And do not mistake my sad face for jealousy! I love Tilde. And I love Eggsy. It’s just hard not seeing him, or having someone to bully everyday.’

‘Hey, I’m right here if you need someone!’ Jack nudged you with his elbow. ‘Just...no comments on my accent. Or my hat. Or my moustache.’

‘Okay, I’ll just rip into your personality then, shall I?’

‘Please. As if you could find anything bad about my personality. I’m fan-fucking-tastic.’

--

The rest of the night went quickly. 

Once you and Jack had veered away from talking about work, the conversation felt natural. He was easy to banter with and it made talking to him easy. The fact he was paying for drinks too was proving to be a slippery slope - for him and for you. The more you ordered, the more he tried to outdrink you. That was when the evening had taken a bit of a turn. 

You hadn’t mean for it to happen, but your temper tended to slip up when you were drunk. It was easy to describe you as trigger happy at the best of times, let alone when you had a few shots in your system. And, you were by no means wankered beyond repair, or so drunk that you couldn’t walk, but you had proven yourself to be drunk beyond normal rationale. 

It was all a blur, really.

You’d seen a man try to follow a girl into the toilets and in true sisterhood style, you’d flown after him in an attempt to save her. There had been punches thrown - in both your direction and his - and it had resulted in the two of you both being kicked out. Jack had followed suit, rushing out after you with your jacket and bag. A true Southern gentleman indeed. 

‘It was his wife.’ Jack had been muttering the same words over and over. He was knelt in front of you, dabbing at your bloody nose with some cotton balls. ‘He was following her into the toilet because they were married-’

‘- how the hell was I supposed to know that?!’ You snapped, wincing in pain. You made a mental note not to raise your voice too much. ‘I’ve had things like that happen to me before. I just wanted to make sure she was safe.

‘You could have gotten me to check it out.’ He reasoned. ‘I might have had to have gone into the ladies’ toilets but you can be damn sure I wouldn’t have punched the guy.’

Jack’s hands were steady as he worked to clean up your nose. Somehow, you’d ended up in his living room -- he’d refused to let you go back to your own apartment in a bloody state. On the bright side, his place was a thousand times nicer than yours. And, given your jacuzzi bath tub and flat screen TV, that was truly saying something. His felt a little more homely, and a little more lived in. He had random knick-knacks lying around; there was magazines on the table and piles of shoes by the doors. You, meanwhile, had been living out of a suitcase. 

Once he was done, Jack stood up and dropped onto the couch next to you. He stared at you for a moment, pondering what to say. You didn’t look too tired; your eyes were slightly hooded and hazy from the drinks, but the sock to your face had sobered you both up to the point where you might as well have only had one or two shots. 

‘God, what must you think of me?’ You finally spoke, flopping back against the cushion behind you.

Jack frowned. ‘What on Earth do you mean?’

‘You saw me deck Tequila this morning and then attack a guy in the bar.’ You snorted. ‘I’m not a violent person. I promise.’

‘I don’t think you are.’ He replied. ‘I definitely think you could knock a man into the middle of next week looking both ways for Sunday but I think it’s admirable.’

You couldn’t help but cackle. ‘Admirable?!’

‘A lot of people run their mouths but very few would actually square up when things came down to it.’ Jack shrugged. ‘I know y’all believe in manners maketh man but I think fury maketh woman.’ 

‘Fury maketh woman.’ You repeated the words back to him, turning your head to face him. 

A moment of silence fell over you after that. Not an awkward one, but rather a comfortable one. Things weren’t so hazy anymore - if anything, that guy punching you had been rather sobering. Meanwhile, Jack definitely looked like he’d been around the block a little bit; he’d long ditched the hat, leaving his dark hair in a ruffled mess. You were holding his gaze, looking intently at his eyes. 

They were brown - but no shit, Sherlock. You knew that. What you hadn’t noticed was the way they creased when he laughed, or the fact they had little gold flecks in them. And they looked a little more caramel under the bright white lights of his living room. The man had a chandelier. An actual fucking chandelier. In 2020. 

If you could just lean a little closer to get a better look. 

Just a tiny bit. 

Just edge a little bit closer, not too much and -

- Shit. 

His lips caught yours halfway, and you suddenly realised that you hadn’t been trying to look at his eyes at all. No, absolutely not. Had you wanted to kiss him this whole time? Or had the urge just suddenly over come you this split second? 

Either way, it didn’t matter because Jack Daniels was a fucking good kisser. He was giving and soft, but there was a hint of something deeper too. Desire? Lust? You didn’t really possess the brain capacity to figure it out, not when he was biting at your bottom lip and gently holding one hand against the back of your head. His large, calloused hands were clutching loosely at your, pulling you into him It was so good that you let out a moan in your head. 

Except, it wasn’t in your head. It was very much out loud, and right into his mouth. Your immediate reaction was to consider pulling back, to apologise straight away and swear never to talk about it - but he liked it. You felt Jack smile against you. He placed his hands on your hips and gently manoeuvred you into his lap, being careful to avoid putting too much pressure on your sore nose.

It didn’t take an idiot to work out where this was going, and you were both pretty smart people. Smart enough to know that it was going to make things awkward in the morning, and then everyday after that. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the fact that his kisses were more intoxicating than any spirit you could possibly have consumed. You didn’t know.

And frankly, you didn’t care. 

[jj-scottsbee]

You Broke Me

Prompt: You were married to Loki when he let go of the staff, you thought he was dead, as did everyone. You refused to stay where your husband had died. Odin agreed to let you live on Asgard, as long as you kept to yourself. You had lived a peaceful life, until one day your brother-in-law comes knocking on your door.

Warnings: language, angst, death

You were Sόl, the Goddess of the Sun. You were not one for formal names and preferred to be called Y/N. You were the wife of Loki the God of Mischief. The day that Loki had died, was the day you had lost your entire world. You knew what he had done was wrong, but that didn't make your loss any easier. Loki may have been known as a snake throughout Asgard, but he was the most delightful husband. He had treated you like the goddess you were and he worshiped you, as you did him. 

You could not bear living in Asgard by yourself. You did have Frigga and Thor, but it was not the same without your lover. It was not long after Loki's death that you had discussed leaving Asgard. You begged the All-Father to let you go, to let you live a life away from your husband's death bed. Odin had refused your request, so you disobeyed your king. You fled from Asgard, leaving your entire life behind you. You cut all ties, you hid from your King, using magic to shield yourself from his watchful gaze. Heimdall understood your pain, he was hesitant to let you go, but after seeing the look in your eye, he opened the Bifrost to Midgard. You left with no goodbye and no second thoughts. 

~ ~

 "So reindeer games was actually able to snag himself a wife?" Tony questioned, as he flew beside the Quinjet. The team of five made their way quickly, needing to find you as soon as possible. They had Loki detained but didn't know how to get through to him. You were Thor's last chance to save his little brother from his gruesome mistakes.  "She is a beautiful and kind-hearted lady. But I warn you, she can have a temper bigger than Odin himself when angry. You mustn't cause her any distress or show her ill-will. She is sweet, but she is much more powerful than Loki and when angered she can unleash nothing, but dangerous fury." Thor warned his teammates as he stood behind Natasha and Steve, who sat flying the jet.  "How dangerous is she exactly?" Nat asked  over her shoulder concerned, but made sure to keep her eyes on the sky. Everyone listened intently waiting for Thor's answer.  "I would not dare challenge her when she is in one of her moods." Thor shook his head in a matter-of-fact manner, memories of the consequences of your anger coming back to his mind. "She had once caused a drought so terrible, in both Asgard and Midgard, that my Father had to plead with her to calm down."  "We're all dead. We should have just taken our chances with Loki," Bruce sighed putting his head in his hands. He sat behind Thor on one of the benches that lined the walls of the expensive jet. For the rest of the flight, the team traveled with an uneasy feeling.  They landed the jet only a mile from your house, in a field just on the other side of the woods that surrounded your home. You had settled into a tiny cottage in the middle of the woods. You avoided the large cities and the chaos they held within. Instead, you sat a few miles just outside of a small town, only venturing into it for groceries. It wasn't often that you went into to town for groceries, as you grew most of your food, but sometimes you wanted some meat.  You stood in the kitchen, the sun had been shining on your face through the window above your sink as you washed your dishes. It warmed your face, the sun being one of the things that kept you happy. When heavy, dark clouds moved in a little too quickly, you became suspicious. You were often able to nudge rain clouds along, so you could enjoy the sunlight, but these clouds were much heavier than the rest. Then the flash of lightning split through the sky, the roar of thunder followed soon after. You knew whose presence that storm had brought.  Only four out of the five heroes reached the treeline, Bruce had stayed back in case they needed to make a quick escape. Thor stopped as he broke out of the woods, staring at the small cottage. He looked at the sky and realized his mistake, he had given himself up. 

"She knows I am here. Remember, do not threaten her." He commanded. They nodded, but everyone still kept their guard up. Tony sat in his iron suit, Natasha held one of her guns close to her hip, and Steve held his shield in front of his chest. 

 Thor had immediately tried your front door, not bothering to knock as he pushed his way in. All of the lights in the house were dark, leaving the house unlit. Thor crept through the house looking for you, not knowing if you were home. 

 "Well, this is quite simple for an Asgardian Princess," Tony called from the kitchen as he studied the freshly cut carrots. A creak on the floor sent him whirling around, his hand flying out in front of him defensively as he aimed the repulsors in the direction of the sound. Before his suit was able to let any shots loose, you faced your palm towards the ceiling, throwing Tony on it. His back hit the ceiling hard, knocking the air out of him. You threw him through the wall, sending him flying into the now muddy ground. 

  "That fucking hurt," Tony grunted as he began to push himself off the ground. Steve and Natasha were quick to sprint into the kitchen, but you faced both of your palms at the duo. You shoved their backs against the wall without even touching them. You gave them a cold stare, your eyes glowing the golden color of fire. 

 "Sόl, stop this. We have only come to talk." Thor tried to reason with you. Surprise covered your face, but only for a second as you flicked both wrists toward the hole Tony's suited body had made in your house. The other two heroes flew right into Tony who had just caught his breath. "Sister, we mean no harm." 

 "The metal man took aim at me, I am defending myself." You growled, your demeanor was tense and your stare still cold. Thor gently let go of Mjölnir, letting it fall to the ground. He raised his hands, surrendering to you. You looked at the hammer on the floor and then back up to your brother-in-law’s face. You dropped your hands to your side but refused to move. 

 "Sόl, I have urgent news." He pleaded with you, as you finally began to relax a shield came flying at your head. With ease you stuck out your arm, catching it in your hand before it could catch you in the head. You carefully slipped your gaze from Thor and towards the culprit of the flying shield. You were quick to drop the shield, catching the fist of Captain America as he hurled it at your cheek. Using your free hand you clenched your hand around his throat. You lifted the super-soldier off his feet by his throat, watching as he clawed at your hand. You narrowed your eyes at the blonde man, an emotionless look on your face, as you cocked your head to the side. You ignored Thor's plea's to put his companion down, watching the soldier struggle a little longer. 

 "Throw that over sized frisbee at me again and I will force it down your throat, your growled pulling Steve closer to your face. “And You know better Thor, then to call me Sόl. My name is Y/N and you do not bring strangers into my house unannounced.”

 "Are we good? Anyone else you'd like to share your kink with?" Tony asked, referring to you chocking Steve. You rolled your eyes in response. 

 "Hey, Thor maybe next time, tell us she has telekinetic abilities," Steve choked out, holding his throat as he stood up. You looked him up and down, unimpressed. How could such a man as himself, be so easily taken. 

 "Why have you come." You turned to Thor ignoring the rest of the team. 

 "We have much to discuss."

~ ~

"You speak not of my Loki. He is dead." You whispered hugging your arms around your torso. You and the other four sat around your living room, you hugged yourself as Thor told you of the monstrosities Loki had done. 

"Y/N, I would not lie about such a thing. Loki is alive and he threatens the lives of millions of Midgardians. I beg you, you must show him the wrong of his ways." Thor sat on the edge of your coffee table across from you, grabbing your hands gently as he pleaded with you. 

 "Thor, I left Asgard to get be free from Loki. Whoever you talk of is not my dead husband." You sniffed, removing your hands from his. "I have no place in this war that you speak of. Now, leave." 

 "I will tell Odin of your location, I will show him here myself. I would not have bothered to find you if it was not an important matter. I have missed you dearly, but I understand your leaving. You must make things right sister, help me bring Loki home." 

 "You throw threats at me as if they mean anything to me! You may have been my brother-in-law, but I owe you NOTHING. THAT MAN THAT YOU HAVE DESCRIBED IS NOT MY HUSBAND, my husband is dead. If you wish to give me away to Odin, then so be it." You lashed out at Thor, not wanting to discuss Loki any longer. You refused to believe that your husband had left you, had let you mourn him, had let his death break you, only to still be alive.

 "Please, you don't that it isn't Loki for sure. Please just come with us, we need you on our side." 

 "I WILL NOT TAKE ANY PART IN YOUR WAR. I do not want to see any more deaths take place. You are on your own. Leave before I crush the breath from the lungs of these mortals." Your eyes began to glow once again, little cracks showing in your face. The cracks gave off a glow that matched your eyes. Thor looked at you with sympathy, those cracks had formed after Loki had left.

 The team gave you defeated looks, collecting themselves. Thor went to plead with you one last time, but you had disappeared before he could say anything more. With tears streaming down your face, you watched as Thor walked back into the woods.

~ ~

 You sensed as the battle began, the guilt grew in your stomach. You watched as the fight was broadcasted all over the news. You scoffed at how stupid the mortals were, instead of running they wished to televise an invasion. 

 Just as you were about to turn the tv off you caught a glimpse of him. You hurried towards the tv, trying to find that horned helmet once again. Your heart sank as Thor had told you the truth, in seconds you stood straight. You closed your eyes, envisioning the now damaged streets of New York City. You felt your feet leave the ground for a split second and then they connected again. You opened your eyes, just in time to rip an alien ship in half. You sent the two soldiers flying to opposite sides. 

 Your eyes glowed as you briskly walked toward the Stark Tower, ripping apart any threats that stood in your way. Steve was quick to spot you, as you walked angrily through the damaged street. Your eyes held a deadly look, your teeth bared as you easily fought the foe. 

 "We've got some unexpected help," Steve said excitedly into his earpiece. 

 Thor was quick to find you as soon as Steve let the team know, the cavalry had arrived. You had shown up in jeans and a tank-top, they were ripped as you fought off several aliens at once. You had become cornered by too many and as you did your best to fight all of them off, you were losing. Just before they all reached you, an all too familiar hammer came flying to your rescue.  

 "Glad to see you decided to join us." Thor laughed, as you stood back to back fighting. 

 "Where is he." You growled you took no pleasure in being there. Thor gave you an uneasy look but quickly grabbed you by the waist. He flew the two of you in the direction of Loki, who sat on the balcony of Stark Tower. You dismissed Thor once he had dropped you off, telling him to go take care of the ones threatening the city. 

 Loki held an insane smile on his face, as he watched the destruction carry on. He laughed excitedly as he saw his army taking over. He took no notice as you walked up behind him, you stopped several feet behind him. You took in his figure, the laugh that sounded so much like him, but wasn't the 'him' that you had loved so dearly. 

 "Loki..." You trailed off. His body stiffened as he heard your voice, he contemplated with himself if it was truly you or just his imagination. He refused to turn around, he stared down at the destroyed cars that laid in the streets. He begged himself not to turn around and see you. 

 "Why are you here." He asked bitterly. He spoke over his shoulder, not wanting to look you in the eye. He hoped with every inch of his body, that you weren't there, that his mind was simply playing tricks on you.  

 "You live." You said, your tone holding a slight hint of anger. You were overjoyed, but hurt to see him. You wished to run into his arms, wrapping your arms around him and never letting him go again. Your heart shattered and soared at the same time. You held so many emotions inside of your body. "What have you done." 

 "I'm building a kingdom darling." He turned around, an evil smile stood on his face. Never in your long life had Loki scared you, but the look he held, sent fear coursing through your veins. 

 "You let me believe you were dead, only to begin a war?" You asked. "You let me mourn you, TO HAVE A KINGDOM OF YOUR OWN." You screamed the last part of your sentence. 

 "This was something I had to do, I knew you wouldn't understand." He scoffed, his chest now facing you completely. "You were never brightest." 

 You felt your energy surge throughout your body, your blood boiled and you felt your power wishing to be released. You stared daggers at him if looks could kill he would be dead. In one movement, you forced your hand out in front of you, dragging him to come towards you. You grabbed his collar, stopping him from colliding with your body. You brought his face as close together as you could, without touching each other. 

 "You are my equal. YOU WILL NOT speak down to me. You have taken so much from me and yet you keep taking and taking. The Loki I called my husband, is not the man that stands here now." You were hurt and angered by his actions. How could he have done such a thing to you? He had left you broken and alone, without a second thought. How could he have hurt you so? 

 "My, my haven't you been practicing." He smirked, referring to the powers that you held. You quickly shoved him away from you, disgusted by him. 

 "Loki you broke me. I had to flee Asgard, because of your death. You are the love of my life and you left me without a second thought. How could you do that to me?" You said softly, "I don't know what has happened to you or what you were wishing to accomplish, but you will not win. I promise you that."  

 "Are you going to be the one to kill me Y/N? Is that why you came? Because I hurt your heart? My god, you are just as bad as the mortal women I have fucked." He scoffed, he was hurting you purposely. He was pushing you away, the awful things he said were to protect you from what he had become. You slowly began to realize, he did not want you in the fight, he hoped you would flee the pain in your heart too much. 

 "You have broken my heart Loki Laufeyson. I will never forgive you." Small tears flowed down your face, "I have loved you since we were young, I will always love you, but you are no longer the man who captured my heart so long ago." You whispered hurt, your demeanor was tense and you began to ready yourself for a fight. Your eyes glowed and the cracks appeared on your face once again.

 Loki said nothing, a pained look covering his face as he stalked towards you. He towered over you, but you did not back down. You held the eye contact, not daring to look away. You took in his face, the way he was beautifully carved. You admired his entrancing eyes, the eyes you had once loved to stare into. You now saw nothing of the man you once loved. Any trace of your Loki seemed to have vanished. 

 "I will love you always Y/N, but you were not made to be broken," Loki whispered into your ear, as he pulled you close. In a mere blink of an eye, Loki had conjured up a dagger without you noticing and plunged it into your stomach. "You will feel no more pain, my love." 

 You choked in disbelief, your eyes and the cracks that lined your face burning brightly once again. You stared at Loki a single tear falling as you slowly slipped to the ground, Loki holding you the whole way down. He stared at you in agony, he had hoped you were never to see him again. He had hoped that his brother would have kept you away from him. He ran his fingers over the cracks in your face, as he eyed the cracks he had caused you. You let out a couple of choked coughs, blood filling your mouth. 

 "Yo...you are not m-my Loki." You whispered with your dying breath. You let one last breath escape your lips before the light of your eyes went out. Just as your heart had broken so many years ago, Loki's shattered as you said your last words to him. 

 "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!" came Thor's booming voice, as he stood in front of his younger brother. The sky turned almost pitch black, lightning flashed through the sky and thunder roared as it rolled through the sky. 

 Loki paid no attention to his brother's anger, his eyes never leaving you as you lie dead in his lap. He had taken his whole world away from himself and for what? A kingdom that he would never love without you as his queen.

[giorno-plays-piano]

Sleep tight Part 2

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, stalking, kidnapping, non-consensual drug use, allusion to breeding.

Words: 3571.

Summary: You know someone tried to break into your apartment, but no one believes you since you live in the very same building as famous Captain America. Who is willing to risk it?

Part 1

____________

Your instincts were telling you to ran and shout and scream until somebody would be aware that you were trapped in your own room with a psycho beneath your bed. You needed to get out and find your cousin before it was too late, before he took you away like he promised and did to you whatever his sick mind was telling him to.

Strangely, your legs were not moving as if you lost control over your own body. You were shaking feverishly, but you couldn't force youself to stand up.

Wasn't it too late already? He knew who you were. He knew who your cousin was. He knew all the places where you could hide and all your relatives who would try helping you. How easy would it be for him to kill them all? He was Steve Rogers, the man who had never failed. If he didn't get you now, he'd make sure to tear your world apart in revenge.

You tried moving your legs but failed miserably again. Did your own body betray you? Was it Captain who gave you more of his medicine?

You were stuck here. There was no way out.

"S-steve?" You whispered, bending down a bit and looking at your feet.

When he touched your ankle with his cold hand, a ragged scream ripped from your throat - you were watching him getting out from under your bed like a spider, a mutilated monster, a nightmare in a form of a man. You landed on the floor with a heavy thud, trying to get away from him, crawling to the door, but Steve was already on top of you, injecting another medicine with syringe into your neck. Though he didn't finish yet, you already felt your body freezing. You were getting cold, your eyelids heavy. You thought it was the end when you closed your eyes, listening to Steve's loud heartbeat right above you.

Of course, it wasn't the end. He didn't plan on murdering you now; he only wanted to take you to the other location where you would be safe and sound with him. He'd prefer you to stay conscious, but you had enough stress already with that unhealthy lifestyle of yours, too much work on your shoulders, and lack of sympathy from the people surrounding you. Steve couldn't demand too much from you - you needed some rest.

_____________

The awakening was torturous. Your neck hurt badly from the rough injection, and your head was spinning. You felt like you were on a ship constantly rocked by the waves only to discover you were laying on a bed in a simple room, not a cabin. You didn't recognize this dark empty place, but it was the least of your worries.

You couldn't feel your body below waist.

Moving your fingers, you weakly grabbed the blanket that covered your body, feeling the soft  cotton texture. Your arms lost their strength, but they still felt like a part of you. But your legs... regardless how much you were shaking, your body refused to move even the slightest bit. It was like your lower half wasn't intact anymore. Like somebody cut you in half.

No. No, please, no. NO!

"Shh, honey." His quiet voice cut through the heavy silence, and you find him sitting in the corner of the room in complete darkness. "Please don't stress yourself. It's not good for your health."

You'd laugh at his words if you could, but you weren't able to force even a single sound out of your mouth. He did something to your body. He broke your spine. He made your legs completely useless to you. He made it so you would never leave him, unable to walk.

When Steve got up from his place, you looked at him with pure horror, your eyes filled with tears and open so wide it hurt. He had a concerned expression, watching you tremble with fear. Wasn't he supposed to be happy because he had finally caught you?

The closer he came, the more your teeth chattered almost to the point of breaking. He had taken away your legs. He broke you and he would keep doing it more and more because no one was going to save you from America's most favourite hero. You would die in agony in his hands because he wanted you to.

"Everything is going to be alright, darling." His hand brushed against your forehead, and you whimpered, a thread of saliva running down your cheek from your half-open mouth. You couldn't make yourself speak to him, too shocked and frightened to death. "We're almost there. It's going to take one more day or so, and then we will finally settle down. You don't need to worry about anything."

I don't want to die. I don't want to die. I don't want to die.

His eyes watched your madly shaking figure, and Steve reached out to take your frozen palm in his.

"Why didn't you tell me you're cold, honey?" He frowned and stood up immediately, making you let out a little cry. "Wait a second, I'll give you more blankets."

Blankets. As if you needed any. As if you cared about your body that wasn't functioning properly, half of it just a useless piece of meat now. You felt like you couldn't breathe anymore, gasping for air and feeling like somebody squeezed your lungs with a stony arm.

Steve had returned from the other side of the room shortly with a pile of blankets and carefully unfolded them one by one, covering you with several layers. When he saw you choking, his hands flew to your chest, but your eyes were already rolling back from the lack of oxygen. It didn't take you long to go into the great darkness, sinking into it, feeling nothing at all, even the man's shouting quickly fading away.

It took you even more time before you awoke the next day, your body aching from staying in one position for long, apparently. You were feeling groggy again just like all those mornings in your apartment when your life seemed so boring and uneventful to you. Little did you know, it was heavenly comparing to the complete nightmare you were living in now.

You suddenly realized you could curl your toes on your right foot. And then on the left one too. Your hips felt warm under that huge and heavy comforter.

You could feel. You could feel your lower body.

Then you were crying so hard that at one point you became afraid of being suffocated in your own tears. Steve Rogers didn't break your spine. He did something to you, but your body recovered, nevertheless. Oh, you were strong. You were so strong. He would have hard time trying to break you.

Your euphoria was slowely going away with every minute you spent in solitude in that pretty little room with floral walls. It was the complete opposite of the dark place you woke up after being kidnapped - the new room was furnished very nicely, way better than your own apartment stuffed with cheap things straight from Ikea's sales, and it smelled like roses. Was there a vase with flowers somewhere? It could be. That sick psycho was still playing the role of your loving fiancee.

Wait. Was he under your bed? WAS HE UNDER YOUR BED?

Caring little for the noise you made, you leaned down and lost your grip on the headboard, falling to the floor. You hissed in pain, but then saw there was no one hiding beneath and let out a loud sigh. Relief washed over you. Steve wasn't there. You were completely and utterly alone in the room.

You spent some time listening to any sounds, but you didn't hear anything at all. If Steve was somewhere close, he decided not to show up just yet.

Trying to move as quietly as you could, you got back on your bed and glanced over the room - it was so girly with light pink bed sheets, pillows, chair's upholstery and even a carpet. There was a beautiful vintage vanity with a large mirror - lifting your head, you caught a glimpse of yourself and quickly laid back. You weren't ready to see that just yet.

It was light as day here, but you didn't find any windows. You doubted he would give you a chance to escape through one, and you heart sank at the realization: it wouldn't be surprising if he locked you somewhere underground. Maybe he didn't chop off your legs, yet he took away your opportunity to run away, nonetheless.

Anyway, you could still cry from happiness knowing you were able to walk. It felt like the biggest present somebody could give you.

You didn't know how much time you spent there, staring at the white ceiling and imagining Steve Rogers waiting with an axe behind your door. You didn't hear any sounds whatsoever, even the clock if there was any in the room. Slowly, you started moving your legs again and then clenching your fists real tight. You were in full control of your body, and you wept a little at the thought.

Soon you lifted the comforter and stepped on the pink carpet. Did he put floor heating in here? Your feet felt oddly warm.

Dropping your gaze to your pink silk pyjamas after that, you almost threw up in both disgust and fear. Did that sick pervert do anything to you when you were unconscious? You glanced at the door nervously and took off your top, covering yourself with the comforter in a second. Then you looked at your skin, touching your neck, your breasts and your arms: as far as you could see, there were no marks on your body. It didn't hurt. After that you put the top back on and took off your pants, repeating the same manipulation and finding nothing. Good. He didn't rape you, at least. He couldn't hide this with whatever medication he forced you to take.

Watching youself in a mirror, you wiped a tear running down your cheek. Well, you didn't look as bad as you expected. Certainly not that bad, even after all those horrible things that happened to you.

You searched the room for anything that could help you protect youself but found bothing, not even a pen. You tried grabbing a lamp from your nightstand like the last time, but, apparently, it was glued to the surface. Anyway, how would you protect yourself with it against Captain America? He could break your body in half with his bare arms, and he certainly could have more syringes with whatever fucking drugs he used on you.

You had to go with empty hands. You cringed at the thought, but moved on regardless.

The door was unlocked, and you threw a quick glance at the corridor before stepping away and waiting for Steve to storm into the room. He wasn't there, still, and you swallowed the knot in your throat before opening the door wider with your shaking hands. The dark grey - or green, you weren't sure - colour of the corridor walls made you feel nauseated. It was so much different comparing to the pretty room you woke up in. These walls, however, looked like the walls of a prison.

Was it prison? Had that room ever been a cell before? You covered your mouth with your palm and tried to pull yourseld together. No, it wasn't the right time to vomit. You needed to move.

The room you walked out just now was in the middle of a very long corridor with doors to your left and right. With a lack of light you saw poorly, but you were sure there were no people, at least. After you spent a bit more time standing there to give your eyes time to adjust, you realized that this place had to be huge - the corridor was abnormally long.

Having no clue where to move, you went to your left, feeling very disturbed by the huge difference between the corridor's and your room's appearances. If Steve spent so much money and efforts decorating that place with beautiful furniture and other pieces of interior, why he didn't care to do it anywhere else? Was the room you woke up in the only decent one here?

Oh, you didn't want to open one more door. Breathing heavily, you were covered with cold sweat as you reached for the door knob and softly pushed it, jumping back to the wall beside you.

No sound, no movement, nothing.

Tears were clouding your vision, and you spent one more minute trying to wipe them off before you gathered enough strength to move further. The room you opened was a bedroom just like yours, but not so girly - the walls were covered with light green color, yet the furniture looked as exquisite as in your room. No vanity, however, and nothing to give you at least some protection too. You moved forward.

All those rooms looked pretty fantastic, you had to admit with displeasure. They all were comfortable and completely new.

You stumbled upon more bedrooms, several living rooms, a dozen of restrooms, a walk-in closet, two kitchens and an almost empty cabinet. Although all of them varied in size, you still saw no windows anywhere. And when you found a nursery you cried hard, clenching the fabric of your pyjamas with your teeth.

This place was a maze with more corridors and God knew how many rooms. You had no idea how Rogers could have this house - or whatever it was - running. Well, with his position of Avengers' leader he probably had a fortune to spend.

Oddly enough, all rooms looked pretty as pictures, but not the corridor. It was ugly in every part of the house as if you were supposed to be repulsed to even step outside the room. Maybe it was his intention, you thought. The other strange thing was that Steve was nowhere to be found - you checked every goddamn bed and sofa he could be under, but saw only a dusty floor. Where was he? Wasn't he supposed to be here with you? Not that you objected, though.

You felt tired and hungry after your long jorney.  There was food neither in the kitchen nor in any other room, and your stomach hurt at the thought of chicken nuggets. You'd give up anything for your usual McDonalds meal.

Before you chewed your lips thinking of hot French fries, you heard the distant sound of the door opening - a very heavy door. Probably a metal one.

You were in a bedroom you discovered at last without even realizing what you were doing. The thought of Steve coming to assault you, kill you, and dismember your body caused you to have a panic attack when you were getting behind a huge chair standing in the corner of a room. You couldn't hear anything but the blood pounding in your brain. You didn't remeber whether your screamed or not when the man entered.

Dragging you out the corner you were tucked in, he pushed your head into his chest and then put you onto the bed gently, holding your arms in his when you struggled and kicked involuntarily, not realizing what was happening as the world spin around you. He reached out for his pocket and took out one more syringe - you saw it later as he left it on the nightstand while you were laying on the bed with your body going limp again. But after taking away your strengh, the drug made you regain your sanity instead.

You were laying under the blue blanket, Steve sitting close to you and watching you with a sickly sweet smile of his as he caressed your hair with his hot palm. A few grocery bags were dropped to the floor near him, and you saw a pack of dark red cherry tomatoes almost falling out.

"You must have been scared to be all alone in such huge place. I'm sorry I wasn't waiting for you to wake up in your room, dear." His face lit up when you looked at him, chewing your lips to bits from fear and all that tension, your body pretty mich useless again. "I give you my word to become more considerate in the future. By the way, did you have a good look at our house? You got pretty far."

Pretty damn far. The entrance must have been so close.

You couldn't make youself speak to him again, so you simply nodded, weakly grasping the blanket in your trembling hands. Well, at least you could still feel your own body.

"I wasn't sure what you would like, so I just... filled the space, I guess. Of course, we can make any changes you think are necessary."

Changes? Oh yeah, like having windows and ten times less rooms, not even talking about that obviously thick door preventing you from leaving.

"You'll think about it later. How do you feel now, honey?" His shamelessly pretty eyes looked at you almost innocently, and you felt something like anger rising in your chest. "You will have to take some pills before coming into norm, I have them all here. Nothing that could harm your health, of course! They were prescribed by a very good doctor. The best I could find."

You were close to weeping, listening to Steve talking. You were under his full control again, and of he wanted to break a few of your bones, he could do so easily since you were barely able to move again.

"I'm better." You managed to whisper and shut your mouth when Steve smiled at you, rubbing circles on the back of your hand with his thumb.

"Good. I was getting worried about your constant anxiety. I've told you so many times your lifestyle isn't good for your health, darling! Why have you never listened to me?"

God, he was a madman while you were confined to bed. Your chances to stay alive were miserable.

"I'm sorry, d... dear." You basically pushed these words out of your throat, afraid to make Steve upset. "I will do better."

"I'm glad you heard me out." You shivered and closed your eyes when he leaned closer and dropped a kiss to your forehead.

You expected him to get away and sit straight, but Steve didn't. His face was inches away from yours, and you were afraid to look at him knowing you'd see nothing but the frenzy in his eyes. Captain America was long gone. Someone else had taken his place, and that someone wasn't a good guy ready to sacrifice himself to save his people.

Listening to his erratic breath, you tried to prepare yourself for the end. That was it, right? He'd take that syringe and plunge it into the socket of your eye or into your carotid artery any second. You could feel his madness showing itself on his face even with your eyes closed.

"Why won't you look at me, sweetheart?" His kind voice made you shook. "Come on, open your eyes."

You refused, still. What did it matter?

His breath burned your ear when he spoke next time.

"If you're so willing to run away from me, do you want to play a game?" Steve planted a kiss on your cheek and smiled when you finally opened your eyes. "It's an easy one. Do you like hide and seek?"

You gulped down, watching him like a dangerous animal ready to plunge its fangs into your soft flesh.

"I'll give you ten minutes, and you have to run and hide from me. If I won't find you soon, I'll let you go." His gentle smile was quickly turning sinister while you were left gasping for air. "But if I am going to catch you, I will..."

"No."

He stopped talking and stilled, watching you with wide eyes. The pure confusion on his face looked strange - he didn't understand what you were trying to do.

"I'm not a child." You said, watching him with determination emerging out of nowhere as you spoke. "I don't like these games and I'm tired. I wanna see a movie, Steve."

Was his madness contagious? You certainly felt so, giving him what sounded pretty much like an order. No, you wouldn't play his sick games just to end up mutilated and broken. You'd play yours. You felt so bold and intent to resist him after dreading torture and death so many times. It was like that syringe injected some magic potion into your body, leaving your mind free of fear. What there was for you to lose, anyway?

"Of course, honey! I'm so, so sorry. Of course, you're a grown woman, and it was silly of me to offer you this." He looked... apologetic? Bewildered? Ashamed? "Let me take you to the living room... yes, like that, darling. You're doing so good."

Lifting you in his arms, Steve showed you that warm smile of his once more and carried you away, humming some melody. You put a hand on his chest and listened to his heartbeat that was quickly slowing down. You just escaped your own death, probably. Maybe being a little crazy would actually help you survive.

Once you got an opportunity, you would slit his throat the very first night, you thought.

THE END

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