#they have one brain cell split between them and they couldn’t share so they ripped it into thirds

[incorrect-losers]

Stan: How could you possibly get into this much trouble in one day?

Richie, Bev, and Bill: It didn’t take the whole day

[xxwritemeastoryxx]

Wrong Move

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: Elijah Mikaelson x reader

Word Count: 1500

Warnings: Kidnapping, slight mentions of drug and physicall abuse (If you squint, but lets just be cautious, shall we?)

Author’s Note: I am once again killing two birds with one stone. This was submitted by the lovely @emmice9 for my 1500 follower challenge. And I’ll be using this for @hellotvshowtrash ​‘s #february2021promptchallenge. I would also like to say that this is A BRIEF LOOK into a new series that will be coming later on in this year. All because my brain cant keep ideas to one shots. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy. 

Feedback gives me life and motivation for future things. 

The world has changed drastically over the centuries. The world people used to know had changed when the creatures that roamed the darkness had come out of hiding. Vampires became the superior species, creating a completely different hierarchy within the world. Those that came from money were free from the torment and slavery of the Vampires. Werewolves and witches were far and few between. And when they emerged they were a force to be reckoned with that the vampires let them be. So long as they weren't attacked, they never retaliated and stuck to their own.

For the L/N family, they had come from money. Their wealth bought their freedom from the vampires. For the two children in the family they'd never have to fear being human. For the eldest, Alexander, he wished to continue their bloodline to ensure there was a truce between the vampires and the humans of their family. But for the youngest, Y/N, she wished to become a vampire and when she was younger, her parents made a deal with the Mikaelsons to ensure her status would carry over as a Vampire.

While most girls in her age dreamed of becoming something of themselves in the world that was created around them, Y/N wanted nothing more than to be a vampire. One that wanted to change things for the better. And the way the L/Ns had it, their children were going to mend bridges.

Unfortunately, the matriarchs of the L/Ns were killed in an accident that left them as orphans. Alexander being the eldest was given the burden of being the head of household and he uncovered his parents' secrets. Before their death, his parents made a deal with another Vampire. And with their death, it broke the deal between them. It left them on the verge of bankruptcy and being tossed in with the other humans.

Y/N stood outside the double wooden doors as she listened to the muffled sounds of her brother arguing with a vampire. Alexander was in there for more than an hour speaking with the vampire that held the deal with their parents. Seeing as it was a matter for the head of house, Y/N couldn’t be in the room. But where she stood she could pick up on her fair share of things.

Most of it had been about money, or the lack thereof. Being in debt to a vampire left any human feeling unease and Alexander was no different. Especially as he looked across the table at Tristan De Martel. If there was one thing they learned, the De Martels were the downgrades of the Mikaelsons. Where the Mikaelsons held their deals in good faith, the De Martels could find a loophole within the contract to work in their favor. And that was what happened with their parents.

Y/N’s heart dropped when she heard her name being brought up in the conversation. While She couldn’t hear what was being said, she knew it had upset her brother. His voice had raised while the vampire’s remained calm. The longer her brother yelled, the more worry filled her. And the words she picked up on hadn’t made anything easier.

When the doors opened, a chill ran through Y/N as she looked over at her brother, attempting to ignore the way Tristan had gazed at her as he walked passed. The look on her brother’s face had told her this wasn’t the end of things. That the conversation he just had wasn’t an easy one and he was left with hardly any choices.

“Were you able to come to an agreement?” She asked as soon as she knew Tristian would be out of earshot, even for a vampire.

Alexander nodded as he ran his hand over his face. “One that I do not fully agree on.”

“Well?” She asked after a moment of her brother not saying anything. While she may have been able to pick up on bits and pieces of the conversation, it wasn’t everything she needed to know. And when her brother hesitated once more fear filled her.

“What did you promise the De Martels?” She asked as she took a step towards him. He didn’t know how to answer her. Not when it had to do with her. But the guilt she saw written on his face had told her everything, causing her to shake her head. “No.”

“I’m sorry Y/N.” He said as he kept his eyes on hers, even as they filled with tears.

Y/N took a step back in disbelief. “No.” She repeated. “Please tell me you didn’t.”

“I had no other choice.” He said as he watched the tears form in her eyes.

“I have a deal with the Mikaelsons, you can’t just go and make a deal with the De Martels to hand me over.”

“If it means keeping our family name in good standing, I’ll do what is needed.” He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. But they had been true. Tristan had offered a deal and Alexander jumped on it. Tristan would clear the family’s debt and void out his parents contract if he got Y/N in return.

“You’ve sentenced me to die.” Anger began building within her. “Tristian’s humans never last.”

“You were going to die anyway.” He responded quickly, earning a hard slap across his face.

“On my terms!” She yelled. “Not by the hands of a vampire that keeps his own psychotic sister locked up! When Elijah finds out-”

“Your ties with Elijah no longer matter. Yes he gave our parents his word that you would join them. Your infatuation with each other sealing that deal. But this decision can’t be easily taken back and you know that.”

While they both know going against either families was a risk. But with the De Martels, there was a deadline that was fast approaching them. Y/N ran her hand along her face and shook her head as she turned away from her brother. She couldn’t handle this.

“Elijah might know how to get-” Before Y/N could even finish her sentence, her brother knocked her over the head with the nearest object he could reach, leaving her unconscious.

"I'm sorry, Y/N." He said as he crouched down beside her. "But I refuse to become one of them."

_____

The De Martels knew what Y/N would ment to the Mikaelsons. She was to be their saving grace. A chance to mend the world with siblings as a Vampire and her Human brother. She was also Elijah’s soon to be wife. Tristan knew he was playing a dangerous game. And because he knew her worth, he kept her hidden, away from any prying eyes that could possibly leak where she was.

Much like the other humans in De Martel's care, she had been drugged, used and abused by those within Tristan's circle. As she laid in the dark damp cell, all she wanted was to die. Her colorful dreams of the future faded to black and white wishes of death and peace as time passed.

Anger had filled Elijah the moment he stopped by to see Y/N and Alexander told him what happened. While furious with her brother he knew he'd always keep his word to Y/N to not ever harm him. It took him over a month to find Y/N's whereabouts. The moment he had her location there was no stopping him.

Elijah stormed through the De Martel home. Anyone that dared to stand against him had their hearts ripped out in a split of a second. Bodies and hearts had been left in his wake as he made his way through. Each one brought him closer to finding Y/N.

When the door keeping her in was forced open, Y/N whimpered in fear at the sound, unable to see who walked in from her position. She hadn't even begun to heal from the last time that door opened. But even as the footsteps neared, she couldn't get herself to move, her body too weak to try. Panic filled her as the footsteps ceased right next to her.

"Shh, shh," Elijah began, trying to keep Y/N calm. "It's me."

As he did, it wasn't hard to see how beaten and bruised she had been. Bite marks covered her body in several places. He had never felt so much anger before at seeing her injuries.

"'Lijah." It had been a whisper, but he heard it loud and clear.

"I got you. I promise I'm going to take care of you, okay?" He had every intention of never letting her leave his sight. He even made the promise to himself that he'd kill the De Martels with his own two hands.

But before the comfort and relief of being free set in, Y/N was rudely awakened by the sound of the door opening and shutting by the unwelcome guest.

Always and Forever Tags:

@taylordrunkonwhiskey @thewolf-and-thesheep @wayward-dan @neeadinghugs @fafulous @kenmen02 @elizamonet @dora-the-grownup @mschellehitt @xanderling @fandom-princess-forevermore @buckysarm4 @hi-my-name-is-riley @helenasingers @alka16555 @hellotvshowtrash @dpaccione @dumble-daddy @theactressstaringinyourbaddream @maldita-world @nikmikaelsonswife

Stag Tag:

@elejah-wonderland @xxsovereignsarayaxx @asiaaisa77 @astudyoftimeywimeystuff @marvel-at-stucky

The Originals Tag:

@zillahvathek @obsessedwithvampires @mikaelson-emma

Bold tags mean for one reason or another I cannot tag you in this. If you would like to be added or taken off the Tag list please do so here

[donnerpartyofone]

hello, friends. today is an extremely stressful day for probably most people who follow this blog. personally, i'm staying a little disconnected, partially because i know it's going to be forever before a conclusion is reached, but also because it's so hard for me to be hopeful. wishing for a different president than the one we have is one thing, but there is also a wish to be able to stop feeling the way many of us have been forced to feel every day for the last four years; the relief of being allowed to stop listening to and thinking about that one individual would be immeasurable. i'm a little afraid to love this thought, and find myself heartbroken. note that i'm not looking forward to Hope and Change, just this one crucial psychic difference. I'm not going to debate whether donald trump and joe biden are fundamentally the same, in that democrats have just as much generalized blood on their hands as republicans. the problem with trump is in what he does to people emotionally. if he were to drop dead this instant, like i pray to god for every single day, mike pence would never inspire and galvanize the same mouthbreathing knuckledragging fuckfaces in the same violent way. having joe biden in the seat of ultimate power would not inflame the same kinds of general public feelings that it is openly permissible to shoot up a synagogue or beat black people to death in the streets, that "many fine people" are capable of these things. even accepting the allegations of rape against biden, i do not believe there are roid-raging frat boys out there who will look up to him and feel encouraged by his success to ramp up their crimes against women. the inflammatory psychic signals that come from trump specifically create their own problems in this country, separate of the legislative corruption and stagnation that we still suffer under the democratic party. politely stifled, appropriately embarrassed bigotry is radically different in character and effect than bigotry that is stroked and fluffed and trotted out on tv by a cartoon father figure who literally makes the rules for everybody. trump, specifically, has to go.

so what do i do with myself, with the conflict between my cynicism about america's ability to progress and my inexpressible rage against what must change? well, sometimes, i toy with elaborate id release fantasies about how i think trump should die. i mean, that would really be the optimal event here, but it would be important that he die in a really humiliating way that makes it hard for his constituents to keep identifying themselves with the idea of him.

i mean, none of this should ever happen in real life, because that would be cruel and hateful of course, and we're not supposed to wish unhappiness on others. but some of these ideas give my nervous brain just the massage it needs to get me through my day.

you know, i mean, i can imagine it would be good if he were like, jacking off to gay tickle porn and had an aneurysm and shat all over himself and it glued all his tickle feathers all over him and the violent paroxysm contorted him into such an idiotic shape that they couldn't remove the frilly bonnet and giant baby rattle from his rigor mortised body before hauling him through the streets in front of everybody to the city dump.

in my imagination, it would be really cool if he were coming down an escalator with a banana in one hand and a corn cob in the other and he choked while slurping on both of them and toppled over and fell right on top of his head which cracked like an egg and his pants split and revealed his many pink and purple layers of spanking welts to the entire press corps.

in my imagination, it would be terrific if it were discovered that he got a dominatrix clown wearing a patchwork pantsuit and blonde bob wig to peg him as hard as possible with a strap-on shaped like a toy gun that shot out a big BANG! flag at the peak of the action, ripping through his colon and out of his dickhole with such force that it caused his entire lower portion to explode like a blood blister, leaving only the flag flapping in the wind before the live audience of a facebook feed that the clown was secretly running the whole time.

sometimes my imagination skips the accidental circumstances and just pictures him as the subject of a mass public execution; i mean like, he's found guilty of assholism by the royal court of the entire galaxy, and he has to get in the middle of a desolate field, and every single person who wants to gets to come and burn him with cigarettes and rip little chunks off of him with nail clippers and stab him with the spines from those anti-rape condoms that burrow in further when you try to remove them, until he falls on the ground and we can all stomp all over him until he looks like a bunch of yogurt, but he's still alive and waving his little baby fists in the air and weeping in a really stupid little way that makes it impossible to feel sorry for him, so he can appreciate it when we get a long chain of elderly lesbians to come stand over his face and piss all over his open wounds, and then nature gets in on the act because carnivorous fire ants are attracted to the smell of his blood and they crawl through his tattered clothing to his hilarious little genitals and inject waves of chemical pain into his crotch to radiate throughout his entire body while gorgeous models stand around pointing and guffawing at the size and shape of his mutilated joke of a member, and then jackals and vultures come, unable to wait until he's dead, and start rippping him apart like monkey bread, and parasitic wasps nest in the festering remains, and he is still conscious, and by some divine magic he remains conscious until every single cell has been separated from the others and ground into the barren earth beneath him, which we finally spread with gasoline and set on fire. that would be really ideal.

sometimes it makes me feel better to just imagine him in the most irretrievably degraded state possible, in which every single shred of his being is individually punished to the fullest extent possible for his appalling and totally irredeemable existence that has been destructive to practically the whole entire world including people who like him. i think maybe the one thing that the right has over the left is their acceptance of the power of hate. in the extremely disturbing and eye-opening documentary FEELS GOOD MAN, about the internet's conversion of innocent cartoon character pepe the frog into a fascist icon, modern druid john michael greer makes a fascinating observation about how the pepe episode is a demonstration of sigil magic, in which a symbol facilitates the intense concentration of passionate hatred, so that it can be weaponized in a focused laser-like fashion against the object of this hatred, and used to scaffold the success of the object's adversary--namely trump. many people have theorized that the remarkable focus of feeling that was achieved within the chan boards during 2016 was, in one way or another, directly responsible for the outcome of the election. i guess i wish that the left were capable of this same kind of mass ritual, to stop the in-fighting and the moral purity tests, and pool our collective hatred in the same satisfying way that we've seen the right do--just to share the dream of it. i mean, why not? it's just emotional catharsis. it's just the power of the imagination. it can't hurt anybody. it's not like our congealed desires could spin themselves into a massive psychic megaton rocket aimed directly at the entire fate of the worst person on the planet. so let fly, indulge yourself a little. add your notes to this post, whydontcha. things can't get any worse!

[lastbluetardis]

Home for the Holidays (1/2)

This is part one of my gift to @timeladyelpia for the @dwsecretsanta gift exchange! Apologies for the delay; I hope you enjoy this! Your info said you enjoy reunions and established relationships, so that’s what this is :)

Ten x Rose, 4400 words, teen

Also tagging @doctorroseprompts 

Summary: Despite being locked away in different universes, the Doctor and Rose have managed to stay connected through their marriage bond, celebrating holidays and special events even through the impenetrable distance. After celebrating three Christmases apart, fate brings them together once more just in time for the holidays.

Note: If anybody remembers this little ficlet (If Only in My Dreams) I wrote for last year’s Ficmas, I borrowed from that idea and wrote the reunion. However, you do NOT need to have read that in order to understand this.

AO3

The holidays were one of the hardest times for the Doctor. Though he didn’t naturally celebrate—at least not any Earth or human holiday—Rose had. Oh, he would join in the festivities with his past companions, wishing them Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Joyous Festivus, or whatever holiday they in particular celebrated, but he was always on the outside looking in.

But all of that had changed when he’d met Rose, when he regenerated into his current body and left her and the Earth to fend for themselves during a Sycorax invasion while he was—helpfully—in a regenerative coma. All on Christmas Day.

When it all had blown over—blown up, more like it, thanks to Harriet Jones, former Prime Minister—he had strangely been invited to Christmas dinner at the Tylers’. Even more strangely, he’d said yes. After he changed, of course. He couldn’t very well have Christmas dinner in his borrowed jimjams. No, he’d gone back to his TARDIS and found himself a new outfit before heading back up to Rose and her mother.

Even now, remembering the look of appreciation in Rose’s eyes when she beheld him in his new suit sent butterflies through his stomach.

He had stayed for dinner and the snow-that-wasn’t-snow and for dessert. And even once that was finished, once the food was cleared away and the dishes piled high in the sink for the following morning, he hadn’t wanted to leave quite yet. So he had accepted Rose’s invitation to sleep on the sofa for the night. Not that Time Lords needed much sleep. (However, newly-regenerated Time Lord could certainly use a nap.)

He had spent the next couple weeks with the Tylers, which was virtually unheard of for him. But the TARDIS had been in no shape to fly, thanks to whatever jiggery-pokery Rose had done to the old girl to look into her heart to become the Bad Wolf. And thanks to his less-than-stellar driving while his brain was imploding and collapsing during some regeneration complications. 

No matter, he had been able to get his beloved ship flying again a week or so after the New Year. In the interim, between TARDIS repairs, he had reconnected with Rose. Answering all of her questions regarding regeneration. Filling in the gaps of her memory during her time as Bad Wolf. Recounting all of their adventures together to prove to her, without a doubt, that he was still the Doctor. Still her Doctor, though he’d never exactly stated it as such.

(Little did he know then that Rose had already considered him her Doctor. She later confessed to him that his earnest attempts to convince her of his identity had been endearing.)

On the evening before he and Rose were to depart for the stars once more, Rose had stayed up late with him in Jackie’s living room and had presented him with a small package. She had seemed slightly embarrassed or self-conscious as he ripped into the brown-paper-wrapped parcel; she had begun rambling about traditions and new beginnings and something about “together”, which he very much liked to think about. He liked the idea of him and Rose together forever.

Upon indelicately ripping off the wrapping paper, he saw a simple white box. When he removed the lid, a Christmas ornament lay nestled in a soft bed of shredded cotton. His hearts had constricted in his chest as he pulled out the ornament, two penguins clad in hats and scarves leaning in to touch the tips of their beaks together. Beneath, in an elegant script, were the words “The Doctor + Rose’s First Christmas” and the year.

“I know it’s silly,” Rose said, still looking anywhere but him. “Christmas is over now, and it’s not like we even had a tree in the TARDIS to put it on, but I saw it and couldn’t resist. Obviously, I wrote in our names. Not many ornaments have ‘the Doctor’ written on ‘em.”

He pulled her into his arms, silencing her words. “It’s perfect,” he said through the lump in his throat. “Tell you what. We can put it up on the tree next Christmas. And get another ornament to go with it. Eh? Can be a tradition.”

Rose wrinkled her nose. “You put up a Christmas tree in that box of yours?”

“Not usually,” he admitted. “But you celebrate Christmas. I want the TARDIS to feel like home for you, and if celebrating all of your little human holidays makes it feel like home, then I want to celebrate with you, however you’d like. If you’d like.”

Her expression softened and she smiled shyly at him. “The TARDIS is already my home, Doctor.”

The admission both floored and delighted him. A big, beaming grin split his face in two, and the echoing expression lit up her face too.

He very nearly kissed her then, and he spent the rest of the night, after Rose had gone to bed, cursing himself for not seizing the opportunity.

No matter. They got there eventually, after a few hiccups in the road.

By the time their second Christmas rolled around, they were an actual proper couple, and they went shopping together not only for their first Christmas tree, but also for the companion to the penguin ornament. They’d decided on two polar bears decorating a Christmas tree together, snouts pressed together in a supposed kiss.

They had bought other decorations as well, but they displayed their couples’ ornaments proudly on the front of the tree, making sure no branches, lights, or baubles obscured them from view.

“I wonder how long it’ll take before we have enough couples’ ornaments to decorate the tree just with them,” Rose mused as they de-decked their tree after the holidays. “Ages and ages, I’ll bet.”

“Well, it’s a good thing we’ve got ages and ages,” he replied, a goofy grin on his face. “Forever, in fact.”

And they did. They had forever together. Whatever Rose had done as Bad Wolf had changed her at the cellular level. Her body wasn’t breaking down at all; it had enough regenerative energy—courtesy of the TARDIS—to replenish any aged and dying cells before they turned hazardous. For all intents and purposes, she would live just as long as the Doctor. Longer, perhaps.

Upon realizing what that meant for them, for their future together, they decided to bind themselves together in every way possible. One soul in two bodies. At least, that was how Rose had liked to think of it when he had explained the telepathic marriage bond. An open channel between them, their minds, allowing them to see the most intimate parts of the other.

There had been no one the Doctor had wanted to share that sort of connection with, apart from Rose. There had never been anyone like her before—nobody he loved as deeply, fiercely, wholly, eternally—and there would never be anyone like her again.

Not even now that she was gone.

It had been over three years since Torchwood. Since Canary Wharf. Since the Daleks and Cybermen and parallel worlds and Void breaches that ended with the multiverse being saved, but with Rose being trapped permanently in another world.

In those first few moments, as he watched the Void breach fold in on itself like a crumpled piece of paper, the Doctor had held his breath and tensed for the inevitable slash of pain in his mind as his bond with Rose broke. But when a minute passed, then two, then ten and his bond with Rose was still there, he relaxed a fraction.

The anguish and desperation clanging from her half of the bond was what kept him sane, funnily enough. Regardless of their mutual devastation, the fact that he could still feel her in his mind meant he hadn’t truly lost her. She wasn’t truly gone. He wasn’t truly alone.

It had taken months for them to adapt and adjust to their new reality. Time moved around them differently; Pete’s World, as he’d dubbed it, moved slightly faster than their prime universe. And time didn’t really exist in the TARDIS. However, they tried to sync their internal body clocks with each other, to sleep and eat and relax at the same time to make up for the fact that they weren’t physically with each other.

Despite having his wife in his head at all times, he still missed her. He missed her more with every passing day. Nevertheless, they had coped as best they could.

However, the holidays still hurt. It hurt to try to celebrate with Rose when she was—literally—worlds away. Universes away. It hurt to go out and get a Christmas tree. It hurt to decorate it. But above all, it hurt to pick out and purchase their couples’ ornament alone. He’d had to pick out the last three on his own, and if his calculations were correct—which they were, because he was quite brilliant—he would be needing to go out and buy a new one soon. Their sixth overall, the fourth he would buy alone.

Despite Rose’s confidence in the Dimension Cannon—a clever bit of technology that the Torchwood researchers and engineers in Pete’s World had been developing for well over a year now—it seemed as though the Cannon hadn’t worked enough to bring her back to this world in time for Christmas.

But he didn’t care when she came home. He just cared that she did come home. One day.

He had been skeptical of the Cannon when Rose first informed him of its creation, but now that it began showing signs of life—acting as a crude teleport—he was cautiously optimistic that one day it would work. Once he or any of the Torchwood scientists managed to figure out how to poke a hole through the Void, through the fabric of reality, large enough for Rose to squeeze through, but small enough that the entire microcosm of the multiverse didn’t implode in the process. It was a delicate balancing act.

However, now that Rose was busy testing the Dimension Cannon, letting it blast her to whatever corner of her universe it fancied, their bond was a little more strained and out of sync. It had nearly given him a hearts-attack when she went utterly silent one day, only to reappear in his mind hours later as though nothing had happened.

She had since taken to warning him about when she was planning a Cannon jump so he wouldn’t be alarmed if she disappeared from his head for a few hours. Though he appreciated it, it didn’t stop his anxiety from squeezing a tight band around his chest. Every time her half of the bond went quiet, he feared he would never hear from her again.

Inevitably, though, she always returned. She would always return.

He had taken to running errands on the days she did her Cannon jumps. Not only did it distract him from the silence in his head, but it gave him a break from trying to keep his body clock synced with Rose’s. He didn’t need to concern himself about when or where he went, or for how long.

On one particular day in the beginning of December—for Rose, at least… Pete’s World had gotten completely out of sync with their universe by now—the Doctor had decided to visit Ghealach, a small moon on the other end of the galaxy that was basically a junk shop masquerading as a bazaar. The unique feature of Ghealach, however, was that it was utterly psy-null. Telepathy was strictly forbidden as a security measure; the shop owners didn’t want a telepathic being creeping into their heads to swindle them out of money and supplies.

As such, if the Doctor were to go to Ghealach, it meant his bond with Rose would be silenced.

I’ll be there for just a few hours, he told her that morning. I should be done by the time you’re back, but in the event that I’m not, I don’t want you to worry.

Thanks for telling me. Stay safe, Doctor.

He snorted. I’m not the one blasting myself to the gods know where.

He got the impression she was sticking her tongue out at him, and so he rolled his eyes right back.

Be safe, he murmured, passing a kiss and a caress down their bond.

He piloted himself to Ghealach but stayed in the TARDIS until Rose’s presence faded from his mind, indicating she’d gone on her jump.

Wearily, the Doctor rubbed at his eyes and at the dull throb that pulsed behind his temples. Ignoring the ache, he grabbed his overcoat, swung it around his shoulders, and exited the TARDIS.

Ghealach was bustling with activity. All sorts of creatures were buying and selling, bartering and trading. While he usually loved the atmosphere—all of those people, all that life—he couldn’t stomach it today.

So he moved with a purpose, knowing where he could find the parts that he needed to fix the TARDIS. Well, not exactly fix, as nothing was technically broken. But the mechanisms behind the fine-tune precision needed for landing at the coordinates he set must be going a bit faulty. He was landing in an incorrect time or location more often than usual.

If Rose were there, she would’ve teased him about his poor piloting skills.

Pushing that thought aside, the Doctor strode from tent to tent, turning out his pockets to exchange whatever baubles and trinkets and bits of alien tech he happened to have.

It took nearly two hours, but he finally had all of the pieces he had sought out to find, plus a few extra bits he didn’t need but might one day have use for.

It took another half hour or wandering to find the TARDIS again. He hadn’t realized how far he had wandered into the labyrinthine stalls of the market. But he finally beheld his glorious ship. It was odd not to hear her welcoming hum as he approached. Even his bond with his ship was muted on this moon.

He slid his key into the lock and turned it, pushing the door inward. Her central rotor gleamed in welcome and the lights flickered between bright and dull. As soon as he closed the door behind him, leaving the psy-null territory, he felt his ship’s utter joy and delight.

“I missed you too,” he cooed to his ship, affectionately rubbing one of the coral struts as he draped his coat across it.

It was only when he’d skipped up to the center console that he realized his ship wasn’t the sole presence in his mind.

Oh! You’re back earlier than I thought, he said, cringing. Sorry, love. Didn’t think I'd be on that moon for so long.

“Doctor.”

Her voice was faint and breathless, and the Doctor clenched his jaw; it sounded as though she was right beside him. He was getting bombarded with a mixture of emotions, strong ones at that. Stronger than he usually felt from their strained bond.

What’s the matter? Everything all right? Jump go okay?

“It’s you… It’s really, actually you.”

He frowned at the display controls of his ship as he worked on sending her into flight. Rose was coming across clearly. He could read every thread of thought and emotion: disbelief, confusion, love, hurt, happiness, desperation. All of it. Everything that was going on inside that beautiful head of hers was broadcast for him to see.

But if he could sense her so easily, then that meant…

Where are you? he asked, frantically tugging the display screen so close to his face that his nose nearly brushed it. He typed at the keyboard fervently, even though he had no coordinates to input. I’ll find you, Rose. I will find you. Gods, you’re here. Where are you? I’ll find you.

A choked sob sounded from his wife, and he reached into himself, into their bond, to cradle her close. A maelstrom hit him, and he couldn’t seem to soothe her, no matter how much comfort and love he swaddled her in.

I know, love. I know. We’re so close. All these years and you’ve finally done it. You’re brilliant, you are. We’re so close now. Just tell me where you are and I’ll come get you and bring you home. But I need to know where you are.

“Turn around.”

Turn around? What? Where are you, Rose? I need as much information as you can give me so I can find you.

“Turn. Around.”

His mind was still churning even as something—someone—touched his shoulder. Fingers gripped his shoulder hard and tugged. Spinning on his heel, his jaw slackened as he beheld the blonde standing before him. Rose. His wife. His bondmate. His everything.

“Rose?” he croaked, clenching his hands into fists at his side.

She looked nearly the same as the day he’d lost her. The planes of her face had sharpened, the roundness of youth having faded over the years, and her hair was a gentler shade of blonde, seemingly professionally dyed rather than a cheap bit of bleaching product she found in the shops.

His eyes roved across her face hungrily, urgently willing her to be real, as his mind sought her out. He hadn’t realized how muffled their bond had become, separated as they were through universes, but now it was in perfect focus, at full power. It was as though a radio station that had been staticky was now tuned.

And all of the emotions swirling through both of their minds was being broadcast on all frequencies. Shock and disbelief and tentative, delicate hope.

“Oh, Doctor!”

Rose launched herself at him, pulling him from his stupor. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, holding her as close as he could. Her warm, small body contoured to his, pressing against every inch of him until there was no space left between them.

Her hands scrabbled at his back, searching for better purchase to cling to him. He buried his nose into the soft spot where her shoulder met her neck and breathed in deeply, inhaling the smell of her. She smelled like energy and electricity, but beneath that was the familiar scent of Rose. Of home.

“What… How…?”

“It worked,” she said, her voice warbling. “The Cannon… it worked. With a bit of help. Needed a bit of alien tech to help brace the Void open, then close it up behind me. Some friendly aliens helped out with that. Though they said the fabric of that reality was already fragile. Not sure what that was about. Torchwood promised to look into it, and I said we’d look into it from this side of things.”

“Fragile?” he asked, pulling away from her. “How can the fabric of reality become ‘fragile’?”

Rose looked like she was about to open her mouth, perhaps to offer her input, but the Doctor realized he didn’t particularly want to talk about the fabric of reality or the universe or anything that wasn’t Rose.

He shook his head and cradled Rose’s jaw in her palm, brushing his thumb against her lower lip. She sighed, her warm breath ghosting across his hand.

“I’ve missed you,�� he rasped, raking his eyes over her face to recommit every detail to memory. She was even more beautiful, more breathtaking, than he remembered. “So much, Rose. There wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t miss you. And I know we were never truly apart, but…”

Rose rocked up onto her toes, fisted her hands in the lapels of his suit, and tugged him down until their mouths met in a hard kiss. All thoughts left his mind as he lost himself in her. The taste of her, the touch of her, the smell of her, the sound of her, the sight of her. His senses were utterly overwhelmed by her, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. Pleasure sparked through his veins as their lips moved together in a familiar rhythm of pulling and yielding, sliding and gliding.

A full-body shudder rippled down his spine as his mouth parted for her probing tongue. The little whimper she let out weakened his knees and he stumbled back a step until his backside pressed against the central console of the TARDIS.

Rose followed, not breaking the kiss. The Doctor braced himself against the console, more than willing to let Rose cage him in, resting her weight against his. Their bodies moved together, rocking and writhing as their hands explored every inch of each other that they’d been deprived of for three and a half years.

“I missed you,” he murmured between frantic kisses. “I love you.”

I love you, he whispered into her mind. His half of the bond wrapped around her half even tighter than his body wrapped around hers, needing to feel her everywhere, needing to hold her close to convince himself that this was real, that she was real, and that she was here with him.

“I’m here,” she mumbled against his mouth. I’m here. I’m back. I came back. I love you. I love you.

Her hands moved restlessly across his body, alternating between pressing into the small of his back and his hair. Desire rippled through him as their hips and legs tangled together, rubbing and grinding and relishing all of the sensations they’d been deprived of for these many long years.

Sure, they’d had the mental presence of each other during their separation, but no number of mental embraces could replace a real hug, of being ensconced in another’s arms, two bodies inhabiting one space.

A deep groan rumbled up the Doctor’s chest as he devoured Rose’s mouth. The bedroom was too far away for the utter need throbbing through them both. Hastily removing all necessary pieces of clothing, they joined together on the raggedy old jump seat. Their bodies moved as one, touching and kissing and teasing and tasting until their coupling culminated in the pinnacle of pleasure and love.

Afterwards, they sat slumped together, panting for breath and clinging to each other. The Doctor skated his fingertips up and down the smooth expanse of Rose’s spine. She still had her shirt on, and the fabric bunched and fell with every up and down motion of his hand.

“I love you,” he said groggily, pressing a series of kisses to the column of her throat. His mind was blissfully blank and full of Rose. She was everywhere, filling the deep, dark expanse of his mind with her light and warmth.

“You feel so good,” she sighed, nuzzling closer physically and mentally. “I hadn’t realized how faint our bond had become. But now… God.”

“Mmm,” he hummed in agreement. Then he asked the question that had slowly been eating away at him. “How long were you waiting in here? How did you even find the ship? That moon… you wouldn’t have been able to feel her—or me.”

“Maybe a half hour,” Rose said. “Felt like an eternity. But then I reminded myself that I was lucky enough to have found the TARDIS at all. I would’ve been devastated to know I’d landed here but just missed you.”

He would’ve been devastated too. Even more horrifying was the idea that Rose wouldn’t even have been able to reach out for him to tell him where she was, what with that telepathic dampener suppressing their bond.

“But I was just wandering around when I found the TARDIS,” Rose continued. “I nearly walked right by her at first, ‘cos I didn’t think the jump had actually worked. I figured I was on an alien planet in that other universe. But then I walked past her and the door just… clicked open. That’s when I turned and saw her, and I ran right in.

“But then I wasn’t sure which version of you it would be. Everything about the TARDIS looked the same, so I figured I wasn’t too far off. Then I was beginning to think about how I would explain everything if it was a past you. Especially if it was a past you who hadn’t met me yet; how on Earth would I explain to you who I was and why you needed to help me.”

“The marriage bond would’ve been proof enough,” he assured her, tapping at his temple for emphasis. “The bond transcends time, through regenerations, past and present. No matter which version of me walked through those doors, I would have known who you are.”

“Thank God it was you,” she said. “Though for a minute there I thought I went mad and was invisible.”

He offered her a sheepish grin. “Sorry. I didn’t think to look around the TARDIS. I didn’t expect anyone to be in here.”

She smirked at him, then nestled her head into the crook of his neck, letting out a sated sigh Despite the sound of utter contentment, she murmured, “We should get up.”

“Or we could stay here like this forever,” he countered.

“As wonderful as that sounds, my legs are going half numb,” she retorted. “And I feel disgusting. I could use a shower, if you’d care to join me?”

His belly swooped in renewed desire as he nodded fervently. Rose grinned at him, her tongue poking teasingly out of the corner of her mouth. He pinched her bum for her cheek, causing her to shriek with laughter and swat at his hand.

A daft grin settled across his face at the sound. Oh, how he’d missed her.

He couldn’t help but lean up to plant a row of tiny kisses across her jaw, beginning at the sensitive skin beneath her ear and working his way to the corner of her mouth. He felt her cheek lift in a smile as her hand went to the back of his head to keep him where he was. As if he would ever wish to stop kissing her.

“Shower?” he mumbled against her skin, slowly making a path down her neck.

“Mhm,” she hummed distractedly.

He laughed softly and pressed a final kiss to the hollow of her throat. “Come on. Let’s get cleaned up.”

Rose heaved a great sigh but dutifully lifted herself off of his lap to stand on wobbly legs. He followed suit, and they each fixed their jumble of half-off clothing before they moved, hand in hand, down the corridor of their home.

Part Two (the Christmas fluff) coming soon!

[evien-stark]

✧I Need You✧ Chapter 53

“We’re okay-” “Are you okay?!” “We’re okay- right??” “Honey please- tell me you’re okay-”

“I’m okay-...” Your voice waned in amongst the others yelling. It took you a moment as the lights were still coming back on to decipher who was saying what. Or where you even were. What was going on.

Tony was shouting in your ear. Trying to get you to respond because clearly he had no idea where you were or what your condition was. Made sense. But the other voice-

Pushing yourself half up, feeling the creak in your muscles, you saw Natasha in the half darkness beside you. On a different channel, Fury was barking orders to anyone who was listening. Other agents, too. Talking about the ship. The ship was under attack, and in bad shape.

“Stark, you copy?”

“Give me a minute!”

Taking a breath you forced out your own sense of command. “LUNA, silence SHIELD channel.”

“Got it!”

“Tony, I’m fine- do what you need to do.” You had to let him know this, even if it wasn’t entirely true. You couldn’t have him immobilized trying to find you. Not when he was probably the only one who could fix the ship.

“I’m coming for you right after. Get somewhere safe. Promise me.”

“I promise.”

Now all you had to do to fulfill that promise was figure out where you were, what the situation was, and where safe was. But let you worry about that. Not him. With that out of the way you pushed yourself further up on your forearms, pulling your knees up beneath you to sit up. Getting your vision to work, you saw Nat again, this time correctly. Her leg was pinned underneath a heavy pipe.

“Nat-”

She waved a hand at you and then pointed back, and you looked. Finally the other sound in the room registered. Not the sound of burst steam pipes. But the hissing and pained groans of Bruce. And that meant… She spoke up, “Doctor… Bruce, you gotta fight it. This is what Loki wants. We’re gonna be okay, listen to me...”

With less than two brain cells working, you did the only thing that made sense. You tap-tapped the Heart Reactor, suiting up. But you unreleased the helmet. A human face was needed for this. Because you were all about to be in very serious danger. Extending a hand, “Bruce, we’re okay. We’re fine. We’re gonna get out of here. Just take a breath.”

Natasha followed up, “We’re gonna be okay, right? I swear on my life, I swear I will get you out of this. You will walk away and never-”

“Your life?!” The voice that snarled this sounded so much different from the Bruce Banner you’d just gotten to know.

Such incredible, overwhelming anger choked you, like a hand around your neck. It made it hard to think, hard to do much of anything as you watched Bruce morph, his clothes rip, and crawl jaggedly away into the nearby darkness. Listened to him growl and shout. Turning into… well…

Once you finally found a breath you crouched down beside Natasha, easily lifting the metal from her leg. “We have to go.”

Looking up at you, you were stabbed by her terror next. Eyes wide. “You have to-” An inhuman roar cut her off, and as you forced her to standing, the two of you looked back. Which was a mistake. That giant beast was standing there in Bruce’s place. And the second he locked on the two of you he roared. “Go- go!” She shoved you into moving.

Up the ladder closest. You don’t think you’d ever moved so fast in your life. And the second she was up there with you, you felt the vibration of the stairs being crushed in an iron grip. Taking her hand, you ripped down the catwalk along beams and wires.

Survival. It was the only thing you knew. Just keep running. Keep running because there was no hope to fight that thing-

A hand reached up, crushing one of the metal grates under you and Nat shoved you to the side, catching one of the railings and pushing you further into a small crawl space. Then she nudged you further to keep going, crouching beneath a set of thick pipes that led out finally into a wider space where the two of you slowed to a quiet crawl.

Her hand was in yours as she led you through the maze of pipes. It was dead silent. And you knew it had to stay that way. It seemed to be the worst thing in the world when she let go of your hand to draw her gun and then motioned you to follow. Quiet. Stay quiet.

So you held your breath as the two of you walked further into this maze- the engine room’s innards, you guessed. But it all came to a stop when the two of you turned a corner and caught sight of the Hulk who roared, scaring you into what felt like a heart attack. All sense stopped. But not Natasha’s, as she aimed her gun up to fire at canister up near the ceiling, releasing a bunch of steam.

“GO!”

She practically threw you in front of her, the both of you taking off in a sprint as those roars came closer, as the floor vibrated harder. The sound of glass shattering and metal bending grew closer and closer. Where were you running? When would it end? What would the Hulk do if he caught you?

Just when you thought you were reaching the end, sparks flying everywhere, a sweep of his arm caught you both in the side, sending you to the nearest beam in a crumple, her half on top of you. Pain throbbed in just about every part of your body and it felt like your consciousness wanted to go again- but you couldn’t.

The Hulk was inching further. Growling. Huffing. Fists clenched. Sitting up, you tried desperately to get to your feet. If you could just put yourself between them-

Thankfully, someone more heroic than you came to save the day.

The Hulk was knocked back through the wall into another room entirely. Far away from the both of you. It left you sagging back, Natasha doing much the same. How nice it would have been to just stay there. It seemed impossible to catch your own breath.

“You have to go...” Nat’s voice was shaking.

“We’ll go-” You didn’t know where, but you didn’t want her to think you’d just abandon her.

“No. You have to go. You have to stop him. You’re the only one who can.” The way she looked at you cut you to your core.

Bruce had been right.

SHIELD had brought you here for him.

“What if I can’t?”

“That’s not an option.”

The longer you looked at her the more it hurt. This wasn’t your friend Natasha, who went out with you for dinner and a drink some evenings. This was your superior agent, or perhaps your superior Avengers team member, reminding you of your place and of your duty.

It took everything in you to not cry. Instead you forced a nod and got to your feet. “What about you?”

Even though you offered your hand to her, she knocked it away lightly. “I’m gonna… I need to stay here a minute.” She was probably hurt, lucky if her ribs weren’t broken.

Yours might have been, but you were used to walking that off now. The two of you shared one last look and then you gave a curt nod and turned on heel to follow the noise of chaos. Destruction. Walking out into a hangar bay where fighter jets were torn to pieces like it was nothing. Ahead there was a hole in the ceiling, so you engaged thrust and followed it all the way up.

“Lady! Do not get involved!” Thor seemed just as hurt and worn down.

The Hulk was standing by the large windows of an observation deck. And just as you entered, that rage settled on you.

“He’s far too powerful for you, let me handle this!”

You put a hand up behind you to try and silence him, because for this you’d need the quietest quiet in the world, and with all the alarms going off inside the helicarrier there was no way to get it. But you still had to try.

Going deep. Deep. You didn’t know enough about what made Bruce this way- but if SHIELD wanted you to do something about it, and if Bruce had thought you were out to keep him in check, it had to do with his emotions. That bleeding, oozing anger that you’d felt. You had to curb that.

But what you found in that darkness was not what you were used to.

It wasn’t one person standing there in front of you-

There were two. Bruce seemed grey, not even really alive. While the water around the Hulk may as well have been a tsunami. Strong, rippling waves, thrashing over you. Threatening to drown you-

Not again-

Just as you reached out to try and cast whatever soft glow you might hope to over him, something else reached back and you were thrust into reality.

All at once, his giant hand wrapped around your body, crushing you, squeezing a cry from you as your bones threatened to snap. You knew then. Calling to Bruce was pointless. This wasn’t Bruce. That was why he said other guy. “Hulk- please-” Just short of crying, scared for your life, and sad that it had to be this way.

Seizing all of that and throwing it over him like a net.

And just for a split second, you saw a softness overtake those mad eyes. “Hulk, listen to me… I feel you- I know you-”

Any good work you might have done came crashing down in an instant as a fighter jet opened fire behind you, shooting out the windows and striking Hulk in the back. He roared, and that anger overtook you once again. In one quick sweep he threw you upwards, breaking the ceiling as your body flung up to the next deck.

Where you laid there. For probably too long a time. Consciousness waning in and out. Noise still going on above you. People fighting. Probably dying. And you were just lying there. Waiting for it all to end.

Tony was somewhere. Fighting. Doing something. And you were doing nothing.

You couldn’t do nothing.

With a pained gasp you set yourself on your knees, and then moved to stand. “LUNA, locate Loki.” The ship was being attacked on his orders, no doubt. You had to find him and subdue him.

“Loki is still on this floor in the detainment center. Agent Coulson is approaching. Thor is there.” So, two people already ahead of you. But did that mean you should sit down and let everyone else do everything for you?

Absolutely not.

With a limp you set yourself in motion. The detainment room was only two doors down, even though it was a long corridor, you tried to hurry as fast as you could. And when you got there you really had to try and parse through what you were seeing as fast as you could.

Thor was stuck in a big glass cell- no doubt where they’d been keeping Loki (and the one that had been meant for the Hulk)- there was one Loki- near him by the panels- and another creeping up… to Phil who was holding up a gun-

Raising your hand without a second thought just as Loki raised his stick, you fired off a quick shot, throwing Loki off kilter. Not enough though, as the end of his scepter still sliced through skin and bone. “Back off! Back away!” You shouted, hand still raised.

Realizing you didn’t quite have the upper hand you thought you did.

Loki grinned. “No, I think you might be the one to back up. Or I’ll ram this scepter through his skull!” Barking at you. “Or shall I drop dear Thor? You don’t have time to stop us both.” The other Loki grinned. Scaring you enough to put your hand down. “That’s a good girl. Isn’t this interesting? Stark’s Lady. Come to play?”

Thor slammed his fist against the cell. “There are no more games to play, Loki! Stop this madness!”

“Oh, but I’ve only just begun. Here, fair Lady. My brother there thinks we’re out of games, but I think otherwise. So here’s one for you. Make your choice. Which life shall be lost? My dear, idiot brother? Or your valiant agent?”

A no win scenario. And one with an obvious answer. “Take me. Let them go.”

This seemed to please Loki, that grin warping even crueler. You thought you understood him now. You thought you understood everything. If you could just go back there again with him… you could break the control he was under. That same control that had threatened the Avengers just moments ago, had turned them into dogs fighting with one another.

 A shield, you think? Why would he give you a shield?

 Tony had been right. It wasn’t a shield. That yellow glow didn’t belong to him. It belonged to that weapon. And you could break him of it- save the day-

“Wrong answer.” Just like that he moved to flipped a switch, releasing the cell with Thor in it. Gone. Like that. In seconds. The floor closed up after him. The image of him at the console laughed, and then vanished in a shimmer.

“NO!” Your body moved on its own- maybe you could fly after him- blast the glass- free him-

Loki raised that stick, shoving it further through Phil’s shoulder, lifting him off his feet, earning a gasped cry of pain. “ON YOUR KNEES.”It stalled your movements and sent you dropping as he commanded into a kneel. “Oh, yes, my dear Lady. I have all the cards, and you have nothing.” Hissing at you like a feral animal. It was easy to see the sick pleasure he derived from this.

“Take me...” You tried again. What else could you do? Stuck in an impossible situation. “Take me. Please. I’m more use to you.”

“I should say so. I’ve been watching you. Don’t they just adore you. Heart of this band of misfits. I think it would be rather amusing to turn yours against them.”

“So stop talking and take me!”

“You do not make demands of me!” He barked back, but tried to regain his cool in seconds. “That device on your chest. Take it off and throw it across the room.”

You and Phil shared a long look. “Don’t- don’t do it… not worth it-”

That had been Loki, you realized. In your room. The same way there had been two of him moments ago. He’d seen you power it up. And now knew to disarm you of it. Even though you’d promised Tony…

Reaching up you wrenched it off, the nanobots going with it as LADY powered down, leaving you there bare to him. In a clean jerk of your arm you chucked it, not caring where it went. It didn’t matter now. Without it you had almost nothing.

There was little satisfaction as Loki yanked the stick out with a sickening sound of flesh giving way, leaving Coulson on a heap on the floor. You’d done enough to save one life. But at what cost? As he closed in you attempted to keep yourself firm. This was all part of a plan, right? If you could get him subdued… if you could reach into him and help him-

His arm struck out, hand burying in the back of your hair in a painful grasp. He yanked you to your feet, close to his face. “If I so much as feel you, I’ll finish what I started. Do not test me.”

He frightened you. Truly. But you tried to swallow all that down, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. “So what are you going to do, then?” Because it sounded like he didn’t plan to kill you right this second.

“Let’s sit atop your false throne and watch your world burn. Stark will come for you. And I’ll relish in making you carve his heart out and eat it. And then you shall destroy them all.” You were sure in that moment, this moment alone, you’d never been so terrified in your life. So far out of your depths.

 I’m sorry, Tony. I’m so sorry.

 A hole opened up in the side of the room, shot out by a waiting jet. The ramp descended and Loki threw you forward with the intent to board it. But before that he pulled you to a stop, like a little dog on his leash. So you followed. If you could just be quiet long enough to- “You don’t think I actually trust you, do you, foolish Lady?”

Letting go of you, he brought that stick down hard with a crack against the back of your skull.

And that’s when you finally let it all go.

Back into darkness.

                                        ---------------------------------

 Coming back inside after the harrowing tale of fixing yet another of SHIELD’s debacles, Tony barely found time to breathe. “Honey, talk to me. What’s your status.” Waiting. Waiting too long a time in silence. His nerves started going. “JARVIS locate INY..” He gave no attention to Steve who was standing there staring at him questioningly. Frustration bubbled up as too many seconds went by. “JARVIS-” It shouldn’t take that long.

“Agent Coulson is down. Critical condition.” Fury’s voice came in over his comm. He had to reach out to steady himself against the wall. He knew what was coming next. He didn’t know how. But he knew. “Stark… we lost her.”

The world went silent, his vision tunneling. “What??”

“Loki took Lady.” But she’d be okay, right? She’d- “Her Arc Reactor was recovered inside the detainment center. Her condition is unknown.”

Tony’s hand slammed down against the wall, leaving a dent.

Big mistake, he vowed. Steve touched his shoulder, and he frantically shrugged him off. “Stark… we’ll get her back.”

“I’ll get her back.” Turning on him, fire in his eyes. “Just a minute ago you were going toe to toe with her. Don’t start caring because I’m standing here.”

“We were all on each other. It wasn’t us. Loki turned us into puppets.” Steve’s lips pressed together, seeming to not know what else to say, as Tony turned away from him. “They were doing their jobs.”

Tony’s head moved in a shake. “They should have waited- she should have waited. She was way out of her league- I told her to-”

“Sometimes there isn’t a way out, Tony.” There was a small silence. Tony hoped Steve would just go away. He needed to think. But instead he offered something much worse, “Is this the first time you’ve lost a soldier behind enemy lines?”

Tony couldn’t help whipping around, advancing on him, fury in his every move. Blind to it now. “We are not soldiers-! ...she’s not a soldier. I’m not marching to Fury’s fife.”

This was his fault, and he knew it. His fault. His fault.

It was his fault she was here. That she’d gotten caught up in any of this. Because of him and his big fucking mouth. His need to control his own story- but what about her? Always at his side no matter what. No matter the cost. No matter- ...and now-

 -...what if she died because of him?

 Steve shook his head. “Neither am I. He’s got the same blood on his hands that Loki does. But right now we gotta put that behind us and get this done. Now Loki needs a power source, if we can put together a list-”

He couldn’t listen to this. He was practically physically incapable of hearing anything Steve was trying to say, shaking. Shaking with wrath that needed to go somewhere. The longer he waited, the longer she… she could die- “He made it personal.”

“That’s not the point.”

“That is the point! That’s Loki’s point. He hit us right where we live. Why?” He couldn’t be here right now talking to this idiot. He had to find her. Every second he wasted-

“To tear us apart.” An easy answer.

Tony shook his head, crossing his arms. “He had to divide and conquer us, but he knows he has to take us all out to win, right? That’s what he wants. He wants to beat us and he wants to be seen doing it. He wants an audience.” Okay, maybe talking this through was helping. Though not with the turmoil rumbling inside him. Because if what he was saying was true, he may as well have her head on a pike somewhere-

“Right.” Steve nodded. “I caught his act in Stuttgart.”

“That’s just previews.” Walking away, feeling the picture come together, “This is opening night. Loki’s a full-tilt diva. He wants flowers, he wants parades, he wants a moment built in the skies with his name plastered...”

It hit him then.

He knew exactly where she was.

“Son of a bitch.”

Nothing on this earth, another earth, another fucking galaxy, would save Loki anymore. Tony would make sure of that with his own hands.

Loki had made the worst mistake one could, in his little tantrum to get to all of them. To him. And there was only rectifying it with blood.

Off on the side of the deck he launched himself with one thought in mind. The one thing that drove him. The one thing that mattered.

 I’m coming, honey… hang in there… stay alive.

 Please.

[naferty]

It's that time of year again (my birthday 2/19) and I was just wondering if you could write a random prompt with Stony (or Stuckony), insecure Tony and some hurt/comfort mixed in. Nothing elaborate, just a little somethin somethin. Like Tony having a really bad day, Steve making an off hand tease that Tony takes seriously. Ooh or Tony thinks Steve forgot his birthday/anniversary. Those are always cute ❤️ whatever you choose to do (or don't do) I love your writing and it gives me life ❤️❤️🌈

It’s @xissa-chanx ‘s special day so here’s a ficlet to celebrate! Sorry it’s so late in the day!

~~~

(Stukony, a/b/o dynamics, hurt/comfort, dark-ish Steve, Bucky and Natasha)

For the first time in a long 27 year lifetime, Tony was excited about the idea of his birthday.

After years of unmemorable birthdays that consisted of waiting for a ‘Happy Birthday’ from his father that would never come, lonely and pitiful looking cakes snuck in and shared between himself and his butler, mountains and mountains of alcohol passed around by complete and utter strangers and later those strangers exchanged for one as copious amount of alcohol continued, he was looking for a new and refreshing take on his big day.

Perhaps even experience the big and wondrous celebration everyone described their day to be. With smiling faces of friends as they wished them a happy birthday and there would be presents in their arms and laughter in the background and a beautiful warm atmosphere that seemed too perfect to exist. A perfect image that Tony wondered if he would ever experience.

The closest to that feeling of perfection were on the days where his Rhodey Bear was available to visit and for the longest time that was enough for him. To have his best friend there and together have a competitive game of laser tag and overpriced fries and cheap beer and at the end, Rhodey would give him his gag gift. The most memorable being a grand box with the flashiest wrapper Rhodey could have found and after Tony ripped it apart with gusto he found his reward was a card that simply stated: “Gift Not Included.”

Tony had absolutely loved it. So much so he laughed to the point of tears.

It was perfect. Not fantasy perfect, but perfect enough for him.

Now, he had an opportunity to make his big day reach fantasy perfect. Because it wasn’t just Rhodey now. Not this year. Now there was more. Now there was Steve and Bucky and their gaggle of friends. Now there was Brucie, Tony’s science bro and soulmate he had finally met last year. Now there was Thor, bigger than life with a voice to support it. Now there was Jan, Tony’s sister from another mister and a self-proclaimed fashionista who used him as a guinea pig every chance she got and Tony wouldn’t have it any other way. With Jan came Hank. The two for the price of one. With Steve came Sam. With Bucky came Natasha and Natasha, in turn, came with Clint.

Now there was a circle of friends and two wonderful partners that could give him what he longed for as a child. Now he had a chance to finally experience it.

So when he woke up the morning of his big day with high spirits and ready to get it started he was met with… silence. He woke up alone with not even a good morning or a quick kiss from either Steve or Bucky. He woke up just the same as his previous birthdays with little changed except a bigger bed and more clothes on the floor.

Not wanting to jump the gun he checked the nightstand and his phone for any messages left by the alphas to explain where they were. He found nothing. Not a quick text or missed call or written note. To say he was upset was an understatement. He was hurt and the high spirits he previously had declined with each passing second.

He had imagined so much for the morning of his birthday. The perfect fantasy. He knew it was unfair to expect of it from his mates, but the least he most wanted of them was wishing him a happy birthday together and maybe quick morning birthday sex.

‘There is still hours left in the day,’ he told himself. There was still time.

Feeling a bit morbid, he eventually got himself out of bed and cleaned up for the day. Even if he was upset, it didn’t mean he had to appear the way he felt. It was just another day and Steve and Bucky weren’t the only ones he was supposed to see. Jan had promised a visit and Bruce said he’d be stopping by to talk chop and Rhodey had mentioned he was in town. He had others to look forward to.

~~~

‘Sorry Tones, I won’t be able to visit like I hoped. Something came up.’

“Happy birthday to me, huh?” Tony said to no one as he read the third and final cancellation of the day.

Jan had canceled as she had overscheduled and was unable to visit like she promised. Bruce called in to apologize for one of his experiments was time sensitive and he couldn’t risk leaving for the rest of the day. Rhodey had no doubt been called back and couldn’t stop by to at least share a drink on this amazing day of his.

Hours later and he hadn’t received a single message from anyone and Steve and Bucky continue to remain absent. On his list of best birthdays, today’s was certainly reaching the button in record speeds.

Wanting to give up on the day already, he made his way back to his room to grab a big shirt and sweatpants. No point in looking decent now. Nobody was going to see him. He only wished he had thought ahead and bought ice cream. Now was a good time as ever to eat his emotions away. No one was there to judge him for it.

He had just settled on his couch and made a grab for the remote when the door was slammed open and in came Steve and Bucky looking like alphas on a mission. More so than usual. Tony was startled enough by the sound and sight that he sat up straight at attention.

“Tony, great, you’re here,” Steve said a little breathlessly, as if he’d been running around all day. “Get yourself ready, Sweetheart. We’re going out.”

“Going out?” Tony held his breath. For him?

“Yeah, Thor reached a milestone. Managed to snag himself work as a doctor. That degree he got himself is finally paying off,” Bucky answered, just as breathless. “We’re taking him out to celebrate.”

“Oh,” Tony said with the smallest voice. Not for him after all. “That’s good news. Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Come on! Everyone’s there already,” Steve ushered him to get a move on, which Tony did so with reluctance. He wasn’t really in the mood to listen like a good little omega when none of their friends, or even his mates, remembered what the day meant for him. He guessed it was expected. He’d never had the fantasy get together before, why would he now?

He got himself dressed fancy enough and followed after his alphas almost robotically, letting them take over for wherever they were going. The celebration ended up happening in a restaurant and bar. A restaurant Tony could almost imagine himself wanting to toast his birthday with the gang, but the toast for the day was for Thor. Not him.

With a heavy heart, he went in. He was dreading the next few hours. Faking his smiles and heartfelt congrats and acting cheerful as he watched Thor glow under all the attention.

“Right around the corner, Doll,” Bucky guided him around a counter full of guests and hidden behind a crowd were a lot of familiar faces. For a split second Tony’s heart split in half when he spotted Jan, Bruce and his Honey Bear among all their friends. They had canceled on him in order to attend Thor’s celebration?

“Happy Birthday, Tony!” They all cheered together.

The words didn’t register right away. Not even after both Steve and Bucky turned his head in order to give him a kiss.

“Happy Birthday, Doll. Sorry, we weren’t there to tell you in the morning. We had to get everything together and wrangling our friends ain’t easy” Bucky admitted with a sheepish smile. “We didn’t want to spoil the surprise. Practically had to threaten them not to spill the beans.”

“For future reference, never elect Clint to pick up the cake,” Steve said. “Had to do a rush order after lifting it proved too much for him and it landed on the ground. Sam is also too curious for his own good. Kept wanting to open the presents.”

It took seconds for Tony’s mind to reboot after the two kisses killed his brain cells, but eventually, the blue screen faded. “For me?”

“Of course for you,” both alphas frowned. “We’d never forget your birthday, Sweetheart. Sorry we lied to you. We didn’t want to spoil the surprise.”

“Birthday boy! Come over here for your birthday hugs. We want fries already,” someone that sounded suspiciously like Rhodey interrupted and that alone made Tony smile brightly.

“You’re a complete asshole for canceling on me like that!” Tony marched over to him, giving him a hug after hitting his shoulder in retaliation for the act.

“Don’t blame me,” Rhodey winced, rubbing his shoulder, “your boys there practically snarled at me to cancel for this.”

“Did they?”

Both Jan and Bruce nodded in confirmation. In fact, all of their friends did before they all rushed forward to give the very hugs promised.

~~~

Steve and Bucky smiled to themselves as they watched their mate receive the very attention he deserved on his special day. The start of it didn’t work out how they wanted, but they made do with what they had and got all their friends to pitch in and help where they could. Their only regret was making Tony believe they had forgotten. With how they rushed to get everything together they couldn’t wish a happy day in person and Tony deserved more than a quick text message or note.

They rumbled to each other in satisfaction as their omega preened with every hug. How it was meant to be.

“You know, the posturing and threatening stares were completely unnecessary. You could’ve just asked us. We would have happily helped,” Natasha said as she carefully came over.

“We couldn’t risk any of you saying no,” Bucky’s voice was calm, but his eyes said otherwise.

“We wouldn’t have. You two aren’t the only ones who care for him.” She studied them briefly before following their gazes and watching Tony mingle around with their friends. “I’m glad you found your little light. I was beginning to worry they were going to put you both down. Feral alphas just aren’t worth the hassle to them.”

“Personal experience?” Steve relaxed, something not done often in public.

“You could say that, but I found my reason just in time. Same can’t be said for others,” she paused, either for dramatic effect or to reason with herself whether to say the next part or not. “They will use him. Gain leverage on you both so they can have control.” They growled, just as she had expected. “I’m calling them as I saw them. Be careful.”

Bucky shot her a look, something akin to respect for letting them know but also anger for the revelation. “They must want a death wish then.”

Steve grinned. “I’ve already got agents in mind. I’ve been itching to get someone’s throat between my teeth.”

“Down, boy,” Natasha smiled. “It’s Tony’s birthday party. Be civil.”

“Easy enough. For Tony, we’d do anything.”

“Including kill SHIELD agents?”

“As easy as biting down.”

It had sounded like a promise. Natasha liked it. “Let’s go. The fries are coming out soon and I’m hungry.”

[agentmarymargaretskitz]

Losing Your Memory 2/2

And here comes the angst!

AO3, Fanfiction

Three Days Later

               Things had quickly returned to normal on the Waverider once Leonard Snart had returned to them. He had been filled in on the events that he had missed, and was fitting back into the team as though the Oculus had never happened. When he found out that there was a statue of Mick in Washington DC, he had requested Rip for them to make a pit stop to it for “reasons”. Rip had agreed to the request, as he was curious about the new existence of the statue himself.

               Mick and Leonard had gotten past the whole self-sacrificing issue without having to fight it out again, although sharp words were exchanged between them. In the end, Mick was just happy to have the Leonard Snart he knew back from the dead to remain too angry with him. In addition to patching up things with Mick, Leonard and Sara had fallen back into their usual rhythm and banter quickly. However, it seemed that there was more between the crook and the assassin now. Mick had seen Leonard slip into Sara’s bunk the previous night, while Ray shared that he had witnessed him leave that very morning, followed shortly by Sara.

“Think they’re something now?” he’d badgered Mick as they entered the kitchen. “Like together?”

“Not my damn business,” Mick growled in reply, although he knew that they definitely were. He’d been expecting it to happen before the Oculus even happened, and it now seemed long overdue. Still, he wouldn’t spill the beans on them to the rest of the team. It was their secret to tell and the team would probably figure it out soon anyways.

“Who’s together?” Amaya asked from where she was stood at the counter, a half peeled orange in her hand.

“Sara and Snart,” Mick told her as Ray beat him to the food replicator. “Haircut won’t stop gossiping about them.”

“There’s something going on between them,” Ray insisted. “You can’t miss the looks they give each other. I know when something’s going on, and I’ll figure it out if it kills me.”

“Blondie’d kill you first for snooping,” Mick chuckled. “Or Snart, depending on who catches you first.”

“Hey, I’m sneaky!”

Amaya pressed her lips together to suppress a smile. “Not exactly.”

“You and Mick have been spending too much time together,” Ray grumbled as he took his sandwich from the replicator.

The woman shrugged and shot a smile at Mick. “I’m not sorry. He’s good company.”

“At least you’re not holding a knife to my throat these days,” he replied.

               Amaya’s smile grew wider as she shook her head at the memory. Since Leonard’s rescue, they’d talked. Both were still feeling out where they stood. But they did agree that the next place they landed, they would go somewhere. Given Leonard’s insistence to see Mick’s statue, they were likely going to end up in Washington DC. Mick was actually looking forward to it.

               He made to move away from the counter when the orange fell from Amaya’s hands. When it hit the counter, Mick looked back. Her smile had vanished as she squeezed her eyes shut. She held her hands against the sides of her head before sinking to her knees slowly on the floor.

“Amaya?” Ray moved beside Mick. “Are you okay?”

               In response, she opened her mouth and screamed. It was full of pain, like she was being hurt by something. Her hands moved to cover her ears more as she screamed again. Mick watched, paralyzed and unsure of what to do. Amaya screamed once more before falling backwards, snapping Mick out of his spell. He hurried over to her, his eyes widening at the sight of the blood trickling out of her nose.

“Haircut, get help,” he ordered as he picked up the fallen woman.

               Ray nodded and ran out of the kitchen. Mick exited as well, but headed toward the med bay with Amaya. She was shaking a little, but her nosebleed seemed to have stopped. Her eyes opened slowly, and Mick looked down at her. She seemed dazed and puzzled.

“Mick…” she groaned, barely focusing on him.

“What happened?” he asked, stopping momentarily.

He didn’t get an answer from her. Amaya’s eyes closed again before she could get out an answer.

Mick picked up the pace to get to the med bay.

               Opening her eyes felt like a herculean effort for Amaya. Once she was finally able to, she was greeted with the sight of Rip and Mick standing over her in the med bay. The last thing Amaya remembered was being in the kitchen with the latter and Ray when another one of the headaches had hit her. Since rescuing Snart, it had been her eighth. They didn’t have any pattern to them, coming out of nowhere to bring splitting pain that filled her head, images that appeared and disappeared too quickly to be identified, and voices shouting at the top of their lings. In the last three instances, her nose had started to bleed during them. She had passed out in her room when the one before the latest hit her.

“Hey,” she mumbled.

Rip and Mick both looked down at her. The two men looked worried, and Mick looked like he’d gotten the worse possible news ever.

“How long has this been happening?” he asked.

Amaya exhaled slowly. “Since I went out to save Snart. I thought they were migraines before they started getting worse.”

“You’re lucky that’s only been happening now,” Rip told her. “It’s a miracle you’re still alive at this point.”

She shook her head. “What?”

“Your rescue of Mr. Snart exposed your body to a massive amount of temporal energy,” Gideon explained from above. “Your body absorbed this energy, and is now being attacked by it. It’s slowly moving to collect within your brain. The attacks you have been experiencing are a symptom of the energy moving towards it.”

“My glove,” Amaya closed her eyes briefly. “It tore out there a little. That’s how it got in, isn’t it?”

“I’m afraid that is not the energy signature that I am detecting,” the AI commented. “It had been reading the same signature as that of the time storm’s temporal energy. I picked up trace amounts of it on Mr. Snart after he was brought aboard.”

“So how come he hasn’t experienced any attacks?” Mick demanded.

“I believe the explosion of the Oculus impacted him on a cellular level, Mr. Rory,” Gideon replied. “The scan I performed on Mr. Snart showed the changes. The exposure to temporal energy at the blast somehow rendered his cells immune to the effects of it. However, that does not mean it can collect and transfer to another host.”

“Which was me,” Amaya realized, remembering her glove again. When she had grabbed Snart, she remembered the change of temperature in his hand. The temporal energy must have transferred then.

“So how does it come out?” Mick asked Gideon.

The AI was silent for a few beats. “There is a way to remove it, although I do not think Ms. Jiwe, yourself, or the rest of the team will like the consequences, Mr. Rory.”

“Just tell me what’ll happen,” Amaya snapped. She didn’t want to tiptoe around this. Whatever it was, she could take it.

“The temporal energy is attracted to your recent memories- the ones that involve time travel and interaction with it. The energy can be removed, but only by removing the memories themselves. They will be unable to be recovered unless you experience time travel again. Unfortunately, if those memories return, so will the temporal energy within you and the attacks you have been suffering.”

Amaya inhaled shakily. She could survive this, but only if she forgot everything she’d gone through on the Waverider and everyone she had met here.

“And what happens if she doesn’t get rid of the energy?” Sara’s voice joined in as she and the remaining team members entered.

Amaya frowned as everyone filed in. “What are you doing here?”

“We’ve been listening in after Dr. Palmer informed us what had happened,” Stein revealed with a glare at Rip. “Some people decided not to inform the rest of us of Ms. Jiwe’s situation.”

“I was not aware of the consequences surrounding the removal of the energy until now,” Rip fired back.

“Gideon, we’re having words later about you not telling me what the Oculus did to me,” Leonard drawled from where he stood beside Sara. “But what happens if my rescuer doesn’t get the energy taken out.”

“It will continue to collect inside her skull and brain,” the AI explained as everyone’s face dropped. “The attacks will persist with visions and voices from the timeline, as well as the nosebleeds and loss of consciousness. However, they will increase in duration as well. Based on current scans, I doubt Ms. Jiwe will likely survive past two more attacks. Her death because of this will result in catastrophic effects on the timeline and the deaths of multiple individuals earlier than they should occur in this timeline. I believe you are familiar or will become familiar with some of them- Oliver Queen, Laurel Lance, John Diggle, Caitlin Snow, Barry Allen, Julian Albert, Lisa Snart, Lily Stein, and Dick Grayson.”

While the others were unfamiliar with Julian or this Dick, the rest of the names meant something to the other members of the team. Sara shuddered at the thought of losing her sister earlier than she had. Leonard had gone stiff at the mention of Lisa. Ray appeared to be distinctly rattled, while Stein looked like he was going to be sick.

               As soon as she saw the faces of her teammates, Amaya knew she had to give up her memories. She couldn’t put her friends through losing people they knew and cared about. Refusing the treatment would mean she would die knowing about everything she had been through, but it would destroy the present state of the timeline. Only agreeing to forget would let the casualties be reduced. It would make returning to 1942 easier too then, as if she had never left. She felt selfish for thinking like that, but she knew she was not wrong.

“Guess I have to forget then,” she sighed, looking out at the team.

“No,” Mick insisted. “There’s got to be another way.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Rory,” Gideon apologized. “But I’m afraid there is no other option.”

The man looked defeated by Gideon’s words. Rip left Amaya’s side to walk over towards the replicator. A heavy stillness fell over the team now. Amaya swallowed back the lump in her throat. Despite everything, she had become attached to these people, and cared about them. Knowing she wouldn’t miss them after losing her memories made her feel worse.

“So this is goodbye then,” she said, staring out at them. “You could have easily taken me back to 1942, but you let me stay. You allowed me to seek justice for Rex’s death.  I got to see incredible things across time. Even if I have to forget them, these have been some of the best days of my life. Thank you for them.”

“I should be the one thanking you,” Leonard stated. “You were the one who saved me, and now this is happening to you.”

“If you’re going to try and blame yourself for this, then don’t,” Amaya ordered as she saw the expression of barely masked guilt on his face. “If I hadn’t done this, then right now it would be Mick or Sara right here. With me, it’s for the best. I was always going to have to go back one day.”

“Feels too soon though,” Jax said.

“I know you won’t remember us,” Nate told her. “But we won’t forget you Amaya.”

Rip returned with a sort of band attached to multiple wires that he placed around her head. “Whenever you’re ready, Ms. Jiwe.”

“Thank you, Rip.”

He nodded. Amaya laid back, noticing that Mick hadn’t moved from where he was standing beside her. Reaching out, she clasped his gloved hand. He looked down at her, surprised.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “So much for the plans.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he told her. “You can probably still see it. Maybe you’ll go there with the JSA.”

“No,” she shook her head. “Don’t drop me back there. Take me to Zambesi. Bring me back home. Make up a story for the others to tell me how I came back.”

Mick nodded. Amaya could feel an ache starting in her temples, a sure sign that another attack was imminent.

“I care about you,” he said suddenly, meeting her eyes. “I care about you a lot.”

“Ms. Jiwe, I’m detecting a movement of temporal energy within you,” Gideon warned. “The procedure will need to begin soon.”

The clock was running down on her time here. Amaya took a deep breath and looked at everybody one last time, saving Mick for last. There were something she needed to say to him too, and she had to do it now. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

“I care about you too,” she smiled before steeling her features. “Okay, Gideon, I’m ready.”

“Yes, Ms. Jiwe. I’m sorry, but this is going to hurt.”

A sharp pain struck her in the back of the neck, right at the base of her skull. Amaya cried out before the area went numb. Her eyes started to feel heavily a moment later. She attempted to fight it, but failed. As soon as her eyes closed on Mick and the team watching over her, unconsciousness set in.

               Not long after Amaya’s eyes closed, her hand fell away from grasping Mick’s. The man stared as it slid from his to hang limp over the edge of the bed. His eyes moved up to her face and the calm expression on it. If he didn’t know any better, he would have assumed that she was asleep. Unfortunately, Mick knew what was happening to her right now was much worse.

               He didn’t want to spend another minute in the med bay, not with the whole group there. Without a word, he turned away from them and stormed out. Sara shouted after him. Snart told her to just let him go, something Mick was thankful for. He didn’t really feel up to being around the others right now. At least he had someone back who understood.

               When he had been Chronos under the Time Masters, they had been prepping Mick to one day become one of the Hunters. Once Chronos had squashed Rip’s attempt to save his family and defeat Savage, he would then join them. But there was a process in which the Hunters had their emotions stripped away from them. Mick was willing to give up a lot to go through that right now. Feelings just seemed to keep getting him hurt over and over again.

               Later, when he was sulking in his room after burning something, Snart came by. He told Mick that the procedure had been completed, and Amaya was currently under sedation. Sara was piloting a course to 1942 Zambesi, a few weeks after Amaya had boarded the Waverider. They had managed to fabricate a decent cover story for her family and friends to hear and tell her. Rip wanted to know if Mick wanted to join them in bringing her back to her village.

“No,” Mick shook his head. “Tell him no.”

Snart nodded and made to leave, but stopped. “I’m sorry about her, Mick. This happened because of me.”

“She told you not to blame yourself,” Mick snapped. “So don’t.”

His friend gave no reaction. “You loved her, huh?”

“I’m not talking about that shit with you,” Mick snarled with a glare.

“Fair enough,” Snart admitted, nodding. “You’re not alone though. The others are going to miss her too.”

With that, he left Mick alone.

               Later, when no one was around, Mick snuck into the med bay. He wanted to see Amaya one last time before they dropped her off. There was nothing to be said, and there never could be again. So he slipped something into her pocket and left after kissing her forehead. He pretended like nothing had happened when Rip asked again if he wanted to accompany the others in bringing Amaya home to her village. Still, he denied the request and decided to stay behind.

1943

               Amaya Jiwe’s eyes snapped open in the middle of the night, her dream already starting to fade from her memory. She had been in Chicago, and it had looked just like the pictures in the magazines. Since the JSA had stationed her back home with the war spreading into Africa and then the illness that had fractured her memories when she was stricken with it, she occasionally had odd dreams. She would travel to strange places. There were always the same people with her, including a blonde in white, a man on fire, another who could turn to steel, and a third who could shrink. But in her last dream, she had been with the man who had a rough exterior, but she somehow felt there was a goodness deep within him.

               Reaching over to the small table beside her, Amaya pulled the lighter off of it. In the moonlight, she could only just catch the shine off its metal surface. When she had recovered from the illness, it had been in her pocket. No one knew where it had come from, and she didn’t recall anyone in the JSA, not even Rex, ever giving her a lighter. But for some reason, she felt as if it was important. She flicked it, the flame dancing before her eyes.

In another century, the man who had given it to her was sitting in the brig of a pirate’s ship with two of his compatriots, hoping that she was happy.