#that was their only job yet jean constantly had to tell others soldiers not to do one thing or another

[oxygenbefore1775]

Imagine the level of stress Jean must've had during the raid on Liberio

As a leader of a squad, not only did he have to look after his subordinates and make sure that everyone just does their job, he also had to deal with someone like Floch deliberately harming the civilians picking fights with Titans and encouraging others to do the same even when it was against the plan

[extremelyblackandwhite]

innocence - 02

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: age gap

A/N: i’m still stunned at how many of you are enjoying this story. thank you so so much for your support. much love xx

NEXT CHAPTER

Bucky always woke up at 5AM and waking up at 5 AM was already considered a victory for him - to sleep through the night. Once the digital clock flashed 5 AM in electric red, his eyes were wide open, the sight of constant darkness being the only thing he could see. His routine was precise, as precise as time itself and it barely changed - gym then a dark cup of coffee followed by reading whatever coffee side table book Steve would linger around.

Y/N, unlike him, didn’t have a precise routine. She enjoyed routine but her mornings were always her own time, away from everything. On her free days she would try to wake up by at least 10. After she was fully awake she would turn on the TV in her bedroom and turn on the kettle for a nice tea. She would then lay in bed, surrounded by her blankets and dressed in an oversized cardigan while some random show played.

Bucky’s mornings were always filled with people coming in and out, that was life living in the Avengers headquarters. Some mornings he thought about moving into the apartment in Brooklyn but that would just upset Steve. Heck, he didn’t even know Bucky had bought the apartment, it had been an impulse buy and he would go there every week to check on it. However, Brooklyn wasn’t as close to Y/N’s in SoHo so he guessed he would stay. Y/N’s mornings on the other hand were quiet, too quiet. It was just her, just her in a two bedroom apartment in the middle of wealthy SoHo.

      - Morning, Buck. - Steve, like always, walked into the kitchen, coffee mug saying number one dad in hand. He always had this smile that Bucky couldn’t find the words, a smile that was almost glad that he was still alive yet pitiful. The pure look of someone who’s been burdened, a mother to a child’s look, one she didn’t want. - Excited for guarding your first client?

      - Feels more like guarding property. - he mumbled over the dark coffee, chugging it all before anymore questions could be asked. 

It shouldn’t be a hard day, he thought to himself, mostly looking after her if she decided to go out for anything. He had looked into her profile, she was an easy target. Almost always wearing heels, flowey clothing, things that wouldn’t help her if someone was after her. Anyway, looked like an easy job, easier than saving the world.

Meanwhile, Y/N was laid in the middle of her covers, remote in hand as she skimmed through the channels. Looking around she noticed the loneliness she was in, the empty walls decorated with her own choosing but still empty. No sounds, too quiet. 

She rose from the bed, big socks touching the cedar wood floor as she padded up to the kitchen. The agency had had everything decorated and the fridge stocked but as she opened the door she couldn’t find a single thing she wanted to eat. Disappointed, she closed the fridge, leaning against it to look at the rest of the flat. It was quiet, too quiet, filled with the sounds of quiet if that was even a physically possible thing. She let herself slide down the fridge front, sitting on the floor as she thought about what to do. She didn’t have her script yet, or at least more than two pages of it and going outside was the least thing she wanted to do today.

Y/N was about to fall asleep on the ground against her fridge, she heard footsteps. Quickly, she got onto her feet, rushing over to the door so fast she almost slipped. Pushing the peep hole away she put herself on her tippy toes to see if one of the neighbours was home.

     - Y/N, are you staring out the peep hole? - the person whose steps belonged too was definitely better than any neighbour. Quickly, she unlocked the door, pushing the metal that held it shut to the wall and opened it to see Bucky in a much more casual attire than before. Red henley with some loose dark jeans looked better in her opinion. - If you hear someone it’s always a terrible idea to use the peep hole. Almost always let’s them know someone’s in.

     - Then what are peep holes for? - Bucky playfully rolled his eyes but not before observing what she was wearing. She looked more comfortable. - Do you wanna come in? 

     - Miss Olson said I am to wait outside your door until you want to leave the apartment.

     - What if someone broke my window and took me?

     - Trust me, Y/N. I would know and would win that fight. 

     - You sure you don’t wanna come in? I could cook you some breakfast. Whatever you like. - she had that shine in her eyes, Bucky couldn’t explain it. He just knew it didn’t felt forced but she surely was nervous judging by the pushing of her oversized cardigan’s sleeve to cover her hand. - The agency filled my fridge with so much food I don’t know what to do with it.

     - I’m not a breakfast kind of person, Y/N.

     - Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. - her small hand came to rest over his wrist, pulling at it so he would go inside. He found it amusing how someone who was much shorter than him, head barely hitting his collarbones, would try to move him. Although, surprising wasn’t the fact that he moved but the fact that she touched him, she touched the Winter Soldier.

Bucky wasn’t a kid anymore, he wasn’t naive and he lacked Steve’s “all good” view of the world so he knew what people thought of him. They thought he had been of use but at the end of the day he had been the Winter Soldier for 70 years. They didn’t dare touch him but her she was inviting him into her home and touching him as if he were an old friend.

Once he got in, he immediately looked at everything. There were fake flowers everywhere in little glass jars, if they were broken and she were trying to escape she would get hurt, too many windows and not a lot of mirrored surfaces, people could look in. 

     - Would you like some pancakes? French toast? - her voice interrupted his inspection. - My mom was a cook, I can cook pretty much whatever you want. Can’t promise it will be as good as a cook’s but it’ll be edible.

     - You really don’t need to feed me, Y/N. - his gaze returned to her apartment, open doors everywhere.

     - I just thought ... since you’re going to be around a while we should be friendly with each other. - she looked down at her feet before looking up again, head slightly looking to the side. - I don’t know anyone in here, I didn’t even pick this apartment so I thought I would at least get to know you.

She felt ashamed, heat seemed to radiate from her cheeks to her whole body. Back at the theatre everyone knew each other, they all had show themed hoodies and would say hi whenever they came in and left but things in Hollywood were different. In her first movie she had made friends with only one cast member who still spoke to her but everyone else did their job and returned to their lives without a single hello. She thought that maybe knowing Bucky would make having someone constantly in her life a bit easier but she understood his position.

Bucky himself seemed to read that all on her face and as he did a thought popped into his head “they are gonna eat her alive”. 

     - Let’s try that French Toast. - she smiled at his answer, once again pulling his hand towards the kitchen. It was spacious for a SoHo flat, with cut edge technology and also a very visible knife set. He would have to tell her to put that somewhere else. 

She on the other hand quickly assembled all she needed, placing it on the marble countertop, a happy grin on her face as she started to prepare the meal. It reminded him of memories he had tried to suppress.

     - Mum’s a cook, why are you an actress? - those memories were still memories he wasn’t ready to get back and as such he reckoned speaking with her would keep it out. 

     - I don’t really know how to explain it. - she smiled, pulling a few hair strands behind her ear. - My mum took me to a musical after I didn’t get cast in the nativity play. It was Phantom of the Opera, I just remembered that chandelier rising and crashing and the energy of the performers. There was just ... that was time stopping and rushing at the same time. And the look on the performers faces as they finished a piece, god it was just, I had never seen and I don’t think I have ever seen such passion in someone’s face. 

Bucky moved his head ever so slightly, she seemed to be lost in her own memories, a daydream gaze washing over her features. He wondered what it was like to have memories to be proud of.

     - I’m sorry, I must sound like a sap. Why do you become a bodyguard?

     - I like a challenge.

     - That’s what you told me yesterday. - she placed a beautiful set plate in front of him. Beautiful things make beautiful things, that’s what his mother once told him. Maybe she was right.

     - What can I say, I’m not that interesting. 

     - I don’t know if that’s true. - she added a coffee cup to the French Toast, before pulling a chair. - You know, if I’m at home you don’t need to be outside my door, you can come in.

     - I wouldn’t want to intrude on your personal space.

     - It’s not really my personal space. The agency bought the flat and decorated it themselves so I guess it’s just the space I live in. I don’t really know the city yet so you’re mostly waiting outside for nothing. - she shrugged.

    - How long have you been in New York?

    - A little over 5 months. I was in California during my last movie and prior to that I was living in Haymarket in London. How long have you been in New York?

    - I was born in Brooklyn, about half hour away from here. Lived here my whole life ever since ... at least the part of it I could control.

Bucky waited to see that pity look, the one everyone in the team seemed to give them whenever they looked at him but she didn’t. She merely wrapped her hand around his, caring smile of someone who almost looked proud he existed or proud he was alive. They’re gonna eat her alive, he thought to himself once again.

    - Hey, you could show me around. - she suggested, jumping from the high chair onto the floor.

    - I don’t hang around SoHo, Y/N. 

    - Well, you could show me Brooklyn. Isn’t Coney Island in Brooklyn?

    - You wanna go to Coney Island? - he chuckled. - I don’t think your agency would enjoy that. Too public.

    - They don’t need to know. - she smirked playfully. - If you don’t tell them they won’t know.

    - You’re a celebrity, trust me you’ll be noticed. 

    - You said on your CV you were good at blending and disappearing into a crowd. Please, I’ll get you whatever you want in Coney Island.

    - Whatever I want? - he furrowed his eyebrows at her and she nodded. - Alright, Y/N.

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[boogiewrites]

Rosie & the Road Less Traveled

Characters: Declan Harp x Rosie Anderson (OFC)

Summary: Declan Harp 1970s Hippy/Roadtrip AU Rosie has made a bold decision and decided to leave her monotonous life. She sets out to create her own with a group of misfits traveling  across America, post-Vietnam during the 1970s. She breaks out of her shy and insecure, sheltered shelf to have an adventure where she learns the realities of life outside her former cookie-cutter existence. She experiences, a year of sex, drugs, and rock and roll as the group of ex-soldiers and free spirits change her worldview and show her another way. She meets the charming but damaged Declan who takes her under his wing. Will a budding romance for this blossoming Rose prove to be her gift from the universe for making the hard decision to be her own woman? 

Warnings/Tags: Talk of emotional abuse by family. 

Click on my screen name then go to Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. Please leave a like, reblog or comment if you enjoyed this! It makes me want to write more of what you want if you let me know!

Rosie awoke in the same pink and frill filled bedroom she had every day of her life so far. She could smell the same coffee she wasn’t allowed to have. The scent filled up their Better Homes and Gardens modeled modest family home settled in a suburb full of pastel houses with the same pastel cars in their driveway. It was polished and performative, just like Rosie’s mother who was standing in her doorway looking like a copy of June Cleaver.

“You’ll be late for John to pick you up! Don’t keep a man waiting! A wife must be preemptive and pretty dear.” She exits as quickly as she’d entered. Rosie is left looking to her favorite childhood toy and only friend, Booger Bear, with a sigh before starting her day. Not much had changed in Rose Anderson’s life since she was a child. She was raised by older parents, very strict and traditional. Which would explain why they’d agreed to her engagement so fervently. She was 24 and unmarried and being a spinster was not an option according to them. So she was having yet another huge life decision made for her by someone else. She couldn’t remember the last time she had held her own opinion or made up her own mind. She had fear instilled within her from a young age that she was less than and this was used to keep her under control. Being different as she was with her ghostly white skin and pale blonde hair, her albinism stood out among her peers. She wore glasses and a constantly apologetic look on her face. Her childlike treatment was clear on her face as her features were baby round. A button nose and large light blue eyes with cheeks that always had a flush to them showed her softness unwillingly. She truly did look like a baby animal, naive, and easy prey.

This was a common theme among the treatment she’d had from men so far in her life. She didn’t expect any different. Her mother had cried tears of relief when George had asked for her hand. She would finally be able to tell her bridge club that her daughter had at least something normal going on about her. The cruel and belittling words she’d heard her whole life only made sense to continue hearing from this new person that would now be in charge of her she was told. If nothing had changed in her life up to this point, why would it ever?

The fact that George never showed didn’t surprise her. So when she went into town to run wedding errands on her own she wasn’t surprised. Wasn’t the first time, wouldn’t be the last. He usually disappears at night and not in the morning so that was unusual but she went through her day with the same polite smile she always did. A smile that said sorry for existing. She called her home from the library, offering to see if her mother needed anything for supper. She hadn’t but she had heard from George’s mother, and she hadn’t seen him either. So it was now Rosie’s job to find him, as they’d be married soon.

She sat defeated on a bench to rest as the sun started to set. She’d asked at the stores on the square and no one had seen him. Luckily for her, she’d sat down in front of the Beauty Parlour and it being a small town, everyone knows everyone, one of the ladies there knew who sweet little odd Rosie was and took pity on her.

“I know it’s not my place to say so baby but that man of yours is no count. You know that right?”

“I’m sorry ma'am?”

“You were in town all day today alone, doin' your dress and all that right? For the wedding?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“And he’s been across county lines getting drunk as a skunk.” She shakes her head. “Again.”

“Oh.” Rosie sighs and looks to the ground. “Do you know where he is?” She asks reluctantly.

“No where no sweet thing like you needs to be goin'.”

“I need to get him home. His mother’s worried.”

“She should be. Ain't your mama worried about you out here alone?”

“She said I have to do real women’s work and take care of George as best I can. He’s mine now and I better start acting like it and go… find him.”

The kind woman sighs and feels bad for the poor thing. But it wasn’t an uncommon story. “He’s out at the bar past the county line. Neon sign, bikes out front, can’t miss it. It’s on the right.” She says with a groan.

“Up 25E?” She asks already getting to her feet.

“Yes, baby now be careful. I’m only telling you this because someone’s gotta help you out, honey. Maybe it’s time you helped yourself huh?”

“I’m doing what any good wife and daughter would do ma'am.”

“Life’s not about being good for other people. You have to think about what’s good for you. What do you want? Do you want to marry George?”

“Ma'am what a silly question.”

“That’s not the enthusiastic YES I should be hearing from a bride to be is it?”

Rosie doesn’t know how to reply and just looks worried for a moment with her wide eyes.

“Go before it gets darker baby. Be careful. Take care of yourself.” She says as Rosie scurries across the square to the car.

She did love getting to drive around. Something she’d not been allowed to do until recently. So a trip out of town on a lovely evening was something that got her very excited.

She had held onto that moment of happiness as she drove out of town. A perfect evening with a chill after the sun went down. She could hear frogs and crickets as she left the roads full of cookie-cutter homes and drove into a more forested area.

She had a comfortable smile on her face until the trees cleared for a patch and showed a roadhouse. This had to be the place. She pulled in with a mix match of very nice and very beat down cars. Some buses and small caravans lined along the perimeter. She could hear music coming from inside the metal and wood walls. There were men three times her size all around. They were an odd mix of trendy sleazy men with feathered hair and grizzly biker men and they were all chain-smoking. Everyone looked as confused as she did as she entered the building. If she was polite and direct there was no reason these gentlemen had to give her any trouble. She’d heard about these sorts from her mother. Bikers, greasers, all sinners, and a dirty lot to associate with.

But Rosie had always seen glimpses of people in the magazines. The intense men on their bikes with a scantily clad woman who looked both elated and aroused clutched to his back as they rode through the great American Route 66. They looked like they were having fun, she thought. She thought they looked free and those were things she longed to know how they felt. But there was no room for these things in her life. So although she should be afraid to be around these people, she was actually quite excited. She fantasized with already blushed shy cheeks about striking up a conversation with one of them and finding out what they were really like.

“You lost sweetheart?” The man in glasses with his arms crossed at the door asks her.

“I’m here to fetch my husband- my fiancé.” She corrects herself.

“You with a man that comes to a place like this?”

“His name is George. He is a fan of a strong drink and a cigar. And apparently, his frequenting of this place is something everyone in the town knew about but me.” she admits freely as she wasn’t one to have any reason to hide bits of herself. Everyone could be a friend in her eyes. She entered every interaction with a genuine curiosity it was honestly a bit hard to be rude to her.

“Ah.” He nods and understands. “Go on in, sweetheart” he holds open the door for her and watches her stand and take it all in for a moment. He chuckles and then sighs, “Poor little thing.” he mutters.

Through an old western saloon style inner door she enters with a delighted smile. “How charming!” She says to herself. She walked into a rather large room full of gambling tables. A bar on one end and a stage on the other. Panning over to meet the stage last, she’s hit with a thump of bass in her chest by way of her feet. It rumbled into the floor as she tentatively approached. She’d never seen live music before. She supposed choir and church and talent shows didn’t really count. There were electric guitars and men with no shirts and girls without bras and she was enthralled. She had heard a few rock songs by way of sneaking into a poor reception radio station when she was left alone in the car. She loved it. But it was something only classless people were apart of. Or so she was told. But these people looked the same as those in the magazines. A very tall and dark man played the instrument causing her to experience a very pleasant vibration through her body. He was shirtless and sweating and had a large tattoo on his arm. A chain from his worn dark jeans that bounced with every pluck of his long fingers. Next to him a smaller man, pale and singing with delightfully large blonde curly hair. He sang beautifully she thought. He wore a shirt unbuttoned and tucked into pants so tight she could see a bulge that ripped her from her fantasy of being as cool and free as they were. She turns around quickly and moves towards the bar.

She finds George in his work clothes, the navy not being blotched by black oils and spills told her he also hadn’t been to work. She wears her disappointment in her face clearly for a moment before trying to put on that mask her mother taught her to wear. Never show him that you’re upset. Anger is unseemly on a lady. But this did make her angry. Her red face made it obvious she was holding in red hot emotion. Her smile was hollow and her eyes gave her away.

“Hello, George. I believe it’s time we got home.” She says with a hand to his shoulder.

“How’d you find me here?” He asks with a dramatic turn on his bar stool, and he was in true skunk form.

“A person in town suggested it. Your mother is worried about you. Can we please go home?”

“You can. I’m staying here.”

“Please George I have to get you home. Both our parents expect me to take care of you and that’s what I’m doing.”

“What if I don’t want you to take care of me? Huh? What if I don’t want anything to do with you?”

Her throat felt tight. She was not accustomed to being spoken to in such a way since she was bullied when she was young. The eyes she could feel on her from a growing audience he was causing made her feel all tingly and nervous. He looked at her with disgust and the shame she usually felt was quickly turning into anger in this new over-stimulating environment.

“Do you think I want to be here?”

“Huh?”

“Do you think I wanted to run all the errands myself today for my own wedding? And make excuses for your absence all day and have people look at me with pity. Because they knew you were here. Again from the looks of you.”

“Well, I’m only here because of YOU.” He spits back.

“Me?” She squeaks with growing confidence that makes her take a deep breath and steady herself. “I have been nothing but an ideal fiancé from the beginning of this. YOU asked for this. Not me.”

“I didn’t ask for it! You did!”

They both looked at each other confused. “I was told you asked for my hand.”

“Hell no my parents told me I had to say yes to your parents offer or they’d cut me off and send me to the army.”

They both blink at each other for a moment. “This is…” she takes a shaker breath. “I’m in an arranged marriage.” She whispers and feels a betrayal deep in her chest. She’d been lied to. Her parents lied, her fiancé lied, the whole town and only one person has the decency to tell her where George was. It hurt like a knife might she thought as her hands held fast to her stomach.

“Are you like...retarded too? Ugh geez. Of course, it is! Why would I want to be with a freak like you?”

It’s as if he’d culminated every fear she’d ever had into a single sentence. All her thoughts of not fitting in, of something being wrong with her. She’d been right all along. “Well, I don’t want to be with a mean drunk like you!” She says back with a face that showed her first real emotion in years.

“I am not a drunk.”

“Yes you are! The whole town gossips about it behind your back. Your parents threaten to send you off if you don’t start acting like an adult. You try to take advantage of ME when I’ve never been anything but nice to you! You are MEAN and you are a DRUNK!”

He moves fast and grabs hold of her arms tightly. Enough to make her cry out and wince. “You listen here you little freak of nature. If you’re gonna be with me you’re gonna respect me as a good wife would.”

“Is there a problem here?” The same tall man from the stage asks, towering over George.

“Buzz off bud. This is between me and my girl.”

“It’s not when you talk to her like that, loud enough for whole damn bar to hear and then put your hands on her.

“Why don’t you go and fuck your cousin, you dirty ass hippies.”

The man meets eyes with Rosie and he immediately knew he had to help her. She looked defeated, but a shine of hope that someone, anyone would ever help her out. He knew one of their kind when he saw that look. Just like the group of outcasts he’d gathered over the years since returning home.

“You’re a…” he glances to Rosie who beams innocence in such a way a man like him is forced to protect it. “Jerk.” He decides instead of saying words that might make the victim feel embarrassed.

“He’s an… asshole.” She spits out and feels a wave of rush over her as she curses.

George flinches to hit her and that was enough for the tall stranger. “Alright, you’re killing the vibe, man.” He wraps his neck in a headlock and drags him out of the bar with a shocked Rosie froze for a moment.

“‘Ello there, love.” The singer from before came in. With gentle hands to her shoulders. “You alright? Hurt?”

“N-no.” She stutters.

“Ya sure you’ve gone all rosy in the face.” He fans her with his hand.

“I always am.” She excuses quickly. “Sorry..I-“

“No apologies, let’s get you into the fresh air eh? Don’t worry I’m with the big guy what dragged off that unpleasant twat you were dealing with.”

“Okay.” She says breathily and a little dazed. “Thank you.”

——-

“Well, he’s gone.” The tall one says proudly, clapping his hands.

Rosie stands and looks at the spot where her car had sat. Now empty. “Did he take that yellow car?” She points to the space.

“Yeah, he headed right for it, had the keys.”

She nods and sighs. “I’m afraid that was my car he took.” She looks down the ground to figure out her next move from here, now stranded.

“Oh shit. Oh no, I’m sorry.” The tall man says putting his hands to his mouth. “Ah. Well fuck, honey I really screwed you there didn’t I “

She blinks with her large pale blue eyes at him with tears withheld. A cherub round face that struck a deep nerve as she tried to hide her upset. “You didn’t mean it. You were trying to help.” She says with a slow nod and inhales.

“Bad luck innit.” The other rubs her back comfortingly and she didn’t mind it. He seemed like such a nice man. They both were.

“Can you get a ride home? Call your parents or… something? Or did he just... steal your car?” He towers over her but she doesn’t feel afraid. He rubs his head in thought as he bit his lip.

“I’ll have to call my mother. He’ll go home to his mother I presume.” She nods. “I can retrieve my car tomorrow. Unless he crashes it.” She sighs. “He was terribly drunk.” Her shoulders sink in disappointment.

“Look, we’ll get ya home...what’s your name love?”

“Rose.”

“Oh, that’s a beautiful name innit? For a beautiful girl.” He holds no ill will as he says it and the compliment hits her hard in her emotionally unstable state. Tears well up for someone, a man, a nice man to be so kind to her to say such a nice thing. “Oh no, don’t cry. We'll get you a cab home. It’s no trouble love. Don’t worry ya pretty little head about it eh?”

“You’re so nice.” The tears fall fat over her flushed cheeks.

“Now there’s a good girl.” He brings her in for a hug. “Go call her a car, mate.” He nods away the other fellow.

“I’m so sorry. I’m not usually like this. I’ve had such a bad day.”

“Now let’s sit down here and you can tell Danny all about it now little Rosie.” He shoos some men off a nearby bench to sit her down.

“That your name?” She sniffles

“It is. I’m Danny and that big man was Declan. You’ll be safe with us. Don’t worry. We are protectors of the oppressed.” He chuckles as he puts an arm on her shoulder as she hides her face from the eyes watching.

“Oppressed?”

“Yeah. You know, women… people that are... various beautiful shades of brown, black yellow..." he spoke dramatically with an outstretched hand that captivated her " … homosexuals. You know how it goes, the bad ones yeah? The rebels, the outcasts,  lost children who come across our path.”

“You’re making us sound like a cult man. Don’t scare her.” Declan laughs and stands guard at her other side. “Taxi’ll be here within the hour.” He gives her a warm smile that crinkles around his eyes. Half of it coverd in a beard that was pointed and a bit fuzzy. His hair was like a dark lions mane around his face and shoulders.

Rosie contemplated as she looked up at him and wondered if she’d ever seen a man so tall before.

“He only looks scary,” Danny assures her. “Declan this is Rosie.”

“Pretty name for a pretty girl.” He gives a gentle nod down at her.

“Almost exactly what I told her.” Danny beams.

“Hey Rosie, I’m Declan. Nice to meet you.” He spoke softly and gently as if she might startle if he spoke too loudly at her. “We’re in a band. We travel around. Play music and just...living life y’know. Being free with the life we’ve got.” He spoke proudly as he explained. “We’ve heard a lot of stories. So you aren’t going to tell us anything we’ll judge you for.” He laughs.

“We’ve all done far worse than whatever spot you’ve got yourself in angel.” Danny joins in the laugh.

“I’m sorry to cry I’m just feeling a bit overwhelmed.” She wipes her cheeks. “As I was telling Danny I’ve had a very bad day.”

“Tells us about it then love. Let the evil out.” He motions with his hands as if he were vomiting and it makes her have a soft little giggle. “There she is.” He pushes her chin up gently. “Go on then…”

Her blubbering story hurt them both as she told of isolation and now betrayal and forced marriage to a terrible man. They’d seen it and heard it before, many in their group had a similar past.

“You deserve so much better Rosie love,” Danny says with a broadly shaking head. “You are clearly such a bright and lovely girl with a pure heart and you deserve the same given back to you.”

“I do!” She whines.

“You can change it all. You’ve got the power. They tell us we don’t. That we can’t. But it’s because they’re afraid of us. Afraid that if we knew what power we had as a collective, as they’ve made us all feel so isolated you see? You can have whatever sort of life you want Rosie. You just have to take it.” Dany speaks intently to her with unwavering eye contact.

“Take it?” she sniffles.

“Make the hard choices. You want things to stay like this forever or you want to take a chance and be your own person?” Declan asks with high brows. He had the tougher approach and Danny handled the whimsy of things, it suited their personalities.

“Like...refuse to marry him?”

“Not just that. You can refuse to stay with your parents.”

Rosie laughs as if he’s joking.

“I’m serious. You could go and live anywhere you wanted. Did you even know that?”

“No. I thought….”

“You can make your own choices Rosie,” Declan says as he sees the cab arrive. “You could see the world. Meet anyone. Do anything. ”

“That… sounds too good to be true.” she looks down at the ground as they walk her towards the car.

“It’s what we did,” Declan turns to face her. “We didn’t like our lives so we just...changed them. I wanted music and freedom and to be around people who understood me.”

“We eventually found each other. And our little family has grown ever since.” Danny holds his home like an adoring mum seeing away their daughter on the bus.

“Family?”

“We’re just a bunch of misfits that are trying to find our place in this crazy world.” Danny shrugs. “Some of us play music and some just follow us in the summertime to escape their lives. Some just like life on the road. We’ve got all sorts. Certainly had a few girls with stories like yours.”

“Really?” she rubs her cheeks.

“We aren’t saying you have to join us. We’re just saying you can make your own choices... have whatever sort of life you want. That’s all. You seemed like you could use the help.”

“I could.” she lets out a heavy, thoughtful sigh. “Thank you. Both. You were very helpful. I can’t really repay you.”

“Start making YOURSELF happy Rosie. That’ll be payment enough. You deserve it, pet.” Danny waves her goodbye.

“Don’t let the man get you down little Rosie.” Declan Nods her way as she gets in the cab to head home.

—————

The cab drive home was the most peace she was going to know for the next 24 hours. It started with the cops being at her house when she got there. George had been arrested after being taken to the hospital for injuries from wrecking her car. He was being held and charged and poor Rosie thought she might pass out.

George’s mother paced and shouted in their house late into the night. Wailing about her “poor” son. What did she do to him to make him behave in such a way? Denial was not just a river she'd read about in the encyclopedias she'd gotten for Christmas.

Her own mother joined in, what did she do? How was she going to fix this? Why didn’t she have the money to bail him out? She raised her better than this.

Rosie sat and took it. But each biting remark only made that funny feeling in her stomach grow as each verbally slapped her over and over.

“Did you ever consider you’re yelling at the wrong person?” She finally says back quietly.

“For god's sake girl don’t mumble and slouch! It’s ugly!”

She had been told she was pretty tonight and told she could be and do whatever she wanted. Things she’d never heard before. There were people out there that wouldn’t treat her like this. This isn’t what she wanted. She wouldn’t survive a life like this, it would hollow her out into a shell of who she really was.

“I said, Did you ever consider you’re yelling at the wrong person?” Her brow was now creased and a rare sight it was. “Did you ever consider your son is a drunk? A hateful loser who has been breastfed too long by his mother?!” She sass’s with balled fists in the meanest and most insulting thing she’d ever said came out of her mouth confidently. “And you! I don’t have any money because you won’t let me work! You won’t let me leave! Or even LIVE!” She throws her arms up in the air. “You’re being bullies when I’m the ONLY one that tried to DO something and HELP him. And this is what I get? No. No more. I don’t have to put up with this...this… BOLOGNA!” She yells and stomps to her room, slamming the door and leaving a room of shocked faces behind. Her father in the kitchen almost choked on the beer he was trying to secretly down to deal with the situation. It was beer and not even liquor what was he becoming?

Rosie falls to her bed and cries and hits the pillows as her door is quickly bombarded with screeches on the other side. Demands of her to come out and apologize and she just kept shouting “NO!” Over and over to their requests. She took all of her suitcases and laid them on the bed, the voices on the other side growing tired and falling quieter and they tried to listen to what she was doing. She threw her life into those cases. All her favorite things, things she might need, she stuffed them full and sat on them to get them to shut. She angrily pens a letter. Telling them she was tired of being oppressed and lied to and she was going to make herself happy and never see them again. She still signed it with a heart.

She gets out of her bedroom window and makes her way to the car with the dented fender and busted windows the cops had returned to them. She throws in her bags and whispers a prayer it will start. Someone was looking out for her. She could see the sources of the yelling running out of the house behind her as she headed out of the subdivision. She’d never felt more alive.

She practically drifted into the gravel parking lot at the roadhouse and held tears of joy from her escape and the fact that the buses and vans were still in sight. The bus was headed out of the parking lot. She leaves the car with the keys in the ignition and straps her bags and suitcases up and runs as fast as her feet will carry her toward the van left in the line.

“WAIT!” She shouts and pants. “PLEASE WAIT!!” She lets out a scream she didn’t know she had in her. Her lungs burned and her blood pumped faster than it ever had as the van door rolled open. “I’m coming with you!”

“Is that?” Declan snorts out an amused sound

“Well fuck me it’s that little girl again.” Danny muses as he looks out the door. “Slow down mate, we got a castaway.”

“Being. Chased. Keep going.”

“Chased?” Danny laughs. “By who?” The thought of someone being in pursuit of this tiny white field mouse amused him to no end.

“I RAN AWAY!” she laughs as she throws her bags to the filled van and is ran full force as the van gets to the highway and she’s yanked inside. The door slams shut behind her and she’s left wheezing and trying to fix her dress and hair.

“Come now little bird, have a seat.” Danny pulls her down on the bean bag he’s sat on.

“I. Ran.” She pants out and Danny and Declan laugh but the other eyes in the van are looking at her confused.

“From the cops?” Someone asks concerned

“No.” She clears her throat and takes a deep breath as she calms down. “From my house.”

“Was it as bad as you thought it was gonna be?” Danny pushes back her hair.

“Worse.” She lets out a nervous laugh. “I can... I can come with you guys right?” She says with puppy eyes.

“Welcome to our merry little crew Rosie bug.” Danny beams.

“I ran away too.” Another girl with long beautiful wavy hair says from her spot in the open-backed van, now crowded full. “Husband? Parents?”

“Both.” Rosie nods and they share a sympathetic nod of understanding.

“I’m glad you came Rosie.” the girl's eyes showed strong empathy and it made Rosie certain she'd made the right decision.

“I am too.” She finally catches her breath. “So…” she primps for a moment to gather herself. “Where are we off to first?”

@vale0413 @littledeadgirlwalking @jaegeeeeer @phillipkopusimagines-and-stuff @mjolnir96 @xmother-mortemx @this-isnt-madness  @thors-hair-extensions @divadinag @s-h-e-w-r-i-t-e-s​

[dudeandduchess]

Your Kyojuro imagines are absolutely amazing! You have a great writing style, and put so much detail into everything. Pure gold! I hope you don't mind me asking, but could I request a Kyojuro x reader too? Maybe him falling for a time travel reader form the future? (whether its accidental travel or not idc) Please and thank you. Gonna go back to binging your work now, hope your day has been good 💕

Hello, bby! Thank you so, so much! I’m so flattered that you think of my writing like that. Ahhhh! Ooh, I don’t mind at all. I hope you like it! I may or may not have cried while writing this.

***

Kyōjurō with a Time Traveling Reader (SFW Scenario):

Warning: Angst. Bittersweet (???) Ending

Out of all the places that she could have been on a weekend, the last place she expected to have been dragged to was the Shinto graveyard where her family’s plot resided.

It had been years since she last visited the grim burial site, and for good reason: she didn’t like being surrounded by so much negative energy. Souls tended to cling tightly to her, especially when they knew that she could see them.

And that was the last thing she wanted to happen. Not again; not after the last incident where a spirit followed her home.

However, no matter how much she wanted to tell her mother that she wasn’t interested in cleaning up her ancestors’ graves, she couldn’t. Because she wanted to keep her head, thank you very much.

So, when (Y/n) finally arrived at her family’s burial plot, the first thing she noticed was the ornate box that rested at the foot of the obelisk. “What’s with the box?”

“Oh that. Another family gave it to us years ago. Apparently, their great-great-great uncle wanted someone from our clan to have it,” Her mother answered flippantly, before beginning to unload all of the cleaning supplies she’d brought in her bag.

All throughout the day, the young woman listened to her mother hem and haw at the most trivial topics. They cleaned every inch of the grave, but all the while she kept looking back at the box and consistently thought about what it could have held inside.

“What’s inside? Did you check?” She asked once more, when she couldn’t take the curiosity burning inside her.

It was as if the contents of the box kept calling out to her. So she had to know what was in it. Something was compelling her to open it, but she wasn’t going to defile a family heirloom if the contents would have been something not worthy of her time.

“Oh, just a very eccentric, flame-like haori... and a letter to an unnamed woman,” The older (L/n) answered with a smile. “Whomever that woman was in our family, she was one lucky girl. To have someone love you that much... not even your father was as sweet.”

A flame-like haori? She had never seen one before, but something deep in her mind told her that she had. In some other place, and a completely different time, she had seen someone who wore that haori with pride.

But why did she feel like that? She was just twenty-one; on the cusp of becoming twenty-two. Surely the earliest signs of aging didn’t come in until thirty five.

“Can I have a look at it?” She ended up asking her mother.

And when her mother nodded her assent, (Y/n) immediately took the box into her lap and lifted the lid.

Lo and behold, the sight of a neatly folded haori greeted her eyes. She carefully lifted it out of the box, as the cloth looked to be worn down— even in its pristine condition; as pristine as it could get, anyway.

But the moment she had completely unfurled it, everything went black.

***

And when she came to, she was not in a graveyard anymore.

Instead, high wooden beams greeted her when she opened her eyes. She was also tucked beneath a thick comforter— and in place of the jeans and shirt that she wore was a yukata.

“Oh good, you’re finally awake. Please stay where you are. I’ll call aniki,” A little boy with the craziest eyebrows that she’d ever seen— who couldn’t have been more than ten— greeted her happily.

Even though his eyebrows were the initial things that garnered her attention, her mind lingered on his term: ‘Aniki’.

Was she somehow kidnapped by a gang? Her family wasn’t rich, nor did she have a highly sought-after job, so it was highly unlikely for a gang to take interest in her.

But before she could sit upright and call out to the kid, he was already gone. And when he came back, he had with him a man who looked so handsome that he made (Y/n)’s mouth go dry.

The enigmatic man looked too handsome for words, and the smile that played at his lips only served to add more to his charm.

It didn’t take a genius to know that he’d immediately caught her attention: hook, line, and sinker.

“Who are you? What am I doing here? Did you kidnap me? What do you want from me? And what in the world are you wearing? Are you a soldier?” Her questions flew at rapid pace from her lips, which the man received with ease. His smile never even faltered, while his brother slowly hid behind him.

“One question at a time, beautiful flower.” In any other setting, the words would have made her swoon, but it just further threw (Y/n) through a loop.

“One minute I was cleaning a grave with my mother, and the next I’m here. But where exactly is here?”

“Here? You’re in Matsusaka.”

The young woman’s eyes almost bugged out of her head at that. “How did I get here? I was in Sendai earlier! What did you do?”

That seemed to bring pause to her host’s thoughts, and his eyebrows furrowed slightly as he mulled her words over in his mind. “I found you unconscious in the middle of a rice field. A cow was eating your hair.”

Immediately, (Y/n) ran a hand through her hair, only to notice that it was noticeably choppier than before. “W-what about my clothes. What did you do to my clothes?”

“You were already wearing that yukata when I found you.”

A sigh of relief crossed the woman’s lips, because she could rest assured that no one had changed her in her sleep. Unless her apparent savior was lying.

But after careful explanation, (Y/n) finally found out that she wasn’t only transported miles away from her home, but to an entirely different era. From the Reiwa Era, she had been thrown back to the Taishō Era.

Her concerns were immediately made more evident to her, like how to get home, and how to tell her mother that she was fine, and where to begin with the search for getting back home.

But her greatest dilemma was something that she didn’t want to admit outright: she was falling in love with the man who’d saved her— Rengoku Kyōjurō.

He was everything she’d ever wanted in a man, and so much more. On top of that, he was kind enough to let her stay at his home— even though his father was very leery of her.

Despite all of that though, he still treated her like she was something to truly behold. He always reminded her to get some rest whenever she got tired, and he would constantly send her letters when he was away.

It was his handsome façade that drew her to him at first, but it was ultimately his caring nature that made her feelings stay.

And more often than not, she always found them acting like lovers. She knew that it was unwise to have kept acting that way, but she couldn’t resist.

It had started with simple lingering touches, until it escalated into hand holding, then kissing... and then so much further than that. She’d given him all that there was to her, yet they had never confirmed their feelings.

There was just a mutual understanding between them. Because both of them knew that (Y/n) would eventually have to leave.

(Y/n) knew that it was wrong of her to do so, but she found herself wishing to never return to her old life— if it meant growing old and building a family with Kyōjurō.

But one night, (Y/n) was awoken to an ill feeling in her gut. She immediately sat upright, which woke Kyōjurō from his own slumber.

Her throat was tight, and her heart felt like it was being held in a vise-like grip. The edges of her vision were turning blurry with the lack of oxygen in her lungs, but she tried to push through the feeling— and failed.

Something inside her told her that that was it; it was time for her to leave.

It wasn’t even the physical pain that had her breaking down in tears, all while Kyōjurō held her in his arms. He picked her up gently, and was about to run out of the house to take her somewhere... anywhere that could help her, but he was brought to a halt when the bitter realization dawned on him:

No one would know how to help (Y/n).

It was the first time in Kyōjurō’s life that he’d felt helpless; and it wasn’t a good feeling at all. Especially when the woman in his arms started to slowly fade away; as if she was never meant to exist in his world.

Because that was the truth. She didn’t belong in his time. She never did.

He couldn’t even tell her that he loved her.

He didn’t even realize that he was crying, until he opened his mouth to speak and all that came out was a strangled sob.

But it was too late for him to say the words, because (Y/n) was no longer in his arms.

***

When (Y/n) came to, she had found herself clutching the flame-like haori to her chest, as tears streamed down her cheeks.

And with one shaky hand, she let go of the aged cloth to pick up the neatly folded letter that had fallen to the floor.

Part of her didn’t want to open it knowing that it had always been meant for her, but another part of her wanted to read her beloved Kyōjurō’s words. She wanted to know what he had to say.

So she opened the frayed piece of paper, and what she read brought more tears to her eyes.

Hello My Beautiful Flower,

Wipe those tears away, my love. Please. I’ve always loved seeing your smile; so please, smile for me. After all, it’s what has gotten me through my days ever since that night.

I’m a man with very few regrets, but the one thing I’ve regretted the most was not telling you how much I loved you. From the very first moment I saw you in that field, I knew I was in trouble of falling so deeply for you.

Please, always remember that wherever you might be... and wherever we both may end up, I will always be with you. I promise you that I will always look after you, wherever my next life takes me.

Whether it takes me my next life, or my next hundred lives, I will always come back to you. Because my heart is eternally yours. You keep the flame inside me burning so strongly.

Our time together may have been short, but my love for you transcends time and space; and it will always remain that way.

Forever Yours,

Kyōjurō

[strawberrysoup]

Let’s Review || Chapter 10

Peter Parker knew that his big sister would do anything for him to be safe and happy. She’d given up everything for him twice over already and would do it again in a heartbeat. And that’s why, when the criminal mastermind Tony Stark started inextricably following him around, he didn’t say a word. Because he knew without a doubt Penny would do whatever she had to if it meant keeping Peter safe. He had to protect her, just like she always protected him. He never considered what would happen if Stark decided both Parker siblings were worth taking. Never considered who else in Stark’s inner circle would agree. He just wanted to protect her and yet somehow, they both ended up with needles in their necks.

relationship: Steve Rogers/Original Female Character/Bucky Barnes, background Peter Parker/Tony Stark rating: Explicit/18+ warnings: Dark Steve Rogers, Dark Bucky Barnes, Dark Tony Stark, Dark Avengers, kidnapping, non-con/dub-con elements, underage Peter Parker, emotional and psychological abuse, very dark 

Penny never had difficulty sleeping. She was exhausted 90% of the time, between three jobs and everything that went into raising Peter, and could take a nap whenever the opportunity arose. It was a joke amongst all of her coworkers, that if you gave Penny an idle 10 minutes, she'd find a place to curl up and nap. She could sleep 16 hours straight happily if given the chance. 

Insomnia wasn't a part of her life. It was why finding herself unable to sleep was shocking to her entire system. The day of her punishment she took a nap and that was the last time she slept more than an hour at a time for the next three days. She wasn't sure if it was the fear and anxiety or the stress or any other combination of things, but she simply couldn't sleep. 

She didn't know if her kidnappers had noticed, strangely enough. They watched her constantly, tracking her movements and making notes of her habits, but never mentioned her sleep patterns. Or her eating patterns, for that matter. 

When Steve got up in the mornings, she waited about half an hour before getting out of bed herself. While he went for a workout, she pulled all of the curtains back from the floor to ceiling windows in the living room and laid on the floor in the sunshine. It was the only time she really slept soundly for longer than 20 or 30 minutes. By the third day, when she got up and went into the living room, the curtains had already been pulled back and the couch cushions were arranged like a pallet on the floor where she usually lay. An apple, which she had a tendency to grab in the mornings to hold her over until breakfast because half the time the only kosher food in the kitchen was fruit or vegetables, was already washed and cut and set on the coffee table. 

They never said anything about what she ate, even when Bucky made large, intricate meals and she avoided most of it. The first night he made spaghetti and meatballs with a side salad and she'd only eaten the salad. The second night had been pork chops and pasta salad— she'd dug out the last of the salad from the previous meal and a bit of the pasta before realizing there was bacon in it. Honestly she was starving, there was hardly anything kosher in the apartment and she was living off vegetables. 

Her captors were strange dudes. Sometimes they seemed chivalrous to a fault, set in some sort of bizarre gender stereotype; they would never sit before she did or start eating until she took her first bite. But Steve didn't like when she cursed or rolled her eyes and Bucky told her smoking wasn't ladylike when she asked for cigarettes. There was a weird dichotomy where they desperately wanted her to be happy in her imprisonment but simultaneously wanted to micromanage her behavior. 

After the fourth near sleepless night, she’d once again retreated to the living room once she was sure Steve had left. The spot in front of the windows was comforting for some reason, the warmth of the sun was encompassing like a hug but didn’t require touch. It felt safer than anywhere else in the apartment. 

She slept for at least an hour and only woke up to the sound of JARVIS playing a chime every few seconds, the noise slowly increasing in volume. As she blinked, slightly disoriented by the sound, and realized she was no longer laying on the cushions. At some point while she was asleep Bucky had managed to wedge his way beneath her, leaving her to lie on his chest. His arms were raised on either side of her head like he was holding something over her and the top of her head brushed his chin. 

At that point, her body didn’t even bother to instinctually tense. Even after such a short period of time, the panic response had lost its grip in the face of resentful acceptance. 

“Good morning, doll,” Bucky’s voice was a rumble beneath her more than a sound and she heard a page turning above her, “I can see why you like to lay here.” 

Penny didn’t bother answering, tired eyes tracking his movements as he lowered his arms and put a book on the floor. He didn’t look tired at all with his hair carefully pulled back into an artfully messy bun, fully dressed despite the fact that it couldn’t have been past 7 am. It was unfair how attractive they were, considering the position they had put her in. She’d never even considered a man bun atttractive before for fucks’ sake. After a short moment, his hands came back up to cup her face. 

Knowing the kiss was coming didn’t make it any easier to process or mentally prepare for. She didn’t want him to, it was disgusting, how dare he kiss her— but it was also so nice. Bucky was a really good kisser, both of the soldiers were, and it sent tingles down her sprine every time. The warmth from the sunshine was amplified by the feeling until it seeped into her veins and rendered her boneless against him. 

“Really good morning,” Bucky smiled against her lips, brushing his nose against hers as he pulled away enough to look at her, “Steve’s gonna be out of the shower in a few and we’ll head up to breakfast. Go get dressed.” 

Penny nodded in response, dazed, and let him pick her up and set her to the side of the pallet where it was easier to stand. The bedroom was still mostly dark, the heavy curtains drawn and the only light coming from the partially open bathroom door. The shower was running and she could hear Steve moving around as she walked to the dresser. 

There was a drawer dedicated to the softest clothing they’d purchased for Penny and she was especially taken with the shirts in it. They felt like ultra thin, soft cotton but were actually rather thick and warm. She pulled out a black one with long sleeves and traded it for the t-shirt she’d slept in. The same pair of jeans she’d worn the previous day followed and she tugged off her socks, prefering to go barefoot just because she could tell it bothered Steve. 

She stepped past the blond in question just as he came out of the bathroom, pretending not to notice the once over he gave her. The assholes weren’t exactly subtle, probably didn’t see the need to be. Bucky was waiting by the elevators when she walked into the living room, motioning over with the metal hand.

It had been days but she still hadn’t gotten up the courage to ask about the arm. Steve and Bucky both treated it like a completely normal arm, as if it wasn’t a super strong and incredibly high tech prosthetic, and she was afraid to mention it. Instead she tried to make sure she didn’t look at it for too long, or hesitate when he touched her with it just in case it made him angry. 

“Ready for breakfast baby?” He wrapped the arm around her shoulders and tugged her into his chest, ducking his head down to kiss her cheek. 

“Yeah,” Penny murmured, eyes tracking Steve as he also left the bedroom and crossed the room, kissing them each soundly before calling JARVIS to bring the elevator.

Penny had forced herself to become comfortable with any display of affection that came directly before getting to see Peter, just in case they decided to throw a hissy fit at her rejection and refuse to take her to breakfast. Despite the fact that she'd been promised she could see her brother multiple times a day, it had been limited to breakfast. She asked at least 20 times a day, can I see Peter now? I want to see Peter. I want to see my brother. They brushed her off every time, made some sort of excuse. 

It was part of their plan to make the siblings 'adapt' to their new lives. Penny could read between the lines and knew they didn't want them together too often to avoid any plotting. If they couldn't communicate enough to make an escape plan, they probably wouldn't try. It made sense, the clever bastards, but not being able to see her brother was wearing her down. Combined with the lack of sleep, she was beginning to feel more and more distraught. 

JARVIS was a small, unexpected saving grace. She wasn't sure why, but the AI would give her updates on Peter if she asked. Is Peter okay? Yes, Ms. Parker, he is currently in the lab. Is Peter okay? Yes, Ms. Parker, he is taking a nap at the moment. Is Peter okay? Yes, Ms. Parker, he is watching the original Star Wars trilogy. 

As they rode in the elevator up a few levels to what she'd come to realize was Stark's floor, she could see a very small red light in the upper corner. JARVIS was always watching, monitoring things like heart rate and temperature. He understood Hebrew if she spoke in it and would answer in kind, giving her a sort of privacy from the men boxing in her. The AI wasn't on her side per say, but the little things he did helped keep her from going crazy. 

When the doors opened, Penny didn't wait for the men to move before she began on her way to the kitchen. She would sit in a chair, despite the incredible amounts of pain it caused after her punishment, but would be transferred to someone's lap almost immediately. Likely Bucky, since they seemed to take turns and Steve had held her yesterday. They wanted to hold her and feed her. It restricted her movements, kept her farther from Peter, and drove her batshit insane. 

She quickly sat in the chair closest to her brother, forcing herself not to wince in pain and reached out for his hand. Peter was coping much better than she was, it was plain on his face and otherwise in his appearance. He didn't look happy necessarily, but he was sleeping and eating regularly. There was no visible cringe when Stark touched him, which she assumed meant the man hadn't hurt him. 

Penny had been considering for days what she would do if she walked into the kitchen one morning and found Peter injured. She was about .02 seconds from losing it at any second as it was, if she ever suspected Peter was hurt she would go ape shit. The goal would be to take Stark out as efficiently as possible— she'd likely only have one chance. She was pretty sure shoving a fork through his eye would be as effective as anything else. 

"You know, you get a very particular look on your face when you're considering killing me." 

Penny looked away from Peter just in time to see Stark before he swept her up out of her chair and sat down with her in his lap. Being as small as she was, it made manhandling her pretty easy in comparison to say, Peter, who despite being skinny was tall and ungainly to lift and carry around.

"Tony," Bucky sounded displeased but Stark waved him off. 

"My turn Winter Wizard," the older man snarked, tugging her snugly back against the line of his chest, "I love Penny too." 

Love. Stark didn't love Penny. She was half convinced he didn't even understand the concept, had it so thoroughly confused with obsession that he couldn't comprehend what love was. Love was selfless and unconditional, it was supposed to bring joy and comfort. Nothing about Stark's actions were any of those things, didn't provide a feeling of happiness and safety. Sitting in his lap was like sitting on a live landmine.

"What're your plans for today sweetheart? Peter wants to spend some time in the lab with Bruce— honestly I think he likes biology more than engineering, can you believe that?" 

Penny didn't answer, watching from the corner of her eye as Steve and Bucky sat down in the chairs around them. Steve sat opposite of Peter at the head of the table while Bucky took a seat to the teenager’s right, across from Penny and Stark. There was another comprehensive breakfast spread across the table, a quiche, pancakes, scrambled eggs with cheese and ham, fresh fruit, sausage and bacon.

Every time they loaded plates for her, Penny found herself turning her nose up at at least half of it. She was pretty sure they were unaware that the siblings were Jewish, either that or they were too stupid to realize there were dietary restrictions involved in the religion. Peter was more lax than Penny, he didn't remember their parents as much and aunt May and uncle Ben hadn't been religious, but she still ate kosher about 75% of the time. Plus, most kosher foods just felt more ethical and humane. 

Not that the mother fuckers who'd kidnapped them had any idea what it meant to be ethical. Or humane for that matter. 

"Penny, words," it wasn’t an order necessarily but she'd come to realize over the few days she had been in the tower that Steve's tone left no room for disobedience. 

"I don’t have any plans," she tried not to overtly grit her teeth in irritation. 

Any other day she'd be at the daycare until 1ish, taking care of the babies. After that she'd go to her barista job and after that, she went to the grocery store to stock shelves over night. Penny didn't have downtime, she didn't have hobbies, she didn't do anything during the day other than work. Maybe that's why she wasn't sleeping at all; she wasn't doing anything. Certainly not half as much as usual. 

"Well, what would you like to do? What do you do for fun?" 

Simmering anger began to build under Penny's skin but before she could answer (and potentially get herself into trouble), Peter jumped in, "Penny used to knit. And you liked gardening, right? When we lived in the house you had all those plants and the garden out back." 

"Ma's garden," Penny twitched her nose, the movement preventing a facial expression from settling and giving away her emotions— she tried not to think of the garden, or the house they'd lived in before the accident, it made her too sad. 

"Bite, sweetheart," Tony directed when she went quiet, refusing to elaborate. 

The food on the fork was a piece of the quiche, something with spinach and cheese and bacon, and Penny shook her head. The bacon was bad enough, but putting dairy with it as well was too much for her to stomach. Stark hesitated for a moment before sighing heavily and putting the fork down, forcing Penny to turn slightly in his lap to face him.

"You have to eat, sweetheart," he looked just a shade short of irritated and a thrill ran through her, a mix of fear that he might hurt her if he got mad enough combined with dark satisfaction that her actions were having an effect on him even if unintentionally, "you're too skinny as it is and you can't keep refusing food."

"I won't eat it," she stated quietly, resolution in her tone.

The only things on the table she would truly be willing to eat were the fruits and the pancakes. The quiche had cheese and bacon, the eggs had cheese and ham, and the individual meats were pork. For some reason, the bites of food she wanted were few and far between compared to the dishes she couldn't eat. 

"It's not an option baby," Bucky's voice was soft and imploring. 

Irritation climbed up her throat. She wasn’t on a hunger strike, she wasn’t being difficult. They were the ones who'd snatched her up against her will without considering her needs and wants. They were the ones at fault and fuck if she was going to— 

"That's not kosher," Peter quickly pointed to the quiche, followed by the scramble,  "that's not either. The pancakes might not be either depending on the eggs. Penny will eat the fruit." 

"You guys eat kosher?" Bucky and Steve both looked startled and she'd bet Tony did too. 

She didn't realise they were all considering what they knew about Peter; Tony had taken the boy out to eat multiple times in the months before bringing the siblings to the tower and there'd never been any sign of a special diet. They were Jewish, yes, but Tony could clearly remember the teenager eating bacon cheeseburgers and shrimp alfredo. 

"I don't but Penny does."

Since they'd brought her into the apartment, the soldiers hadn't paid too much attention to what she ate. Salads mostly, pasta. They hadn't focused on what she was eating, just the quantity of what she ate. 

"Ms. Parker regularly checks with me before consuming anything," JARVIS announced to the silent room. 

Maybe part of the reason Penny wasn't sleeping was because she was hungry. Honestly she was always sort of hungry, Peter having plenty to eat was more important than her eating regularly, but she'd been really hungry over the past few days.

"Penny why didn't you say anything?" Steve looked stricken and Bucky's face was ashen; he'd even talked to Wanda about kosher foods before they'd assumed the Parker's didn't eat a specific diet. 

"Why didn't I tell my kidnappers that I follow a religious diet? I wonder."

The words were scathing and spoken with a hiss of disdain that had their shoulders raising automatically. Bucky and Steve both shrunk back slightly and Stark went still behind her. She even managed to get out of his arms without a fight, standing up and heading for the elevator without hesitation. 

"...Penny?" 

"I'm going to take a shower, leave me alone!" 

She was so angry and fucking exhausted and hungry. Irrationally, it felt like storming off after having an argument with family instead of the true life villains she was surrounded by. She felt like a teenager storming off after fighting with her parents. Shockingly, they really let her go. The elevator doors opened and closed for her, even though she was alone. 

"Shall I bring you to your apartment Ms. Parker?" 

"It's not like I can go anywhere else," her voice was tearful and she bit the inside of her cheek, refusing to cry. 

But instead of moving, the elevator stayed still for an abnormal amount of time. She assumed JARVIS was waiting for the soldiers to arrive. 

"Perhaps you would like to go to the kitchens, miss?" 

"The kitchens?"

"Yes miss, I've spoken to one of the chefs who is more than happy to make all necessary adjustments to the kitchen to facilitate a kosher diet. New equipment is being brought in to prevent cross contamination and an order was sent to the runners for kosher foods which should arrive in less than an hour. In the meantime, Chef Cohen is gathering the necessities to make a kosher breakfast from what is currently on hand." 

Penny immediately burst into tears against her will, entirely overwhelmed. The tower was a goddamn nightmare, she was trapped and more often than not separated from her brother, but JARVIS was slowly becoming one of her favourite people (even if he wasn't really a person) in the world. Because JARVIS talked to her in Hebrew and told her about Peter when she asked and helped her figure out what she could eat and played movies on the wall all night while she was stuck in bed. 

He couldn't help her escape, he was a computer program at the mercy of his protocols, but he did more for her than anyone else. 

"Yes please JARVIS," Penny managed to get out through her tears, pressing her palms against her eyes gently, "thank you JARVIS." 

"You are most welcome Ms. Parker, your happiness is my priority." 

"It is?"

"My protocol is to make sure Mr. Parker and Master Stark are happy. In order to do so, I must make sure you are happy miss." 

Penny wasn't smart. She didn't have a high IQ, never finished college, would never qualify for anything more than a dead end job. But she was good at reading between the lines. Finding unconventional solutions to problems was a skill of hers. JARVIS might not be able to intentionally help her escape, but he might help her on accident without even realizing it.

It wasn't a plan, not yet, but it was a tool in her arsenal she never expected to have. And she would use it to her advantage as soon as possible. 

"Sir, Ms. Parker is currently on her way down to the kitchens were Chef Cohen is preparing a kosher meal. He has also compiled a comprehensive list of kosher foods to be kept in the kitchen at all times." 

"He made a list? Why didn't you do it J?"

"He's Jewish," Peter answered before JARVIS had a chance, shrinking back slightly when three pairs of eyes leveled on him suddenly. 

"Have you met him? He shouldn't have come up to this floor."

Sometimes Peter forgot that gentiles didn't recognize Jewish surnames, "he… didn't. His last name is Cohen. That's one of the most Jewish names I can think of." 

He couldn't be sure, there was a high chance that Peter was hallucinating, but it was possible that Tony Stark was blushing. Like, it was possible but Peter was pretty sure his eyes must've been playing tricks on him. Tony made him blush a million times a day, it was never the other way around. A small thrill ran through him, had he made Tony turn red? 

"Peter, is there anything else like this that we should know?" 

Steve's voice drew him out of his reverie and Peter directed his attention at the blond, "like what?" 

"Like things Penny doesn't like, or will upset her?" 

Peter nodded in understanding, "like abducting her and keeping her against her will?" 

"Peter!" Tony was trying to admonish him but his tone was full of laughter.

Bucky leveled the teenager with a vaguely amused expression, "Tony was the one who kidnapped her."

"Yeah but she hated him on principle before that, you guys she learned to hate." 

"Okay, moving on," Tony waved his hand dismissively before the soldier could respond, "J, let Cohen know he's officially Penny's personal chef. I want him available any time she's hungry, any time she wants a snack. I'll up his pay, but if Penny gets up at 3am and wants some ridiculously complicated meal, he'll be dragging his ass out of bed to make it." 

"Understood sir."

Bucky absently stared towards the doorway Penny had disappeared through, "I could figure out kosher cooking." 

"Let the professionals handle it, Bucky Bear," Tony snorted slightly before turning his attention to Peter, "is she allergic to anything?"

"I'm not sure, we think she had an allergic reaction to something a while back she never went to the doctor or anything," Peter took a huge bite of his pancakes.

"She hasn't been to the doctor in a long time has she?" Bucky frowned, considering the implications. 

"Or the dentist," Peter nodded. 

"We'll have Bruce do a complete work up, just to be safe. We’ll get dentist in here too. J?" 

"Dr. Banner would be happy to see Penny anytime today and I am sending a request to your own dentist sir."

"Tell Bruce we'll head his way once Penny finishes eating," Steve had a tendency to look up at the ceiling occasionally when speaking to JARVIS despite knowing he wasn't up there, "will you let us know once she's done? I want to give her some time to calm down."

"Once she has finished her meal I will direct her Dr. Banner's lab—" 

"J, you'll tell them when," Tony ordered, quickly noticing the way his AI tried to steer his words, "the soldiers will accompany her. Going down to the kitchen by herself was a stretch, she can't be wandering around unattended this soon."

"She was hungry, sir." 

Steve and Bucky exchanged a glance; the AI sounded defensive but there was a derisive tone to him as well, aimed at the soldiers. They were the ones supposed to be taking care of Penny and yet she was hungry. JARVIS was unimpressed with them and had a surprisingly strong attachment to Penny after such a short time. 

"Yeah, yeah, J, just let them know a few minutes before she's done eating," Tony turned his attention to Peter, "baby, why don't you go take a shower before we head to the lab?" 

Peter felt his eyebrows furrow in confusion. Usually, showering before going to the lab was sort of a waste. They'd get sweaty and gross by the end of it and need another shower anyway. He hoped he wasn't blushing— usually Tony took a long bath with him when they were done in the lab. 

"We're still gonna take a bath together baby, don't look so sad," the salacious look on the older man's face had Peter quickly darting to his feet, face on fire as he ran off. 

Tony waited until the teenager was out of earshot to turn a very dark look on the soldiers, "wanna explain how the fuck you haven't known for two full fucking days that Penny won't eat anything that's not kosher?"

"Tony—" 

"No, actually," he waved his hand before Steve could finish speaking, "I don't care what you have to say. You're going to listen." 

He wasn't older in literal years, but Tony's consciousness was older than the soldiers' and in that moment he felt those years. He stood from the table, coffee mug in hand and took a few steps towards the counter. In general, Tony considered his friend’s to be his family. They were important to him, he wanted them to be happy and healthy and cared for. But Peter was his world and because of that, Penny was too. Her happiness usurped theirs. 

“I gave you both the opportunity to take Penny, the way I took Peter,” he took a sip of coffee, tapping his fingers against the expensive marble countertop, “I knew from the way you talked about her, that you loved her the way I love Peter. But I didn’t want to. Honestly, I wanted to keep her tucked away where I can keep her safe and happy. I knew I could do a better job than you, but I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt.” 

Tony dumped his coffee into the sink, setting the mug in after and running some water into it. Around 10am a housekeeper would come in a clean up after breakfast, leaving the dishes that lived in the house and taking the rest down to the kitchens. He liked to keep everything as spotless as possible because his brain was a pretty big disaster at the best of times and clutter didn’t help. 

“You’re very quickly losing it,” he held his hand up when Steve went to speak, “shut up, I don’t want to hear it. Right now you’re listening. This is strike one. Penny is upset and she’s been hungry for the last two full days. Somehow, despite being around her constantly, you didn’t realize that. You better figure out what else you’re not realizing because if I feel like Penny isn’t thriving, I’m going to take her back whether you like it or not.” 

[justxjericho]

BASIC INFORMATION 

Full Name: Jericho Aleksandr Novak

Nickname(s): Jer, J

Age: 29

Date of Birth: March 23, 1991

Hometown: Red Ridge, NV

Current Location: Red Ridge, NV

Gender: cis male

Pronouns: he/him

Sexuality: homosexual, homoromantic

Religion: agnostic

Occupation: security at the Phoenix

Language(s) Spoken: English

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Face Claim: Noel Fisher

Hair Colour: black

Eye Colour: blue

Height: 5’8”

Tattoos: a lot. “F U C K U - U P” across his knuckles, ‘V’ for Valencia on the side of his neck. See pinterest at bottom for more.

Piercings: none

Clothing Style: grungy, cut off shirts, layered flannels over t-shirts, ripped jeans, old sweatpants, torn hoodies, converse, worn boots, etc. 

Distinguishing Characteristics: tattoos on arms, hands, and neck. He also has a lot of scars from past fights and abuse all over his body including self harm burn marks on his legs. the scars are the worst on his back, which he tries to keep covered for the most part. piercing blue eyes and his face is very expressive. 

HEALTH

Physical Ailments: he has screws in one of his legs and a small metal plate in his head.

Neurological Conditions: C-PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, ADD, Migraines, Insomnia

Allergies: none 

Sleeping Habits: rarely, he gets extreme nightmares so he rarely gets a good amount of sleep. There’s only been one person that he’s been able to sleep decently with and it’s complicated. 

Eating Habits: he loves food, he knows what it’s like to go hungry so he eats whenever he feels like it so he doesn’t have to feel that way again

Exercise Habits: nothing regular, he is always on the move though and does a lot of push-ups and pull-ups 

Sociability: he’s a volatile person, but he’ll talk to anyone and hates being alone

Body Temperature: warm

Addictions: nicotine, caffeine, alcohol

Drug Use: weed, occasional cocaine, has tried other things but nothing stuck

Alcohol Use: daily

PERSONALITY

Positive Traits: dependable, energetic, independent, passionate, brave

Negative Traits: stubborn, moody, quick-tempered, aggressive, callous

FAVOURITES

Weather: cloudy or raining, cold

Colour: black

Music: metal and punk

Movies: horror

Sport: boxing or football

Beverage: whiskey

Food: steak

Animal: honey badger

FAMILY

Father: Henryk Novak

Mother: Livia Novak

Sibling(s): Michelle ‘Mitch’ Novak (half-sister), Tommy Novak (deceased half-brother), TBD younger sister

Children: none

Other family: TBD

Pet(s): none, he can barely take care of himself

EXTRA

Zodiac Sign: aries

MBTI: ENFJ

Enneagram: 8 - the challenger

Temperament: choleric

Moral Alignment: chaotic neutral

Pinterest

BACKGROUND

Born to a lower middle class family. His mother had two children from a previous relationship. He was right in the middle, but as a young child he never felt left out. He looked up to his older siblings and protected his younger one.

He was around seven years old when Tommy, his older half-brother, went missing. He didn’t really understand what was going on or the suspicions behind the situation. All he knew was his brother was gone and no one knew where he was. 

About a year later Tommy's body was found. There had already been a shift in the house, his mother was consumed with the media constantly bouncing from television show to public speaking appearances in search of her son. After they found his body and the police did little to nothing, she started her campaign to warn other parents and get real results. His father turned meaner and meaner as time went on. Once Tommy passed he seemed to take that anger and pain out on his remaining children. 

At first, Mitch was there to protect Jericho and Liz. While she couldn't always hide them away she was able to divert his attention away from him and his younger sister for the time she was there. He saw her as his safety and spent many nights asleep on her floor to avoid his father's drunken wrath. An anger he'd never fully understand. But then, all at once, Mitch was gone and Jericho was the main target of his father's rage and mother's neglect.

For years, he endured his household. For a long time, he waited to hear from Mitch. Hoping she would come back and take him and Liz somewhere or at the very least tell him where she went. In the meantime, he focused on protecting Liz and keeping her out of the line of fire. After a few years with not so much of a word and the constant beatings his father delivered to him on a regular basis, he lost hope. 

Around the age of sixteen, he couldn’t stand it anymore. He grabbed what he could and threw it in a backpack. Jer told Liz to do the same and they took off. It was hard, finding food and money and ways to clean themselves and their clothes. They managed, but barely. After a few months of sleeping outside, he ended up bringing Liz to the Redridge women’s center and asked them to help her find a safe place. He explained their home life and left her with a refillable cell phone to contact him if she needed anything at all. It was daunting for him to have to do. The man didn’t have a lot of feelings on the regular, but he hated having to leave her with strangers. She needed the option to go to school, have a bed to sleep in, know when she would get her next meal, and have clean clothes on her back. Some sort of normalcy that he couldn’t offer her surviving out on the streets. At the very least, though, he got her away from the house and to people who could help. He hoped they could and she knew how to get a hold of him if they didn’t. 

After awhile back on the streets, before he had the chance to turn seventeen, he was caught by a member of Valencia when he was trying to get shelter from a storm in one of their warehouses. Instead of tossing him out or killing him on sight, they decided to take him in. From there he became a street rat and eventually a soldier for the organization. Finally he'd found the family and solace he'd always needed. A place to channel all the anger he'd been harboring for years. 

The only thing that changed over the years was his relationships. An on again off again boyfriend he'd known since he was a teenager that knows everything about him. Though he struggles to come out to his fellow soldiers in fear he'd be rejected by them and back on the street. A source of turmoil between him and the other. 

He kept in contact with Liz, though tried to keep her away from Valencia in hopes she'd have a somewhat normal life. Recently, he's heard rumors of a journalist in town with a strong resemblance to Mitch but he'd yet to cross paths with her. He didn't know what he would say if he did or if he'd just turn and walk away like she did to him and Liz. 

WANTED CONNECTIONS

The Savior: this person was affiliated with Valencia and took Jer in when he was just a teenager out on the streets. He sees them as an older sibling or parent like figure. Out of everyone in Valencia they are the person he's most loyal to.

The Complicated Soulmate: See wanted connection for more info

Close/Best Friend: someone who has been with him since his street rat days. They just understood each other and are often seen together creating chaos in town.

Enemy: absolutely hates Jericho and wants to see him dead. The feeling is mutual but somehow, something is preventing them from going through with the job.

Frenemy: their banter is something to go down in the history books, both witty and while they don't hate each other they don't exactly love each other either. They talk a lot of shit to each other but at the end of the day they're there for each other if the other person needs help.

[not-close-to-straight]

Time Stands Still (One)(Stony) (Winteriron)(Time Travel AU)

Welcome to the story! This is this first chapter of our third and final installment of our time travel series, and I really love it. I love seeing Stony in such a good place after such a rough time through NTBU and I love seeing Bucky remembering more of himself in all these little ways. 

To those of you who have stuck around for this “supposed to be one story and now is three” journey, I love you all very much. Thank you for putting up with my writing shenanigans.

TIME STANDS STILL MASTERLIST HERE

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

“Today marks the one year anniversary of what has been dubbed the Battle of New York, a few words far too simple for the horror that rained down on us this time last year. There isn’t a person in the city that doesn’t remember the sky opening up and the creatures that poured through, and there isn’t a single one of us who walked away unaffected. Whether we had loved ones among the rubble or--.”

“Change the channel please.”

“Yes sir.”

“...All across the country and all across the world, millions have gathered to mourn the loss of those who perished in the Battle of New York. The day lives in infamy not just as one of the biggest single attack against the United States, but also as the day that many of us realized that not only are we not alone in the universe, but that we are hopelessly outmatched should those others decide to pay a visit…”

“Change the channel.”

“Yes sir.”

“... a year since the Chitauri invasion and the government is still maintaining their tight lipped silence, denying answers to a nation and a world desperately needing explanations for what happened. There has been no sign of the team called Avengers, at least not all together and lately neither billionaire Tony Stark nor his alter ego super hero Iron Man have been seen out and about. One has to wonder when the general populace is still struggling with post traumatic stress and nightmares, how much worse is it for those who actually fought the …”

“JARVIS!”

“Perhaps some jazz, sir.”

The channel changed for the third time in just a few moments and only after the first bluesy piano riff came over the speakers did Tony finally relax, the paintbrush falling from his hand as he ran his fingers through his hair and sighed.

He knew it was a year since the battle, of course he did. People just didn’t forget things like how shockingly heavy a nuclear bomb or how cold space was or the noise the Chitauri had made. He wasn’t going to forget his suit shutting down or falling like dead weight through the sky or waking up in the fucking nineteen forties either.

Tony didn’t need to be reminded that this had been the hardest year of his entire life, that somehow it had only been a year and so much had happened, and hearing it again from every single news channel all day long was only making him anxious.

“Call Spangles please.” he requested and the music moved to the background, JARVIS dialing Steve’s number immediately, the phone only ringing once before it picked up.

“Tony?” Steve sounded like he was talking over the wind. “Hey sweetheart! I was just going to call you and tell you I was home!”

“Well it’s about damn time you got back from your little jaunt around the globe.” Tony leaned his head back against the wall and smiled. “How are you?”

“Well shucks, I’m sure doing better the longer we talk.” Steve was grinning, Tony could hear it through the phone and that combined with the goofy speech made him smile more even as Steve sobered up to say, “How are you doing, though? I saw all the special reports on the news about New York. Wish I could have been here so you didn’t have to listen to it all alone. I know it isn’t easy.”

“Yeah, surprisingly enough it's sort of shitty to watch yourself fall from a wormhole over and over and over on every available news channel.” Tony picked idly at a sliver in his thumb. “You look great in the footage though. I’m banged half to hell and look like I woke up in a dumpster, which to be fair? I did like seventy years earlier. But somehow you and Thor look gorgeous. Is that a blonde thing or just a ‘I’m sort of immortal’ thing? Do you guys not know what a bad camera angle is?”

“You’re deflecting.” Steve said easily. “Sure I look great wearing that ridiculous costume and hefting something big and--” he coughed. “--thick in my hand--” Tony nearly choked, wheezing out a surprised laugh. “-- but you’re deflecting. Tell me how you’re doing with all the footage of New York.”

“...better than I thought I would.” Tony admitted. “It’s not easy hearing about it or seeing it on repeat, but really all it did was made me miss you. Made me miss Bucky.”

“Yeah.” the noise behind Steve cut off abruptly as he most likely stepped into the elevator. “Yeah, I know the feeling. I’ve been thinking about him a lot today too. Not just cos I’m looking for him, just some of the other memories.”

“Right.” Tony chewed at his lip for a few seconds so his voice wouldn’t shake when he spoke again. “So you’re home?”

‘“Home and ready to see you.” Steve confirmed. “Come upstairs and find me, we’re weeks overdue for a good kiss.”

“I’m actually up at the cabin.” Tony glanced around the loft bedroom, then down at the bed frame he’d been staining. “But I brought the helicopter so I can be home in an hour. Take a shower and wait for me.”

“What do you mean take a shower? I’ll have you know that not only do I always look great on camera, but that I am always minty fresh.”

“First off, you’re ridiculous.” Tony informed him. “And second, I knew you both before and after the serum, before and after workouts and missions and now before and after spending nights together? And I can assure you, you are not always minty fresh.”

“I’m offended.”

“Well take a damn shower then. I require brushed teeth and deodorant from people I kiss.”

“Alright, that’s fair.” the call switched to speaker phone, Steve’s voice muffled like he was taking his shirt off. “So you’re up at the cabin? How’s that bed frame coming along? Did you find the right color stain for it yet or are you still looking?”

“You remembered I was working on the bed frame?” Tony’s heart did something funny and swoopy at the thought of Steve remembering his current project even after being gone for weeks looking for Bucky. “I um-- yeah. I found a great stain for it. I went with a reddish color since the bed is upstairs and we see the tops of the--”

“--of the maples in the yard and they’ll turn red in the fall” Steve finished. “Right. I think that’s going to be perfect, honey. Good choice. Bucky’s favorite color is red, you know.”

“Yeah.” Tony closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I know. I remember.”

“Well take your time and get it done.” Steve was further away now, the white wash of water fuzzing through their call. “I’ll be here when you get home, okay?”

“I’ll be there in an hour.”

“No rush, Tony.”

“I’ll be there in an hour.” Tony repeated, already resealing the can of stain and wrapping his brush, wiping his hands on his jeans. “See you soon. Love you, Spangles.”

Steve mwah-ed him a kiss through the phone which was the silliest, sweetest thing in the world and a few months ago Tony might have rolled his eyes but now he loved it. He loved that Steve was goofy with their relationship and he loved that they’d made it past all those nights of tears and long talks and nightmares to finally just smile and laugh and tease together.

Tony loved it and he loved Steve and he loved being able to say it out loud.

“JARVIS, turn the music back up.” he instructed, then set about cleaning the still mostly deconstructed loft, the pieces of the bed frame lined carefully on drying racks so the stain wouldn’t smudge, the tarp tucked carefully over the beautiful hardwood floor so nothing would drip. It had taken three days and eight different stain samples to decide on the color for the bed and it was simply gorgeous. Tony didn’t resist running his hand over a dried piece, letting himself wonder for a split second if Bucky really would love it.

No time to focus on that though, not when he needed to lock up the cabin and head back towards Manhattan, so Tony pushed the thought away and jogged downstairs.  

The banister on the stairs was temporary at best, just enough to keep Tony from pitching over the side as he went, and the bottom stair was still dodgy from when he’d trashed the place months ago after finding out about his parents so Tony detoured into the barely functional kitchen to add ‘bottom stair repair’ to his ever growing list of projects for the cabin.

Working on the cabin was a never ending job, but it was one Tony enjoyed right down to the tiniest detail. Long days working had given him back a healthy tan and the arm and back strength that had weakened during his months of depression and solitude. He had wrinkles at the corner of his eyes from squinting in the sun as he cut and measured, but they folded into smile wrinkles every time he laughed which was something Tony did more now than he ever used to. It felt good to work with his hands to create again, and this time Tony wasn’t creating weapons or armor or programs, this time-- for the first time-- Tony was creating a home.

Every nail hammered was a labor of love, every repair and every fix and every adjustment to the small house a step towards the life he wanted. Rebuilding the bed frame and painting it in shades of a color that had been Bucky’s favorite, a color he and Steve wore constantly. The kitchen table designed with three matching chairs instead of two or four. The custom bathtub he’d ordered that was more than big enough for a super soldier, and the separate shower with shower heads that sat at almost seven feet so neither Steve nor Bucky would ever be frustrated by a too short shower. The closet upstairs was absolutely huge and Tony knew-- he knew-- that he was designing this all with the mindset that one day he, Steve and Bucky would all live here and he knew that might never happen, it might be a pipe dream, it might be a lost cause.

Bucky might never come home and Steve might never want to stay here and Tony might not be able to live here after all was said and done.

Tony knew all that, but it didn’t stop him from shopping for three different recliners, couches with at least three seats and not just two, for making sure he ordered plates and cups in multiples of three as well.

He was creating a home, the home he wanted for the life he dreamed about when he closed his eyes, and that home required three people.

After another quick sweep through to make sure he hadn’t missed anything important and a check at the mantle to make sure his and Bucky’s pictures were still propped up by a fresh bouquet of wildflowers. The door locked behind him and less than ten minutes later Tony was airborne and heading for Manhattan, for the Tower and for Steve.

From Tony: Coming home, babe. T-minus forty eight minutes and counting.

From Steve: Christ, I can’t wait to see you.

From Tony: Language, Cap. God, you’re on a mission for a few weeks and turn into a degenerate.

From Steve: Come here and give me something else to do with my tongue then.

From Tony: WHAT

From Tony: You are a far cry from the good ol’ boy I knew in the forties. The Smithsonian would burn your display down if they knew what sort of things you talked about. For shame. For SHAME. For someone who still wears high waisted, pleated khakis you are shockingly uncouth.

From Steve: Yeah, everyone’s real surprised the guy that was a virgin until almost thirty and then chilled his balls in the ice for seventy years turns out to be a horn dog. Big shock.

From Steve: Hurry home to me, Tony. I’ll let you rip my pleated khakis right off.

From Tony: Honestly, that shouldn’t sound half as sexy as it is. Dating a hundred year old has completely ruined my scale for sexiness.

From Steve: Aren’t you technically sort of a hundred years old now too?

From Tony: Keep talking like that and the only place your pleated khakis are going is to the old folks home.

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

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

There was an rule between Tony and Steve after every mission-- first they spent time together reconnecting, then they talked about Steve’s search to find Bucky. Tony had been adamant that looking for Bucky didn’t ruin what he and Steve had, and Steve was so grateful for Tony’s foresight into both their fairly obsessive natures that he could have wept. 

“We can focus on Bucky when he’s back home.” Tony had insisted. “But I don’t want to lose you because we’re so intent on finding him we forget we’re in love, right? I just got you back Spangles, not gonna lose you again.”

“Right.” Steve had answered, scooping Tony into his arms and carrying him to the bed. “I don’t want to lose you either, Tony.”

It was a rule, so the minute Tony touched down at the Tower he was tearing down the hall to Steve’s room and banging on the door, calling “Spangles, you might be old but I know you aren’t deaf! Open the door!”

He didn’t have time for another sassy remark because Steve yanked the door right open and grabbed his hand, pulling Tony close and covering his mouth in a much needed, long awaited kiss.

“Hey you.” Tony threw his arms around Steve’s neck and kissed him right back. “Welcome home.”

“Mmmm.” Steve’s sigh was more of a rumble and Tony shivered over it, pressing closer to a still shower-damp chest, his hands automatically skipping down Steve’s bare sides to pluck at the hem of his towel. “Sweetheart, I missed you.”  

“I missed you too.” Tony pushed their foreheads together and tipped his mouth up for another kiss, letting go of the towel with one hand to sift through the longish blonde hair at Steve’s neck. “You’re getting shaggy, Mr. Rogers. We’ll have to get you a haircut.”

“Oh that’s Captain Rogers to you.” Steve deepened his voice dramatically and Tony pinched at the non-existent pudge on Steve’s side in exasperation. “No no say it. Call me Captain Rogers.”

“I’ll call you Captain Not-Getting-Laid-Tonight if you don’t kiss me again.” Tony grumbled and Steve shut him up with a sweet, soft press of lips. “Yeah, that’s better. Were you planning on putting on clothes so we can talk or just lounging around in a towel and distracting me?”

“Tony.” This kiss wasn’t sweet at all, the hand low on Tony’s hip wasn’t gentle and when Steve fit a thigh between Tony’s legs and rocked into him meaningfully, there was nothing soft about that either. “I didn’t really plan on talking.”

“I swear.” Tony clucked his tongue in mock disapproval as Steve hustled him towards the bed. “I swear if anyone knew you were half this dirty all the time--”

“What do you mean dirty?” The towel landed somewhere across the room and Tony shrieked with laughter as there was suddenly two hundred plus pounds of super soldier pressing him into the pillows. “I just took a goddamn shower, let me show you how squeaky clean I am.”

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

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

“Tell me about the cabin.” Steve finished cleaning up with his previously discarded towel and dropped it in the laundry before stretching out on the bed with a yawn. He was exhausted after three almost four solid weeks on the ground overseas and needed to sleep but he also needed to  not let go of Tony for several more hours, and a nap would cover both those things. “What have you been working on besides the bed frame?”

“If I start telling you about how I managed to hang a new mantle at the fireplace, you’re just going to fall asleep.” Tony informed him, already making room for the big blonde to lay on his chest, Steve’s hand creeping up to rest over the arc reactor like it always did. “But I don’t actually care about that because the new mantle is magnificent. I found this old log turned over by the river and it and has all these striation marks from the silt and rocks? So instead of sanding it all the way smooth like most mantles, I filled the scratch marks with gold paint so it looks like--”

“--Kintsukuroi.” Steve cut in over a yawn, winding his leg through Tony’s and cuddling closer. “Gold in cracks to create something beautiful from something nearly broken.”

“And how the hell do you know a word like that?”

“I’m not just pretty.” Steve grumbled. “I’m smart too.”

“Okay.” Tony kept running his fingers through the shaggy hair, quietly loving the way it curled at the very ends. “But how did you really know it?”

“Mmph.” Steve grumbled again and felt around for his phone, scrolling through the messages before clicking on an audio message so Tony could listen.

“--Gonna add some gold paint to this beauty, make it like the Kintsukuroi art. Every single one of us knows what it's like to be just about broken and I mean, me and Steve made it through to something better and more beautiful and one day Bucky will too. He will. Steve’s going to find him and bring him home and it will just be-- just gold in our broken pieces and it's taken seventy god damn years, but we’ll make it.”

“Oh.” Tony’s touch slowed, then paused uncertainly. “Did I butt dial you? I didn’t actually mean to send that, I was just thinking out loud.”  

“You probably mentioned something out loud about calling me and JARVIS did.” Steve put his phone back and wrapped his arm around Tony’s waist again. “But my phone went to voicemail and that’s the message I got when I checked later.”

“...You saved it?”

“I like that you think about me enough to call without realizing.” Steve admitted, squeezing Tony into a gentle hug. “And I love that every time you put something else in the cabin, it's with all three of us in mind.”

“Well how else would I build it?” Tony frowned. “I built the Tower for me and the Malibu home for me and I’ve got different apartments for when I travel and I’ve got a place outside of Paris and one in Dubai-- why would I build the cabin just for me? I’m tired of building things just for me. The cabin is… well it’s ours.”

“But it was Bucky’s dream.” Steve pointed out carefully, feeling the steady heartbeat beneath his palm pick up. “I wasn’t even around for that part. And I know rebuilding it has helped you cope while I’m gone, and helped you deal with some of the things we found in Bucky’s file so--”

“You’re gonna do this again?” Tony glared down at him, the moment shifting from easy to tense just that quickly. “Going to try and take a step back because you think I won’t be happy with both you and Bucky? Are you going to make me argue with you when this is the first time we’ve seen each other in weeks? Damn it Steve, I’m too naked to have this argument again!”

“Stop.” Steve leaned up and kissed Tony soundly. “I’m not saying that, honey. I’m not saying that at all. Please don’t argue with me ever, and definitely not when we’re still naked.”

“Then what the hell are you saying?”

“That if you need something that is just yours and Bucky’s, I��m fine with it.” Steve explained and Tony’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “You and I-- we have stuff that’s just ours, right? We eat Rocky Road ice cream in bed and we spend time in your lab and if we have a choice between my bed or yours, you always choose to sleep in my bed as payback for all the times I snuck into yours and stole all your blankets. And when Bucky comes home, you’ll have things just the two of you do too. All I’m saying is that it’s fine. I understand, and it's fine.”

“And you thought the cabin would be one of those things that’s just mine and Bucky’s?”

"I sort of did.” Steve’s shoulder rose and fell in a shrug. “And it didn’t bother me in the least.” 

“Okay.” Tony was quiet for a minute. “Well there are three chairs at the kitchen table, alright?”

“Alright, sweetheart.” Steve settled back into Tony’s chest, closing his eyes against a wave of exhaustion. “Three chairs sounds real good.”

“Good, now shut up about it.” Tony sank further on the pillows and pulled a throw blanket up over their legs. “So you sort of took the fun out of my log mantle story, so I’ll tell you the super boring story of the fabric patterns I picked out for the recliners.”

Steve drifted in and out of a nap with a smile on his face, Tony rambling on about whether or not big squares or smaller were better for a recliner, because it was a cabin so he wanted it to look rustic and flannel was definitely rustic, but he wasn’t actually into the whole flannel look--

“You would be adorable in flannel.” Steve interrupted sleepily and a very light kiss landed on his brow before Tony kept chatting about patterns and colors and whether or not the recliners needed to have wooden handles or push buttons.

They could talk about Bucky later, could talk about how Steve had been almost positive that Bucky was tracking him sometimes instead of the other way around, how he’d stepped into a nondescript apartment on the top floor of a tall building at the end of a one way street and known that he had just missed Bucky, that he was only minutes behind his friend. Sometimes he’d caught a reflection out of the corner of his eye and turned around to find no one there-- or at least no one obvious.

And it might not have been Bucky. It might have been remnants of HYDRA waiting for a chance to jump him, could have been leftovers of SHIELD with a directive to keep an eye on Steve. It could be the watchdogs from the UN determined to make sure it was Steve crossing international borders and not Captain America.

It might not have been Bucky at all, but it also might have been and that’s why Steve had stayed an extra four days this time around.

It could have been Bucky and that’s why even at half asleep Steve’s mind was working through his strategy for the next time around, where he thought Bucky would be based on his movements in the last several months. There was a definite pattern to Bucky’s travels, a predictability in the rooms he chose to rent, the places he appeared on cameras only if it was for a split second.

It wasn’t a pattern that anyone would notice, but Steve was a master tactician, a master planner and he noticed everything.

Howard’s code helped of course, the list of previous Winter Soldier sightings as they lined up with former Commando and SHIELD missions. And Tony’s creation of a facial recognition system, deployed in key locations across the globe with JARVIS constantly monitoring helped too, but there still needed to be boots on the ground physically looking and those boots belonged to Steve.

And it was worth it, every single step, but damn it was good to get back home and back to Tony where he belonged.

Seventy years between them and somehow all that time had fallen away so Steve could have someone he loved back at his side every night when he was home and it was nothing short of a miracle.

Right here was where he belonged, and when he found Bucky, it would be where Bucky belonged too.

Steve leaned up and kissed Tony’s temple, his cheek, down along his jawline and Tony stopped talking mid-sentence, blinking down at him in surprise.

“Everything alright, Spangles?”

“I love you.” Steve said simply and went right back to napping.

“...oh.” Tony smoothed a line from Steve’s brow. “Well that’s good, because I love you too, Spangles.”

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

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

(Vienna)

Vienna was beautiful and it made Bucky’s head hurt in the same way it did every time he tried to place a location or an event or a name.

After so many months, he’d learned to not force the memories, to let them happen as he wandered through cities he didn’t actually remember but was drawn to, he learned not to startle when the migraines came on suddenly and to give himself some distance from whatever triggered them.

And he remembered… some.

It came in bits and pieces, in lines of dialogue and flashes of faces. He understood at least eight of the languages he’d encountered so far and could comfortably speak six. He liked plums and hated cherries, and while roses stirred nothing at all in his mind, the wildflowers that grew alongside every road made him feel… fond. Or at least what he thought was fond.

The color red sparked a feeling of contentment, but red next to blue made him sad and he knew because of the things he’d read that he was sad because Steve Rogers wore red and blue and Steve Rogers was his best friend. Shades of brown with golden tones made his heart beat faster and Bucky knew that had something to do with Brooklyn but that was a memory that hurt and hurt and hurt so he avoided it as best he could.

He didn’t know why Vienna, but this had seemed the next logical choice and Bucky had been here for almost twelve hours and had yet to see Steve Rogers behind him. He must have gone back home, but Bucky knew it was only a matter of time before the blonde found him again.

His red note book was open in his lap, today’s page nearly filled with scribbles as he wrote down facts as they came to him, many repeated for page after page because they were the only things he knew for certain were absolutely true.

Steve Rogers is my best friend. Blonde hair, blue eyes. Six foot two inches. Two hundred and forty pounds. Used to be sick all the time until he became a super soldier. His name is Captain America.

I was a soldier of HYDRA

I am a product of HYDRA

I am an experiment of HYDRA

My name is Brooklyn and brown is my favorite color.

My name is Bucky and red is my favorite color.

My name is Sergeant Barnes and I disappeared in 1945 after I fell from a train.

I can dismantle and rebuild any gun I pick up. I can kill a man from over eighteen hundred yards. My left arm is a weapon and it hurts all the time.

I hurt all the time.

My name is Brooklyn and I loved someone with brown eyes.

My name is Bucky and Steve Rogers is my best friend.

My name is Sergeant Barnes and I disappeared in 1945 after I fell from a train.

I don’t have a home.

The world suddenly shifted as an explosion several blocks over rocked the restaurant patio where Bucky sat writing and purely out of habit, he retrieved his back pack and took off at a flat run, scooting around screaming pedestrians and dodging cars to get back to his safe house as quickly as possible.

Bombs were not good. Bombs were not good and he did not want to be anywhere around when law enforcement came looking for suspects. Bucky knew he was a wanted man, knew that when HYDRA had fallen any survivors had been hunted down and taken into custody and then never seen again and Bucky didn’t want to disappear in an empty cell and a shallow grave before he had his answers.

No no no no.

So he ran even though he wasn’t guilty this time, even though it was pure coincidence that the bomb had detonated only a few blocks from where he sat. He ducked around corners and kept his hat firmly down on his head, avoiding the camera’s he’d mapped out on his first foray into the city, planning on climbing the fire escape to enter his temporary rooms from the outside window so no one would see him on the streets out in front.

It was a good plan. 

But Bucky couldn’t plan for the car that turned unexpectedly down the one way and nearly ran him over, pushing him into the line of sight of a camera mostly hidden across the street and under an awning, a small security camera for a flower shop that only ever recorded passers-by and couldn’t possibly have picked up his face.  

He was fine. 

But halfway across the world, JARVIS came online in an instant, his system having picked up on the markers in Bucky’s stride, in his face, in the way he moved and the way the metal arm hung from his shoulder.

“Sir.” the lights in Steve’s bedroom came on full force and Tony threw a pillow at the ceiling in protest while Steve groaned and burrowed under the covers. “Sir, there has been a bombing in Vienna.”

“J, I think I’m too naked to care about that sort of thing right now.”

“Sir, the United Nations building in Vienna has come under attack via bombing and Sergeant Barnes has been spotted within the vicinity, no more than a few blocks away.”

“I’m going.” Steve was out of bed in a split second, snagging his suit from the closet and jumping into it. “Tony, I’m going right now.”

“Well you sure as hell can’t go as Captain America.” Tony yanked his shirt over his head. “Steve, the Accords, remember? You can’t go as Captain America. It’s considered an act of aggression to cross borders sporting that spangly suit.” 

“But it will look like a personal vendetta or an attempt at covering something up if I go over in plain clothes and am spotted.” Steve argued back, hefting his shield. “No, they need to see me bringing Bucky in as Captain America.Then it will look as if we are bringing a suspect in to answer some questions. We have to do this right.”

“The right way is going through the UN first! We’ve talked about this!” Tony retorted and Steve shot back, “Then you put on your fancy suit and talk to the UN! But I’m going to get Bucky!”

“Be careful please.” Tony pulled him down for a kiss. “I get that sometimes it's easier to ask forgiveness rather than permission, god knows I’ve used that mentality more than a few dozen times in my life. But be careful, alright? I’m not posting bail for you if you get arrested in Vienna.”

“No one’s going to arrest Captain America.” Steve teased, but his eyes were dark with worry. “I’m going to bring him home, Tony. I promise.” 

“I know you will.” Tony pushed him out the door, already pulling out his phone to start making phone calls and arrangements, ordering JARVIS to inform both Pepper and Rhodey of what was happening. “The question is whether or not Bucky is Bucky enough to come home.” 

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

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[migila]

NicoSashaWeek, day 2!

Theme of day 2: Role Change. Starring Marleyan soldier Sasha and Eldian scout Nikolo!

Day 2: Role Change

“Does it have to be me?” Nikolo asked as Jean handed him a tray. Rolling his eyes, the man said: “Yes, it has to be you.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m busy, Armin’s busy, Eren’s an ass, Mikasa’s trying to babysit him and Connie, well…”

“Is a moron who’d just get tricked by the prisoner?” Nikolo finished for Jean when he didn’t continue. The guy shrugged with a lopsided smile, saying: “You said it, not me. Try to make sure he doesn’t find out.”

Nikolo sighed; Jean was such an ass. Well, seems like he had no choice. He couldn’t ask his superiors to do this, and knowing Floch he might actually try to hurt the prisoner, so he was out too. They were supposed to avoid that after all.

“Fine” he gave in, leaving for the woman’s solitary cell. For comfort’s sake they kept most of the prisoners together, but that wasn’t an option with this woman. They had had no option but to isolate her after she managed to convince majority of the other Marleyan soldiers to a rebellion and almost caused a massive prison break. The MPs had wanted her head, but the Survey Corps had saved her as Yelena convinced them that she’d be useful in the end if they just got her trust.

“I just hope she doesn’t bite anyone to death” Nikolo snorted, remembering how the prisoner had bitten Jean when they’d caught her. He should probably make sure his hands didn’t linger near the bars of the cell too long.

“I brought you some food” he said as he entered the underground chamber where the woman was locked up in. She glares at him before looking away with a move that is almost theatric, like she wants to make sure Nikolo sees exactly how much she hates him. Brat “I’m not hungry.”

That would’ve been a lot more convincing if her stomach hadn’t chosen that very moment to start growling.

The woman blushes. Nikolo can see her glancing at him, or perhaps just the tray, before quickly looking away again. He raises an eyebrow, wondering if she’ll still try to deny it.

“I’m not eating something made by filthy devils” she says “No matter how hungry I might be!”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not filthy; I bath regularly” Nikolo attempts to joke. In all honesty he just wants to leave and take the tray with him, but he feels slightly sorry for her. It’s not like he thought she was a bad person; she’d ended up here simply for trying to do her job and-

To his surprise, he hears a chuckle. The joke had gotten through.

“Not sure if the same can be said about all of you” she says, and Nikolo would be offended if he didn’t know how true it was. Everyone in Levi squad took great care of their hygiene, the captain made sure of that, but there were plenty of others who had poor hygiene, to put it nicely.

Raising an eyebrow, he made a point of sniffing the air before saying: “Or about you for that matter.”

The reaction is immediate as her head whips to his direction. Face red, she snaps: “I’d bath if I had the chance to!”

“You easily would have” Nikolo says “If you just cooperated.”

The woman didn’t say anything, just narrowed her eyes before turning away from him. Nikolo sighed, slipping the tray in to the cell from the small hatch at the floor level “Just eat.”

---------

After she was sure the soldier was gone, Sasha eyed the tray. The food looked good, but what if it was poisoned? That and it was made by these devils…

“Well, beggars can’t be choosers” she thought as she reached out for the tray. She didn’t want to eat something the Eldians had made, but she was no use to anyone if she starved to death. That also meant she had to take the risk that the food might be poisoned “But if they wanted to get rid of me, they’d just kill me, right? No point in trying to poison me.”

And even if they did want to do that, they could just force some down her throat without hiding it in to the food. Yeah, it was probably safe.

Cautiously, she took the first bite, her eyes widening as she tasted just how good it was. Whoever had made this had to be someone different than the one who usually-

“Hm?” the soldier’s words rang in her head “Was he the one to make this? If so then it’s such a waste that he’s a soldier!”

Sasha quickly shook her head. No, this was no good. She mustn’t compliment a dirty Eldian, even if it was just in her mind. But… “It’s just so good!”

---------

Nikolo had ended up with the short straw again and was taking food for the female soldier, wondering if she’d actually eaten her previous meal. She’d seemed really hungry, but with her attitude towards Eldians, he couldn’t be sure. And yet, when he got there, he saw the empty tray.

He could’ve commented on it, part of him even wanted to, but in the end, he chose to leave her alone. It wasn’t right to go after someone who was already down. So, he settled on a simple greeting before slipping the tray in from the hatch, turning to leave before either could annoy the other. However, he might have been too slow as he heard her say: “Hey”

“Yeah?” Nikolo said, turning back to her. It’s not like they wanted to keep people locked up like this, so if she was going to reach out, he was going to listen “Was it… was it you who made the food yesterday?”

“…Yes” Nikolo replied, wondering why she’d ask. Actually, hadn’t he told her that he did?

He looked at her. She seemed to want to say something more, but hesitated. Would she talk if he edged her on, or would she just clam up? “It’s probably better if I shut up for now.”

“Why?” her question caught him off guard. Blinking, he repeated: “Why what?”

“Why were you cooking?” she asks as she pulls the tray closer to herself “Aren’t you a soldier?”

“I am” Nikolo said, shrugging “But the cook wasn’t feeling well yesterday, and since I cook as a hobby anyway, I volunteered to take his place.”

She was watching him as he spoke, but once he finished, she turned her attention to the food. Taking a spoonful of the soup, she brought it to her mouth. After swallowing, she complained with a frown: “It’s plain.”

“Spoiled brat” was Nikolo’s first thought on that. Well, he supposed that someone who wasn’t used to food regulations like almost everyone inside the walls were would be pickier of what they ate “The one you made was way better.”

Nikolo blushed at the unexpected, completely out of nowhere -compliment.

“I ah… thanks” he stuttered, hoping that she wouldn’t take a notice of his sudden embarrassment. If she did, she didn’t comment on it; she simply kept eating. After a while, she spoke again: “Why did you become a soldier? I’m sure you could’ve made a living as a cook!”

Nikolo blushed again. It’s not like this was the first time he’d been told this, in fact, many in the 104th training corps had said the same, but somehow this was different… perhaps because it was coming from an enemy who had no real reason to compliment him it felt more genuine?

Looking at the woman again, Nikolo realized that she’d stopped eating for the time being and was now looking at him, waiting for an answer.

“It’s… complicated” he said “And personal.”

“Hmm…” Sasha hummed, thinking it over for a second “Family reasons?”

Nikolo’s eyes widened, which made Sasha grin before she said: “Bull’s eye, huh?”

Nikolo blushed, again, though this time it was from a different type of embarrassment. Just what was with this woman, constantly getting him to blush!?

Sasha laughed, but her smile soon faded to a sad one as she averted her eyes.

“Me too…”

That caught Nikolo off guard. Not the fact that she joined military for family reasons, but the fact that she would share something so personal with him. A small part of him wanted to know more, not that he knew why, but since she hadn’t asked more from him, he didn’t want to pry, either.

“Just…” he wanted to change the topic “Eat that before it gets cold, okay?”

“Yeah” Sasha said, but before continuing she looked at Nikolo again: “…Think the cook will be feeling unwell again any time soon?”

“He might” Nikolo answered, pretty sure he knew why she was asking. Wanting to check, he said: “But even if he won’t, I can still cook for you if you want.”

“You would do that!?” Sasha asked, excited as she leaned forward, closer to the bars. However, a thought soon occurred to her and she frowned “What’s the catch?”

“There is no catch” Nikolo said, but he could tell she was not buying it “I’m just trying to be kind; we’re not bad people you know.”

She still wasn’t convinced, he could tell. A sudden urge to mess with her came to him and, wanting to see if he could make her blush in return, he said with a smirk: “And you have a cute smile; maybe I’ll get to see that again if I cook for you?”

“Success” he thought as she blushed, leaning away from the bars now with a mortified look on her face “Are you trying to flirt with me!?”

Now it was, once more, Nikolo’s turn to blush.

“No!” he quickly denied “I’m not!”

“Are too!” Sasha argued, scooting away from the bars “Like you wouldn’t want a piece of this!” she gestures to her body. Nikolo’s eyebrow twitches on his red face as he says: “Isn’t it you who’s trying to flirt with me?”

“I’m just stating the facts” Sasha says, crossing her arms “Or what, do you not swing this way?”

“If by “this way” you mean stinky, uncooperative war prisoners then no, I don’t” Nikolo hissed back, pleased to see her face go red again. Angrily, Sasha stood up and came right over to the bars, practically screaming at him: “I’m only stinky because some assholes insist on keeping me locked up in a cage like some animal!”

Childishly thinking that he didn’t want to lose, Nikolo takes a few long steps to get right in front of the cell with the only thing between their faces being the bars. Once there, he snaps: “Well maybe you wouldn’t be treated like an animal if you stopped acting like one!”

They glared at each other, their faces almost touching the bars. It was Sasha who broke the eye contact first, unable to hold in a chuckle. After that, she started laughing hysterically.

Nikolo stared, dumbfounded, before the ridiculousness of the situation sank in for him too and he laughed as well. They were trained soldiers in the middle of a fateful war, yet here they were, fighting like a pair of children. She sure pulled out the ridiculous side of him, way more so than even Connie did.

“What the hell’s going on in here!?” Nikolo froze at Jean’s voice. Sasha was still laughing, but was now trying to stop as she too heard the rapid, loud steps coming towards her cell. As Jean stepped in to the room, both had themselves under control and Nikolo had packed away from the cell.

“Nothing” he said “Just… getting to know each other?”

It sounded like a question; he knew it did. Jean was eyeing him up and down, checking if he was really okay. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he turned his attention to the prisoner, who also seemed fine, if not a little redder in the face than he would’ve expected.

“Whatever. Now c’mon, the captain’s calling for us” Jean said “Hopefully he won’t make us mop up the whole building.”

Sasha snorted from her cell, and Nikolo threatened to hand her the mop if it happened. Sasha just stuck her tongue out at him as a reply, making Nikolo roll his eyes. Jean was watching them, eyes going back and forth between the two, but he said nothing, leaving as well when Nikolo walked away without saying a word.

---------

After their footsteps faded, Sasha sat back down to eat. She wouldn’t help these devils, these people, she wouldn’t betray her country, but she had to admit that, perhaps, not all of them were the monsters she thought they were.

“Or maybe monsters just mature slowly?” she thought with a grin, seriously considering asking that to the guy’s face. She was probably going to be stuck in the cell for quite a while, so she might just as well get some humor out of it while she was there.

---------

“You two seemed to get along surprisingly well” Jean commented to Nikolo once Levi let them go.

“Him and who?” Connie asked.

“The prisoner”

“You mean Miss Barks Hard and Bites Even Harder?”

“Yeah, that one” Jean confirmed, unconsciously rubbing his hand that the woman had bitten “Just how did you manage that?”

“I got her food” Nikolo says with a shrug “She likes my cooking.”

Connie laughs.

“Well what’d ya know, looks like the route to a woman’s heart goes through her stomach!”

“Pretty sure it’s only the case with that one” Nikolo says with a chuckle. No matter if that was true or not, he was going to make sure that she had enough to eat, including his cooking. Perhaps, with time, he would get her to warm up to them.

For some reason, he truly hoped that.

[kadmeread]

Not Over Yet - Chapter 1: A New Pantheon

If anyone is interested, I decided to redo this story, it is currently published under my account on fanfiction.net (kadmeread) there as well. But I thought I might publish this new version on here and AO3 (same username again) as well to hopefully get it out there. Please let me know what you think!

So this story is a PJO/HOO/TOA crossed over with MCGA. Set after Burning Maze and during Ship of the Dead. Basically the summary goes along the lines of; Jason's confused. Where the hell is he? This isn't Elysium...and there are Norse gods now?

Chapter 1: A New Pantheon

So I finally did it, I died. Now I’ve been close to dying before, I’ve even actually died for a minute, but I never expected to go so soon. When I did go I expected to wake up in the Underworld, on my way to be judged. I would hope that I would get judged worthy of Elysium, but it's hard to tell sometimes. Anyway, I did not expect to be holding the hand of a girl riding what looked like a venti. As I started to show signs of being awake she dropped me on this lawn. It was connected to this really large building, like Olympus sized. As I was looking around, the doors opened and I was addressed.

“Ahh, you’re early, oh well come on in Mr Grace.”

The guy who spoke had on a doorman’s uniform, but the rest of him contradicted the welcoming look. He had a distinctly viking like look, with the wild hair and beard. He had a large double bladed axe at this side and his hand hovered over it threateningly. I decided it would probably be the best idea to do what he said as I still wasn’t even sure if I was dead.

As I walked towards him I noticed the lack of pain, in theory I shouldn’t have even been able to walk, even if I had survived. But I couldn’t even feel any of the various wounds I knew I had gotten. When I looked down at myself I saw no sign of the wounds, I also noted that I was in my Camp Jupiter t-shirt, and IVLIVS was in my jeans pocket. I thought this was odd as I knew I had been using it when I died.

The doorman looked at me impatiently, “Well hurry it up,” he said. “You can’t hang out over there all day, we have other new arrivals expected after all.”

I sped up slightly and tried to work pout what exactly had actually happened. I had been fighting Caligula…Piper and Meg and Apollo had been there fighting with me…Oh gods, the Sybil’s prophecy…it had come true...I had died, I was now dead. I felt the weight of this realisation settle upon me. If I was dead then…

“Where am I?” I demanded. I was confident that this wasn’t any part of the Greco-Roman Underworld. Between Percy, and Nico, and Annabeth, and Hazel, and even Thalia, I knew what it all looked and felt like and smelt like. It was kind of sad that most of my friends could describe the entire Underworld to me like going there was an everyday thing.

The guy’s eyes softened, I really needed to get a name for him.

“All in good time lad,” he said, “For now let’s get you checked in.” He put a hand on my back and guided me in.

The foyer was larger than I expected considering the outside appearance, sure the building seemed tall, but large? Nope. I was no architecture expert like Annabeth, but I was pretty confident that it was physically impossible for the foyer to be this big without magic. The walls were covered in polished Viking shields, the floor almost reminded me of how Percy had described Diana’s tent; (that was a story, he was the only man to have gained her respect in centuries) covered in the pelts of various animals, including what appeared to be a dragon skin. On the right wall a large hearth crackled, I bowed my head towards it, Vesta probably wasn’t there but you never know, and she would always have my respect. There were pictures and statues of wolves scattered around the room, which I greatly appreciated, wolves always did make me feel at home after being raised by Lupa.

I found what appeared to be a reception desk and headed over there. Another guy who unless my dyslexia was acting up was called Helgi said “Welcome to Hotel Valhalla, here is your room key, it’s a suite.”

I had no idea what was going on so I decided the best idea was to ask this guy. “Ah...thanks, I guess? Where am I? This isn;t part of the Underworld is it?”

Helgi’s eyes crinkled “No, you are now in Valhalla, the home of the valiant warriors who shall fight in Ragnarok. Congratulations. In Midgard we are in Boston. Your Valkyrie should be by soon to answer any other questions you might have. Hunding…” He glanced at the other guy, well I knew his name now, “Can you please escort Mr Grace here to his room on Floor 19?”

Hunding nodded and gestured to a door through which I could hear the shouts and metal clanging. “Right this was Mr Grace.”

I shifted uncomfortably, I might not be like Thalia and have completely renounced our last name but I wasn’t used to it being constantly used. “Please, call me Jason.”

He looked at me strangely for a second before nodding.

After we went through the door, we came upon a lounge. We were walking through the lounge to the door on the other side, when a guy about my age came in. I noticed him because he wasn’t really bothering to try and avoid the weapons, nobody else really was, but he also wasn’t joining in on the shouting or other games going on. He appeared to be looking for someone. It became obvious who he was looking for when he came over and started up a conversation with Hunding. I stood there awkwardly for 5 minutes as Hunding had forgotten about me for his conversation. Eventually the other guy gave Hunding what looked like some chocolate before noticing me for the first time. He gave a start and looked me up and down before smiling at me and asking Hunding.

“Who’s the new guy?”

Hunding glanced at me and replied “Jason Grace, just came in today. He’s actually going to be your new neighbour.”

“Really? Cool…” he nodded at me “You’ll have the corridor to yourself soon.” He told me before turning back to Hunding, “Would you me to show him around until Sam gets here, I’m guessing he’s one of hers? I know Helgi will have a bunch of other jobs for you to do.”

Hunding beamed at that, “Yeah he’s one of Samirah’s, and I’d really appreciate it thanks Magnus, you’re a star.”

Magnus turned towards me as Hunding walked off. As I got a good look at him, his eyes startled me, they were the same steel grey as Annabeth’s although they were a lot friendlier, that girl was scary.

“Hi,” he said, “I’m Magnus, welcome to Valhalla.” He held out his hand for me to shake.

I took it saying “Thanks, Jason Grace.”

He looked down at my arm and noticed my tattoo, I had forgotten about it. I wanted to ask about his reaction as he almost seems to recognise it but he forestalled me by asking, “So what impressively heroic feat did you do to end up here?”

As I turned to follow him as we got into an elevator to go up to my new floor I told him, “Umm...I got stabbed in the back with a spear.”

He winced “Ouch, I know how that feels.”

He seemed to be a good person to ask what the Hades was going on. “So,” I continued, “What exactly is Valhalla?”

He looked uncomfortable, “I’m probably not the best person to explain this, but basically it’s the Norse afterlife for those who died heroically with a weapon in hand.”

“Ok…” I decided that until I was sure what the Hades was going on I wouldn’t mention that I’m in the wrong afterlife. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t meant to go to the Norse afterlife instead of the Underworld.

After standing in an awkward silence for a few seconds the elevator finally arrived at floor 19. Magnus told me all about my new neighbours as we passed their rooms. “So this is Halfborn’s room, he’s your typical Viking; big, hairy, thickheaded, good to have on your side in a fight. He and Mallory are in an on again off again relationship, so tread carefully there, I think they aren’t currently together. That’s T.J’s room, he was a soldier in the Civil War. He fought with the Union and is obsessed with hills, I think it’s a Civil War thing.”

I nodded, “I have a friend whose grandmother was a slave, she wasn’t happy to hear that my forebears were Confederates.”

Magnus nodded, “Yeah probably best not to mention that to T.J either. Anyway that’s Mallory’s room, she’s Irish and has the brogue to match. Don’t get on her bad side, her knives are always sharp.” I thought that she sounded kind of like Annabeth and noted to be careful where I stepped with her.

I then pointed to a door which had Alex Fierro and a snake like symbol on it and asked, “What about him?”

Magnus hesitated before answering, “That’s Alex’s room...she’s genderfluid, so be careful what you say about her.”

I nodded absorbing that information, “Sorry about that, almost sounds like you have a crush on her.”

Magnus looked kind of panicked “What?! No...she’s just...cool. Anyway, you're here beside me.” He hurriedly pointed to the next door.

I looked at the door for my new home. It was purple and orange, reminding me of the two camps. Magnus looked queasy at the colour choices but it made me feel nostalgic for my cabin on the Argo, it’s door had been the exact same, all the doors had all been like that, in order to remind us what we were fighting for. I opened the door and was transported to the lounge of the Argo, it even had the Camp Half Blood video walls, but it also had Camp Jupiter ones as well.

“How did they do this?” I asked in awe, wandering around.

Magnus grinned and said “Magic, it takes your best memories and recreates them to make you feel at home here. My rooms have a tree. What’s the reasoning behind yours, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Uhh…” I said as I caught sight of the Superman poster in my bedroom, that Leo had hung in my room in the Argo as a joke. “This is the lounge area from a cruise I went on with some of my friends and family. The video walls were created by a genius friend of mine, they show videos of the summer camps we went to, we all met at them.”

“Wow,” he said looking at some photos. “Are these your friends?”

I joined him and picked up one of the photos, which had me, the rest of the Seven and Nico and Reyna in it. We had taken the photo in Epirus, so Percy and Annabeth were still looking a little the worse for wear, but we were all ecstatic to have survived to close the Doors of Death and to have Annabeth and Percy back with us.

I felt close to crying, “Yeah, those are my friends, this one has all of us who went on the cruise and a couple of others who flew out to join us, we’re in Epirus, which is in Greece. That’s Nico,” I pointed as I named them and described them for Magnus. “The goth looking boy, he’s my cousin along with Percy and Hazel. Reyna, we grew up together, she’s one of my best friends, she’s amazing, a natural leader and very strong in all ways. Frank, he's a beast man, I didn’t really know him all that well when we first went on the cruise, but now he’s a good friend. He’s also a distant cousin of Percy’s I think. Hazel, she’s Nico’s half sister, and the sweetest thing alive. She and frank are together and adorable about it. Then it’s Annabeth, she’s crazy smart, and super scary.” Magnus smiled at that for some reason, but I carried on. “When I first met her, she was looking for her boyfriend and thought I might know where he was. She scared the heebie jeebies out of me, when she stalked up to me demanding to know where he was. We’re close now though, my older sister practically raised her as a kid. Next is Percy, Annabeth’s boyfriend, he’s kinda the leader of our group of friends, but he’s really cool, we’re bros. He and Annabeth had just got back from a really hard tramp, which is why they weren’t looking so good. Then it’s Piper, we’re best friends, at the time this photo was taken, we were together, but she broke up with me later because she felt it wasn’t working. Her mum pushed her into it, her mum is a crazy matchmaker and really ships Percy and Annabeth together. Then it’s me, and then it’s my boy, Leo the Supersized McShizzle, he’s annoying and a bit of a jokester, but we’ve been through a lot together. He decided to go AWOL for a bit, and I only just found out where he was.” I choked back a sob, “We were about to see each other again too, when I died. Oh, and this…” I picked up another photo. “Is Thalia, my sister, she had only just found me again before we went on that cruise. My stepmother decided to raise me, and then Thalia ran away because our mum was abusive, and she didn’t even know I was alive. Gods she’s going to be devastated when she hears…” I trailed off lost in thought of all the friends and family that I had lost, and Magnus quietly slipped out the door behind me.

I hope you enjoyed! Please do let me know what you think, and I’ll try and get the next chapter up soon hopefully. Redoing this in part was me trying to get past writer’s block on some of my other projects, but if you guys ever want feel free to send in prompts or requests for me to write, it’s always nice to get feedback etc.

[musiclvr1112]

Tag, You’re It!

I was tagged by @dragon-robot! Thank you, I love tags!! <3

How tall are you? 5’ 5.5”

What colour and style is your hair? Dark blonde and obnoxiously long :D I also currently have bangs that are the swaggiest bangs I’ve had yet.

What colour are your eyes? It says blue on my driver’s license.

Do you wear glasses? Yep, I am incredibly blind.

Do you wear braces? Not anymore, thank fuck.

What is your fashion style? It ranges from thot at Coachella to cashier in Hot Topic, I kid you not; it just depends on the day. Most of the time though it’s jeans, sweatshirts, and too many earrings.

Full name? Sierra

When were you born? November 8th

Where are you from and where do you live now? Born and raised in San Diego, California, but now I live in the Pacific Northwest.

What school do you go to? I nearly typed my school’s name and then remembered I JUST GRADUATED HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA I DON’T GO TO SCHOOL *screams maniacally*

What kind of student are you? That really unfortunate overlap of perfectionist and procrastinator. I’m the student who pulls all-nighters 2-3 times a week to do my absolute best on an essay I should have written a week ago.

Do you like school? I did until it gave me anxiety.

What are your favourite subjects in school? Well, I got a degree in Psychology and Spanish, so probably those. I do really love psychology, and I love the Spanish language, but if I’m being honest the Spanish degree was an excuse to take literature classes c:

Favourite TV shows? Oh boy. Miraculous Ladybug, Stargate SG1 and Atlantis, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Steven Universe, Roswell, Firefly, and Gilmore Girls are some of my staples. More recently, though, I’ve been watching Netflix’s Series of Unfortunate Events and WOW it is SO GOOD. Also, if anime counts, I need to mention Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle, Princess Tutu, and Inuyasha.

Favourite movies? Atlantis: The Lost Empire!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Stargate (which is basically the same thing but live action and in space lmao), Treasure Planet, The Road to El Dorado, The Princess Bride, Stardust, John Tucker Must Die, 10 Things I Hate About You, and Independence Day.

Favourite books? I swear there was a time when I read things that weren’t fanfiction, but all I can think of right now is Wizards First Rule (and the rest of the Sword of Truth Novels). Do plays count? Because if so, Hamlet and Elliot: A Soldier’s Fugue.

Favourite pastimes? Writing, video games, Magic: The Gathering, and board games with friends. I’m also constantly listening to music, dunno if that counts.

Do you have any regrets? Tons. Some more recent than others, some more serious than others, but all of them haunt me when I try to sleep.

Dream job? Being a therapist by day and a published author by night.

Would you like to be married some day? Probably. I’m at least planning on marrying my current partner someday. The only reason I don’t concretely say yes is because polyamory? But eh, we’re only 22, we’ll blow up that bridge when we come to it.

Would you like to have kids someday? Probably not. I love other people’s kids though. I’m waiting for my brother to have kids so I can be an aunt.

How many? I hope he has at least one.

Do you like shopping? Yes, but I also get intense buyer’s guilt. The best is shopping with gift cards.

What countries have you lived in? Just the United States. I’m pretty ready for something new.

The scariest nightmare you’ve had? Oh boy buckle up, it’s story time. Warning: This is actually pretty fucked up and horrific. So for context, up until a couple years ago, I had never met my uncle on my mom’s side; I knew he existed, but no one in the family talked to him so I literally had not met him (I have met him since and he’s actually a pretty great guy, yay!). SO, one night, I had this crazy ass dream where my uncle came to live with my mom and I. Some weird murders started going down in our neighborhood right around the same time and from a couple of tense interactions involving a shovel, I knew my uncle was behind them. So I went to my mom and tried to tell her it was him, but she was super ditsy and not taking me seriously, and then she told me—all smiley as if this were the happiest news in the world—that she and he were getting married??? Suddenly that scene froze and I knew that my uncle was the one showing it to me, like he had crazy telepathic powers or something and this was an illusion he was showing me. Then his voice came over telling me that he would kill my mom if I said anything, and suddenly my mom’s face started melting off. I woke myself up (and my partner and our roommate) by screaming. :D

Do you have any enemies? Websites that make me turn off Ad Block.

Do you have an s/o? Yep! Just one right now. We’ve been together for a little over four years.

Do you believe in miracles? Fuck dude I don’t know.

And now, I tag you! You, reading this right now! That’s right, you.

[shockwrites]

Starstruck

Author’s Note: I forget that I write sfw stuff sometimes

Series: League of Legends

Pairing: Luxanna Crownguard/Ezreal

Length: 2042

Rating: Safe

Lux was setting a bad example for the others.

Prim and proper Luxanna, leader of the Star Guardians, sneaking out past curfew? And on a school night??

She could already feel herself rolling her eyes at Jinx’s sarcasm, probably using Lux’s little felony as a get-out-of-jail-free card for when next she’ll no doubt do something…Jinx-like.

Lux sighed, nervously straightening her hair. She didn’t know what she was expecting when she asked Ezreal to meet her out in the woods that night. For whatever reason, she didn’t expect him to say yes. Why was she so surprised that he said yes? He was a Star Guardian like her. He’s expressed some interest in her too…hasn’t he? The occasional wave whenever he saw her, the corny jokes he’d tell her (that she would never admit to Jinx that she found funny), the way he’d listen to her attentively as she talked, not once taking her eyes off of her.

Maybe she was blowing this out of proportion…

He’s on a different team for stars’ sake! Ahri’s platoon wasn’t exactly on friendly terms with Lux’s. How did she know Ezreal wasn’t playing her for a fool? How did she know he wasn’t-“

“-running late!”

Exhausted panting and mild chuckles snapped Lux’s rambling brain back to reality. “Ez!” She yelled a bit too eagerly. “Y-You made it! Cool!” Question: what kind of numbskull talks like that?

“Yeah sorry,” Ezreal huffed, bent over in exasperation. His light blonde hair was disheveled slightly and his clothes were a mess, probably haphazardly thrown on last minute. That is absolutely illegal. His hair has zero permission to be that perfect. I call blasphemy. “Getting past Sarah’s not the easiest task.”

Lux’s mind raced back to Sarah Fortune’s intense, and quite frankly terrifying, glare. The standoffish Star Guardian must have been a real barrel of fun to room with. “I can imagine.”

Much to the dismay of her brain, Lux’s eyes couldn’t help but trace over the ruffled teenager before her. She recognized his sleeveless white and blue jersey that he usually wore. Probably one of his favorites. His ripped jeans were worn from misuse as if he traveled everywhere in them. He had that sort of explorer vibe to him. Ezreal always seemed to have a daring gleam in his eyes, like he was constantly ready to let his curiosity take the wheel and set him on a path to adventure.

Adventure…

Perhaps that’s what set him on the path of being a Star Guardian. Adventure was certainly one term one could use to describe their roles in the universe. Lux, on the other hand, had different terms: a burden, a duty, a trial even to name a few. Ezreal stood out from the rest of his team. He wasn’t hot-headed like Miss Fortune, or aloof like Syndra. He had a boyish charm about him. Something that reminded her that she was still a dumb teenager doing dumb teenage things. Things like texting, going to the mall, talking about boys…looking at boys…talking to boys…kissing boys…

Fu-

���Lux?”

It took the pink haired galaxy heroine a disturbing amount of time to realize she spent some odd minutes wordlessly ogling at Ezreal’s face like she was trying to win the world’s most uncomfortable staring contest.

“Wuhuh?” By the stars, could you stop being embarrassing for 2 minutes? Please?? “Oh-Oh sorry! Just a little, uhh…distracted! Just y’know, you look really…cute tonight.”

Ezreal’s cheeks reddened at her comment. He scratched the back of his head, visibly embarrassed. Lux wasn’t expecting that.

Oh stars, Ez, all of that handsome is going to kill me before the void even comes close.

“So, uh, Lux…you said you wanted to show me something?” He scratched the back of his neck casually. His eyes ran around the quiet atmosphere of the forest. “At night? In the middle of the woods?”

“Right! Yeah, I absolutely did want to show you something!”

Beat

I’m doing the finger pistols, aren’t I? “Follow me.”

The walk through the forest was quiet yet thankfully less awkward than before. Ez seemed more preoccupied with his surroundings. His inquisitive force of habit. Lux thanked the benevolent deities in the galaxy that he didn’t ditch her for a rock.

He wouldn’t ditch her for a rock, right?

Surely Lux wasn’t that uninteresting. She did fun things! Thinks like reading! And doing homework!

…

…………

I’m gonna die alone in a ditch, I swe-EEEARHH!!

A leader of planet protecting super soldiers must always be ready for the unexpected, a rule that Lux learned early on in her career.

A shame that rule never mentioned anything about vicious foot tripping branches.

As poor Lux planted face first into the dirt, Jinx’s distinct snorting laughter rang in her ears. Forget dying in a ditch, she was going to be the only one in the cemetery at this point. Lux could already read her tombstone; “Here lies Luxanna: A Forgotten Embarrassment. May the Stars have mercy on her poorly led team.”

She wanted to be surprised when Ezreal extended a hand to her. She would’ve been absolutely floored if any the rest of his team did anything of the sort if they had witnessed such a shameful display from a Star Guardian. How thankful was she that Ezreal wasn’t anything like them.

“You alright?” He asked. Lux didn’t know why such a little detail such as his genuine concern for her would leave a warm feeling in her chest.

“Yeah, dandy.” She replied, wiping the dirt from her shirt. “It only hurt my face…and pride.”

“It should, that was pathetic.”

Her face dropped faster than a comet. “W-what?”

Ez went down on to a knee while her brain was still processing what was said. “You wanna talk about falls, lemme show you one of mine.” He bunched up the leg of his jeans, directing her attention to a faded mark on his knee. Lux breathed in sharply once she saw the size of it; angled just above his kneecap. Instinctively, Lux rubbed her own knee in response, almost feeling the phantom pain from the wound herself. “Tripped down a flight of stairs a while back. You should’ve seen it, my teeth couldn’t stop chattering for a whole minute because my chin got decked so many times.” Ez chuckled like he was reminiscing a fond memory. “You know, I could still hear Syndra laughing at me.”

“Oh no!” Lux gasped in sympathy. “Were you ok?”

Ezreal’s finger lightly brushed along the scar. “Walking was a bit of a challenge. Nothing a cast couldn’t fix. Hope I’ll never be that bored sitting on my thumbs ever again.” Lux was blessed to see that relaxed smile of his. “The point is if you ever get embarrassed tripping on a branch or something, always remember the mental image of my face getting body-checked by like a million steps.”

Lux couldn’t stop herself from snickering. Something about that jovial sense of humor relaxed her. “C’mon, it’s just a little farther.”

Lux led them to a wide clearing within the forest overlooking a cliff. The far-off lights of the city shined from the distance, illuminating the clearing along with the glow of the moonlight and beautiful stars watching over them. Lux smiled. The sight of the inky night sky decorated with the reddish tint of the gorgeous nebulae entranced her, more than it should for someone such as her. It was nothing new to the Star Guardians.

“This,” Lux said, glancing back at Ezreal. “I uhh…wanted to show you this spot.” It was difficult for her to read his face. He analyzed the scenery intently, his eyes almost searching for something in the galactic abyss of stars. Lux’s heart dropped for the umpteenth time. A lump formed in her throat when he didn’t respond right away. Was he expecting something different? She must have been boring him for sure! What was she thinking? He was sure to have seen a million sights better than this! “U-umm…I just thought that uhh,” Come on Lux, use your words. “I thought it was…pretty.” I MEANT BETTER WORDS.

“I think it’s-”

“I know! It’s lame!” Lux blurted. “I wasn’t thinking!” She rambled. “We spend like 80 percent of our time in space! I just wanted to show you this little spot because I come here a lot and-and-”

“Actually, I think it’s pretty too.”

Ez didn’t stop marveling at the sight. He took a few steps forward, stopping just at the edge of the cliff before sitting down. Lux, still in disbelief, slowly joined him. “You know what’s weird?” He asked. “It’s amazingly easy to forget the Star in Star Guardians.”

Lux blinked. “What do you mean?”

Still mesmerized, he looked back at her. “We never take a minute to really experience what we…you know, guard.” Ez rubbed the back of his head. “Not sure if I’m making sense…”

His words buzzed in her mind. In her short time defending the planet, her team hadn’t stopped once to take in the fact that they were spacefaring superheroes. It would be easy to think that staring at a starry night sky after flying through it effortlessly would be underwhelming. Why stop and look when they’re already part of your job? Not Lux, however. And thankfully, not Ez.

“No, I get it.” Lux approached him, seating herself next to him atop the cliff. She felt her cheeks heat up when it dawned on her that she hadn’t been this close to his face before.

Seeing his blonde and teal colored locks this up close sent a certain heat to her cheeks. She really hadn’t been this up close before. Was she being weird? He wasn’t paying attention anything other than the stars.

“They say that we’re protectors.” He continued. “I think maybe I wanna get a little taste of what we’re protecting.”

Lux’s arm acted out of its own free will, looking to take advantage of Ezreal’s unsuspecting hand. She was unable to tell if he had registered her fingers wrapping around his palm. He seemed so…relaxed. The tranquil air reached her as well. Moments passed. Time passed the two teenagers by as the wordlessly enjoyed the peaceful shine of the moon.

The unthinkable occurred. Lux’s eyes widened in response to the sudden weight falling on her shoulder. Her thoughts were abuzz attempting to concoct a myriad of outlandish explanations as to why something soft and comfortable had taken up residence on her arm. Star’s forbid that a certain blonde demigod space warrior knight was legitimately pulling a romance novel cliché on her, less her face swell with the amount of blood flowing to her cheeks.

“Ez?”

There was no response. Only slow, light breathing, followed by a sound Lux was quite familiar with after sharing a room with Jinx.

Leave it to Star Guardian, Ez, to make even snoring attractive.

Ezreal slumped onto Lux’s shoulder, all but completely knocked out. He seemed so upbeat and attentive not seconds ago. Lux glanced at her phone, seeing that it was already quarter-to-one in the morning. They both had their respective dorms to go back to, especially considering the two guardians had a full day of school to look forward to, running on – what? Five hours of sleep?

Lux wanted to find the power to wake him up so they could awkwardly ignore the fact that they were a stone’s throw away from essentially cuddling themselves to sleep. Yet, unsurprisingly, she couldn’t. She could kill malicious void monstrosities from other planets but Luxana Crownguard was unable to resist the tempting enticements of a romantic embrace under the stars with a boy.

So she didn’t.

It wasn’t long before the drowsiness made Lux’s eyelids ten times heavier. She let herself plop onto the now pillowy soft grass, leaving Ezreal to comfortably use her an impromptu pillow. Lux thought to set the alarm on her phone, to not turn the next a.m. into a stress-addled mad dash of a morning rush. Her (soon to be un)conscious mind decided it wasn’t worth the hassle. They were both still Star Guardians. Surely the measly morning rush couldn’t be that much of a challenge.

…

……………..

Eyes cracking open in a cold sweat, Lux set her alarm to full volume.

[daleisgreat]

Last Action Hero

Today’s entry will result in one of the quickest turnaround times of an older movie in my backlog box yet. A couple weeks ago I noticed Uproxx posted an article on how 1993’s Last Action Hero (trailer) was way ahead of its time (click or press here for the Uproxx piece). Once I noticed this story I tracked down a BluRay copy of it off Amazon and promptly watched it within 24 hours of its delivery. I did not read the Uproxx entry yet, but I will after I finish proofing this entry to prevent it from altering my current thoughts I am about to deliver and will post a little addendum at the end of this look back at Last Action Hero for some extra insight on how my take compares with Uproxx’s. I cannot remember how many times I watched Last Action Hero as a kid, but my gut tells me it may be near the double digits. Our family had the HBO and Starz movie channels as part of our cable package back then, and the way those channels primarily were programmed back then was a specific amount of newer and older movies were highlighted each month, and they would play each movie once every day or two to the best of my recollection. I remember being stoked for Last Action Hero. The turnaround time on movies from the theater back then in the early 90s was it would take about five to six months after the cinema release for a film to hit Pay-Per-View and home video. Several months later, or roughly a year after release it would hit the premium cable movie channels like HBO, Starz and Cinemax in their original form. Another year or two after that it would be available for local and basic cable channels, but usually in an edited and censored/FCC friendly format. Our family could only afford trips to the theater and video rentals so many times a year, so if we missed a movie in either of those formats and it wound up on HBO/Starz it was kind of a guilty pleasure in my childhood boredom days to pick an anticipated movie like Last Action Hero and watch it as many times as possible the first month it was available.

I have not seen it since then however when I was 11 and have not thought much about it since LAH is not as highly regarded as other Arnold Schwarzenegger classics even though it hit at the tail end of Arnold’s prime (which I consider to be from 1984’s original Terminator through 1994’s True Lies). When it hit theaters in 1993 I remember a ton of hype for it getting ubiquitous advertising and the requisite hot-summer-movie-licensed videogame and pinball table. The pinball table is part of the many licensed tables included in Pinball Arcade on PS4 which I also played a few rounds of before diving into the movie. In 1993 Arnold was the big name action star fresh off his Terminator 2 success. He also dabbled in the occasional comedy like Kindergarten Cop and Jingle All the Way. LAH marked Arnold’s first action comedy however. Schwarzenegger portrays big name action movie star ‘Jack Slater.’ Danny (Austin O’Brien) is Slater’s #1 fan on top of being a middle school film guru where he routinely cuts class to catch flicks at the local cinema where he is best friends with the old-timer projectionist there, Nick (Robert Prosky). Daniel is promised by Nick an after-hours exclusive showing of the wildly anticipated Jack Slater IV. To celebrate the special showing, Nick gives Danny a special ‘magical’ movie ticket that Nick states he got from legendary magician Houdini himself as a kid, but was too afraid to use it. Through cinema magic, the ticket activates and Danny is warped into the movie world of Jack Slater IV as his new reality when he winds up magically transported into the backseat of Slater’s ride in the middle of a cliché action movie car chase.

Danny is thrilled being immersed in an action movie world filled with the clichés and tropes of the genre that he gleefully points out and references past film lore to help Jack track down his latest bad guy. Slater has none of it and takes in Danny in for questioning. Slater’s over-the-top-gruffy captain, Dekker (Frank McRae) is impressed with Danny’s knowledge and makes him Slater’s new partner. Slater begrudgingly works together with Danny to track down Slater’s current most wanted baddie, Benedict (Charles Dance). The film unravels from there in a world jam-packed with the aforementioned clichés that Danny constantly breaks the fourth wall by showing off his action movie fandom by pointing out how all the women in this universe are hyper-sexualized, indulging Slater’s gratuitous one-liners, how Slater instantly pops up from battles unscathed and how the bad guy stereotypically monologues too long to give Slater a chance to make the heroic comeback. 11 year-old-Dale was the perfect target age for LAH when I first saw it in 1994. I experienced the filmed vicariously through Danny and I was right there with Danny for how wicked it would be to magically transport alongside your movie hero in his latest summer blockbuster and helping him bust bad guys and be in the middle of an extravagant chase scenes overstuffed with special effects. I think a big part of me held off forever re-watching this again because I dismissed LAH as a satire film over the years that I loved as a kid, but thought I thought I would outgrow over the years. After my recent re-watch however, I emerged surprised how wrong I was. Seeing it with a grown-up’s set of eyes significantly helped with a new understanding of filmmaking references and other off-color jokes that went right over my childhood head. I also got a whole new appreciation of the scene where Danny takes Slater to a video store in his universe to show him how awesome he is in Terminator 2 only to instead see in that world Sylvester Stallone landed the role.

Speaking of guest stars, the cameos are through the roof in LAH. There are some blink and you miss it surprise cameos, and then there are exponentially more in the final act where Danny takes Slater back into the ‘real’ world in time for the red carpet movie premiere of Jack Slater IV. The premiere sees the likes of Little Richard, MC Hammer, Jean Claude Van Damme and a few other recognizable celebrities of that era. Back in 1994 I was probably only lucky enough to recognize Van Damme from his role as Guile in the underappreciated Street Fighter, but reliving it again with a new set of eyes made that scene pop in a whole new way. Needless to say, Last Action Hero was a surprise delight to experience in 2020. If I had any nitpicks it is that it was not as brisk a watch as I recalled as it clocks in a little over two hours and I came out of it feeling they could have trimmed at least a good 10 minutes or so off. For as big a deal LAH was when it hit in 1993 it was a bit of a buzzkill to see the no-frills BluRay have a complete lack of extras. I would have loved all-star action movie director John McTiernan (Predator, the good Die Hard films) do a commentary track with Arnold and a few other bonus extras, but it regrettably was not meant to be. At least I have this Uproxx take I can now peruse that will have to suffice for a bonus of some degree…..

Alrighty, I just finished the Uproxx 27 years later take on LAH and we share a lot of similarities. Uproxx’s Mike Ryan thesis is that LAH was too meta and ahead of its time in 1993, but perfect for a 2020 viewing experience. I could not agree with him more, and he grinds out the little references and meta-details more eloquently than I can here, so I highly urge you all to give his editorial a perusal. One key takeaway from Ryan’s article on why Last Action Hero came and went back then was because it made the big time mistake of releasing one week after Jurassic Park. No wonder it is not brought up with other classic Arnold films over the years. I am right there with Ryan on how LAH is an absolute marvel of a film, and if it has slipped by you all these years later then now is the perfect time to watch it in these pandemic times with zero movies hitting theaters nowadays. 1993’s Last Action Hero is the ideal 2020 summer blockbuster! BONUS EXTRAS TO COMPENSATE FOR BLURAY’S ABSENCE OF ANY Click or press here to check out this awesomely through ‘Did You Know’ style breakdown of facts and backstage filming secrects from Mental Floss Here is an incredibly thorough two part oral history of LAH complete with interview excerpts from the cast and crew And I will leave you with Cinemassacre’s ‘Rental Review’ roundtable of Last Action Hero….

Other Random Backlog Movie Blogs 3 12 Angry Men (1957) 12 Rounds 3: Lockdown 21 Jump Street The Accountant Angry Video Game Nerd: The Movie Atari: Game Over The Avengers: Age of Ultron The Avengers: Infinity War Batman: The Dark Knight Rises Batman: The Killing Joke Batman: Mask of the Phantasm Batman V Superman: Dawn of Justice Bounty Hunters Cabin in the Woods Captain America: Civil War Captain America: The First Avenger Captain America: The Winter Soldier Christmas Eve Clash of the Titans (1981) Clint Eastwood 11-pack Special The Condemned 2 Countdown Creed I & II Deck the Halls Detroit Rock City Die Hard Dredd The Eliminators The Equalizer Dirty Work Faster Fast and Furious I-VIII Field of Dreams Fight Club The Fighter For Love of the Game Good Will Hunting Gravity Grunt: The Wrestling Movie Guardians of the Galaxy Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2 Hell Comes to Frogtown Hercules: Reborn Hitman I Like to Hurt People Indiana Jones 1-4 Ink The Interrogation Interstellar Jay and Silent Bob Reboot Jobs Joy Ride 1-3 Major League Man of Steel Man on the Moon Man vs Snake Marine 3-6 Merry Friggin Christmas Metallica: Some Kind of Monster Mortal Kombat Mortal Kombat Legends: Scorpions Revenge National Treasure National Treasure: Book of Secrets Not for Resale Pulp Fiction The Replacements Reservoir Dogs Rocky I-VIII Running Films Part 1 Running Films Part 2 San Andreas ScoobyDoo Wrestlemania Mystery The Secret Life of Walter Mitty Shoot em Up Slacker Skyscraper Small Town Santa Steve Jobs Source Code Star Trek I-XIII Sully Take Me Home Tonight TMNT The Tooth Fairy 1 & 2 UHF Veronica Mars Vision Quest The War Wild Wonder Woman The Wrestler (2008) X-Men: Apocalypse X-Men: Days of Future Past

[silly-nonny-fics-are-for-fandoms]

Every Thousand Years

For the SinJa Headcanon and AU Week: Day one, Reincarnation.

How many years had it been? No matter how much he tried, Ja’far couldn’t recall. Just how many lives had he been searching for him?

With every new life, there were things that subtly changed, and the pale man feared one day so much would change that he wouldn’t even recognize him, but his heart ached and told him that no matter what, he’d know Sinbad. How could he not? Sin was unforgettable, irresistible, irreplaceable.

He’d lived several lives without him, though he could barely remember most.

The first, he hadn’t even known what was wrong. Something had been… Missing. It had ruined his relationship, caused him so much stress he didn’t study, got kicked out of several schools, and being bullied and abused led to suicide.

Lives two and three, he did better. He had an average life, had children, and had a good job before being murdered in the second and died in an accident in the third.

The next several weren’t so good. Ja’far had joined a gang and perished in a raid, became addicted to drugs and died from the overdose and fought in a bloody war, and died in action.

Something was always missing.

Those were the ones he could remember, but he never lived passed 31 in any of the lives he’d lived; that much he knew. And, he knew in his most recent life before this, that he’d met everyone else from his first life when he was seven. All the memories from every previous life had come rushing back to him, and together they’d figured out that it had been around two thousand years since they’d all died the first time.

And like that, everything fell into place. Rurumu and Hinahoho adopted him just as they did before, and things were almost reminiscent of how everything used to be, although they were all more normally sized and without the power of the djinns.

Except… Everyone still died at the same ages or before. Rurumu always died at twenty-seven, Mystras at eighteen or nineteen depending on when he was born, and Vittel and Mahad with them.

He wanted it to end. He wanted to stop it. But he couldn’t. Ja’far couldn’t change anything on that scale, only prolong the inevitable.

And then it happened.

He knew this life was somewhere around number seventeen, and he was eight years old. This time, Ja’far’d followed the path of his first life, that of an assassin. They’d sent him on a mission, some remote city, just to scope it out for a new base.

So he’d donned his civilian clothes; a black and white striped long sleeve shirt, jeans and sneakers with a jacket and small black backpack filled with medical supplies and weapons in case of an attack.

The buildings were somewhat modern, but there were a few older houses decaying around. Ja’far wondered why they’d set up base here; Out in the open, small town far from anything big, easy to track if you run to the area.

And then he realized why no one wanted to be here.

All around, no matter where he looked, were only children and women; This was an army town. Every man was shipped off to the war, and people usually avoided it because they didn’t want the same to happen to them.

Damn this government. I could run it better in my sleep! Ja’far thought, glancing around the place. This country was constantly going to war, and in this sandy desert area, it showed the way they treated the families of their soldiers. The boy knew the only reason there were even somewhat modern buildings there was to keep the people docile, and keep the soldiers fighting because they had somewhere to go back to that was more pleasant than the battlefield.

Ja’far’d seen several towns like this, but he wondered why his boss wanted this place. So, carefully he gripped the pistol in his jacket, expecting to be jumped at any moment.

The people of the village ignored him, and whenever a child stared at him, their mother would quietly turn them around and chastise them.

“So this place doesn’t get a lot of visitors, huh?” Muttered Ja’far, stopping when he heard a cheering from a distance and noticed a bunch of the children running in the direction he was walking.

“He’s back!!” They cheered, and the pale boy rolled his eyes. Children were very excitable.

Ja’far pondered what exactly they were so happy about, and decided to investigate. Staying about six paces behind the children, leaning against a wall and waited.

Coming into town on a bike with a small trailer filled with boxes attached seemed to be a teenager, barely, with a slim yet muscular build and… No…

Long purple hair.

The boy riding the bike had on jeans and a gray t-shirt, and Ja’far told himself not to get his hopes up. Don’t do it. Don’t…

When the bike stopped, and the teen got off the seat, he said, “Hey guys! They delivered the supplies today, so go on, let’s bring this around.”

The kids crowded the teen, and they shouted his name happily.

“Sinbad!” “Sin!”

And Ja’far stood there, completely frozen, as Sinbad looked up from the children and made eye contact with him. Slowly, Sinbad’s expression turned from happiness and joy to shock and tears started brimming his eyes. He started walking over to him, and the children moved out of the way.

Ja’far began crying as Sinbad grabbed him and held him tightly, whispering over and over again “Ja’far.. Ja’far you’re here… I…” and other mindless things.

Sinbad pulled back from the hug for only a moment before kissing Ja’far gently and shakily, and Ja’far wrapped his arms around Sinbad’s neck carefully, almost as if he would vanish at any moment.

Finally, for the first time since s arms around Sinbad’s neck carefully, almost as if he would vanish at any moment.

Finally, for the first time since his first life, nothing was missing anymore.

When the kiss finally ended, Sinbad whispered, “What are you doing here?”

“I… It’s a long story.” Ja’far murmured, not wanting to tell Sinbad he was an assassin again.

“Then we don’t have time for it; I’ve got so much to tell you!” The teenager let go of the hug and took ahold of his hand, and started walking towards the older part of the town.

“Sin! Sin where are you taking me?” Ja’far asked, making sure to keep up with him.

“To meet my mother, Ja’far. Oh, and while we’re walking, you can tell me why you have these.” Sinbad responded, holding up Ja’far’s pistol and a small bag with white powder, not looking back at the smaller boy.

Ja’far didn’t even begin to question how Sinbad got those from his pockets.

“I… Sin those are-“

“Tell me this honestly, did you become an assassin again, and are they keeping you with drugs?” Sinbad’s tone was flat, concealing rage.

Ja’far was silent for a moment.

“Yes.” He felt like he was facing down Rurumu again, being chastised for being how the guild trained him to be.

“Then, we’re gonna get you off these and you’re going to stop being an assassin; got it?”

This time, Sin didn’t conceal his anger, tightening his grip on Ja’far’s hand as they walked.

“Sin that’s not-“

“I know it isn’t an easy thing to do, but I’ve never shied away from a challenge before. Besides, I’m only here every thousand years, I’m going to fix things while I can, and that means making sure you live a clean life like you should.”

Ja’far froze, halting his walking and he began to shake.

“Ja’far, I need you to listen. You… You don’t need me. I don’t know if I can fix things, or make it so I can be reborn like the rest of you guys can, but I’m going to try. You have to prepare yourself in case I can’t.”

“Stop it…”

“This is serious, Ja’far.” Sinbad finally turned to face Ja’far.

“Stop it! The Sin I know would NEVER say can’t! Never say try! He always just did it!” Ja’far yelled, and started crying again.

“I’m different here Ja’far… I screwed up in my first life… So I’m going to fix it now. I couldn’t do it last time, and I did it the wrong way the first time. I’m asking you; Even if I’m different, will you still follow me?” Sinbad whispered, kissing away the tears.

Ja’far nodded, trying to rationalize what he was doing, but finding he didn’t need to.

When you’re with Sinbad, things will always change; And for better or worse, Ja’far would be right next to him.

[animationnut]

Piece By Piece: Chapter 9

Fandom: Red vs. Blue Rating: T (to be safe) Summary: Platonic Soulmate AU. Grif spent most of his life without soulmarks. He tried to convince himself that he didn’t care. He had his sister. She was more than enough. After all, what were the odds he would find his soulmates in the army? 

                                                     First Chapter

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Trudging down the corridor, Tucker half-heartedly acknowledged the enthusiastic greetings of New Republic soldiers as they scurried past him. He reached the barracks and went to the very back of the building, where the room he shared with Grif, Caboose and Simmons was located. Having their own private space was one of the only bright sides he could see since being forcefully enlisted in Chorus’ civil war.

The second he stepped foot in his room Tucker yanked off his helmet and tossed it on his bed. He took off his armour, wrinkling his nose at the sweat stains marking his long-sleeved shirt. The thought of a shower was enticing but he couldn’t find the strength in his exhausted bones to traverse to the shared shower stalls. Simmons would probably throw a fit if he went there during the day anyhow. He was insistent on keeping their soulmarks hidden. They were on a foreign planet in the middle of a warzone and anyone could try to use their marks against them.

Tucker didn’t see the point in the secrecy. After all, Caboose had figured out they were soulmates even before getting most of their marks. If he could connect the dots, it wasn’t going to be hard for anyone else to do so. And Lopez having his metallic body covered in coloured serial codes was already a dead give-away, as far as he was concerned.

He stripped off his shirt and tossed it over his shoulder. He stared at the colours that littered his body, heart falling as his eyes moved over pink, purple, red, grey and brown. Between constantly training with his squad, dwelling over the imprisonment of Sarge, Donut, Lopez and Washington and internally freaking out over where exactly the teleportation grenades had sent Doc, he wasn’t getting much sleep.

The door slid open but before Tucker could move to see who it was, a hand suddenly clamped over his eyes. Tucker would have been slightly alarmed if he wasn’t immediately flooded with feelings of comfort and the soothing scent of rainwater. He instinctively set his hand against his soulmark on his captor’s wrist.

‘Guess who!’

‘Caboose.’

‘How did you know?’

Amused by Caboose’s shock, Tucker replied, ‘Kind of doesn’t work when you ask that question during a soul-bond, dude.’

‘Rats.’

Though Caboose was emotionally fragile, he handled the emotions of his soulmates really well. He met Tucker’s sadness and frustration with unwavering reassurance. He believed they would get the others back soon and once they were together they would find Doc and go home.

Stepping away, Tucker sighed and said, “I know. It just sucks. We’re supposed to be captains and we can’t run a squad for crap.”

“We will get better,” said Caboose confidently. “Practice makes perfect.”

Tucker glanced over at him, raising an eyebrow at the turtleneck and jeans Caboose sported. “What exactly happened to your armour?”

“It broke,” said Caboose with a shrug. “Mechanic man is fixing it now. My helmet screen is fuzzy and gives me a headache.”

“Well, at least you remembered to keep your marks covered,” said Tucker.

Caboose pouted. “I don’t like that part.”

“Don’t complain to me. Complain to Simmons.”

“I have to wear winter shirts. They are very hot.” Caboose yanked off his turtleneck and went to get a thinner, shorter-sleeved shirt. A flash of orange caught Tucker’s attention and he stared at Grif’s handprint curling over Caboose’s shoulder.

There was a sharp pang in his chest. Tucker was very much aware of the unfilled mark on his own shoulder. Huffing out a breath, he crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t get it.”

“Me either.” Wrestling into a light blue T-shirt, Caboose popped his head through the neck hole and asked, “What don’t we get?”

“Why haven’t Grif and I soul-bonded yet?”

“It isn’t time,” answered Caboose simply.

Tucker wanted to argue with that, but had to admit that Caboose had a point, which he strangely always did when it came to the matter of soulmates. He and Grif had opportunities to soul-bond in the past but it just didn’t happen. That pull, that instinct, to reach out and place his hand against Grif hadn’t occurred. And it was driving Tucker crazy.

“It’s been years, though! I got Wash’s mark a few weeks after he joined up with us.”

“That’s because it was time.”

“Yeah, time, fate and all that. I get it.” Tucker rolled his eyes. “Still sucks.”

The door clanged open, causing the two Blues to jump. Simmons and Grif entered, arguing as they usually were.

“For the last time, I did follow the signal!” snapped Grif, yanking off his helmet. Irritation creased his forehead as he glared at Simmons.

“That wasn’t the signal, Grif! When did I say cocking my gun equaled the signal?”

“Rough day?” asked Tucker dryly.

“Tell me about it,” grumbled Grif, beginning to take off his armour.

Simmons eyes locked onto the aquamarine plating piled on the floor and a burst of panic went through his chest at the missing blue-coloured equipment. “Caboose, what happened to your armour?” At the exposed soulmarks, he asked in horror, “You didn’t go out like that, did you?”

“No. I had a sweater on. My armour broke so a nice man with one eye is fixing it. He’s kind of scary.”

“You have to be more careful Caboose,” said Simmons in exasperation. “You should have asked for replacement armour.”

“But I didn’t want someone else’s armour. I want my own.”

“You can’t walk around in civilian clothes, Caboose. We’re in a warzone. What if a sniper tried to take a shot?”

“I…I did not think about snipers,” said Caboose with a slow blink.

“Well, you have to! You have to think about these things, Caboose. A stupid decision means you could be killed.”

When Caboose shrunk back, Tucker whirled to glare at Simmons. “Lay off. It’s not like he charged into gunfire without protection. He took a walk through the base.”

“Which is still full of people we don’t know,” said Simmons tightly. “The rule is when we leave this room, we have our armour on at all times.”

“I don’t like that rule,” said Caboose sadly. “I want to show people my Best Friend marks.”

“You can’t,” said Simmons shortly.

“Dude, chill out,” cut in Grif.

“Chill out? I can’t chill out! We’re trying to train our own squads in order to rescue the others and no one is taking it seriously!”

“Screw you, I’m taking it very seriously!” said Tucker sharply. “I’ve been running drills with these guys for hours while you two sat on your asses all day because you can’t stop arguing!”

“Don’t act high and mighty. Not when you don’t have anything to show for it. If we want to save Sarge and the rest—”

“Don’t,” snarled Tucker, getting into Simmons’ face, “say if. It’s when. And I’m sick of you and your rules. Take showers during dinner hour. Abide by curfew. Keep running the maneuvers until we get them right. Wear your armour out at all times. I spent years waiting for my soulmarks. I’m not keeping them hidden now.”

“And what will happen if someone makes the connection between the colours of your soulmarks to the colours of our armour?” demanded Simmons.

“These guys are on our side! They need us to win their war! Why would they turn against us?”

“Do the words betrayal and double-agent not exist in your vocabulary? We don’t know these people, Tucker.”

“Simmons is right, as much as it pains me to say it,” said Grif. “Maybe it’s not the best idea to flaunt our soulmarks in unknown territory.”

“Oh, like damage hasn’t already been done,” said Tucker bitterly. “You already lost Doc.”

There was a stricken silence as Grif reeled backwards out of shock. Simmons stormed over and loomed over Tucker. “Apologize,” he growled.

Tucker kept his posture straight and defiant. Simmons’ anger burned through him but it was Grif’s hurt that practically pierced his heart. Caboose observed them with wide, worried eyes. “Get out of my way,” Tucker said at last, shoving him aside. “You think you’re a leader. You sure like to act like one. But you sure have done jack all.”

He grabbed his discarded shirt and wrestled it on as he left the room, slamming the door so hard it shook in its frame. Simmons’ anger dissolved instantly after he left, transforming into dismay. He sunk to the floor, rubbing at his face as a headache started to build in his temples.

“Great job, Simmons,” he muttered. “Grif, you okay?”

“Fine,” Grif said tonelessly. “He’s not wrong.”

“He did not mean it,” said Caboose earnestly. “He is just very sad.”

“So are we, Caboose,” said Simmons tiredly. “So are we. I better go find him.”

“I’ll do it,” offered Grif.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea—" began Simmons.

“Why not?” asked Grif with a raised brow. “Better me than you. Least he’s not likely to bite my head off.”

Simmons flinched back at that. “Well…what about you?”

“Like I said. He’s not wrong.” Trying to keep lump in this throat from growing any bigger, he kept a stiff smile on his features as he turned to Caboose. “Cheer him up Caboose.”

“Okay!”

As Grif started out of the room, Simmons started, “Grif, you’re—”

“Dude, not the time,” returned Grif curtly before letting the door clang shut behind him.

He started down the corridor, mentally running through the places Tucker would have gone to cool off. They hadn’t been at the base for too long to know the ins and outs. Partly to appease Simmons and partly because he was paranoid, Grif jerked up the collar of his shirt to cover Sarge’s soulmark that wrapped around his chin. He wrestled both hands into his long sleeves to keep Donut’s and Kai’s marks from showing.

The hurt that swelled in his chest was almost unbearable but he managed to keep it contained. There was enough negativity channeling through their soul-links. He didn’t need to add on to it. But the thought of Doc, lost somewhere, waiting for them to find him…

He jolted slightly at the sudden rush of exasperation and affection from Doc. Though it was his fault Doc had been swept away by the teleportation grenades, Doc held no ill-will towards him. They couldn’t communicate with words but feelings were just as powerful. Grif couldn’t stop the regret, but he knew it wasn’t as strong, wasn’t as prickly. He was forgiving himself, bit by bit, and Doc’s satisfaction seeped through at the slow healing process.

Giving his head a slight shake, Grif focussed on the present, letting Doc’s optimism distract him from Simmons’ distress and the concern from the others.

He stopped the first solider he came upon and asked, “Have you seen Tucker?”

“Captain Tucker passed by a few minutes ago,” she confirmed. To her credit, she kept a straight face even though he probably looked like a lunatic with his shirt yanked up to his mouth. “He was heading for the mess hall.”

“Tch. Should have thought of that myself,” grumbled Grif. Food was a universal cure for grief and heartbreak, after all.

He twisted down the corridors to the mess hall. He found Tucker at a metal table in the very back of the empty rectangular room, shoulders hunched forwards. He tensed when the doors creaked open and peeked over his shoulder. He immediately turned back around at the sight of Grif.

Grif went to take a seat beside him, propping a hand against his cheek. “You know, the point of hiding out in the mess hall is to stuff your face with grease, sugar and salt.”

Tucker let out a short laugh. “Tried. But rations are a thing here. Nothing good to eat anyway. I’d kill for chocolate ice-cream.”

“Damn, me too,” sighed Grif longingly.

Scrubbing his hands down his face, Tucker said tiredly, “You should be punching me in the face right about now.”

“I should,” agreed Grif. “That was a dick move. But you’re right. I was careless. I lost Doc. I’m the reason he’s not here right now.”

“We’ll find him. I know we’ll find him.” Tucker let his hands fall against the table, bitterness on his face. “The universe sure likes tearing us apart and flinging us back together.” Glancing over at Grif, he said remorsefully, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t really mean it.”

“It’s okay,” said Grif with a shrug. “We’re all pretty messed up right now.”

“I just want to get the others and get the hell out of here. Why can’t we train these soldiers?”

Grif grinned. “Dude, it’s hard to train soldiers when we’re the worst ones in the galaxy.”

Brow furrowing slightly, Tucker muttered thoughtfully, “Yeah…I guess.”

“But we’ll figure it out. We don’t have a choice.”

“I know.” Letting out a heavy breath, Tucker stood. “I guess we better get back. Simmons is probably losing his mind.”

“Probably,” agreed Grif with a smirk. “We did step outside our room without armour. That’s like, a crime worthy of the death penalty.”

He reached out to clap Tucker’s shoulder and Tucker froze at the fierce charge that surged through his soul. His hand moved of its own accord, pressing against Grif’s right side as their souls mingled together. Grif’s breath caught in his throat at the intensity of the emotions that swelled within him.

Though regret still lingered, his exuberance was stronger. The emptiness of the unfilled mark was gone, replaced with Grif’s emotions and solid connection to his soul. Grif was awash with the scent of strawberries and spices, homecooked macaroni and cheese and tuna casserole. It was the sensations of comfort food and a warm environment that cloaked around him, making him feel secure and safe.

‘Dude, it took you long enough!’

Grif gave a mental snort. ‘Please. Like I could help it.’

‘I know. But I thought…’

‘It might not happen. I know.’

‘Which doesn’t make any sense, right? I mean, I have Lopez’s serial code imprinted on my skin. Don’t know why I was worried I wouldn’t get your soulmark.’

‘What else did you think orange stood for?’

‘I don’t know. A pumpkin? Which is basically you in food form.’

‘Oh, screw you.’

Their souls clicked and Grif let go, moving to swat Tucker across the back of his head. “If I have to hear one more fat joke I’m going to kill somebody. Preferably Matthews.”

“Yeah right,” snorted Tucker. “You love that guy.”

“I do not.”

“You do so.”

“Shut up.” His annoyed glare cooling, he said knowingly, “Did your blow-up have anything to do with a certain asshole who skipped out on us?”

Tucker shot him an unimpressed look. “If you were digging into my soul as much as I was digging into yours, you know the answer.”

“I get why you’re angry with him. I am too. He could have at least said something. But at the same time, it’s Church.”

“I know, I know. But I can’t believe he just left us,” said Tucker with a resentful scowl, kicking at the metal leg of the table in frustration. “We at least deserved a ‘see you morons later’.”

Grif snorted. “That would have been appreciated.”

Running a hand through his dark dreadlocks, Tucker sent a sheepish glance at Grif. “I guess I’ve been projecting onto you guys a little bit.”

“No kidding,” drawled Grif.

“I’ll try to chill.”

“Good. We can only handle one stressed-out emotional wreck around here. If you feel like blowing up at somebody, just scream at Matthews. Always makes me feel better.”

“Nah, I think Palomo would fit the bill better,” said Tucker with a smirk.

“And if that doesn’t work, try to stop blocking Church’s emotions. The guy does feel bad about ditching us like that.”

Tucker hesitated for a moment. As stubborn as he was, keeping a constant emotional barrier against Church through their soul-link was draining and definitely not helping his mood. He was tired, tired of being distant from his soulmates. Taking a breath, he slowly let Church’s emotions flow through him, momentarily unsteady at the strong rush of relief at his surrender, followed by annoyance and, as Grif said, remorse.

At Grif’s smug smirk, Tucker rolled his eyes. “Since when did you turn into a therapist?”

“I don’t think you’re allowed to be a therapist when you’re insane,” deadpanned Grif. “Come on. Let’s get back to Caboose and Simmons.”

They started out of the mess hall and Tucker watched as Grif once more tucked his hands in the sleeves of his shirt and kept his chin snug in the collar. “You look stupid.”

“Well damn, it’s the only way to keep them hidden,” snapped Grif. “Simmons doesn’t sleep as it is. Might as well keep one thing off of his mind.”

Tucker flinched. “Guess I’m not making it easier.”

“Nope.”

Entering the space, they came upon Simmons, dressed in a red sweater and black jeans, who was wrapped up in Caboose’s embrace on the floor. They both perked up when they entered and sprang to their feet. “Tucker,” began Simmons nervously.

Tucker didn’t give him a chance to speak further, striding across the room and setting his hand over where he knew his soulmark rested beneath fabric. Simmons stilled for a moment before sagging with relief. He lifted his hand and set it against Tucker’s side, and for a brief moment they took comfort in their soul-bond.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered when Tucker pulled away. He knew it didn’t really have to be said, but he felt like he needed to.

“Me too,” said Tucker sincerely. “I know you have these rules for a reason. I’ll try to follow them.”

“Thanks. I’ll try not be a hard ass.”

Tucker snickered. “Yeah, let’s try to keep our vows realistic.”

Simmons shot Tucker a flat look. “Very funny. I see you finally stopped giving Church the cold shoulder.”

Tucker wrinkled his nose, even as he felt Church’s affection and returned it. “You’re my dudes and all, but being linked up with you twenty-four/seven can be really annoying.”

“Yay! We are not fighting anymore!” said Caboose cheerfully.

“Nope. And guess what?” When Caboose stared at him expectantly, Tucker jerked off his shirt, revealing the new orange mark on his shoulder.

“It was time!” said Caboose in delight. “Now we all have matching marks!”

He swept the three up in his arms, swinging them around the room. “Caboose, we talked about this!” rasped Simmons, Caboose’s arm digging into his ribcage.

“Almost,” spoke Tucker, too used to Caboose’s bone-crushing hugs to be bothered by the affect on his lungs. He had one lone spot left to fill and he knew exactly who it belonged to. “Carolina better get her butt back here. I need to kick Church’s ass and I need her soulmark.”

“You can’t kick an A.I.’s ass, Tucker,” said Grif, trying to loosen Caboose’s hold as he rolled his eyes.

“Maybe not, but I’ll sure as hell try.”

[salemspoint-blog]

❝ Little soldier boy, when will you remember, this is not who you were. Now you just kill without remorse and dread the morning light. Little soldier boy, where was your innocence lost. ❞

» Zeke Callen » Twenty-six » Hunter » Security at Knife's Edge » Bob Morley

Physical Appearance —

Zeke has always been a very well put together person without all the effort that goes with it. His unruly hair hasn’t seen a comb or brush in years and takes nothing more than a quick tug of fingers through his hair to tousle it out of his face. Plain t-shirts are his go to, generally matched with dark jeans or cargo’s and even those he was issued with in the military. Boots scuffed to all hell and stained with questionable dark marks. Whatever he wears is usually worn because of it’s capacity to conceal weapons, pockets, ties, etc. He doesn’t often wear jackets, they don’t do much for the fact of overall sudden movement, but bomer’s are usually his staple, draped over the passenger seat of his truck or discarded on the floor of his home. His body is marred in multiple scars, most of which he couldn’t tell you how he got them, however, his chest in particular is quite a shock to see, the markings left behind from a curse more covering more than sixty percent of his abdomen. Zeke has the date of his parents death tattooed across the curve of his right hip though he has no intentions of getting anything else permanently marked on him.

His sharp tongue cuts through most conversations, a deep timbre that is difficult to miss, Zeke carries himself like a man built for war. Every step he takes is with reason and everything he does has purpose. If he can get away with standing still for hours, he will – already trained to become unnoticable to the naked eye. He’s never slouched a day in his life and he will always opt to stand with his back to a solid wall rather than an opening of any kind. His life began at thirteen and ever since he’s found ways to adapt himself into a predator, rather than living helplessly as prey. His broad shoulders often make him look much bigger than he is though he often uses that to his advantage in terms of intimidation tactics, not that he very well needs to be intimidating, his overall demeanor holds enough of it already. Collected and calm, Zeke more often than not seems bored in the face of discord and chaos, but he merely functions better with a clear purpose in mind; survival.

Personality Traits —

♦ Ambitious, protective, and cunning ♢ Callous, impulsive, and sadistic

Biography —

Lego pieces in the shapes of bullets. Sturdy and silver, clinking together in dark pockets always seemed to pull the attention of a bright eyed, curly haired boy barely capable of reaching high enough to delve into the depths. Stories of nightmares that couldn’t possibly be real, of people turning into animals and creatures that fed off the blood within his very veins all plagued his growing days. Lessons in how to be evasive, to slip undetected, to cause maximum damage with a closed fist all before his mother called them inside for dinner; Zeke Callen didn’t live a life of any normal child, but he found it difficult to wish for anything other than what he got. A doting mother who would have given him the wold, had he chosen the path of anything other than family legacy. A father passionate and in-tune with a protective streak that no human parent would ever think to consider. Bruises became something to be proud of, broken bones just another obstacle to overcome and neither was he left to believe that one or the other would ever break him.

Born to Benjamin and Allison Callen, both highly respected hunters of their time, Zeke was never meant to live the life that his ancestry had paved for him; his parents had never wanted it. Normalcy. Family. Children. Hope. He was to live a life filled with hope. With a mouthful of laughter and a heart bursting of the kind of love that made his chest feel like breaking open to allow heartbeat to echo throughout time. The Callen boy was given the knowledge of everything his parents could give him – handed to him on a silver platter, but taught to turn a blind eye. For every darkness that lingered on every corner, he was to know and protect in the most basic sense. To be prepared, yes, but for it to be all consuming, to rule his every god given breath?

Over their dead bodies.

Oh but an idiom as such has never been quite so ironic.

There had to have been a dozen people. There were too many pieces, he’d thought. Thirteen years old, restrained by officers as he fought tooth and nail to push past the boundary of the crime scene, trying so desperately to believe that the massacre his once bright eyes took in wasn’t just his parents. How could it be? Ripped limb from limb, shredded, features so disfigured they wouldn’t allow him to identify his own family. It could have been anyone, but the faint scent of his mothers perfume and the bullets no bigger than those god damn Lego pieces that spilled from his fathers pocket were enough. Something had destroyed every ounce of innocence he had that night; for how could any child hold onto it while looking at the mutilated corpses of the very people that ensure that innocence remained in tact?

Over their dead bodies…

Zeke took his first few steps onto the road previously paved for him since the day he was born, destined to never once stray from it ever again. Devotion to the cause, belief in his oath and a burning sense of responsibility became a constant ripple across the skin of someone no longer a boy – and nowhere close to ever being a man. Leaving Salem’s Point behind was easy, he did it without question and without complaint. What else could he learn here that his parent’s hadn’t already taught him? The world was a dangerous place, and how better to learn how to fight it, than throwing yourself head first into the very pits of hell. For years he traveled alone, picking up the telltale signs of other hunters, learning and adapting to everything they could throw at him – gaining his blessing at the young age of sixteen. Bruises and broken bones were no longer something to be proud of, no longer a stagnant reminder that he was just a boy – they were a warning, a screaming premonition of how utterly fragile he still was. How every wrong move could end his life. Any hunter worth the bullets they carry would claim you never stopped learning, that the supernatural world was constantly filled with curve balls, nothing you’d ever expect; forcing you to learn on your feet; but less than five years on his own gave Zeke every tiny facet of knowledge he would need, but knowledge didn’t keep him alive, knowledge didn’t ensure the safety of others; in the end, you could only win a war if you were willing to rage against the enemy.

Enlisting was yet another thing that came with little to no hesitation for him, and over the years he climbed his way through the ranks with a determination unlike any other. What difference did fighting one war have against another? So the molecular make up of those he fought against while on tour might not have been quite as complicated as those he riddled with silver or wooden bullets back home, war was war. One way or another he walked away with a body marred with scars and a driven thirst for more. Anyone who ever claimed justice or revenge sated any kind of desperation had so very clearly never been entirely consumed by the idea of it. Nothing brought him any closer to feeling that weight lift from his shoulders, and from the moment he ended his final tour, Zeke threw himself head first into the war he’d left behind, molded and shaped into something entirely different. No longer a weapon created by witches, but a soldier, built and bred for combat; now as in tune with every sense he still had as his father, as cunning as his mother, and more deadly with his hands than his parents ever could have dreamed to be together.

Buried within every skill, every ability he’d been blessed with and conditioned himself to learn, no matter how effective, never quite brought him any closer to closure; regardless of the fact that he’d never openly sought it. He didn’t want to find the creature that did it – he didn’t want to slay the monsters that had torn his life apart, quite literally. He just wanted blood – all of it. The blood of every supernatural he ever lived to lay eyes on. Without remorse, he tore through the country, state by state. blood staining his skin so brightly that the crimson never seemed to fade from the pigment of his own flesh. But blood never came without a price, and no hunter would ever survive without knowing as much. Karma, bad luck, call it what you will — but finding people in a life so full of chaos and destruction will always be a difficult concept to understand. To have it, to hold it – to know that someone is waiting for you, for just a glimpse of blood spattered features is a concept that is generally beyond any hunters thoughts. Too much baggage, too many problems, too many secrets – was it ever really worth finding someone you wanted to keep alive? To Zeke, he didn’t want to protect any one person, only himself and anyone he could without direct contact. Isolation was how he preferred everything. Until he met her. A woman so enthralling that he hated how easy it was to look past his own rules. He spent months with her, months falling and months clawing for anything to stop himself from diving into depths he’d never be prepared for. And he never would be — discovering the woman’s lineage had been enough to send his heart into cardiac arrest. Werewolf. A hatred that had long lived in his veins boiled to the surface and Zeke, after multiple attempt, finally managed a bullet between her eyes. Cold and blue; lacking the light and warmth that he would never forget.

Tragedy didn’t excuse anything; he didn’t mourn, he didn’t grieve. He left town like it was nothing at all – like she’d been nothing more than another job. Stoic features never left the road ahead of him and for months he continued on his way until he found himself back in the town where everything had began; both literally for the world he lived in, and for himself. Everything had began in the streets of Salem’s point, everything he knew and everything he wanted had changed on the black bitumen of winding roads, his mind still determined to make him remember. The pools of red that slipped between the rocks coated in tar, and as if he were punishing the memories themselves, he simply added to it. Supernatural after Supernatural. Packs; coven members, anyone he could lay his hands on; too few survived to admire his relentlessness until he found one other. Kindred spirits, bloodied palms to match his and an unwavering ability to ignore the conscience, to ignore guilt and compassion. Tripp Blais became one of the only hunters he ever worked with. His moral alignment didn’t clash with his; he never had to answer questions, never had to defend his actions. It was cut and dry; hunt or be hunted.

Coming back to Salem’s Point has only been a reminder; a burning brand inside his skull that he’d always been on the right side. His moral compass might have been well beyond broken, and he might never quite find his way back through all the blood and gore that festered beneath his fingernails, but he knew for sure that protection for those that couldn’t protect themselves would never come from creating laws and governing halls; it would come from the blade at his hip and the gun at his back, the twisted knuckles and sharpened mind that had become his greatest weapon since the moment his parents hearts froze in their chest.

I pledge, to give my mortal life to the cause, to protect the innocent, to bring about justice, to rid the world of the supernatural stain. To live in the shadows of our world and theirs. So that those who may never know of the horrors unleashed, never have to.

[starspangledspanks]

Blindsided By Fate

Hey y'all! So once again I've decided to scrap my previous story and start all over. This will be a multi chapter fic so please bear with my busy schedule as i try to write as much as I can in a timely manner. Please leave reviews and tell me how you like it and if you think I should be going in a different direction!

As always the ONLY CHARACTER THAT IS MINE IS CLEARLY OBVIOUS AND I DO NOT HAVE ANY AFFILIATION WITH MARVEL OR ANY OF THEIR CREATIVE GENIUS! All of their characters are theirs and I do not claim any as my own. Marvel you are dank af and I love you ok? Ok, ENJOY!

If you asked Palmer Knight if she was nervous on her first day that would be the understatement of the literal century. Ever since the battle of New York the Avengers had been front page news and slapped on every billboard in the city. Posters hung on buildings walls of the heroes in all their glory. You couldn't walk down a single road without seeing something related to the muscle bound heroes.

Kids ran around neighborhoods dressed as Thor, carrying around hammers they had stolen from their dads tool shed. Little boys drew circles on their chests to simulate Tony Stark, and little girls cut their hair short in hopes of looking anything like Natasha Romanoff. the world was a changing place. Heroes were either idolized or they were they were sentenced by the government to be pets to their own games. Sent to do the dirty work of those who wanted nothing more than to play with the stability of other countries.

This was Palmer's main objective. To infiltrate the Avengers and gain their trust. She was sure they would see right through her; see right through the games she was playing. But The Red Room does not care if their agents are caught. Does not care if they are killed doing what they are told.

"What should one wear the first day of spying" She muttered to herself, staring into the closet at her less than pleasant hotel room. You'd think with the funding her superiors were getting the could at least afford better than a dingy two star the less she was motivated to complete her objective. She pulled on a rather form fitting blank tank dress and leopard pumps. Her tan was glowing, and her bright blue eyes shined through an impeccably applied smokey eye. Yes, she knew she was rather dressed up. But this was Manhattan, and this was the first time she would be meeting Tony Stark. Shmoozing him would be a breeze.

Finding her Uber she hopped in and was whisked away into the hustle and bustle of New York; Stark towering appearing magnificently before her like a beacon to the people of the city. More of a dark hole to her though.

Climbing out and thanking her driver she made her way into the lobby and to the front desk where an attractive young receptionist stood typing away.

"How may I help you today?" he asked with a dazzling smile.

"I am here to meet with Mr. Stark. He should be expecting me. My name is Palmer Casey." Like she would give them her whole real name. Even telling them her first name was Palmer was a risk, but she loved her name too much to be called anything else.

"Ah yes here you are. Mr. Stark is currently in his work shop, if you'd like to wait I can have him meet you in his office when he's through?""No that's ok. Just point me in that direction please." She replied.

"Please take elevator one. It's his personal one. Go to level 19 and you should fine him there."

"Thank you!" She made her way to the correct elevator and tapped the shiny button. The ride was short and she was there in seconds.

The lift opened and Palmer was hit with the smell of oil and an overwhelming wave of testosterone. Heavy metal music blasted from the ceilings and tools were spread about. It reminded her of her fathers old car shop in Colorado. The light cover of grease that manages to get on everything that's transferred from fingertip to surface, the organized yet chaotic mess of wires and metal. It was all just a fond memory to her nowadays.

As she studied the shop her eyes laid rest on a man hunched over the engine of a 1953 Jaguar. You knew the car well as it was your dads very favorite.

"Need some help?" You sounded startled the man under the hood. He jumped at your voice and turned to you with a less than pleased look.

"The only thing your gonna help me with is sending me to an early heart attack."

"I didn't mean to startle you Mr. Stark. I'm Palmer Casey we had a meeting today."

"Oh yes." He said making his way over. The glimmer of his arc reactor peaking through the thin grey tank top. Stark was handsome, you couldn't deny that. Small, yet, handsome.

"Somehow I pictured your typical super hero nerd coming to fawn over "The Avengers"." He air quoted. "Usually most people who apply for this job can't actually provide me with any useful service."

"I can assure you I'm quite qualified Mr. Stark. I have a 4.2 GPA from Harvard, I speak 9 different languages, I have a masters degree in Thermonuclear fusion, and I have a pilots license."

"The last one seemed a little bit forced after thermonuclear fusion." Tony chuckled. "So why do you want to be my assistant? Seems like you're just a bit over qualified?"

"Honestly? This is a good way to get my foot in the door. You know people and I can learn things from you I couldn't learn at the University from those fuddy dutty professors." she said.

"That is true. You don't seem like the star struck kids I usually get in here... Alright, I'll give you a shot. This is a big job. You'll be working for the entire team not just me. I'm throwing a party two nights from now, that'll be your first test. You come as my guest and I'll introduce you to everyone. If you seem like a good match you can stay." he said.

"And what's the dress code for this event?"

"I like you kid. You ask the right questions. Think classy club mixer. Not too fancy, but I'll kick you out if you wear jeans" he laughed.

"Specific. But, do-able. I will see you in two days Mr. Stark" she shook his hand and made her way back to the elevator.

She had two days to prepare for what you could say was the most important party of her life. Meeting The Avengers one by one would have been tough enough, let alone all at once. She would have the eyes and ears of the worlds elite spies and supers all on her and this was not the time to screw up.

She thought little about her past life. The young, weak girl who grew up constantly bullied and tormented for the way she was. She was gone, and this new confident facade would help her pull off admittedly the biggest infiltration her organization or SHIELD has ever seen.

She entered her dingy hotel room ready to look over her case files for the millionth time. Laying on the dusty sheets, which she assumed hadn't been used in weeks, she opened the folders that contained every piece of information they could gather about the heroes. She had shortened the information to easy to remember tid bits.

Bruce Banner: genius, softy, shy, turns into a giant green muscle monster. Easy.

Thor: god, handsome as hell, controls lightening, funny.

Tony Stark: well, genius, playboy, billionaire, philanthropist.

Natasha Romanoff: traitor, can not be trusted, biggest threat to the mission and the organization.

Bucky Barnes: winter soldier, literally has a metal arm, total bad ass.

Sam Wilson: fly's around, super cool suit, do not under estimate him.

Steve Rogers: Americas golden boy, leader, old.

She was confident she could make this work. She was trained years for this, and in two days, she would be put to the test.