#the entirety of this mission was oh yeah he can curse AND run

[myavatarismoretrashthanyours]

Mq from a few days ago. Love the new techno rave bgm xD ✨

[iloveitwhen]

jasonette but like siblings but like angst- like that whole trope where they are blood related and got separated, or they didnt get separated idk thats cool too i just want some sibling jasonette😅

Wow. ok. uhmmmm. this is a lot i think?? I got a little jk a lot carried away and this past week was super busy so i’ll finish the second part later??

Again... a lot...

Jason is walking home after another night at the bar when he sees a small woman, teenager? Slip into a dark alleyway and two men follow in after her a few moments later. 

Jason curses and bolts across the street, what was this girl thinking? How stupid do you have to be to go into a dark alley where no one will hear you or care to help?

He jumps into the alley to find one man already slumped on himself on the floor and the other getting kicked in the teeth by army boots then falling limply. 

Jason curses again, impressed this time. He scans over the men noting that they probably had pretty good concussions judging from the dent in the garbage can the first man was laying next to and the way the second guy’s head smacked onto the concrete when he fell. He lands his eyes back on the woman, no, definitely a teenager, with a smile on his face that instantly falters. The girl is in a fighting stance and waiting for him to attack so he quickly raises his hands to placate her.

“I’m not here to fight you, I saw you get followed and I was coming to help.” 

“Nobody helps in Gotham,” she states, a dangerous edge to her voice that held a carefully hidden accent. 

“Not from around here, are you?” 

The girl narrows her eyes, “I was born and raised here, take a step further and you won’t be waking up tomorrow.” 

Jason pockets his hands and smirks. He likes her, she’s a fighter, she reminds him of himself when he was younger. 

“Ok. Just make sure you make it home safe. A girl’s going to get some unwanted attention at a time and place like this.” He turns around and crosses the street but as soon as he’s out of her sight he turns back and hides in the shadows to track her and make sure no one else tries to catch her alone. Just because she could handle herself the first time doesn’t mean she’s necessarily safe from the next attempt. 

The girl exits the alley and starts toward the direction of Jason’s apartment calmly as if she didn’t just get attacked. At least that means less walking for him. After a few minutes she slips into another dark alley, of course she does, and Jason crosses the street again going into his own empty alley before pulling his helmet on and scaling the building. As he peers over the side of the building his helmet scans the area giving him feedback he would normally miss due to the horrible lighting and telling him that the alley was empty. He figured she had somehow gotten into one of the buildings and decided to go home by rooftops since he was already up there. 

However, as he landed on the opposite rooftop his feet slipped from underneath him. Jason managed to roll out of it but before he could get his footing his hip was kicked into and he stumbled, tripped over a seemingly perfectly placed rock and smashed his head on the side of the stair house. Then, just as quickly as this all transpired, there was a body behind him, they hooked their fingers under his helmet and lifted it to expose his neck and press a knife with jagged points onto his neck. How did he know the knife had jagged points? Good question, it was, as previously mentioned, against his neck and piercing into his skin, drawing blood. 

“Why are you following me?” a girl’s voice filters through his mask and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. His mask let him know through the constant visuals that the voice belonged to a female in their late teens, not that he didn’t already know that. 

“Making sure you got home safe,” he says carefully, weighing his options and trying to decide if he should let her feel like she got him or escape with a slight nick on his neck. 

Eh. Jason preferred to not have a bleeding neck no matter how small the cut. 

“Lies,” she hisses, digging the knife a bit deeper as a warning, maybe getting out sooner was a better idea. “What do you want?” 

“Knife off my throat first,” he manages without pushing his neck further onto the blade. 

A second later the girl releases him and jumps back with enough space between them to react if he ended up deciding to attack her. 

Jason gives her a quick glance as he stands up, a hand to his throat to check for blood. 

“I wasn’t lying-”

“You’re not fooling anyone you Red Hood wannabe,” she snaps. Jason just laughs in surprise, no one has ever accused him of being a Red Hood wannabe. He's the one who made the mantle into something to respect, something to fear. He stops laughing and levels a glare at the girl, his helmet telling him unhelpfully there was no match of facial recognition in any database. 

“I am Red Hood-” he started to growl out but she cut him off again. The audacity. 

“Red Hood wouldn’t have been caught by the person he was trailing, Red Hood wouldn’t have been caught off guard, Red Hood doesn’t have a stupid streak of white hair on his head. He may have been a theatre nerd but he wouldn’t do that.” 

Wait what. 

“What are you talking about?” But it was more of a demand than a question. 

“You’re not…” she trailed off waving her hand in the air trying to find a word, “slick. Same jacket, same shoes, same build, yeah. You’re not fooling anyone.” 

“Ok. Whatever, I’m going home.” He turns and starts jogging across the rooftop towards home. So much for helping out. 

“Where is he?” she calls out after him.

“Right here, princess,” he spat before jumping to the other rooftop. 

But as soon as his feet leave the building a big dark blue warbly hole appears and swallows him before he can react. Unfortunately for him the other side of that weird black hole was a face full of concrete. 

“Prove you’re him.” 

Oh this girl was something else. Jason shakes his disorientation away, he didn’t know how she did that, nor did he care but he was pissed. He swings his foot around and connects with her ankle, she falls as expected but easily bounces right back up and hops out of his range. 

“Do that again and I’ll have to break my no killing kids rule,” he growls out, staring her down for a moment. Her face was finally lit by the dim yellow street lamps and he could see the entirety of her face and all the raw emotions she was trying to hide. For a split second familiarity passed through him, like when you see someone at the library then at the store a few weeks later or you see an old school friend ten years later and can’t quite place them. Jason dismisses the feeling and turns to go. 

“Wait.” She says it so vulnerably that Jason gives her a chance, when he turns she pulls up her sleeve and shows off her forearm. 

In the center of her arm is a faded black tattoo that was a writing symbol, but because of its name and one of its uses it was used to brand child soldiers in Gotham from a particular gang that Red Hood obliterated as soon as his first order of business in Gotham. 

‡

It was the double dagger, or better known in Gotham as the death dagger. The children were expendable although highly trained and dangerous, they could give Damian a run for his money in the child assassin department. The tattoo was a reminder to the children and to the people they came across that they were soulless, emotionless, their lives and actions were not their own and they would give their lives willingly for the mission

Meaning who they were before was dead. No family, no connections, no one would notice if they went missing and no one would be able to identify their bodies if and when the time came. Sometimes poor families would sell one of their children and promise to forget them and to never contact them. 

Jason was led to assume that this was another child soldier looking to thank him, or kill him. It was 50/50 these days, some of those kids just never recovered. 

“So what is it that you want? You want my autograph across your head?” Jason asks dryly. 

The girl just huffs and pulls her sleeve back down. 

“I want to know if my brother is underneath that mask.”

I want to know if my brother is underneath that mask.

The words struck Jason deep in his chest but it only fueled his anger. He didn’t know why that hit so deep but he was not in the mood for this nor would he be at any time. 

“Just because I ended that gang doesn’t mean we’re family. Go find your other assassin siblings to play house with.” 

“Annette,” she calls after as he turns his back again. A strike of familiarity pulses through him and when he hesitates she continues, “that was my name before I was initiated. I was one of the first. Daddy’s little girl,” she was still talking louder than necessary since he hadn’t turned back around. “I’m the only one left from The 13.” 

Right. The 13. That’s what everyone called the first batch even as they were killed off, they were the most ruthless being the oldest and were also the most aggressive in proving their worth. It was common to find a number from 1-13 placed strategically behind at the crime scene, whoever had the most successful missions would be highly rewarded, or so he was told. 

“Do you remember?” 

“I remember destroying that gang and their stupid leader and having to kill some of your little friends and I also remember The 13 died within the first year and a half and were easily replaced by their younger friends.” 

“Do you remember me?”

“Look, kid,” he finally turns to look at her, “I don’t care, ok? Yay whoopdeedoo I saved you, get in line. It’s what I do, kill bad people and let the rest walk away. You’re not special.” 

“Annette Marie Todd,” she says hurriedly, like it’s a last resort. “Jason Peter Todd,” she continues, “just you. Me. And a blitzed out Mom.” 

Jason did not like this, he knew the Dagger Children were ruthless and expert manipulators but this was pushing it. He spun around to face her, ripping off his helmet, she already knew what he looked like and it was in the way of his death glare. 

“You don’t know who you are messing with. If you really were a Dagger you’d know that I am not one to be fucked with.” He slides his helmet back on and without a backward glance he runs off to the next roof and continues home. Thankfully not another portal thing opens up in front of him. 

———————————

Jason didn’t have a sister. He did not have a sister. He would remember having a sister. He would remember having a Dagger for a sister. But Annette was such a familiar name. And she had said her name was Annette Marie Todd. Todd. 

No that’s stupid. Impossible. She was just messing with him, for all he knew she could have been subtly showing her face in random places for him to react to the familiarity of her face and she could have said the name sometime in the last few months for him to vaguely recognize the sound of her name but not place it. 

But the Lazarus pit did alter his memories from childhood, it was like looking through a fog of red anger, or maybe it was always like that even before the pit, and it also completely wiped out other parts of his memory. But a sister? No. No way. 

Hours of this, circling around the possibilities and shifting around on his bed trying to get comfortable until he finally drifted off in a very restless sleep. 

Jason found himself in a familiar apartment, the one he lived in before his “mother” died. He looked around and it was more of the feeling of familiarity that convinced him where he was than anything else. He steps aside for a younger version of himself to run by him and turns to the window that led out to the fire escape and watches him climb out of it and close the window. Jason turns back around to see what Young Jason was hiding from. A man hands a thick envelope to his mother, Catherine Todd who had wrapped herself in a thin silk robe, her bony frame visible as well as her happy focus on the money inside that envelope. Jason couldn’t make out the man’s face but he turned around and grabbed the small hand of a little girl in pigtails. She turned her head and faced the window sending a smile but he couldn’t quite make out her face so he instead turned to himself sitting outside.

As he turned his surroundings changed but in his dreamstate he paid no mind to it. This time he was standing in an aisle of a store as a child. He looked around and found his mother dressed embarrassingly in a thin tank top and ragged jeans and flip flops. He feels a squeeze of his hand and looks down, his little sister is looking up at him and pointing to a rack of stuffed animals of Clifford the Big Red Dog that were suddenly there. He sends her a smile and looks up, intent on catching up with his mother and asking her to buy one but as he chases her his intent slips from his mind and instead he wants to taste the cupcakes he just saw. He opens a case and takes a bite but yelling makes him turn around and there is Batman towering over him. Instead of a tasty cupcake he is holding something thick and metal, a crowbar. He throws it at the man and turns to run away and jumps out of the parking garage and jumps into the air flying up. But he’s too slow, he tries kicking and swimming in the air to propel himself further away from Batman but a hand wraps around his foot. 

Jason jerks awake, breathing heavy and feeling uncomfortably hot. This was much more mild than his usual nightmares, if it could even be called a nightmare, but it was bad in a different way. It wasn’t unusual for Jason to be getting chased in his dreams by one thing or another and it always ended before whatever or whoever was chasing him got him but it was getting a little old honestly. 

His head was pounding so he slipped out of bed and poured himself a glass of water from the kitchen. As he takes a sip he recalls his dream and how he had looked down at his sister. But that couldn’t be right. 

A searing pain in his head forces him to tighten his grip on his cup before it goes away again. Stupid head. Stupid dream. Stupid girl trying to get in his head. 

As he lays back down a memory of clear grey eyes flashes across his mind’s eye. 

---

Throughout the next few days Jason tries to ignore the headaches and his dreams of the young black haired girl with grey eyes and of getting chased which was more frequent and more urgent than he remembered them being. It was just all a big waste of time. At least the Dagger girl wasn’t trying to find him anymore, he didn’t know how he would react if she showed up again. 

After another dream of getting chased, this time he was just so tired of it he got a few good punches in on the Bane/Joker demon that was chasing him when his phone buzzes, startling him awake. He ignores it in favor of a cup of coffee and checks the time on the oven that he never uses, it’s almost two o’clock. 

His phone buzzes again several more times in quick succession. He finally heads over and clicks his phone on to see five messages from Stephanie. 

Replacement’s replacement🤰

so u have a little sister and u never told me???

anyways shes at the big house and getting interrogated by bruce and i think hes ready to adopt her

hello

so rude

i mean it looks to me shes tellin the truth but like seems sus for obvious reasons and ur the only one that'll actually know so… hurry up??

Jason curses and rushes to grab his things before running outside and zooming to the Wayne Manor on his motorcycle. 

welp i’ll add with another part soon that i havent finished yet but anywho let me know if jason is too ooc or something😁😁

[remmushound]

Beyond the Bay Chapter 13: Home Alone?

Summary: Mikey is home (almost) alone and trying to get up to no good, but there is someone stopping him from leaving

Tags: @brightlotusmoon @selfindulgenz @digitl-art-monstr @ilo-artistry

Content warning: featuring dementia, swears, mentions of demons

Mikey hated everything in that moment. He hated that he was alone in a quiet lair while his brothers got to go off on an adventure. He hated how his muscles ached and how his mind was still fuzzy like lint had clogged it up. He hate how small the buttons were on this damned remote and how he kept pressing the wrong ones—

Mrrp, said Klunk with a tilt of his head; the head tilt made him lose his balance and tumble over onto his back. Now that was something Mikey could never be mad about. He leaned down and scooped the kitten up in his hand.

“Oh Klunk.” Mikey put Klunk on his chest and left his hand hovering, ready to catch the kitten should he fall. “This is so boring. Isn’t this boring?”

Mahhh, said Klunk.

“Well what would you know? You’re a cat.”

Prrrb, said Klunk.

“Yeah…” Mikey relented, sinking deeper into the couch, “You’re right.

Meep, said Klunk. He rubbed his head against Mikey’s hand for a fraction of a moment before jumping over it. He landed hard on the ground, but recovered enough to wobble off. Mikey watched Klunk go until he could see the kitten no more.

“Et tu, Brute?” Mikey sighed. This day just kept getting worse! 

His eyes began to wander away from the TV. This environment was still strange and foreign to him, the walls feeling so tight that he thought he might pop if they squeezed any harder. It had only been a day but he was already feeling homesick. His lair had wide open rooms and high ceilings where he could skate and run around and play with his ball. If he tried any of that here, he’d break everything in this place and probably himself too. He didn't see himself skating any time soon anyway.

How long ago had his brothers left? It felt like hours, but when he checked the clock it hadn’t even been one! They were taking forever and Mikey wasn’t sure how much of the silence he could take. He could move his body now with little pain, and even if he was a bit stiff he was still leagues ahead of an average human. If someone as big and obvious as Raphael could thrive in this city without being spotted, then so could Mikey! In the heat of his thoughts, his mind was immediately made up. Even if his brothers and friends came back before he had returned, he would have still gotten to see the beauty of the city! He was willing to take any punishment, even the hashi, for the promise of adventure! Splinter was busy meditating and Yoshi was in his room, so if Mikey wanted to escape it had to be now!

Mikey pushed himself to his feet, forcing his muscles to obey him. If he could spent twelve hours in the hashi with aching muscles and straining will, he could do this too. He wanted to! The ladder that he had seen the other turtles climb with all the effort it took to breathe seemed to stretch out before Mikey in an eternity, the end lost in shadows. His vision spiraled with vertigo and he almost fell before he forced himself to look down and breathe. He could do this. He could do this! A ladder had nothing on him!

He grabbed one of the bars.

“Hello?”

Mikey’s blood went cold at the voice. A low voice of slow hesitance, speaking in a Japanese tongue instead of an english one. 

“Hello?” The voice called again.

Mikey turned his head slowly toward the call. It was coming from the hallway on the opposite side of the living room, and in that hallway was Yoshi. The gray rat relied heavily on the wall, his tail dragging without any conscious effort to hold it up off the ground. Mikey froze. His body tensed as it expected to be grabbed around the ankle and tossed by an agitated father, but nothing like that happened. In fact, even though Yoshi was looking at him, it didn't seem Yoshi actually saw him.

He could still go. He could still leave without getting caught but for some reason he didn't. Yoshi didn't move from his spot and neither did Mikey. The box turtle jumped when the sudden hum of the heater rumbled to life. It dislodged a piece of lint from somewhere under the couch and the lint was carried on the breeze until it ended up at Yoshi’s feet. Yoshi’s lack of expression didn't change as he turned down to look at whatever it was that was tickling him.

The rat’s next breath gave out shaky, more like a whimper than anything else. His feet shuffled backward, trying to escape the lint as it clung to him stubbornly and followed. Scuffling across the ground with such urgency, he stumbled over himself. First his feet, and then tripping over his own tail. Mikey was there to catch the rat before he had even begun to fall.

“Careful Yoshi!”

Yoshi gave another frustrated whine and kept trying to evade the lint as it blew past him. Mikey didn't know what to do, so he just stood there and watched, keeping Yoshi away from what agitated him. Now that Mikey was so close to Yoshi, he started to notice more changes in the rat he once knew well. Yoshi’s fur felt oily and stuck up in spiked instead of lying flat, like he was in a permanent state of anxiety. His hair had the same greasy look of his fur and, now Mikey was essentially holding the rat, he could feel Yoshi had several layers on despite the lair’s heat.

“Hey sensei, why you got so much on?” Mikey asked, his immediate instinct to start to strip some of the jackets and scarves off.

Yoshi shoved against Mikey and, for fear of hurting the small rat if he held on, it was all Mikey could do to let Yoshi escape. The gaunt rat scrambled for his freedom the moment he was able to.

“Aren't you hot?” Mikey called.

“I have to get to set.” Yoshi said, hurriedly fixing buttons into the wrong holes. When he began to climb the ladder, Mikey was quick to get in his way.

“No can do Yosh, you don’t work anymore.” Mikey said in Japanese tongue.

Yoshi took a few steps back, straining his neck to look up and up at the massive box turtle. For the first time since he entered the room, Yoshi’s expression distorted from the stiff disinterest, his eyebrows knitting together and mouth dropped open. He blinked, and his eyes were darting around the room following invisible threats.

“Who are you?” Said Yoshi, and his words wavered between English and Japanese as he yelled them at Mikey. “Where are my sons?”

“Hey, it’s okay dude— Er, sensei dude. They just went out on a mission.” Mikey did his best to reassure.

“When will they be back?”

“I don’t know.” Mikey said, and he only watched as Yoshi wandered past him.

“Y-you need to go before my sons get back. This is my house!”

“I know, I’m just visiting!” Mikey said, breaking from his still curse enough to pursue Yoshi as the rat left at a quick lumbering pace. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?” 

Yoshi didn't respond. Mikey recognized the path Yoshi was taking toward the kitchen.

“Are you hungry? Do you want food?”

Yoshi stopped, shaking his head slightly as an open-mouthed smile came to him. “Yes.”

Mikey, now having some sort of game plan in mind, continued to follow Yoshi until they reached the kitchen. He first set up chamomile to boil before reheating lunch from previous night. Mikey turned to help Yoshi into his chair but the rat was already there, scratching absently at his fur. Looking closer still and Mikey could see patches of fur missing, skin rubbed so raw from scratching that he was bleeding. His clung loosely sound his bone with very little fat or muscle to define his figure. Ten minutes later, Mikey was sitting at the table with Yoshi watching the old rat while he ate; well, it was more like ***poked*** than ate. Yoshi was using his chopsticks to clink against the plate, moving the gyoza around like a sliding toy.

“Aren’t you hungry Yoshi?” Mikey asked, pointing at the plate.

Prompted by the words, Yoshi made an attempt to pick up a gyoza, and just as quickly dropped the gyoza and one of his chopsticks. He picked up the chopstick and tried again, and again. Each time, he’d either drop the chopstick or the food or both. Once the gyoja even fell from his mouth and splatted onto his lap; Mikey was quick to clean it up, but there was still a sauce stain remaining of the third layer of robes that had been forced on.

Yoshi seemed to finally realize he had tea, though it had long since gone cold. He reached over and grabbed the mug in both paws, but that didn't stop it from slipping out of his hands and spilling its entirety over his lap. The rat hissed, reaching to try and swipe it off by himself until Mikey sped over with a towel and worked urgently to pat him dry. Yoshi tried to help, but Mikey was quick to shut him down.

“Okay, lunch over.” Mikey said even though Yoshi hadn’t eaten even a single bite. He placed his hand in the small of Yoshi’s back like he had seen Raphael do the previous day, working to guide Yoshi back toward his room. Yoshi complied for a short time, then started to hesitate and drag his feet.

“Who are you?” Asked Yoshi, expression tight, “Where are my sons?”

“...let’s get you back to bed, Yoshi.”

Mikey placed Yoshi back in his room and turned off the light, hoping that would be enough to encourage the old man to go back to sleep. He gave a farewell bow to Yoshi and closed the door. It hadn’t been that long, he reasoned. Maybe he could still get some exploring done before his brothers got back! He went back into the living room, back to the ladder that more resembled a marathon to him. Fixing Yoshi the wasted food had only served to make his soreness worse, but he could do this. He could—

“Hello?”

Mikey turned around, and Yoshi was standing there in the hallway, leaning into the wall just as he had before. Mikey gave a long sigh. His dad certainly wasn’t doing a good job taking care of Yoshi like he had promised to do.

“Yoshi, you’re supposed to be sleeping.”

“I can’t.” Said Yoshi, “There’s a man in my room.”

In the half minute it took Mikey to get from the living room to Yoshi’s bedroom, he blacked out. His mind registered nothing except needing to get to that room, and only once he was there did his mind start to kick into overdrive. Nunchaku in hand, he took a stand in the doorway using the wall as a shield, his peripheral senses reaching out into the room searching for movement or danger. He didn't move, nor breathe, and neither did anything in Yoshi’s room. Just the steady gurgle of his fish tank’s filter as it worked, the new occupant (a beautiful shubunkin goldfish named Cleo) bobbing happily in her water. Mikey didn't let his guard down, even as he entered the room with his weapon swinging in his left hand; he could still hardly close his right hand.

He worked to clear the room, looking under every surface that could possibly be hiding anything living. The longer he searched, the more confused he became when he found nothing out of place in the entirety of the room. He turned on the light and took another glance, finding only the normal stuff. Bed, closet, clothes piled up ready to be sorted. The fish was still swimming happily around in her tank, and Yoshi’s bed was still made up as if he hadn’t even been laying on it. One of the piles of clothes were disturbed, but it had been like that when he had brought Yoshi in the first time; Mikey figured that was the pile Yoshi had dressed himself with.

Yoshi was in the doorway now. For someone slowed by age, it seemed he still had the habit of sneaking up on people.

“Yoshi, where was the man?” Mikey asked.

“There.” Yoshi said, pointing to the pile of tossed clothes, “He’s there!”

Mikey frowned. “Yoshi, that’s just clothes.”

“No! No, he’s right there!” Yoshi’s voice grew high-pitched in his agitation, “He has no hair and his eyes are green!”

Mikey stared at the clothes, trying to see what Yoshi was seeing. An impulse struck him and he turned off the lights, and like a blanket of evil, shadows swallowed the room and turned the pile into a demon. A dark shape looming in the corner, its presence seeming to reach out and trace a chilling claw across the ambiance of the room. Mikey turned the light back on, and the demon turned back into clothes.

“Ah. I see him now.” Mikey said, a smile coming naturally to his face as he played up his expressions and gestures for the sake of Yoshi, “What are you doing in here? You’re not supposed to be in here!”

Mikey strutted confidently over to the pile of clothes and gathered them up in his arms, yanking them away and making sure Yoshi could see him.

“You get out of here and let Mister Yoshi sleep!” Mikey dropped the clothes on The other side of the door, dusting his hands clean, “There. Don’t you move, mister, I’m not done with you!”

Mikey closed the door and guided Yoshi carefully over to his bed, this time making sure Yoshi got into it and was covered.

“Don’t worry, Yoshi, I’ll make sure he doesn’t bother you again.”

“Thank you…” Yoshi breathed his relief.

Mikey left Yoshi in the bed and shut off the lights before closing the door and melting into giggles. He gathered the clothes up in his arms and carried them with him, not quite sure what he was going to do with them but he was sure he’d figure it out. He got as far as the stairs before stopping dead.

The sound of footsteps fading away met his ears, and the shadow of a fleeing humanoid was disappearing down the lit tunnel that led to Donatello’s room. It was only a momentary glance, but it was enough for Mikey to be certain in what he had seen. The clothes fell from his arms and littered the stairs like fallen snow.

Mikey screamed.

[marvelobsessedteenager]

Playing Cupid

Pairing: Tom Holland x fem!reader

Warnings: Fluff?? Hopefully lmfao, a sprinkle of angst, My Best Friend’s Wedding Spoilers? (edit: cuRSING LMFAO COMPLETELY FORGOT THE MOST IMPORTANT ONE)

Summary: You’ve been playing Cupid your entire life, setting people up left and right, and have never put much thought into who would be your eternal soulmate. That is until you met Tom Holland. But you don’t know if he feels the same way you do, and you only find out when someone else decides to be your matchmaker.

A/N: Heyo! First fanfiction piece and mAN am I nervous, haha. Enjoy? Also, the scene that I’m talking about below is linked for those of you that haven’t seen the movie :)

-------

“I don’t know what to say, y/n/n. I’m going to look like a div and-“

Not wanting to hear Harrison’s complaining, you quickly pinch his lips in between your fingers and shush him, “First of all, you already look like a div and that’s pretty much never going to change.”

Haz rolls his eyes and grunts as you continue, “Second of all, it’s just a conversation, Haz. Amelia’s pretty chill and is probably the easiest person to talk to. You’ll easily fall into conversation with her. You guys like the same things, why do you think I chose her out of all the girls?”

Ah, yes. That was your job after all. Well, not a job job, though you wish you’d get paid for setting people up with each other. You’d be a billionaire before you reach the age of 25.

But it was your job as a friend to be like a bachelorette for others and help them reach the love they crave. It was quite simple, really. Harrison claimed it had been a gift you were born with - a power sent by the gods above. It seemed like everyone you’d pair up ended up thriving as a couple.

Perhaps it really was a gift, and you were destined to you use it for good.

Right now, you, Haz, Tom, and Harry were inside a cafe giving Harrison the pep talk before his blind date. Amelia was practically your best friend - besides the three dumbasses you were currently with - and was constantly grumbling about not being able to find a guy she genuinely likes. When asked about her interests, you noticed they were strikingly similar to Harrison’s, who was, coincidentally, also single. Ergo, you set them up, knowing they’d be the perfect couple.

“Now,” you run your hand through his untamed hair that he’d spent hours stress-tugging, “Go out there and talk to her. You’ll do great, Hazzy.”

He stares at you intently, blue eyes boring directly into yours, clouded with immense fear. You could tell he was on the verge of backing out, so you take this as your chance to lighten up the situation.

You sigh as you fix his collar while maintaining eye contact, “I’d totally be in love with your dazzling ocean eyes but you’re not my type so stop staring at me, and go stare at her.” You tease and look up at him through your eyelashes, tilting your head towards where Amelia was sitting, waiting for Harrison to ‘arrive’.

He chuckles, “Right. How could I forget?” He gives you a sly smirk, and leans down to whisper in your ear, “Your type is everything Tom is.”

He pulls back fast enough to catch your fleeting eyes and the slight blush that crept up on your cheeks at the mention of your crush.

Well, less of a crush and you’d admit, you’re maybe, slightly, completely and utterly in love with Tom.

Harrison, the one who’d introduced you guys - stating ‘fate has brought you two together’ - effortlessly guessed that you were head over heels for Tom. He even began calling you ‘Cherry’ whenever he saw you go red at the mention of his best friend.

Your friendship began when you went to your local pub for a light drink with one of your closest co-workers. She’d spotted a cute guy whose eyes never left hers, even from across the room. A pub quiz was starting in a few minutes, and you’d told her that that was her chance to go and see if the chemistry was as real as it looked.

Of course, being the good friend she was, she immediately tossed that idea out the window.

“I can’t leave you here alone,” she’d said. Fortunately, it didn’t take long for you to convince her to go. With the quiz starting in a couple seconds, you searched around for a lonesome guy and spotted Harrison.

You downed the rest of your scotch and strutted over to confidently sit beside him.

Before he even got the chance to speak, you opened your mouth and blurted out everything in a word vomit: “Hey, I’m y/n and my friend’s watching because I told her that I’d talk to you and start up a “romance” since that was the only way I could really push her to leave me to talk to the guy that she’s had her eyes on so please just shake my hand and we’ll sit here and talk or do the quiz or whatever the fuck you want, just go along with it?”

You ended it with a lopsided smile, your hanging hand awaiting his own.

Luckily, he’d laughed it off and clasped your open palm. You and him got on like a house on fire, and instantly became close. Later on, he introduced you to Tom.

You never believed in love at first sight, but, fuck, Tom sure was a sight.

“Oi, hurry up, it’s hot as shit in these disguises,” Harry whines as he tugs the collar of his hoodie, interrupting your train of thought.

You shake your head, “Anyway,” you clear your throat, “Remember, it’s just a girl.”

He closes his eyes, chest rising as he takes a deep breath and nods, “It’s just a girl.”

“Attaboy,” you turn him around and push his shoulders, “Go get her, tiger.”

You take a seat with the boys at a booth that was directly in the sight of your friends with Amelia’s back pointed in your direction. You watch with pride as Haz rolls his shoulders and walks over to Amelia, politely touching her arm. He sits in front of her and starts up a conversation, and has her shyly tucking her hair behind her ear and giggling.

“So,“ Tom says lowly, making you jump slightly at the sudden close proximity, “we just sit inside in these ridiculous disguises and watch them?”

You gasp, offended by his words, and playfully slap him across his chest, “These are not ridiculous. they’re fool-proof.”

“Right. ‘Cause no one wonder why we’re wearing hats and sunglasses inside. And it’s totally normal for the three of us to be hiding behind our menus.” He mocks, sending you a quick wink that would’ve made you weak to your knees had you been standing.

“Shut up Thomas, let me concentrate.” You giggle, pushing his face away, despite the gnawing feeling of wanting him even closer.

For an entirety of 3 excruciatingly long hours, you intently watch the couple, paying extra attention when they finally - finally - stand up to say goodbye.

You gasp as Harrison charmingly holds her hand and plants a kiss on it. You grab both Harry and Tom’s cheeks, shoving them into yours as you squealin delight, “It’s working!”

You feel Tom smile into your cheek, “You love playing Cupid, don’t you, y/n/n?”

“Oh, you bet. It’s kinda sad I don’t get to shoot people asses with an arrow to get them to fall in love but the reaction is enough to satisfy, I guess.”

Harry and Tom let out a loud laugh as you watch Haz walk Amelia out and return to the group with a dreamy smile.

“I take it it went well, didn’t it lover boy?” Harry cocks an eyebrow, as Haz jokingly punches his arm.

“She’s so..perfect. Honestly, it’s- I’m literally speechless. I asked her if she’d like to go on a second date and she said she’d love to.”

You grin widely at the revelation and was about to say how proud you are when you receive a text from Amelia, and immediately check to see if she was right. To your horror, she was.

You facepalm and slide your hand down your face as you bring your eyes to meet Haz’s, looking at him in disappointment.

What a fucking idiot.

His face drops, and he tenses, instantly panicking, “What? Did I do something wrong? Did I say something? Did she say something?”

“Haz, honey.” You smile sympathetically, “Maybe next time, check to see if your fly is down before the date.”

———

When the four of you return home, you cross out Haz’s name from the list on the whiteboard, and happily clasp your hands together as you turn to face the trio.

“All right, Haz’s mission has been a success.”

Harry snorts, “Yeah, even if she saw the Spongebob Squarepants underwear. Tell me, which character did she see? Sandy or Mr. Krabs?”

Harrison lets out an exasperated sigh while Tom and Harry high-five each other, “I told you guys, I was in a hurry this morning and this was the only one left.”

You let out an amused giggle but stop when Harrison glares at you and clear your throat. “Children,” you lightheartedly scold with an accusing finger, “settle down, it’s not that funny.”

“Yes, it is!” Tom manages to say through his wheezing, and your heart squeezes at how adorable he looks when he throws his head back in laughter.

“Anyway!” You yell, rolling your eyes, successfully grabbing the boys’ attention, “I believe it’s Harry’s turn” you turn to smile mischievously at Harry, who was now cowering in fear.

He fidgets in his seat and profusely shakes his head, “Oh, no, no. I’m good, honestly.”

“Harry, I’ve seen you cry while watching Bride Wars and cuddling a life-sized teddy.”

“So? It’s sad.” He mumbles.

“It’s a comedy, for god’s sake.” You frantically dismiss the subject, "Look, I’ve already found the perfect girl. Her name’s Sarah, she goes to the University of Arts, London, and has the same interests as you. Plus, she’s super smart, which should come in handy, especially for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He raises his eyebrow.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.” You chuckle, waving your hands around.

He shoots daggers at you before his face shifts, and you can practically see the light bulb go off in his head, “You know, you keep talking about us guys getting girls, but what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Cupid fell madly in love with Psyche. If you’re Cupid, there must be someone you fancy. Isn’t there, Cherry?” Harrison grills you, and you figure this is his way of getting back at you for calling the boy’s attention to his zipper.

“Uh,” you gulp, mind completely blanking. For the first time in your life, you practically had no comeback. No snide remark. No sass. Nothing. Your mouth went dry as your eyes briefly connect with Tom’s. He clenches his jaw and bows his head, trying to keep his lid on his simmering jealousy at the thought of you liking someone.

Someone besides him.

See, Tom was also completely head over heels for you. But because of your personality, it was hard to tell whether your flirting was just a part of you, or if you were genuinely into him.

There was always an unspoken spark between the two of you, and even if it was regularly being pointed out by friends and family members, neither of you have talked about it, nor confronted it.

It was just..there. Existing in every space, no matter the time, and though the both of you longed for one another, the profound fear of rejection and stepping over the ‘friendship’ line terminated the thought of any sort of engagement from both sides.

You simply dismissed the electricity in the air with a white, yet massive lie: “We’re just friends.”

“Well, this Cupid isn’t done with her job just yet. I still have to work on Tom, too.” You stupidly point out, mentally facepalming. Why would you say something like that?!

Great, you thought, I just forced myself to set up the love of my life with some girl and watch him happily fall in love with her and then he’ll get married and have kids and-

“I’ve..actually already got eyes on someone.”

Wait, what?

“Wait, what?” You raise your eyebrows, flashing him an incredulous look.

“Yeah, I like someone. I might even be in love with her.”

“Oh.” You slap on a plastic grin before anyone notices your crest-fallen face, rapidly blinking away the tears that have gathered in your eyes, “I’m..happy for you.”

You feel hot flashes run down your spine and your heart shattering into multiple little pieces, each bit slicing your lungs until you felt like you were suffocating. You couldn’t help but feel like an idiot, once succumbing to the hopes of maybe, just maybe, he would’ve fallen for you, too.

But, then again, who were you to get your hopes up? It’s Tom. There was no way in hell he would’ve wanted someone like you.

You clear your throat to try to get rid of the massive lump that was lodged in your airpipe and give him a humorless laugh, “Well, I guess you’re off the list, too.” 

You turn and bit your lip, supressing the tears that were just on the verge of falling as you cross his name out. You sigh and make up an excuse to leave the boys’ curious stares, saying that you needed to go shopping for groceries and snacks for the upcoming movie night that you suddenly dreaded.

Maybe you should grab an extra bucket of ice-cream for yourself.

————

“Heyo! I got double the amount of snacks because I know you fat fucks will probably focus on the food rather than the mov-“ You look up and furrow your eyebrows at the unusual sight of an empty and peaceful living room. You couldn’t help but feel your heart lighten just a bit. Maybe you really need some alone time to think.

“In here, darling!” Tom’s wavering voice calls out from the kitchen.

Or, no alone time.

Regardless of what happened a few hours ago, butterflies erupt in your stomach at the nickname before you attempt to shake them away, telling yourself he wasn’t yours, berating your body at its inability to control itself. You sigh, placing yet another plastic smile, and stroll over to the kitchen.

“Hey, Tommy. Where are the rest of the dudes?”

“Just you and I today, love.” He beams, and you could’ve sworn you caught a glint of impishness in his eyes as he walks back to the living room with a large pizza box in his hand.

But, no. Again, he isn’t yours. 

Though that didn’t stop the fire in your chest to grow with curiosity, nor did it stop the thoughts of something special happening tonight. Maybe a confession, your brain hoped.

Oh, great, you roll your eyes, now my mind and my body are betraying me.

You feign a sigh and look down at your arms that were filled to the brink with snacks, “Well,” you shrug, “can’t let the snacks go to waste.”

Once you were sure his hands were empty, you drop all the snacks on him, giggling when he threw his fists up, ready to punch.

“Y/n!” He lightheartedly rebukes you.

“Sorry, my love.” you mockingly apologize and plant a sweet kiss on his cheek, “I’m gonna go get changed.”

You run out into your room before you see his reaction and slam the door, placing your head into your hands, mouth dropping at what you’d just done.

Did you just kiss him?! 

Wait, no. 

Don’t get ahead of yourself. It was just a kiss on the cheek. A friendly kiss, no less. It’s not like you made out with him and told him you’re madly in love with him.

Wonder what would’ve happened if I went a little to the left and- no. No. Get a grip!

“Why can’t my body understand he doesn’t like me?” You whine in annoyance.

After putting on your comfy pj's, and cursing yourself underneath your breath, you waltz back into the living room, situating yourself at the other end of the couch, ignoring Tom’s confused gaze. Usually, there was not a single sliver of space between the two of you, but you figured tonight you’d have to control yourself.

“So, what’d the boys pick out?” You wonder out loud, trying to get rid of the tense awkwardness that settled in the gap between your bodies.

“Some movie called My Best Friend’s Wedding and- why are you sitting so far away?” You jump a little at the quick change of subject within a sentence.

“Wh-uh,” You stammer, rummaging through your brain for an excuse, “I might have a fever?” You state, though it comes out as a question. You add a fake cough to cover up for your lame excuse.

Tom stares at you skeptically before rolling his eyes, “You suck at lying. Come here,” He pulls you by your arms and places them around his waist while his circle your shoulders. Your typical position.

You felt confused. He liked - possibly loved - someone, yet continues to cuddle you and give you pet names. It felt like he knew something, a very specific secret, and was toying with your emotions. 

He offers you a slice of pizza when he saw your dazed expression, which instantly melted away as you began eating.

Neither of you focused on the movie, too busy moaning and eating away at the delicious pizza. Blindly, both of you reach for the last slice, resulting in mild hand-to-hand contact that set your body on fire.

You slowly look up at each other, eyes alight with warmness, before you narrow yours and snatch the slice away, “Mine!”

Tom seemed to snap out of his daze when you made a run for it, “Hey! That’s my slice! Y/N!”

He staggers to his feet, immediately running after your giggles that led him to the kitchen, where each of you was on opposite ends of the island.

Your lips curl into a menacing smile as you slowly bring the slice to your open mouth.

“Don’t,” Tom warns, gradually inching towards you.

“Or what?” You challenge.

“I..won’t talk to you for a week!”

With pursed lips, you look down at the slice, pretending to contemplate your decision before you shrug, “That’s not even a punishment-“

In a quick moment, you feel your stomach flip as you squeal and hit a hard surface, only to realize that surface is Tom’s rigid back. He’s currently holding your thrashing self over his shoulder, arms tightly gripping your legs.

“Put me down, you buffoon! I do not enjoy being this close to your ass!”

“Oh, please. Anybody would kill to be in your position.” He begins his walk back to the living room when you realize the slice laid face down on the ground, completely forgotten by Tom, but not by you.

You gasp loudly, attempting to reach for the idle pizza that seemed to be getting farther and farther away, “Wait, Tom! The pizza!”

He laughs and throws you onto the couch and lays on top of you, head on your chest. You pout and hope and pray to the gods above that he doesn’t hear the wild thundering of your heart.

You’re at the part of the movie where Julianne takes Micheal somewhere secret to confess her feelings towards him, and a snide remark casually slips from your lips.

“Those glasses make her look like Yzma from Kronk’s New Groove.”

“Oh my god, I can’t unsee that now.” He chortles wholeheartedly, and you feel the vibrations from his chest rattle your body. A jolt of love and happiness surges through your veins. His laughter was like music to your ears. You would listen to it all day if you could.

God, you’re so in love with this boy.

“Why didn’t she tell him before the wedding?” He questions after calming down, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You huff out in slight annoyance and pause the movie, turning your head to look at him, “Did you not just hear her whole rant?”

“I still don’t understand it, honestly.”

“Well..would you?” You ask, slightly afraid of the answer. You knew this question was a loaded one, that this wasn’t about the movie anymore. That is was time to confront him about what was killing you inside.

He furrows his brows, obviously caught off guard, “Would I what?”

“Um,” You suddenly sit up, body facing his, “Let’s say that we’re best friends-”

“You’re saying we’re not?” He cuts in, jokingly placing a hand on his chest, pretending to be hurt.

“-And you’re in love with me.” You roll your eyes, despite the ache in your ribs resulting from the intensity of the banging of your heart. I’m actually doing this, you think. “You’ve been in love with me for a while now. But you’re scared that I might not reciprocate those feelings. Would..would you tell me anyway?”

You knew that that was not the plot of the movie, nor was it the reason Julianne didn’t tell Michael. This was your plot now. Your story. 

He blankly stares at you for a moment before he speaks, “Well,” he starts off softly, grabbing your hand, and for a moment, you fear this might be his way of letting you down easy, “Maybe I do want to risk it. If I want to let you know, maybe I’d set something up. We’d be at home, alone, watching a romantic comedy that seems to almost match our issue. But, maybe I don’t want their ending. The one where one ends up heartbroken and the other marries someone else.”

His gentle eyes finally meet yours, and you feel yourself softening, “And maybe I’m hoping you don’t want their ending, either.”

At last, you feel most of your insecurities melting away, knowing he felt the same way you did. He cautiously inches towards your face, and you do the same, lips merely centimeters away when-

“Wait,” you push at Tom’s chest, causing him to look at you with wide, panicky eyes, “So, I was the girl you were talking about earlier?” You wince, just an ounce of anxiety lingering.

Tom scoffs and shakes his head lovingly, “Yes, you dumbass.” He goes to lean in again, and you stop him. Again.

“Wait, wait, wait.” At this point, Tom closes his eyes and huffs in frustration, “Did you just spoil the ending for me?” You ask with wide eyes, staring at him in disbelief.

“Oh, for the love of-“

He crashes his lips into yours, and you freeze for a moment before melting into him. He pulls at your waist until you’re practically straddling him, lips never detaching from one another. They move in sync, almost like they were merely made to fit and function as a unit.

Just when it was getting heated, you reluctantly pull away when you hear a ruckus near the front door.

“YES! WHO’S CUPID NOW?” Harrison barges in, pumping his fist in the air.

“You set this up?” You disbelievingly question in between your pants.

“Well, I did most of the work.” He smirks and shrugs his shoulder, just as Harry appears from the doorway, punching him in the arm, “I helped, too.” He grumbles.

You glance at Tom and your eyebrows shoot up, lightbulb instantly going off in your head, “Wow, guys.” You praise, voice dripping with slick sweetness, “I can’t believe you finally got me and Tommy together. Now I can finally kiss him whenever I want and call him whatever I want.”

“Isn’t that right, babycakes?” You dramatically coo, cradling Tom’s red face in your hands.

His eyes light up as he finally gets it and plays along, “That’s right my cuddly-wuddly.” He murmurs, rubbing his nose against yours before pulling you in for another kiss.

You titter into the kiss when you hear gagging noises accompanied by “Ugh, gross!” And “Get a room!”

Tom pulls away, resting his forehead on yours, “I love you.” He whispers, almost afraid to break the fragility of the situation. 

“Likewise, movie star.” You tease with a suppressed smile.

He shakes his head and lovingly rubs small circles on your waist when you hear Harry’s booming voice, “Why is there a dead pizza slice on the ground?”

[alexandenigtscreations]

Chapters: 2/3 Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel Additional Tags: Poisoning, Poison, Heist gone wrong, Peter Nureyev has ADHD, Rita defiantly has ADHD, Nonbinary Juno Steel, crime against crime itself, No Beta, we die like the friends of Sasha Wire, Whump, Hurt/Comfort, The Penumbra Podcast, TPP, Junoverse | Juno Steel Universe Summary:

After Nureyev get's poisoned on a mission, he's determined to see it to it's completion. He and Juno make quite the team after all.

Chapter 2

Babe-" his brow knitted together as someone shook him gently. "Babe, time to wake up." The touch was so tender- and yet it set his head off hammering.  

Nureyev groaned, hiding his face in the nook of Juno’s neck. A few more minutes in bed wouldn’t hurt.

“Come on Ransom, we’re home.” There was a hand running through his hair he leaned into the touch.  Juno’s words caught up with his mind, we’re home. More importantly, they weren’t alone.

Nureyev’s eyes flew open and locked onto Jet, his expression unreadable. This was not their bedroom aboard the Carte Blanche, this was the hanger, the Ruby; and once again, he was making a scene in front of Jet. Confound it all.  

He unfurled best he could, breath catching with the unexpected wave of nausea. His hand pressed to his corset front so that he nearly fell back into Juno.  

“Babe?” Through the thick molasses of thought, Nureyev dragged his attention back to the Detective.  

“Hmm?” His voice came small and weak, even to his own ears. Still he was determined to project some semblance of normalcy. He forced leadend limbs to extricate himself from the Ruby, Juno right behind.  

“The Big Guy has something to say.” The Detective jerked his head towards Jet, his pearl earrings dancing in the light.  

“Indeed-” he turned to Nureyev, an extra crease forming in his brow “First, are you alright Ransom? You do not look well.” the Ruby whistled as if in agreement.

Nureyev hummed “Nothing a little rest won’t help-” he rubbed absently at his throat, sure that bruises had made themselves visible. “What- were you going to say?”

“Buddy set the family meeting to take place in one hour's time.” Jet explained. “As we could not hear you during the mission, there are details we require about Mx. Balsa and-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah Big Guy, we know how the Family Meetings go by now.” Juno cut in hand on hip.

“I find it beneficial to go over procedures to ensure quality performance.”

“Okay, yeah. Guess that makes sense, but-”

There was an explosion that shook the entirety of the carte blanche, nearly toppling Nureyev. Half formed thoughts of security and debt collectors flashed through his mind.    

Were they there?  We're they coming for him?

Before they could so much as ask a question, Rita started to wail and Vespa cursed loudly from the direction of the kitchen. Jet excused himself and went to investigate leaving the pair alone with the Ruby.

“The hell was that?” Juno was tense, every muscle in his being straining towards the commotion.  His goddess was ever the curious one.  The scene was enough to make Nureyev smile.

“Oh go on Juno- she may require- your services.”

Juno’s head whipped back to face him, the pearl earrings flashing in the warm light. “But what about you?”

“Me? Why I’ll be fine- Detective.”

His eye was large, soft and unsure. He so wanted to check on his friend and yet, was plainly reluctant to leave Nureyev’s side

“But-”

“We can play doctor later. For now- go-”

That seemed to do the trick. He flushed prettily at that, “Well, if you’re sure-”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” he turned and Nureyev could hear him muttering under his breath “Damnit Rita- If this is another one of your snacks I swear-” before disappearing from sight.  

Fine, as it turned out, may have been an overstatement.

As soon as Juno left, he realized just how unwell he felt. He'd half a mind to call the Detective back, or call Vespa-  

Vespa-

His head throbbed at the thought of having to see her in such a state. No, a good lie down should surface.

Nureyev wasn't sure how he'd managed to make it back to his room. He felt heavier and heavier with each foot fall, each movement becoming more of a labor. Pain flared at his core, tripping him up. He fell hard into the wall smacking his temple hard enough to see stars.  

Get a grip on yourself, he chastised, frustration flashing bright and hot within. He hissed as his stomach lurched, acrid saliva rushing to pool in his mouth. Reflexively, he pressed a hand flat to his stomach, trying to breathe through it. Now he was just being foolish. All that he could do was will himself to not be sick.  

Then where would you be- he shook himself glancing up. Still the corridor stretched out long and treacherous. Unyielding in it it's length and tedium.  

There was nothing for it but to tredge on.

The closer he got to his room the greater the pain in his abdomen. He leaned on his door and put in the security code with shaking hands. Sweat trickling down his face, his back, plastering the finery to skin.  

A fresh stab of pain slammed into Nureyev just as the door swooshed open. He toppled in, the world blurring in a dizzying kaleidoscope of color. It was as though he was in a Martian teleporter again, careening through space and matter, no discernable surroundings, just the fall. He flailed. An eternity later his knees hit hard into the sea of debris masking the floor.  

What just happened? He was left to wonder, face pressed into a pile of clothes. Gasping, he attempted to pull himself upright but he couldn’t manage. It didn't make sense! Arms strong enough to scale a building should not feel so weak, so very hard to support- as though bone had been replaced with cast iron.  

Nureyev shifted, trying again to sit, maybe get to his bed, his comms- pain ripped through him. This time he couldn't hold back the strangled yell as he convulsed around his middle.  

Somewhere, in the back of his mind he realized he could die like this, and there would be nothing he could do.

He sent a silent apology to Juno.

"The Thief still isn't here-" growled Vespa.

"Yeah, I know." Said Juno. It wasn't like Nureyev to be late, especially to something scheduled by the Buddy Aurinko.  

"So what could be taking him so damn long Steel."

"Well I'd say it's the sabotage plan Vespa, I hear those are pretty lengthy."

"Oh very funny!"

"Look, I know about as much as you do okay?" Juno shot back, irritation getting the better of him. Okay, so the man didn't give them a name, why the hell did they have to continue to gang up on him? "Last thing he told me before Rita's microwave mishap-"

"It said microwavable on the tin Boss!"

"Yes but you have to take it out before you- god, Okay, look, not the point! Ransom said he wasn't feeling well and wanted a nap before the meeting."

"You are thinking he fell asleep like he did in the Ruby." Jet added thoughtfully while Rita wove elaborate braids into his hair and trimmed away the singed ends.

"Mista Ransom ain't feeling well? You should give him a kiss and make him feel better Mista Steel. Oh! Like in Jovian Princess! Lights Out, where the beautiful princess is awakened from her slumber of a thousand years by the other princess from a warring kingdom! And-"

"Rita dear, you bring up a fine point." Buddy interjected smoothly, "Pete's not here and the only one who can tell us why is Pete. And seeing as he made up a significant part of the heist-"

Juno knew where this was going and was already half out of his seat "I'll get him."

"Thank you darling." Buddy smiled.  

The door to Nureyev's room was, predictably, closed. Juno knocked "Babe? You in there?"

No reply.

Frowning he tried again "Babe?"

Nothing.

"I'm coming in."

The doors swooshed open to reveal the environmental hazard that was his boyfriend's room. The bed was empty, if you didn't count crumpled paper, and mounds of equipment and clothes. Hell, the man could use a few cleaning tips-

He spotted a molded plate of- something-

Or an encyclopedia...

He cast his eye about, trying to make sence of the "I-Spy" chaos of the room, before giving up to look elsewhere when he spotted a leg in the mess.

"Nureyev!" Juno couldn't help but call out fear spiking in his chest. The man was lying on his side, curled up around his middle, racked in tremors. Tangled in the mess around him enough to be camouflaged.  "Nureyev! Hey, hey hey babe-'' he dove to his side, carefully rolling him up into his arms. He whimpered faintly, protesting the movement. "I'm here, what's wrong?"

Tenderly, Juno smoothed back the hair sticking to his clammy brow. Hell, why was he so cold?

"Ju-no-" normally, Juno loved the way Nureyev said his name. As though it were a damned love language all its own.  But now it was a small broken thing as though he'd put all his strength into it. As though he were surprised Juno was there at all. He was looking at him with those eyes again, but the brightness was…. strange- glassy. It was taking him too long to focus. "Ju-no-" his chest stuttered "I- ugh-" he collapsed further in on himself, face contorting in pain. All this took seconds, but might as well have been an eternity.  

"Nureyev! Come on babe, don't do that!" Juno's mind spun wildly. He wasn’t dealing with some mask now, not Rex Glass, or Duke Rose, not even Peter Ransom. No, this was Peter Nureyev striped bare- and he was in serious pain. The man keened in a way that was so very wrong for him. The sound was barely above a whisper yet cut Juno to his core.  

“H-hurts-”

“I-I know babe, just- just give me a sec- Just-”

That's when he saw it, the odd discoloration of Nureyev's lips. He'd missed at first because of the faint pigment that clung to his features. His words of a few hours ago came floating back 'just a tad under the weather... something I drank…'

He had told him.  

Hours ago.  

He had told him hours ago and Juno had done nothing.  

Steel you goddamned idiot! He scrambled for his comms, murmuring assurance to his thief as he went, trying to ease him back open. He couldn't squash the rising panic now.

"Steel, what the hell-"

"We need help! Vespa- please!" Nureyev stilled again, his chest working overtime, producing short, shallow bursts of air. Arm wrapped over the corsets front.  

Goddamned it! His corset!

Juno swore loudly into the comms, tossing them down on speaker, "I went looking for him, and, Christ-" his hand slipped on a fastening, slicing deep into his palm. Why were these clasps so hard do undoo? "H-h-he's sick Vespa, really sick. Dammit I- I think he was poisoned-"

“Poisoned?” Even through the fear fogging his brain he could hear the scrape of chairs and pounding feet. “What do you mean by that Steel?”

“Poisoned! You know, when something gets into your body that isn’t supposed-” Nureyev’s hand closed around his wrist, shocking him out of the pointless rant. As if trying to stop Juno from undoing more of the fastenings. “It’s gotta come off babe-”

“Nn-no-” he choked out.

"You need to breathe Ransom-" he said, easily breaking his grip. That too was wrong but there wasn't time for that. Nureyev curled with each fastener undone, gasping and trembling. It was hard for Juno to not feel like the worst girlfriend in the Galaxy.  

"Course I know what poisoning is!" Vespa snapped "what I don't know is how the hell did he manage to get himself poisoned."

At some point Nureyev had turned into Juno, a hand tangling in his shirt, the other clamped around his stomach as tightly as he could manage. The movements were odd clumsy things that lacked his usual precision, his grace.

He was quite then, an eerie silence that spoke of years of hidden spaces and dangerous places. Normally he'd be trying to be as useful to Vespa as possible, filling her in on the necessary details. But not now.  

Juno hated that more than anything else.

"The mission. There was some sort of stupid test- a-a-and he told me not to drink it! Damnit it! He told me! I-I never even thought that he might of-"

“Cool it Steel.” Vespa cut in, not unkindly. “I’m getting the Med Bay setup. You gonna bring him to us, or should I send the gurney?”

Nureyev was long, lean and wiry. Not the easiest person to move around but Juno managed it before. Admittedly, those were more entertaining moments, but the presidents still stands.

“I’ll bring him.”

“Great. Move the thief, and I’ll be ready for you.” at any other time that may have sounded like a threat, but now it sounded like the most reassuring thing he’s ever heard.  

All he had to do was move Nureyev, he could do that.  

Juno glanced down at the man holding onto him like a lifeline, his face tucked into the popped collar of his coat. He hadn’t even taken it off. God-

Carefully, Juno shifted him, Nureyev hissed, pressing closer.  

What was he supposed to do with that? Juno took a deep steading breath of his own, running his fingers through Nureyev’s damp locks in what he hoped to be a comforting manor.  

“Okay babe, we’re going to have to move you” perhaps telling him would make it easier. He tried again, sweeping his arm behind his shoulders and lifting. Only for his foot to catch on the coat trane, he tripped shaking the nameless thief something fierce-

Nureyev cried out at the jostling- folding so that his gangly form nearly slipped through Juno's grasp. They just made it to the bed before his hold broke. The Thief spilled onto the unmade covers, holding his stomach, eyes squeezed shut. Breathing, just, breathing.  

Juno knew that look. And Dammit he was the one that put that look there. After he swore to himself that he’d never hurt him again.  

Nope, no, ugh-ah, no way in hell could he do this- He’d have to call for a stretcher after all.

“You comin some time this century, Steel?”

How long had they been there? “I- it’s hurting him.”

“Jesus Steel! Better pain than death!”

"But-" his brain caught up to his mouth, "yeah-" what the hell was wrong with him? He'd try again but first the coat had to go.

The Detective essed an arm over his shoulders before gathering the rest of the thief. Long limbs sitting strangely in the Lady's hold. There was a lot to manage, but manage, Juno did. It got easier after the hell scape of Nureyev's room.  

Nureyev's head lolled against Juno's neck, as though he couldn't support its weight.

"Hang on babe." Juno wheezed "just- for me, please-"

His lungs were tight and his legs burned, his burden heavier with each step, but it hardly mattered, they were nearly there now-

"Vespa!" He shouted, he'd forgotten the comms, "I got him!"

"Bout damn time! A Rengian sea slug could of moved faster!" She said, all the same indicating the operating table.

Juno had to raise up on tip toe to clear Nureyev onto the bedding. The man fell away with a piteous groan, fingers digging into the ruined shirt front.

"I know Babe, I know- We are having you looked at though."

That didn't seem to calm him down, if anything he became more distressed. Tried to raise himself up, move his legs, only to collapse back.

"Babe- babe come on-"” at a loss, Juno cupped Nureyev’s face in one hand, while the other was planted firmly on the man’s chest, mirroring the frantic dance of his own crappy lungs. “Ransom- babe, you’re- okay now”

“Jun-no- I don' feel- well-” it looked like it was hard for him to say, and not just because the words came out heavily accented and slurred.

“I know babe, Vespa is on it.”

"Vess-pa?" He glanced over, eyes widening at the acid green.

"Yeah Ransom, it's me."

Was it his imagination? Or did Nureyev seem to recoil? Shrinking in on himself as though trying to protect vitals.  

"Ransom, hey hey hey-" he tried to refocus him.  

"Hold 'im steady, I need a blood sample."

"Rr-right." He said, pressing Nureyev back into the covers. The man offered no resistance and Juno was left anxiously thumbing his cheek while the deed was done.

Vespa pushed him out of the way after that, cursing at her inspection of the thief and kept barking questions Juno's direction like:

"When did he get poisoned?” and “How much did he take?” and “What symptoms did the thief present?”

There were only a few questions Juno was equipped to answer. The mounting unknowns were only adding to his pile of worry. God, if Nureyev dies because he wasn’t paying attention- dies because he hadn't watched him more? Or at the very least got him checked out after puking his guts out in an ally.  

The man had been poisoned right in front of him and Juno hadn’t noticed.  

The man had been poisoned right in front of him and hadn’t thought to tell Juno-

Juno couldn't help but wonder why?  

Vespa cut away Nureyev's shirt, exposing the narrow muscled frame and the delicate criss cross of scars.  The ones he didn't bother remove.

Weren't they partners?  

She attached wireless monitors over his heart, his pulse points. Getting Juno to help clear away the rags.

Did he still not trust him?  

There was more swearing as their resident doc looked at the blood readings, already plugging something into the system. Christ, he was useless with computers, but even he knew that heartbeat was weak.

He couldn't help feel as though he were useless to Nureyev too-

Then he noticed it- Nureyev's chest had stopped moving.  

"Vespa!" He called out fear clawing at his insides. To her credit, she saw it right away.

"Goddamn it thief! I'm not done with you yet!" Rather than trying to get his lungs working again, she tore into her supplies with the care and ferocity of a sewer rabbit navigating it's tunnels. Everything remained impeccably organized, if a little man handled. The monitor started to sound urgently.

"There-" she said in triumph, holding out a large vial.

He couldn't understand what the big deal was-. Too preoccupied with the still form Infront of him.  "Vespa, he's not-"

"It's liquid oxygen moron," she said, filling a syringe "this way we have time to intubate."

"Intubate?" That was- serious- hell, Juno had it done before and the weeks of respiratory therapy were enough of a deterrent to avoid a third encounter-

Well, as much as someone in his line of work could-

The needle was worked into Nureyev's arm, and the contents released. The monitor began to calm down, but Vespa didn't slow.  

"You need to leave Steel." She growled. "Now."

He looked at her incredulous, how the hell did she think that he could leave at a time like this? He was about to say as much too when she elaborated

"You don't want to see this."

"But"

"I Said Out! I can't babysit you both!"

It might as well have been a knife to the gut. Juno took one glance more at Nureyev, frozen on the table, and walked out.

(Thank you for reading <3  Reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated)

[captainkirkmccoy]

We get a lot of Jim's birthday, but what about Jim doing something for Bones the first birthday he can't see Joanna? (my quarantine birthday is coming up and I need a pick me up 😊)

“Bones, love of my life, sole owner of my heart, can you promise me something?”

Jim locks himself in Bones office, not that his husband would notice really, because he’s too busy focusing on the PADD in front of him, glaring at it the way he glares at ensigns who don’t show up for vaccinations on time. 

“You say something, Jim?” Bones says after a minute, blinking up at Jim. 

“Can you not make Chekov cry again? Sulu might challenge you to a duel, and we know you can’t handle a sword, so I’ll have to do it, and I really don’t want to be eviscerated by my pilot.”

Bones sighs, rubs at his temples. “I didn’t make Pavel cry. I just wasn’t happy with the news he delivered. Might’ve overreacted.”

“You taught him some curses even I haven’t yet. And he thinks you’re mad at him. He’s commandeered the communications hub to make you an apology card.”

Jim leans into Bones, slotting himself into place the way he has more times than he can count. He knows about the news Chekov delivered--and he wished he hadn’t. He’s already been on the comm all day, figuring out ways around it. 

“I’m sorry we won’t be back Earth side for your birthday.” He says into Bones’ hair. 

“No big deal.”

“Mr. Chekov wouldn’t agree with you.”

He hears Bones’ huff of breath. “Every birthday I’ve seen her. I don’t even know what it would be without that.”

Jocelyn is militant about Joanna’s visitations. She gets to see Bones on her birthday, but she had the flu, and his. And the brief shore leaves on Earth, which every year during Bones’ birthday they’ve been on the Enterprise, has coincided. Not that Jim had anything to do with that. At all. 

But this year they’re too far to make it back. A milk run and a rescue mission back to back will place them to many systems away from Earth to get back in time. Jim tried pulling favors to get Jocelyn and Jo on a ship so they could meet halfway--no dice. 

“I’m so sorry, babe.” Jim threads his fingers into the nape of Bones’ neck. He knows about shitty birthdays. Before Bones, before the Academy, his birthday consisted of a warm body and bottles of whatever took the edge off. 

Bones takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, turns his face into Jim’s neck. “It’ll be fine. Just a day, right?”

Right.

***

“Jim.” 

“Nope, not right now.” Jim tells the guts of the display system. 

“Excuse me?” The voice incredulously asks. 

Jim’s head collides with the panel door. “Shit, ow, sorry, Uhura. What’s going on?”

“I’ve heard back from all the departments, we’re a go for the non-essential blackout.”

He could kiss her. “Oh, thank god.”

“What else do you need?”

“Right now? For this display to stop being a little shit.” 

Jim hears Uhura’s shoes click clack on the floor before smelling her floral perfume as she settles down next to him. “Want me to get Scotty?”

“I’ve got him and Chekov running Bones interference.”

“Good luck with that.”

“That’s what I said.” Jim slams the panel door closed sends a silent prayer to any deity that might be listening that this works.

***

“Bunch of halfwits. Who shaves off their eyebrows twice?” Bones says as he enters their quarters.

Jim winces and makes a mental note to send Chekov and Scotty a fruit basket or something later. 

Before Jim can get farther into their rooms, Jim stops him. “Bones! I haven’t seen you all day. We were supposed to have birthday lunch.”

“Thank the entirety of engineering who decided to actually show up early for their checkups.” Bones grumbles and accepts a kiss. 

“Aw, its like they wanted to give you a birthday present.”

Bones snorts. “Please tell me we can drink now.”

“Not yet. We’ve got that safety seminar, remember. On the observation deck?”

Bones face scrunches up. “This day keeps getting better and better.”

Jim tugs Bones into the hallway, nodding at two ensigns who quickly salute and then dart off, knowing smiles following behind. 

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” Jim says, pushing the wide double doors of the observation bay open. The large windows have been replaced with the display screens he installed earlier. 

Bones grumbles about being the first to arrive as Jim checks his comm. Right on time. 

The displays blink on and Jo’s toothy seven-year-old grin fills the large screen. Bones gasps--actually takes a shuttering breath and stumbles forward. Thank goodness, Jim’s there to hold him up and push him into a comfortable chair. “Jo? Baby?”

“Daddy!”

Jim’s not sure he can hand out commendations for this but he desperately wants to. He owes his crew. Big time. 

For all that their ship is high tech, best in class, and so on, they still can’t get past communication blackouts this far into the black. And Starfleet, no matter how much they owe Bones, can’t just grant resources to pushing a video call on a flagship’s CMO birthday. It took some major juice--the juice that running all systems and causing a virtual blackout would do--to power this call. 

But hearing Jo sing happy birthday and Bones blink away happy tears and grip his hand so tight that Jim thinks his husband’s palm lines are imprinted on his own--is worth it. 

“When you come home, Jim says we’re going to spend a whole week together!”

Oh yeah, and he managed to call in that favor after all. Couldn’t get Jo here in time but he could get Joce and Clay a Risa vacation in exchange for a week with Jo when they dock on Earth next month. 

Bones squeezes his hand again and mouths, Thank you. And Jim leans into him and hopes he knows that no thanks is necessary. 

“Happy birthday, Bones.” He says instead, kissing his temple and grinning as Jo holds up a large poster happy birthday sign. 

Maybe birthdays don’t have to be so bad after all. 

[happy-beeeps]

I Don’t Do Droids Pt 4

Pairing: translator!reader x Din Djarin

WC:2.5k woohoo! Longest part yet!

Warnings: cursing, brief mention of space slavery, incredibly quick speed throughs of episodes 1 and 2 on my part.

A/N: We’ve jumped ahead! I wanted to start focusing on their relationship, and getting Yodito in the mix. Also, I’m sorry if anyone is disappointed that I skipped over massive parts of each episode, I didn’t want this to just be a speed through of the episodes. I probably won’t even touch on much of episodes 5 and 6, this is just a good spot to start! As always, if there’s something you want to see, let me know!

* * *

In the months you’ve spent flying with Mando, you had to admit, this was one of the weirder jobs you’d accompanied him on. The lack of information, the remote location, and the clientele had made this a much more… complicated mission.

Still, you had to admit. That shiny beskar pauldron on his shoulder glinter with just the right amount of starlight, you could imagine the motivation for finishing the job. Letting a glance linger on him a moment more, you tried to think what he’d look like covered in the silverish metal.

“What are you staring at vaar’ika?”

“Thinking about what your bucket head is gonna look like with a matching tin suit.” You responded, earning a quiet scoff from your counterpart. He relaxed back in his seat for a moment, before switching the controls to autopilot. “Gonna check the weapons. Can you watch the ship?”

“What did you hire me for?”

“Speaking mostly, you already excel at that.” He placed a gentle touch to the top of your arm, letting it linger just a moment too long before tearing his glance away. Even under the shield of his visor, his eyes felt heavy on you. “Right then I’ll just… watch the ship.” You smiled, turning your attention to anything, the stars bleeding into one another out the window, the dust under the controls, literally anything but the giant man standing behind you. Once you heard the door behind him close, you released a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. The months you two had spent close together, waiting for him on the ship while he wrestled in a new quarry, hunched over children's books you had saved on your datapad while you tried to teach him new languages, your feelings for the Mandalorian had absolutely flourished. You hated it. Each moment spent with him was suffocating, you felt butterflies in your belly when he touched you, leaving scorching marks where his fingers had been.

All this fanfare for a man you couldn’t even see.

The sound of quick beeps brought you back into your senses, as you prepared to switch the ship off of autopilot. “Mando!” you called, and were met with the sound of bustling and clambering as he stepped back into the cockpit. The bright light of Arvala-7 soon came into view as he pulled the ship out of hyperspace, and you looked around at the landscape as you circled around to land. “Looks like Tatooine.”

“Not every sand planet looks like Tatooine.”

“Yeah, well, this planet also has Jawas, so it’s basically Tatooine, alright bucket head?” “There are no Jawas here. You’re being ridiculous.”

“Who’s the linguistic genius of this operation?” You asked, earning nothing but an exasperated sigh from the man next to you as he set the ship down in a seemingly deserted sand patch. “I still think there’s Jawas here.”

* * *

“Just, stay here. Don’t start anything.”

“You act like I haven’t been with you for months now.”

“And you have the blaster I gave you?”

“Alright thanks dad, go do your thing now. I’m a functioning adult.” The ramp lowers as he prepares to step out into the blinding sunlight before he turns to face you. “I need to train you more on a blaster.” With his final remarks, you’re left on the ship, with a tiny blaster gifted to you by the weapons obsessed man before he steps out.

He makes it, by your guess, maybe a tenth of a click away from the ship before he gets absolutely rocked by two gigantic creatures. You laugh for a moment, before realizing how long it’s taking him to get up. “Oh shit,” you mumble, before keying in the code to lower the ramp to run out to him. Once you’re out there, and the gigantic creatures face you, you realize how stupid you look, tiny blaster pointing at these huge animals, shots reflecting off their thick hide. “I thought I told you to stay on the ship!”

“Oh yeah you have everything totally under control here!” You call, while one of the animals tears itself away from Mando to come charge at you. “Shit shit shit shit shit!” you call out, sending shots at them and resorting to a run. You’re saved by a large shot to the animals side, more following onto the remaining member of the herd. You glance over at Mando, pinned by one of the beasts, when a small Ugnaught approaches, riding his own creature. “Thank you.” Mando offers, and you’re always put off by how reserved he is with strangers. If he’s quiet with you, then he’s radio silent to everyone else.

“You’re a bounty hunter?” The man offers him.

“Yes.”

“And you?” He says, looking over at you, where you stand. The two of you must be a sight, a battered Mandalorian and a you, clad in your favorite skirt and shortened top from a market stall in Naboo, you had prepared yourself for a day of comfort, and secret blaster practice while he got the quarry. “I’m his translator.”

“Mmm,” he mumbles, looking pensive for a moment before giving a short and simple, “I will help you.” Mando looks over at you, and you glance up at the Ugnaught again before he speaks once more. “I have spoken.”

* * *

The Ugnaught’s camp is quaint, you happen to quite like it. Mando looked large and uncomfortable, nestled around smaller, homier things, but you happen to feel rather at ease. The man seems kind and blunt, two things you value, and it reminds of your home in Coruscant, or the small place you lived on Tatooine. Now, however, you are brought to the ever present mortality of your counterpart's profession, as you saddle up behind him on the bluurg he will ride to the location of the asset. You and the Ugnaught will return to his farm after dropping Mando off, you know better to mess with him and a quarry, and frankly, from the way it sounds, it would take a miracle for you to not die on the way. “Hey, Mando?” you start, as you stand next to him by the bluurg, “can you try not to die on this one?”

“Don’t I always?”

“Just… try double hard?” He looks down at you, holding your wrist for just a moment before softly speaking, “Is that the scarf I bought you on Devaron?” Before you could offer a reply, the Ugnaught returned. “We will leave when you’re ready. I have spoken.”

The ride to the asset’s location is long, and under different circumstances, probably enjoyable. Blurrgs were fun to ride, they way the bounded over the canyons made you feel free. The feeling of dropping off Mando at the encampment still clung to you like a wet rag. You couldn’t wait to be done with this bounty.

* * *

You appreciated that the Ugnaught (whose name you learned was Kuiil, when you realized that Mando had forgotten to ask) was kind enough to not only keep you at his camp for the night, but keep you busy. He was kind, talkative, and appreciated the help in small repairs. “You seem to have much knowledge of many things. Where are you from?”

“I’m from Naboo originally, I had a very expensive education.” “Naboo is wonderful, so I’ve heard. Was rule under the empire hard on your people?” The question struck you with some difficulty. The rule was by no means hard, you just happened to be unlucky. “Not entirely. I didn’t get to live there long. I enjoyed it very much though, I would love to go back.”

“Why did you leave?”

“I…  was studying to be a handmaiden for the queen. When I was twelve, the academy was attacked. We were picked off and sold into slavery. My owner fell into hardship, and freed all of us before fleeing the system. I was on Tatooine for many years before I was helped by a man. An old bounty hunter, who needed some assistance on a job. He gave me credits and contact, and dropped me off on Coruscant.” Kuiil hesitated for a moment before reaching over and placing a gentle hand on yours. “I was a slave for many years. I worked for my freedom, and now I live here in peace. I empathize with you. You would’ve made an excellent handmaiden, but I think you work much better with the Mandalorian.”

“Thank you. Although, I have to admit, he’s fun and all, but have you seen how fancy some of the dresses the Nabian royalty get to wear?” With that Kuiil let out a hearty laugh before patting your hand. “Get some rest. Your Mandalorian will return in the morning. He cares deeply for you.” He rose with this, and you stretched out on the bench in the hut. You shot him a confused look quickly, “What do you mean?” He smiled before walking towards the small cot in the far side of the room. “I have spoken.”

* * *

Kriff. He was going to kill you. Actually kill you, chop you into little pieces and then feed them to Kuiil’s blurggs. You knew it wasn’t your fault, Kuiil had assured you that Mando would’ve been in the hut with you too, but still.

Jawas had stripped the entirety of the Razor Crest. Every tiny piece. They even took the very thing you were looking for, the ceramic caff cup you got on Rodia. “Kuiil. He’s going to kill me.”

“He will not.” “He’s gonna drop me off at Mustafar and never look back.”

You spent the day assisting Kuiil with any repairs you could, and practicing your shooting at the abandoned part of his farm. Every passing minute made you more anxious, you needed him to be back soon, but you couldn’t imagine how he’d feel when he returned, and asked to go back to the ship.

It was nearly the following nightfall when he returned, and you could tell by the way he walked that he was not very pleased. You ran out of Kuiils house to meet him, “Mando!” you yelled, running towards him, he visibility softened at the sight of you, grabbing your arms before asking, “Are you ok? The Jawas took everything. Were you on the ship?”

“Mando I’m so, so sorry. I thought you said there weren’t any and I didn’t even think to guard it and-”

“We’ll deal with it somehow.” He responded, before turning his attention to the busted control pad on his arm, leaving you to soak in the adorable green bundle at his feet. “This is what everyone was searching for?” Kuiil asked, causing Mando to look up for just a moment.

“I believe it's a child.” he responded, leaving you to send them both a scoff. You scooped up the tiny baby in your arms before turning to them. “Ugh, men. Of course it’s a baby. It’s PRECIOUS.”

“Best to turn it in alive then.” Kuiil said, sending a sinking feeling into your gut. Turn it in. For some reason or another, this was a bounty, and it was Mando’s job to turn it in.

“I will take you to the Jawas to get your parts. I have spoken.”

* * *

You and Mando had returned to the ship, him absolutely caked in mud, and you still smirking over the memory of his butchered Jawa Trade Talk. The ride back to Kuiil’s was quiet, him brooding over the baby in its floating bassinet. He had mentioned something amazing had happened, but said nothing more. “You’re lucky they didn’t try and use Jawaese, you can barely get trade talk down.” You had teased, trying to lighten his mood. After a few moments of silence he retorted, “Says more about my teacher than me.” With a gentle nudge to your side.

Now, you were practically knee deep in parts, as you worked with him to repair the ship after he had bargained with the Jawas, and retrieved their weird fuzzy egg. The baby was beside him, enclosed in the bassinet, while he worked on finishing up some of the interior wiring in the hull. Kuiil had turned in for the night, leaving the two of you to work until you were exhausted.

There was something about seeing him like this, with the baby floating behind him, tools slinging off of his hip as he repaired the ship… he’s almost paternal. Your heart flies up to your chest as you watch him work in the soft work light you had loaned from Kuiil, and the warm fire that barely dripped in from outside the camp. In spite of yourself, you let yourself stare a little more, wondering if he’s handsome underneath that helmet. What color his eyes are. You’re almost sure they’re brown, the inviting and comforting kind. You can’t shake it, it’s the same desire you felt on Devaron. The woes of falling for a man you’ll never see. Your moment of solitude is up when he turns to face you, letting a breathy laugh escape from under his helmet-- so slight the modulator almost lets it by. “What are you staring at?” Maybe it’s the light, or maybe it was the chaos of these past few days, but you let yourself say it. “You.” He hesitated for a moment before stepping closer to you, leathered hand snaking around your wrist. “Would you believe it if I said I was staring at you too?” You turned away from him, a deep blush spreading across your face as you tried to look anywhere but at him. “Your dumb visor blocks me out, how am I supposed to know if you’re lying or not?”

“I guess you’ll just have to trust me.” Your red faded into a pink as his hand snaked up to rest on your cheek, you leaned into it and felt him step even closer. “Can I trust you?” he asked, his voice soft and quiet. He leaned over and tapped out the work light next to you, plunging the hull of the ship into pitch black. “You can trust me.” You whispered, and his thumb traced your cheek for just a moment before he responded. “Good. Close your eyes” In seconds, you heard the sound of his helmet coming off, and you squeezed your eyes shut, willing them closed with all your might before you felt his lips on yours. You sighed into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck and running your fingers along the edges of his hair. It felt longer than you expected, but not unkempt. His breath tasted like caff, and something else you couldn’t quite place, and you could melt into how soft his lips were. This was perfect, this was bliss. You could die right here and now so help you gods. He pulled away far too soon, and you soon heard the hiss of the helmet reconnecting. “You can open your eyes now,” he murmured, and he was once again illuminated by the soft work lamp. “You have no idea how long I wanted to do that,” he spoke, and you stepped towards him, placing his hand in yours, “Well, maybe I’ll just have to stare at you more often.”

[danddymaro]

A Dance Just For Two | PT.2

Previous : Just You

Word count : 2761

Pt. 2: Marshmallows

It was late by the time they had arrived home, actually a smidge past midnight.

So, of course, neither of the two would have expected to run into anyone. 

As far as (f/n) was aware of, Natasha was away on assignment.

 It was one she didn’t bother to disclose too much information on, which wasn't too much out of the ordinary because Nat never really revealed too much about where she was going, or what she’d do when she left.

It was always confidential, and everyone knew to not ask.

The redhead had left two days prior on a starless night, dressed in her form-fitting black uniform, leaving with nothing more than what was on her. 

And though she was strict about what she’d reveal about her missions, she did, however, offer a small smile, along with her goodbye as she usually did.

Clint Barton had long left, announcing his retirement with a tired and half-hearted smile following up the battle in Sokovia. Prioritizing his family was beyond anything else, and seeing the growing team, he decided it was a good moment to part ways.

And hell, (f/n) couldn't blame him, because if she had a family herself, she’d pick them over everything else in the world.

Bruce Banner was still MIA, his whereabouts being a mystery to everyone, and worry ensued for him.

He was a kind man with a heavy curse, one he had no control of, and the (h/c) haired young woman could only hope he found his way back soon, returning back home safe and sound. But for the moment, it seemed that he didn’t want to be found and it was clear as day.

It was also plainly obvious that his departure had its effect on a certain member, 

‘That’s probably why she keeps herself so busy now...’ (f/n) thought to herself with a touch of sadness.

Thor had also decided to part ways, his face filled with conflict as he bid his farewell, seeming to have too much on his mind to express.

Up to date, he hadn’t sent word back, and she wished there was a way to reach him, just to know if he was alright out there. (f/n) couldn’t even begin to imagine what things lay beyond the earth, what other threats the thunder god took care of alone. 

She could only hope that whatever dangers he encountered, they were no match for his might.

Wanda Maximoff had become an official member of the Avengers not long after the battle in Sokovia.

She grieved over the loss of her only kin, her hands empty as she realized she had nothing more left because everything she cared for had been there at her side until his final breath, bloodied on the battlefield.

However, Clint Barton assured her she had a place, that she could pull through because her young life was filled with promise. 

Every day since then, the young woman worked tirelessly to gain more control of her strange powers, learning ways to expand the manipulation of them she had access to.

Vision, who had also become a member after the events aided her, the two becoming a close pair soon after, an obvious attachment grown between them during the duration of time.

They went together like youth and inexperience, and in a sense, they represented the two sides perfectly.

The artificial being, though not requiring rest, would often partake in the falls of slumber, most often times around 10, finding it to be a reasonable hour, whereas Wanda was a toss between ten or three, with no real indicator to which she would lean to.

Either way, she stayed in her quarters, unbothered by the world outside.

Tony, of course, was someone else who stayed up late quite often, stuck in his laboratory doing things (f/n) would never come to understand because to put it plainly, she wasn't a whiz kid like he was. He stayed locked in the wide space, a dark roast of hot beverage chugged down excessively with frequency.

Heck, the man lived on coffee.

But she knew well enough it wasn't just the drink that had him up, it was much more that would haunt him, leaving him restless at night.

What was much more to leave him awake: Pepper’s absence.

What solace he’d find at her side at night went missing as she left.

“ A small business trip,” she said, to which everyone believed.

But then she didn’t return to the home, nor was she frequently shown at Stark's side like before.

She was still active as CEO of his company, something he’d never take from her, because all in all, she earned it. She was his successor despite any strain in their relationship, and (f/n) found it fitting.

(f/n) was close to Tony Stark, having grown a mutual fondness at first that grew into genuine feelings of love. And while she was certain they could speak about anything, Tony was someone that didn’t like bothering people with his own problems too.

Similar to her, he felt like a burden while opening his heart.

‘It would be nice if we could all just let go,’ She mused, ‘Let go of all the feelings that anchor us.’ She added, knowing that all of them had something that weighed them down.

Side glancing at the blonde beside her, (f/n) smiled softly, ‘ Would I be happier if I let you go?’ She wondered.

‘Or can I actually find a way to reach you, reaching happiness that way?’

The gentle warmth of the spacious room then spread all around her, smoothing her like a fluffy blanket, bringing her instant comfort, to the point of making a small moan of delight leave her to show her contentment.

Needless to say, it felt good to be home, and when she said that there was no place like home, she truly meant it. 

There truly was absolutely no place like the Avengers facility, and she would go so far as to admit that it was far better than the tower they had previously gathered within.

‘It’s perfect,’ she thought gleefully as a sweet, creamy scent wafted towards her, tickling her nose and making her mouth moist with desire for the teasing, traveling aroma, even if she wasn't quite sure what it was.

She couldn't pinpoint it, but it was somewhere there on the tip of her tongue, moreover, it made her feel giddy for some reason. 

And hidden in the background, being outshined by the visiting smell was a smokey wild cherry that was more recognizable and well known throughout the place.

The crisp “snip-snap” cracking sounds of the blazing fire in the room caught her attention, causing her to pull up a soft smile at the view, knowing that the lovely display was out again, spreading out warmth as well as the sweet, welcoming scent of Cherrywood.

‘Tony really outdoes himself.’ she thought to herself, gazing at the flames with fascination, watching the Amber-colored heat dance in mellow movements.

Though Stark might find improvement in the place, always running through the rest of the crew with new ideas, she thought the building in its entirety was just fine, perfect even.

She wasn't sure about everyone else, but that’s how she felt at least.

She felt that nothing needed to change as It felt like a true home, packed with people she loved.

Isn’t that what made home, well, home?

Love..?

As she swam in that thought, one particular man set himself off from the rest, just as he always did. 

Her (e/c) colored eyes peeked over to the said man to find him engrossed within the sight of the soothing fire, caught in thought, just as she had been a moment ago.

With sincere admittance, she'd have given anything to know what he was thinking, and what was much more, know if there was a part of his pondering that was about her.

The smile gracing his face as he watched the flames dance made her feel warm fuzz all over as she continued to observe him, the slightly dimmed lighting doing nothing but accenting the lovely edges of his features.

As if he wasn’t astonishingly handsome already.

“ looks real doesn’t it?” she commented, her voice sweet-sounding and soft as she airily spoke, making him turn his attention to her, snapping out of his light daze with her simple question.

 “I was just thinking that.” he said shaking his head. “ looks like someone lit a fire behind a glass window. And then the smell... it’s hard to believe it’s not real,” he added. “ Technology has gotten pretty crazy, I would have never imagined sitting down and warming up next to an imitation fireplace this realistic.” He admitted.

“I mean, yeah we had these, but not as convincing,” he explained.

“It's scary isn't it old man...” she said wiggling her fingers in front of him. “Technology is so scary,” she said adding tremor to her voice, continuing to giggle with glee as he stared at her flatly.

Raising an eyebrow at her with a teasing smirk growing, he waited for her to calm down more before speaking,

“ Oh...aren't you the one paranoid about that little movie?” he asked her, “ what was it...” he muttered to himself, humming, his right hand taking a light hold of his chin. “ Ah, Wall-e right? Robots are gonna take over the world and control it, right?” he asked her and she stopped laughing, piping down.

“ That was a kid's movie and you were paranoid about something like that, ” he said poking her cheek. “ So, I guess, technology is scary, ohhhh…” he said mimicking her earlier actions, taunting her with the same childish actions as she stared at him with a halfhearted glare.

“That wasn’t exactly it,” she told him.

Sure that little film gave her anxiety, but not for that very reason, 

“ Besides, if we're talking about that... I wasn't so far off…” she grumbled, referring to the incident with the ‘peacekeeper’ Ultron.

The entire ordeal had been a complete nightmare for her.

While, of course, Large, menacing, reptilian-like aliens would be something to fear, nothing really took the top off as much as psycho killer robots, but that was just her opinion.

She began to nibble on her left thumb’s nail as she recalled the event, all with a cold shiver.

“- Quit sucking your thumb,” Steve chided, chuckling as she instantly brought the entire hand down, her hand fisted to her side as she glared at him. 

“I wasn’t sucking on it!” she said with a short hiss as an exaggeration to the ‘s’ sound.

Ready to challenge her, Steve opened his mouth to speak, stopped by another masculine voice, 

“ Well, well, well, having fun alone you two?” Bucky said teasingly, finally catching the other two’s attention.

“Don't you two know how late it is?” he chided tisking, adding on a small chuckle.

His attention was trained over the counter as his back faced both (f/n) and Steve, not letting them see his true, troubled face.

“-Jealous?” Steve said raising a brow, quirking up a partial smile, mindlessly teasing his friend.

“Maybe…” Bucky huffed, “ I wasn't invited out after all.” Bucky replied bitterly.

“You know, my two friends decided to hang out without me.” he sighed, “ How could I not be?”

“ We were just out for a stroll,” (f/n) said rolling her eyes, “You're such a drama queen,” she added playfully.

In response, he hummed and turned around with two mugs of a hot beverage, pursing his lips as he looked off to the side, “I always have a comeback at hand,” he warned her, “ But being the grown-up here, I’ll keep them to myself,” he said while walking towards the two.

He then handed each of them their own cups, going back to retrieve his own.

Curious, she gazed down to see her kitty mug filled with hot cocoa, brimmed with small marshmallows.

With eagerness, she smelled the sweet aroma up close,

“ Oh, Hot cocoa ! “ she chirped joyously, giving the man a closed eye smile, absolutely joy-filled.

‘That’s what that smell was,’ She mused, 'It was right there,' She added, having been bothered by the fact that she couldn't name it off the bat, and by then feeling silly for not recognizing it.

Bucky’s smile broadened as he nodded while seeing her obvious excitement,

 “Yeah, I thought you guys would want some,” he told them. “ It's starting to get real chilly out there.” He pouted, not liking the cold.

He wasn't really a fan.

“Ohh, you even put the tiny marshmallows on it, “(f/n) muttered, “Whoa, A whole bunch of them,” she added with a grin, all while looking within the cup.

“Just how you like it, I remembered,” Bucky replied, watching her face bloom with happiness.

“Love you Buck, You’re the best,” she said looking up towards him in gratitude before she started to blow on her drink.

“ I only got two,” Steve said staring down at his hot chocolate, plainly glaring at it with a disappointed pout, because he couldn't help but feel robbed.

“There wasn't much to work with,” Bucky said shrugging, the words accompanied by a nervous laugh.

 “That’s all we had, I swear,” He added.

“Yeah, I bet,” Steve argued back flatly, “After you practically chucked the entire bag into (f/n)’s cup, you didn't have any left, right?” Steve replied with accusation.

(f/n)’s face heated up, taking a look at both cups with embarrassment.

“ I'm sorry Steve !” she said immediately. “ We can switch if you want,” she said frantically,

“Or I can just-”

Both men stared at her with amusement, Bucky being the first to laugh, shaking his head as he spoke,

“That’s cute,” he muttered.

“ Its alright doll, no need,” Steve said shaking his head. “I'm just teasing!” he exclaimed, calming her down. “Seriously,” he added.

 “ I wouldn't get so worked up over some marshmallows,” he assured her.

“And Besides, I know Bucky here made that especially for you,” he said smiling knowingly with a grin, denying taking any contents from the cup in her hands as he lifted up his free hand in a stopping motion.

“He likes to play favorites between the two of us. I’ve gotten used to it anyway,” he added.

“I’m sure he doesn’t,” (f/n) said sheepishly, not believing him.

“No, I do,” Barnes said with certainty, his upfront admittance making her keep her eyes down to her drink,

‘Oh Bucky,’ She thought with a smile, shaking her head at his response, not sure if he meant it, or said it just to be a tease.

After taking a sip, she looked back towards Bucky, her eyes full of gratitude and amusement,

“At least you made some for yourself, “ she said with relief to which he shook his head,

“Nah,” he replied, making her stop drinking.

“ You didn’t make some for yourself?" She asked him, and shaking his head again, he answered her, “Nah, but it's fine.” He said with a dismissive wave.

“But wait what’s that in your hand,” she asked, pointing her finger towards his cup.

“Water,” he replied, “ I only realized afterward that I only made enough for two, but again, it’s fine,” He assured her, putting it down on the closest surface to him.

“Oh Bucky,” she said sighing, walking closer to him and leaving Steve's side altogether.

She took one of his hands, the warm flesh one, raising it up to touch the steamy mug in her hand. She pressed it there beneath hers as she gave him a small smile. “ Here, “ she told him, her hold loosening to let him take hold of the drink.

“But It’s for you,” he reminded her, being quick to return it, doing the same as she had by holding her hand to the mug,

“Really,” he said sweetly, begging her with his eyes.

" Half and half ?" She suggested, not willing to let it go.

"That's the closest I'm getting to winning, huh?" He asked her with defeat, and nodding (f/n) agreed, "Pretty much," she said, having gone unbeaten up to date, getting the last say.

'Only because it's you.

Only because you're so sweet.

Only because I love you so damn much,' The dark-haired man thought with a soft smile.

Bucky caved, the three people enjoying the warm drink as they talked, letting the night take its course.

Next : Little Smooch

[lowkey-lokis-bitch]

grief is not as heavy as guilt - bucky.barnes

pairing - bucky barnes x reader

warnings - a few curse words, violence, making out, general sad lmao

word count - 3063

a/n - look who finally wrote again? bitches i’m backkk. also pls send requests so i can be inspired to write lmao

Power vibrated throughout your body. The team watched diligently as the purple sparks erupted from your fingertips. Don’t think about them, concentrate. You forced your eyes open to aim your energy towards the mannequins at the other end of the hall. You felt your feet begin to leave the floor, and though it might try, gravity had no chance of pulling you back down. You sped up and across the hall, a faint purple haze trailing your body. You spun quickly, before ploughing your fist into the first dummy, sending it flying and bouncing off of the glass walls. You heard a communal exclamation from the team behind you as you landed on the floor, which fuelled your desire to impress them even further.

The second figure didn’t stand a chance as you leapt and roundhouse kicked it, leaving it in two pieces on the floor. You didn’t even turn to look at the final dummy as you lifted your hand behind you and blasted it, sending it smashing through the wall, a subsequent streak of coloured electricity humming in the air.

“Oh yeah, don’t worry about that. I’ll pay for it,” Tony spoke, his voice loud enough for you to hear across the training hall. “Not like I pay for enough around here.” He trailed off before leaving the room, rubbing his forehead.

Your breathing began to slow as you regained your strength and stepped towards the remainder of the team. Sam looked at you with an impressed look plastered across his face, reaching out to give you a pat on the back as you passed him.

“Better every day kid,” he spoke, laughing as he turned to walk alongside you.

“Thanks Sam,” you said, looking up to give him a smile. Sam had become like an older brother to you during your time with the Avengers, there for you whenever you needed him. His intense sense of humour was highly useful during the dark nights, when the thoughts were too extreme to sleep. “You ready to take me on, yet?” “Damn, you know I’m getting too old for that. You need someone like Parker, or Bucky. I bet he could take you down with that metal hunk of junk,” he smirked, never dismissing an opportunity to give a dig in Bucky’s direction. You rolled your eyes in response, laughing quietly. Your relationship with Bucky wasn’t necessarily a secret, but you made a conscious effort to keep it separate from your work.

Taking a quick look around, you noticed that Bucky wasn’t in the training room. The team had split into two groups, with Steve, Nat, Wanda and Vision deep in discussion and Peter and Rhodey messing about with their suits. Tony had been locked in the lab for the past few days, so it was safe to assume that everyone’s equipment had received a serious upgrade.

“I think I’m gonna train a bit longer,” you stopped in your tracks, turning to face Sam. “But I’ll see you later? I think I’m gonna make pasta for dinner.”

“Ooh, you know I can’t miss your pasta,” Sam chuckled, his eyes crinkling. “Take it easy kid, you’ve worked hard today.” “Thanks,” you gave him a quick hug before jogging towards Steve. “Hey, can we spar?”

He wrung his hands, looking across at his teammates, “I think Wanda might be a better fit.” There was a long-running theory amongst the team regarding you and Wanda, and you were aware of some bets that were happening under the table concerning who would win in a battle between the two of you. Your powers shared a similar undertone, hers stemming from the Reality Stone and yours the Power Stone. You were already drowsy from your earlier training, but you knew that to keep up with the rest of the team you had to push yourself.

“You up for it?” you tilted your head towards Wanda, who seemed nervous yet confident.

“Sure,” the woman’s Sokovian accent bled through her speech. She had been training with Natasha to disguise her dialect for mission, but when she was with the team, she often fell back into her natural cadence.

You moved towards the centre of the room, stretching your arms and cracking your neck. Wanda shook her hands at her sides as she steadied herself across from you. You gave her a quick smile then turned to Steve, making sure that he was ready to pull you out if it got bad.

“Okay, rules. Play ‘til someone taps out. No extreme power usage, otherwise Tony will get pissed at us for breaking things.”

“Language,” Peter yelled out from behind Rhodey, fully using him as a shield if his joke went down badly.

Steve rolled his eyes before continuing, “If it gets out of hand, Rhodey and I are ready to step in. You good?”

I gave him a quick nod, Wanda doing the same. He held out his hands to gesture the start of the competition. You took a deep breath, your eyes focusing on Wandas. You thrust your hands out in front of you, a shield of purple streaks appearing between you and leapt into the sky. Wanda rocketed backwards, throwing her hands above her to raise segments of the floor into spikes. You swerved to avoid the stalagmites rising towards you and crashed to the floor, your fists pounding the concrete and sending out purple cracks. The rock around you crumbled and you could feel the power pulsating throughout your body. You could see the deep purple hue surrounding your body as you stood, then sprinted towards Wanda.

She met you on the ground, her eyes glowing a bright red and her fingertips sparking with flares. You threw a punch directed at her left shoulder, which she blocked and kicked at the back of your knee. You fell, but swung your feet to take her down with you. She landed on the floor with a thud, the air knocked out of her lungs. You stood quickly, preparinging yourself for a burst of energy, not noticing that Wanda had sent her hand towards you. You were thrown into the far wall with a flash and you tumbled to the floor. Whining, you lifted yourself onto your hands and knees and looked at the woman doing the same across the room.

You stood slowly, feeling the entirety of your strength flooding your body. Steve and Rhodey flashed each other a concerned look, before turning their gaze back to you. You didn’t care. All that you could focus on right now was the power coursing through your veins, and it needed an escape. You began to walk, before it became a run, and then you flew into the air at an increasing speed. Rhodey snapped his helmet on, having an idea of where this was heading. You weren’t in control of your own body at this point, you had no idea how to stop what was about to happen. This had almost happened once before, but Bucky had been there to help you, to talk you down from this place. He wasn’t here now.

You bulleted towards Wanda, screaming. Your hands were out in front of you, and you had one intent. Kill. You could see the fear in Wanda’s eyes as you got closer and closer, before Rhodey grabbed you around the waist, Steve grabbing Wanda. You flailed in his metallic grasp, desperate to release your power somehow. You flung your fists at his head, not feeling the pain as your knuckles ripped and became bloodier with every punch. You heard Rhodey grunting as he struggled to maintain his grip on you, and your power surged, further and further. Until it gave out.

Your left hand was warm, despite the rest of your body remaining at a normal temperature. You opened your eyes slowly, allowing them to adjust to the sudden light in the room. A figure was sat by your bedside, his hand overlapping yours. The dark mop of hair was comforting to you, and you moaned a greeting.

“Hey doll,” Bucky looked up at you, giving you a soft smile. “You’ve been out for a few hours. How are you feeling?”

“Not great to be honest,” your voice was croaky, and it was almost painful to speak. “I can’t remember anything, what happened?”

“Well, you were training with Wanda. She threw you, and you kinda freaked out,” he spoke slowly. “Rhodey grabbed you and you passed out. They brought you straight here.”

“Is Wanda okay?” your voice wobbled, concern present.

“Yeah, just a bit shaken. I’m more concerned about you.”

“Baby,” you mumbled, feeling awful about what had happened. “I don’t know what it was, it’s like I wasn’t in control.”

“I don’t blame you, you’d been training for hours. You need to take a break sometimes babe,” Bucky’s eyes met yours and you could see the emotion swirling in them.

“If I have any chance of being able to go on missions with the team, I need to learn to control it. My power can help us-”

“But not if you won’t help yourself.”

Your eyes fluttered shut as a tear dropped onto your cheek. Bucky brushed it away with a finger and placed a delicate kiss to your lips. You opened your eyes to meet his, and he gave you a soft smile before kissing you again. You put your hands around his neck, pulling him towards you so that he was lying next to you on the bed. You flipped slightly so that you were able to place your legs across his, almost straddling him. Your tongues moved in sync, dancing and exploring each others mouths. You stroked his face, his scruffy beard tickling your beaten knuckles. You winced slightly, causing Bucky to pull away before you pulled him in even closer.

His hands roamed your back, pulling your hips to meet his. It wasn’t often that you got time alone during the day, and by god he was going to make the most of it. Your feet moved under the covers, brushing his and bringing a further sense of closeness. Bucky lightly scratched your lower back with his metal hand, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine and making you smile into the kiss. You trailed your hand along his shoulder and placed your other palm flush against his chest. After a few moments, Bucky pulled away, his breathing ragged.

“I love you doll, so much.”

“I love you too.”

The New York skyline was glittering as you stepped into the evening air. The team was out on mission, but Steve had decided that you were to be used as back-up, thus leaving you with the quinjet, waiting for a call. You paced back and forward, hearing crackles through your earpiece. Bucky checked in with you every so often, but it had been a while since you had heard his voice.

“Nat, where are you?”

“You see, there are a lot of aliens so I’m trying to deal with those at the minute.”

“Yeah, well, look to your right. There’s a lot more coming.”

You looked up to the dark sky and saw an immense ship descending towards the city. Before it had even reached the floor, there were masses of creatures jumping out of the doors to attack the population.

“Guys, I’m coming in,” you tried to sound assertive, before Steve shot you down.

“No, (Y/N). It’s too dangerous.”

“I don’t care. I can help. I can stop this.” You levitated into the air, speeding towards the city at an incredible speed. You aimed for the ship, your fist out in front of you ready to strike. You shot through the flow of creatures, sending them flying. Bodies crumpled before you and you fired a blast from your fist into the crowd, killing hundreds of the slimy mutants.

“Baby, this is too dangerous.”

Bucky’s voice almost stopped you in your tracks, but you forced yourself to spin and throw an electric burst to the ship. It exploded into shards of metal, which rained down on the city, taking many of the creatures with it. You could feel the power rising again, and you knew this was going to end the same way it did when you were training. But you were their best chance at finishing this.

You turned and took off towards midtown Manhattan, leaving a purple haziness in your wake. You landed with a crash, sending sparks flying in a mile-wide radius. Creatures flew into the air, their bodies contorting and exploding. You glanced around and saw your teammates fighting off bodies, and being overrun by the sheer amount of them. You ran towards Clint and Natasha, doing a barrel roll into the horde of aliens drowning them. They flew, glowing purple before fizzling out. Your body began to glow a deep violet, your eyes the strongest, darkest shade. The sight caused the pair to take a step back before shouting quickly on their comms. You couldn’t hear anything other than the blood pulsing in your ears.

You flew into the air once again before focusing on Tony, Rhodey and Peter working together to take down a group of creatures. You shot towards them, hurling a ball of electricity into the crowd of aliens, leaving them disintegrated in piles of ash. Tony retracted his helmet to look up at you with concern, but you had already left, searching for the final 3.

Steve was fending off a gang of creatures with his shield, the constant ricochet of the vibranium weapon ringing in his ears. Sam was soaring above him, sending shots down and dropping various weapons into the masses of aliens. Bucky was close to Steve, sending bullet after bullet flying from the gun in his hand. You dove towards the faction of beasts, landing in a crouch. The concrete beneath you fractured and split, purple light weaving into the cracks. Every creature in the city flew into the air, erupting into a wave of purple flame. The power flowing through your veins didn’t cease, you felt it building and building. You glowed with a ferocity that had never been seen before.

Bucky stepped towards you, knowing he was the only chance at saving you from yourself. He dropped his gun and stood face to face with you. He searched your eyes for any sign of you, but all that he could find was the unlimited power coursing through your body. He reached his hand up to rest on your cheek, and a tear fell from your eye. You wished you could put your hand atop his, but you couldn’t control your body. It felt as though you were trapped in a shell, a shell that was hell-bent on destroying everything in its path.

“(Y/N)?” Bucky’s voice was soft, a sense of desperation clear.

You continued looking straight ahead, your breathing picking up. Your hands drew into fists at your sides, and your glow intensified. You wanted to warn Bucky, to tell him to move. But you couldn’t.

“I love you,” Bucky spoke, and you erupted.

Thud.       Bang.       Crash.

The dummy in front of you fell into pieces, and your fists ached from throwing punch after punch. Sweat dripped from your forehead as you looked at the ground, feeling as though you were going to throw up. Bucky had been asleep for 2 weeks, under constant supervision from Bruce and regular checks from Tony. You couldn’t bring yourself to see him, knowing that you put him there. Your lack of training had done that to him. Steve had become increasingly concerned about you, checking in with you a few times a day, until he couldn’t find you in your room. You were in the training hall. Always.

If you had trained harder, you would have been able to control it. Bucky would be okay, you would be happy together and everything would be okay. You cursed yourself once again before grabbing one of the multiple mannequins you had lined up along the wall. You placed three in various positions before steadying yourself at the opposite end of the wall. You breathed slowly, then sped towards them, your feet lifting from the ground. You plunged your fist deep into the first one, picking up the broken model and throwing it at the second. You leapt high into the air, summoning all of the power you could muster and aiming it towards the final mannequin. A blast shot through the air and split the dummy in two. You remained in the air for a moment before lowering yourself to the ground and shooting blasts across the room in pure frustration.

“Woah!” a voice called out from the door, and you spun quickly to see Bucky bruised and beaten, but alive.

“Oh my god,” you brought your hand to your mouth and tears pricked your eyes. You wanted nothing more than to sprint into his arms, but something made you hesitate. Guilt.

“Babe?” Bucky spoke again, walking slowly towards you. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” you blurted out, your voice cracking. You crumbled to the floor, partially from exhaustion but also from the sheer amount of regret for what had happened. “I’m so sorry.”

Bucky rushed to your side, cuddling you into him. You just rocked yourself and repeated your apology over and over again.

“Baby,” he spoke softly, a tear falling from his eye. “There is nothing to be sorry for. You saved all of our asses out there. You know that right?”

“But I almost killed you.”

“I’m still here. You didn’t think you were gonna get rid of me already, did you?” he smirked, but the underlying emotion remained on his face. “Why are you in here? You need to take a break doll.”

You tilted your head to look at him, tears streaming down your face, “You said it yourself. I saved you all, but if I’m gonna do it again I need to practise. How are they going to tru-”

“Screw them all,” his face turned serious. “Really. Fuck ‘em. I know this whole damn city thinks it needs you, but not as much as I do. Please. You need to look after yourself, if not for you, for me.”

Bucky pleading was enough to bring you to your knees, “I love you Bucky.”

“I love you too, doll.”

[schrijverr]

Professor Elric?

After The Promised Day Edward is sent on a miliary mission to Hogwarts where he will teach Alchemy to his students. He is told not to interfere with their business, but he has a hard time not getting involved with this weird Voldy prick.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none

Chapter 4 out of 10.

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“Nothing, there is absolutely nothing on Amestris.” Hermione sighed as she sat down at their table in the library.

“However, I did find some things on Alchemy.” she said as she put down several heavy books that shook the table, simultaneously waking and scaring the crap out of Ron.

“Well, what did you find?” Harry asked.

Hermione said: “What Colonel Elric told us about circles was not a lie, you can find it in any basic Alchemy book, but there is nothing about Alchemy without a circle. That means that he has either incredibly powerful wandless magic or he knows of an Alchemy so rare that it’s not even a footnote. What is also suspicious is that there is nothing about this human transmutation and nowhere in any of these books is Alchemy called a science, it’s referred to as magic everywhere.”

Ron let his head plonk on the table and groaned: “This year sucks. We need to worry about our O.W.Ls and if that wasn’t enough the Ministry has decided to stick in an inside man and on top of that there is a suspicious new teacher about a completely new subject, who also seems to hate magic, which is also strange.”

“Yeah.” Harry agreed, but Hermione frowned and asked: “What did you just say?”

Ron gave her a look and said: “That this year sucks?”

“No, I heard that.” she replied, “But what did you say about Colonel Elric hating magic? Why do you think that?”

Ron shrugged uncomfortably and said: “Well, he used witch as an insult and he doesn’t want his subject to be referred to as magic, so I just thought he must hate magic, you know.”

“Oh my god, Ron, that’s brilliant.” Hermione exclaimed, making Ron blush, “He was very strict about it not being magic, how didn’t I think of that?” she was silent for a moment, then she quietly asked: “But why would you want to teach at a magic school if you hate magic?”

~

Edward looked over his class, they were all decked out in work out clothes and they all looked like they rather be anywhere else. Good, he thought as he eyed them some more, here they would find out who was cut out for this.

“Okay everyone, I want you to find an empty spot and to repeat what I do. We’re going to start with a light warming up.” he yelled.

He himself had also changed out of his normal outfit, which consisted of a long brown coat and a black three piece suit without a suit jacket and with a white shirt and a pair of gloves. ((A/N: What he wears in FMAB when he asks Winry to marry him)) He was now wearing his uniform pants with his old combat boots and a long sleeved T-shirt, plus gloves of course.

He started with some basic exercises that everyone could follow, then he gave them a moment to rest before he ordered them to run laps around the classroom. That was met with a lot of protest, but when he simply replied that they could do it or leave and never come back, they started running.

He kept looking until most of them were on the brink of collapsing. He yelled that they could stop and gave them water to drink. He eyed them sadly and said: “Well, we have a lot of work to do, but I don’t think I can push you a lot more today, so when everyone has gathered his bearings we‘ll do some cooling down stretches.”

He only got a few groans and thumbs-ups in return, but he didn’t blame them. Once a minute had passed a boy groaned: “I hope you realize we’re not the army. I just want to get through school, man, and I can’t afford to drop this subject.”

Edward gave them a grin, he probably thought it was a fun grin, but he did not realize that his face was kind of scary, he had small scars everywhere and his eyes just turned creepy without his consent, so it just looked like he was planning to murder them all. He then said: “Well, then I suggest you toughen up and solve that riddle I gave you, because I’m not teaching kids who won’t be able to handle a transmutation.”

He ignored some of the heavy swallows that followed and started with the cooling down stretches when that was all done he sat down at his desk and said: “I know we’re basically done here, but I’m not allowed to let you go, so just sit down and catch your breath or something.”

Hermione decided that this was her chance to get some information out of her teacher, so she stuck up her hand. When Edward opened his eyes he saw her and nodded to signal it was okay to start talking. She asked: “Sir, I hope this doesn’t come across as rude, but I did some research on Alchemy in the library and I couldn’t find anything on Alchemy without a circle even though I heard that someone saw you do it.”

Edward silently cursed that kid in hallway and gave him a look, the boy coward a bit and he couldn’t help but let his gaze soften. The kid had blond hair and a soft face, he reminded him of Al. He then turned his attention back on Hermione and said: “That doesn’t surprise me. It is almost impossible to do, very rare. In the entirety of Amestris only five people can do it, including me.”

Curiosity took over and Hermione asked: “How did you learn to do it?”

A dark expression took over his face, he didn’t like to be reminded of his mistake, it didn’t matter that he’d set it right. His brother had suffered for years because of him, such a thing he couldn’t easily forget. That all didn’t mean that he was going to share it with a group of teenagers who didn’t know him, so he settled on saying: “I made a mistake and I paid dearly. I learned from it.”

Hermione was about to ask more about it, but before she could he cut her off: “If you ask me more about it I will not allow you back into my classroom, is that clear?”

She swallowed thickly and nodded. Then she said: “Sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to upset you, but would it be okay if I asked about something else?”

He wanted to tell her no and to shut up, but he found that he couldn’t. He himself had been in her place, he had done research and only found more questions, he hated when someone didn’t answer him just because, when they could’ve helped him. He wasn’t about to be that person, so with a bit pain he said: “Sure, go ahead.”

“Could you tell me a bit about Amestris, because it doesn’t exists in our library.” she asked.

Edward hadn’t expected that, but he didn’t mind talking about his homeland, no matter how shitty it had been. “Well, if it’s any help, England doesn’t exist in the whole of Amestris libraries and I should I know I’ve been in hundreds.” he said, “But Amestris is landlocked, it was founded in 1550 and it has about 50.000.000 people living in it. It is run by the military and the most powerful man is the Fuhrer, currently we have Fuhrer Grunman, before him we had Furhrer King Bradly. We are not as popular as a whole since we are quite prone to starting wars, but we have been making peace since the coup from last year.”

The gears in Hermiones head were turning as she tried to process all of this information. She asked: “If our countries don’t know each other, why are you here?”

He supposed that was a fair question that he couldn’t answered, so he told her: “Sorry, but that’s classified. You could ask Albus, see if he’s willing to answer. And would you look at the time, class is over. Dismissed.”

Everyone filled out of the room, Hermione looked like she wanted to stay behind, but Edward had already disappeared. She sighed and followed her classmates.

Once she was also walking away Edward watched her retreating back. She was one curious girl, intelligent, sure, but also curious, way too curious. He had to watch out for her questions, who knows why she wanted that information.

~

Edward was sitting in the teachers lounge. He hadn’t been all that social since he had arrived and he knew that was bad, Winry would scold him, she would get Al in on it too or Hawkeye, he smiled fondly at the image. So he had decided to go there for a change and talk to the other staff.

When he got there only two others were there, Umbridge and McGonagall. Since he already had a strong dislike of Umbridge since the dinner fiasco he decided to sit next to McGonagall. She raised one eyebrow at him when he did so. He explained: “I finally got a bit used to the castle and I realized how rude I’ve been, sorry. How has your first week been so far?”

That seemed to amuse her and she answered: “Pretty good so far, although there has been some unrest amongst the students with everything that happened last year.”

“Oh, yeah. I’ve been meaning to ask that. What exactly happened last year?” Edward asked.

McGonagall was about to open her mouth to answer when she was interrupted by her colleague. Umbridge said: “Someone lied last year and some papers decided to believe him before doing some looking themselves. They have changed their stand point, but some people just can’t let go.”

Edward gave her an unimpressed look and said: “You know that doesn’t clear anything up, like, at all.”

Next to him McGonagall snorted, Edward was really starting to like her. Umbridge herself gave him an offended look and she said: “Harry Potter claimed You-know-who is back, but he died a long time ago. He speaking utter nonsense.”

McGonagall came to this Harry Potter boys defense: “He saw him, Dolores. He was there when it happened, why would he lie? And it’s not just that or have you forgotten that a student died last year?”

“Whoa, wait a minute hold up.” Edward interrupted their argument, “Someone died last year? At school?”

“Yes, Cedric Diggory. He died during the Triwizard Tournament, but not on school grounds.” McGonagall said.

“What’s the Triwizard Tournament?” Edward asked.

“You really know nothing of this world, do you.” Umbridge said.

Edward shrugged: “That isn’t something new honestly. Before the letter we received at HQ from Albus we had never heard of England and thought wizardry was bullshit, so you can imagine the culture shock.”

Umbridge ignored most of what he had said in favor of saying: “So you really don’t know anything about You-know-who?”

“No!” he exclaimed, “Why do you keep thinking that? I’ve never heard of the guy and his name is super dumb, I don’t know him, he shouldn’t assume that I do. He’s not that big of deal.”

“Not that big of a deal?” McGonagall asked, “Maybe he never reached across the border, but he’s inflicted his fair share of terror here, he lead the Wizarding War.”

“Sorry, still don’t know him.” Edward said, “How was he beaten?”

“By Harry Potter, he’s fifth year here at Hogwarts. The Dark Lord tried to murder him as a baby, but the spell rebound and he was assumed dead.” McGonagall said.

“He was dead, not assumed.” Umbridge corrected.

McGonagall gave her a look, but before they could start arguing Edward said: “This dude failed in killing a baby? Do you know how weak babies are?”

“The spell rebound because Harry was protected.” McGonagall explained.

Edward shrugged: “He relies too much on magic. He could’ve just thrown the baby out of the window. He probably wouldn’t even know what do to when you point a gun at his face or when he finds a bomb in his house, he definitely would lose to someone with a sword and a bit of skill.”

Both were silent and just looked at him, he shuffled a bit and said: “What? Just pointing it out there.”

McGonagall sighed and said: “It’s okay. It just feels wrong to see someone so young think so easily of violence.”

Edward wanted to get so mad, he wanted to yell at them that he wasn’t a kid, hadn’t been for a long time. He had seen much worse, what was one death when you had seen someone try to wipe out an entire country in a day or the survivors of Ishval or the soldiers who hadn’t made it lying in the streets of Central? But he didn’t say any of those things, they didn’t need to know that. He just shrugged and said: “I’m an army man, can’t help it.”

Then he walked away, he had a class to teach and he had to get away from that room. Wizards were so dumb, just so dumb. They relied so much on Magic, because they didn’t have any people who couldn’t use it. If Amestris relied so much on Alchemy they never could’ve gotten where they were.

He rubbed his face again and went over the conversation again. He suddenly realized that McGonagall hadn’t talked about an army or a task force to beat this You-know-who just a baby. They had relied on a baby to beat this evil dude. God, what were they dumb, but it had given him something to look up in the library, the Wizarding War, interesting.

[my-one-love-is-music]

In the Heat of the Storm

Summary: Jason and Tim had competed with each other ever since they met at the academy. And that didn't stop, not even when they were chosen for a mission that would take them across the universe in a small ship and force them to share the space. They never expected to be on good terms with each other. Not ever. But when they end up in the middle of an asteroid cluster that threatens the integrity of their ship, they realize that not ever is a very long time to be on bad terms.

A/N: This fic was part of my 800 followers giveaway on Tumblr! I'm so excited to share this because roommates is always a great idea for a pairing, but when you throw together rival roommates and then add space to it all? Well, that sounds like a delicious pot of fic to me! I had a lot of fun writing this so I hope all of you enjoy it! Thanks @fatcatsarecats

Also on AO3!

“Are you done?” Tim huffed, knocking on the door to the single sleeping room of their ship. They were only two days travel--by the standard twenty-four-hour clock they still operated under--from their last resupply and they were already struggling to get along in the small space of their ship, not that they ever really got along with each other. It was just easier to manage when they could put the entirety of a resupply station between them.  

Jason wrenched open the door and scowled at him. “You know as well as I do these suits are a bitch to get in and out of. So, you can wait five damn minutes for me to change before you get all huffy.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Whatever. You just go monitor our tools and navigation equipment. We still have several days’ travel before our next survey. And we don’t need anything breaking because you decided to ignore it.”

Jason snorted and pushed past him. “We both know I was better at surveying at the academy. Don’t even start.”

“Yeah, and who’s going to have to fix the equipment if you break it?!” Tim shouted, stepping into the room to slam the door shut behind him. As much as he could slam the thin door they had in the ship.

He was just grateful that they were given two beds for the trip despite having to share a room. He was almost certain the designers of the ship had considered only having one bed since they were already trying to conserve as much energy for their intergalactic mission as possible.

Tim started undoing the zippers on his spacesuit and pushed it down his slim form until he could step out of it. He tossed it into the cleaning box and turned it on before he stepped into the small cleaning stall they were given.

The advancements in artificial gravity were a godsend and Tim had no idea how the earlier ages of astronauts managed it. Although, considering he’d been drafted for a three-year mission with the one person he couldn’t stand and he was always competing against, he supposed they both had their own difficulties when it came to space travel.

Tim sighed as the cleaning mist blew over him. He held his breath so he wouldn’t have to breathe too much of it in. He never got used to the smell, even after two months of suffering through it. He would’ve preferred an actual shower, but they couldn’t waste so much water on such luxuries.

He hoped at their next resupply location they’d have a day or two to recuperate. He wanted at least a hot shower and a soft bed to sleep in, but he would gladly kill a man for a steaming bath. He’d kill Jason for a bath actually. He smiled. Then he would have one less headache to deal with and could finish their mission on his own.

Tim sighed when the stall powered down, leaving him feeling as clean as he could without soap and water. He stepped out of it and pushed open the lid of their suit cleaner, folding his worn suit to stuff into the box where he kept the few belongings he could bring.

He grabbed his second suit and shook it out, pulling open the zipper and clasps before stepping into the legs.  He yanked the suit over his thighs, shimmying until he got his arms through the sleeves and the front zipped up.

Tim ran a hand through his hair and stretched his arms over his head, feeling his back pop in two places. He sighed and let himself relax before he turned to face the closed door to their room.

“Well here we go, I guess,” he grumbled pulling the door open to walk back to the front of the ship and get back to work.

Jason was running through the different systems from his seat and Tim sat in his chair, spinning to face the front windows of their ship. He pulled his monitor in front of him and got to work going through the logs from their recent sample collections, prepared to ignore Jason for the rest of the day and work in blissful silence.

~~

Tim wasn’t sure how long the beeping had been going on before he was pulled from his thoughts. He’d been focused on his work and when he glanced at the clock, noticed several hours had passed since he sat down to get to work.

“Did you break something?” Tim grumbled, not bothering to look at Jason. “I can’t believe I already have to fix something because you were being careless and couldn’t take care of our equipment.”

“Can you shut up for one minute, Tim?” Jason snapped, voice tight. “I didn’t break anything.”

Tim blinked and turned to look at Jason who was hunched over his monitor, looking grim, his face drawn.

“What’s going on?” Tim asked, quickly sobering at the realization something could be very wrong. As comfortable as they were with their ship and their mission, they were still in the depths of space and had little access to resources or help.

Jason typed in several commands and the screen on their front windows lit up, showing the radar surrounding their ship.

“We’ve got incoming.”

“What do you mean incoming?” Tim asked, sitting forward. “Are those…are those asteroids?!” He tried to comprehend the sheer amount of rock hurtling towards them. The only time he’d seen anything close to that was the asteroid belt in their own solar system, but that wasn’t moving to intercept their path at hundreds of miles an hour.

“Yeah, they’re moving faster than anything I’ve seen and they’re going to intercept our course in a matter of minutes.”

“Well, we have to do something. We have to get out of range and-”

“There’s nothing we can do,” Jason said, turning to face him. “We can’t get out of their path in time. Not with the speed they’re moving and how long it takes us to get our hyperdrive thrusters ready.”

Tim felt panic constrict his chest and fought to calm his breathing. “Well we have to…there must be something we can do? We have to protect the equipment and make sure none of it gets damaged. This ship is built for strength and speed. It has to be good enough to hold up against this and keep the samples safe.” Tim nodded to himself and shoved his monitor away, jumping to his feet.

“We can fix this,” he continued. “We can save our research, we just have to make sure it’s secure and it’s going to be fine. We’re going to be fine.”

“Tim, stop!” Jason said, grabbing his arm.

“What do you expect me to do?!” he cried, rounding on him. “This is our mission! This is what we set out to do!”

“We can’t worry about the stupid equipment and logs when our very lives are at risk!” Jason shouted back.

Tim’s chest heaved as he fought to get his breathing under control. The panic overtaking him clouded his mind and he fought to sort through the fog of it all.

“Come on,” Jason said, voice calmer. “We need to get our suits on.”

“You want to go out there?!”

Jason let out a tense breath. “No, you idiot. But if any of those asteroids rip through the side of our ship, we’re going to need to be prepared if we’re sucked into space.”

“Oh,” Tim said, blinking him. “Oh, right. Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.” He nodded several times but didn’t move from his spot.

Jason tugged on Tim’s arm, forcing his legs to stumble forward a step. He walked him over to where their suits were hanging up and pulled the slim suits from the rack.

“Can you put this on yourself?” Jason asked, voice gentle as he held Tim’s suit out to him.

Tim stared at it for a moment but took it in hand and pulled the zippers open. He stepped into it and pulled the material over his base layer. Jason did the same, dressing faster than Tim did.

Once they were safely inside the space suits, Jason handed Tim his helmet and put his own on his head. The helmet helped to muffle the beeping that offered terrifying background noise to everything they’d done that past couple minutes, but didn’t stop Tim’s heart from skipping in his chest when a new level of shrieking alarm sounded.

“Let’s go,” Jason said, tugging him to the back of their ship where their room was.

Jason hunkered down in the corner and pulled Tim against him, both of them ducking their heads as they braced for whatever impact would come.

Tim’s breathing was loud to his ears, the helmet amplifying the sound as he tried to ignore what was coming. Nothing happened for several minutes and Tim almost hope they wouldn’t be hit at all and they’d be missed by all of the asteroids, leaving them by some miracle in one piece.

The ship jolted, Tim and Jason thrown against the wall as the first asteroid impacted the ship, the screeching of metal joining the blaring alarms.

“Shit,” Jason breathed, the curse coming through clear as day over the radios in their helmet.

The next two impacts came in quick succession, landing squarely on the side of the ship.

Bambam.

Tim curled closer in on himself, trying to control the shaking that was already taking over his limbs. He hoped his suit was thick enough Jason couldn’t feel it. He didn’t need him having any blackmail on him if they survived.

Bam!

Tim jumped and Jason tightened his hold on him. He let out a shaky breath, not caring if Jason thought he was weak for being scared. Not anymore. Not when they might not make it out of this alive. Not when there was the threat of thousands of pounds of space rock flattening them.

The next asteroid hit the front of the ship and Tim felt them veer off course, spinning wildly until another rock hit their rapidly moving ship, forcing them to the side.

Tim whimpered, the shaking in his limbs getting worse as his uncertainty and fear grew. He could hear more alarms and warning sounds as their ship took more damage.

Jason pulled him closer, keeping his grip tight even as his tense breathing gave away his own fear and anxiety.

The cacophony of asteroids hitting the side of the ship melted together, the sounds less discernable as Tim fought to block them out. Tim wasn't sure how long they stayed huddled together wishing the seconds and minutes by faster. More than once he was certain they'd been killed, sucked into the cold, dark of space, never to finish the mission they'd been tasked with. But another impact brought him back to himself and he knew if they had died and succumbed to whatever fate space had in store for them, he was sure the nightmare would've ended, putting them out of their misery once and for all.

The seconds stretched on between them after one frightfully loud sound of rock grating and smashing against metal reverberated through the walls. Tim's breath was shallow and shaky. He felt lightheaded and was trying to make sense of how long it had been as he waited for the next hit to come. He waited for the final blow that would pierce the metal of the ship and suck them into space, leaving them at the mercy of the rest of the asteroids and with no ship to call for help.

Nothing came and as their ship settled and groaned Jason slowly relaxed, his hold loosening around Tim. Neither of them found the strength to break the silence or move much more than they had. Tim's mind still raced, trying to make sense of what they'd just survived and if he really had just been stuck in the middle of an asteroid storm or if he was about to wake up in his small twin-sized bed and everything was as fine as could be.

They could've died. So many things could've gone wrong, but as far as they knew, where they'd tucked themselves away in a corner, they were alive, and their ship was mostly whole or just whole enough to still keep them safe.

Tim let out a slow breath. Jason had held him through the experience, too. He wasn't sure what, if anything, this would change between them, but it was something new, and not entirely unwelcome. He wasn’t sure how many other people would've willingly held him during an asteroid storm and redirected his attention to what was really important when they were at just as much of a risk of dying.

"We should..." Tim trailed off, his voice loud in the silence. It was almost wrong to break the silence in such a way, but it had to be done. It was time for them to move on. They couldn’t stay tucked away forever. "We should check the status of the ship. I'm sure there's a number of repairs that need to be done and if we don't have all the materials to make them ourselves, we'll have to send out a distress beacon."

"Yeah," Jason agreed, sounding a little distant.

"Okay," Tim said. He nodded to himself, trying to work up the courage to pull out of Jason's grip and the feeling of safety wrapped around him, like if Jason kept holding him nothing would ever be able to hurt him again. He nodded again. "Okay."

He turned in Jason's hold and fought to get his feet underneath him. He braced a hand on the wall and stood, Jason's hands going to his waist to keep him upright as his legs wobbled.

Tim didn't make any snide comment, letting Jason support him as he collected himself yet again. He glanced over his shoulder and nodded at Jason when he was steady.

Jason's hands fell away almost reluctantly, and Tim moved towards the door, listening as Jason forced himself to his feet and groaned, the blood flow returning to his legs after spending so long in one position.

Tim was pleased their artificial gravity had survived the asteroid storm. He walked to the front of the ship, pushing all thoughts of Jason holding him from his mind. He had more important things to do now. Things that would continue to keep them safe now that the original threat had passed.

The monitors at the front of the ship were covered with flashing red lights, highlighting different areas of the ship. Two of their engines were compromised. Flying would be difficult, but not impossible or dangerous as long as they didn't try to push the ship to insane speeds or use the hyperdrive.

One of the oxygen tanks was damaged. The remaining one was mostly operational and would be enough to keep them alive as long as they both didn't try to run a marathon inside the ship, not that they’d have the space for it anyway.

The tanks holding the samples were remarkably unscathed and Tim let out a relieved sigh, some of the weight lifted off his chest. All of their research was safe. They weren't going to lose anything. Their journey hadn't been pointless. It was all going to be okay.

"We'll have to stop for some parts to make repairs happen, but we should be fine to fly," Tim said when he heard Jason come up behind him.

"And the samples?" Jason asked, the words muffled through Tim's helmet.

Tim turned and found him without his helmet on. He pulled his own off and tossed it into his chair, offering Jason a smile. "They're all intact. Nothing was damaged. Amazingly."

Jason smiled. "See? I told you it was going to be okay."

"Do you know where the nearest port is? We should map out our journey and figure out how long it's going to take to get there since we won't be operating on full power."

"We can do that later, Tim," Jason huffed.

Tim shook his head and started typing, clearing away the warning lights from the screen. "We should really focus on this now. It's going to take time to get to a port and more time to get all the damage catalogued and repaired."

"Don't be stupid. I know you already have everything catalogued in that head of yours," Jason said.

"Jason, I'm serious. I-" Tim stopped short when strong fingers wrapped around his bicep and pulled him from the computer. He slammed against Jason's chest, eyes going wide as his face smashed against the front of Jason’s suit.

Jason's arms wound around his back, holding him tightly, almost as tightly as he had during the worst of the storm. Jason bowed over him, nearly wrapping around him in a tight hug.

Tim let out a slow breath and closed his eyes. He felt the last of the tension he'd been holding in seep out of his muscles and his mind quieted. He wrapped his arms around Jason's back, letting himself relax into the hug as he fought to dig his fingers into the unforgiving material of Jason’s spacesuit through his gloves.

This was good. This was okay. He still didn't know what was going on, but he didn't think it was bad. He actually kind of liked it. And maybe...maybe he could get used to having Jason around like this. Maybe they didn't have to constantly bicker and fight while they were around each other.

Maybe they could have something like this where things were more than a little okay and Jason held him when things got bad. Because they were in the middle of the universe and really only had each other to count on when things got bad.

If you enjoy my work, please reblog or consider buying me a ko-fi!

[oliverwxod]

Call out my name (Bucky Barnes)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings; Implied sex , swearing, injury

Request: you both had a one night stand but avoid each other afterwards even though you're in love with each other. During one battle you save him and get hurt badly. He stays with you till you wake up. (Italics are flash backs, normal writing will be present time)

A/N: THANK YOU ALL for the note and comments recently! I’ve literally gained so many new followers and i’m so thankful for every single one of you who reads anything I write! It all means a lot to me and I really appreciate your messages and request! 

Last but not least the happiest of birthdays to the amazingly beautiful @tieddown-withbattleshipchains hope you have the loveliest of days! and hope this imagine lives up to your request :) xx

Masterlist

“Bucky-” 

“come on doll... tell me what you need” he spoke, his breath hitting behind her ear as he tried his hardest to hold himself back for as long as possible, which was turning out to be very difficult, he could feel himself slowly losing control.

“Need you to go faster... fuck me until I can’t walk, I need it...”

“hmmm...” he moaned against her skin, letting out a small laugh “Didn’t know you had that in you doll” he spoke, fingers tracing the sides of her body, his touch lighting her skin on fire and her back arching off he bed and further into him. 

“Please Buck, I need it ... I just need you”  she cried, bucking her hips upwards to meet his thrusts. He couldn’t hold back now, both hands roughly grabbing onto her hips and slamming down into her. 

“Bucky” Steve called, throwing him his shield, the soldier caught it easily, bringing it down to the ground to slam into the face of a HYDRA agent, breaking the mans jaw and leaving him limp on the ground. Bucky easily threw it back to Steve. 

“Guys I need back up” both super soldiers heard the voice of Y/n through their ear pieces; both of their eyes meeting in panic before setting off to find the girl. 

“like right now” she spoke, voice trembling slightly. They could hear the impact of a gun to the back of someone heads, a loud grunt and a thud on a metal floor that echoed. “shit” they heard her mumble under her breath. 

Bucky was worried, he was frantically searching around trying to spot her, knowing she had made it inside of the base while himself and Steve were still outside the main entrance. 

“shit doll, where are you?” Bucky spoke hurriedly, he didn’t care what he gave away in that moment, how desperate he sounded to find her.

“second floor, can’t miss me. I’m the one surrounded by at least 10 agents” she spoke, trying to crack a joke, but he could detect the panic in her own voice, knowing her as well as he did. 

“shit, shit, shit... hang in there.... please” he mumbled while running as fast as he could down a corridor in search of stairs. Steve had gone the opposite direction to him in search of the same thing. 

“How are you holding up Y/n?” Steve’s voice sounded through the ear piece. He seemed worried himself which did nothing to help Bucky’s sky rocketing nerves. 

“I’m holding as many off as I can but they’re all so much bigger than me and have tons more weapons” she spoke sounding out of breath. A shout sounded and the ringing of a heavey duty gun could be heard, crackling through the ear piece and echoing through the walls of the compound. Both super soldiers followed the sound.

“fuck” they heard her cry out in pain, a small whimper being heard through the ear piece. Bucky’s heart stopped momentarily, dread coursing through his entirety. 

“Mother fucker” they heard Y/n mumble. 

“d-doll?” Bucky’s voice sounded hesitant and scared. 

“yeah?” she replied, her voice quiet which made him worry even more. 

“hold on, we will be there in a second” Bucky said.

“Promise?” she asked sounding drowsy.

“I promise you doll” 

“oh fuck- do that again-” she whimpered at the new angle, Bucky flipping her over so she was now sat on top of him, hands wrapped around his neck as she moved her hips down to meet his thrusts more easily. 

He thrust up harshly, watching her face scrunch up in pleasure, burying her head in the side of his neck as he carried on his movements. 

Bucky had always imagined her like this in his dreams, on top of him, underneath him. None of them compared to the real life experience. He had longed after her ever since they met and now he finally had her in his bed; he wasn’t planning on letting her get away now. 

“why have we never done this before” she spoke, gasping into his shoulder as she clung onto him tighter as he sped up his pace both of them close to finishing.

“always wanted this” he spoke, meeting her eyes. “ always wanted you” he said, one of his hands resting on her cheek.

Bucky’s eyes widened as he reached the second floor seeing Y/n lying on the floor in a pool of her own blood. 

“Please” he heard her speak, an agent standing above her body “no..” she whispered.

Bucky was frozen in shock. A shot rang out followed by a second one. 

The agent had shot her a second time; the agent also on the floor beside her. Bucky looked around confused before his eyes landed on Steve, his gun cocked towards the agent on the floor. 

Within seconds Bucky’s brain kicked in again and he rushed over to Y/n’s body, falling onto his knees as soon as he was feet away from her, his hands reaching her body to check where she had been shot. 

The lower abdomen and a few inches from her heart.

“fuck” he cursed, picking her up as carefully as he could. 

Steve took lead on the way back to the jet, making sure the coast was clear. They abandoned the mission immediately, putting Y/n’s health before anything. 

Bucky woke up to an empty bed. 

He checked his bathroom and his living area, not finding any sight of Y/n or any sign that she had been with him that night. She had removed herself completely from his quarters and it hurt Bucky more than he wanted to admit. 

He spent the next few hours plucking up the courage to leave his room; telling himself he would be okay; that Y/n only left because she was hungry or had plans; because surely after a night as intimate as theirs wouldn’t just have been a one night stand.

He stayed by her side the entire time she was out. The ride in the jet; he was by her side. 

When she was rushed to the emergency medical wing in the Avengers tower; he was by her side. 

When she was in a coma for a week; he was by her side.

And when she woke up; he was there. The first thing she saw. 

Bucky had watched as her eyes started fluttering and her hands started to twitch. He leaned closer to watch as she woke up, looking confused; he knew she was about to panic so he took her hand in his as gently as he could. 

Y/n’s eyes snapped towards him in panic, relaxing seconds later when she recognized it was him. 

“you were shot twice doll” he spoke “you’re in the medical wing in the tower”.

She nodded gently so she wouldn’t move her body; she could feel the slight pain in her abdomen and it hurt to take big breaths of air. 

The weeks after they had slept together they spoke less and less; always avoiding being in the same room as each other. It was awkward whenever they spoke, seeming forced. Neither one of them really knew what to say.

Both of them thinking the other wasn’t interest in anything more than a one night stand. 

They avoided each other except for when they had to communicate on missions.

“thanks for being here for me; through all the recovery and everything” Y/n spoke, while she sat next to Bucky at the breakfast bar in the Avengers common room. “I know things weren’t exactly normal between us because of you know... that night” she spoke, her cheeks heating up as she refused to face him. 

“i’ll always be here when you need me” he spoke “even if things were... odd before” 

“yeah, we uh, never really spoke about what happened” she said deciding it was probably time to have the talk. 

“yeah; I didn’t know how to really approach it, but i’ve had all the time in the world to figure out exactly what I want to say” Bucky said, knowing he needed to tell her. If anything like this were to happen again he would never forgive himself for not telling her. 

“o-okay- go ahead” she encouraged him, smiling softly at him. He took one of her hands in his, rubbing his thumb over the skin on the back where a faded bruise from the IV had been taken out. 

“there’s no way to really say it except for me to out right say it- sorry i’m rambling a little; what I wanted to say was that I love you... a lot... and I can’t lose you- my mind has been all over the place since the mission and I just needed you to know” he said, looking at her expectantly, wishing for her to say something quickly.

“I thought after that night you would have wanted me to leave- so I left... If I had known, I would have stayed” she said chuckling. 

“what do you mean?” he asked, meeting her smile, figuring out what she meant but needing to hear her actually say it. 

“oh come on... you know what I mean!” she laughed. Bucky shrugged, acting confused. She glared at him playfully before speaking. 

“I love you too” 

[whatscallion]

preggo drabble.

// - i do write fluff. fluff is fun. so i wrote this fluff as a gift ( surprise but not really bc i love this person ) to @cptsteven​ . let’s be real, most of my drabbles are gifts. or responses to prompts. ANYWAYS. enjoy some romanogers. i know i do. c:

Moments spanned across, stretching from the instant to the hour. Realization held the broad spectrum of every conceivable emotion a mind could have, belittling the more extravagant with nothing more than the candid nature of love. A realization steeped heavily in revelation to bring about a single slide in time to encapsulate the impossible. In the entirety of the universe, miracles were few and far between, chancing a glimpse at the spotlight many feigned witness to. Time and time again, these were fleeting morsels of the improbable, often spoken of in the same sentence as divine intervention and the like. But such words were lost from the mouth of one born of stoicism, for there was a heavy belief a miracle would fall short of something never savored.

It had never been stated before, this impossibility and how it would last. But as with most things precious and tentative, a secret was made in order to maintain some decorum without the possible shattering of hope. It was the last thing anyone needed in this time of perceived strife, to know something far more delicate hung in the balance. The less people knew, the less they were inclined to become heartbroken should the inevitable happen. Or rather, what was believed to be inevitable.

And so, a harborer of secrets took one more to weigh upon her shoulders, self-inflicted and tightly held to her heart. While most of what she kept within the darkness resided there a thousand lifetimes over, this would only need to remain so for three months. The defected Soviet could handle three months, surely. Far worse and far more tempting had been endured for longer periods of time. Perhaps on those missions taken over the duration she was a bit more careful, more conscious of what was at stake. No longer throwing herself into the path of gunfire, but seeking refuge despite the slower success rate of objectives achieved.

“It’s nothing,” she said when questioned by those close to the pair. “Just feeling a little mortal these days.”

Most bought it, having heard those words spoken by her before when mentality was shaken by something she cared not to share. It was pertinent to remain elusive despite the prying eyes, concern painting the features of her teammates as well as Steve’s own. He was perhaps the most keen to the nuances that surrounded her being. In light of the walls she’d allowed him past, whole new dimensions had opened up, revealing an entire different person hidden beneath the Black Widow persona, and he chose to love the entirety of her. Natasha, Natalia, Black Widow - every face she wore to hide behind, he accepted and adored regardless.

It was fear that kept words from being voiced. Not fear of his reaction - she knew very well how he’d react - but it was the fear of something taking truth from the words and bolstering her image to being a liar once again.

For three months, not a word was said. Restaurants were pinned with food poisoning to mask the nausea in the early morning hours, and general laziness for the lack of energy. Excuse were made topical, easily smoothed over in the advantage taken over trust. Guilt etched into her backbone, but it remained justified as assumed inevitability held her hostage of pessimism. It was a reliance upon past behaviors that kept her hidden in plain sight, all peculiarities presented with offered excuses with false credentials.

It would be difficult to keep a secret much longer, she found, since there’d be an undeniable growth at the front of her. There’d be no excuse for it save the truth, and in that precarious time of fragile weeks, everything seemed to be going accordingly. A private practitioner had been utilized for the bare minimum of checkups, careful to remain as anonymous as possible, both to him and those who tended to follow here every move. Caution held her secret tightly, but like with most things, the time had come.

The idea of saying something hit her in the middle of a sparring session, as grins turned wicked in their playful training. Hits weren’t nearly as hard, but the techniques were fluid yet rigid all the same. Having claimed long ago he couldn’t dance, Natasha often noted his rhythm resided in his violence. This stubborn idea stuck with her, serving as a distraction to unceremoniously land her flat on her back against the worn mats. An apology was immediately doled out from the Good Captain, hand extended in an offer to help her stand, which she naturally took. It was unlike her to give the upperhand so easily, especially to him, and it was questioned in small, three worded questions as they made their way throughout the day.

This idea became more a problem than a distraction as the hours ticked on, burning a wildfire along synapses and bringing every thought to swirl around it. Every part of her should be excited to tell him the miracle they had both unknowingly created, but something held her back. Instability perhaps, was her driving reason behind secrecy, but even then, her lack of focus drew something born of concern from the patriot.

“Nat, are you okay?” It’d been in the car as she sat behind the steering wheel, waiting for the light to change from ruby to emerald. They often traded days for driving - Natasha with her sleek car and Steve with his almost too fitting motorcycle. She’d been staring intently at the light, lost in the unheard buzzing of lights, but it was his voice that snapped her back to the present.

“Hm? Oh. Yeah, I’m fine. I just have something on my mind.” Half-truths paved the way for putting off the future blame of lying, but it was simply second nature by now.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” she answered almost too quickly. She needn’t glance in his direction to know that worry painted eyes of the purest crystal. So, she offered a pleasant smile, as if that would tide him over. “Not yet, pretty boy.”

The drive was in relative silence, the quiet melody of the radio turned almost all the way down filled the awkward space between them. His fear and worry nearly outgrew the car though, stifling any clear thought processes on her end. If anything, she should tell him just for his sake.

He won’t be made, she told herself. He’ll stutter and smile too wide and hug you and everything will feel perfect.

Natasha parked the car, slipping out without glancing back at him. Every action was being put beneath a microscope, theories running abound within that star spangled mind of his, yet she could do so little to dissuade him of what he was assuming already.

What are you so afraid of?

Nothing remains perfect, she answered herself. This will get taken from me, from us, just as everything else has.

But he hasn’t been taken from you.

Not yet.

Together they moved to his apartment, him half a step behind her. It was almost too easy to feel his gaze burning at the back of her head, but like with most things, Natasha refused to acknowledge it, even as she opened the door for them. The familiarity of this place - long ago earning the title of “home” - should have quelled shaking nerves, but it barely touched upon them.

“Nat, can you talk to me?” In more ways than one, she was cornered. “Please? Come on.”

The Soviet finally relented, nodding somewhat.

“You’re gonna wanna sit for this talk.” In the back of her mind, Natasha knew that could’ve been worded better, especially as she saw the color drain from his face as he obediently took a seat at the table, chair turned out so he could face her properly.

“You’re not leaving me, are you?” The veil of humor was a pitiful attempt at hiding a very real fear beneath. Steve had certainly gotten better at lying, but there was no fooling a woman who was deemed a professional liar.

“No,” she answered abruptly, cursing a default mode to be cold as the Motherland in times of duress. In an attempt to alleviate the ambiguity, she offered an olive branch.  “We’ve already established that you’re stuck with me. It’s even on paper now.”

It didn’t do much to make him feel better, and it was easy to see.

“Then what is it? What’s going on, Nat?”

What was only five seconds felt like five turns around the sun, time slowing to an almost standstill as she grasped for the right words to be offered. After gnawing on the inside of her cheek, crossing her arms and leaning against the kitchen counter, the truth could only make itself known in the usual hidden manner.

“You’re gonna be a dad, Steve.” A menagerie of possibilities flipped through his mind, and she could see him try to figure out the actual meaning behind those words.

“Did you legally adopt Parker? We’ve gone over this. He’s too old to adopt.” Immediately, Natalia rolled her eyes since that had obviously been a joke at the time she’d initially started introducing Spider-Man as her son.

“Steve, no. That’s not-...Steve, I’m telling you I’m pregnant.” Every inch of her being willed him to not ask if it was his, and thankfully, he received the message. In the dawning of realization upon his features, she watched the universe unfurl in his eyes, and something so beautiful blossomed that could never be captured on canvas or stone.

“You’re-...wait, but how? You’re pregnant?”

“You’re guess is as good as mine, pretty boy. I guess you’re a super soldier...everywhere.” The pitiful joke bounced off him as if she hadn’t said anything at all. Instead, he stood, his towering height seeming to be tenfold as he took slow steps to her. There was no reason to move away from him. There’d never been a reason for a step back.

“You’re...pregnant,” he finally stated, looking down between them as fingers gingerly moved over her navel, and all she could do was watch him with a sentimental sort of amusement. “Oh my god, Nat.”

And there was the excitement she was waiting for.

“Nat! You’re pregnant! I’m going to be a father!” In one smooth motion, he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her almost too easily off the ground, leaving her wrap her arms around his neck, just as he buried his face in her own. Through the curls of crimson, she swore she could feel the searing tears of joy she’d rarely paid witness to, let alone felt on her own.

“You’re going to be a dad, Steve,” she murmured against his neck. His grip on her wasn’t too tight, nor was it too light. In his arms, she felt the same security she had always felt. In his arms, she felt the weight of the world lift from her shoulders and the once elusive happiness now flooded in once more, all because of him.

[brownjet-archive]

Cheeky

Pairing: Legolas x (f)Reader  (SORRY!!!)

Summary: Legolas decided to be a little cheeky ;)

Word Count: 1,500+

A/N: Yeah, so it’s super short cause it seemed to end well and I’ve been working on this since I was like 12 and idk how to continue, so here ya go. Okay, so I always see super fluffy Legolas fics, but no, he’s a sassy little ass, so here, have some sassy little Legolas

Warnings: Everyone has a fucking ugly laugh, man. Also,,,,,,lots of swearing

Masterlist

Traveling with the fellowship, albeit terribly enjoyable (despite the intentions behind everything) was still awfully annoying. Especially when it meant that you were surrounded completely by men. You had no problem with it, it’s just that after awhile it became very emotionally taxing. Especially when it meant that there was only time for one group of people to bathe, more often than not, that being everyone else, because they drastically outnumbered you.

It also didn’t help that your sole focus on this mission was being the medic. It was the only way you could volunteer yourself, not having any particular amazing heritage or incredibly valuable skill set. Not to say that you weren’t a good fighter, no. You were definitely amazing in combat, being more agile and nimble than the rest (except for a certain Elf prince), despite the fact that outside of combat, you have the tendency to trip on air. They all knew what an asset you were, although it often slipped their minds that such a quiet and meek-ish human was essential to their journey, often taking you for granted.

But no more. You had a plan. Which, now thinking about it, probably wasn’t gonna work. You let out an audible sigh at the realization of how unrealistic your plan was, and that you had bigger things to worry about.

Only Sam seemed to have heard you, running slightly, to catch up to you, offering you a look of sympathy. Sam Gamgee and you understood each other, both being seen as the weak links, despite the both of you knowing that the well-being of the Fellowship rested on the both of your shoulders.

“What’sa matter?” He asked, slightly panting, despite all the travel, still not completely comfortable with the amount of trekking the group of you seemed to do.

“Sick ‘n tired of not bein’ taken seriously.” You muttered, your words slightly slurred from exhaustion and over-exertion.

He gave you a small smile, his eyes full of sympathy. “Believe me, I understand completely.” He said, with his cute little hobbit accent poking through.

You returned his smile, resting your arm on his shoulder. “I keep telling ya, Samwise Gamgee, that the two of us needa get drunk once, together.” You said jokingly, boisterous laughs escaping from the both of you, only replaced by wheezing as you continued your trek up the steep slope, lingering slightly behind Gilmi and Legolas, both of who were bickering, as usual.

The two of you continued up in silence, being with the only person who truly understood you. You straightened your back slightly, your back protesting slightly in pain from the weight it caused to move your backpack from your back to your shoulders, though you ignored it, looking up for a clearing of the rocky terrain where the lot of you could hopefully rest for the night. You caught sight of a clearing, about another hundred or so feet up, your back instantly hunching over to accommodate the weight of your backpack.

“Legolas.” You wheezed out slightly, unsure of if the elf would hear you, though he surprisingly turned around, looking at you with unsure eyes, which seemed to pierce deep throughout your soul.

Not wanting to deal with the oddly intimidating stare of your companion, you motioned with your head, towards the slight clearing, his eyes looking over to where you had motioned, before giving you a curt nod, motioning the clearing to Aragorn, who was loitering in the back with the remaining hobbits.

Legolas and Gilmi, who had been in front of you, were currently running up the steepening slope, Legolas reaching the top in mere moments, his shorter and stouter companion, wheezing slightly and muttering curses under his breath at the prince.

Grumbling angrily, you followed behind them, muttering darkly about the damn showoff of an elf. You knew that it would take you a bit longer to reach the top, about five minutes or so, and seeing the blonde elf grin down at you cockily made you even more frustrated, mumbling many swears, not remembering that Sam was beside you, who now looked very concerned for you, but decided not to question it.

It seemed that your anger and grit had slowed you down, the rest of the fellowship passing you, to your dismay on your way up. Grumbling at them each, you continued, dumping your pack on the ground as soon as you had made it to the clearing, glaring at them all, amused looks on all of their faces.

“What seems to be the problem, Miss (Y/N)?” Gandalf asked rather kindly.

“You’re all bloody stupid! And fucking annoying!” You snapped at him, feeling instantly bad, and apologizing profusely to the wizard.

“What did we do that was so bad?” Sam asked, his eyes wide, and looking full of hurt.

Your heart seemed to crush at his pitiful look, your anger evaporating. “No, not you, Sam. You’re an angel.” You said rather truthfully, wanting to hug him, always seeing him as a younger brother, despite him being a few decades older than you.

“And I suppose the rest of us are as bad as the Orcs.” Legolas said, his voice challenging and calculated as always, though sounding a bit boisterous.

“I’d rather take on an army of orcs than deal with you right now.” You spat out, glaring at him, his stupid smirk unwavering.  

“You couldn’t take on an army of orcs by yourself.” He said, stating it simply, as if it were fact.

You gasped audibly, rage taking over, and instinctively, you grabbed for your dagger, tucked away in your boot, bringing it up to rest at the base of his throat in one smooth and swift motion, the stupid elf not even flinching.

“I’ll have you know that I am very capable, Mister Prince Elf of Mirkwood.” You spat out, your face contorted in anger. You removed your dagger from his throat, placing it back in its sheath, hidden in your boot.

“I never said I doubted you, Miss (Y/N).” He said, mockingly, repeating Gandalf’s words.

"You're infuriating!" You screeched, ready to launch yourself onto him and punch him in his stupidly perfect face. Feeling red hot fury flow through your veins, your hands forming unnaturally tight fists, your knuckles turning white, little angry crescent marks etching themselves onto your palms, your entire body visibly shaking with anger.

You turned away from his infuriating smirk, trying to regain control of your emotions, hearing his amused little chortle. You took a deep breath in, trying to ignore him. “Let’s just make the stupid camp.” You said, your emotions doing a complete 180, exasperation and exhaustion returning to your body like old, unwanted friends.

Ignoring your companions, you tended to setting up the campfire, to provide some warmth and maybe cooked food. Oh, it had been so long since you had warm food. Or just food in general. You had grabbed some firewood, and had set up the small little fire pit, all of this managing to help you calm down.  

The entirety of the makeshift camp had been set up in a few minutes, the fire pit being no exception. However, you started to feel annoyance build up after five minutes of attempting to start a fire, earning a snicker from one of your comrades, practically feeling his eyes on the back of your neck.

“You’re going to have to learn how to set a fire properly.” Legolas said from behind you, standing on a boulder, his eyes dancing with amusement, his voice laced with amusement.

“Oh, and why is that?” You asked, annoyed and frustrated, looking up from your lack of fire, your eyes cold and hard.

“Because how can you be expected to be betrothed to an elf and not know how to start a proper fire?” He asked knowingly, his words dripping with cockiness.

You stared at him for a few minutes, utterly confused and positive that he had rattled something loose with all the happy running he did, before the gears in your brain started to move, saying the most intelligible thing that came to mind, “Hah?”

A smirk made its way onto his face, before he leaned down, bringing his face dangerously close to yours. “You like me.” He said, rather cheekily, before standing up to full height, smirking as you spluttered, trying to find an appropriate response for what had just happened.

Feeling even more confused, you opened your mouth and closed it, gaping at him, before you tilted your head to the side, repeating your same confusion from earlier. “Hah?”

You like him!? The idea was preposterous!

“You like him.” You heard Boromir say, obviously uninterested, from where he was perched on a rock, not looking up.

You turned to gape at him, standing up from your crouched position, feeling wildly and thoroughly confused. “Why would I like this ass!?” You asked, a little too excited, feeling too many things to process at the moment.

“Because you do.” The hobbits added, you gasping in shock when even Sam, betrayed you.

“I do not!” You said rather indignantly, choosing to ignore the large smirk on Legolas’ face, watching you try not to explode.

“I hate to say this, because you’re a good lass, but you do like the elf.” Gilmi agreed reluctantly.

“Since when did this become ‘shit on (Y/N)’ day?” You asked, feeling rather mad that you had been all ganged up on. “Besides, all he does is annoy me! I don’t like him!” You cried out, rather indignantly, though the more you said it, the more it sounded like a lie, and you were hating that.

“Then what do you like?” Aragorn asked, softly and rather calculated, seeming uninterested.

You opened your mouth, before closing it slightly, before blurting it out, not really thinking any of this through. “Infuriating perfection. Like when someone is so perfect, but it also makes me want to knock their teeth out.” You only realized as soon as the words had come out of your mouth, the wall that you had been backed into.

Loud laughs emitted the entire group, much to your dismay, and continued despite your indignant hisses of ‘I don’t like him!!’

[a-splash-of-stucky]

A Messed Up Place | Twelve

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Summary: The voice of reason pays Bucky a visit.

Warnings: Language…and that’s basically it!

Notes: Of all the chapter summaries I’ve ever made, this one is my personal favourite :DD

Written for @hellomissmabel’s challenge. I’ve reviewed my plan for this story, and I think I’m going to write an extra fluffy chapter for AMUP, making it 15 chapters total, not including the prologue and epilogue. This chapter and the next one are rather dialogue-heavy, so apologies if that’s not what you enjoy :/

AMUP Masterlist

Bucky leans back against the kitchen counter and takes a swig of his coffee, grimacing as the overly bitter liquid swirls down his throat. He’d run out of sugar a couple of days ago, and hasn’t been bothered enough to go down to the corner store to pick up more. Bucky sighs as he glances around the small space, noting the dirty dishes that have piled up on the side and the overflowing bin that is just begging to be emptied.

Bucky’s not at the compound. In fact, he hasn’t been there in two months. Bucky’s staying at a little hideaway in Brooklyn which Steve had bought way back when Bucky first returned to the States, having finished his self-imposed mission of hunting down every last HYDRA rat and razing the remnants of that vile organisation to the ground.

He’d arrived here barely three hours after he’d had that talk — more of a screaming match, really — with you. After storming out of the lounge area, Bucky had gone straight to his room, kicked the door shut and crammed some essentials into a backpack. He’d snuck out of his room, then exited the building via one of the service entrances. Bucky had chosen to walk all the way to the city, not wanting to take one of Stark’s cars for fear of being tracked.

The Brooklyn apartment was a place just for Steve and Bucky, a place to escape when things at the compound got too intense; when Stark got too jovial, when Natasha got too inquisitive, when Wilson got too annoying. Sure, it’s more of a broom cupboard than it is an apartment, but it’s got a bed that he can just about squeeze into, a functioning bathroom, a not-too-shabby kitchen and a living area that houses a second-hand TV, a ratty couch and an armchair that smells vaguely of mothballs. Though it’s not a five-star hotel, it’s got it’s own charms.

In truth, Bucky had promised himself that he was only going to stay away for two nights, max, before going back to face the music. But, when day three rolled around, Bucky found that he couldn’t muster up the courage he needed in order to return. So, two nights became three, three nights became seven, a week became two and before he’d realised it, Bucky finds that he’s been here for over eight weeks. And as more time passes, the harder it becomes to make himself leave.

He’s kept himself busy, all this while. Bucky goes on the odd mission every now and then to keep his mind occupied and his skills sharp. They’re always small jobs that reach his ears via his own intelligence network, which he’d built up over his many decades in the field. Though he may no longer be the fearsome Winter Soldier -- in mind, anyway -- he’s managed to retain the respect and trust within his community that that title had bestowed upon him.  

Still, no matter how hard he may try to take his mind off the problem, the feeling that he’s let you down, in some way, continuously plagues him. Truthfully, there had been no reason for Bucky to leave. The only real reason he can think of is his cowardliness. He’d promised to stick around and have another talk with you, but that talk has yet to happen.

Bucky is fairly certain that no one on the team knows that he’s here. Well, maybe Natasha, but then again, he’d be suspicious and slightly worried if the opposite were true. Bucky’s gotten himself a new phone, changed his number, kept a low profile for the last couple of months. He’s basically dropped off the grid. He never intended to severe all contact when he first left the compound, it just sort of…happened. Bucky doesn’t want to completely prevent you from being able to find him, it’s just…he’s not quite ready to be found, yet.

It’s not that Bucky doesn’t want to talk to you, that’s not the issue at all. Bucky’s afraid. He’s afraid of what you might say, how your opinions of him might have changed now that you’ve had some time to think things through, stewed in your own thoughts for a while. Bucky doesn’t know how you’ll react. Bucky doesn’t know how he’ll react to you. There are a lot of uncertainties present in the situation, and if there’s one thing that Bucky hates, it’s dealing with uncertainty.

So of course, he’s chosen to not deal with any of those uncertainties by walking away from the problem in its entirety.

Bucky knows it’s cowardly, he knows that this course of action solves absolutely nothing, that it’s probably making the problem worse, but he can’t fucking make himself do anything about it. Avoiding the issue is the exact reason why the two of you are in this situation in the first place; it seems that Bucky hasn’t learnt from his past mistakes. History is cruelly repeating itself. As much progress as the two of you have made by uncovering all the secrets you’d hidden from each other, Bucky still feels like he’s back at square one.

His uncertainty is made even worse by the fact that Bucky doesn’t know whether or not you’ve decided to keep the baby. There’s not a single peep about that in the news — he presumes that the PR team are hard at work keeping those ravenous reporters at bay.

He does, however, have a strong gut feeling that you’ve had an abortion. Bucky’s got no proof for his hypothesis, but feels that now that you know the full story — that the child inside you is most likely his — why would you want to carry the pregnancy to full term? Why would you want to birth a child whose father is a monster like himself?

It’s those kinds of thoughts that haunt his every minute, asleep or awake. 

Bucky finishes off his coffee and dumps his mug into the sink. He leans his palms on the edge of the counter and looks out through the grimy window, over the rooftops of the buildings in the distance. 

How did we get here? he wonders dejectedly.

The two of you have ended up in a messed up place. It’s lonely and horrible and downright depressing, far more miserable than either of you should ever have to be.

Bucky’s had a lot of time to think, these past few weeks. He’s been spending a lot of time reflecting on his feelings for you. Bucky realises how blinded he was, how infatuated he was with the idea of love, with his image of you. You were the first person to show him kindness besides Steve, so of course his heart would form some sort of bond. He loved the perception of you he held in his mind — and when that perception proved to be false, his feelings for you underwent significant changes. 

He’s come to the conclusion that he hates you, in some capacity, but at the same time, loves you. It’s confusing, so utterly confusing, having these two emotions juxtaposing each other so drastically; it’s a never-ending battle in his mind. Sure, it’s probably unhealthy of him to still love you, despite all you’ve done to him, but—well, chocolates are also unhealthy, no? You’re his chocolate — his only vice. 

Nonetheless, Bucky’s got a clearer head on his shoulders, now. It’s as if someone has removed the blindfold from over his eyes. He still has feelings for you, in some manner, but you are no longer his anchor in this world — no, he grounds himself. 

The sound of the keys jingling by the front door interrupts his thoughts.

Bucky tenses, immediately cursing himself for not thinking to change the locks when he’d first moved in. He’s got no time to dwell on who it might be, though, because he can already hear the door creaking open. Bucky dives for cover behind the fridge, which is angled such that he’ll be able to see the intruder as they step into the hallway, before they have eyes on him. His flesh hand sneaks into the gap between the fridge and the wall, prying free the knife he’d wedged in there. He holds it in his hand, familiarising himself with its weight.

All fears are set aside when he hears a familiar booming voice calling “Barnes? You in here?”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Bucky swears, breathing a sigh of relief as he tucks the knife into his boot. He emerges from behind the fridge just as Sam saunters into the living room. “The fuck you doin’ here, Wilson? And how in hell d’you have a key?”

Sam whirls around, a brief smile appearing on his face when he sees Bucky. His brows knit together in confusion at Bucky’s question. “Uhh…Steve gave me one? I used to crash in here every now and then, ‘fore I moved into the compound officially.” As he speaks, Sam pulls off his bomber jacket and takes off his cap and sunglasses, dumping them on the coffee table.

Bucky scrunches up his nose in disdain. “So you knew I was here all this while, then?”

“What? Nah, man. Natasha figured it out first.”

“How?” Bucky presses.

Sam shrugs. “Hell if I know. I asked her the same thing and she just gave me that look, y’know? That creepy smile?” He shudders at the memory. “Anyway, she found out and told me, and we both thought it’d be best to leave you alone, at least for a little bit, see if you’d come back on your own.”

“Which I have not done,” Bucky says curtly, “And for good reason.”

“Oh really?” Sam asks, arching an eyebrow in amusement. “Do tell.”

Bucky huffs. “I needed some space,” he mumbles.

“Bullshit,” Sam scoffs, “Biggest lie I’ve ever seen.”

Sam’s tone sets Bucky on edge, his upper lip curling back into a snarl. “Yeah? Well why the fuck are you here, Wilson?”

“Can’t a man drop by to say hi to a friend?” Sam asks, spreading his arms wide in a placating gesture.

“No,” Bucky replies, “We ain’t friends, Wilson.”

“True,” Sam admits, nodding slowly, “You did rip the steering wheel—,”

“I said I was sorry!” Bucky interrupts, throwing his hands up in frustration. For Sam’s sake, Bucky ignores the eye roll that Sam throws in his direction. “At least a hundred times, I might add.”

“I forgive you, but I ain’t forgettin’ about it. And I’ll be dead ‘fore I let you forget, either.”

“Whatever,” Bucky grumbles, “Still haven’t answered my question, Wilson — what are you doing here?”

Sam sighs, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I’m checking up on you, that’s what,” he replies.

“You—what?”

Sam quirks an eyebrow as he gives Bucky an appraising once-over. “Barnes, I dunno if you’ve noticed, but you look like shit.” He pauses, shakes his head, then elaborates, “No, that’s me being nice — you look like a pile of shit that’s been exposed to the elements for two days, then got dragged through an even bigger pile of shit and rolled over by a tank, or something. What, no hot water in this place? Forget how to do the laundry? Don’t got time to buy food for yourself?”

Bucky frowns, glancing down at himself as Sam speaks. His tattered t-shit and threadbare sweats are a  sharp contrast to Wilson’s crisp and clean look, he has to admit. Bucky’s grown his hair out, to the point where the tips are just brushing his shoulders. He knows that his hair’s a lot shaggier, somewhat stringy and gross looking. Self-care just hasn’t been on the top of his list of priorities, as of late.

“Well fuck you, Wilson,” Bucky mutters, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

Sam flashes him a gentle smile. “I’m checking up on you because it’s what Steve would’ve wanted me to do—,”

“So you’re only here because of him, then,” Bucky snaps angrily.

“Hold up, lemme finish!” Sam protests, “I was gonna say because I kinda like you, Barnes. In a weird, ‘admire you from a distance’, kinda way.”

Bucky blinks slowly, astonished by Sam’s confession. “W-well, I guess I could say the same about you,” he says begrudgingly.

“But…there’s something I’d like to talk to you about,” Sam says softly, casting his eyes downwards.

Immediately, Bucky’s protective walls are back up. He tenses in anticipation, bracing himself for some bad news. “What?” he grits out.

“Look, I—I think this is the kinda thing that you need to sit down for,” Sam suggests.

“Fine. Sit,” Bucky growls, gesturing for Sam to take the lone armchair. Bucky plops himself in the middle of the couch, situating himself directly opposite the other man.

“Gee, not gonna offer me a drink or something?” Sam remarks dryly, as he gingerly sits down in the proffered chair. At Bucky’s murderous glare, he hastily tacks on, “Alright, alright, no need ta’ be so touchy.”

“Wilson,” Bucky warns, “If you don’t fucking get on with it, I’m gonna throw you out of the goddamn window.”

“Okay, okay, fine,” Sam sighs, clasping his hands in his lap. “It’s about Y/N.”

Bucky clenches his hand into fists, baring his teeth in a grimace as he moves to get off the couch. “Yeah, about that window—,”

“Barnes, you sit your ass down and listen to what I got to say,” Sam says sharply, holding out one hand. “Five minutes, that’s all I’m asking for.”

With much reluctance, Bucky slumps against the back of the couch, sighing tiredly. “Fine. I’m giving you three,” he concedes.

Sam shakes his head in disbelief, clears his throat, then starts explaining. “The day we discovered that you’d left, Y/N…was upset. Like, really, really upset — locked herself up in her room, wouldn’t come out to talk to anyone for three days straight, not even Wanda.” He pauses, sparing a glance in Bucky’s direction, “And you know how close those two are. So, the rest of us…kinda thought that those two things had to be connected, somehow. Too much of a coincidence, otherwise.”

Bucky wants to shift uncomfortably in his seat, not happy with where this seems to be going. He doesn’t like what Sam’s implying, but until he’s heard more of the story, Bucky’s unwilling to let his emotions show.

“Anyway,” Sam continues, “She wasn’t eating, during that time, and that’s when Helen told us that Y/N was pregnant. She was getting concerned for Y/N’s health, you see.”

“Wait, you guys didn’t know that she was pregnant?” Bucky asks, brows knitting together, perplexed. “I thought she would’ve told at least Nat or Wanda or something.”

“Nope,” Sam replies, shaking his head. “Didn’t tell any of us. Hold up—you knew that she was pregnant?”

Bucky flounders under Sam’s astonished expression, unsure of how to respond. “I uh—yeah. Yeah, she told me.”

“Okay,” Sam says, drawing out the two syllables questioningly. “Anyway, um, so Helen went and talked to her, and that’s when Y/N finally came out and told us all that she’s pregnant with Steve’s kid.”

“Steve’s?” Bucky echoes, stunned.

“Steve’s, yeah,” Sam confirms, nodding confidently. “Who…who else’s would it be?” he asks, confused.

“Uhh—no one’s, no, nothing,” Bucky stammers, “I, uh—continue.” Bucky’s mind is whirling from this revelation. Why haven’t you told anyone the truth? Why would you be saving Bucky’s face like that?

“Right, so…she told us all that she was pregnant, and that she wanted to keep the baby—,”

“What?” Bucky squawks. He winces at his lack of restraint — he’s supposed to be a master at espionage, for fuck’s sake, he should be better at concealing his emotions than this.

“Yeah, she’s like…what? Four months pregnant now?”

“Oh,” Bucky squeaks, keeping his gaze downcast so that Sam can’t see the guilt in his eyes. Holy shit you’re four months pregnant and Bucky hasn’t been there to support you.

Crap. He’s already a terrible father.

Bucky sighs, raking his fingers through his unkempt hair. “But…Wilson, that doesn’t answer my question: why’re you here?” Bucky repeats.

“I’m gettin’ to that part of the story now,” Sam grumbles. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looks driectly at Bucky. “She just hasn’t been the same since you’ve left.”

“It—it could just be because Steve’s gone,” Bucky points out, throat going dry at the way Sam’s looking at him.

Sam shrugs, tipping his head in acknowledgement. “Well, yeah, sure, but you guys…you guys used to be tight, once upon a time. And then—she got with Steve and the two of you sorta drifted apart, but we could — or at least, I could — tell that that you still kinda cared for her.”

“I do,” Bucky admits, voice quiet.

“The why’d you leave?” Sam asks, the briefest hint of anger entering his tone.

Bucky bristles in response. “What does me leaving having anything to do with her?” he snaps, “I just needed some space, after Steve passed—,”

“What you need is people lookin’ out for you, Barnes,” Sam interrupts, holding a hand up to halt Bucky in his tracks. “Supportin’ you, helping you through this. You can’t do this alone, Bucky. You..don’t need to do this alone,” Sam adds, voice softening with the last statement.

Bucky pushes aside the slight heartache that has flared up in his chest. “This isn’t about me,” he says gruffly.

“You’re right,” Sam agrees, “This is about Y/N, and she needs you right now.”

“But—she’s got the rest of you guys to look out for her, why does she need me?” Bucky asks, confusion and frustration tinging his voice.

“Because you, for whatever reason, are caught up in all this,” Sam explains, waving his hand in concentric circles. “Whatever’s got Y/N so upset has something to do with you, or at least with you leaving.”

“No it doesn’t,” Bucky says sullenly, expression twisting into a scowl.

“Barnes,” Sam sighs.

“What?”

“You know something.”

Bucky bites his tongue, unwilling to respond to that.

“You do,” Sam pushes, leaning even further forward, “What Bucky? What d’you know? Talk to me, please.”

“I—can’t,” Bucky murmurs, a hot flush rising to his cheeks as he thinks back to the long and complicated and distinctly not fairytale-like story of you and him, recalls how fucked up and twisted it is.

“Why?” Sam asks.

“Because…Y/N. Her—,” he cuts himself off, turning away to look out of the window, taking a moment to tamp down the shame and guilt whirling around inside him.

“Her what? Dignity? Privacy? Is that what you’re worried about?” Sam offers. “You know that what you tell me stays between you and me, right? It stays within these four walls. You want me to strip butt naked? ‘Cause I will, just to show you I ain’t wired up or nothin’.”

Bucky winces at the unpleasant mental image. The tension in his shoulders does dissipate a little, however. “Thanks for the offer, but no thanks,” he mutters.

“Look, no one knows I came here, I swear on my life,” Sam tells him, “I’m just…concerned for her, concerned for you, and I just…I wanna help.”

Still Bucky says nothing, too ashamed to admit all the things that have happened between the two of you. He  picks at the knee of his sweatpants, twisting a thread which has come free around his finger.

“Bucky,” Sam says, voice barely louder than a murmur, “I literally don’t care what you could say to me. I’ve seen some pretty fucked up shit in my life, alright? I won’t judge, I promise you. I will listen, for as long as you want me to, and not judge.”

Bucky closes his eyes and takes a shaky breath. His pulse is roaring in his ears and his mouth feels unnaturally dry. Telling Sam can’t be any worse than telling you, can it? He swallows nervously, clears his throat, then slowly cracks open his eyes to find Sam staring back at him, a patient smile on his lips.

And so Bucky tells.

He tells Sam everything.

Bucky tells him about the friends with benefits relationship going on between you and Bucky, all the rules you’d put into place. How you’d started dating Steve and how gutted Bucky had felt on the back of that. How Bucky later found out that you’d done that with the intent of making him jealous. He tells Sam of the night he’d gotten drunk off Asgardian mead and admitted his feelings for you to Steve. Sam learns about the mission in Malaysia, and all the consequences of that one night of passion.

Sam listens to it all, not once interrupting him. His face betrays no emotion whatsoever.

Bucky tells Sam of the emotional agony he was in. He tells Sam of the turmoil inside his head after Steve’s death, after you’d told him about your pregnancy. His story ends with the last talk he’d had with you, the night that Bucky had fled from the compound.

When he’s done, Bucky sits back in his couch, feeling slightly winded, a little dizzy, but a whole lot better. It’s as if a weight has been lifted from his chest. He feels infinitesimally lighter, like there’s less of a burden on his shoulders.

Sam hums, nodding his head slowly as he digests Bucky’s story. “Wow,” he breathes, “That’s…wow.”

Bucky snorts. “Was hoping for something more profound than that, Wilson.”

Sam chuckles briefly, before he catches Bucky’s eyes and sobers up. “Okay, so here’s the part where we have a deep discussion about everything you’ve just told me,” Sam says, “You think you’re up for that?”

“No,” Bucky admits, “But let’s do it anyway.

“Alright, first question then. Why’d you leave?” he asks quietly.

“Are you—for real?” Bucky sputters, “You’re really asking me that question?” Of all the questions to start off with, why on earth did he have to choose that one?

Sam cocks his head to the side. “Yes, of course.”

Bucky swallows, tips his head back to look at the peeling ceiling as he considers his answer. “I—I left because…I was scared. ‘Cause I am scared,” he replies.

“Of what?” Sam presses.

“Of…what happens next,” Bucky sighs, “That argument — I know that the truth was gonna come out at some point, it had to. I could’ve tried to bottle it up inside me forever but…I wouldn’t have been successful. The pressure would’ve given way, soon enough.”

“Doesn’t answer the question, Barnes, you’re deflecting.”

“Okay fine,” Bucky snaps, “I’m scared ‘cause I don’t know what’s going on inside her head. I—she lied to Steve, Wilson, she—she played us both. Okay, okay, I admit, that sounds kinda evil, which is not how I meant it, but that’s…that’s what happened! And the thing is, it worked! For a while, at least to some extent, she got away with it.”

A moment of silence passes as Sam takes that in. “So…you’re scared she’s gonna lie to you?” he asks.

Bucky takes a moment to chew over the question, examining it inside his head. “No…I don’t think so. I don’t think she’d do it again. I think she’s as tired of the lies as I am.”

“Then what?”

Bucky growls under his breath in frustration. “Fuck if I know, Wilson,” he grumbles, “I don’t know why I left. I—maybe it’s because I’m scared that she won’t want me, anymore. Maybe I’m scared that I’m not good enough for her, now that she knows the truth—,”

“You’re scared of her rejection?” Sam clarifies.

“…Or maybe, I’m scared of rejecting her,” Bucky breathes, pieces of the puzzle clicking into place as his own understanding begins to solidify. “Now that I…now that I know who she is, what she’s capable of, maybe I’m scared that I won’t want her anymore.”

Sam makes a thoughtful humming noise in the back of his throat. “Sounds to me like you’re scared of the unknown,” he comments, “You’re scared that the future you have planned out in you head is not the one that’s gonna play out in reality.”

Bucky nods slowly, mulling over that suggestion. “I…yeah. I think that’s it. Fear of the unknown.”

He looks up when Sam exhales loudly, watching as he leans back in his armchair and crosses his legs at the knee. “Hate to break it to you, Barnes,” Sam drawls, “But that’s just kinda the way life works. You can plan out your future all you want, but in the end, you’re still gonna end up taking a lot of risks.”

“But that’s the thing,” Bucky whines, “I don’t know if this is a risk worth taking. What do I do, Sam? How do I make things better?”

Wilson raises his eyebrows, a little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Look man, I’m not gonna tell you what to do—,”

“Aw, c’mon—,”

“—but I am gonna tell you what I think about all this.”

Bucky blinks owlishly, thrown by the sudden turn of events. “Yeah. Okay, yes — please do, I need to listen to a voice that’s not coming from inside my head, for once.”

Sam laughs softly, “Yeah. I’ll bet you do.”

He’s silent for a minute, shifting in his seat as he plans out what he wants to say. “‘Kay, here’s what I think,” he begins, “From what you’ve told me, I can tell that you’re feelings a whole lot of emotions. I’m reading anger, I’m reading jealousy, fear, sadness. But the thing that keep coming up, over and over? The emotion that’s overwhelmingly obvious? Guilt.”

Sam’s tone gentles as he cocks his head to the side. “You feeling guilty, Bucky?”

“Well…” Bucky swallows, rubs his palms up and down his thighs nervously as he runs his tongue over his bottom lip. “Well, yeah. I do, kind of. I…hurt her.”

Sam narrows his eyes in suspicion. “You don’t sound too sure about that.”

Bucky gnaws listlessly on his bottom lip, wracking his brain for an answer. Wilson’s right. Bucky does feel guilty for hurting you, for dragging you through hell, but that’s not the full picture. That’s only the surface issue; what bothers Bucky is something hurting him on a deeper level. “I hurt her…but—but I got hurt too,” Bucky murmurs, after a while, “But…I guess I feel kinda guilty for blaming her?”

“And there we go,” Sam says, clapping his hands together. “That’s what I’m seeing, what’s glaringly clear to me — you hurt her, she hurt you. But, at the same time, you’re hurt and she’s hurt. As far as I can see, you’re both victims and perpetrators in this case.” He sits up a little straighter in his chair, puffing his chest out authoritatively, “But what you gotta realise is that it’s not a matter of tryna outcompete each other to see who can hurt the other person worse, or tryna to out-do each other and see who can shoulder more pain.”

“Look, both of you were idiots, but both of you ‘fessed up to your sins, at the end of the day. And that’s what matters,” Sam says, slapping his palm on the armrest for emphasis. “What matters is that in the end, you both came clean and laid all your cards on the table.”

It really is nice, being able to talk to an unbiased third party about all this. Bucky’s mind feels instantly cleared, as if Sam has plucked out the mess inside his head and arranged into neat, ordered piles. “So what now?” Bucky asks.

“What d’you mean, what now?”

“Where do we go from here?” Bucky clarifies, “I mean, I know we need to move forward, but…I guess I’m asking for directions. Which way is forward?”

“That’s something you two need to decide for yourselves,” Sam replies smoothly.

Bucky groans, dragging his flesh hand down his face out of frustration.

“Look, I’m not her—,” Sam points out.

“Thank god,” Bucky mutters darkly.

“—soI I can’t pretend to know what she’s thinking,” he explains. “If you wanna know what she’s thinking—,”

“—I gotta go talk to her myself,” Bucky finishes, sighing in resignation.

“Exactly,” says Sam, nodding encouragingly. “S’the only way you’ll know for certain.”

“Wilson, I—,”

“Alright, listen up,” Sam says, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward once again. He clasps his hands in front of him. “Listen—y’know, good foundations are the key to a good building, right?”

“…yeah,” Bucky says hesitantly, dragging the syllable out. His brows are furrowed in confusion at Sam’s unexpected change of topic. “Wilson, how is—,”

“Shut up, I just came up with a good analogy!” Sam cries, holding both palms out towards Bucky to silence him. “Alright, good foundations are the key to a solid building, and the way I see it, y’all need to rebuild from the bottom.”

Sam starts gesturing animatedly with his hands, sketching out a skyscraper in the air using his index finger. “Your building — which represents your relationship, or whatever the hell it is you had together — used to have shitty foundations. Like, real fucking crap, Barnes. Tower could’ve been knocked over by a strong breeze. Those old foundations couldn’t have held up a shack, let alone hold up the weight of all the secrets you two were piling on it. But now, that entire facade has been knocked to the ground. Flattened. Completely,” Sam says, making huge flourishes with both hands.

“So you gotta start from the bottom, again. You’ve gotta rebuild this, make it into whatever you and her want it to be,” he continues. “I’m not gonna tell you what that is, but…you’ve got a chance at a fresh start, Barnes,” Sam says, the corners of his lips upturning into a smile. “I think you’d be crazy to not take it.”

There is a lull in the conversation as Bucky’s brain digests what Sam’s just said.

“Damn, Wilson, that was fucking awesome,” Sam mutters under his breath, quietly fist-pumping the air.

“Careful, flying chicken,” Bucky chuckles, “Any higher and you’ll get too close to the sun. Your wings might melt.”

Wilson rolls his eyes sarcastically. “My wings happen to be made of something more resilient than wax, Barnes,” Sam retorts. “But thanks for your concern, anyway.”

“No problem,” Bucky says solemnly.

Sam snorts, shaking his head in amusement as he leans back in his chair and steeples his fingers under his chin. “But yeah, that’s the way I see it,” he says, “You’ve got a clean slate. You’ve both laid all your cards on the table and now you can either choose to push them aside and start a new game, or continue staring at the terrible hands that life has dealt you.”

“D’you want my opinion?” Sam asks.

“Not particularly,” Bucky answers.

“Good, ‘cause here it is: I’m not saying that you need to forgive her right now, if ever. I’m not saying that she’s gonna forgive you, right now or at all, in fact. I’m certainly not telling either of you to forget that any of this ever happened. What I am saying is for you to both accept what’s happened and…move forward, wherever forward may be.”

“S’easier said than done,” Bucky groans, crossing his arms over his chest and slouching further into the couch cushions.

“True,” Sam concedes, “But it ain’t ever gonna get done if you just sit there and do nothing about it. Look, you said you’d talk to her, and I think that’s what you need to do.” He pauses, then adds, “And actually talk to her this time, don’t just shout at each other and throw around insults. Listen to what she’s got to say, and if she cares for you as much as she says she does, she’ll do the same for you.”

Bucky swallows, looks towards Sam as he combs his fingers through his hair. “And what if she doesn’t?” he asks quietly.

“Doesn’t what? Care, or listen?”

“Both.”

Sam stills, tipping his head forward as he considers the question. “Well then, I guess you’d better decide whether that’s a love worth fighting for. Communication’s the key in a good relationship, ain’t that what they say?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Bucky sighs.

“Like I said: I ain’t gonna tell you what to do, Barnes. You’re a grown ass man, you can make your own decisions.”

“Fucking hell,” Bucky grumbles, “That’s really useful, Wilson. Real useful.” He decides to get more comfortable by twisting his body so that he’s lying on his back on top of the lumpy couch cushions.

“Buuuuuut,” Sam drawls, “I can pass on some potentially useful information.”

Bucky’s ears perk up and he lifts his head up inquisitively, at that. “What?” he asks.

“Tony, Bruce and Pepper are all staying in the tower this weekend. Clint’s taking Natasha back to his farm, and I’m taking Wanda to visit my mom’s place, ‘cause they love each other,” Sam reveals, checking each person off on his fingers.

Bucky arches an eyebrow in surprise. “You’re leaving Y/N alone in the compound?”

“Well, I offered her a ride, and so did Clint, but she turned us down,” Sam explains. “Said she just wanted some time alone.”

Well then, Bucky muses. Aloud, he replies, “Yeah. Uhh—thanks, Wilson. I’ll…I’ll think about it.”

Sam nods curtly, slapping his hands on his knees one last time before rising out of his chair. “You do that. But don’t think too much,” he adds, “God knows you’ve done too much thinking already. I can practically see the steam comin’ outta your ears, old man. Gonna give yourself a heart attack if you think any harder.”

“Real funny,” Bucky snarks, but there’s no heat to his tone. “I think it’s time you head on out, Wilson.”

“I think so too,” Sam agrees, giving Bucky a half-hearted wave as he shrugs into his jacket and puts on his cap and sunglasses.  

“Sam?” Bucky calls, just as the man in question starts walking over to the door.

Sam whirls around. “Yeah?”

“Thanks,” Bucky says, a small smile curling on his lips.

The smile he receives in return is a genuine one, encouraging and optimistic, all at the same time. “You’ll be okay, Barnes,” Sam says.

Bucky closes his eyes and listens to the sounds of Sam’s retreating footsteps with a stupid grin on his face and a lightness in his heart that hasn’t been there for a long while. For the first time in goodness-knows-how-long, Bucky actually knows what he needs to do.

------------------------------ Tags are open, but only via PMs or asks. Tag requests from replies/comments will be ignored. 

Kudos to you if you spotted the reference to the fic title within this chapter. Congratulations also if you know which Sebastian Stan/Anthony Mackie video I was thinking of when Bucky made the flying chicken joke. 

[aion-rsa]

You Should Check Out the Paralympics

https://ift.tt/3BpOGn7

U.S. Paralympic swimmer Jamal Hill has big goals.

“I set out upon this journey to become the LeBron James of swimming – to just become the greatest that I can be, but also the most recognized swimmer in the world,” Hill tells Den of Geek.

Hill was just 10 years old when he first experienced total paralysis and was diagnosed with Charcot-Marie-Tooth (CMT) – a hereditary neurological condition that can result in loss of muscle tissue and touch sensation. Over the years, however, Hill not only gradually regained his mobility but became an elite swimmer. The Los Angeles-native is now ranked #1 in the US Paralympic 50m Freestyle and is currently in Tokyo representing his country in the 2020 Paralympics.

The Tokyo 2020 Paralympic Games began on Aug. 24, just over three weeks after the Olympics’ closing ceremonies and are set to run through Sept. 5. The Paralympic Games have a bit of a marketing problem in comparison to its older cousin, which is something that Hill wants to change. He notes that some countries like Australia combine the swimming trials for both the Olympics and Paralympics but in the U.S., the Olympics swimming trials took on the pomp and circumstance of a Hollywood premiere, while the Paralympic trials had more of a high school meet vibe. 

“Athletes like myself just taking that initiative to promote their own careers and promote their own brands serves the greater Paralympic movement,” he says. 

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A post shared by Jamal Hill (@swimuphill)

Just before Hill took off for Tokyo, he was nice enough to chat with Den of Geek about his journey, why the Paralympics should be appointment viewing, and his non-profit Swim Up Hill. 

Surprisingly, there was a lot of talk about Ray Kroc’s McDonald’s business model as well, which we’re presenting in its entirety because it’s pretty fun.

The following has been edited and condensed for clarity.

Den of Geek: What was last year like for you? Because it was difficult and weird for all of us, but I imagine it’s even weirder and more difficult for you as an athlete.

Jamal Hill: Yeah. Last year seems like a long time ago now. Obviously first and foremost, just prayers out to all the people who were negatively impacted by COVID-19. Hindsight is 2020, and I’m somebody that doesn’t look at things as really blessings or curses, really it’s just all a new challenge. So, we had some strong challenges, man. We lost our pool facility. I was challenged to continue training in backyard pools, which is pretty comical. I was challenged to up my mental and spiritual game. 

Because our home pool was gone, we had to figure out “okay, well how are we going to train?” So, man, I was already all over the county, but COVID-19 literally put me all over the county. I was swimming in pools in the Palisades, and Ladera, and Long Beach, and Burbank, and Altadena, and you name it, I’ve been to pretty much every major pool there is around the county. That was a stepping stone, dude, and now we’re onto the next step. I pulled strength from that experience, quite frankly.

I imagine when you’re training for the Paralympics, there’s not a lot of free time. But when you do have free time, what do you enjoy?

Dude, my time ain’t free. When I’m not swimming, I’m the executive director and founder of the Swim Up Hill Foundation, Inc. We have a mission to teach a million people every year how to swim in BIPOC and low-to-middle income communities. So I spend a lot of my time organizing my staff, running documents, organizing events, running budgets, and things like that, just being a businessman. 

Then outside of that, I’m an avid reader. I probably read anywhere from four to six books a month. And that’s from autobiographies, biographies, self-improvement, you name it. That’s pretty much my time right there. But yeah, I find a lot of fulfillment in just fulfilling my destiny. That’s what I call it. It’s not even work, it’s just like I’m working on my destiny here, and it brings me a lot, a lot, a lot of joy. So I don’t feel like I’m missing out on anything.

I would say you’re definitely not. Even people who aren’t training for the 50 meter freestyle don’t usually read four to six books a month.

Well, again, that’s that kind of a business mindset of it. I set out upon this journey to become really the LeBron James of swimming – to just become the greatest that I can be, but also the most recognized swimmer in the world. I pull inspiration from the music industry and then some of my different industries of entertainment and artists, and you understand that the artform itself ultimately is probably about 30%, and 70% is business. The world’s greatest CEOs are reading, on average, 72 books a year. So, if that’s the company I want to be in, that’s the pace you’ve got to keep.

Do you think that there’s a path that can be taken to maybe promote the Paralympics a little more? From your perspective, what do you think is the best way to go about it?

I think one really powerful way is to combine the marketing and the events more. So for example, just in the swimming spectrum, there are certain countries like Australia where the swimming trials of the Olympics and Paralympics are held at the same venue on the same weekend. But Olympic swimming and Paralympics trials were held in completely different cities. One of them is a fricking Hollywood blow-out, and then one of them is rinky-dink high school meet, almost, the feeling of it. And that’s the one I was at.

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Tokyo Olympics 2021: Every Video Game Song From the Opening Ceremony

By Matthew Byrd

Athletes like myself just taking that initiative to promote their own careers and promote their own brands serves the greater Paralympic movement. And then, again, also, outside of that, there are steps being taken, man. I think it’s just so new. It’s almost like when, do you remember when Lil’ Bow Wow changed his name just to Bow Wow?

Yep.

Yeah. And for a cool minute, everybody is like, “No, that’s Lil’ Bow Wow. I don’t care how old you get, Shad Moss, you’ll never just be Bow Wow.” But now after some time it’s like, okay, it’s just Bow Wow. Nobody cares. I think that’s ultimately where we’re at right now. It’s the Olympic and Paralympic Committee of the United States. The IOC and IPC haven’t joined yet. So I think those bodies joining and becoming this one acronym, is ultimately, again, over the years, going to start to help people.

This year is going to be the first year the Paralympics are showcased on NBC so we’re definitely continuing to make strides in the right way. I don’t even want to slap anybody’s wrist too hard, and say, “You got to be able to pick it up.” I think they’re doing some really good things. And obviously coming onto platforms like yours, now you’re a part of this education process. Now a lot of your community is going to be like, “Oh, shit, I thought it was just the Olympics. Paralympics? And they all get paid the same? They’re all elite athletes? They all are overcoming crazy challenges and struggles? And oh my God, this person has no arms or legs, and he swims faster than I do. How the heck is that possible?” That’s something I want to see. So it’s going to catch fire, man, don’t you worry, it’s going to catch.

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I believe you. What’s your favorite book you read recently?

Let me just pull up my Audible. I would say most recently my favorite book has probably been Grinding It Out by Ray Kroc and Robert Anderson, the McDonald’s story. That’s probably been my favorite book of late. Ray Kroc didn’t even make his nut till he was in his 40s or 50s. And at first it didn’t even look like it was going to happen, but he stayed dedicated. He had the experience and wisdom to know a gem when he found it and he stuck with it. Then just to see the licensing, the franchise model of McDonald’s with my foundation, that’s ultimately a template that I use when talking to my staff. 

We’re the McDonald’s of swim education. Our goal is to get people from “can’t swim” to “can swim” as quickly, as effectively, and as simply as possible. Ultimately the system is designed to be so simple that I can put you right here on the fries, or put your right here on the grill, and it’s like step one, two, three, done, and it’s always the same outcome, always quality control. That’s why Ray Kroc is my man. Big fan, dude. And obviously McDonald’s has as a brand, I know we’re in the health age, and it’s not the healthiest food, so I’m not supporting it in that way necessarily, but also at the same pace, it’s a lot healthier than a lot of stuff out there, the quality of their meats and things like that.

Have you ever seen the movie Super Size Me?

Guaranteed, man. Hell yeah, I saw Super Size Me.

I read recently that no one’s been able to replicate those results. That’s not really a strong  scientific process he goes through in that movie.

With respect, I hope no one was ever calling it a strong scientific process. No case study has ever been performed on one person. 

The Paralympics can be live-streamed on NBCOlympics.com with select events appearing on NBC-branded networks and the Peacock streaming service.

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