#ive already tried dropping down from the pole and going in from the side

[salsa-di-pomodoro]

I once again call upon the community to help my unskilled ass. There is a pipe down there how do i get there without drowning

[lizzie-is-here]

acta, non verba

tfatws- part iv

summary: the matchmakers finally get what they’ve been waiting for.

wordcount: 8.7k

warnings: cussing, violence, paparazzi, harassment, accusations of terrorism, panic attack, finally getting the kiss 😌, immediate fluff, bucky getting aggressively therapized by sam

a/n: sorry this took a bit 😭 literally could not figure out how i wanted the kiss to go so sorry if it’s a little weird. hope u enjoy lol 🤍

series masterlist

Walker had gone too far. After murdering a foreign national in the middle of town, he ran off, hiding in some abandoned warehouse. Europe seemed to have a lot of those.

You, Bucky, and Sam ran after him, his newly enhanced stamina allowing him to take the lead as your own super-soldier was stuck by you and Sam. When you finally found him, he was crouched on the ground, head hung low as the bloodied shield laid in his lap. A part of you felt bad for him. So much pressure, only to lose the person who kept him in check. It was pity, you supposed.

He popped his neck before walking towards you three, clearly ready for a fight.

“Walker…” Sam began. The blond cut him off.

“You guys should see a medic, you don’t look so good.”

“Stop, Walker.”

Said man took a small loop, adrenaline still pumping through his veins. “What?” he asked. “You saw what happened. You know what I had to do. I killed him because I had to! He killed Lamar!” Your brows knitted together as he became more manic by the second.

“He didn’t kill Lamar, John,” Bucky said. “Don’t go down that road. Believe me, it doesn’t end well.”

“I’m not like you,” Walker spat.

You sighed. “Listen, Walker, you did something wrong. If you admit it, maybe we can get some sort of defense up and you won’t get into too much-”

“I don’t need your help.”

Sam stepped forward. “Listen, she’s right. It was the heat of battle, okay? If you explain what happened, they may consider your record. We don’t want anyone else to get hurt.” A drop of deep red blood rolled off the shield. “John… You gotta give me the shield, man.”

Walker raised his head slowly, eyes flitting between the three of you. “Oh, so that’s what this is. You almost got me.”

“You made a mistake,” Sam said, shaking his head.

“You don’t wanna do this.”

Bucky exchanged a glance with you. “Yeah, we do.”

You all rushed at each other at the same time, tag-teaming the Captain. However, you were at a disadvantage. You three were fighting to incapacitate. Walker was fighting to kill.

Sam went flying back as Bucky and Walker wrestled for the shield, with you grappling at the latter’s shoulders in an attempt to weaken his grip. If you could get the shield away, you would win. But Walker elbowed Bucky in the face and hit him with the shield before raising it up, aiming for the head.

You ran forward, kicking him away before he sent a punch flying into your already sore side. With a wince, you backed away, grabbing a baton. Sam used his wings to buffet him, but Walker was keeping up. He deflected blows from all three of you, dipping below strikes and swinging the shield at every opportunity. His fighting was fluid, circular even.

As he kicked your friends away, you tried your best to keep his focus away from them, landing blows on his shoulders that proved futile. Stupid fucking super-soldier serum. He grabbed the end of the baton, using the momentum to swing you away.

Bucky went against him next, almost winning thanks to his enhanced strength. It almost looked like he would win before Walker’s eyes went wide, swinging around and hurling the shield at Bucky’s chest, sending him flying into a large piece of construction equipment.

Walker ran forward, evidently viewing Barnes as the greatest threat, grabbing the shield and wrestling for it again. Sam was still on the ground, and you were limping from the sharp pain in your ribs.

“Why are you making me do this?” he screamed, throwing the super-soldier across the room. Bucky slammed into a metal pole full of wiring, sparks flying. You inhaled sharply as he fell to the ground, his arm twitching as electricity ran through it. He wasn’t getting up.

You didn’t have time to check on him before Sam began to attack, barely dodging the edge of the shield as Walker lashed out. You watched them fight, gathering your composure before rushing to help Sam. “Catch!” you yelled, tossing up a spare grappling hook. He caught it, attaching it to the shield before flying back. Walker managed to catch himself, pushing himself back as the shield fell in the middle of the two.

As they both hesitated, you ran forward, reaching for the shield as Walker tackled Sam. You scooped it up, turning around in time to watch him rip Sam’s wings off with a scream of, “I am Captain America!”

You ran, leaping up to shove him off Sam with the front of the shield, sending him skidding away. You took a gasping breath as your side continued to ache. “No, Walker, your marbles are long gone.” With a scream, he tackled you backward, taking the shield from you with little effort.

You shielded your face as he raised it above his head, preparing to meet the same fate as the Flag Smasher. Instead, he was tackled off of you, Bucky landing a few blows. You ran forward to help, gasping aloud when Walker slammed the edge of the shield into Bucky’s head and went in to pull what was becoming his signature move. Sam punched him as you shot his neck with a taser, all three of you working to get the damn shield away from him.

With a sickening crunch, his arm snapped with a scream. Sam rolled away with the shield in hand, and you dragged yourself and Bucky away from the deranged man as he stood once again. “It’s mine,” he growled.

Sam stared him down. “It’s over, John.”

“It’s mine.” He threw a punch at Barnes, who reciprocated with a harsh blow before picking him up by the legs and running forward, Sam meeting in the middle to slam the shield against his upper half. They all collapsed, the shield once again rolling against the concrete floor. You rushed over, still limping, as Bucky picked it up, fulfilling the promise he’d made on the plane.

The light filtered in, casting a golden glow across the shield and the man that it had saved twice now. Once in the ‘40s, once in the 21st century, both times from HYDRA. And he dropped it by Sam. You gently rested a hand on his shoulder, to which he nodded to Sam before turning back to you. A silent message was exchanged before you nodded as well, walking side by side and out of the building.

Onto the next fight. The public.

———————————————————————

It was safe to say that neither of you were able to sleep on the plane ride home, even if the jet was piloted by FRIDAY, with no one else on board. You spent a few hours cleaning each others’ wounds and icing bruises before you both changed into a spare set of clothes that were stashed in the closet. The news was all over the mess, not just covering Walker’s attack, but also your defense of the Flag Smasher.

You held an ice pack to your ribs as a news anchor ranted about you.

“Ms. (Y/N) tried to defend a terrorist. I don’t know if we can trust someone like that to help lead the Avengers, I mean, what if she was secretly working with them? Once a traitor, always a-”

“You shouldn’t watch that shit.” Bucky shut off the TV, wincing as he held an ice pack to the side of his head. You stared numbly from your seat.

“They’re all saying the same thing. If they aren’t talking about Walker, they’re talking about me,” you mumbled, fiddling with the remote. “They have a point, y’know?”

He stared at you as if you had just asked him to leap from the jet. “Are you kidding me? You’re letting them get in your head?”

“It’s not getting in my head, it’s reasonable paranoia. Hell, I don’t really trust me either-”

“Are you seriously going back to that again?” he scoffed. You rose from your seat, a frown forming. “What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked.

“It means, ‘When are you going to get it into your head that whatever you did under HYDRA’s control wasn’t your fault’.” His voice was rising with each word. You scowled, shoving a finger at his chest.

“You aren’t any better about it than I am,” you accused, watching as he stumbled for a response. “And besides, it doesn’t matter, The press is gonna see what they want to see.”

“It matters to me! You can’t keep beating yourself up about something you couldn’t control.”

“‘Couldn’t control’? I was a damn volunteer, Bucky! Of course I had control!”

“You didn’t know they were HYDRA, so no, you didn’t have any control. Why is that so hard for you to accept?” he bit stubbornly. “And you did the right thing with Walker. He went crazy from the serum, just like the Red Skull did.”

You crossed your arms defensively, wincing as your arm brushed the massive bruise spreading across your ribcage. “Well, have a fun time explaining that to the public, because as far as they’re convinced, I’m a double-traitor and-”

“Double-traitor for standing up against an unjust law? Are you fucking insane?”

“Me?! You’re the one-“

“Ms. (L/N), Sergeant Barnes, you’re touching down at the airport. Mr. Hogan is in a car outside gate B.”

At the AI’s soft voice, you took a deep and tired breath. “Thanks, FRI. Tell him we’ll be there. Are there any paparazzi inside?”

“Not in the airport. However, once they get word of your return, they’ll likely crowd the Tower.”

You nodded, fatigue weighing heavy on your mind. As the doors opened and you both began to head across the bridge into the bustling airport, you walked in strained silence. The more casual clothes and typical sunglasses-and-hat combo allowed you two to slip through the crowd as random civilians, only flashing your IDs for security. When you found Happy and slipped into the car, you took off the baseball cap and cheap glasses with a sigh.

“Hey, (Y/N),” he greeted, pulling out of the crammed parking lot.

“Hey, Happy. How’s Pep been?” He shrugged.

“Good. She’s been trying to hire some more employees to delegate some of her work to so that she can work four days a week. Wants to spend more time with Morgan now that she’s in kindergarten.”

You make conversation the whole way to Avengers Tower, with Bucky inserting occasional comments. You could feel him glance over at you every so often, but you kept your eyes either in your lap or on the road. As Happy pulled up by the entrance, you groaned at the sight of reporters and paparazzi surrounding the doors.

“You want security?” he asked. You shook your head, thanking him before steeling your nerves. Throwing an air of fake confidence up, you stepped out of the car, head held high and jaw clenched. Bucky followed suit.

And then the questions began.

“Ms. (L/N), why did you defend that Flag Smasher?” one reporter asked, shoving her microphone in your face. You swallowed.

“Well, John Walker was going to kill him for something he didn’t do. I couldn’t just stand by and let-”

“Fucking terrorist!” a voice yelled from the crowd. You flinched but continued.

“Either way, he no longer has the shield, and it’s in safe hands now.” The crowd clamored over each other, one man pushing through the crowd to grab your shoulder. With no security except Bucky’s glares, they were getting far too close.

“Is it true that you two and the Falcon fought Captain America?”

You thought for a moment. “Well, he’s not really Captain America anymore, is he? No way he keeps that title after killing a foreign national in public.”

“Why are you so keen on defending the Flag Smashers?” Someone asked. The crowd was condensing.

You waved your hands. “Well, I’m not defending their actions, it’s just that killing-”

“Are you one of them?” another man demanded. You smiled nervously.

“What? No, I-” They just kept getting closer, practically suffocating you with how tightly packed the crowd was becoming. Questions flew left and right, so quick you couldn’t even hear yourself think. “Please, don’t touch me,” you muttered as people grabbed at your arms, your voice shaking. Your breaths began to quicken as a few of the angrier civilians began to yell at you, defending Walker’s actions.

As one particularly burly man burst from the rest of the crowd, he stormed towards you, shoving a finger in your face and spitting words out so fast your brain couldn’t catch all of them. “You’re… monster… murderer… Captain America… terrorist…” Your mind was running on autopilot as you began to shut down.

“Are you even listening to me, bitch?” You were literally shaken from your stupor when the man grabbed your arms, jostling you. An immediate presence behind you sent the offender scurrying away.

“She said not to fucking touch her!” Bucky yelled over the cacophony of camera flashes and questions. When he glanced back down at you and saw the panic on your face, he gently held a hand out in front of you. “Hei, hei, poți să te întorci la mine, păpușă? Este în regulă să-mi pun brațul în jurul tău? [Hey, hey, can you turn towards me, doll? Is it alright if I put my arm around you?]” You nodded, barely registering his flesh arm carefully curling around your shoulders and leading you towards the doors, parting the crowd with his steely glares.

Once you got inside and in the elevator, the dam broke. All of the frustration and tiredness finally hitting you at full force. Your knees shook as you began to cry, your throat constricting as you gasped for air. “Panic-“ You swallowed hard, vision tunneling from both lack of air and the tears welling up in your eyes. “Panic attack,” you managed to wheeze. Bucky nodded, gently running his hand on your arm. As the elevator doors slid open to the lounge, he helped you stumble out, guiding you along before your knees fully gave out beneath you.

Without his support, you would’ve hit the ground knees-first, but instead, you were guided safely onto the cold tile, Bucky sitting opposite you. For all of the mental health issues he’d had, he wasn’t too sure about what to do when it was someone else breaking down. Well, he couldn’t just let you cry.

He rested a hand on your arm and you sighed in slight relief, relaxing into his touch. Even the slightest touch felt right, and as you both sat in the hallway, your hiccups and sobs began to subside, each breath coming easier. “Te simți bine [Are you okay]?”

“Eu... nu știu [I… I don’t know].” Your lower lip trembled as you remembered the harsh words of the people outside. “Ei au dreptate? Sunt un monstru? [Are they right? Am I a monster?]” You stared at your hands.

“Nu [No],” he whispered. He sounded so sure of himself, so confident that you weren’t what your mind convinced yourself that you were.

“Cum poți fi atât de sigur [How can you be so sure]?”

Bucky shook his head. “How could I not? ‘A monster wouldn’t feel guilty about their actions,’ right? Isn’t that what you said? You feel just as guilty as I did. I know you’d never even think of doing something like that in your right mind. I trust you.” You stared into his eyes, watching the swirling pattern of blue and grey. He raised a hand to your face, gently wiping away the wet streaks of tears that you’d almost managed to forget about.

“Um… Could I maybe- Not if you don’t want to, but-” He took a deep and mildly frustrated breath. “Nevermind. Can I hug you?”

Your laugh was watery but bright nonetheless. “Of course.” His embrace was warm, encompassing you and blocking out everything else. You leaned against him before sitting back.

“You wanna get off the floor?” he asked, gingerly helping you up. You headed into the lounge’s kitchenette, turned on the stove to heat some water, filled up a pot, and set it over the flame. Grabbing the medkit from under the sink, you pulled yourself onto the counter, inhaling harshly through gritted teeth when you irritated the sore spot on your side.

You bunched up your shirt, frowning at the scrapes covering your ribcage. They needed to be cleaned; infection was a pain in the ass.

Bucky took the peroxide and a paper towel from the medkit, pouring some of the liquid onto the towel. “You ready?” You grumbled, already dreading the sting. “Yeah, yeah. Go ahead.”

It was never as bad as you anticipated, but the alcoholic cleaner still sent a shock through your body. You both winced as you gripped the edge of the marble countertop, sighing when he withdrew the stinging cloth.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, soothing the burning skin with his vibranium arm. “I’m sorry, I know it hurts.” The timer you’d set for the water rang out, interrupting the tender moment.

He took the pot from the stove, pouring the scalding water into a mug. He ambled over to the cabinet, taking your jar of teabags from its spot hidden behind one of Tony’s many bottles of alcohol.

He set it next to you. “Chai, right?” You smiled and nodded, watching as he handed you the teabag and grabbed the milk from the fridge and sugar from the cabinet.

“So, um, I…” He blushed, averting his eyes. “Are you alright now?”

You contemplated your answer.

What the crowd outside had said was a manifestation of your fears. That you truly were the monster HYDRA had twisted you into. Although seeing your family one last time via time travel had helped somewhat, you were missing the final push toward recovery.

But when you looked back to Bucky, concern clear on his face, you realized something. He was that push. He made you want to grow and learn and all of the sappy shit that you used to drag Hallmark about.

But instead of voicing the intimate and relatively poetic words in your head, you just blinked dumbly. “Um. Sorry, what?” You both laughed as you stirred the milk and sugar into your tea, sipping it and allowing the warmth to smooth the aches all over your body.

“Are you alright now?” he repeated, watching you carefully. With a sigh, you nodded. You knew you would be okay. You just had to make it over some bumps.

“Will you be?” you countered. He frowned. You waved a hand as you explained. “I know this hasn’t been the easiest on you. With the whole situation in Madripoor.”

“…Yeah. I just hope Zemo doesn’t cause any more problems.”

At the mention of the fugitive Baron, you glanced down at your tea. “I don’t think he will. He finished what he started, and hopefully, he’s content with that.”

You set the mug down and let Bucky help you off of the counter before wrinkling your nose at the disheveled state you were in. “God, I really need a shower.”

“I’m probably gonna get one too. Do you need any help getting to your room?”

“No, I-“ As you began to step away a searing pain shot through your side. “Oh, fuck. Yeah, I might, actually.”

Your earlier suspicions were confirmed as Bucky helped you through the halls and into your bathroom, patiently supporting you every time a movement caused your side to flare up. James Buchanan Barnes was truly the epitome of chivalry, you decided, watching as he stood awkwardly in the middle of your expansive bathroom.

“Do you want me to go? Or…?” He began to inch out of the doorway before you took his hand, smiling reassuringly.

“You don’t have to. If you want, you can sit in here and take a shower after I’m done?” you offered, still giving him the option to leave. But you both knew he didn’t want to.

“Yeah. I’ll… stay in here if that’s okay. Don’t want you to get hurt.”

He stepped out as you stripped your wrinkled clothes and got into the shower, the glass door quickly fogging up. When you gave him the go-ahead, he sat down, resting his head against one of the many drawers on your vanity.

The hot water ran over your skin, washing away the sweat and fatigue from the past days. The scents of your numerous products wafted through the air as you scrubbed shampoo into your hair.

As you were rinsing out the suds, Bucky spoke up from the other side of the glass door. “So, do you wanna talk about our next move?”

“We can talk about it,” you said, wringing your hair out and reaching for the bottle of conditioner.

“Ok.” He stayed silent as you ran the liquid through the ends of your hair. When he finally spoke up, you were in the middle of lathering a loofah. “We’ll need to get in touch with Sam soon. Like it or not, we need him. Karli’s probably planning her next moves.”

You hummed in assent, beginning to work your way through your skincare routine.

“I’m really sorry about all this, I feel like you got dragged into all of it.”

“It’s fine,” you reassured him. “I promise, I’m happy to help.”

“Thanks, I…” He trailed off, falling silent again.

You peeked your head out of the shower. “You good?” His head snapped over before he averted his eyes just as quickly, staring directly into the beaming lights. He immediately winced, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Uhh… yeah. Sure.”

You grabbed your towel, wrapping it around yourself before stepping out. “Well, I’m done. I’m gonna go throw clothes on, just tell me when it’s alright for me to come in.”

When you left the bathroom and shut the door behind you, Bucky took a sigh of relief before attempting to comprehend the events of the last few minutes. Just getting to hold you and provide some sort of comfort to you was getting to him. His heart rate was skyrocketing, and the fact that he’d seen you in nothing but a towel wasn’t helping the situation.

On the other side of the door, you were in a similar state. You were ever-so-slightly flustered as you threw on comfy clothes, stopping by a mirror to tousle your hair as best you could while it dripped water everywhere. One of the hottest men you’d ever seen had been so sweet and gentle after the whole mess outside. And he was in your damn shower.

You silently cheered to yourself as you grabbed a roll of gauze for the scrapes on your side. John Walker had been kind enough to injure you in an awkward spot you couldn’t quite reach, so you’d need help applying the treatment and bandage.

“Can I come in?” you called, effectively scaring the shit out of Bucky, who was trying to figure out the difference between a cleanser and a wash.

“Yeah!” he yelled back.

You slid back into the bathroom as the water turned off and he emerged with a towel wrapped around his waist.

‘Don’t stare, don’t stare, don’t stare,’ you pleaded to yourself, trying to avoid ogling one of your best friends like a total creep. You waved around the gauze and went to rest a hand on the vanity. “Can you help me-“ Just your luck, your hand missed the counter completely and almost sent you sprawling and further injuring yourself.

“Woah, you alright?”

You brushed your hair from your eyes, feeling your face heat up. “Yeah,” you laughed, mentally screaming as you caught sight of your beet-red face in the mirror. “Can you help me with the gauze and the antiseptic cream?”

Bucky obliged, helping you jump up on the counter before gently applying the lotion to your side and wrapping the gauze with precise motions.

“So…” you began, kicking your legs as they dangled. “What were you going to say earlier?” He fumbled the roll of bandages, face turning a similar shade as yours.

“I… I’m not really good with the whole, ‘talking about things’, doll. Figured the lack of progress with the Doc would’ve told you that much.”

You made a face at his negative self-talk. “Don’t put yourself down so much, Jamie. You made some progress with Dr. Raynor even if you don’t realize it.”

He snipped the end of the gauze.

“Fine. I… I really like you, (Y/N). And…” He sighed and grumbled under his breath. “You’re one of the only people where… I feel like… God, why am I so bad with words?”

He made nervous eye contact.

“Fuck it. Can I kiss you?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

When he gently pulled you in, you felt like every bad thought left your mind. All that existed was you, Bucky, and the unreasonably cold tile of your bathroom vanity. As his lips moved against yours, he gently rested a hand on your side, careful not to hurt the newly wrapped injury.

When you pulled away for air, you rested your forehead against his, breaths soft and eyes still closed.

“Holy shit,” he murmured, ghosting a hand along your back. You shivered, opening your eyes to meet his. “That was…”

“Perfect,” you finished. You smiled as he tugged you towards him gently once more, planting a second kiss before enveloping you in a hug.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for forever,” he said into your hair. You nodded.

“Me too. Ever since we dealt with the Accords.”

Reaching a hand up, you pulled his face towards yours, leaning in again. Goddamn, his lips were soft. Curse you and that lip scrub you’d given him a month back.

His hand found its way into your hair, running through it before landing on the small of your back. You shuddered as his other hand began to wander.

“God, Sam’s gonna have a field day,” he grumbled into your mouth. You chuckled, pulling away.

“So will Nat and Steve. Oh, plus Yelena.”

“Wait, were they trying to matchmake with you too?” You nodded.

“They’re insufferable. And yet, they always managed to get all of the details out of me.”

Your phone buzzed on the counter. Sam’s very cursed contact photo (him mid-flight, zoomed in on his face with extremely low picture quality) popped up on your screen.

“Speak of the devil,” Bucky grumbled.

You answered, lifting the phone to your ear. “Hey, Sam.”

“Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”

You frowned. “What?”

“I saw you on TV. They were out of hand, (Y/N). Are you gonna press charges against that guy?” Oh, yeah. You could technically press an assault charge.

You took a deep breath. “I’m alright. I won’t make a fuss about it. Probabaly’ll let it all just blow over.”

“Alright, good to hear you’re okay.” His tone instantly changed upon hearing that you were alright. “So… I saw Buck stood up for you,” he sang. The super-soldier’s eyes widened. You shushed him, a smirk growing on your face.

“Yeah, he did.” You almost snorted out a laugh at Wilson’s annoyed silence when you declined from elaborating.

“(Y/N). (L/N).”

“Ooh, you’re in trouble,” Bucky mouthed to you. You rolled your eyes playfully, swatting at him.

Sam’s voice burst from the phone. “If you two don’t get together by the next time I see you… I swear on my life, I will get Nat and Steve back in on this, and we will lock you in a high-security room until-“

“Yeah, yeah, Sam. Whatever. See you soon,” you laughed, hanging up. You took Bucky’s hands, smiling up at him. “It’s only 8:00, and the paparazzi’s chilled out…”

“Wanna get some shitty pizza before it rains and watch bad TV shows?”

“That sounds perfect, doll.”

———————————————————————

Who knew that feared assassin and American hero Bucky Barnes liked pineapple on pizza? Well, you did. The first time he’d told you all (much to Sam and Clint’s disgust), he’d passed it off as pineapple being a taste he wasn’t used to, seeing as most of the food from the Great Depression consisted of potatoes and even more potatoes.

As you walked down the streets of New York in your pajamas, with you carrying the pizza and him carrying the very pricy bottle of wine you’d bought as a consolation gift for Sam and his vocal chords after the outburst he’d had over the phone, easy conversation passed between you both.

“So why did you buy an expensive bottle if he can’t even tell the difference?” Bucky asked.

You shrugged. “Just because Wilson doesn’t know what good wine tastes like doesn’t mean I can’t educate him.” The Avengers Tower slowly approached as you turned a corner.

A police car blared past, lights flashing and causing you both to slow and wait for the car to pass.

“Force of habit,” you mumbled as you continued your trek.

“They trail me all the time,” he grumbled, gently ghosting a hand over your back as you crossed the bustling street. “Followed me to lunch once. I wasn’t even doing anything suspicious, just keeping Yori from fighting some punk.”

You nodded at the mention of the old man he’d befriended. Although you knew the man was a source of guilt, it was still nice knowing that he’d made a friend. “I’ll have to meet Yori sometime,” you said, offering him an opening.

He took it. “Well, I’d love to take you to lunch. Maybe… After we save the world from certain destruction again?”

You laughed as the doors to the tower swung open for you. “‘The world’ might be an overstatement. ‘The governments of the world’ is a bit more accurate. But yes. I’d like that a lot.”

You both made your way up the elevator, slipping into your room as you asked for FRIDAY to turn on the TV. You grabbed plates for the pizza, set them on the bed, and hopped in, curling up under your blankets.

“C’mon, hop in,” you encouraged, allowing Bucky to slide under the layers of fluff. As you began to eat, a cooking show droned on in the background.

Once you were both done and had put the leftovers away, you could feel the tiredness setting in. Your eyes were drooping and Bucky’s head had dipped multiple times. After a particularly dramatic drop he shook himself awake, reluctantly lifting the covers.

“Well, I… I-“

“You can sleep in here,” you said, holding out a hand as you let the drowsiness take over. He laid back down, unsure of what to do. With your curtains drawn and the TV off, your room was uncharacteristically dark.

“Can I hold you?” he asked softly. He sounded so unsure of himself, as if you could ever say no to him. You wordlessly scooted over, tucking yourself under his arm and resting your head in the crook of his neck. You could feel his body relax as your breathing slowed.

This was the calmest Bucky had been in a while. As you dozed off, he felt himself following, his heart rate slowing as the sounds outside of your window became nothing but ambient noise to the fatigue weighing down his brain.

“Goodnight, (Y/N),” he whispered, barely awake. The quiet, incoherent words you mumbled in return were enough to fully pull him asleep.

And for the first time in months, Bucky Barnes slept peacefully.

———————————————————————

The next few days were, quite frankly, some of the best you could remember. You and Bucky had the tower to yourselves, and with no immediate threat, spent the short break wandering around town. He took you up on the offer of lunch, albeit without his elderly friend, taking you to a restaurant that seemed to be one he frequented quite often.

While he’d been a great friend and teammate, you quickly realized he made an even better date. He somehow managed to sneak a bouquet of flowers in behind your back, presenting them with a nervous smile and an outstretched hand.

You’d grown even more comfortable around each other at a rapid pace, quickly falling into new habits. Good morning kisses, casual hand holding, and hugs that involved you getting lifted completely off the ground were among many others.

One day, you had both visited Peter at school, offering him a break from the nonstop scrutiny and attention by joining him on the roof with his friends Ned and MJ. While he seemed to recognize that something had changed between you and the blue-eyed assassin, he didn’t comment on it, instead ranting about his day and about the countless tabloids he’d found. None of them to his liking.

“They think I lay eggs!” he’d exclaimed, tossing the flimsy magazine into the air. Bucky caught it, flipping through to find the cover story.

“Huh. This is actually pretty interesting,” he’d said, causing you to swat his arm and Peter to groan in misery.

“Why are you here anyway, Mr. Barnes? Not that I don’t appreciate the moral support, but since when did you have extra time to stop by a high school?”

“(Y/N) made me come.” You’d deadpanned at him. “Alright, fine, I came with her by my own choice.” He had frowned at the teen. “You used to call me ‘Sergeant’.”

Peter sat up halfway. “Yeah, that’s when you were scary and looked like a hobo.”

“A hobo?” he’d parroted. You shook your head. “Mi-a plăcut părul tău lung, dragă [I liked your long hair, hon].”

“For what it’s worth,” Ned spoke up, “I think you’re still pretty scary.”

“She’s scarier,” MJ said, not looking up from her book. “Peter told me about the time you went crazy on Tony Stark and Steve Rogers.”

“I didn’t go crazy-“

“You definitely did, Ms. (L/N).”

A day after that, when you’d woken up in Bucky’s arms like you had the past several days, he had a request.

“Can you help me track Zemo? I need to call in a favor from the Dora Milaje. Plus, I don’t want them killing me for letting him go.”

A few satellite scans and a quinjet-ride later, you landed in Sokovia. You glanced down at the tracker on your wrist.

“It says he’s heading towards the memorial; the Dora’s only a little while out,” you mumbled, wrapping your jacket tighter around you. The European fall was setting in. You wondered how Wanda was handling it without electricity.

As the two of you came up on the giant statue of a family, you stopped. The Baron was indeed there. With a gentle squeeze of Bucky’s hand, you nodded, sending him forward to confront Zemo.

Although you were a few paces away, their voices carried around the peaceful area.

“I thought you’d be here sooner,” Zemo said. “Don’t worry. I’ve decided I’m not going to kill you.”

“Imagine my relief,” Bucky quipped, gun firmly in his hand. He clicked it, causing Zemo to look over.

“The girl has been radicalized beyond salvation. I warned Sam, but he didn’t listen to me. He’s as stubborn as Steve Rogers before him. But you… They literally programmed you to kill.”

Your eye twitched, but you stayed firmly in place. This wasn’t your fight.

“James, do what needs to be done. Karli has people everywhere, and there’s only one way to make sure she cannot continue her mission.”

“I appreciate the advice. But we’re gonna do it our own way.” He glanced over to you. Zemo nodded politely in your direction before chuckling softly.

“Yeah. I was afraid you would say that.”

The gun flashed in the sunlight and Bucky raised it to Zemo’s head. The Baron only nodded.

As Bucky pulled the trigger, the gun only let out a click. He lifted his other hand from his pocket, dumping the bullets onto the ground.

Three Dora Milaje guards appeared, surrounding Zemo.

“Ladies,” he greeted, before turning back to Bucky. “I took the liberty of crossing off my name in your book. I hold no grudges for what you thought you had to do.”

He nodded once more. “Goodbye, James. (Y/N).”

Okoye stuck behind as they led Zemo to the Wakandan ship. You approached, greeting her.

“We will take him to the Raft… Where he will live out his days. It would be prudent to make yourself scarce in Wakanda for the time being, White Wolf.”

He nodded. “Fair enough.” Before she left, he called out. “Hey! I may have another favor to ask of you.”

———————————————————————

As you sat in the passenger side of the rental car a few days later, feet up on the dash, you rested your head on Bucky’s arm. The short plane ride from New York City to Delacroix, Louisiana had proved to be brutal, the airport being in the middle of nowhere, with the only options for breakfast being a crowded Cracker Barrel and an equally busy McDonald’s. It was safe to say that you got breakfast at a gas station a while down the road.

You’d driven the first half of the way, the ex-Winter Soldier taking the wheel the second.

“Tired?” he asked. You nodded. “Well, better wake up a bit, doll. We’re almost there.”

You groaned softly. “If you’d just let me buy that Monster at the gas station-“

“I am not fueling your addiction,” he said decisively.

“Fine. So, do you wanna tell Sam or keep it from him?” you asked, pulling down the mirror to rub away the tiredness from your eyes.

“Hmm. It would be fun to get him back for all of the nagging he did. But… I kinda wanna bother him by doing stuff like-“ He leaned over, pecking your lips. “-that.”

You laughed as your stomach fluttered. “You’re a little shit.”

“You like it,” he countered, pulling up to the dock. He parked the car a ways away, sneaking past people and weaving between cars. You followed, laughing under your breath as he tugged you along and ducked under boxes.

“How do we get it off the truck?” You heard Sam ask, Bucky finally letting go of your hand to effortlessly lift a massive box off of a truck. You had to fan yourself, even in the mid-fall chill.

“You’re welcome,” he said, before sliding the silver Wakandan case onto the truck. “Just dropping this off. You can sign for it and I’ll go. I called in a favor from the Wakandans.”

A pipe hissing on the boat behind him caught your attention. A woman ran up.

“Sam!” she yelled, stopping in her tracks when she saw you and Bucky. You stepped out from behind the truck and Sam raced over to the pipe.

“Hi,” you chirped, waving as you ran past to help. Sam tried to tighten the bolt to no avail before Bucky intervened.

“Hold on. Hold on. You gotta go up,” he chastised, sealing the bolt. And he was a mechanic, you screamed to yourself after watching him use one tool. Maybe you were just a little bit smitten.

“Why didn’t you use the metal arm?” Sam asked.

“Well… I don’t always think of it immediately. I’m right-handed.” He eyed the worn-down boat. “So, this is the boat, huh?”

“This is it.”

“It’s nice,” you offered. “Want any help?”

———————————————————————

This boat was no joke. Somewhere along the line, you shed the sweatshirt you wore in favor of a tank top you’d stuffed in the car, tying your hair back before helping wherever you could.

There were boards to be sanded, paint to be retouched, and dozens of mechanisms below deck to be fixed. Knowing your affinity for tech, you took the last job.

You fiddled with wires after you scanned the engine, allowing FRIDAY to give suggestions. Every now and then, Sam would try the engine, only for it to stall.

At one point, you came up for a break, only to see Bucky flipping a tool, stabbing air experimentally. You walked over, picking up one that had been discarded on the floor.

“This one would be much better for stabbing,” you commented, pointing at the sharp edge.

“Stop doing assassin shit and try the engine again,” Sam yelled. You obliged, racing back over.

A few hours later, the sun was setting and the boys were dumping buckets of water from the boat.

“Think Karli’s gonna throw in the towel?” Bucky asked.

Sam shook his head. “I think she’s gonna double down.”

“Any idea how to stop her?”

“I got Joaquin working on something.”

“Oh, that kid?” you asked from below deck, fiddling with the engine. Sam jumped at your interruption.

“Yeah, the kid.”

“Well, Zemo says there’s only one way,” the super-soldier continued. You came up from the short ladder, wiping your brow and sighing in relief when the fresh air hit your skin. Sam and Bucky both grabbed beers, offering you one that you declined, instead opting to sit on the ground as you all took a break.

“Well…” Bucky said, sipping the drink. “Gotta catch our flight tomorrow. Get a hotel room for the night. Crash, you know?” You groaned, anticipating the suspicious hotel breakfast.

Sam chuckled. “You’re just gonna set me up like that, huh?”

“We don’t wanna make it weird for your family,” you said.

“Just stay here,” he insisted. “The people in this town are the most welcoming people in the world. They don’t care if you wear small t-shirts or if you have six toes or if your mom’s your aunt.” You silently deduced how that would work, eyes slowly narrowing as you traced the hypothetical genealogy. “Don’t think about it too much,” he said.

“Okay, I get it,” Bucky said. “I mean, you know, the people are nice.”

“Are you sure? We’d hate to bother you,” you said, giving him an out. He nodded, standing and heading to his car.

“Follow me, okay? The house isn’t far from here.” You saluted him, jumping back into the passenger seat. You rubbed your shoulders, sore from the constant work.

Bucky followed Sam dutifully, the setting sun casting a rosy haze across the trees and filtering into the car. Silently, he reached over, taking your hand. You smiled as Sam pulled up in front of a house where two boys played outside. His nephews.

You hopped out of the car and went to the back, popping the trunk and grabbing your duffel bag. You waved to the kids as Sam led you both inside, where Sarah was organizing the kitchen. The sun had fully set, the light slowly dimming as the temperature dropped steadily.

It took a lot of convincing for either of the Wilson siblings to allow you and Bucky to sleep on the couch, but you both assured them that you’d slept in far worse places. Hell, even when the super-soldier had his own apartment, he still would sleep on the hardwood floor. Nonetheless, Sarah insisted on putting a soft sheet over the couch.

Sam had thrown you a look when you and Bucky decided to share the couch, with you only offering a shrug. He’d figure it out.

The boys, AJ and Cass, went to bed not long after, Sarah following soon after for an early morning. You three stayed up for a bit longer discussing some of your suspicions about Karli before Sam called it a night too.

You sighed, stretching your arms. Barnes flopped unceremoniously onto the couch, laying flat and lifting the blanket for you. You padded around the dim room, careful not to bump into anything in the unfamiliar surroundings.

“How is this gonna work?” you hissed quietly, gesturing to the couch that was not meant for two people to sleep on, especially not when one of them was a super-soldier.

“Come here,” he whispered back. “It’s gonna work like this.” You laid down on top of him, sighing as he tugged the blanket up. His arm circled your waist to keep you from sliding off the couch. “That alright?”

“Yeah.” You relaxed further, practically melting. “It’s perfect.”

———————————————————————

You were woken by whooshing noises. Curling further into the warmth you were encased in, the chest you were laying on jumped slightly. Your eyes opened to meet Bucky’s, confused as to where the sounds were coming from.

Looking over, you saw the two boys messing with the shield and play-fighting.

“Hey,” Bucky greeted, waving. They gasped, hurriedly putting the shield back before racing off. You laughed, watching them disappear around a corner.

“I think you intimidated them,” you chuckled. He turned back to you, pulling you in for a soft kiss.

“Good morning to you, too,” he mumbled, voice quiet from the early hour. You fiddled with his dog tags, gently turning them over to memorize every detail. He stayed silent for a moment, listening for footsteps. “Sam’s probably already at the boat. Wanna head out?”

———————————————————————

Just as Bucky predicted, Sam was working on the boat when you arrived, absorbed in the engine. You both descended, the single light casting a yellow hue over the mechanism. The ex-Soldier began to give advice as the Falcon gave instructions, with you making occasional comments.

Not long after, you all managed to pull the water pump up, getting a better look at it in the sunlight.

Sam eyed the disassembled tech. “Okay, so-”

“Excuse me. No!”

Sam ignored his sister. “There should be a three-sixteenths bolt that goes in that big gear.”

“Nope,” Bucky said without checking it. You waved as Sarah approached. She smiled at you before glaring at Sam.

“Uh-uh. No. No.”

“You didn’t even look,” Sam protested.

“I didn’t have to.”

“I told you specifically that the water pump was not the problem, and yet, here you are,” she said, raising a brow.

“Yeah, Samuel,” you added.

“In our defense,” he said, throwing a glare at you, “We were supposed to be done long before you woke up.”

“I don’t come up to the sky and tell you how to barrel roll, so don’t come down here and mess around with things you don’t understand.”

“Wow. Wow,” Sam mumbled.

Sarah wasn’t having it. “Bye. Off,” she said, shooing you all away. “Thank you. Appreciate you. I love you, bro.”

“She’s a very mean person,” Sam grumbled as you three walked away.

“It’s tough love,” Bucky corrected, patting his back.

“No. If you two did what I told you to do, we would have been done before any of this took place.”

They bickered back and forth, walking along as you listened to Sam ramble. Bucky took your hand, neither of you even thinking twice about the action until Sam’s eyes widened.

“What- what is that?” he questioned. You and Bucky exchanged a glance.

“What is what?” you asked, still holding hands.

“That!”

Barnes smirked. “What? I thought you said that if we weren’t together by the next time you saw us, you’d, ‘lock us in a high-security room together’.”

Sam gaped. “Are you shitting me? I feel like this is some elaborate prank-”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you sighed, grabbing Bucky’s shirt and tugging him down to kiss him, effectively proving your point and causing Sam to grab for his phone. He snapped a picture that was blurry at best, sending it to a groupchat labeled, “(Y/N) x Barnes Matchmaking Squad” that consisted of him, Nat, Steve, and as of recently, Yelena, Peter, and Shuri.

“You two are idiots,” he groaned as you all continued to make your way back to the house. The walk was peaceful, just long enough to give you a break before you were back to discussing the mission. Starting with teaching Sam how to throw the shield.

He had the strength, you admitted to yourself as he embedded it in a tree. But there was more to it. He was afraid of it, ducking every time it bounced back to him and giving it an almost excessive amount of cushion when he caught it.

“Feels weird,” he said. “Picking it up again.” He tossed it, watching as it ricocheted towards Bucky, who caught it with little effort. “The legacy of that shield is… complicated, to say the least.”

Bucky nodded. “When Steve told me he was planning on retiring it to you, I don’t think either of us really understood what it felt like for a Black man to be handed the shield. How could we? I owe you an apology.” You grinned. This was going far better than the session with Dr. Raynor. He handed off the shield. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.”

“Whatever happened with Walker, it wasn’t your fault,” he continued. “I get it. It’s just… now that Steve’s off the grid for a while… that shield’s the closest thing I’ve got left to a family, so when you retired it, it made me feel like I had nothing left. Made me question everything. You, Steve, me.”

You rested a hand on his shoulder. “Well, it’s good that you’re wrong then. You’ve got family. They’re just a bit fucked up right now.”

“A little?” Sam asked.

“You know I’ve got his, uh… I’ve got his book,” Bucky said, lifting the small notebook from his pocket. “And, uh… I just figured if it worked for him, then it’d work for me.” He took a shaky breath.

“I understand, man,” Sam nodded. “But you and Steve aren’t the same. And this might be a surprise, but it doesn’t matter what Steve thinks. Don’t get me wrong, he’s great, but…”

“You shouldn’t define yourself by what people think of you,” you finished. Sam threw the shield, catching it with more assuredness.

“You gotta stop looking to other people to tell you who you are.” He threw it again, allowing Bucky to catch it. “Let me ask you. You still having those nightmares?”

“I was,” he admitted. “It meant I remembered. It meant a part of me was still there. Which meant a part of the Winter Soldier’s still in me.” He threw the shield, continuing their therapeutic game of catch. “But now…” he glanced at you. “I haven’t had any in over a week.”

Sam smiled, a bold contrast to his frustrated matchmaking attempts. “You up for a little tough love?” he asked. “You wanna climb out of that hell you’re in, do the work. For the people you care about, if you won’t do it for yourself.”

“I’ve been making amends,” Bucky began.

“Nah. You weren’t amending, you were avenging. You were stopping all the wrongdoers you enabled as the Winter Soldier, because you thought it would bring you closure. You go to these people and say ‘sorry,’ because you think it’ll make you feel better, right? But you gotta make them feel better. You gotta go to them, and be of service. I’m sure there’s at least one person in that book who needs closure about something, and you’re the only person who can give it to ‘em.”

The Sergeant shook his head. “Probably a dozen.”

“That’s cool. Start with one.”

“Good talk,” Bucky admitted. You chuckled, allowing them to have an awkward bro-hug before you hugged Sam goodbye.

“You know Karli won’t quit,” he warned both of you.

“Call us when you have a lead, we’ll be there,” you promised.

Bucky picked up your bags. “Not necessarily as a team,” he added. “We’re not that good.”

“Definitely not,” Sam agreed.

“We’re professionals.”

“Definitely.”

“And, uh, we’re partners.”

“Co-workers.”

“But we’re also a couple of guys with a mutual friend.”

“Friend’s out of the equation.”

“So we’re a couple of guys with a different mutual friend.” Bucky pointed at you.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re a couple of idiots, sure.” They shrugged.

“I can live with that.”

Sam thanked the both of you, giving you one last smile before you parted ways. You headed to the car, climbing into the driver’s side as Bucky threw the bags in the back.

“You good? Sam doesn’t pull punches when it comes to therapizing people,” you said, starting the car and pulling away from Sarah’s house. He nodded, thinking about his advice.

“Got some work to do.”

bonus meme!

bucky and reader to each other:

[isaac-lahey-imagines]

Imagine #70 | Request #31 (Part 3/3 of Isaac Lahey x Alpha!Reader)

Catch up here: Part 1, Part 2 (might need to rewrite these two though)

Can I just say that you guys who stuck with this blog (and the Wattpad imagines) are the best? And to think I haven't posted in years and we've hit 6k+ followers when I came back?! I don't even know how you people are still here and loving the pieces I put out when I'm here cringing over the old works back in 2015!

Warnings: The usual when it comes to the Teen Wolf series, specifically the Dread Doctors' season, mentions of blood, bones breaking, drugs, needles, a few curse words, idk if this is angst? whump?

Word Count: 6k+ (it's probably the longest I've written omg)

Not much of a flashback or backstory (I'm out of words, I can't squeeze anymore juices out of my brain, my bad). As usual, this is note beta-ed and sorry for any mistakes! English isn't my first language :(

~

“No more, please,” weak cries fell on deaf ears as you were dragged down from one hall to another, the smell of disinfectant and rust overpowering your already sensitive nose and magnifying the headache that was present from when you took a beating earlier.

The sound of bare flesh skidding on the polished floor bounced off the walls as you tried to pull away and run from your captors, you did not care of the stinging sensation that radiated from the pads of your feet - the open wounds left untreated by the people who kept you in hopes that whatever was inside of you can take care of it on its own.

You were repulsed at the thought of them still being considered as people after what they have put you through - they were monsters.

“Just a little more, my dear.” One of the figures that held your arm sneered, the grip on your bicep tightening making you clench your jaw. You internally scoffed at this knowing well that it won’t be ‘just a little more’ with how long and how frequent it happened and will happen.

“She should be able to go through another round.” A voice, deeper than the feminine one from earlier, spoke up as you entered through the heavy double doors of a room - an operating theater you guessed from the setup. “Prep her.”

“Her vitals are stronger now.” The third person declared, their fingers flipping through the pages of the clipboard in their hands before glancing towards the monitor to one side of the room - an image of your anatomy on display with different colors corresponding to each system in your body.

“The less you struggle the faster this will be.” One of the doctors, the Geneticist, who dragged you to this hell hole hummed as she was met with resistance on your end while she strapped you down on the cold metal table, the leather rubbing your already raw skin.

Her patience with you was at a limit, she was close to just ending it - ending you. But they have already achieved so much with their craft that it would be such a waste of time and resource to start from square one.

“Remember,” The Pathologist warned as he walked closer to you once you were settled down. “The louder you scream, the more blood we take from you.”

The tears that fell from your eyes to the sides of your face tickled your ears at the threat, small whimpers coming from you were ignored.

“Might I remind you that the btch wakes up?” The Geneticist interrupted, irritation in her voice as she steadied your shaking right hand before inserting an IV cannula in a vein at the back of your hand and taping it in place. Looking up to her left, she reached for the device below one of the two bags that hung on the pole and unclamped its tube letting the mix of anxiolytic, hypnotic, and anticonvulsant start to flow down to you. She then turned her attention to the other bag beside it, a mix of amnestic, and myorelaxant drugs, and did the same - a near-perfect cocktail mix they specifically designed for you.

She reminded the other doctors that no matter how much benzos, relaxants, or other drug concoctions they pump in your veins, you will wake up in between operations screaming your head off while attempting to break free of the hold you are currently in. “No matter how much sedatives we put in her, her wolf is too strong-”

“It’s an animal-” The Surgeon spoke up.

“She’s an alpha, a pure one-” She argued again, almost growling at the hard-headedness of her co-doctors before she was cut off by the same person.

“An animal.” He spoke in finality. “We are humans - gods even! We are at the very top of the damned food chain.”

The room suddenly fell silent, your whimpers, the beeping of a monitor, and the hum of the machines somewhere in the room were the only things that could be heard as you started to feel the effects of the fluids injected into you.

The tension you felt from earlier began to leave your body just as your vision started getting cloudy, your eyelids feeling heavier by the minute. You didn’t notice the Pathologist holding up a syringe to the light, flicking the bubbles away with his middle finger and thumb a few times before the taste of rubber invaded your mouth with such force that hurt your lips, gums, and teeth.

The Surgeon that was above you, blocking the light for a few moments, had shoved the mouth guard in before he continued securing your head in the metal gear positioned above you. Your neck followed suit with a hard metal clamp attached to the table effectively locking you in place and soon, your whole body was completely immobilized with a loud click from the double lock clamps.

The tears continued to flow down the sides of your face as you fought the sleepiness, praying for this to just end. The dread of what is to come overwhelming you and making your body shake as much as the drugs and table’s hold on you would allow.

“I’m surprised the smart one hasn’t figured it out yet.” They exchanged small talk over your muffled screams as soon as you felt the sharp sting of a needle puncturing your skin and into your cervical spine; expelling whatever it was they created into your system for the nth time. Your ears hurt from the ringing in your head while your throat burned as the pain from the syringe radiated all over your body.

“I’m surprised her mate hasn’t.” The Geneticist replied with emphasis.

“My friends, let us not be complacent.” Their leader ended their conversation as he now concentrated on looking at the x-ray on the monitor showing the movement of the serum as it spread in you.

“We continue our routine - clean her up, wipe her to an extent and then return her. ” He added as he pushed more of the liquid in you with a press of a button by your head.

“Marcel, they will know, soon enough.” She pointed out. “She will start to have withdrawals if-”

“We won’t let that happen.”

~

Sneakers skidding on the floor as everyone seemed to scramble out of the way towards the door, eyes wide with fear looking at the figure in front of them.

“Y/N?”

“Alpha?”

Isaac watched as the massive wolf in front of them let out a deep growl with its teeth bared at the people that called her attention, the fur on her back and chest standing up making her look even bigger than she already is.

“Y/N,” Isaac knew that Deaton was the best person to handle all kinds of supernatural cases, hence, the title of Emissary to their pack. “It’s Deaton.”

Letting out another growl as you licked your lips, your tail flicked lowly behind you as your eyes darted to each person present in the room before landing back to one in particular who was too close for comfort.

“Y/N, hey,” His voice sounded softer, it almost made you feel a sense of comfort until his hand reached out to you and made you snap back and almost bite it off.

This instinctively made Scott pull Isaac back by his shirt to a safe distance, struggling a bit in his grasp as the beta did not want to be moved further away from you despite the situation.

“Isaac, move back,” Deaton warned when he noticed that the curly-haired werewolf was not backing down, a hand gesturing for him to move away from you. “She’s scared.”

“No, Deaton, she heard me. She’s there - Y/N,” Isaac argued before turning his attention back to you again, blue eyes already glassy as tears filled the rim of his eyes. “She heard me.”

Isaac tried to hold on to the hope that you were present underneath the wolf because he was sure he saw that familiar glimmer that was distinctly you.

Just as he attempted to reach out to you again with a whisper of your name on his lips, the same frequency you heard before rang in your ears making you seize up and drop to the ground.

“Agh! What is that?” Liam winced as his hands reached up to his head to cover his ears, eyes scrunching shut as he tried to will away the incessant ringing.

“What’s what?” Mason asked with confusion etched on his face as he looked at his friend then to Stiles and the others, the werewolves in the room in particular, doing the same.

Isaac did not care for the ringing he heard, witnessing you looking like you were being kicked or beaten as you struggled to stand up, the sound of pained screams, whines, and whimpers coming out of you pulled at his heart making him drop to his knees beside you.

His hands hovered over your form trying to figure out what to do while he avoided getting scratched by the large clawed paws that writhed with your body, Scott and Thor doing the same and looking over you trying to see where exactly were you hurting.

“Deaton,” Isaac called as he carefully placed his hand on your shoulder before hissing - you were burning up and the black color that coursed through his veins upon touching you wreaked of disease. “Deaton what do we do?!”

“What is that?” Thor asked in bewilderment as he saw what was happening with Isaac’s arms.

“Hold her still as much as you can,” The vet’s voice was calm despite the mess, going to one of the counters in the room and asking Stiles and Mason for assistance as he tried to collect what sounded like glass vials from the way it clinked in their hold.

Isaac heard Thor mutter an apology to his alpha as he tried to hold your hind legs down as much as he can, Scott doing the same by your torso and Isaac by your neck.

“Y/N,” Isaac continued to call for you as he tried to hold your front legs down. “It’s Isaac, baby - it’s me.”

“Hurry!” Scott called to Deaton as his eyes scrunched and a sheen of sweat already present on their foreheads, the ringing still present in their ears making it difficult for them to concentrate.

Just as Deaton returned and knelt by your side, carrying a stainless steel tray that contained what looked like multiple large syringes in it, the static ringing noise started to get louder making the supernatural beings in the room let out a pained groan and lose their grip on you.

It grew too much too quickly to bear, causing the lights and windows above your heads to shatter and engulf the room in darkness. As everyone ducked for cover, Isaac stayed by your side and tried to shield you from the onslaught of sharp glass descending on you.

It took a few moments before the ringing stopped and the feel of cold air entered the room, snapping them back to their senses as their eyes opened at the smell of blood it carried with it.

Isaac immediately sat up as he felt the cold tiled floor and not your warm body underneath him.

“Y/N,” was all he said before he sprinted out of the room, the others following behind him.

“How did she get out?” He heard Stiles behind him once they reached the outside of the clinic, Thor already looking around the perimeter of the establishment for any signs of you.

Isaac’s brain was running a hundred miles at what he saw and what had just happened inside, his lips quivering as he ran his hands through his hair and pulling at the roots in frustration. He sniffled as he tried to stop the tears from running down his cheeks with the heels of his hands. Exhaling, he closed his eyes and tried to even out his breathing before turning to Scott.

“She’s not gone,” his alpha spoke, already reassuring him. “We’re going to find her.”

Just before Isaac could reply and shoot down the optimism his alpha had, a car screeched to a halt in front of them.

“Where is she?!” Lydia asked as she got out of the driver’s side, a frantic look in her bloodshot eyes.

“Hey, hey, what happened?” Stiles was immediately by her side, cupping her face in his hands. But Lydia only moved out of the way and turned to Isaac and asked again.

“We don’t know where she is. She disappeared right before Deaton -” Lydia was close to tears again as she groaned in frustration.

“They can’t get her back.” She said, sounding more of a beg as her voice shook a little.

Everyone in front of her stopped what they were doing and looked at the Banshee.

“Who’s they? And where do you think Y/N is?” Stiles asked before a few seconds later, realization hit him.

~

It was on the way to Eichen House that Lydia explained everything she saw that made her break all the traffic laws implemented in Beacon Hills just to rush to the vet clinic. Isaac could not shake the feeling that Lydia, a banshee – a herald of death, had visions of you in his arms already in eternal slumber. His wolf broke more than a little as she spoke more of what she saw, only a few words registering to him – Y/N, doctors, experiment, and torture.

Everything was a flash for Isaac now, he did not even realize that they were now in a tunnel under the mental facility planning on who was going where.

But once their strategy was laid out, Isaac wasted no time in trying to locate even the faintest of your scent in the damp and moldy tunnel he was walking through. He heard Stiles and Lydia speaking on the phone in his pocket that they'd found an office that had files strewn everywhere – files that specifically contained information about you and what they have done with you so far.

“Any luck finding her?” Lydia asked as Isaac heard papers being flipped on the other end of the line.

“Nope, not yet,” Liam replied.

“No, she’s not here.” Thor was next then Scott, all claiming to find only empty rooms and dungeons.

“Isaac?” Lydia asked after not hearing from him.

“None,” he answered, sounding defeated as he rounded another corner with you nowhere in sight.

Isaac could hear collective sighs as they continued their searches, his ears already drowning out what Lydia and Stiles were doing - occasionally spitting out questions of why’s as they continued to browse through what they found in the files.

His breathing became labored as his mind started to play tricks on him the further we walked down the tunnel, the source of light slowly fading the deeper he went.

Just as he was about to turn another corner, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He felt as though soft fingertips touched him, making his skin crawl as he turned around quickly only to find an empty space. But as he directed his attention to the other corner of the room, the colors on his face drained.

Amidst the mess of metal chains and torn blankets, Isaac watched closely as the figure on the floor took a raspy breath, eyes moving behind closed lids, lips mumbling incoherent words.

“Y/N?” Isaac slowly approached, the other members of the pack on the other line calling for his attention and asking if they heard him call your name.

At the sound of your name being called, your body went rigid. Your eyes flew open, widening as you saw a shadowy figure in front of you moving closer.

“Please, no more.” Your voice cracked from the overuse as you begged, the sound of heavy metal clinking together echoed in the empty room as you backed away slowly. “I’m sorry! I won’t do it again, please!”

Your frame quivered as you continued to plead, sweat mixed with blood trickled down your body as you attempted to make yourself smaller against the corner of the cell; failing from the sudden pain on the back of your neck that restricted you to move any further away from where you were.

“Y/N, it’s Isaac. I’m not going to hurt you.” Isaac ignored the voices over the phone calling for him, asking if he really found you. “You’re safe now, they’re not going to hurt you.”

Isaac almost expected for you to cower further away from him, but you didn’t – instead, you relaxed a little as his hand landed on the small of your back and the other on your shoulder effectively pulling you into an embrace.

As Isaac felt you release a breath before melting against his chest, his scent effectively calmed you down as your wolf recognized her other half. You both stayed like that for a while before he went back to examining you and what was behind you, more so what was attached to you.

Now, more diligent in his movements, his hands hovered over what seemed to be a tube attached to the back of your neck. He shifted in his kneeling position, careful not to jostle you, before taking his phone from his pocket.

“Something’s attached to her, I need to get it off-.” He informed more to Stiles and Lydia than to others present on the call.

“Don’t!” Lydia exclaimed, panicked at what Isaac was planning. “Not yet.”

“But she’s already hurting!” Isaac’s hands returned to your shoulder and back, holding you closer - as close as the tube permitted.

“That’s connected to her spine, Isaac,” Stiles added, warning him of what might happen. “If you remove it you might do some serious damage here.”

His attention turned back to you when he heard you whimper his name.

You were testing to see if Isaac was really there with you or if you were merely hallucinating again, not sure anymore of what was real after everything that happened to you for the past few years.

“Isaac?”

“Hi,” he smiled down when he pulled away from you a little, his voice shaking as he cupped your face in his hands. “I’m here.”

Your eyes focused on his face, blinking a few times before-

“No.”

That, he did not expect.

“No, no, no.” You mumbled repeatedly making Isaac more confused- were you not happy or relieved to see him with you?

“You shouldn’t be here.” As you came to your senses, you moved out of his grasp and pushed him away at the same time with the little strength you have left.

“Y/N, we came here for you. What are you talking about?” Isaac was hurt, you can see it in his face the way his brows furrowed and eyes already releasing a few tears down his cheeks.

Before you could answer back, the same ringing sounded again.

“Isaac, you have to go, please.” You cried, your own tears flowing down your cheek as you tried to pry his hands that held on to your wrists away, wanting to get out of his hold on you all the while fighting the heavy ache in your body to turn against your own will.

“Isaac, you have to get out of there!” You can hear Stiles over the phone, can hear Scott and the others running to where your werewolf was located.

“I’m not leaving her,” Isaac growled at them but his eyes stayed on you.

“You have to, plea-”

“Y/N!”

A blood-curdling scream left your lips as your body started to tremble on the floor, your bones were visibly breaking and morphing under your skin against your will yet again. The jagged edges of the broken bones breaking through skin and the movement causing purple and blue patches to decorate your flesh, all the while the liquid inside the tube that was still attached to you bubbled angrily.

“Isaac!”

Turning to the person who called his name, he suddenly felt himself being tugged down to the floor as the sound of electricity zipping past them blasted onto the steel bars of a small window on the wall overcame your pained screams.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” the static voice called.

“It’s the Dread Doctors.” Stiles’ voice over the phone can be heard, more papers can be heard being flipped and thrown somewhere. “They’re the ones doing this to Y/N.”

“I need to get it off of her!” Isaac spoke to the phone as he watched Thor lunge at one of the doctors in front of them, his clawed hand not holding back any hits he let out. Scott was next when another appeared much closer to where you and Isaac were.

Once your cries quieted down and your body settled down to small shakes - appeased from the onslaught of transforming against your will, Isaac’s hands hovered over the tube.

“You have to go before they hurt you.” It was barely a whisper when the words came out of your mouth, your body was getting too tired to fight it anymore.

“No, I’m not leaving without you, you know that.” Isaac spoke it with a voice that left no room for arguments as he held the tube in his hand and attempted to pull.

Isaac held back a sob as the screams you let out shattered through the noise of the grunts and punches being thrown. But before he could successfully pull it out, a force had hit him and sent him across the room hitting a wall with a loud thud.

“Near-perfect.” Another doctor, the same one who threw Isaac off of you, had appeared next to you with a device in his hand that, from the looks of it, controlled the tube that was pumping the liquid into you.

“Stop, please!” Your hands flew to the contraption attached to you just as Isaac charged at the doctor, sending them both to the ground.

Blinking away the heaviness of your eyelids, you tried to move from your position on the floor only to fall back down flat on your stomach. The wolf in you whined in panic, barking almost as she nudged you with her head to stand up - that you still had strength in you and she was there to anchor you herself.

“Give her back to me,” You can hear Isaac from across the room, the sight of him swiftly landing blow after blow at the doctor caught you off guard. The blood that ran down his temple to his eyes only added a level of intensity to his yellow glowing gaze as he gave a growl that had an unnerving timbre to it. “Now.”

On the other end of the room, you watch Scott claw at the doctor he was against before the mask fell off and revealed a face that was mottled, wrinkled, and scarred. If the true alpha was disgusted, he did not show it as he put his arms up to block the hit the doctor threw his way.

At the sound of a device dropping to the cemented floor, you felt the vibration of the tube behind you stop - the bubbles silencing as it halted its actions. This immediately cleared your head and relieved you of the pain, the fuzzy veil finally lifting as you took another deep breath and attempted to sit upright again.

Successfully sitting up with a few labored breaths accompanied by a wince, you lifted your aching arms and took hold of the tube attached behind you - the stinging feel of the needle made itself known as the small movement you made just from holding it jostled a little.

Taking a couple of ragged breaths again, trying to gather the courage and strength to pull the thing behind you when the air was suddenly knocked out of your lungs. The sensation of a sharp jab radiated from your side, the groan you let out echoed to the other end of the room making your eyes dart to where Isaac was.

“No,” you let out a gasp at the sight of your mate wide-eyed as he stared up at the doctor in front of him - the pain you felt on your side mirroring where the Surgeon’s swordcane embedded on Isaac’s side and giving it a twist for good measure. “Isaac!”

Your wolf’s painful yips turned to a low dangerous growl.

Feeling the familiar throb in your gums as your canines grew longer, you heard a banshee’s piercing scream all the way from the other wing of the Eichen house while a true alpha’s growl filled the place you were in.

“No more,” You say through clenched teeth, Thor’s knees buckling at the command in his alpha’s voice, Scott and the doctors they were up against stood in awe at the willpower you displayed.

“Perfect,” one of them said under their breath, the final push for perfection.

Finally standing tall, the tube attached to your neck earlier now clutched in your hand, you did not waste time as you took down each person who did you wrong.

Going for the closest antagonist in your life, Thor immediately scrambled out of your way as your claws wrapped around the Geneticists neck. You let your body move past her without letting go of your grip on her before using the momentum to lift the doctor up, the weight and force effectively disconnecting her head from the rest of her body before hurdling her to the Pathologist who was clambering away from Scott and the fight.

Everything was a blur to the other occupants of the room as you zipped past them and took down each one before you finally lunged at the Surgeon who finally released his grip on both his cane and on Isaac.

“My child-” he managed to say as your grip on his neck tightened, his feet barely touching the ground - your eyes glowing a dangerous color as you stared up at him.

You can finally see through the mask, raw pink flesh with stitches decorating it was what the steel mask protected. His mouth opened to say something but only a gurgled gasp came out as your other hand embedded itself in his chest and pierced through skin and muscle. You felt your wolf puffing up with pride and anger - you were their greatest creation and downfall.

Silence enveloped the room as the lead doctor took his last breath before you haphazardly threw him to the ground.

With his nose scrunched and eyebrows furrowed, Isaac pulled the swordcane out of him. His jaw clenching before he let out a pained groan at the feel of the weapon sliding out before leaning heavily against the brick wall while clutching his side.

Your attention was immediately drawn to your other half, managing to wipe off some of the blood on your hand before tending to him.

“Hey,” Isaac greeted as he tried to not lean all his weight to you as you wrapped your arms around his waist, careful not to touch the stab wound on his side. You felt tears playing at the edge of your lashes as you buried your face against his chest, the scent signifying home.

“Can’t really ask you if you’re okay,” You managed to say once you pulled away and looked up at him.

“You’re one to talk,” Isaac replied with a chuckle, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

You smiled, wiping the stray tear that ran down your cheek with the back of your hand as Isaac’s lips returned to your forehead for another kiss.

“Y/N, look-”

“No!”

A loud bang and the pain that came with it suddenly broke the bubble of peace you were in.

Clutching you to his chest, you saw the same confused expression that reflected on Isaac’s eyes before they darted from you to where the smell of gunpowder was coming from.

The Pathologist’s hand shook as he held the gun up, a crazed look in his eyes as he attempted to stand up from being buried under his colleague's lifeless body. He muttered incoherent words as he aimed the gun at you again.

But before he can pull the trigger, another loud thud took you all by surprise as you witnessed the man fall down flat on his face.

“Damn.” Lydia was behind him with a bloodied metal bat clutched in her hands - Stiles’ hands were up in the air, his eyes were wide as if he couldn’t believe his girl just did that.

“Well mark me down as scared and horny,” Stiles muttered under his breath, his brain replaying the moment Lydia all but took off with his metal bat and ran down the hall as fast as her heels allowed her to where they were now.

~

“Thank you, Thor.” You hugged the larger-built werewolf, his arms wrapping around you tightly but still being mindful of your current state. “But I don’t think I’m fit to be your alpha - to be the pack’s alpha anymore.”

“I will never understand how you and the others accepted me after what had happened.” Your feet dangled as you sat on a bricked fence outside of the Eichen house, the jacket from Isaac wrapped around you securely to act as a buffer against the coolness of the night.

You can hear Thor’s wolf whine at your words, his face already reflecting the sadness you both felt at what you were doing as he leaned against the fence you were sitting on.

“Alpha, please don’t discredit yourself.”

You looked up at him, not really believing his words with how much damage you’ve done to the pack - to your family.

“You are more than worthy - especially at your age.” He added, pointing out that most of the alphas out there were a hundred years older than you. “You are strong.”

“Thank you, again - for everything,” your lips quivered as you gave your best smile before glancing up to try and prevent the tears from spilling down your cheeks. The thought of leaving your pack broke your heart, they were family. But you needed to have someone better to lead and handle pack-related things -- you needed to recover.

A comfortable silence settled around the two of you before you heard Stiles and Isaac walking towards you.

“Jeep’s good to go, big guy.” Stiles said - more to Thor than you - with a tilt of his head to gesture to where they were parked as Isaac helped you to your feet and walked you towards Lydia’s car.

“You okay?” Isaac asked softly as you both settled in the back seat.

His eyes double-checked the graze on your shoulder from the bullet that hit you, his arms never leaving your side as he let you lean on him - exhaustion already catching up to you with the way your body sagged against his.

No, not really. You wanted to say as he only tugged you closer to him, the drive to Deaton being quieter save for the soft tunes the radio played.

“I will be.”

~~~

Isaac didn’t know what exactly woke him up.

Staring back at the ceiling, his ears strained to hear bed sheets rustling beside him. With the little light that passed through the curtains of the room you shared, he ran his hands down his face before turning to his bedside.

His eyes squinted when his phone awoke and flashed the time, 3:01AM it read - the phone’s screen showed a picture of the two of you together during a weekend picnic Lydia had arranged a few weeks ago. You had your eyes closed and lips smiling - a genuine smile after so long - against his neck as he had his arms wrapped around you tightly while he made a face to the camera.

Isaac stared at his phone’s lock screen a few moments longer before movement on his side and the feel of cold skin touching his leg took him out of his reverie.

Putting his phone back on the nightstand, he curled back down the covers and turned to face you. For someone who’s a warm-blooded supernatural creature themself, you sure have cold feet.

Isaac cupped your face before tucking a stray hair behind your ear, you were lying on your stomach facing him with your hands tucked just a little under your pillow. You were still in deep sleep but it did not look as peaceful as he remembered - your brows were furrowed, your lips moved as if mumbling something and an occasional hand twitch was what he observed.

“Y/N?” Isaac asked, his voice croaked from the lack of use as he leaned on his elbow and tried to coax you awake.

It didn’t take too long before Isaac finally understood what you were saying.

Please, no more...p-please.

Leaning over your side of the bed, Isaac flicked the switch to your bedside lamp open and tried to call for you again. He could now see the thin layer of sweat on your forehead, the sheets bunching up in your grasp as your knuckles turned a lighter shade from how tight your grip was.

I can’t t-take it anymore...

“Hey, baby,” Isaac gently ran his hand down your back a few times, trying not to ‘jolt’ you awake. He knew what methods to use in waking you up when things like these happen, though it took multiple trials and errors with a few bumps - more or less scratches - in the way. But god, he’d take you screaming and lashing out at him any day than this.

I’m sorry, I won’t do it again...

“Y/N, please wake up for me.”

It broke his heart more at the thought that while you were already together, even if in that span of time you were simply friends at first, they’ve already done a multitude of things to you.

“Y/N, I’m here - you’re safe.” He tried again, the soft kiss to your temple lingering a little longer in hopes that it might help - let you sense that he was present and you were not in danger anymore.

“Y/N, no one’s gonna hurt you,” He spoke softly.

Covering your clenched hand with his, it was all it took before your eyes flew open with a sharp gasp of air. It took some strength and swiftness from Isaac to hold your wrists when you sat up so fast - almost bumping his chin in the process - that you almost fell out of the shared bed.

“Hey, hey,” He called for you, your eyes were dilated, blown wide and looking around frantically as if you were searching for the threat that plagued your life a year ago and giving you these night terrors that prevented you from having a good night’s sleep.

“I’m here, you’re safe.” He repeated, waiting for you and not letting go.

“Isaac,” He waited a little more before you finally settled down and realized where you were, your voice shook a little as you spoke his name; eyes glassy as you looked at the familiar blue eyes that called for you.

“I’m here.” Isaac gave a small smile as his hold on your wrist loosened before sliding his hands in yours and holding onto them on your lap - the soft yellow light from your bedside lamp gave his face a soft glow; his eyes looking more kinder that it already was.

Not again. Your lips trembled as you held back a sob, you shook your head as you stared down at your joined hands.

You felt trapped.

That was the only thing you felt and you wanted out, you wanted this to stop; you want an end to this thing happening to you - you don’t deserve the man in front of you.

Having known you for so long, Isaac can already see it on your face, he already anticipated it.

“I love you,” He spoke.

Absolutely no room for arguments, “I won’t leave you.”

You felt Isaac’s hands rest on your hips as you withdrew yours from his hold and tried to stop and wipe as many tears as you could with the heel of your hands. He let you lean your head on his shoulder, the feel of his lips placing a comforting kiss to your ear should’ve given your heart a little leap but it didn’t.

“How much longer will you tell me that before you finally get tired?” You did not mean to say it out loud, you hiccupped once your tears finally settled down with your head and heart.

“Never,” Isaac said as he pushed you away a little to look at you, cupping your face in his warm hands to make you look up at him, a glint of playfulness present. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

You could only sigh and give a soft smile.

“You’re too good for me, Isaac.”

Bringing your hands to his lips to kiss your knuckles, he let them go before cupping your face again and leaned down to plant a kiss on your forehead, then your nose and lastly a chaste kiss on your lips.

“You deserve good things, Y/N.”

You deserve them after everything you went through. Isaac gave that smile he reserved only for you when he pulled away.

Lying back down, Isaac pulled you closer to him before pulling the covers up just below your chin.

“We’ll be okay, remember?” Isaac reminded you of the words you said to him when he asked you a year ago.

You did not miss the way he said ‘we.’ You did remember what he told you, that you were in this together - you’re it for me.

“I remember,” you answered, curling as close as you can to his side. The tip of your nose resting against the warm skin of his neck as he rest his chin on top of your head, arms tightening around you before they relaxed.

~

Feedbacks are always appreciated! Especially since I miss writing. But again, I won't be doing much writing anymore since I've somewhat lost touch with both my imagines blogs. I might just rewrite/refurbish some of my old imagines/drabbles.

Again, thank you so much for those who stuck by this imagines blog (and for Brett as well). You don't know how much I appreciate it, again, I'm sorry for not being active (read more here)

[toovirgins]

November, 2001

Summary: George Harrison reunites with an old friend.

There was a chill in the air.

All but uncomfortable, it was still and cool and calm, his skin refusing to prickle up into chills. There was no wind, or rain—bright, but no sun. Just air, all around him, refreshing and energizing and soothing all at once.

His eyes were closed. As his body began to come into itself, familiar sensations tickled up his spine. The first thing he noticed was the press of his feet and backside on the ground—must have been sitting cross-legged—and the feeling of dry, rough linen under the fingertips that rested on his thighs. His skin prickled as it recognized the feel of the linen up his torso as well.

He shifted slightly, as if waking up from a deep sleep. There was a certain mindfulness in practice, hyper-aware of the environment of his body: the cool, smooth ground beneath him, the scratch of the clothing on his skin, the curl of hair against his ear, the tickle of a mustache on his upper lip. When did he grow a mustache?

Internally, he felt… warm, cozy, almost as though in a deep state of meditation. His mind itself was drowsy, though he hadn’t tried to assess the situation much beyond physical sensation. He didn’t feel the need to.

It was nice. Peaceful, really. George couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt such a strong mind-body connection during meditation. There was nothing that existed besides the present; he had no past, and there was no future. It was not one of those times where the mindfulness revealed some grand ethereal Wisdom, and thus it somehow contained more truth. It was nothing and everything all at once.

Rather than let him enjoy this newfound spirituality, a familiar voice (in familiar habit) drew him out of the trance.

“Never thought I’d see the likes of you again, mate!”

George languidly struggled to open his eyes, a half-fight as the voice dropped the silly tone and resorted to a short, sharp chuckle at his own antics. When the eyelids had finally pried themselves open and his vision focused, George frowned.

He looked like a picture, straight out of 1961. Standing before him, arms crossed as he bit his lip with childlike excitement at the reconciliation. George blinked, hardly believing the sight in front of him.

“John?”

“In the flesh,” he grinned. Then a pause. “Or, rather, anything but the flesh?”

John was in front of him, a quite young John, staring at him with a bit of a worried expectancy.

George’s stomach suddenly dropped.

His gaze flicked around the room wildly as unrestrained panic rose in his chest. They were in a room, though it wasn’t a room, just a dull white, not so much white as simply colourless, with no décor or wallpaper or flooring or furniture although somehow, he was now sitting in a chair.

He was dead.

John must have watched the color drain from his head, for he made his way over to where George was sitting and laid an uncertain hand on his shoulder.

“It’s all right,” he soothed, nothing mocking. Nothing to make a joke of. “Takes a minute.”

George suddenly remembered he’d been sick. It was feeding back into him, slowly, as if each thought trigged a new repressed memory. He’d been sick for some time now. Images of nurses and hospital and IV’s and the dread of going to “treatment” began to flood his mind, and he shuddered. He felt a stubborn powerlessness rise within him: yes, it had gotten progressively worse, but it was nothing the old chap couldn’t handle. He’d beat it once already. He’d been stabbed, for Chrissake.

How could this happen?

He thought of Olivia, and Dhani, and choked back a sob.

“I don’t want to be here,” he spluttered in a near-beg, his chest tightening in terror once more. “I can’t be here.”

John’s hand dropped to his side as he almost (almost) rolled his eyes. He held up an imaginary list with one hand, gesturing wildly at it with the other. “Join the queue of nearly every person ever.”

George felt a needle of annoyance shoot through the fear that was slightly ebbing away. He half-wondered if this was the acceptance people talked about in death: the strange inability to control your emotions, your body progressively growing used to the idea and the knowledge of your own helplessness.

“You could stand to be a bit more empathetic, you know. I’ve just died,” he reminded with sarcastic flair.

John smiled brightly at the twinge of normalcy in the expression.

The fear was almost entirely faded now, which struck a new worry in his mind. He couldn’t just surrender to this already—it would solidify it. Make it too true. But the more he thought about it, the more comfortable he became. Against his own will, George was growing in acceptance, knowing that he should be worried but unable to feel the pull of anxiety within him. In an exasperating tug-of-war, he fought between the poles of acknowledgement and fear, a vicious feedback loop that left him confused and exasperated.

Maybe curiosity didn’t mean surrender. Maybe he could test John for some of the millions of queries floating around in his head whilst still protesting the concept of his state.

John was staring at him with wonder, almost as if he was watching George’s mind work.

Here goes nothing.

George looked at him pointedly, raising the most pressing question in his mind. “Is this Heaven?”

John blinked, and George recognized the infamous John-trying-not-to-laugh-because-this-was-a-very-extremely-serious-situation expression rise to his face. “Yes, George. It is. Jokes on you, religion, because Heaven is just me, and you, in this room, and sometimes we play marbles or jack off.”

His face turned more serious at George’s scowl. He went for a Take 2, his voice much softer now. “No, actually,” he corrected, scratching his cheek. “I think it’s some sort of… Purgatory. Bardo.”

George’s chest felt odd. “Purgatory,” he repeated slowly.

“Purgatory.”

“I don’t understand.”

John clicked his tongue. “Again, love. The queue.”

“Purgatory,” George said again, softly, the words dripping with disbelief.

“The in-between,” John elaborated with a grandiose wave of a hand. “You die, you fuck around here for a bit, and if you’re lucky, you pass on.”

George couldn’t contain his curiosity. “To what?”

John’s features twisted into a strange expression. “I, erm… I don’t know.”

George’s face fell. Right. “Do you…” He began carefully, mulling over the taste of the words in his mouth and sussing out which were the least bitter. “Does time pass the same, then? Here?”

John shrugged indifferently. “You don’t notice it, really. There’s no days or nights—time is a construct, anyway. Haven’t thought about it since. There’s also no expectation, so no boredom. And sometimes I see old friends.” He finished with a signal in George’s direction.

George nodded, swallowing dryly. He doesn’t know.

How long it’s been.

John caught his eye, and George flicked his gaze away in an instant before he could catch on. But John was quick as a cat, just like in youth, and his mouth pressed into a firm line. “George?”

George shook his head.

“George?” His voice was strained now, his demeanor thrown by the unsettling responses. “How long has it been? In-in actual time.”

Wincing at the question he knew he’d elicited, George averted his eyes and spoke near incomprehensibly. “Twenty years.”

John looked dazed.

After a long beat of silence, he snorted dryly. There was nothing humorous in the sound. “Suppose they’re still tryin’ to figure out what to do with me, then.” He paused. “For Chrissake, I already apologized in ’66.”

Neither man laughed at the joke. It was quiet for a long time.

“So.” John interrupted the stretch of silence, rather loudly, startling him. He clapped his hands together. “How’s Rings?”

George felt strangely hollow at the mention of his best friend. “Good. Married again, not long after you—” He stopped himself, unable to finish the sentence. It was still hard to wrap his mind around, all these years later. Even now, that John was standing in front of him, chipper as the day they’d first met (more so, perhaps). Even now, that they were both… “After you.”

“Is he?” John looked surprised, curious. “What’s she like?”

“Name’s Barbara. Ritchie made a film in ’81 called Cavemanand they met on the set. He really loves her. Oh, she’s fantastic,” George asserted, wishing John could have been there, needing John to have been there.

“Watch it,” John warned, his voice light and teasing.

George scowled.

John pushed his shoulder playfully, and George slumped further into the chair, defeated. As John’s laughter died down, George looked up at him and watched in fascination as the man did a complete 180.

The smile melted from his face, and a chill fell over the room.

“I—m…” John cleared his throat, offering the ground a watery smile. “I miss Paul.”

George was suddenly standing knee-deep in the ocean. Nothing in the room was different besides the knowledge that the water on the floor was Pacific. John was there still, only further away now, feverishly blinking the tears away with that desolate smile on his face. Before George could call out to him, comfort him, he turned back towards the expansive sea only to be confronted with a fifty-foot wave.

The breath was knocked from his chest as the wave crashed down with full force, heart shattering on impact. He let out an involuntary gasp at the sudden rush of pain that washed over his chest and began to stumble backwards, tears burning in his eyes. There was no water, no wave, and he was still standing, dry as a bone, but the sensation was all the same. Panic began to rise in his throat, blinded by an incomprehensible catalogue of torment, longing, anger, desperation, heartache. Every excruciating emotion simultaneously wrecked his being, coupled with the strangely overpowering feeling of raw, unabashed love.

John caught his arm, quickly pulling him into a hug. George hadn’t realized that he was close again, and gripped him tightly for fear of having him drift away with the tides that were no longer there. Tears streamed down his face as John stroked soothingly at his hair, muttering sweet comforts and apologies over his head.

“I’m sorry, fuck, mate, I’m sorry,” he babbled, trying to squeeze away George’s trembling sobs. “It works like that here, sometimes. Christ, I’m sorry. It’s all right. You’re all right.”

George sniffed, feeling like a child as he pressed closer into his friend’s body. “Works like what?”

John tensed a bit, though George couldn’t understand why. He spoke slowly, sure but hesitant in his explanation. “Emotions. They’re… different. It’s sort of like all that Hare Krishna unity bullshit—” George wrinkled his nose. “—and whatnot, the whole ‘collective unconscious’.”

George frowned at the implication, taking a tentative step back. “You mean…”

“Feel each other’s emotions, you can,” John answered without missing a beat. He spoke plainly, as if he’d explained this away hundreds of times before. “But there’s a historical aspect, too, that part I don’t quite understand. It only happens sometimes.” His eyes lit up as his voice quieted, mumbling to himself more so than George. “Maybe they had to have been there at the time? ‘Cause of the thing with Elvis…?”

George looked up at him in shock, ignoring John’s musings. “That was you? All that?”

John offered him a lopsided smile.

George’s heart began to pound in wild misunderstanding. He’d always known, of course, that John and Paul had that “special connection” that whisked them away to an entirely different reality. He’d grown up an outsider, watching in on the world’s most famous duo and feeling just like anyone else, at times. His stomach felt queasy and slightly bitter at the thought that perhaps he hadn’t even known the half of it.

All that for Paul?

He suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to comfort John. John’s pain was gone now, replaced by only a dull ache, causing George to shudder at the idea of his mate going through that alone all those years ago.

“Paul’s… good,” he said, slightly unevenly. It felt like a good place to start.

John looked up at him quickly, his eyes both intrigued and desperate. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” George smiled. “He came to visit me. Not long…” His breath caught. “Not long before this.”

“I saw Linda,” John said quietly.

An image flashed in George’s mind of John in the very same room, sitting in a cushioned chair. In the vision, his eyes flicked up from the book in his hands, and he did a double-take, uncrossing his ankle from his knee and sitting up abruptly. Somehow, George knew that he was Linda, seeing John through her eyes. He—Linda—offered John a welcome, familial smile, and George noticed the portfolio of expressions on John’s face as the two radiated towards one another with emotions that George could not feel. And then—nothing.

In front of him now, John shifted uncomfortably, and George tried to get his bearings in the present once more. “She didn’t stay long.”

“It was hard,” George agreed, still trying to shake the vision. “She was the love of his life.”

John nodded, avoiding his eyes.

“He never stops talking about you.”

A beat. “I never stop thinking about him.”

Something passed between them. George wished he could go back in time and relive every Beatle moment together with this newfound information. Suddenly, as if they hadn’t before, things made sense: Paris, the LSD trips, India, the breakup. The songwriting feud. Yoko.

He understood now, that it was a complicated love that surpassed the boundaries of typical labels: no dating or marriageor sex, neither platonic nor romantic. There was a lust, but it was different than any other attraction George had experienced; it was motivated, driven by something much larger than himself. None of it was a means to an end—simply living, appreciating one another, taking it day by day until it imploded and rained down on them like a meteor shower, the disastrous aftermath of planned obsolescence. A love like that could never be.

George felt eager to change the subject.

“Have you seen lots of people passing through, then?” His gaze twitched away to offer the barest amount of privacy as John’s hand came up to quickly swipe a stray tear.

“Um, yeah.” He cleared his throat. “You’d never believe—Elvis was here, when I first got here, which was right thrilling. We talked about everything under the sun for who-knows-how-long, but he left too not long after.” He nodded. “Linda. Some lads from school. Real nice chap named Freddie. He and I made a song together, though I can’t remember it now. He was in that up-and-coming rock group, the one on the tail end of the Beatles.”

“Queen,” George corrected, fascinated.

“No, that’s not it. I wanna say… Oh, you know who was a pleasure?” John switched onto this entirely new track, never missing a beat. “I met some psychologist. Taught me all about these fab concepts like behaviorism and operant conditioning and all that. I’d heard about his book, but I hadn’t read it until I met him. Verbal Behavior, is what it was. Real smart guy.”

“Do you see everyone?”

John thought for a moment. “No, certainly not. People die every minute. I’d be dreadfully overwhelmed.”

George smiled. “That is true. Lucky I showed up here, then.”

John returned the grin, almost sadly. “Yes, but you won’t stay long.”

George felt the strangest urge to reach for John’s hand. He suppressed it. “I want to.”

John shook his head. “You’re a good person, George.”

There were a lot of things to say in response. You are too, Johnny. I’m not a good person. We’ve both done some shit. ‘Good person’ is an arbitrary term because we are not our actions, so it wouldn’t matter, even.But nothing felt quite equipped to rival the emptiness of John’s eyes, so he said nothing.

“What do I look like, Geo?” He asked suddenly, staring a hole in George’s head with newfound curiosity.

The question caught him off guard. “What do you mean?”

John waved a hand dismissively as if it were the most normal question in the world. “Come on now, what do I look like?”

George just blinked. “Like… John.”

With a roll of eyes, John reached out and twirled a finger around the tip of George’s mustache. “You’re all Pepper-like. What about me?”

It suddenly occurred to George that this was not how John always looked, and hadn’t been for nearly forty years. He shifted a bit, startled at the realization. “Oh! Erm—Hamburg. Like we’d just stepped out of Top Ten.”

John grinned and stepped back. “Fascinating, isn’t it? It’s always different. That one, I can’t figure out. I first realized when Freddie asked why I looked like ’74 instead of when I died. I couldn’t give him an answer, on account of I hadn’t even realized that fact.”

George laughed, though it wasn’t funny. There was a giddiness bubbling up in him, mirroring the excitement with which John talked. He felt so bizarrely thrilled that his fingers began to tingle, and he chuckled at that too. The feeling rivaled that of a limb falling asleep, and he mindlessly shook his hand to quiet the growing sensation.

John’s face immediately fell.

George’s stomach dropped at the sudden change of pace. “What?”

His eyes were shining when he spoke the plea to anything that would listen. “No, please,” he muttered, lip trembling. Shaking fingers reached out to grasp at George’s bicep. “Not—not yet, I’m not ready—”

George’s heart hammered in his chest, hardly able to hear himself speak over the blood rushing in his ears. The tingle had snaked its way up his forearms now, and a similar feeling started in his toes. “John, John, what is it? What’s going on?”

“George, please don’t go. Please. This isn’t—it’s not long enough, I need you, I need more time, Geo…” The words trailed off, and a tear fell from each eye as John pulled him into his arms as if that could keep George there. As if he could save them.

George slowly started to understand, swallowing the alarm at John’s frantic reaction. He was going to pass on, to leave John behind just like everyone else in his life. But this was a different kind of departure. It was not Julia’s absence, Mimi’s coldness, Paul’s Linda. It was not even Uncle George’s death, or Brian’s death, or even Julia’s death. At least, those times, he could find someone, something new to latch on to.

George would have felt pity for the man if not for the immense heartbreak, the indescribable pain of watching John come emotionally undone before him.

“It’s okay,” he soothed, blinking as a falling tear graced his own face. He felt oddly in control of the situation, despite seconds away from venturing into the greatest Unknown of all Unknowns. “Shh, John, it’s all right. Listen, we got to do this, didn’t we? We got to talk. And laugh. Just like old times, right?”

John’s voice broke. “I love you, Geo. Don’t go.”

They both knew it was a fruitless request.

George gripped him a bit harder in the embrace, feeling with hopeless acceptance as the tingling feeling reached his shoulders and began to pour down his back. He spoke the only thing that would come to mind.

“I’ll see you,” he whispered, a promise tainted by his own fearful tears slipping onto John’s shoulder.

John’s arms tightened around his waist. “I’ll see you,” he repeated.

[tomboyneedshercoffee]

Lovedust Pt.5 || Peter Parker x Stark Reader

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

Word Count: 4.6k

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

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

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

part seven || part eight || epilogue 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“ You have an indoor pool?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“ Oh really? Who?”

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                                         ----------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

6:01pm || Y/N: you there yet? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Spiderman Stops an Armed Gunman Outside Plaza

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“ Let go of me!”

“ Y/N! I got you!” 

“ It’s me Peter!” 

“Y/N!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“ You’re safe Y/N, you’re okay.” 

“ Don’t worry I got you.” 

“ Just breathe for me, okay?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

@eridanuswave​ @juliet-winterson​ @akacalumtrash​ @ilovepeterparker13​

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[notkageyamasprincess]

embarrassing things about them | pt. iv

nekoma

genre/warnings: basically you should stop reading if you don’t want to see me slander your faves. crack!1! & like minimal fluff

kuroo tetsurō

genuinely believes he’s a really good singer but he’s really not

you went to a karaoke bar for your third date since you both loved singing

also karaoke bars are conveniently dim so 😳

he queued his song, took a deep breath, and opened his mouth. you were speechless

he sounded like ice jj fish if you were wondering

“kuroo... what the fuck”

“i know, i’m pretty good right?” “uhm no-”

kai nobuyuki

a guy who pays attention to his health

but a worrywart over small things

his search history is all stuff like “sharp pain in my right side what does this mean” “left foot numb in the middle of the night” “saw a tiny dark spot in corner of my vision am i going to be okay”

tummy hurts a bit too much for a bit too long

he just ends up scaring himself because he always ends up on those sketchy medical sites that tell him he has cancer or some kind of horrible illness

please reassure him 🥺

yaku morisuke

he was 14, felt fresh asf coming home bc! this boy! was single no more! nice!

but he didn’t know how to kiss and he really wanted to impress them

you bet he practiced kissing on his arm

alone in his room ofc. well, until his dad barged in

“hey son, could you-”

he whipped around and shamefully removed his lips from his forearm

his dad?? just?? quietly closed the door?

yamamoto taketora

he’s definitely a fanboy for those girl idol groups (like tōdō from jjk)

he somehow acquired a life sized cardboard cutout of his fave

he keeps her hidden away in his closet bc there’s no way he can leave her out in the open

it gave his mom a FRIGHT when she went in to clean his room omgomgomg

i feel like it warranted a family meeting 💀

kozume kenma

i hc that he probably gets his hair done at a salon (sksj omg can you imagine his cute lil butt sitting in the chair w the cape around him)

anyways his regular guy was on vacation and he desperately needed an appointment

so he decided to pick up a box of hair dye and tried to diy bad decision very bad

he didn’t really know what brand was good or what shade so he just randomly got the first blond colour from a really sus brand but he didn’t know that 😭

listen. he accidentally dyed his hair NEON YELLOW.

highlighter lookin’ ass

he didn’t know wtf to do next and school was hell the next day bc no hats allowed

fukunaga shōhei

so you know how he says little jokes to himself and laughs??

his classmates were like “oi fukunaga, how come you’re always laughing, what’s so funny?”

and shō was real excited to tell his jokes

NO ONE LAUGHED. NOT ONE SOUL. IT WAS AWKWARD. 😐

the only one rolling on the ground in tears was himself

(this is kinda sad i need to compensate bc i lob him)

but years down the line, you ended up sharing his weird humour so he knew you were the one <3

inuoka sō

he’s always hyper and cheerful and loves to help people out!!

so when he was walking in the streets and saw a girl with her hands full drop something, he had to go in there!

he went in there. quite literally. her skirt i mean.

when he crouched down to pick up what she dropped, his head caught onto the hem of her skirt and when he lifted his head back up......

it was an honest mistake!! baby boy would never!! really tragic how it happened really omg please he’s not a pervert please don’t call the cops he’s already so embarrassed

haiba lev

so we all know he’s really tall

and if you’ve ever been to japan, well, it’s not the friendliest place for lanky bean poles like him

especially doorways of trains/subways. doorways in general

bumps his head in front of people so much

sometimes really hard too how does he not get concussions???

sometimes gets a big bump on his forehead before he even arrives at school

is that why he’s such a dumb dumb?

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv

taglist: @sparkykatsuki

[godofplumsandthunder]

Twisted Fate

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Cancer, both Bucky and reader have cancer, Major Character death, brief hospital terms mainly reffering to cancer treatment. References to amputation.

A/N: This was written for the lovely @eurynome827​ 2k celebration. I got a lovely quote of lyrics from Hadestown, which I wanted to do something that was based off of the musical, but I couldn’t figure anything out. Then I had a big anniversary come up and this was came out instead. It’s very angsty, I cried a lot, and well I hope you like it.

The low, steady hum of the fan fills the awkward silence. The psychiatrist, newly assigned to the case, still doesn’t feel comfortable. “Case number 32557038” was widely known in the health care center. The whispers and rumors floated their way down the hall, past the copy machine, filling the office with this chilling tale. Some regarded it as a terrible series of bad luck, others thought it was an act of some benevolent God, pouring his rage on this poor couple. Dr. Breynord, after reading the notes on the file, Breynord knew that this case was perhaps the worst case of bad luck she ever saw in her career, and, maybe it was her stubbornness or naive belief in medicine, but Dr. Breynord was going to help this poor man get the peace he so desperately needs.

“James,” Dr. Breynord’s voice breaks the silence of the office, “I’ve read what my colleagues had to say about your case, but, I’d like you to tell me what has happened if you feel comfortable.”

Shifting in his seat, James sighs, with a small nod of the head, he starts at the beginning.

Bucky Barnes was used to change. Granted, it was other people’s change, but it was still change nonetheless. The poor folks that sat next to him each clinic visit changed, his caretakers changed, it seemed as if the whole world changed around him, while he was stuck in some perpetual hell. Every day dragged out in the same dull, and nauseating feeling, and at times, Bucky felt he was in an endless loop, forsaken by some deity he didn’t believe in. But, for however long Bucky has left in this fallen and cruel world, he’ll remember when you walked in, shattering the miserable purgatory he was banished to, he’ll always remember the day you changed his life.

It happened during his first transfusion session after his surgery. His arm, still wrapped in bandage, IV tubing leading straight to his heart, pumped his body full of liquids, as he waited for the toxic poison to enter his body. He always found it ironic, the “medicine” that was supposed to save his life, that was too dangerous for the nurses to touch with their bare hands, was willingly flushed into his body. Hair loss, mouth sores, and muscle aches were the better side effects. He can’t help but think about what is coming, especially as he sees his nurse, Thor, come over with the freshly made batch of poison [STRIKE THROUGH], chemotherapy as his doctor would want him to call it. Hanging the bag on his IV pole, Thor looks over at Bucky, giving him the “I’m going to go on a rant about something you should care about” look. 

“Now James, we’re getting a new patient today. It’s their first transfusion. They’re going to be sitting in the pod next to you. I swear to the gods, I best not hear another complaint about your attitude.”

“Me? An attitude? No, I think you got me confused with someone else. I’m the brightest little ball of sunshine here!” Bucky can’t help but chuckle. It’s not his fault he wasn’t a “warrior”, blasting “Fight Song” 24/7, as he sips on a kale smoothie with coffee suppositories shoved up his ass. T

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, Barnes,” Thor shakes his head as he cleans up his station, “don’t think I won’t throw your bald ass out of here. That cancer sob story, won’t work on me.” 

Bucky goes back to his phone, already feeling the effects of the chemo. No matter how many anti-nausea meds they fed him, Cisplatin always makes him sick. So, he had the right to act like a grumpy old grandpa. While he scrolls through his social media feed, seeing all the accomplishments, brags, and just shit of his friends, Bucky hears your sniffles, as you make your way down to the end of the Oncology clinic, taking a seat next to Bucky. Even if Thor hadn’t given him the heads up, he would have known you were fresh meat. One infusion, his mom asked him how he could tell. It was easy for Bucky, it all had to do with the eyes. A cancer diagnosis shatters you. It kills all hope, light, and goodness that’s in you. You turn completely numb to the world, to the point where your own wailing and sobs feel muted. Bucky saw all of that in your eyes. Behind the puffy, redness, saw the shards of hope, the fear of the unknown. Before you could reach your seat, you stumble, spilling your possessions that you carried all over the floor. Bucky watches quietly as you quickly pick up your items, collapsing into the chair next to him. 

“Sorry I couldn’t give you a hand, only have the one,” he wiggles his stump, and he's met with silence. Talk about a rough crowd, he thinks, his nephews love his stumpy jokes. “So,” Bucky continues, “what are you in for? I’m a sarcoma, in the arm.” You sniffle as you turn your body to look at this new man.

“Leukemia,” you confess, voice barely above a whisper. It takes a real effort to say it out loud because then it makes all of this real.

“That’s good then,” the “sarcoma” man says to you, and Bucky can see the confusion, and pain on your face.

“How is that good? How is cancer good?”

Using his arm, Bucky points around the room, giving you a tour of the room.

“See him, that’s Riley, he has an inoperable brain tumor. That young kid, with the Switch? His name is Peter, his body is chemo resistant. So yeah, leukemia is good. If you haven’t learned it yet, not all cancers are made equal.”

“Oh,” you barely make out. What were you supposed to say to that? 

=====

Much to Bucky’s surprise, he actually enjoyed having your company. Your treatments lined up and so you both got to know each other well. Bucky enjoyed having someone close to his age that understood his problems. And it also didn’t hurt that you had such a great personality, you got Bucky’s dark humor (and it went without saying that you understood it was his way of coping), and you looked great. Not many people can rock a bald head. And Bucky has seen his fair share, and he can say with confidence, you rocked it. Not covering it up with caps, scarves, or wigs. Because why should you hide away? For the first time since his diagnosis, Bucky had a purpose. So, while his immune system allowed him to leave the house, he picked up a bouquet of fake flowers (neutropenia life, am I right?) and a box of chocolates to take with him to the next transfusion. When he got to the clinic, Bucky was a bit worried to see that you weren’t next to him. Instead, there sat Barb, 75 years old with breast cancer. 

“Oh sweetie, are those for me?” Barb looks at the flowers in Bucky’s hand. 

“No!” He snaps, as closes the curtain that surrounds his chair. He hears some huffs and complaints from Barb, but frankly, he doesn’t give a damn. Bucky only has one thing on his mind: you. 

“Are you alright? You’re not here at Club Med” Bucky texts as quickly as his one hand would let him. Dropping his phone, Bucky stares at it all while the nurses prep him. And because of damn, HIPAA, none of the nurses can tell him where you’re at. Minutes turn into hours, and by the time Bucky’s infusion ends, you still haven’t responded to him or shown up at the clinic. 

“Hope you’re okay. Call or text me. I'm worried” Bucky sighs, realizing how much you made his chemo treatments more bearable. How your laugh could make him forget of the poison he had to take, or how the light in your eyes could make him forget, even just for a bit, how much his arm stump was hurting. You were a drug, more potent than any he’s had before, and Bucky was becoming addicted. He’s picking at the hamburger he got for dinner, not having much of an appetite when his phone goes off. Seeing it’s from you, he rushes to answer. 

“Y/N! I… Where were you? I missed you today. I had to sit by Barb and…” The sounds of your cries cut Bucky off. 

“Are you okay?”

“No, Buck. I… Got some bad news today.” 

“Where are you?” He asks. He knows you’re alone, and speaking from experience, you never want to be alone when you get bad news. He knows from experience.

“Buck…” you sigh, “It’s fine. Really.” 

“Please, Y/N, I know what it’s like to be alone after getting this kind of news. Please, let me be there for you.” Breaking further down into tears, you cry at Bucky’s actions, actions of love. 

“I’ll send you my address,” Bucky gathers the flowers and chocolates as he rushes to your apartment, breaking a few traffic laws to get there faster. When he gets there, the image of you, opening the door, eyes swollen from crying breaks his heart. 

“Oh, Y/N,” Bucky sweeps you into his arm, as he closes the door behind, “tell me what’s going on hun.” 

You both sit on the couch, the bag with the flowers and chocolate lay at your feet, as you stay in Bucky’s embrace. 

“I’m… I’m dying Buck!” You manage to say in-between odds. “Dr. Fair... gave me three months to live. There’s nothing else they can do.” You break down in his arms, that last straw finally breaking, as you tell your newfound best friend, the person you were supposed to beat cancer with. Bucky tries his best to remain strong, to be the rock, the foundation you need, but you’re not the only one that is losing a friend. You sit in each other's embrace, as you mourn. You cry for all the missed opportunities, laughs, and memories that won’t be made. 

“What am I going to do,” you whisper, your voice hoarse from crying. 

Kissing your head, Bucky pulls you in closer, “we, are going to make these three months, the best three months you’ve ever had.”

Bucky lives up to his promise, spending every hour he isn’t in the hospital with you. The time you spent together changed your relationship. Neither had to officially say the words to make your relationship official. It was just you, and Bucky. Holding each other close, as the tempest waged on, trying to beat you into submission. You go on walks in the park, picnics, and one night when you both had the energy, went skinny dipping. Your logic being, what are the cops going to do? Arrest two cancer patients, with one of them being terminal? You threw caution to the wind and simply lived. Lived, breathed, and loved. Things seemed to be perfect until reality hit.

Your body wasn’t keeping up. Your cancer was spreading faster than they predicted. The doctors couldn’t give you an explanation as to why the cancer was spreading so fast. It shouldn’t have been. Soon, home hospice came, to try to make you more comfortable. And like the good partner he was, Bucky spent every minute by your side. That’s why, when you felt the inevitable coming, you felt your body give in to the tiredness of fighting, you grab Bucky’s hand. 

“I love you, James Bucky Barnes,” you weakly say, giving him one last affirmation, as you went to sleep, for one last time. 

As Bucky wakes up from his nap, feeling your cold body, he tries to ruse you back awake. Once he realizes what has happened, the last bit of humanity inside of Bucky snapped. He lets out a blood-curdling scream, as tears stream down his face. He strikes your face, pleas escape his mouth. Pleas to you, to a God he has long stopped believing in. His body shakes, his tears wetting your hair, as he holds you for one last time. 

=====

“Oh James,” Dr. Breynord grabs herself a tissue before handing Bucky the box of tissues. “I truly am so sorry to hear that. I want you to know that I am here to help you get happy again, and to heal.”

Bucky sighs and turns away from the doctor as he wipes his eyes. “You’re just like the rest of them. You didn’t listen to me.” 

Breynord was surprised that this was Bucky’s complaint. The other doctors had warned her that Bucky could be sarcastic, standoff-ish, and even flat-out rude to them. Breynord thought she did a good job listening to his story, what did she miss.

“I… I don’t think I understand what you mean, James.”

Bucky lets out a heartless, empty laugh, “you want me to be happy again. I’m never going to be. Not only do I have to live with the guilt of surviving, when she died, in my arms, but I’ll also never find another soul like hers. We had a connection, you know. It felt like we met before. When I held her in my arm, and her arms would wrap around me, it felt like I had the whole world in my arms. I didn’t need anything else when I had Y/N.” 

“So tell me doc, what’s the point of carrying on?”

[crystalstar8]

Knights of the Night (ch 19)

Chapter 19

Ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5, ch 6, ch 7, ch 8, ch 9, ch 10, ch 11, ch 12, ch 13, ch 14, ch 15, ch 16, ch 17, ch 18, ch 19

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29139240/chapters/71536491

pairing: Jungkook x oc

genre: vampire au, college au, twilight, romance

word count: 1,012

warnings: blood (obviously), kidnapping, child kidnapping, needles, France, human trafficking

notes: vampires, vampire au, college, college au, so many twilight references, blood, needles, kidnapping, children, homelessness, dance, ballet, flashbacks, romance, slow burn, probably no smut, idk yet tho, France, French things, attempted genocide, inaccurate French history, bisexual main character, @strawberriewithchocolate-blog @mozy-j  @daechwitad-2​ @zobadak​ @fallenstar-7​​​

summary: Catalina starts college in a small town all the way across the country. She doesn’t know anyone and isn’t exactly looking for friends. She just wants to focus on dance. But when she meets fellow dance major, Jimin, and adventurous, fellow freshman, Jungkook, Catalina ends up discovering a whole new side to the small college town; one that is dangerous but oh so enticing...

When Jimin finally awoke, he was met with a set of big blue eyes staring back at him. He gasped and tried to get away, but the action made his head ache something awful. He held his head in his hands and glanced up. There was a little boy sitting beside his bed staring at him…no. Not his bed. This wasn’t his bed. This was a dingy cot in the corner of a tiny cement room. The little boy was staring at him with wide eyes. He had ahead full of dark, unkempt hair. He was pale and shivering.

“What’s your name?” the boy asked.

“Jimin,” he said. He wanted to panic, but that probably wasn’t the best thing to do right now, for the sake of the child and for the sake of his still throbbing head. “What’s your name?”

“Caleb,” the boy said.

“Do you know where we are, Caleb?” Jimin asked. Caleb shook his head. It was then that he noticed the needle in his arm. The needle was connected to a tube, which ran up to a blood bag on an IV pole. His heart sank. “Fuck,” he whispered.

“That’s a bad word,” said Caleb.

“Sometimes, a situation calls for bad words,” said Jimin. Caleb smiled.

“Yeah, this situation is pretty fucking bad,” he said. Jimin’s eyes widened.

“Just don’t say that around your parents,” said Jimin. The smile fell from Caleb’s face.

“I don’t think I’m gonna see my parents again,” said Caleb.

“Why would you say that?” Jimin asked, carefully peeling the tape off holding the needle down.

“I’m not stupid,” Caleb said, picking at his sweater. “My mom told me that there’s people out there who kidnap kids and sell them. And that’s why I have to be careful with strangers. I saw a ton of people come in here and talk about prices, and they tasted my blood. It’s so creepy! I already had two roommates before you got here. Both of them got sold right away. I bet you’ll be next. The Dracula guys like pretty people who are adults more than they like kids I guess.”

“They don’t like kids?” Jimin asked.

“No,” said Caleb. “Well, they said that my blood is really good ‘cause it’s clean. But they said that kids are too much to deal with. I guess it’s a good thing.”

“Probably is,” said Jimin. He slowly pulled the needle from his arm and then reached for Caleb’s arm. Caleb let him do the same with his needle.

“They’ll get mad,” said Caleb.

“We’ll put them back in in a few hours,” said Jimin. “How often do they come in?”

“Not very often. Like, twice a day to give us food and put the needle in or take it out,” said Caleb.

“We just won’t let them take too much from us,” said Jimin. “Besides, my friends know where I am. They should be coming to rescue us soon.”

“That’s presumptuous,” said Caleb.

“That’s a big word,” said Jimin.

Caleb shrugged and said, “I learned it from a book. I like to read. Do you like reading?”

“I used to,” said Jimin. “Now I’m too busy to read. I go to college, so I have a lot of homework and dance practice.”

“You dance?” Caleb asked. “My big sister is in dance class too.”

“Oh yeah? How old is your sister?” Jimin asked.

“She’s twelve,” said Caleb. “I’m eight. I miss her, even though she’s a jerk sometimes.”

“I’m sure she misses you too,” said Jimin. “You’ll see her again. Hopefully soon.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  “You actually showed up!” Makai shouted, standing up to greet them with open arms.

               Yoongi led the way into the room, Catalina and Jungkook following behind.

               “Yoongi is the best one for this role,” said Namjoon.

               “Why? You’re the leader,” said Catalina. “I feel like they’d expect you to be the one going in.”

               Yoongi chuckled and said, “Namjoon is too nervous. He can’t act his way out of a paper bag.”

               “I…well yeah,” Namjoon said, not trying to defend himself. “I can’t act. Or lie.”

               “So, to review,” said Jungkook. “We’re acting as Yoongi’s familiars. We’ll go in, buy Jimin, and then leave?”

               “Right,” said Namjoon. “Nothing else happens that day. We’ll execute the second part of our plan another time.”

               “I suppose I was curious,” said Yoongi, shaking Makai’s hand. Makai had that easy going smile on his face. It was disarming, Catalina needed to stay focused on hating the man.

               It was nerve wracking, being able to just walk into the facility like this. Catalina had never felt this kind of adrenaline before. She tried her best to stay calm and regulate her breathing though. Namjoon warned them that vampires can basically smell fear. They can hear when a human’s heart beats faster and smell when their blood rushes quicker.

               They were standing by the desk in the middle of the lounge-like space. This was the area Catalina and Jungkook saw when they snuck in.

               “Are you looking to buy today?” Makai asked. “Or were you just in the neighborhood?”

               “I’m not sure yet,” said Yoongi. “It depends on if you have anything I like.”

               “I’ve got quite the variety,” said Makai. “And all our products are very high quality. All very healthy and clean.”

               “That’s good to know,” said Yoongi. “Most of these kinds of organizations get their products off the streets, they’re usually riddled with drugs and diseases.”

               Catalina chose not to think about why Yoongi knew that.

               Makai chuckled and said, “I have to admit, we started our company like that. We’ve improved so much over the years though. Anyway, I can give you a tour. If you’d like, there’s a waiting room in the back where your familiars can stay.”

               “No thank you,” said Yoongi. “I’d rather they stay with me. I don’t trust you just yet.”

               “What’s not to trust about this face?” Makai asked, pouting a bit. He burst into laughter. “I’m totally joking. You have no reason to trust me, you barely know me! I hope we can be friends someday though. I like you, Yoongi.”

               With that, Makai led the way deeper into the facility. The first door he opened made Catalina’s heart drop. The woman inside was limp and pale, sitting up against the wall on a cot. Her hair was thin and her lips were blue.

               “We’ve had her for a while, so I would probably let you have her for a hundred if you’re interested,” said Makai. He closed the door and continued down the hall. He pointed at a room through a pair of archways and said, “That’s the recreation room. There’s snacks, if you guys want anything.”

               “Chocolate?” Yoongi asked.

               “Haha! Sure, let’s see,” said Makai. He went in and rummaged through the cupboards. Catalina hung back with Jungkook and took his hand. He squeezed her hand back, leaning in to whisper, “Are you okay?”

               Catalina nodded, even though she was starting to feel queasy. Yoongi came back to them with a mouthful of Dove chocolate, more in his hand.

               “Jungkook will have his phone in his shirt pocket, with the camera facing out. It’ll be recording the entire time,” said Namjoon. “This way, we can map out a basic floor plan.”

               Catalina glanced at the phone in Jungkook’s shirt pocket as they were led deeper into the facility. Makai continued showing them “products”, as he called them. There were so many. Catalina didn’t know how she’d be able to leave them all here today. She hated thinking about Jimin in this situation.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

               Jimin tried his best to keep track of the days, but without any outside light source and an irregular sleeping schedule, time quickly began to blur together. He had no idea how much time had passed. He what he could though.

               He didn’t let the vampires take too much blood from him and Caleb, just enough so they wouldn’t notice a loss. He made sure he and Caleb ate everything they were given, to keep up their strength. Every few days, or so Jimin figured, they would have a break from being hooked up to the IV. During those days, they made sure to eat and move around as much as they could.

               But after a while, everything began catching up to them. They were slowly losing energy. Jimin hoped his friends would find him soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

               Seeing these people, tired and limp, and hearing Makai list off prices like they were at a car dealership made Catalina feel sick. She knew this kind of thing went on, but to see it with her own eyes was something she would never forget. She had to keep reminding herself that they would come back for these people.

               “This one is a little feisty, but if you keep her drained, she should be fine,” said Makai, closing the door on another cell. “Did you see any you liked? Did you at least like the tour?”

               Catalina’s stomach dropped. That couldn’t have been the last one. Where was Jimin? Did someone already buy him? It hasn’t even been a week!

               Jungkook took her hand and squeezed hard.

               “Do you have anything else?” Yoongi asked. His bored façade was still going strong, or maybe it wasn’t a façade. Catalina couldn’t be sure. Did he even actually care about these humans? Either way, he was doing a good job on this mission.

               “I mean, we have other humans, but they’re not ready for purchase yet,” said Makai.

               “I want to see them,” said Yoongi.

               “Sure, were you looking for something in particular?” asked Makai.

               “Eh…not exactly. I suppose I’ll know when I see it,” said Yoongi.

               Makai pointed to him and said, “I totally understand. Ya know, it’s like buying clothes. Fashion trends change so fast and I never know what I want to buy for summer, or for winter or whatever. But when I see it, I know! Can you believe the early 2000’s are coming back? It just ended! Give it a break for a bit!”

               Makai laughed heartily as he rambled on, leading them to a different hallway. He opened a few doors and introduced a few people inside. These people looked a little less tired than the others. These ones still had a bit of color in their cheeks.

               The third door he opened was the one. Jimin stared back at them with wide eyes. The fear in his eyes melted away when he saw them. But there was another set of frightened eyes staring at them from over Jimin’s shoulder.

               A child sat behind him, clutching Jimin’s t-shirt.

               Yoongi faltered. He didn’t say anything for a moment.

               “Is this the one? Are you having your moment?” Makai asked.

               “How much for both?” Yoongi asked.

               “Oh…well, the kid isn’t for sale,” Makai said.

               “Ten thousand for the kid,” said Yoongi. “One thousand for the other guy.”

               Catalina watched with amusement as Jimin pouted, glaring at Yoongi.

               “Okay, so these guys aren’t really for sale right now,” said Makai. “So you’re gonna have to-“

               “Fifty thousand for both,” said Yoongi. Makai closed his mouth.

               “Ya know what, I like you Yoongi. So I’ll give them to you for fifty and a half,” said Makai.

               “Deal,” said Yoongi. They shook hands, Makai smiling wide.

               “I’m just warning you, this one’s squirrely,” Makai said, pointing to Jimin. “And the kid is too smart for his own good. So do with that what you will.”

               “I have these guys,” Yoongi said, gesturing to Jungkook and Catalina. “I’ll be fine.”

               “Right on, man!” Makai said, slapping Yoongi on the shoulder. “Let’s go to my office.”

               Makai’s office was beautiful; the first thing Catalina noticed was the zen garden in the corner, bamboo shoots rising from the center. The whole office was dim, with stylish, plush furniture filling the space. The sound of running water brought Catalina’s attention to the black stone mini water fountain on the desk at the center of the room.

               Makai went behind the desk and pulled out two forms.

               “Are you paying cash or bitcoin?” Makai asked.

               “What the hell is bitcoin?” Yoongi asked. Makai burst into laughter.

               “Cash it is, then,” he said once he finished laughing. “Just go ahead and sign these for me real quick. This one is a nondisclosure agreement. Don’t go posting about this on social media and definitely don’t tell the cops!”

               Makai laughed again, but Catalina didn’t find any of this funny. She wanted to get out of here as soon as possible.

               “And this one is just an agreement stating that once the transaction is complete, the product is nonrefundable and fully your responsibility,” Makai said. Yoongi signed both forms, then pulled several stacks of cash out of his jacket pocket. Catalina and Jungkook’s eyes bulged. He was just carrying all that in his pocket?, Catalina thought with a start.

               Makai laughed and pointed at them. “Looks like your familiars are thinking the same thing I am. You’re gonna get robbed doing stuff like that, man! You’re stronger than the average guy, but vamps like cash too, ya know!”

               “I don’t go shopping very often,” Yoongi said, counting out the stacks of bills.

               “Clearly,” said Makai, double checking the cash, then storing it in one of the desk drawers. The two of them shook hands. “Do you want them delivered or do you want them right now?”

               “I’m parked outside,” said Yoongi. “I can take them now.”

               “Sounds good to me,” said Makai. “Just go ahead and wait outside, I’ll have someone bring them up.”

               “Don’t damage them,” said Yoongi. “I like my products pristine.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

               Jimin and the child clinging to him stayed silent as they got into the car, all the way until Jungkook parked the car in the lot of a Popeye’s just outside of town. Then they all piled out of the car and Catalina and Jungkook immediately tackled Jimin in a tight hug. Yoongi climbed out of the car slowly, then helped the child out of the back seat.

            ��  “What’s your name kid?” Yoongi asked as Catalina and Jungkook fussed over Jimin.

               “Caleb,” he said in a quiet voice.

               “You’re safe now,” said Yoongi. “We’ll get you back to your parents.”

               Caleb’s eyes widened.

               The whole group of them went into the Popeye’s and ordered as much food as everyone wanted. Caleb squeezed into the booth with Jimin, the rest sitting on the other side.

               “These are my friends I was telling you about,” said Jimin.

               “Ooohhh,” Caleb said, eyeing all three of them as he munched on his fries.

               “Are you guys hurt at all? What was it like in there?” Jungkook asked.

               “I mean, it wasn’t even that bad,” said Jimin.

               “Yeah! It wasn’t even that bad!” said Caleb.

               “Okay, I mean, it sucked really bad, and it would have been worse if we got bought by someone else before you got there, but it worked out fine,” said Jimin.

               “Yeah, the situation was pretty fucking bad!” Caleb said, giggling and dunking his chicken strips into too much sauce.

               Catalina and Jungkook’s eyes widened. Jimin and Yoongi just laughed.

               “Don’t say that in front of your parents,” said Jimin, ruffling the kid’s hair.

               “I just can’t wait to see the look on Namjoon’s face when we bring a child home with us,” said Catalina. Yoongi groaned and put his head in his hands.

               “Yeah, I can’t wait either,” he said, sounding like he could, in fact, wait.

[daringyounggrayson]

Summary: Dick and Bruce have been on shaky terms for a while, but they realize that none of that matters when they're both captured on an impromptu team-up. To make matters worse, one of their captors has a grudge against Dick, who already isn't at the top of his game due to injuries. Separated, Bruce can only watch and hope that someone finds them before it's too late.

Content Warning: gunshot wounds, blood, discussion of injuries, vomiting, and feeding tubes. 

oOo

“Nightwing?”

He’s on the ground, gravel pressing into his back. The smell of rain mixes with the distinct smell of blood. He can hear the rain pounding against something—an umbrella, or maybe a tarp—but it doesn’t touch him. He’s wet, though, and he can feel blood running down his face.

“Nightwing?” the voice is louder now, more urgent.

“Quiet!” someone hisses, followed by the sound of a blunt object coming into contact with flesh.

Dick opens his eyes only for them to immediately close again. He uses all of his energy to blink them open and refuse the tempting offer to keep them closed. He looks like he’s in a scrapyard, and Batman is being restrained by two men, both armed. Not good.

He tries to push himself up, to get a better look at their captors, or to at least adjust himself so into a less painful position, one that makes it a little easier to breathe. He hears the gravel crunching before he’s even gotten an arm under himself.

“Don’t touch him,” Bruce warns, followed by a grunt when the butt of a gun collides with him again.

Dick is still trying to push himself up when a foot collides with his chest. It sends him back down gasping, but more kicks keep coming. He’s coughing and curled up on his side by the time they stop. There’s something metallic in his mouth, but he can’t work up the strength to spit it out. A hand grips his hair and yanks his head up. He snaps his eyes for a moment, and one of the strangers shakes him a little, hissing, “Stay down.”

His head slams against the ground again and Dick does his best not to move. Not so much because of the warning; it just really hurts.

“Nightwing, are you alright?” Bruce asks, taking another hit before he’s even finished his question.

“Talk to him again, and we’ll shoot him.”

He hears a car roll up over the sound of his ragged breathing.

“What the hell took you so long?” Someone calls out when a car opens.

There’s a laugh. “I don’t think you have a right to complain here, seeing as you’re the one who—”

“We don’t have time for this,” another guy says. “Did you get the stuff?”

“Right here.” Something rustles, maybe a bag. Dick is too busy breathing to open his eyes and look. “There are a few doses in there, wasn’t sure how much we’d need.”

The bag rustles some more. “We’ll start with one and see how it goes. You get the Bat, I’ll take that one.”

“I hate needles,” someone else mumbles. “And does he really need it? Look at him.”

“We’re not taking chances. Suck it up.”

More gravel crunching, and then Dick can hear Bruce struggling against his captors. Dick can’t bring himself to move, but he does open his eyes. A guy is coming toward him with a needle.

Dick watches as he kneels on the ground and sets the needle on the ground. He pulls a penlight out of his pocket and turns it on, holding it in his teeth. The brightness makes Dick close his eyes again.

“Don’t think it will go through the suit. Neck okay?” he calls.

“Just get it in him!”

The man pulls Dick’s hair back and holds his head down, then Dick hears the clatter of the syringe.

Bruce is struggling again, and Dick wonders if he’s already been given his injection. “Don’t touch him!”

There’s the smack of a gun against Bruce again. “What the fuck did I tell you?”

Dick hisses as the needle is shoved into his neck and the liquid is forced into his veins. It burns and Dick wonders what hell it will do to him.

“Mel, you finished?”

“One second,” the guy—Mel, apparently—says. “Yup, all good.” The needle slides out of Dick’s skin and he digs his fingers into the gravel.

“Move,” the other guy says, and the gravel crunches quickly as he gets closer. He looks up to see Mel shoved to the side as a gun is aimed at Dick. “Maybe this will help you learn that your actions have consequences.”

The gun goes off and Dick feels a sharp, burning spread across his lower leg. He tries to move, to grasp his leg, stem the bleeding, but he takes a kick to the stomach for his efforts that leaves his coughing and choking.

“Stop!” Bruce shouts, has been shouting, but it sounds slurred. “Get away from him!”

The man tisks. “Now look what you’re making me do.”

The gun goes off again, this time hitting his stomach. Dick gasps, hands going to cover his stomach.

Bruce doesn’t say anything this time.

“Good. See? Keep that up and you two will be just dandy.”

“My car won’t,” one of the guys whines. “Blood is such a pain to get out.”

“We’ll bandage him and put him on a tarp, chill out.”

Dick feels dizzy and his ears are ringing. It’s getting hard to stay awake, and he feels a little numb.

Someone’s pressing against his head, his stomach, his leg. Then he feels himself being lifted to the air and set down on a hard, crinkly surface. A door slams shut and Dick has no idea how much time has passed when he feels himself lurch forward.

“Nightwing?” Bruce whispers next to him. “You’re going to be alright, chum. They gave us sedatives.” Bruce must be restrained because he doesn’t touch him. “Fight it.”

Dick can’t answer him; he’s already lost to the world.

oOo

Dick wakes up on a padded surface. The surface isn’t especially soft; his best guess is a gurney. There’s the familiar sound of medical monitors beeping, and there’s a nasal cannula feeding him oxygen. He feels nauseous and everything hurts, which someone should do something about, because by every indication, he’s somewhere where someone could do something about it.

But something’s off, too. Because there’s something tight pulled across his chest and thighs, and something is digging into his wrists and ankles. When he forces his eyes open, he finds that he’s in a poorly lit room that he doesn’t recognize. It looks like a basement or a storage unit.

He turns his head—damn, his neck is sore—and finds what looks like a chain-link fence that goes all the way up to the ceiling.

“What?” he can’t help but whisper. His throat hurts too, in a family way like he’s just gotten out of surgery, and that much would explain the rest of what he’s feeling. But if that’s the case, why is he here? Why isn’t he home, or at least someplace that looks like it’s been cleaned in the last month?

“Nightwing?” that’s Bruce. He’ll explain everything.

Dick turns his head to the other side, now taking in the IV pole beside him. He sees Bruce—still in his Batsuit, but stripped of his belt—restrained and kept in his own chain-link cage. “What . . . what happened?”

Bruce’s face falters. “I couldn’t get us out of the restraints. The sedatives they used where strong, and they gave me a second dose before we were put in the van. I couldn’t stay awake.”

The van triggers Dick’s memory, and he remembers the scrapyard, and the men, and the gunshots.

“I woke up when we got here, but we were getting out of a different van than the one we got into and the guards were different. Several people joined us and took you away. They brought me here and they wheeled you in on a gurney about an hour ago,” Bruce explains. “Do you know where they took you?”

Dick shakes his head, trying to think. He remembers bright lights and people wearing scrubs. Someone had asked him questions and he’d tried to answer them but his thoughts wouldn’t cooperate. The scrub-wearing people—doctors, he supposes—hadn’t been happy about that. He thinks he threw up, something else they hadn’t been happy about. They sent someone to get a new gown because Dick hadn’t been able to roll over in time—or move at all, for that matter. He’d passed out again before they’d come back, but he didn’t feel vomit on himself, so he guesses they’d succeeded in finding a new gown—wait! He’s wearing different clothes and his mask is gone. 

He flails on the gurney in panic, trying and failing to get up, get out. The gurney rattles but it doesn’t tip over.

“Nightwing, deep breaths. You’re alright,” Bruce tries to tell him.

“Do they know? My suit—my mask—they took it,” Dick tries to explain.

“I know,” Bruce says. “I know. And we’ll deal with it. But I’m not concerned about that right now.”

“Do they know?” Dick repeats, noticing how the beeping his picked up.

“They haven’t given any indication that they know or care about our identities,” Bruce says. “Take a breath, chum. You need to breathe.”

Bruce hasn’t called him that in a while; something about the nickname calms Dick, letting him relax enough to take a breath. A door opens and someone in scrubs comes running in. “I told you we should have kept him in medical,” the one is grumbling.

“And I agreed with you,” her partner grumbles back. Bruce has gone quiet again, and Dick listens as keys clatter and unlock the cage door. It swings open with a rusty squeak.

“How are you feeling, hon?” the woman says. Her hair is pulled into a bun and she has a medical mask over her mouth and nose. She’s pulling on gloves.

The man already has his gloves on and is fiddling with the monitors. “His oxygen is dropping again.”

She glances over at the monitor. “Raise it by ten percent and see how he does.” She steps forward toward Dick, pulling down his blanket and unbuttoning the top of his gown before pulling that down to. It’s then that Dick notices the chest tube, explaining the tugging feeling. She unwraps the stethoscope from around her neck and presses it against his chest, making him shiver. “Deep breath, Nightwing,” she tells him.

He doesn’t change his breathing at all, just stares at her.

She looks down at him, frowning. “Can you understand me?”

Dick doesn’t answer. He moves his gaze to look at what the man is doing. He’s by the end of his gurney, looking at some bags, one of which has blood in it.

“Nightwing,” the woman grabs his chin, pulling his eyes to her. “This is important. Can you follow my finger with just your eyes?”

She moves her finger and Dick, begrudgingly, follows it, unsure of what would happen to him if he didn’t.

“Good,” she praises, a little relieved. “I’m going to flash a light in your eyes now, just look at my nose.”

He does as he’s told, bracing himself for the painful light. She pulls his eyelids up one at a time. “Hmm.”

“What?” the other doctor asks.

“Can you pass me his chart?”

“Here.”

She flips through it, adding a few notes. “I think we’re okay for now, but we should probably schedule another CT later today.”

The man scoffs. “Like they’ll approve that.”

She shrugs. “We can still ask.”

The man lifts the bottom half of Dick’s blanket off, pressing against his feet. His toes curl, and the man asks, “Can you feel that?” Dick nods, and the man lets go of his feet and moves to check the catheters.

“Nightwing,” the woman catches his attention again. “Can you speak?”

“Yes,” he says slowly.

She smiles. “Perfect. Are you in any pain? Still feeling nauseous?”

Dick nods, not feeling speech is worth the throat pain, especially for these two.

“I’ll see what we can do for that. Does taking deep breaths make it worse?”

He nods again, and she nods back sympathetically.

“I thought so, but I need to check your breathing, okay? You were in pretty bad shape when they dropped you off, and with your oxygen dropping like that, we need to make sure things aren’t getting worse.”

He doesn’t like being talked to like this, but he nods.

“Alright, then, let’s give this another try.” She places the stethoscope on his chest, saying, “Deep breath.”

He does as he’s told, taking a deep breath each time he’s asked. Eventually, she’s satisfied and puts the stethoscope back around her neck. “No change,” she announces. She turns to her partner. “Finished?”

“Yeah,” he’s frowning. “No change.”

They pack up their stuff, but Dick realizes he’s now wearing a blood pressure cuff, which they leave on. They button up Dick’s gown again and tuck him back up in the blanket.

“What’s going on?” he finally brings himself to ask.

“Classified,” they say in unison.

The guy gets his attention. “See this?” he points to a button attached to the gurney. “If something feels wrong, press it and we’ll get an alert.”

“Who’s keeping me here?” Dick asks.

“Classified,” they say again.

“We don’t even know this stuff,” the woman tells him. “But some advice: don’t ask questions. They’re not going to kill you, so just don’t cause any problems and you’ll be okay.”

“How long do you plan to keep me here?” Dick tries.

“They’ll probably move you soon, but they never give us a date,” she says. “I doubt they’d do anything with you so soon after surgery, though. There’s nothing you need to worry about right now.”

“And the surgery was for?” Dick asks, already knowing they’re not going to tell him if he still owns all of his organs.

“We told you: you weren’t in good shape when they dropped you off. Worst guy we’ve seen in a while. Pissed off the wrong people, huh?” the man asks.

“We need to get going,” the woman tells him, already at the door. “Oh, and no more trying to move around, yeah? You’ll just hurt yourself. Besides, everything is being video-taped, and if you manage to get off the gurney, we’ll see it and have to activate the electric fence and sedate you—it will be a whole thing.”

“Set your recovery back too, no doubt,” the man adds. “And it will probably make them mad, so fewer painkillers for you.”

Dick blinks at them as they leave without another word. He watches as they say something to Bruce, but Dick can’t make it out. Then they’re gone, out of sight.

“Where the hell are we?” Dick asks Bruce. “Who are these people?”

“I don’t know. I suspect that they’re going to try to auction us off,” Bruce says.

“Great.” Dick rolls his head back to stare at the ceiling. His head is pounding, and after a moment, he closes his eyes.

“How are you feeling?” Bruce asks. “They wouldn’t tell me anything.”

“Honestly? Not great.” And that’s the understatement of the year. Maybe if he could just move, or sit up. “Is someone coming for us?”

“We’ve been missing for at least twelve hours,” Bruce says. “I’m sure someone is looking.”

Dick can feel himself starting to drift off, so he opens his eyes and turns his head to look at Bruce. The lighting isn’t great, and Bruce isn’t exactly close, but from what Dick can see, he looks alright. “Are you okay? They didn’t shoot you too, did they?”

Bruce shakes his head. “I’m fine. A few cuts and bruises. They stitched something when I got here, but they never took me to a medical unit.”

Dick thinks about how Bruce must have felt, sitting here alone and not knowing what they did with Dick or if he’d come back. Dick can only imagine the relief Bruce felt when they wheeled Dick in, and then how quickly it must have been replaced by panic when Dick lied a few yards away, unresponsive for an hour.

Dick swallows. “I’m okay,” he says, but his voice shakes.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Bruce sounds helpless, and it’s just making Dick feel worse.

“I’m okay,” he tries again, but his voice sounds worse than the first time.

“You look tired, chum.”

“Yeah.” It’s weird, Bruce being so close and so far away from him.

“Get some sleep. I’ll take care of everything else.”

“Okay.” Dick exhales slowly. “Okay.”

oOo

Pressure against the bottom of his eyebrows jolts him awake, and he hears the clacking of his restraints against the gurney as he reflexively tries to bring them to his face to smack whatever is causing the pain to go away. The pressure disappears and Dick looks around the room to see three people in the cage with him. The two people in scrubs are the doctors who visited him earlier, and after he woke up from surgery the first time, but the third person is someone new, a little older, and wearing what Dick guesses is a guard uniform. Dick feels a new wave of nausea when he sees he’s holding a tray of food.

“Nightwing?” the one doctor asks. He groans when he sees the penlight she’s holding. “I wasn’t able to get you anything more for the pain or nausea, but we’re working on it. I’m going to do another exam now, and then I’m going to need you to eat something, okay?”

“I’m not hungry,” Dick grumbles. He’d wanted to sit up so badly earlier, but now he just wants to lie down. He turns his head to find Bruce. There are two guards in his cell, watching him eat with one hand still attached to the cage wall. But he’s eating, and Dick wonders what they said to get him to eat. They haven’t been here that long, after all; no way Bruce would crack so easily.

“That’s not up to you,” the guard snarls at him.

“Right,” the woman sighs. “Exam, then?”

She runs through the same exam as earlier while the male doctor changes out his IV bags and jots down vitals. This time, however, they also check his wounds and change some of the bandages.

“Everything is still stable,” the doctor announces, pulling Dick’s gown down again and the blanket back up. “I still want another CT, though.”

“You just said he’s fine,” the guard snaps.

She puts her hands in the air. “Just giving my medical opinion.”

The guard mutters something under his breath that makes her roll her eyes. “Can this one feed himself?”

“He hasn’t eaten anything yet,” she supplies as an answer. “So, we’ll find that out together.”

Without warning, they raise Dick’s gurney, and he’s left reeling in dizziness and nausea, but because of the restraints, he can’t curl forward to provide any relief. The guard grabs his hand a little tighter than necessary as he lengthens the restraint.

“Try to touch any of us or any of the medical supplies, and you’ll regret it, understand?” the guard asks, and Dick nods. The man grunts and shoves a spoon at Dick, then drops the tray in his lap. “Eat.”

Dick scoops up a bite of food and brings it to his mouth with a shaky hand. He swallows and takes a deep breath, trying to keep it down.

“You’re not finished,” the guard presses.

“Trying not to puke,” Dick grits out.

“Enough of the backtalk,” the guard shouts at him.

Dick doesn’t even look at him, just tries to take another bite. He drops the spoon when he feels the mush he swallowed rise in the back of his throat. He claps a hand over his mouth, trying to swallow it back down, and in his haste, he brushes against the nasal cannula.

“What did I tell you about touching the medical equipment?” the guard growls, grabbing Dick’s hand and slamming it back down against the gurney. He watches as the guard shortens the length of the restraint to even shorter than before, and he does the same on the other side, taking the opportunity to tighten them both around his wrists while he’s at it. He’d thought they were tight before, but now he thinks they’re going to risk cutting off his circulation.

He looks over at the doctors, who are standing in the opposite corner looking bored. He looks over at Bruce, who’s watching him with hidden panic as he keeps eating.

His guard has picked up the spoon and shoves it at Dick’s face with such force that it hit his teeth and he gags on it. He turns his head on reflex, spitting out the bits of food that managed to get in.

“Wrong move,” the guard snarls. He takes the tray and moves away from the gurney. He finds a lever and Dick is suddenly horizontal again. “He’s no cooperating.”

“And what do you want us to do about it?” the doctor asks, glancing at her nails.

“Tube him. The boss won’t be happy if he starves to death, and I’m not dealing with any sort of hunger strike from the prisoners.”

“As always, we thank you for your astute observations and predictive abilities. You truly are keeping us all safe,” she drawls.

“Shut it and just get the job done.” The guard is clenching his fist, but she doesn’t seem the least bit concerned.

“Sure thing,” she says. She looks at her partner. “You put the kit on the cart, right?”

“Right here,” he says, holding it up.

Dick furrows his eyebrows—how did they know they’d need it?

The guard leans over him. “You’re here for a minimum of two weeks, and after what you did to my brother Tommy, I’m going to make it as hellish as possible.”

Dick is about to ask who exactly Tommy is, but he’s sure whatever happened was justified. After all, Nightwing does sort of have a thing for dealing with criminals and protecting innocents.

“If you could step away from my patient, I’d love to get started,” the doctor interrupts.

“All yours,” the guard says taking a step back.

Dick glances at Bruce. He’s finished his meal and is back in his regular restraint position, watching Dick like a hawk. Bruce’s guards are outside the cells and watching Dick.

“Pass me the Xylocaine,” the doctor says as she slowly raises Dick’s gurney upright again.

He’s had NG tubes placed before—not exactly something he wants to have happen again, especially for no reason whatsoever. If the guard wasn’t standing there, maybe Dick would have tried to talk the doctors out of it, but it’s too dangerous. For himself, sure, but also for Bruce. They had no problem using him against Bruce earlier, so he doesn’t see why the reverse wouldn’t also be true.

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” the guard says.

The doctor closes her eyes and takes a breath, then turns to the guard. “I know you have fun with this sort of thing.” He grins, malicious. “But I promise, this will be uncomfortable enough with the Xylocaine.”

“But it’s not necessary, is it?” the guard asks.

“No,” both doctors reply begrudgingly.

“So why pump more drugs into the kid? You’ll ruin his worth like that. Nobody wants a junky,” the guard reasons.

The doctor closes her eyes and takes another breath, no doubt holding her tongue with all of her willpower. “Fine. Since I guess you call the medical shots around here now.”

“Sure as hell I do.”

“Nightwing, you’re going to need to work with me on this or you could hurt yourself, okay?” her eyes are a little pleading, and Dick wonders what will happen to her if something goes wrong. He nods and she looks a little relieved. “I’m going to measure out the tubing and then thread it down. You’ll need to swallow some water when I ask you to, and you’ll need to tell me if it hurts too much, understand?”

He nods again and tries to stay still as she places the tubing at the tip of his nose and pulls it back across his cheek, measuring it out. This isn’t going to be fun for anyone—well, anyone other than that fucked up guard.

oOo

Dick thinks he’s dying. He’s lying on his back, desperate to be able to do so much as roll on his side. The tube is making his throat hurt more and his nose burns. His cheek is itchy where the tube is taped in place and he can’t adjust it at all. He’s nauseous and his stomach has been cramping since the feed started. The male doctor had turned it off early when Dick almost puked because they were afraid the tube would come up. Again.

Because of Dick’s gagging, it took three tries to get the tube in in the first place. There’s no doubt in his mind that it would have been easier with some Xylocaine, but he hadn’t been allowed that, and now they’ve stopped his regular painkillers too. He isn’t even 48-hours out of surgery and he has nothing to help with the broken ribs, punctured lung, head wound, and two bullet wounds. And that’s just what Dick knows; there could be other internal injuries they repaired that he’s not even aware of. Maybe there’s something wrong with his stomach and that’s why the nausea has been so bad. No one’s telling him anything and he just wants to go home.

“Nightwing?” Bruce calls.

“I don’t feel good, B.”

“I know,” Bruce says. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

There’s a pause that says Bruce thinks this is his fault, but Dick can’t give a reassuring talk right now. Talking hurts too much.

“What did the guard say to you?” Bruce asks. “Before, when you were eating.”

Dick squeezes his eyes shut as a wave of pain courses through him. “Uh, he wants revenge. I put Tommy—his brother—away or something,” Dick says, trying to press his temple into the pillow as best he can. His head and neck are killing him. He wishes they would turn the lights off.

“Hnn. Did he sound or look family?” Bruce asks.

Dick shakes his head, and a moan leaks out.

“What’s wrong?” Bruce asks, like he can do something.

“Just hurts,” Dick explains with a croak. “No painkillers.”

“Those bastards,” Bruce growls.

“Said.” Dick swallows around the tube. “Said I’d be here for at least two weeks.”

“Hnn. That’s interesting,” Bruce says. “That must be when the auction is.”

“Confirmation?” Dick asks, trying to speak as little as possible.

“I overheard the guards talking. They said enough to imply,” Bruce says.

“Got a plan?” Dick asks, because Bruce always has a plan. Dick is supposed to always have a plan, and usually, he does, but the best plan he has right now is to let someone else get him out of this mess.

“Working on it,” Bruce says, which is the exact opposite of reassuring. “For now, we need to be patient.”

“Easy for you to say,” Dick mumbles. Bruce still hears him though; his flinch is enough to tell Dick that much. Dick rolls his head to stare at the ceiling.

“Is there anything I can do?” Bruce asks after a while.

Dick figures he’s offering to talk to him, and maybe Dick would take him up on it, but his head hurts too much. “I’m tired.”

“Sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

The last thing Dick thinks before slipping back into the blessing that is unconsciousness is how hollow Bruce’s words are, how the man has no say in where he will be when Dick wakes up.

oOo

The sleep doesn’t last, but the nausea has finally let up. The pain gets worse, though, and it pulls him from his slumber. Dick just wants to be able to curl up, but he can’t. He’ll just have to deal and try to tap into some of his pain management strategies.

(The problem is, Dick can’t think like this. He’s tired and in pain and can’t focus long enough to have anything work. He needs help.)

Bruce dozed off at some point, but he wakes up when Dick calls him.

“What is it, chum?” Bruce asks, urgent and attentive.

“Can you,” Dick starts, pausing to swallow and lick his lips. His voice must be barely audible at this point, just a croak. “Can’t think. Guided imagery?”

“Of course,” Bruce says, sitting up a little straighter. “How bad is the pain?”

Dick just nods.

“Oh sweetheart,” Bruce says, and Dick thinks Bruce is going for a record, calling him that so often since being captured. He wonders why Bruce isn’t concerned about keeping up the tough Batman front; maybe Dick really looks that bad.

“Please?”

“Close your eyes and take a few deep breaths.” Dick does as he’s told, listening as Bruce takes a deep breath with him. “Imagine you’re walking through the woods . . .”

oOo

Bruce is still talking to Dick in a calm voice—telling him to hear the crunch of a branch under his foot, feel the wind running through his hair—when the guards come in with the two doctors. Bruce stops speaking and Dick takes a deep breath. The guided imagery had been helping a little, and with Bruce’s voice grounding him, he’d been able to follow along for most of it. He thought he was about to fall asleep, but now the woods are gone and who knows what tortures await him now.

The guards hand Bruce a tray of food, and he starts eating without protest.

“How are you feeling this morning, Nightwing?” the doctor asks, pulling on her mask and gloves.

Dick doesn’t answer, just focuses on Bruce.

“Alrighty then, no pleasantries today I see,” she says. “We’re going to do a quick exam, and if you’re a good boy, we’ll give you a sedative and take you on a little trip, sound like a plan?”

Dick furrows his eyebrows and frowns—what?

“Relax. I can’t tell you what’s happening until we’re done—company policy—but trust me, this is a good thing. Plus, a sedative will do you some good,” she says. “I’m guessing you didn’t get much sleep last night? What with the painkiller ban and all.”

He blinks at her, still not wanting to talk.

She shrugs and starts checking Dick’s wounds. The male doctor is there too, yawning behind his mask as he changes out the bags hanging off the gurney—all of which have varying amounts of red in them, something that makes Dick’s eyes go wide. No one comments on it when he points it out, just shrugs. Great.

The doctor finishes changing his bandages and gauze, cleaning some of the wounds as she goes. The male doctor jots down his vitals and checks out his various tubes. It’s still uncomfortable, but knowing that the doctors aren’t going to hurt him offers him some reassurance.

The male doctor checks Dick’s feeding tube, grimacing with his eyes at the sight of Dick’s throat. “I suppose we should be grateful he let us use the lubricant.”

“Don’t say that,” the doctor hisses.

“What? He’s not even here,” he says, taking the penlight away from Dick’s mouth. Dick glances over at the guards, but it does no good; he can’t tell them apart.

The doctor must finish, because Dick’s gown and blanket are fixed and his gurney is being raised.

The doctor runs him through a quick neuro exam and she seems satisfied. She goes back to her tray and fills a syringe, no doubt with the promised sedative. She walks back to him and injects the liquid through his IV. It’s cold, and it makes him feel tingly within seconds.

“How’s the swelling on his neck?” the doctor asks as Dick feels himself fading.

Dick blinks, looking at the male doctor to try to figure out what’s wrong with his neck. “A little worse than yesterday.”

“What was his temperature?” the doctor asks.

Dick blinks hard, trying to stay awake, to get the information that’s rightfully his, but he can’t. He sleeps.

oOo

Dick wakes up still in his cage, which doesn’t make sense. He looks around, but it’s the same room, and Bruce is still in the cell next to him. His nausea is back too—god he hates sedatives.

“What happened?” Dick asks, and Bruce snaps his head to look over at him.

“You’re awake,” Bruce says, a little sad. Dick’s a little sad about it too, to be honest; recovering from surgery without any painkillers and unable to move isn’t exactly fun. “I don’t know where they took you, but I think it was for another CT scan.”

“Why’d they sedate me?” Dick asks. It still hurts to talk, but it’s getting better. A little.

“They probably didn’t want you to be able to figure out where they were going,” Bruce explains, and Dick hums in agreement.

“My head okay?” Dick asks.

“They wouldn’t talk to me, but they brought you back without any new bandages,” Bruce tells him, and Dick hums again. “Still tired?” Bruce asks.

Dick nods a little, breathing deeply from another wave of nausea. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Bruce grunts. “Worried about you. They said you have a fever.”

That might explain part of why he’s feeling so shitty, and fuzzy. “Yeah?”

“They were worried about your neck.”

That night in the rain—the man injected him with the needle after he placed it on the ground, in the gravel. “One of the goons that grabbed us doesn’t know anything about keeping needles clean.” He wonders, idly, if the needle had been used.

Bruce growls, literally growls. Dick almost laughs, but the tube shoved down his nose keeps him from it.

“There was a lot of blood in those bags,” Dick muses, thinking back to this morning. He wonders how long he’s been out, he wonders if Bruce kept track.

“I know, sweetheart,” Bruce tells him gently; Dick adds another “sweetheart” to his count. “From what I can see, there’s less now. You’re not getting worse.”

“Except for the fever,” Dick says.

“Except for the fever.”

oOo

Somehow, Dick is able to fall asleep again. He wakes to the sounds of people murmuring around him, something that never fails to spark panic in his chest. He’s shivering, he notices; someone’s taken his blanket, but his gown is still in the right place.

He opens his eyes to find the two doctors and several guards.

“He needs medicine,” the doctor is instating. “He could die.”

“It’s a fever,” the guard says. He meets Dick’s eyes, “Look, he’s even awake. He’s fine.”

Dick doesn’t think that’s true; he’s feeling worse than he did last time. He rolls his head to look at Bruce, he looks back at him and mouths something Dick can’t make out. He wonders if he should add another “sweetheart” to his count, just to be safe. What was his count again? How long have they been here, and where is here?

“Where?” Dick croaks, and his throat hurts and his voice doesn’t sound like his. He coughs, trying to clear it, but that makes his throat worse and sends pain crashing through his ribs, tugging at his side. He tries to move his hands, to hold his chest together, but he can’t move them. He can’t move! “B?”

“You’re alright, Nightwing. Focus.” Bruce is always telling him to focus, but focus on what?

“Don’t talk to him,” the guard spits.

“Will you let me run a blood test?” the doctor asks. “Then when those come back with infection written in bold, we can give him antibiotics. No painkillers, just antibiotics and an ice pack for the fever, cross my heart.”

“It’s probably just a cold, he doesn’t need medicine,” the guard insists. “And if it’s not a cold, whoever buys him can decide what to do with him and his medical care.”

“No one will want him like this,” she presses. “And last I checked, you were supposed to get approval for what I asked for, not take those decisions into your hands and—”

There’s a hand around her throat, and Dick tries to leap up to help, but he’s stuck—he’s stuck, he’s stuck, he’s stuck!

There’s beeping, and someone is telling him to take a breath, and someone is telling them to shut up and it’s too much and Dick can’t think, he can’t—

Dick’s finger twitches, brushing across a button. He remembers someone telling him to press it, and that someone would come. He presses it once, twice, three times. A louder beeping goes off, a different octave. It’s an alarm.

The woman reappears, the alarm stops, the monitors keep going. “What is it? What happened?”

“Need help,” Dick grits out, and that’s the last thing he remembers.

oOo

“Check on Nightwing first.”

Dick pulls his eyes open at the sound of his name, and when he looks toward the doorway, he sees not the doctors he’s half-expecting, but Robin and Spoiler—the rescue team has finally arrived.

With a click, Tim cuts off the lock and the two of them run to his side.

“Are you alright?” Tim asks him as he and Stephanie work on getting off his restraints. Bruce is cutting his own restraints with a weapon someone must have given him.

“Fantastic now that you guys are here. Get this stuff off me, yeah?” Dick asks, sitting up as soon as the restraints are gone.

“I don’t . . .” Tim trails off, looking up at Batman when he joins them.

“Spoiler, turn off the monitors,” Batman commands, receiving a dutiful nod. She’s oddly quiet and her movements are stiff, Dick notes.

Dick moves to pull the IV out of his hand, but Bruce stops him.

“Let me. Lie down and relax.”

“I’m fine,” Dick protests, but he knows he’s not; sitting up is sending a shooting pain to his chest and stomach, but he’s too stubborn to listen to them.

Bruce ignores him but takes out the IV, then lets Dick take off the blood pressure cuff and sticky pads for the heart monitor. Steph and Tim watch as Bruce and Dick remove most of the medical equipment, leaving in the tubes and catheters in until they can get the proper supplies.

“Lie down,” Bruce tells him, again.

“I can walk,” Dick says.

Bruce gives him a hard stare, forcing Dick back down by sheer will.

“Oracle?” Bruce asks, pressing the new comm Tim must have given him. Bruce nods in a way that tells Dick that Babs gave him good news. “Let’s move.”

Dick drapes an arm over his eyes and takes a deep breath as he’s rolled out of the room at what he’s sure is a sprint. Tim grabs his hand, squeezing it once to reassure him before letting go again. The past few days have been a nightmare, but it’s almost over; he’s going home.

oOo

Alfred freaked out as much as he’s capable of when he first saw Dick, all wide eyes and sharp inhales followed by frowns and tisking. Dick’s chest had a looked particularly bad, covered in bruises from where he’d been kicked repeatedly and with enough force to do more than bruise. The doctors, though, had done a good job. After countless scans, Alfred confirmed that they’d managed to repair one of his kidneys, which was likely damaged by one of the bullets, and a punctured lung. All of his organs were still in place and Alfred didn’t have to perform any additional surgery.

He did, however, remove the chest tube, feeding tube, and catheters.

Alfred wanted to keep him on an IV for painkillers, fluids, and antibiotics. The antibiotics, weren’t for the injection site, to Dick’s surprise. While it had been red and swollen, it wasn’t that bad by the time he’d arrived at the cave; their bigger problem was the fact that Dick had developed pneumonia, probably because he’d been immobilized, kept in poor conditions, and had broken ribs paired with a punctured lung. Despite his condition, Dick had convinced Alfred not to put him on an IV, citing that he’d had too many wires and tubes for his taste. They both had a sense that Dick would be fighting IVs for quite a while.

Dick mostly stayed in his bed for the first few days, too knocked out by drugs and fever to do much of anything else. By the fourth day, he was up and shuffling around the manor, gearing up to convince Alfred to let him go home and recover there. It was weird, being in the manor. It gave him a hard to describe feeling, one that made him almost itchy.

He figured, though, that his argument wouldn’t be very effective if Dick looked as tired as he felt. He’d had a hard time sleeping last night and one glance in the mirror told him it showed; taking a quick power nap on the couch while he waited to run into Alfred would be for the best.

Bruce, however, felt that it was up to him to sabotage Dick’s perfectly good plan by waking him up.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize you were asleep,” Bruce says when Dick sits up on the couch with a yawn. He’s wearing a suit; Bruce must just be getting home from work, then, meaning Dick slept longer than he’d intended to.

“It’s fine,” Dick mumbles, stifling another yawn. “Did you need something?”

Bruce shakes his head. “You weren’t in your room. I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“Oh. I’m feeling a little better and just wanted a change of scenery,” Dick explains. “I actually think I’m healed enough to get out of your hair, so.” Dick ends with a shrug.

“And you think that’s a good idea.”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be? I feel fine,” Dick says.

“You have pneumonia and are recovering from two GSWs.”

Dick scoffs, rolls his eyes. “I’ve dealt with worse on my own.”

“Hnn.” Bruce tightens his stare, but it’s not angry. Concerned, maybe. Worried. “I’m sure Alfred agrees that you should stay here until you’re fully healed.”

Dick blinks at him, wondering where this is coming from. Dick had kind of gotten the sense that, if anything, Bruce had been avoiding him. But now, it almost sounds like Bruce wants him around. Bruce had obviously and understandably been worried when Dick was first hurt, but he’s in the clear now; Bruce should be back to normal.

“This is the first time we’ve really seen each other in a month,” Dick muses, unable to think of another time they had been around each other more for than an hour outside of masks.

A beat passes, a pause that lasts a moment too long. “Yes. What’s your point?”

Dick sighs, pushes his hair back. “We weren’t even planning on seeing each other last week, it was just by chance.”

Bruce nods.

“So, if you had no problem avoiding me for a month—a whole month, Bruce—why do you care now?” Dick asks, and he really hopes there’s an answer out there. “I’ve been sick and injured on my own before. There were plenty of times when you knew I was sick or injured, and Alfred called, but you didn’t.”

“I thought you wanted space,” Bruce supplies.

“Bullshit,” Dick snaps. “What kid doesn’t want their”—Dick cuts himself off, not knowing what he’s going to say, not wanting to say it. “When have I not wanted you around when I’ve been hurt?”

“You have asked me to leave on several occasions,” Bruce says.

Dick presses his palms into his eyes. “Why are you so difficult?”

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” Bruce says. “It seems like you’re angry with me no matter what I do. If you ask me to go, you’re mad that I didn’t stay, but now I’m asking you to stay, and you’re arguing with me. What do you want?”

“I don’t know,” Dick whines. He wants Bruce around, but sometimes it feels like the Bruce he wants isn’t around anymore, or maybe never was. It’s hard, looking at a parental figure without the rose-tinted glasses childhood hides them behind. Now he looks at Bruce and he’s reminded of all the hurt and shortcomings that came with his upbringing; he looks at Bruce and he’s angry for everything that wasn’t and isn’t.

“Neither do I,” Bruce tells him. “Sometimes it feels like you want nothing to do with me.”

Dick wants to scream, tell Bruce that there’s a fucking reason why Dick doesn’t want anything to do with him, with certain sides of him. He wants to tell him that, yeah, maybe both of them are at fault for the way things are between them, but he was the child—just a dumb, angry teenager—and it shouldn’t be his job to make things right and ignore all the things Bruce has done to him, or hasn’t done. He wants to take the venom on his tongue and tell Bruce all the ways he fucked up and demand apology after apology and make Bruce feel like shit.

(In this moment, all of that feels like an absolute truth, a certainty. But given time, it will falter; Bruce’s flaws won’t seem so extreme and the hurt Dick feels won’t run as deep.)

Instead, he says, “That’s not true.” This is another truth—albeit one that doesn’t always feel absolute and constant, but a truth nonetheless.

“Then why did you stop coming to the manor?” Bruce asks.

It’s a fair question with a complicated answer that Dick doesn’t think he has. It’s more complicated than saying “you replaced me with another kid” because that isn’t where it started, and deep-down Dick knows that isn’t completely true. It’s more complicated than saying “you never ask me to come home” because Bruce might be asking, probably has been, but Bruce doesn’t use words for those kinds of requests and Dick is too tired, too done, to translate Bruce-speak. It’s more complicated than saying “I don’t know what I’m doing and I can’t be around people who know that I don’t know what I’m doing” because then it wouldn’t just be Bruce he’s avoiding.

He finds himself voicing a watered-down version of the truth: “It doesn’t feel like home anymore.”

“Hnn.” Bruce takes a seat on the couch, and Dick moves his feet to accommodate him. After a moment of silent debate, Dick leans his head against Bruce’s should, and Bruce tucks him underneath his chin, just like he used to do when Dick still lived here. “Things have changed,” Bruce says simply.

“Yeah.” And Dick can’t pinpoint where exactly the change started, where the tipping point was, and what role Dick played in tipping it.

“I’ve missed you.”

For a second, Dick is wearing the rose-tinted glasses again, but only for that second. “I’ll stay,” Dick agrees.

Bruce presses a kiss into his hairline, and Dick feels at home, if only for a second.

“I don’t want to go another month without seeing you,” Dick continues. “We need to start making an effort.” That’s what it means to be an adult, right?

Bruce nods, humming in agreement. “I’m sorry I stopped, that I . . . pushed you away.”

Dick sighs, not feeling up to the conversation boiling in that sentence. He presses himself into Bruce a little harder despite his aching ribs. Bruce runs his fingers through Dick’s hair, and Dick closes his eyes, breathing slowing.

In that moment, Dick feels like everything will be alright. He knows that the rose-tinted glasses will eventually fall away and shatter, but when they do, he hopes that things will still look brighter than they did before he put them on, even if he knows they won’t be as bright without them. He doesn’t need a childish fantasy of a perfect father figure, but he does need Bruce, and with a little effort, he hopes that it will be more than enough.  

[k-llama-llama]

Cured

TXT AU: 6th member

Sara x TXT

Sara finally sees a doctor about her illness.

A/N: Please check out my PATREON (patreon.com/kllamallama) for exclusive posts you can’t get anywhere else, as well as lots of other cool benefits!

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Masterlist and other Follow Me links in bio!

“Chung Soo-ji?” 

“Here.” Sara lifted her hand to get the nurse’s attention.

“We have the results of your tests, if you’ll come this way.”

Sara stood carefully, focusing on not stumbling as she followed the nurse back into the clinic. Usually she’d account her unsteadiness to whatever was wrong with her, but right now she was pretty sure it was just nerves.

She’d been at the hospital for almost three hours. Thanks to Bighit, her blood tests and everything else had been rushed, so she didn’t need to wait as long as normal.

The doctor was sitting at his desk, staring at the screen when she walked in. He gestured to the seat across from him, where a couple of hours earlier Sara had sat and described how she was feeling.

“You got the tests back?” Sara asked nervously.

“We did, and it’s what I originally thought.” The doctor began. “Based off the symptoms you described, I was pretty sure that we were looking at a severe case of anemia.”

“Anemia? What’s that?” Sara felt her heart drop.

“It’s fairly common, though I’d say you have a severe case.” The doctor clasped his hands together as he explained. “Essentially, you don’t produce enough red blood cells, so you get very tired and fatigue easily.”

“That...makes sense.” Sara nodded. “So how do we fix it.”

The doctor offered her a sympathetic smile. “It’s a manageable condition, but not curable. We can certainly find solutions to help you deal with it.”

“But it’s keeping me from performing at my best.” Sara protested. “We need to make it stop.”

“As I said, we can help you manage it. But it won’t go away.” The doctor tried to reassure her. “It’s good that we’ve diagnosed it, Soo-ji. It means you’ll know how to manage it, and your company will know how to help you.”

Sara swallowed. He was right, at least she had a name for it now. “So how do we manage it?”

“There’s lots of different ways, and it’s just going to be a matter of figuring out what works best for you.” The doctor explained. “But, if you’re alright with it, I’d like to start today.”

“Today?”

“You indicated that you weren’t feeling your best earlier, so I’d like to do a vitamin IV drip just to see if that effects your energy levels at all.”

“An IV.” She really hated needles. “Um...if you think it will help.”

“It’s worth a try.” The doctor nodded.

“Can I call someone?” She asked. “To pick me up when it’s over.”

“Sure, our nurse will get you set up and then you can call whoever you need.”

“Right.” Sara nodded, before standing. She held out her hand in a handshake. “Thank you for everything.”

“I’m sure we can figure this out together, Soo-ji.”

Sara followed the nurse through the clinic into an area where lots of hospital beds were set up. They were all separated by curtains, and another nurse was already wheeling an IV pole over with a bag hanging from it.

“Lay down right here.” The nurse instructed.

Sara took her shoes off and hopped up on the bed. The nurse took her arm, exposed because of her tshirt, and wrapped something around her upper arm.

“To find a vein.” The nurse explained. “You have your phone and everything?”

“Yeah, umm....” She shifted nervously on the bed. “If I call someone can the come in?”

“Of course, we’ll bring a chair over for them. This whole thing should take a little over an hour, because they’re going to want you to wait about fifteen minutes after to make sure you feel alright.”

“Okay.”

“Do you want a count down or for me to just do it?”

“Just do it please.”

Barely a breath passed before she felt the telltale pinch in her arm.

“All done.” The nurse said with a smile. “Hang tight, okay? We’ll be in to check on you.”

“Thank you.” Sara said weakly, trying to ignore the cold feeling seeping through her arm.

Once the nurse tugged the curtain closed, she lifted her phone up with her free arm and quickly dialled Yeonjun’s number.

“Are you finished?” He answered on the first ring.

“What’s she saying?” She heard Soobin’s voice.

“She hasn’t said anything yet. Soo-ji?”

Sara couldn’t help but smile. “They think they figured out what it is, so right now I’m doing an IV to-”

“An IV? What for?”

“Vitamins, I think.” She answered. “But can you guys come and pick me up? If you get here before I’m done they’ll let you come up.”

“Ummm...what if we’re there in ten minutes?” Yeonjun sounded nervous.

“What? It takes at least a half hour to get here.”

‘Yes...but if we’re hypothetically already in the hospital food court?”

Sara groaned. “You guys followed me?”

“We thought you might need something!” Soobin’s voice came through the phone. “We’ll be right up to see you.”

“I’m in the-”

“I know, I checked your email.” Yeonjun hung up the phone.

Sara rolled her eyes, but set her phone down by her side and tried her best to relax. She could hear the nurses walking back and forth, and hushed voices as other patients were moved in and out.

“We’re here for Soo-ji!” Soobin announced loudly.

Sara closed her eyes and sighed.

“Soo-ji!” Yeonjun exclaimed as he flung open the curtain. “Woah, what’s that?”

“Quiet down, idiot.” She hushed them. “Where’s Soobin?”

“I’ve got another chair.” Soobin carried one in. “Woah, what is that stuff?”

“Vitamins.” Sara answered. “I can’t believe you guys followed me.”

“We just wanted to be here, just in case.” Yeonjun hopped up on Sara’s bed. “So, what did they say is wrong with you.”

“The doctor said it’s something called anemia.” 

“Isn’t that like a blood thing?” Soobin asked, sitting down on his chair.

“Yeah, something with my red blood cells, or not having enough or something. But he said it’s pretty common and explains why I’m so tired and lightheaded all of the time.”

“If it’s common, that’s good right?” Yeonjun patted her leg hopefully. “It means they’ll be able to give you medicine or whatever to fix it.”

“The doctor said they can’t fix it.” Sara said quietly.

“What?” Soobin breathed. “What do you mean they can’t fix it? You’re sick all of them time? Are you just supposed to live your life feeling like crap?”

“He said that some stuff can make it better.” She explained. “Like this vitamin thing. And he was going to write the company about tablets and diet changes.”

“So you will start to feel better?” Yeonjun asked.

Sara gave a tiny shrug, fearful of moving her arm. “Hopefully.”

Soobin sighed, leaning back into his chair. “Well, at least that’s something. We can help you through this, right?”

“Of course we can.” Yeonjun insisted. “Just feed you lots and make sure you’re careful.”

Sara smiled. “I’m sure that’s all it will take.”

There was a long moment of silence.

“How long does that take, anyways?” Soobin stared at the IV bag.

“An hour, I think.” Sara answered.

“Could you drink it and make it go faster?” He asked. “They had a pasta place in the food court and I really want to-”

“Dude, she’s literally dying.” Yeonjun cut him off.

“Okay, no I’m not.” Sara kicked him off of the bed. “Keep me company, and then we can go get pasta.”

“You’ll pay?” Yeonjun asked her, standing from the ground.

“As if, you’re paying.” Sara pointed at him. “I’m sick.”

“You can’t play that card all of the time.” He protested.

“Sure I can.” Sara grinned at him. “Because you’re doing the dishes tonight too.”

[alifeincoffeespoons]

part vii of the avatar au: a waterbending lesson and prince sirius

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi

James doesn’t want to admit it, but now that he’s visited the Spirit World and Avatar Dumbledore’s told him of his quest—mastering waterbending and firebending in less than a year to save the entire world from the Fire Lord—he feels kind of out of his element.

Ha. Element.

But it’s weird, knowing that it’s up to basically him and Lily to save the world. It sounds like one of those myths his parents told him as a kid when he thought he could do anything, but now it’s real life. It’s less fun than he thought it would be. 

Especially since he still doesn’t really have a clue how to waterbend. Lily’s been teaching him the basics, but her waterbending style isn’t particularly traditional—it’s almost as though she’s moving the water with sheer power, short bursts of strength that are more reminiscent of firebending than anything else—and though it works for her, James can’t mimic it, no matter how hard he tries to. To be honest, it’s kind of disheartening, since he managed to pick up airbending in less than a month, and waterbending just isn’t coming to him at all. 

So when they dock in a town and come across some dubiously ethical merchants selling a waterbending scroll, well, can you really blame James for sneaking the scroll out of the ship? It’s not really stealing, anyway—after all, it wasn’t like the scroll belonged to the merchant-pirates in the first place. He rolls his eyes at Lily’s lecture after she finds out what he’s done.

“Look, Lily, I have to learn somehow,” he says. “Besides, we’ve still got some time before we reach the North Pole—you can learn from the scroll too!” He knows how much Lily’s been dying to explore more advanced waterbending techniques, but she just huffs.

“Pirates have no allegiance to anyone, and they’re ruthless too,” she says. “If anyone spotted you, we’re just in even more danger.”

“No one spotted me, Lily, don’t worry,” he says, grinning. “I can be sneaky!”

And then, two hours later, when it’s nearing sundown and he’s waterbending in a stream—and okay, he finally understands why Lily’s methods didn’t work for him, because she wasn’t working from any existing techniques at all and managed to basically create her own methods of waterbending, which, wow—he finds himself unceremoniously surrounded by the pirates and a Fire Nation Admiral. Whoops.

“You see,” the Admiral crows, seven long hours later, “I knew that you, like everyone else, had to have a fatal flaw. I’ve been waiting for you to give up your guard, and now, I’ve found it. Your hubris and arrogance shall be the ruin of you in the end.”

“Okay, the monologue’s getting a little old,” James says, because this guy’s given this same monologue in three different ways already, and being chained to a pole in the middle of the town square isn’t really comfortable at all. 

The Admiral sneers. “The last thing anyone will ever hear you say is my name, Avatar. I am Admiral Malfoy, and you will obey my orders. You see, when I bring you back to the Fire Lord, you’ll be in your own room forever, at the top of a tower. No one will hear you scream—it will be soundproofed, of course. And I—I will be renowned throughout the lands—”

“Seriously, can you get on with it?” He has a feeling that taunting a group of armed pirates and an admiral isn’t the best idea, but oh well. There’s earth everywhere—if he can just get his hands out of this chain—

“Lily!” he cries. Seeing her run through the alleyway, he could almost cry with relief. Mere moments later, the pirates and the admiral are being thrown back by a huge wave of water gushing from a fountain, and Lily’s running towards him, slicing cleanly through the chains with a sword.

“You’re an idiot,” she says, sighing. “What made you think it was a good idea to waterbend in the middle of the night?”

James shrugs. “Does it really matter now? What’s done is done, right?” He looks at her hopefully, and Lily rolls her eyes. 

“We’ve got to find a way to get out of here,” she says. “Now come on, help me out.”

He nods, and they step forward, back-to-back. He sinks three of the pirates, who are scrambling to their feet, into the ground, trapping them in the hard earth, while Lily freezes four more with the water from the fountain. They manage to subdue a good third of the pirates, but—there’s just so many of them, and Malfoy, the infuriating asshole he is, is unfairly good at firebending. They’re outnumbered, and James searches for an escape route, anywhere they can go—

And then, because this day still isn’t exciting enough, Prince Sirius shows up.

It’s the first time he’s ever seen the prince in person and not on a poster. His hair looks different—in the posters, it was up in a high, thin ponytail, the traditional hairstyle of the Fire Nation, but now, it hangs loosely down to his shoulders in one dark mass. And there’s the scar, on the left side of his face. James gulps, and by his side, he can feel Lily freeze up as well. Honestly, they’ve been lucky so far—none of the pirates are benders, as far as he can tell, and even with Malfoy’s power, at least he’s just one person. With another firebender on Malfoy’s side, though—well, he and Lily are, in short, screwed.

But then the extraordinary thing happens. Though Sirius sends a blast of fire towards them, instead of the fireball hitting James or Lily, it almost catches Malfoy in the face instead. It could just be an accident, but there’s almost something deliberate about it. 

For a moment, James catches the prince’s eyes, and the look on his face is clear—get out of here.

“Maybe he thinks Malfoy’s the Avatar?” James whispers too loudly. Even more than twenty meters away, he can see the obvious disgust in the prince’s eyes, and okay, it was just a theory, you know? 

“We can’t trust him,” Lily says into his ear. “Don’t listen to anything he says—he’s the Fire Prince. He’s not here to help us.”

Sirius envelopes the still-standing pirates with a wall of blazing fire, and James looks at Lily dubiously. “It sure doesn’t look like he’s trying to hurt us.”

“James, no matter what, we still need to get out of here. Do you have the whistle?” 

James nods, and he quickly pulls the whistle shaped like a flying bison out of his pocket and blows into it. Thankfully, just a moment later, Prongs is touching down, knocking over five more pirates in the process. James beams. 

They scramble on top of Prongs, and James looks at Sirius, who’s holding off three pirates at once. “Do you think—”

“Prongs, yip yip!” Lily shouts, and they’re up in the air. “James, I don’t know what Prince Sirius was doing, but like I said, he’s not trying to help us. Most likely, he just wants the credit for capturing you himself and doesn’t trust the pirates. Or maybe he just has terrible aim. If he’s on anyone’s side, it’s Malfoy’s, not ours.”

“But he—”

“No, James. He was handling it fine himself anyway. No pirate would risk hurting the son of the Fire Lord. He’ll get out fine, but we wouldn’t have.”

“Fine,” James sighs, dropping the topic. For some reason, though, he spends a good half of the next day hoping that Prince Sirius is fine.

part viii

[talesfromlissom]

Glory Of The Moon [Part II]

Summary: As the recall has been issued, new recruits start to flood into overwatch due to recommendations, from old and new allies. However, the newest recruit seems to have an interest in Hanzo, much to Jesse’s dislike. 

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV

“I…(Y/N)...”

“Jess’?”

Silence.

“I..I’m sorry.” (Y/N) began. “I...I’ve been an asshole, I...It’s alright if you don’t forgive me for a while.”

“No no, darlin’, I’d never do that to you,.” Jesse began. “and...I should probably try to get along with Dallas, even if I don’t like ‘em one bit.”

(Y/N) shook their head, cracking a small smile.

“Wanna hug?”

“...yeah.”

“Alright, c’mere you big baby.”

“Hold up now-”

Jesse had said before practically falling into (Y/N)’s embrace.

They planted a kiss on his forehead after brushing his bangs back.

“You...think we should go get Hanzo?”

“Mh, yeah.” 

As (Y/N) and Jesse broke apart, (Y/N) came to the door.

“Where do you think he could be?” They asked.

“Ima guess he’s in that little ‘ol garden that Genji and Zenyatta built, he won’t ever admit it, but I think it's his favorite place to meditate.” 

“Heh, I don’t see why not.” (Y/N) began as the door slid open. “That place is beautiful.”

                                       ──•~❉+❉~•──

As the two entered the zen garden, Jesse gaped.

“Wow, Genji and Zenyatta sure pay attention to details…” Jesse muttered.

However, a hand was placed on his chest.

(Y/N)’s hand.

“Why do I smell eastern wolves?” (Y/N) asked.

Jesse’s eyes widened as he stepped past them.

“Actually, yeah..but...Dallas isn’t a eastern, he’s a west-”

Jesse paused, seeing the water bottle on the floor.

He sniffed at it, and reared his head back.

“Why in god's name is there knock-out drugs in this thing? Ain’t this water?” Jesse then gasped as he turned the bottle.

“Shit! These are Dallas’ goddamn initials!” 

“What! Jesse don’t start this again-”

“No, look! D.F.S. Dallas whatever his middle name is Starmonger! See? I told you!”

(Y/N) snatched the bottle from Jesse’s hand and examined it.

“Crap, this is Dallas’ bottle!” (Y/N) cried.

“See? I told you!” 

“Shut up, Jesse, Hanzo could be seriously hurt!”

“Sorry but-how are we gonna find him, we’re gonna change any minute now!” A pause. “God, I’m already startin’ to ache!”

“Listen to me, Jesse,” (Y/N) said, placing their hands on his shoulder. “We have to find Hanzo, werewolf form or not. I can hold off my form long enough to save him, but only if you can transform, cooperate and track him down. I’ll follow you. Alright?” 

“A-alright.”

“I’ll grab your serape so in case you find Hanzo first he doesn’t freak out, alright? I’ll be right back.”

(Y/N) practically darted out of the room and locked the doors to the Zen garden, only to bump into Bridgette along the way.

“(Y/N)? Why-”

“Bridgette warn Winston! Dallas has taken Hanzo captive and I think he plans to hurt him, please tell him that Mcree and I are the only people that can be close to Dallas, but to arrange a backup team in case me and Mcree attack anyone, got it?”

“You got it! Should I tell Dr.Ziegler as well!”

“Yes! Now, go, go!” 

                                                ──•~❉+❉~•──

His vision was less blurry as he came to consciousness again. 

He blinked rapidly, and finally came to full vision.

That’s when he gasped.

He was not in the garden, he was sure he wasn’t even in Gibraltar.

“Heya boss, he’s wakin’ up.”

Hanzo shook his head.

He attempted to stand, only to find that his hands had been chained to a pole driven into the ground.

He could easily break out of these, he called upon his-

“Looking for these?” 

Hanzo looked upwards, only to spy his dragons in two square cages.

Kenji, always the more energetic and determined of the bunch, was bashing her head against the walls.

Tomo, less energetic, but still ever loyal, was biting at the cages bars.

“How did you-”

“They came out of your tattoo of course,” Dallas chuckled, as he came into full view. “While I was putting those chains on you, they tried to protect you, but since you did not call upon them, they were weak, so we easily put them in these...dragon proof cages.” 

Hanzo narrowed his gaze.

“What do you want with me?”

“Well for starters, I want you in general.”

Hanzo scoffed.

“Why?”

“You're smart, think Hanzo, what has your precious (Y/N) told you about Alpha werewolves?”

Hanzo narrowed his gaze even further.

“They wish to expand their packs, and they are the only ones capable of passing on the lycin curse.”

“Very good, so you do listen to (Y/N),” Dallas then pouted. “But you didn’t listen to poor Jesse, oh no.” 

There was a deep chuckle that came from Dallas, as well as more chuckling from his other pack members.

Hanzo took this chance to look around the room.

Around him stood all sorts of people.

People with scars, people in wheelchairs, some children as young as ten years old.

Men, women, people young and old.

“You see, my pack is more on the diverse side,” Dallas preached. “I don’t just bite anyone.” 

Hanzo watched as Dallas made his ways down the steps.

“I find people with powerful minds, not just brute force,” He began, as he made his way towards him, the other pack members stepped out of the way. “People that have been hurt, cast out, told they were nothing. Well,I made them something.” 

Dallas grinned. 

“That’s why I knew that I had to make you a member of my pack. But those other pathetic excuses for werewolves were almost always around you.” 

“You dare too-”

“Ah ah ah,” Dallas began, putting his hand over Hanzo’s mouth. “Let me finish, fledgling.”

Hanzo resisted the urge to spit in Dallas’ face. 

“So I found things out, I knew automatically (Y/N) was an alpha, and if they caught even a wind of me wanting to hurt you, then I’d be dead meat.” A pause. “So I turned to the beta instead. I knew that if I made your cute little Jesse dislike me, it would travel back to (Y/N), and they would fight.” 

He removed his hand from Hanzo’s mouth.

“I played all my cards right, and soon you were right where I wanted you,” Dallas chuckled. “I was surprised that you even believed half of the shit I said, and took a drink from me.”

Hanzo growled.

“You won’t gain anything from this.” Hanzo snapped. “Absolutely nothing.” 

“I have lots to gain from this, Hanzo.” Dallas replied. “Lots. I mean, a Shimada under my command. The infamous Doom fist would cower before me.”

“(Y/N) and Jesse will come for me, and put an end to your sickening games.” Hanzo said, struggling against his bonds. 

“Oh please, will they?” Dallas stated. “By the time they figure out where you are, they’ll already have turned.” Dallas then chuckled, sending a chill down Hanzo’s back. “And if I play my cards right, you will be as well.” 

“You think that I’d ever join you? Pathetic.” 

Dallas rolled his eyes.

“Oh Hanzo,” Dallas jeered, grasping Hanzo’s chin and pulling him close. “I never said I was giving you a choice.” 

                                                 ──•~❉+❉~•──

“Can someone tell me why it sounds like there’s a dog panting into your communicator?” Angela’s voice asked.

(Y/N) scoffed.

“Don’t call Jess’ a dog, that’s rude.” 

(Y/N) managed to say before they turned back to the (panting) and now transformed Jesse.

The thing about Jesse was that, unlike (Y/N), who turned into a Crinos werewolf type, like most alphas, Jesse was a hispo type. 

The problem was, the stronger the werewolf type, the less human you were.

Making (Y/N) the worst possible person to go on this rescue mission.

But (Y/N) was the only person powerful enough to take down Dallas.

And man, when (Y/N) saw him, they were going to beat the crap out of him. 

The two came to a halt as Jesse sniffed at the ground, and let out a large howl.

In which, (Y/N) grabbed his muzzle.

“Quiet! They’ll hear us!” They hissed as Jesse whined and pulled his head away.

(Y/N) turned, and spotted an old, clearly abandoned factory.

“Angela, I think we found them,” (Y/N) said. “It's at an old factory. Just north of the city.” 

“Alright, I’ll tell Winston to send a drop ship-”

“No. You have to send a small team for backup, make sure they all have silver bullets, or they won’t harm anyone in this pack. And only send them in when I tell you too.”

“But (Y/N)-”

“Please Angela, Hanzo’s...normal...life is at stake here.” 

Silence.

“Alright...I trust you.”

“Thank you, Agent (Y/N) signing off. 

With that, (Y/N) turned off their communicator.

“You think you can get close enough without anyone noticing?”

“Maybe.” Jesse replied, his voice coming out distorted.

Jesse didn’t speak much while in his werewolf form, mainly because of how his vocal cords were for wolves, not for humans. 

(Y/N) watched as Jesse crept down the hill and onto the broken road and towards the factory.

(Y/N) went to the ground, looking through the broken windows.

Strangely enough, there were no guards, and yet, there was plenty of cars. 

They must’ve used the cars to mask their scents. 

(Y/N) scoffed.

This Dallas guy was a foolish alpha, probably new to it, (Y/N) figured as they slid down the hill.

Crouched low to the ground, (Y/N) met up with Jesse and nodded at them, the sign of it being all clear.

Slowly the two came to the back door and pushed it open, with a creak.

(Y/N) tensed.

“Hopefully, nobody heard that.” They muttered to Jesse as the two walked down the hall.

Eventually, they both came to the actual factory section of the place.

It seemed that this factory hadn’t been used for years.

The perfect hideout, (Y/N) would’ve said, if they hadn’t spotted two guards at a door near the end of the hall.

However, the two guards then paused, and walked off.

The two steadily crept towards the door, and slowly pushed it open.

(Y/N)’s mouth dropped.

“I’ve...I’ve never seen so many werewolves before.” They muttered as Jesse let out a whine.

“Don’t worry, I can take them.” (Y/N) responded as they and Jesse crept behind a stack of barrels. 

(Y/N) slowly peaked their head above the barrels.

“There he is.” (Y/N) muttered, as they saw Hanzo in the middle of the mix. “But how are we gonna get to him?”

“The full moon won’t be covered by the clouds much longer.” Dallas began, peaking (Y/N)’s interest. “And soon, you’ll be one of us.”

(Y/N) almost growled and leap directly into the fray, but they kept their composure, for now.

“He wants to turn Hanzo.” Jesse muttered.

“Yeah, that’s why we need to get him out of there, fast.”

(Y/N) rolled over to the other set of crates, closer to-wait a second.

(Y/N) looked up, hearing a chirping noise.

They  had to cover your mouth to keep from gasping. 

(Y/N) spotted Kenji and Tomo in cages, hung on the ceiling. 

“Jesse, how did he-”

“However, we don’t want to interrupt the main event, do we?” 

Dallas grinned before snapping his fingers.

With that, the werewolves in the room scattered, filling out the room.

Soon, silence.

“I can smell you (Y/N), and Jesse’s scent is even stronger when he’s in his werewolf form.” 

(Y/N) scoffed before coming out behind the barrels.

“Let him go Dallas, and I won’t hurt you.”

“Hurt me?” Dallas smiled, putting his hand in his pocket. “You wouldn’t dare.”

(Y/N) widened their stance, and balled their hands into fists.

“Try me.” 

“Oh, well, I guess I’ll have to use this little guy.” With that, Dallas pulled the purple flower from his pocket holding it into the air.

With that, (Y/N) could see the sweat forming on Dallas’ face.

“S-see? Now we’re both in trouble.” Dallas mustered out stepping towards them.

(Y/N) only had caught a small whiff of that flower before sweat formed on your brow as well.

“Where-where did you...get...wolfs bane…?” (Y/N) panted, falling to their knees.

They  watched as Dallas managed to laugh at them, before falling onto his hands and knees as well.

“I’ve..got...friends…” 

Jesse looked up into the sky, and there it was, the full moon shining directly into the room.

“J-Jesse...get...get Hanzo out of here…” (Y/N) said, starting to breathe heavily. “Please…”

“But-”

“Now-!” (Y/N) growled, and yet their voice was so much deeper. 

Jesse ran over to Hanzo, pulling at the chains with his teeth and claws. 

“Jesse? Is that you?” Hanzo asked.

Jesse paused for a moment, then simply nodded his head. 

“Jesse, where are the others? Are they safe?” 

Another pause.

“Yes.” Jesse said, as the chains fell to the floor. 

“Hurry.” Jesse stated, as he pushed Hanzo out of the room.

However, two howls filled the room and the two men froze on the spot.

They recognized one, sure, but the other? 

Soon, multiple howls filled the air, too many for comfort.

“Go! They have a backup team waiting for us!” Jesse mustered out as the two rushed out the door. 

However, the two were met by wolves of all shapes and sizes in their way. 

“Right!” 

Jesse and Hanzo sprinted down the hall to the right, the large group of werewolves on their tail.

                                          ──•~❉+❉~•──

(Y/N) looked at them self in the small puddle on the floor.

(Y/N) hadn’t seen their reflection in a while.

They were still a large 7ft, Crinos werewolf.

Their fur was still the same color as their hair.

The necklaces Jesse and Hanzo gave them was still around their neck.

(Y/N)’s eyes were now a beady purple.

A growl filled their ears, as they turned to Dallas.

He was just like you, bright purple eyes, 7ft, except brown fur.

However, Dallas’ claws were much larger than yours.

But that made up for (Y/N)’s strength and strong bite.

Before (Y/N) even had time to think, Dallas tackled them to the ground, and (Y/N) knew that if Dallas managed to defeat them, not only would he turn Hanzo into a werewolf.

But he’d become the alpha of (Y/N)’s pack as well, which meant he’d keep Jesse and Hanzo away from you.

So, with that thought in mind, (Y/N) brought forth all their power to defeat this traitor.

                                               ──•~❉+❉~•──

“How long will it take for these things to catch up to us, Jesse?” 

A grunt was heard from Jesse, who ran alongside Hanzo. 

“Oh right, you’re a wolf, you can’t talk-”

“I can talk!” Jesse replied. “And for the record-”

“Door-!”

Jesse slammed face first into the door, letting out a yelp.

Hanzo grabbed Jesse by the serape and pulled him through the doorway. 

“How long are these hallways!” Jesse cried, still rubbing at his nose.

“In here! Quickly!” 

With that, the two dove into the small storage room and behind the boxes.

There was silence at first, however, the scratching of claws on the floor filled their ears, as well as the soon clicking of said claws on the tile floor. 

“Jesse,” Hanzo hissed. “What do we do?”

Jesse shook his head.

“Jesse?”

Again, more shaking and growling from Jesse.

“Jesse-”

That’s when Jesse began to howl. 

Soon, bone cracking and more howling and growling was filling Hanzo’s ears.

He heard the werewolves beginning to gather at the door, based on the amount of claws tapping on the tiles.

“Jesse, Jesse stop-! Jesse your drawing, attention too-! Jess-!”

That’s when the howling turned more humane sounding, and as Hanzo watched as the great beast before him shrunk down to a shivering, sweaty, and naked man. 

Gasps and sputters came from Jesse as Hanzo slowly reached a hand out.

“Is it...morning already?” Hanzo asked.

Jesse coughed.

“Ngh...no…” Jesse began. “If...If you call out a were...werewolves name...they...turn back into a...human.” 

Hanzo’s eyes widened.

“A...naked human I presume?”

“Yes, a butt-naked human.” Jesse paused. “God, I...I can’t transform...fuck...we’re screwed. We are so screwed.” 

He said, as the werewolves carefully approached the boxes the two men were hiding behind.

[quackeroos]

ONE WEEK || Day One

Pairing: tom holland x dying ex!reader

Summary: you were dying, and tom still loves you. now he plans on loving you ‘til your last breath, and maybe get you to say those three words back to him. 

Warnings: swearing, angst

Words: 1.9k

General Masterlist | Series Masterlist

TOM TOOK A SIP from his morning tea. His Spotify playlist playing in the background while he patiently waits for his toast. Because the moment his phone rang with a familiar name on the screen, his heart dropped. It couldn't be. Tom took off his glasses and wiped the lenses with his shirt. He was seeing it perfectly clear. Her name and picture lit up his screen. After all these years, why is she calling now? Tom was pulled back from his thoughts when his toaster popped. His hand quickly caught his phone before the final ring, and he answered immediately.

He lets out a shaky breath, "Hello?"

"Hello, Tom?" he lets out a sigh of relief. Relaxed. "It's Jamie."

"Oh, Jamie! How are you? And why are you calling by the way? With um-your sister's phone?" The other end of the line was silent for a moment. He could hear faint sobs coming from the teenager.

"Jamie? Are you alright? What happened?"

"T-tom... It's Y/n."

At the mention of her name, he became uneasy again. It's been so long since he heard that name. Too long. But when he heard her name with Jamie's worried tone, he knew. Something was wrong.

Tom got off his car and ran straight through the building. He didn't mind asking which room she was checked in; Jamie had already filled him in with the details. It was a stupid idea, going to a hospital and visiting your bedridden ex-girlfriend. But despite that thought, all Tom knew, that he had to see her again.

He stood outside the door. Room 243, written on the plaque. And just underneath it, was her name. He felt anxious, worried and excited all at the same time, and it was like a whirlwind hitting him. Tom lets out one last breath before knocking on the wooden door and opening it. He entered cautiously and closes the door slowly.

The room was white and a bit dim, with only little light coming from the windows and lamp. It smelled of disinfectant and coffee, yet the room was clean. At the other side, Jamie was binge watching on her laptop, with her earphones in her ears, she didn't notice Tom come in only until he showed himself.

She quickly stood up and walked towards the man, embracing him in a tight hug while staining his shirt with her leftover tears. Tom could tell Jamie hadn't slept all night and that she had been crying for hours. Her stained sweater and red eyes with bags under it screamed everything she was feeling right now. "I'm so glad you came, Tom. I'm sorry if I called you in a bad time." Jamie sniffed.

"No, don't be sorry. It's fine."

"I-it's just, I didn't know what to do and I don't know who to c-call. My finals are coming up and I have to watch-" before she could even finish her sentence, she cried again. Tom watched her let out her frustration before embracing her back into a hug. Jamie was the girl whom he had considered his sister, and seeing her break down like this, it was an unlikely scene Tom never imagined would happen.

The once happy-go-lucky twenty-year-old he knew had reached the lowest point of her life. He engulfed her into a tight hug, caressing her back for comfort. "Hey, I'm glad you called me for help. And don't worry, y/n will get through this." Jamie pulled back and sniffed, nodding in the process. "Do you want to come inside? She's sleeping, but I think she'll wake up at any moment."

Without a second thought, Tom accepted and walked beyond the pillared wall, the only thing separating y/n's bed from tiny living room. The moment he saw her lying on the bed, his heart sunk. An IV bag hung from the pole beside her bed, connecting it to the top of her hand, a needle sinking in through her veins. She looked so peaceful, and the thought of her being bedridden made him even more anxious. Y/n's soft snores were the only thing that could be heard within the four walls, and Tom smiled sadly, reminiscing the times she would sleep in his bed, cuddled up next to him. He missed it. Everything he had with her, he missed it.

"Friedreich's ataxia." Tom looked up at Jamie.

"It's a genetic disease that causes her difficulty in walking. A loss of sensation in the arms and legs and impaired speech. It worsens over time; I heard the doctors say." Her sister walks towards her bed and sits on the edge, careful not to wake her up.

"She was diagnosed with it three years ago, it only so happened that the disease kicked in." Three years ago. That was the year they had broken up. Tom didn't know the reason why, and it broke him on that day. And now that he knows, guilt washed over him. He felt guilty that he didn't noticed she had this, and that he didn't asked her to explain why she wanted to call it off. What kind of boyfriend was he?

If only he knew, then he would've taken care of her and helped her all this time. It was a heavy toll for Tom to carry on his shoulders, and the guilt was pinning him down. "Tom, I know y/n doesn't want you to be here, but you're the only person I could trust to watch her while I'm gone."

"What about your parents?"

"Mum and Dad were out on a business trip. I already called them about the situation. Hopefully they'll arrive here tomorrow."

***

Y/n heard voices talking quietly in her room. The room was cold, too cold for y/n's liking. And it didn't help, not one bit, that her disease was getting the best of her. She felt like shit. She sat up straight and lets out a yawn. Her eyes opened slowly and looked around the room. "Jamie, could you-" she stopped midway, when her eyes landed on a certain brunette-haired actor, she rubbed her eyes before looking at him again. “I must be dreaming again." y/n had mumbled quietly, but it was loud enough for Tom to hear.

Again. She had a dream about him more than one time. He had smiled without even knowing. Tom felt nostalgic, and every memory of her kept surfacing back from the moment she spoke.

"Good morning, y/n." She froze. Her brain was processing everything, and it was odd. Because usually, Tom didn't talk in her dreams. Because for the past few nights, in her dreams, she saw him crying. Y/n didn't know what it meant but it has been bothering her. She looked at the man suspiciously before leaning towards the side of her bed, eyeing him closely. Tom had also leaned in, and once the two were close enough, y/n touched his face before gasping and pulling back her hand. "Y-you're real? You're here?!"

"I-uh I came-"

"That doesn't matter. Tom, get the hell out." She pointed towards the door. Tom felt his heart clench. It was like before, she told him to stay away from her and he listened. But he wasn't going to do that same mistake again. "No. I'm staying, y/n." So, he stood his ground. Y/n glared at him; it was as if she loathed him even after they broke up. But deep inside, Tom could see her eyes soften from time to time. "Didn't I tell you to stay away from me?" She spat.

"I know. But I'm not going anywhere, not this time."

"And why is that?"

"You're sick, y/n. And Jamie has finals. I'm not letting you stay here on your own."

"I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. And besides, Mom and Dad will be coming home tomorrow so there's no need for you to be here."

Jamie watched the two converse from the side. As much as she wanted to interfere, she didn't. The younger sister knew better, she knew that it was time for them to finally talk things out. So she walked out of the room silently and went out to buy breakfast for her and Tom.

Tom lets out a frustrated sigh and brushed his fingers through his hair. "Why didn't you tell me about this before, y/n? Why won't you just let me help you?" She was taken aback/n tried to find the words, but she couldn't tell him. "I-I don't know what you're talking about."

"Three years ago. The night we were strolling around the park, you suddenly broke up with me and didn't tell me why. Earlier, Jamie told me you were diagnosed with a disease, also three years ago. Was that the reason, y/n?"

"Don't be daft. I had other reasons, Tom." She avoided the question. Tom knew, her eyes were looking away from his and she was fiddling with her blanket. It was a habit she often does when she was either lying or if she was hiding something. He knew her all too well. After all, after being in a relationship with her for almost seven years, it was hard to forget about her and the little things she does "I'm not stupid, y/n. Why won't you just tell me? Because I still have no fucking clue why you suddenly left me in the air. I deserve and explanation y/n!"

"I don't have to tell you anything Tom! Now would you please," her voice cracked. "Just leave me alone and forget about me."

"I can't! Because for some reason, I just can't seem to let go of what happened that night! I loved you, okay? God, I fucking loved you y/n! Don't you know how hard it was for me to move on with my life for three years? If it was something I did wrong in the past, then I'm sorry! Just tell me why-"

"I was supposed to die, okay!" she bursts out.

Tears streamed out of y/n's eyes and the droplets fell on the white covers of her bed. Tom was silent, heaving out heavily after his sudden outburst earlier. "The doctors said I only had three years to live, possibly even less than that. I didn't knew how to tell you because I was scared, Tom. I'm scared of leaving the life I've dreamed of." The two were silent for a moment. Tom sat back in his chair and propped his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. "Y/n, you could've told me about it, you know? I could've taken care of you." he mumbled out.

"I don't want to be a hindrance to your job. Tom, I know you've been dreaming to be an actor ever since you were young. You love acting, Tom, and I don't want you to stop doing what you love because of me."

"Don't I love you?" this silenced her.

"Y/n, you were never stopping me from anything. You're the only one thinking that. Jamie asked for my help, and I can't let you be alone in this state." Everything was a blur; from the time she was sent to the emergency room up to here. It passed by so quickly that her mind couldn’t comprehend everything that was happening. Tom wanted to help her, even after all that had happened between them, somehow this enlightened her. "I'm dying, Tom. Friedreich's ataxia can't be cured. I don't know how much time I have left, but all I know is that it's soon."

"Then let's make the most of it. Let me stay and be with you in the last moments of your life."

-

day two of One Week

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[fanficsrusz]

Sweaty And Ready

A/n - I wrote this for the amazingly talented @fickensteinn who not only drew me a picture for one of my fics which I absolutely adore, but she also created a new cover picture for my tumblr page and I love it so much, so thank you and I hope you enjoy this. Also, I'm really sorry if there are any mistakes because ive been caught up with some personal stuff.

Y/n's feet kiss the rubber of the treadmill that she ran on, each step causing shock waves to shoot through her body. Her hair stuck to her face like a second skin and her loose shirt clung to her sweat drenched back as droplets of sweat began to fall from her forehead and into her eyes, causing them to sting slightly but she didn't care. 

 A month ago she would have laughed at the idea of running so far and fast without going nowhere, but as she watched Keanu on the other side of the gym curling the dumbbells he held in his hand, with each lift causing his muscles to contract and his biceps to bulge - she could run for forever. 

Keanu was going to be working on a film that required him to bulk up a little and bulk up he did. It wasn't enough for him to look weird or out of place but it was definitely enough for people to notice how good he looked. 

In the past month he had gained so many muscles that y/n didn't know what to do with herself, often finding herself just staring at him as he did his daily routine and there was no way she was going to miss watching him work out. 

Sweat turned keanu's shirt into a dark grey and the drenched material clung to his stomach, the small outline of abs causing y/n to gawk at him shamelessly. 

Y/n was sure that the majority of water on her own shirt was mostly from her drooling rather than sweat.

 The sight of Keanu glistening in sweat and how good his hands looked wrapped tightly around the dumbbell made Y/n gulp nervously as she felt herself become wet at the thought of knowing just what his hands could do to her. 

That's when she missed her step, her left foot getting caught on her right foot and she fell to the ground with a thud. 

"Ow motherfucker" y/n quietly cursed to herself more out of embarrassment than pain and within seconds, keanu was by her side, looking her over before helping her up. 

"You okay?" he chuckled and y/n looked up at him shyly, her already rosy cheeks burning a deeper shade of scarlet. 

Y/n nodded and brushed herself down. "yep. I just - uh tripped. Yeah, I tripped". 

Keanu wasn't dumb and he most certainly could see the way she stared at him and if he couldn't see it, he could feel the way her eyes burned in the back of his head. 

He stood straight, crossing his arms with a smug grin on his face. 

"You sure you weren't staring at your handsome boyfriend and you were so starstruck about how hot he was, you tripped" 

Y/n stared up at him in shock. Maybe she wasn't as discreet as she wanted to be. 

Shaking her head she looked to the ground. "no. I have no idea what you're talking about. And don't talk in the third person, it's weird" 

Keanu held his hands up in defense at her attack but he could read her like a book. 

"Fine ok, you 'tripped' " without saying another word, keanu walked over the other side of the room, ready to continue his work out. 

Y/n legs were heavy from all the running and the feeling of nausea in her stomach let her know that she had done enough cardio for one day. 

On shaky legs, she staggered over to the mirror that hung on the wall, ready to look at her sweaty form and never before had she been so grateful of having her own private gym at home.

 Her hair was in a low ponytail and random strands stuck out in all directions, making her look as if she was caught in the middle of a storm. She grimaced at the sight in front of her before grabbing her towel and wiping her forehead. 

In the reflection of the mirror, y/n watched as keanu abandoned the dumbbells to remove his sweaty shirt and moved to do some pull ups. 

With each pull up he did, keanu's back muscles clenched and became prominent causing y/n's mouth fell open in admiration. 

Y/n stayed by the mirror, watching him shine like a freshly waxed car under the lights in the gym. Keanu begins to grunt with each pull up causing his arms to burn but it was worth it to rile y/n up. 

After several minutes of watching the God in front of her and being pretty sure she had soaked through her panties, y/n decided that two could play at that game. 

Y/n moved forward slowly, swinging herself around the pole that held up the pole keanu hung from and stopped once she was in his line of sight. 

Keanu stopped his pull ups and dropped to the ground. 

"What?" he asked, a small smirk on his face and y/n only shrugged, running her finger down his arm just like she would to a wet car window that was slick with condensation.

"Nothing. Nothing at all" y/n dropped her arm to her side and turned away from him, taking two large steps in front of him before stopping. 

She looked over her shoulder to ensure that his eyes were on her and they definitely were. 

Smiling sweetly, y/n began to bend over, touching her toes as she stretched her body. 

Keanu gulped as he looked at y/ns arse in the tight little shorts she wore. It was perfectly round and firm and just looking at it made his cock twitch in his sweatpants. 

Y/n heard him shuffling towards her and she definitely felt when he pushed his hardened cock against her ass. 

She let out a soft moan when she felt keanu's hand run over her ass and then up her back, only stopping once he had a hold on her hair and roughly pulled her up so she stood straight. 

Y/n let out a gasp as keanu pulled her head to the side and bit down on her neck. 

"you think you're funny do you? Teasing me like that?" y/n didn't say anything and keanu roughly turned her around to face him. 

He looked into her eyes, daring her to speak back to him. 

"No" 

"what was that?" he wrapped his hand around her throat causing y/n to gasp slightly. 

"I - I said no, I wasn't teasing". 

Keanu nodded slowly,  lust evident by the size of his pupils as well as the obvious bulge in his pants. 

Keanu gripped onto onto her wrists and guided her over to the bench that sat in the middle of the room and pushed her over it so she was bent over. 

He rubbed his hand over her ass, quickly slipping his hand under her shorts to and ran his fingers over her slit. 

"Oh, you're already so wet for me. Was that from watching me work out?" y/n whimpered at the sensation but didn't answer. 

Keanu removed his hand, bringing it back to her ass before he lifted it high and delivered one harsh spank across her ass. 

Y/n yelled out as her body jolted forward. 

" I can't hear you" y/n inhaled sharply as she tried to calm herself. 

"Yes. I was watching you and it made your little slut wet" her voice was shaky and laced with need. 

Keanu growled as he ripped the material of her shorts from her body and dropped them to the floor. 

Y/n would have normally felt annoyed that he had just ruined her favourite pair of shorts but in that moment, she didn't care, she just needed to feel Keanu inside her. 

"See, was it that hard to tell me the truth?" keanu dropped to his knees and admired her ass quickly before gently sinking his teeth into her soft skin. It was hard enough to make y/n yelp in surprise and leave a red mark, but not hard enough to draw blood.

"P-Please Keanu. Touch me where i need you". 

Keanu ran his hand up the inside of her thigh, so close to where she wanted him to touch yet so far away. 

"touch you where angel?" y/n threw her head down in defeat before slowly turning to look at him. 

"Touch me there, please". Keanu chuckled as he reached down between her fold, gently rubbing circles around her clit. 

Y/n moaned loudly as keanu continued to rub slow, tormenting circles around the sensitive bud.

He pushed to fingers inside her tight little pussy, y/n's mouth falling open and she shuddered as he grazed against her g-spot. 

"You were so sure of what you wanted earlier but now you can't tell me what you want so we will try this one more time and if you don't give me the answer i want, i'll tie you down and make you watch me get myself off" y/n whined when he pulled his hand out of her, leaving her gaping and wanting more. 

"Nononono ok. Please touch my pussy. Please. I want you to fuck me with your cock, your tongue, your hands. Please Keanu, I need you" keanu couldn't help but smile as he heard the desperation in her voice. 

"That's a good girl". 

He quickly dropped to the floor and within seconds his tongue was running up her slit and dipping into her dripping cunt. 

Keanu reached round and started to toy with her clit, the sensation making her legs wobble. 

"Ah - it feels so good" y/n bit down on her lip as he continued to lick. 

Y/n's moans filled the air as keanu pushed her legs further apart, giving himself more space between her legs. 

His tongue danced around her clit and each flick he gave made y/n moan louder than before. 

"oh fuck. I'm gonna cum, please don't stop" y/ns eyes were clenched shut as she rested against the bench, yet her legs shook violently. 

Keanus hand moved to grasp onto her thighs, keeping her upright so she wouldn't fall. 

Keanu didn't stop his attack on her clit, instead the moans that filled the room only encouraged him to go harder. 

Y/n gripped onto the bench as she felt her lower stomach clench as her climax washed over her, her sweet release dripping from her and keanu was quick to lick it up. 

"Oh fuck fuck fuck" she was unable to say any other words as her body shook violently. 

Keanu pulled away, wiping away the juices that covered his lips. 

Y/n practically fell to the ground after keanu let go of his grip on her thighs, her legs unable to support her weight. 

Her eyes were still closed as she came down from her high and keanu chuckled, moving around the bench to stand in front of her. 

He squatted down in front of her to look at her flushed face. 

"you look so fucking hot right now but you'll look even hotter choking on my cock. On your knees" 

Y/n was slow to stand but she was soon in front of him on her knees, looking up at him through hooded eyes. 

Keanu pushed her hair of her sweaty face and gripped her cheeks tightly in his hands. 

"God how did I get so lucky to have you in my life?" he looked over her face as he reached into his pants and pulled his rock hard cock from his mouth. 

Y/n's eyes lit up as she saw it, a low moan escaping her throat as she pleaded with her eyes. She reached up and grabbed onto it, stroking him slowly as keanu growled at the feeling of her small hands barely wrapping around his cock. 

"look at how hard i am just for you, just from watching you. Where Do you want my cock?" 

"in my mouth, please" y/n smiled brightly and opened her mouth wide, ready to take him. 

"You're so beautiful when you beg" keanu quickly pushed his cock into her mouth and y/n was quick to wrap her lips around the tip before pushing herself forward so she took him all in, making sure to get him nice and wet with her saliva. 

She was tantalisingly slow to move at first, focusing on flicking her tongue against his slit before pushing the cock fully into her mouth. 

Keanu moaned loudly as she swirled her tongue around his cock as she moved. 

"Oh god, y/n your mouth is amazing" he gripped onto the back of her head, encouraging her to move faster. 

Y/n let out a straggled moan as his cock hit the back of her throat and the vibrations only made keanu moan louder. Y/n relaxed her throat to allow him to thrust his cock deeper down her throat and soon he fell into a rhythm of thrusting in time to her movements. 

Y/n pulled his cock from his mouth, watching as pre-cum dripped from the end. 

"I love having you in my mouth, you're so big, it's amazing" 

Y/n reached up to grab his balls, massaging them gently and that was enough for keanu. 

He pulled her up and pushed her roughly against one of the exercise machines before lifting her leg to wrap around his hip.

In one quick movement, keanu thrusted his cock into her pussy, stretching her wide and they both let out lewd moans at the feeling.

"Oh fuck. You're so tight, it feels amazing". Y/n only nodded, her mouth hanging open in ecstasy at the burning sensation from his cock stretching. 

"yes, keanu fuck me harder" he didn't need to be told twice and so he started to thrust into her, each one hitting the sensitive spot within her and once again she felt the familiar burn in her lower stomach. 

Keanu reached down to rub her clit and it was enough to send her over the edge again. 

Her walls tightened around keanus cock tightly and keanu soon followed with his own climax, shooting his load deep into her. 

Both of them moaned as keanu thrusts turned sloppy, riding out their high. 

Keanu rested his head against y/n's shoulder as he tried to steady his breathing and y/n giggled at his exhausted state. 

Once his breathing was at a more steady pace, Keanu pulled out and looked down at y/n. 

"You're seriously so beautiful I don't know what to do with myself" y/n chuckled at him as she reached up to kiss him on the lips. 

"well, you did your workout for today and burned extra calories through other activities and I don't want my old man to have a heart attack so how about we just go take a shower and lay on the sofa?" 

Keanu raised an eyebrow as he looked down at her. 

"That sounds perfect but I'm not old. I could go for another round" y/n nodded and wrapped her arms around his neck. 

"is that so?" she pushed her hand up his stomach and drew circles on his chest "i think we should test that theory" Keanu growled and bent down to pick y/n up, a small squeal escaping her lips as he threw her over his shoulder and began to make his way out of the gym and towards the bedroom. 

"Keanu put me down" she laughed and tried to kick her way out of his hold. Keanu chuckled and delivered one swift smack to her bare ass.

"Stop squirming y/n. The benefit of working out is that I'm now stronger than you so it's pointless to struggle because I'm going to show you exactly what this old man will do to you"

_____

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[what-is-your-plan-today]

Stark Spangled Banner Ch40: I Went For The Head

Intro: The Avengers track Thanos down and confront him for a final time, but it doesn’t go according to plan and leaves them facing the horrible fact that there is simply nothing they can do to set anything right.

Warnings: Bad Language words and a hellluvvvaalottttaaaa angst in this one.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist 

 “Can I have a cheeseburger yet?” Tony grumbled.

“Probably best to start with something a little less greasy.” Bruce started checking the drips attached to Tony’s arm. “It will play havoc with your stomach.”

“Porridge?” Steve suggested.

“What?” Tony pulled a face “For real?”

“Yeah.” Bruce ignored him and looked at Steve then Katie “With honey. It will help your energy levels”

“And then a cheeseburger later? “ Tony persisted. 

“What is this obsession you two have with cheeseburgers?” Bruce looked at him, then to Katie as Tony shrugged.

“But seriously...” he began and Pepper cut him off

“No, Tony!”

“I’m gonna go get that porridge before this turns into a full scale domestic.” Katie grinned. 

“’ll have it in the living room.” Tony said.

“No, you won’t.” Katie looked at him at the same time Pepper protested.

“Yes I will.” Tony shot back, “We need to talk, de brief, plan…” “Steve, tell him it can wait.” Katie looked round at her husband. He hesitated, just for a split second, and she glared at him.

“Honey…” he began and she held her hand up.

“Don’t wanna hear it.” “Tony’s right.” Steve tried to explain but she shook her head.

“No, no he is not. Bruce, help me out here please!”

She looked to the Doctor for help who sighed “What’s the point? He’ll do it anyway. I’ll fetch a chair.” “I don’t believe this.” Katie groaned and ran her hands over her face as Pepper and Tony were now full on arguing. She looked at Steve and he visibly recoiled at the look of pure anger on her face “If anything happens to him I swear to God Steve…”

Steve knew Tony should be resting, he really did, but the Billionaire had been adamant earlier that they needed to do something, and fast. And they’d been on tenterhooks for over three weeks now.

So with all that in mind, and Katie still extremely pissed off, half an hour or so later they reconvened in the conference room. Tony was already in there when she arrived, sat in a wheelchair with an IV bag connected to his arm, hung from a pole behind him. The remnants of a bowl of porridge were in front of him on the table. He was busy looking at the pictures of those that were lost flashing on the holographic screens all around the table as Natasha was talking, his chin resting in his hand as he concentrated. Katie shot Steve another angry glare and he sighed, looking back at Natasha as she spoke.

“World governments are in pieces. The parts that are still working, are trying to take a census. And it looks like he did-” Natasha paused as she swallowed, “He did exactly what he said he was going to do. Thanos wiped out fifty percent of all living creatures.”

“Where is he now?” Tony asked looking right at Steve as he lifted his head from his hand.

Steve sighed before he spoke. “We don’t know. He just- opened a portal and walked through.” He leaned back against the back of an arm chair, his arms folded across his chest.

Tony sighed and looked around the room, frowning as he glanced over to where Thor was sat on a bench outside, deep in thought as his hands wringed together. Katie knew the sight of Tony looking so ill had knocked him further back into his dark mood, the one she’d tried and failed so far to coax him out of.

Tony gestured to the God “What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s pissed. He thinks he’s failed.” Katie sighed.

“Which, of course, he did, but you know, there’s a lot of that going around, ain’t there?” Rocket finished from his spot sitting on the floor against a wall.

Tony leaned forward in his chair, mouth agape at the talking raccoon, “Honestly until this exact second, I thought you were a Build-a-Bear.

Katie grinned, the familiar Tony Stark sass coming back out to play was music to her ears.

"Maybe I am.” Rocket answered, and Steve steered the conversation back.

“We’ve been hunting Thanos for three weeks now. Deep space scans, and satellites, and we got nothing.” He took a deep breath, almost afraid to ask the next question, “Tony, you fought him-”

Tony furrowed his brow, cutting Steve off, “Who told you that? I didn’t fight him. No, he wiped my face with a planet while the Bleecker Street magician gave away the stone. That’s what happened. There was no fight. Because he’s unbeatable.”

“Okay,” Steve softly cut in. “Did he give you any clues? Any coordinates, anything?”

Tony blew air out loudly through his lips as he gave a sarcastic salute to Steve, Steve narrowed his eyes, now really wasn’t the time for his sarcasm. Across from him Katie let out a silent groan, and glanced at Natasha who gave a loud sigh.

“You know, I saw this coming a few years back. I had a vision, you remember that Kiddo?” Tony looked at Katie as she took a deep breath, he was talking about the vision Wanda had given him at Strucker’s lab “But, I didn’t want to believe it. I thought I was dreaming.“

"Tony, I’m going to need you to focus-” Steve started as he stood, taking a step closer to Tony.

Tony tilted his head and looked up at Steve, dropping his hand from rubbing against his lip.

“And I needed you. As in past tense. That trumps what you need. It’s too late buddy, sorry.“ 

Tony’s words echoed round Steve’s head and it felt like he’d been punched in the gut. Tony was right, he’d let them down. He tried his best to keep his face from falling as he breathed deeply and he saw Katie watching him intently, her face expressionless.

“Ok, that’s enough.” Katie started, moving towards Tony but he shook his head, and waved her away. 

"You know what I need?” he asked, his voice rising in volume and Steve’s attention turned to him as he stood, throwing his hand down and sending the remnants of his bowl of porridge flying across the table. “I need a shave. And I believe I even remember telling all of yous, alive or otherwise,” he began to rip his IV out of his arm as Katie stepped forward at the same time Rhodey did.

“Tony, Tony, Tony, stop!”  Rhodey said gently, as Tony ignored him and continued.

“That what we needed was a suit of armour around the world.” He snapped voice raising as his breathing increased without the IV bag feeding him nutrient any longer. “Remember that? Whether it impacted our precious freedoms or not, that’s what we needed.”

Precious freedoms…Steve’s face fell further as he took in Tony’s word, his brother-in-law still blamed him.  "Well that didn’t work out, did it?“ he finally said, his voice full of sadness, tone soft.

But Tony was just getting started, and he paid Steve’s remorse no attention as he continued “I said we’d lose. You said, ‘We’ll do that together too.’” He mocked in a deep voice. “Well, guess what Cap? We lost, and you weren’t there. But that’s what we do, right?” Tony looked around. “Our best work after the fact? We’re the A-vengers? We’re the A-vengers, not the Pre-vengers?” he questioned rhetorically to Katie as she moved to stand in front of him, placing herself in between her brother and her husband.

“Okay, you made your point Tone. Just sit down.” she said, her hand gently in the middle of his chest.

“She’s right.” Rhodey looked at him, taking hold of his shoulder.

Tony ignored both of them completely, instead he turned to Carol and pointed at her “She is fantastic by the way. We need you, you’re new blood. We’re a bunch of tired old mills.” he said before shrugging off Rhodey’s grasp gently pushing Katie to one side as he stepped right up to Steve pointing a finger in his face. Steve’s swallowed and looked down at Tony as Katie hesitated behind him, ready to intervene if Tony did anything stupid.

“I got nothing for you Cap. I’ve got no coordinates, no clues, no strategies, no options. Zero, zip, nada. No trust, liar.” His whispered the last word.

Another punch to the gut. Steve swallowed and took a deep breath. It was true though, he had no defence or response.

“Tony, that’s not fair.” Katie began, glancing at Steve who looked like he had just been slapped. As she did, Tony reached up and ripped the arc reactor off his chest and shoved it into Steve’s hand. Steve looked down at it in utter incredulity.

“Here, take this. You find him, and you put that on.” Tony then turned to Katie “And You, seeing as you follow him everywhere, you hide.”  

Before the last word was fully out, he stumbled, tilting forward and Katie caught him, dropping to her knees keeping his weight supported as best she could.

“Tony.” she said gently as Steve and Rhodey also crouched down.

“I’m fine. I…” his protest was cut off as he collapsed. 

“Get him into the medic bay.” Bruce said as Steve and Rhodey effortlessly picked him up between them and followed Bruce out of the room. Katie headed after them with Pepper as they gently lay him down on the bed and Bruce began hooking him back up to the drips.

“I told you!” Katie blazed at Steve as she stormed out of the room to where Steve was stood looking through the glass windows “I told you he wasn’t up to this. When are you going to realise you don’t always know better huh?”

“I’m sorry.” Steve gulped and looked down at his hands. “And for the record, I realised that a long time ago.”

Katie looked at her husband and despite her anger, she did feel a pang of sympathy for him. He looked utterly broken. She knew what Tony said had upset him. 

“Look, Tony was lashing out.” she replied, laying her hand on Steve’s arm. “He feels guilty. And probably hasn’t had the chance to process and think about it like we have.”

“Thing is he’s right. I am a liar.” Steve sighed and shook his head “I did say we would fight together, and when it came to it, we didn’t, because I couldn’t swallow my damned pride over the Accords.” “Hey.” Katie’s voice dropped as she reached up to turn his face to look at her “Those accords, that entire situation was complicated, Steve. It was never as simple as just swallowing your pride.” “Yeah it was.” He said, with another sad glance in Tony’s direction as Rhodey came out of the room, leaving Bruce to bustle about and check the IVs.

“Bruce gave him a sedative. He’s probably going to be out for the rest of the day.” Rhodey said. Steve nodded but his attention flew to Carol when she spoke.

“You guys take care of him, and I’ll bring him a Zorien Elixer when I come back.” She stated before walking away.

“Where are you going?” Natasha questioned, her tone laced with confustion.

“To kill Thanos.” Carol said simply as she kept walking away. Steve and Katie turned to each other, then looked at Natasha before they all followed her down the few steps back towards the conference room.

Natasha reached her first, “Hey, you know we usually work as a team here, and between you and I, morals a little fragile.”

“We realize up there is more your territory, but this is our fight too,” Steve added, as Rhodey chipped in.

“Do you even know where he is?”

“I know people who might.” Carol replied

“Don’t bother.” A different voice came from the doorframe behind Carol, and they all whipped around to face Nebula. “I can tell you where Thanos is.”

Katie exchanged a glance with Nat, then Steve, and they followed the blue woman to the common room where Rocket was waiting. Rhodey arrived shortly after with Bruce, who looked around questioningly.

“Nebula had an idea and we ran some scans.” Rocket said, hopping up onto the table as Nebula began to talk as she bent over the keyboard at the holograph.

“Thanos spent a lot of time trying to perfect me. And when he worked, he talked about his great plan. Even disassembled I wanted to please him. I’d ask 'where would we go once he’s plan is complete?’ his answer was always the same, 'To the Garden.”

She finished typing in some coordinates.

“That’s cute,” Rhodey scoffed, “Thanos has a retirement plan.”

“So where is he?” Steve asked, not hiding the edge in his voice.

“When Thanos snapped his fingers, Earth became ground zero for a power source of ridiculously cosmic proportions, no one’s ever seen anything like it.” Rocket explained pulling up a hologram of Earth, then a simulation of the power source he was talking about swept over the simulation before the hologram morphed into another planet, “Until two days ago, on this planet.”

“Thanos is there.” Nebula said, matter of factly.

“He used the stones again.” Katie breathed, her mouth going dry as she leaning forward to get a closer look.

“Hey, hey, hey, we’d be going in shorthanded, you know?” Bruce stuttered.

Rhodey joined in, “ He’s still got the stones, so-”

“So let’s go get him. And use them to get everyone back.” Carol said shrugging, as she looked around.

“Just like that?” Bruce questioned.

“Yeah. Just like that.” Steve replied nodding as did Carol. He was done waiting now, it was time to act. This was the best chance they were going to have.

Katie looked at the holograph before looking up to Natasha.

“I mean, even if there’s a small chance that we can undo this, we owe it to everyone who’s not in this room to try.” Nat argued, her voice almost breaking at the words.

“If we do this, how do we know it’s going to end any differently than it did before?” Katie asked, looking around.

“Because before you didn’t have me” Carol stated simply, her hands on her hips.

Steve almost smiled at the look on Katie’s face, her eyebrows disappearing into her hair they’d shot up so fast. But it wasn’t Katie who replied, it was Rhodey.

“Hey new girl, everybody in this room is about that superhero life. And if you don’t mind my asking, where the hell have you been all this time?” he snapped.

“There are a lot of other planets in the universe,” Carol shot back before she sighed, her tone softening, “Unfortunately they didn’t have you guys.”

Katie glanced at Nat, then Steve who raised his eyebrows in a “fair enough” gesture a small smile flickered across his face. But, before anyone had time to comment there was the sound of a chair scraping against the floor as Thor stood from the table he’d been eating at and stomped toward Carol, making Katie jump as she’d completely forgotten he was there.

He came to a stop in front of her staring at her for a beat before lifting his hand. His axe flew past the woman, mere inches from her head whipping her hair around her face.  Not even a flinch. Instead she looked up at Thor appraisingly, her mouth twisting into a small smile.

Thor pondered for a moment, both hands resting on the top of his axe. Eventually he nodded, his face split into a grin and he turned to Katie.

“I like this one, Little Stark.” He nodded and Katie gave a huff of a laugh before she looked at Steve.

He was staring at the alien planet on the hologram before him, jaw twitching. This was it, their chance to find him and bring everyone back. They had to go for it, they had to. The instruction the team was waiting for came in the form of a low growl, the steely Captain America determination emanating from every word Steve spoke as he glanced up.

“Let’s go get this son of a bitch.”

*****

“Alright, now, who here hasn’t been to space?” Rocket asked.

Katie raised her hand and in front of her Natasha did the same as did Steve and Rhodey. Thor looked round, grinning.

“You better not throw up on my ship.” Rocket warned, turning back to the front.

“Approaching the jump in three-“ Nebula said loudly.

Katie clamped her right hand into the side of her seat, reaching her left across the space between them to grab Steve’s hand.

"Two.”

He laced his fingers into hers as he turned his head to look at her, giving her a soft smile.

“One.”

The pure force of the ship’s speed pushed Steve back against his seat as they shot through space, and his eyes widened. It was stunning, the stars and galaxies whirred past in a flash of purples, pinks, silvers… then the ship slowed to a stop.

Rocket opened the hatch and Carol headed out, turning back to the ship as she floated in front in the air outside.

“I’ll head down for recon.” Her voice came over the speakers and she turned and flew away.

Katie unbuckled her seatbelt and stood, stretching her legs before she turned and headed towards where Thor was sat, eyes focussed on a spot on the chair in front of him.

“You ok?” she asked, sitting down next to him. He turned his head to face her and took a deep breath.

“I’m going to kill him.” He said simply before he looked towards the front of the ship. Katie glanced up at Steve who was watching her, turning his compass over in his hand. He gave a small smile before turning to Natasha as she looked up from the tablet she was poking around on and spoke to him as he glanced down and opened it, looking at the photo. That day seemed like an age ago, happy, carefree their faces looked back at him, cross eyed and grinning into the camera.

“This is gonna work Steve.” Nat said, confidently.

“I know it is.” Steve replied simply, snapping his compass shut as he looked up at his friend, before he glanced back at Katie who had her head led on Thor’s shoulder. This was their last chance, the hope they’d been clinging onto, and if it didn’t work…well he didn’t even want to think about that.  “Because I don’t know what we’re gonna do if it doesn’t.” he finished eventually.

Natasha gave him a small squeeze before they both glanced up as a bright light filled the ship. Carol had returned.

“No satellites. No ships. No armies.” she said as she hovered outside. “No ground defences of any kind. It’s just him.”

Nebula spoke as she stared straight ahead at the planet “And that’s enough.”

Rocket followed Carol and landed at the bottom of a hill, a small hut perched on top of it. Steve stood up, turning to everyone and he noticed Thor’s eyes were dark as he grit his teeth together.

“Think he’s in there?” Katie asked, squinting up at the hut. Nebula nodded.

“Alright team, just as we planned.” Steve instructed. Katie took a deep breath and walked down the ramp, glancing around. It looked just like a farm. Rhodey, even thought the comment had been sarcastic had hit the nail on the head. He’d killed countless people and then fucking retired to a farm.

“Are you ready?” Rocket asked.

Katie nodded and twisted her bracelet, the nano-tech of the suit flowing over her. She leaned her arm down to allow the raccoon to climb up onto her shoulder at the same time she saw Thor’s hand gripped round the handle of his axe, as Bruce picked up Natasha in the Hulk buster.

“Don’t drop me.” she teased.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” he replied.

Rhodey grabbed Steve by the back of the suit and they all took off, Carol carrying Nebula as they flew up to the hut. Carol dropped Nebula to the floor and then crashed straight through the wall. Rhodey placed Steve down, then flew up and dropped through the roof.  Thor barrelled through another wall, and Katie followed through as Bruce burst up through the floor, the team surrounding Thanos on all four sides. Thor took a swipe at Thanos’ hand, cutting it clean off taking the Infinity Gauntlet with it.

Katie stood in front of Thanos, repulsors raised as she heard Steve and Natasha head up the steps into the hut. Rocket jumped off her shoulder, kneeled rolled over the severed gloved hand, recoiling instantly. They all glanced down and Steve felt his stomach clench. No stones.

“Where are they?” he bit out, drawing level with Katie as he stared down Thanos.

Thanos took a deep breath, his breathing heavy, almost as if he was struggling to draw oxygen. Carol tightened her grip around his neck.

“Answer the question.” she growled.

Thanos shifted uncomfortably. “The universe required correction.” he said between deep breaths “After that, the stones served no purpose beyond temptation.”

“You murdered trillions!” Bruce yelled as he kicked Thanos against the wall of his shack.

“You should be grateful.”

Bruce punched Thanos again, and Katie moved forward to look down at him, and when she spoke her voice was shaky

“Where are the stones?” she demanded, retracting her helmet.

“The stones are gone. Reduced to atoms.“

"You used them two days ago?” she bit out

“I used the stones to destroy the stones.” Thanos said, looking down at his arm which was horrifically burnt right up to his neck. “It nearly killed me. But the work is done, it always will be.”

Suddenly it was as if someone had placed that rubber band back around Steve’s chest. They were gone. There was nothing they could do. Katie looked up and Steve locked eyes with her, her’s were already misting over and in front of him he could see Natasha was visibly shaking.

“I am inevitable.” Thanos breathed out.

“We’ve got to tear this place apart! He…he..has to be lying,” Rhodey said desperately as Steve turned to look Thanos. He could tell instantly he wasn’t.

“My father is many things.” Nebula said softly, stepping forward as she looked down sadly “A liar is not one of them.”

“Ah, thank you, daughter.” Thanos looked at her and praised, “Perhaps I treated you too harshly.”

At that point, Thor gave a growl and swung his axe aggressively, with a single swipe taking off the Titan’s head. Katie’s chest was heaving as the tears were now fully falling down her face, but Steve could do nothing but look down at the headless body.

“What?” Rocket gasped, “What did you do?”

Thor was silent before he looked round the room and his eyes locked with Katie’s “I went for the head.” He answered simply before he turned and left.

“Thor?” Katie called out shakily stumbling after her friend, “Thor? Where are you going?”

“It is over. There is nothing more we can do.” he sighed simply as he turned to her. He placed his hand on her shoulder and looked her square in the face. “I bid you farewell Little Stark.” With that he dropped a soft kiss onto her cheek and stared straight into her face “You have a big heart, full with fire. Never let that fire go out.”

And with that he held his axe high above his head and the Bi-Frost engulfed him and in seconds he was gone.

Katie’s eyes dropped to the floor and she began to cry. Thor was right, it was over. And there was nothing they could do about it. She jumped slightly as a hand dropped to her shoulder and she spun to see Steve, his eyes shining with his own tears, face giving away the devastation he felt inside.

This was it, the absolute end of any hope they had.

****

Katie headed straight for the medical bay when she got back. Tony hadn’t woken up and she found herself choking up again as Pepper who was sat by his bed poking at a tablet in her hand looked up at her, hope in her eyes. As soon as she saw the look on Katie’s face she hung her head before she glanced up at the youngest Stark.

“You did all you could.” She said gently “Now, we have to rebuild and get on with our lives, help those that are left.” “How?” Katie managed to whisper, once more the tears welling in her eyes “We have nothing left to offer.”

“There are ways.” she said simply, looking back to her tablet. “Not superhero ways, just human ways.” Katie listened as she outlined her plans for Stark Industries going forward, and how she wanted to refocus the company’s resources and technology to help the homeless and the bereaved. Pepper explained that whilst they had packed up and moved all the Avengers and major research stuff to the compound, the sale of the Tower hadn’t quite gone through at the time of the snap so she was intending to withdraw from it completely and use that to run everything from.

“I know you may have other things on your mind but I want you to take your share in the business back” she offered gently. Katie looked at her, bowing her head as she wrung her hands together. “And what’s more, I know you’ve always shied away from running any part of the main business, but I’d like you to spear head the relief fund, as my Deputy CEO. If you want the job that is.”

It was such a normal, nonchalant suggestion that Katie found herself agreeing. If she was honest she wasn’t sure what the future held for any of them now, but she knew that this was the right thing to do, try and help those left.

“I’m also thinking we should sell up the other various Stark Industry sites around the Country, namely DC, Malibu and Seattle.” Pepper continued

“Well, if we consolidate all our sites into one place especially after everything that was happened it will be easier to run and re-focus the business objectives.” Katie nodded “But we will probably need a few small offices in the main cities, you know.” “Operation Centres.” Pepper nodded “Agreed, but we don’t need the big sites. We have this place and the Tower.” It was clear Pepper had given this a lot of thought. And when Katie voiced that, she smiled sadly and replied “Well, it’s not like I’ve had much else to do recently.”

The two of them sat there, sketching out the bones of a plan along with who to contact and how to go about it, finally calling it a day in the early hours of the morning. It felt good to have something to focus on, and Katie felt a little less down when she left. Pepper was right, they could still help people, just not in the way she was used to.

But they couldn’t bring anyone back…

When she got back to their quarters, Steve wasn’t there. But she knew exactly where he would be. Turning back out of the door she headed down to the gym. She could hear him before she’d even reached the double doors.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

The pummelling noise his fists were making on the punching bags was like a mantra in his mind. With every blow he was landing a different person and how he had failed them flashed in front of his eyes. Bucky, Sam, Wanda, Tony, Katie, their baby. This had always been his standard way of coping, when the pressures of his new life got to be too much, and he couldn’t sleep at night he would take out his anger on a punch bag or by running, but as the years had gone he had started to do it less and less, until he had pretty much stopped altogether. He hadn’t done this since Katie had gone missing, but then he hadn’t felt as angry and as useless as he did right now in a long time.

He pulled back his right fist and gave a particularly violent punch, scattering sand from the bag all over the floor. That one had hurt. He stopped, glanced down at his fist and grimaced. His knuckles were split wide open.  

“Steve?” he heard her voice and he took a deep breath, grabbing the bag in front of him with his hand as he pressed his forehead against it, the bag gently spilling its contents onto the floor.  

“Stevie?” she repeated, stepped closer and saw that he was trembling from head to toe, his T-shirt was soaked with sweat and his hair was plastered to his forehead.  For a moment he didn’t speak until he took a deep breath and Katie almost didn’t hear him his response was that quiet.

“It’s my fault.”

Katie had seen him grieve before, after Peggy’s death, and again of sorts when they had left Bucky behind in Wakanda for Suri to help him. But he’d been stoic since they had returned to the compound almost four weeks ago. But now, here he was stood before her, completely undone, his every part of his soul was dripping with guilt.

“We failed, remember?” she told him softly, stepping closer.

His hands were trembling, blood dropping from his split knuckles to the floor. He looked down, avoiding her gaze and gave a derisive snort “Appropriate huh, blood on my hands. What kind of father would I have ever made?”

Before Katie could stop herself she’d slapped him across the face, hard enough to whip his head around to the side. His eyes widened slightly, the shock of the blow worse than the actual slap itself, but still he couldn’t bring himself to look at her. 

"Don't.” she managed to say, stumbling over her words as her voice cracked. She was crying now. “Steven Grant Rogers, don’t you fucking dare!”

Steve shuddered as her words bounced off the walls of the gym and he finally looked at his wife. Katie’s anger drained away instantly and she reached up, cuppings his face and smoothing the cheek she had slapped.

“Steve,” she looked straight into his eyes. “Tony always told me as a kid that as long as you can tell yourself honestly you did the best you could, then there is nothing else left for you to do. And we did the best we could. Yes, it wasn’t good enough but that is not on you, okay?”  her hands tightened their hold on his face as her own tears fell in time with his. “You’ve led us through thick and thin, been there, taken countless hits for us. The Avenger’s couldn’t have asked for a better Captain and I…” her voice cracked again as Steve stepped into her embrace and she whispered her last sentence into his ear “I couldn’t wish for a better husband to be by my side.”

Steve buried his face in his wife’s hair, breathing in her familiar smell as their sobs rang around the gym. The damn broke inside him and he simply cried until he had no more tears left to cry, Katie doing the same as she pressed her faced into his chest, her hands tightly fisting in his damp shirt.

“I don’t deserve you.” He croaked eventually. And he didn’t. She was so brave, strong and pure hearted. What had he ever done to be worthy of that?

“Yes, you do.” she sniffed, looking up at him “You’re a good man Steve, and you’re my man. I love you more and more with each day that goes by.”

She slid her hands up to his cheeks again and he closed his eyes, breathing deeply, relishing her touch. They were broken, the whole team was. But as he stood there, his arms round his wife he knew that she wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was he. They were going to have to move forward, simply taking each day at a time as they did. There was simply nothing else left to do. 

*****

“You know I meant every word I said last night” Katie said as they sat in the kitchen the next morning, neither of them had slept particularly well and spent most of the night on the couch, just holding one another. With a yawn she placed a mug in front of him and sat down in the stool next to him at the breakfast bar. She reached up to stroke his face and tilted his eyes to meet hers “No more blame, no more guilt. We did what we could.”

“And the bit where you said you love me more and more each day?” He said, his lips quirking slightly at one side.

“That as well…” she said, leaning forward to give him a peck.

“Still not sure what I did to deserve you.” He said softly, resting his forehead against hers.

“Stop it.” she said in a warning tone before she kissed the bridge of his nose “Breakfast?”

He nodded, and she moved from where she was sat to rustle up some eggs and bacon.

As they ate they were interrupted by FRIDAY who told them that Tony was awake and demanding to speak to Steve.

Steve stiffened before he turned to look at Katie. Fact of the matter was he couldn’t face his brother-in-law. Tony had been right all along.

“I’ll go.” Katie said, taking a deep breath “You stay here. I’m not having another screaming match.” “Thanks.” He smiled, turning his attention back to his food. Katie watched him for a second before she offered him the remainders of her breakfast as she was full, which he accepted as she smiled and kissed his cheek.

She quickly showered, dressed and made my way down to the medic bay, raised voices getting louder as she drew nearer.

“Tony, calm down.” Rhodey’s voice was stern.

“Calm down? How can I calm down? I mean you’re actually telling me you were stupid enough to go after Thanos a second time?”

“Yes, Tony.” Bruce sighed, “Only it didn’t work out.” “What a fucking surprise.” Tony’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Where the hell is that goddamned husband of my sister’s? I bet he was the one that…” 

“Alright that’s enough!” Katie snapped as she walked through the door, her tiredness from the lack of sleep coupled with the fact she was emotionally drained meant she wasn’t in the mood for coping with Tony’s tantrum. She looked at Rhodey and Banner who were stood by his bed and jerked with her head towards the door and they happily obliged.

“Where is he?” Tony demanded.

“I told him to stay away.” she stared at Tony as the door shut behind the two men as they left. “Don’t you dare lay this on him, he doesn’t deserve that. We made a choice, as a team, we had to try one last time.”

Tony pinched the bridge of his noise as he looked at his sister, noticing the bags under her eyes and pale face. He softened slightly. “What happened?”

Katie took a deep breath and sat in the chair on the opposite side to Pepper who was looking a little less flustered now Katie had arrived and had calmed him down somewhat.

“We got there too late. He had destroyed the stones, so we have no way to undo the effects of his snap.”

Tony lay his head back on the pillow, looking up at the ceiling. “So where is he now?” “Dead.” Katie said simply “Thor did exactly what he said he was going to do. Cut off his head and then took off.” “Thor? Where to?”

“No idea.” Katie shrugged “And I’m not sure we’ll see him again for a very long time, if at all.” “How are the others?”

“A mess” she sighed “Steve spent most of the night pounding his fists into a punch bag to the point he made his hands bleed.” she levelled her brother with a stern look. “You know he’s grieving too and he blames himself enough without you doing it as well.” “I don’t blame him.” Tony said after a short sigh

“Good, because there’s enough anger and bitterness floating around as it is”  Katie rubbed at her tired, sore eyes “We tried our best Tony, but this time our best simply wasn’t good enough.”

At those words he looked at her, his eyes misting over as hers did the same. With a sigh he took her hand and squeezed it gently. 

“I know Kiddo, I know.”

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[thewanderingknight]

Aside the Outlaws, Ch. I

Life with your newfound family among the Van der Linde Gang is pretty rough and tumble, but your modest skill of riding sidesaddle could benefit the gang while infiltrating a wealthy Lemoyne estate.

Chapter I | Chapter II | Chapter III | Chapter IV | Chapter V

Arthur Morgan & Reader No warnings Word Count: 1,829 Notes at the end!

Life at Clemen’s Point moved slowly, or so you surmised, especially during the downslide of the day, when chores were done and the rest of the gang had not yet returned from their missions. You kept yourself busy, tidying your shared tent with Arthur, washing clothes, picking herbs for Kieran to fashion into tonics for the horses. You climbed the small hill and waved to him, greeting your bay Turkomen, Godiva. She nickered as you gave her grain for the evening and set a curry brush to her, getting lost in the motion. The shout from the guard pulled you out of your reverie. Your eyes scanned for Arthur’s blue shirt and you smiled when you saw him ride up behind Lenny.

He smiled as he saw you walking towards him. “Hi, handsome,” you cooed as he hopped off his dapple Thoroughbred. You stroked the jagged stripe on the horse’s face.

“Hey to you, too.”

“I was talking to him,” you gestured at his horse with a coi smile, as Arthur pinched your hip and you squeaked, leading him by the elbow to the tent.

“Go and change outta those clothes, I’ll wash them tomorrow,” you said as he sat down and stiffly pulled off his boots. You kissed his temple before going to fetch some stew for him.

“What kinda trouble you get up to today?” you asked when you returned, handing him a bowl.

“Ah, just some scoutin’. We’re checking out another one’ah these families down here.”

“Which one?”

“The Pilot Plantation,” he answered through a mouthful of stew. “One with them huge gardens. Ladies riding sidesaddle and whatnot.”

“Really? It’s 1899. Them things is kinda outdated, right?”

“You’d know, darlin’. When’s the last time you rode sidesaddle, anyhow?”

You let out a breathy laugh, “Longer’n it should be, I guess. Daddy’d be cussin’ my uncle, knowin’ he sold my saddle, not before cussin’ me for joinin’ up with some outlaws.” You touched your hat hanging from the tent post. It was a wide, stiff-brimmed hat your father had never left home without, and now adorned your head most days.

On the small table next to the cot, a small portrait of your mother sat next to the one of Arthur’s mother, the two of them staring out side by side. Your mother was delicately poised atop a proud Palomino Saddlebred, her smile beaming from under a round bonnet. Apart from Godiva, these were the only remaining vestiges of your life before the Van Der Linde Gang.

You gathered Arthur’s discarded clothes in your arms and leaned down to peck his lips. “Feels like a different life now, anyhow,” and swept out of the tent, away from burgeoning thoughts of lives long gone.

*****

The next day, Arthur stayed close to camp. The two of you slowly walked the shores of Flat Iron Lake; Arthur was looking for a decent fishing spot with his rod slung over his shoulder, and you walked behind him, scanning the ground for herbs and flowers to collect, placing them in your satchel. A good portion of the morning found Arthur wading barefoot into the lake, whistling as his line sung off his spool. He turned to see you with an armful of wildflowers, cautiously stepping your way to the top of a boulder poking out into the lake a few yards away, dipping your feet into the cool water. The lining of your chemise caught the tips of small waves and soaked up the water, clinging to your legs. You watched him fish, content with the silence and the hot sun warming the boulder. You shifted your hat, and found yourself staring at the fuzzy line on the lake where the steel water toed with the cloudless sky.

You were startled back to the present when Arthur splashed some water your way. You jumped into the knee-high water with your dress bunched in your hands, Arthur guiding you back to shore by your waist to share in some lunch.

The afternoon found Arthur with a good haul of trout that he had gilled and prepared for Pearson, and you with a satchel stuffed full of berries and flowers. You began your march back to camp. At one point you had looked back at the rounding of the shoreline to see the pair of footprints you and Arthur left in the sooty sand; his deep lengthy stride cut deep, while yours flitted across the surface. What a pair the two of you made.You smiled at the thought.

You crossed through camp and dropped off your contributions to Pearson. Dutch had waved Arthur over to his tent before you had emptied your satchel, and he had skulked over with Bill, Micah, and John. You noticed Arthur’s tackle box on the table, and picked it up to return it to him. He was standing outside Dutch’s tent, leaning against the tent pole with his arms crossed. He looked at you walking towards him. You held up his tackle box and began to lift his satchel flap to return it as Dutch poured over a map and loudly spilled ideas of his new scheme.

“He’s havin some.. garden party or some such. During the day.”

“What’s the take like?” Arthur barked while you clasped his satchel shut.

“Risky, but he’s got bonds in there. In the house.” Dutch tapped the map.

“You thinkin’ somethin’ quiet?” Hosea chimed, “gotta be someone who can play the part. Quick, no fuss. Put on an act. You or I, maybe..”

“Ah, we don’t wanna spread our faces ‘round here too much, with all the dust we’re kicking up with the sheriff in Rhodes. Gotta be someone else. A low profile.”Dutch’s slow unveiling of words composed the ideas of the men around him. They buzzed around each other, battling for position.

Before you could stop yourself, or think about why you were leaning forward, you spoke out.

“I can do it.”

All heads turned.The looks had completely stilled you. All but Dutch, who’s careful gaze never left the table. You took a breath and continued. “I can do it. Nobody would know me there. And, ladies ride sidesaddle around their gardens. I can do that. I know how to do that. These families down here with deep roots, they seem to….appreciate tradition.” Arthur reached for you, but you grabbed his forearm and stepped forward even more. “Reckon I can ride in there, like I’m a lady of nobility or some such to ride through their gardens, figure out where the bonds are, or let some of the boys in through the back and take em’ all. A lady without an escort, even, would cause a distraction, giving you a way in. Could probably hide somethin’ underneath my skirt for...insurance.”

“Our own trojan horse, as it were,” Hosea smiled.

“Your little maid’s got ideas, Morgan,” Micah sneered, at which point Arthur stepped up behind you. No matter, your eyes remained on Dutch, hunched over and hands sprawled over the map, the lantern hanging from the tent ceiling illuminating his sleek hair.

“I did see an old sidesaddle for sale at the Stables in Saint Denis…” Trelawney chimed.

“Arthur put you up to this?” Dutch drawled.

“No sir,” you lifted your chin, “I am capable of making my own decisions. Figure I’d like to help the camp, is all.”

“Oh I know you are, dear, and I admire that.” He finally looked up and met your gaze. You held it, only a little nervous, remembering the time when you were young and got caught between the fence and a large Shire stud. “Let me think on this. It’s simple enough it could work without a hitch. Trelawney, take her into town to make sure she looks the part. Arthur, go with ‘em and make sure her horse looks the part as well.”

The light from the lantern bloomed as the heat around you dispersed, all the men had walked away. You caught a glance from Arthur and again without really thinking, walked to the shores of the lake, stiff-legged. The fingers of waves stroked the toes of your lace-up boots.

You had never done something like this before. Not even the small-scale coach robberies you would see Karen, Mary-Beth, and Tilly all return from, never minding taking over their chores for that day. But now? Well, you had something to offer, and you didn’t want to give that up. An actress you were not, but even if Bill could play a drunken idiot, the role of a high society woman would come to you just as easily.

In your tent, you walked in on Arthur hunched over his journal which he promptly snapped shut when he saw you enter. He had laid out your night clothes on the cot in a learned attempt to mimic how you would fold extra clothes for him; always making sure he had a winter coat and an extra union suit packed on his horse He got up and immediately handed you an open bottle of whiskey.

“What an odd reward system,” you smiled before taking a long swig.

“Just thought you needed somethin’ after today,” he simply replied. You handed the bottle back and grabbed your night clothes, beginning to change. Arthur took a sip and stared at the bottle. You looked at him after you slipped out of your dress, wondering at his lack of attempt to seat you on his lap, like he usually tried.

“Are... you surprised?” you tried.

“No, no. Well, maybe a little.”

“You think I can’t do it?”

“No! It’s not like that!” He sat back down on the cot. Took another swig. Looked at you.

You grabbed the bottle from him and took another gulp. You knelt between his legs and began to undo the buttons on his shirt. He gently grasped your shoulders, rubbing with his thumbs.

“You already do so much for the camp. For me,” he started quietly, ”even when I don’t ask you to.”

“You do too much for the camp,” your words gently clamped down on him. “And I want to do things for you, how many times I gotta tell you?”

“Probably ‘til I believe it.”

“Then what’s the matter, Arthur?” you tilted your head to look at him, the only thing in your vision.

“You want to do this? I mean, for real.”

At the time, you wouldn’t realize that he might have been asking, even after all this time you had been with him, if you wanted him. If you wanted a small portion of the work that forced his hand, forged his workhorse mentality that snorted after a long day in the yoke. That you would willingly become a part of whatever happened after leaving the camp. Not just for the gang, but for him. With him.

“Yes.”

He pressed your foreheads together with the light finality and deliberation of a seal in wax before it cools. “Alright then.”

Notes: OMG I am so sorry, I had to delete the first post and re-upload it because something glitchy happened. 

While Rockstar kind of skims over this, ladies almost exclusively rode sidesaddle up until 1900! But 1899 could be justified as a transition year where women started wearing trousers and riding astride, like Sadie. 

A female reader was kept in mind, because skirts can hide all sorts of things. Wink!

Arthur’s horse is the reverse dapple Thoroughbred that came with some pre-order editions of the game.