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heliads · 2 years

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Secret History

Based on this request: "Bucky’s parents adopted Y/N. Y/n wants to find out who she truly is. She was at cheer with her boyfriend Wyatt, which Bucky didn’t like at first but accepted. Y/n suddenly had white streaks in her hair & felt unwell. Willa told everyone a story of a baby werewolf gone missing. They take her to the moonstone and suddenly Y/n’s eyes glowed yellow making Wyatt realize the story of the missing werewolf is true"

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When you first start feeling sick, you first assume that it’s just part of the atmosphere. You love cheer practice like nothing else, but every time the pom poms start waving and the fliers start flipping, your world switches out of your control and over to somebody else. Of all the people, the guy who’s currently micromanaging every single aspect of cheerleading at Seabrook High is the same guy who irritates you almost every other hour of the day: Bucky.

Technically, you should know better than to complain about Bucky. He’s going to be a part of your life for the foreseeable future, just as he’s been ever present in your past. Bucky’s parents adopted you when you were just a kid, too young to remember any other life, and now Bucky’s your annoying older brother times about a thousand.

If there’s one point you want to make crystal clear, though, it’s that you started doing cheer for you, not for Bucky. You’re not sure if nepotism runs in Seabrook High cheer tryouts, but Bucky is far from the only reason you wanted to join the team. It’s fun, for one thing, and you’ve made enough friends there to block out even your brother’s snark.

That being said, Bucky will be at every cheerleading practice, and he will most certainly make his presence known. He’s been barraging everybody with a tidal wave of criticisms and comments about your form and your smiles and your everything for the past half hour or so. You know he’s just trying to get everyone whipped up into shape for the upcoming cheer season, but still. Motivation can be positive too, you know?

That’s why you first attribute the less than stellar sensations currently creeping over you to Bucky’s attitude. You’re a little dizzy? Might be because you’ve been doing the same flip sequence over and over again, and that many turns in the air would make anyone feel like they’ve lost control of the ground under their feet. The air feels hot? Probably because all the fans are turned in Bucky’s direction and away from you.

As the practice progresses, though, you start feeling worse and worse. Slowly, you wonder if it’s not just another round of Bucky’ sadistic cheer boot camp getting to you but something different. Maybe you picked up a cold when everyone came back from summer break, it’s a given around here.

However, you don’t feel like you’ve been hit by a normal infection but something worse. You find yourself swaying slightly, unable to get your bearings. The world tilts and spins before you like you’re stuck on a ship, except there’s no sea in sight, only the supposedly solid ground that keeps rushing up in front of you.

You thought it was all in your head until you blink and everyone’s staring at you. Bucky has rushed over you and is hovering about like a helicopter parent, and although you’re not sure when that happened, the fact that you’re having blanks in your memory really isn’t a good sign.

You shake your head slowly at him. “What is it?”

Bucky’s eyes just widen. “Y/N, are you feeling alright?”

“Not really,” you reply as casually as you can, “but it’s cheer, I can get through this.”

“Normally, that’s the attitude I’d love to see,” he says carefully as he can, “but really, are you good?”

You narrow your eyes. “What is it?”

Bucky raises a trembling hand to point at your head. “Your hair. It’s turning color.”

This is quite possibly one of the most bizarre things you’ve heard in a while. However, when you turn for a nearby mirror (Bucky always keeps one close by, and no, you don’t want to think about the consequences were this rule ever broken), you realize that he’s right. White streaks are blossoming over your hair, icing out the natural color like frost on a winter morning. It makes no sense, but then again, nothing about Seabrook ever makes sense.

Least of all you. Your adoptive parents have never once brought up your birth family, to the point where it’s almost strange. You’re used to closed doors and kept secrets, and whatever is going on with your hair seems to be another glaring sign that something important about you has gone buried for far too long.

You glance away from the mirror when someone else runs up to check on you. If there’s one person whose presence you could use more than anything, it’s the boy before you. Wyatt Lykensen may be something of a polarizing figure in the cheerleading community, but when it comes to making you feel better, there’s no one better than him.

On further reflection, one could point out that you seem to gravitate towards chances to make Bucky’s blood pressure skyrocket. You hung out with the zombies the second they were allowed in Seabrook High, you do cheerleading but don’t expressly follow Bucky’s every command, and most concerning of all, you seem to have an absolute death wish because you started dating Wyatt Lykensen about a month ago and you’ve never looked back since.

You wish you could have taken a photo of Bucky’s face the second you told him that you and Wyatt were a thing. If anything could truly take Bucky out, it might have been that news. He was enraged, driven into a tizzy so strong it took all three of the Aceys to calm him down again.

It took a fair amount of convincing, but Bucky eventually came around to the idea. This emotional journey was helped along by the fact that you refuse to bend on this front, not in the slightest. You love Wyatt, nothing more needs to be said on the matter. Even if your brother has other opinions, you’re only interested in what your heart says, and that has everything to do with keeping Wyatt by your side.

So, when Wyatt appears out of nowhere, Bucky casts him a suspicious glance out of pure muscle memory, but eventually steps back so the other boy can reach you.

Wyatt reaches out a hand to steady you. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

You muster up a faint smile. “Other than my hair deciding it’s time for a new look without consulting me? Not great, I have to say.”

Bucky steps in, evidently under the impression that having Wyatt’s hand on your shoulder is far too blatant a display of public affection for anyone in cheer practice to handle, least of all him. “Y/N, I’m going to take you home. Something clearly is wrong.”

You open your mouth to argue this, but a bout of dizziness so severe that the world turns black for a few moments silences you. All you can do is nod along and let Bucky escort you out. If your brother is willing to abandon his beloved cheer practice to get you home, something must really be wrong. That, and the fact that Wyatt is staring at you with the gravest apprehension every moment until you disappear around a corner, tells you that something really isn’t right.

Wyatt is indeed quite worried. He’s not used to seeing Y/N like this, so quiet and barely functional. What’s more, he swears that something about this seems familiar. The patterns of white in Y/N’s hair remind him of those that decorate the tresses of the other werewolves. Normally, that would make no sense, but there’s a story that’s pricking at the back of Wyatt’s subconscious, something he hasn’t thought about in quite some time.

Wyatt usually insists on staying after school so he can watch the cheer practice, a habit of his that originated even before he started dating Y/N and definitely didn’t begin because he wanted an excuse to talk to her. For this reason, he can count on Willa being somewhere in the vicinity. Even after werewolves were accepted fully into Seabrook, she’s still convinced that something bad will happen. Usually, her overprotective fervor comes in the form of Willa insisting on walking home with him from school.

So, Wyatt only has to look around a few moments before he locates his older sister. She was studying in the hall outside, and stands up when she sees him approach.

“What’s going on in there?” She asks, curious. “I saw Bucky and someone who I think was Y/N exit in a hurry. What was up with that?”

Wyatt explains as best he can, although the furrow in Willa’s brow only deepens.

“You’re sure her hair was turning white?” Willa prods, “like, exactly like ours?”

Wyatt nods solemnly. “I saw it before Bucky whisked her away. Doesn’t it remind you of–”

Willa cuts him off, suddenly understanding why Wyatt’s so unsettled. “You’re thinking about that story. The one about the missing werewolf. It can’t be, though.”

Wyatt locks eyes with her sister. “What if it was?”

Bucky has about the exact same reaction as Willa when Wyatt and his sister turn up at his door. “You think Y/N is a what?”

Wyatt groans. “Look, just hear us out. Years ago, about the time when I was just a kid, a werewolf went missing in our pack. It was a huge deal, because the werewolf was barely a few years old and nobody could find them. Like, not anybody. Not even our best hunters. The pack kept searching ever since, but there’s no sign of anything. Not until now.”

Bucky scoffs, although Wyatt can tell from his expression that he’s not entirely given up on the idea. “So, what? You think Y/N has been a werewolf all this time? That’s ridiculous.”

“How do you know she isn’t?” Wyatt counters. “Do you know exactly who her birth parents were? Can you prove anything else?”

Bucky grimaces. “It’s still crazy, that’s all I’m saying. Besides, even on the off chance it was true, what difference would it make?”

Willa steps in. “It means we could save her. Y/N is still sick, isn’t she? Nothing you can do will work. If we take her to our moonstone, though–”

That does it. Bucky’s face shuts down. “Absolutely not. I don’t know what game you two are playing at, but I don’t trust either of you enough for that. Y/N is my sister, I’m not taking her to some strange talisman just because you two heard a ghost story and thought it was true.”

Bucky moves to shut the door, but Wyatt blocks it just in time. “We thought you’d say that, which is why we brought backup.”

Bucky’s brow furrows in confusion, especially so when Addison and Zed approach the doorway as well.

Addison is the first to speak. “Look, Bucky, I know you’re worried about Y/N’s health. So am I. She’s my cousin, remember? Trust me, then, when I say that this is a good idea. This might be our only chance to save Y/N.”

Bucky sighs. “Don’t try to persuade me. Don’t.”

“Does that mean it’s working?” Addison asks hopefully.

Bucky grimaces, and at last opens the door again. “Yeah, it is. I hate it when you guys are logical, it makes everything really hard.”

Wyatt bites back a grin and heads inside with the rest. Y/N looks worse than before, so Wyatt can only hope that he’s right about this. If he loses her– no, he can’t think about that. All he can do is get Y/N to the home of the werewolf pack and pray that the moonstone will cure her like everyone is saying.

By the time they arrive at Wyatt's home, it’s clear that their margin of time is slipping by the second. Willa sprints inside to bring a moonstone necklace, and Wyatt helps carry Y/N further into the system of caves. Bucky’s background litany of complaints is almost useful, it distracts Wyatt from thinking about the fact that this could go so wrong so fast.

When Willa returns with the moonstone necklace, Wyatt all but snatches it from her in his haste to get this right. He hands it to Y/N, and they all stand around her expectantly. Y/N’s eyelids flicker shut. For a terrible moment, Wyatt thinks that they must have been too late, and then her eyes flash open and her irises have turned a bright, beautiful gold. It’s the gold of a werewolf, and just like that, Wyatt is alright.

He lets out a slow breath of relief. “Y/N, how do you feel?”

She smiles at him, strength quickly returning to her frame. “Better, actually. What does this mean?”

Wyatt chuckles. “I think it means you’re a werewolf.”

Y/N stares at him in shock. “What?”

Wyatt spreads his hands. “I mean, it all makes sense. The moonstone saving you, the white in your hair. You’re the missing werewolf from all those years ago, and you’re finally home.”

Wyatt doesn’t know that he’s ever seen a better sight than when Y/N smiles at him. He’s heard her talk about wanting to know her birth family before, and the fact that she finally has a home here is everything. They’re both werewolves, they’re both happy and alive, and at last, everything is working out.

disney tag list: @rogueanschel, @lovesanimals0000, @thatfangirl42, @amortensie

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nowthatswhaticalllosing · 5 years

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Now That’s What I Call Music! 9

Preface: Hi internet! I belong to a fantasy football league with my friends from college, and I lost this season! I received my punishment for placing last of the 12 teams, and I am required to listen to all of the Now That’s What I Call Music! compilations that currently exist (70 as of May 2019), review them (by rating each song on a scale of 1-10/10), and (at the end of this descent into madness) create my definitive power ranking of each album.

Album: Now That’s What I Call Music! 9

Release Date: March 19, 2002

Track Listing and Awarded Scores:

Average Score: 6.65/10

The Good: Seventeen songs out of the twenty on this album are actually good. This, despite its less than amazing score, was a breath of fresh air. We’ll get into my grievances in a bit.

There are three highlights I want to touch on:

1) Mary J. Blige - FAMILY AFFAIR - instant classic

2) Shakira! “Wherever, Whenever” is added to the short list of songs earning a 10. I don’t need to say anything else about it, I’ll let the video do the explaining.

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Also fun fact about Shakira - she’s the reason I was able to see the Chiefs play the Rams in LA last season! She threw such a good concert at Estadio Azteca that the fans danced too hard and ruined the field. Bless.

3) “Raise Up” - Petey Pablo.

“Who am I? PETEY PAB MUTHA FUCKAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA” Brb I’m going to go take my shirt off, whip it round my head and wave it like a helicopter.

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Also hey Ludacris! Welcome to the Now albums! Looking forward to seeing you appear more.

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The Bad:

There are three songs on an otherwise great album that prove to be real turds in the punch bowl. I don’t want to write anything or think anymore about them.

Potpourri: I gotta give mention to the U2 song associated with every failed field goal kick ever. Poor Billy Cundiff.

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Takeaways: Now 9 is overall an objectively good album that suffers from a case of a few bad apples spoiling the bunch. If the three aforementioned songs that scored 3 points ceased to exist on the album, Now 9 would score a 7.29/10, encroaching on what is seemingly more untouchable Now 4 territory. Absolute shame.

Despite this, the album is currently tied in 4th with Now 1, so that’s impressive nonetheless.

NEXT IS NOW 10 WOOOOOOOOO

Current Power Rankings:

Now 4 (7.72/10)

Now 6 (6.89/10)

Now 2 (6.67/10)

Now 1 (6.65/10)

Now 9 (6.65/10)

Now 7 (6.63/10) (Mitch score = 6.26/10)

Now 5 (6.58/10)

Now 3 (6.22/10)

Now 8 (6.10/10)

#shakirashakira #ludacris #shakira #petey pablo #raise up #north carolina #come on and raise up #take your shirt off #whip it round your head wave it like a helicopter

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extasiswings · 3 years

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“I felt it shelter to speak to you.” for Buddie

This was...not supposed to be this long but all the recent promo content has been...inspiring. Anyway...on ao3 here.

The first attack happens on a Saturday afternoon.

There’s nothing special about the day, nothing strange. Christopher is at a friend’s birthday party, Buck is off somewhere with Taylor, and Eddie is grocery shopping before he’s meant to meet Ana for an early dinner.

His shoulder aches a little—that’s what he notices first—but that’s not too unusual. It happens sometimes. Even as physical therapy has helped him regain strength and mobility in his arm and shoulder, a high caliber sniper round ripping through his upper chest is no minor injury. Plus, while he’s hardly ancient, he’s not even as young as he was when he was shot the first time, and those bullets left behind their own patches of scar tissue and occasional twinges.

So. His shoulder aches. It’s fine. He ignores it and moves on. Goes through the store, checks out, put his bags in the backseat—

There’s a glare off a window in the apartment building across the street.

Eddie reaches for the handle of his door.

Suddenly, his fingers start tingling, uncomfortable pricks of icy numbness traveling up his hands like they’ve fallen asleep, but shaking them out doesn’t help. And then, without warning, pain lances through his chest, sharp and acute, and he can’t breathe properly, as if his torso has been trapped in a vise that’s slowly tightening more and more.

His vision swims. He sways on his feet, grasping at the door handle with clumsy, numb fingers to keep himself upright.

He feels like—he feels—

He feels like he’s dying. It strikes him with sudden clarity. He’s dying. Dying in a random parking lot—he always assumed he was too young to have a heart attack but the symptoms fit and he’s just—

He can’t. He can’t die. Not when he’s survived everything else. This can’t be—

“Sir?” There’s a woman with a station wagon parked in the space next to his truck and she’s looking at him with no small amount of concern. “Are you okay?”

Eddie’s mouth is so dry and his breathing so irregular that it takes him a moment to respond.

“I—I think I need to go to the hospital,” he grits out as another wave of dizziness threatens to send him to his knees.

She calls 911. Eddie spares a moment to be grateful that the paramedics who show up a few minutes later aren’t from the 118.

As it turns out, he’s not dying. And he didn’t have a heart attack.

“A panic attack?” Eddie’s voice is distant to his own ears as he stares at the ER doctor in disbelief, his stomach flipping with a new kind of dread. “Are you sure?”

“Your symptoms resolved on their own and your EKG is normal, Mr. Diaz,” she replies as she flicks through the screens of his chart on her tablet. “And nothing in your prior history or other recent tests indicates that there’s anything physically wrong with you—you were healthy before you were shot and your recovery has progressed smoothly up to this point.”

She pauses and looks back at him. “Have you...spoken to a therapist? I noticed that your treating physician made a referral for counseling when you were originally discharged, but…”

Eddie clears his throat roughly. “Yeah, no, I, uh...with the PT schedule and everything else going on, I never followed up with that. But I’ve been fine. It never seemed necessary.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Diaz,” the doctor says, “you’re in the emergency room because of an acute stress response in which your brain tricked your body into believing you were in danger to such an extent that you thought you were dying. I’m not sure you’re as fine as you think.”

There’s probably some truth to that. Eddie can admit that much. But that doesn’t mean he needs—he’s been shot before. He’s been in a warzone. He didn’t need therapy to move forward from it then and he shouldn’t now. He can—he can handle this. He can make himself get over it.

He’s already spent months leaning heavily on everyone around him. The thought of not being okay, of asking for more help when he’s finally easing back into working, when things are finally getting back to normal, when they all have their own issues to focus on—

God, it makes him want to throw up.

So...no. He’s okay. Because not being okay isn’t an option.

He’s fine. The panic attack was...a fluke.

“I appreciate the advice,” Eddie says finally. “I’ll think about it.”

He can tell the doctor doesn’t believe him when her lips thin.

“You know, more likely than not, the panic attacks will keep happening if you do nothing,” she points out. “Ignoring this won’t make it go away.”

“I understand,” Eddie replies. “If that’s all, does that mean I can get out of here?”

The doctor sighs. “Sure.”

Eddie’s phone rings while he’s in an Uber on the way back to his truck. It’s Ana.

He swears under his breath as he sees the time—he hadn’t called anyone, hadn’t wanted the hospital to call anyone either, but that means he’s now late for a date that he doesn’t really want to keep after everything and further doesn’t leave him with any good excuses for his absence except the truth which...he doesn’t really want to admit.

Before the shooting, Carla told him to make sure he was following his heart. And he’s been too exhausted and focused on his recovery to really think too hard about that. But now—

For a moment, Eddie considers it. Telling Ana the truth. Showing her some of the dark, messy, ugly pieces of himself. Being vulnerable.

The very idea makes him recoil. Not because he thinks she would run away necessarily, but because he just...can’t.

He can’t. Not with her.

And if he’s that uncomfortable with the idea of letting in someone he’s been dating for over half a year, if he can’t imagine himself ever actually being comfortable with that...then what the hell is he doing?

He calls her back when he gets to his truck.

“Hey—I’m so sorry, I had a little emergency—yeah, everything’s fine now, but I’m not sure I’m up for going out. Can I meet you at your place? ...okay, great. See you soon.”

He may know even less about ending a relationship than he does about dating in general, but he figures he at least owes it to her to end things in person.

Eddie goes to work on Monday feeling fine. Great, even. He sleeps well the night before, he gets Christopher off to school on time, traffic is light enough that he gets to the station early—

Everything is fine. By all accounts it should be a good day.

At least, that’s what he thinks right up until all of them get different emergency alerts sent to their phones and they find out the city’s systems have been hacked. From that point forward, everything is chaos. Damage control. Twenty-car pile-ups because stoplights are being messed with, an outbreak of animals from the zoo when the electric locks on their enclosures released—

Eddie’s fine though. He’s fine. It’s nothing he can’t handle—in fact, he’s usually great with chaos. He’s focused and sure and capable. Nothing else matters but the work, certainly not himself. When he’s busy, he has no time to think about anything else.

The gradually worsening tension in his shoulders can be ignored. The way he has to clench his hands into fists to keep them from shaking in a way he hasn’t had to do since his earliest days in Afghanistan can be brushed off. He doesn’t have time to think about anything but the jobs in front of him, which means he doesn’t have time to think about his own state.

Brush it off, pick yourself up, keep moving forward. That’s what he knows, that’s what he can do.

Except, then they end up at the hospital and—

A medevac helicopter falls off the roof. Bobby nearly joins it. Buck and Eddie barely manage to get him back.

A cold sweat breaks out on Eddie’s brow as Bobby leans heavily against the wall next to the roof access door to catch his breath. His stomach roils. He doesn’t feel fully connected to his own body, caught somehow between present and past, a rooftop in Los Angeles and a desert in Afghanistan.

He breathes in. He tamps down on the rising panic.

Bobby is fine. The helicopter pilots and their patient are fine.

He’s fine. He’s fine.

“Are you okay?”

Eddie jumps at the question, his head whipping around to find the source. Buck’s brow furrows as he holds up his hands.

“Sorry,” Buck says quietly. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Eddie swallows hard and shakes his head. “You’re fine, don’t worry about it.”

He glances toward the door. “You know, I think I’m going to head back down,” he says, hoping Buck won’t notice the fact that he hasn’t answered the original question. “I want to make sure the pilots are holding up alright.”

“I can come—” Buck starts to offer, only for Eddie to cut him off.

“Someone should stay with Bobby,” he replies. He forces a smile as Buck’s eyes search his face. “I’ll be fine.”

Buck glances at Bobby, then back to Eddie before he finally nods.

“Okay,” he says. “But here, take the radio. If anything happens—”

“I’ll let you know.”

Eddie makes it down one flight of stairs before he decides to take the elevator the rest of the way down. The numbers on the top of the doors tick down, down, down—

And then, abruptly, the elevator lurches to a halt, throwing Eddie off balance and into the wall as the lights go out, plunging him into total darkness.

His ears ring from the impact.

He’s trapped. Trapped in a metal box in the dark. A box that could easily become a coffin if the emergency stop failed and sent it careening down to crash at the bottom of the elevator shaft.

Eddie’s breathing speeds up against his will. His chest starts to hurt.

Not again, he thinks vaguely. Not here, not now, not again.

But. He can’t move. He can’t breathe. Some distant part of his mind recognizes that what he’s feeling isn’t real, that he just needs to calm down, but he can’t—

He’s going to die. He’s going to—

The radio crackles in his belt.

“Eddie? Eddie! Can you hear me?”

Eddie’s mind latches onto the sound of Buck’s voice like a lifeline in an ocean of distress. It takes him a moment to make his trembling hands work through their numbness, to remind his fingers how to work the buttons, but eventually, he lifts the radio to his mouth.

“I’m here,” he says. His voice shakes. “I’m in the elevator. It’s—I don’t know which floor. Or if I’m between floors. I don’t—”

He shudders. His eyes close, not that it really matters given how dark the space is already.

“It’s okay,” Buck replies. “It’s okay, Eddie, we’ll find you. We’ll get you out, don’t worry.”

“I don’t want to die here.” It slips out of him before he can pull it back. Buck takes a sharp breath on the other end of the line.

“That’s not going to happen,” Buck says firmly, although his own voice seems less steady than usual. “I would never let that happen. I’ve got your back, remember? Always.”

A shudder rips down Eddie’s spine and he slides against the wall to sit on the floor. The walls still feel too restricting, like they’re closing in on him more each moment that he looks away.

The radio crackles again.

“Eddie. What can I do? What do you need?” Buck asks.

I don’t know. I don’t—I can’t—

“Eddie.” The fear and desperation in Buck’s voice cuts through the fog in Eddie’s mind.

He never wants Buck to sound like that.

“Keep talking?” Eddie replies. “I—just keep talking to me. Please?”

Don’t go, is what he really means. Stay with me.

He’s never allowed himself to say those things though. Not during the early days of the pandemic when they were sharing a bed in Buck’s loft. Not after he moved back home with Christopher and the other side of his bed felt too empty for sleep to come easily. And certainly not after he started dating Ana.

During his recovery, he never had to ask Buck for anything really. Buck was always just...there. Even though he was with Taylor, he was still there with Eddie and with Christopher whenever Eddie needed him. Like he knew somehow. Or maybe as if he needed to be there as much as Eddie needed him there.

Eddie hasn’t looked too closely at any of that. He’s not ready to. It’s too much, too complicated, too—too—

Dangerous.

“What do you want to talk about?”

Eddie swallows hard as his head rests against the wall. As he allows the sound of Buck’s voice to wrap around him like armor. Like home. Insulating him against the panic and isolation.

“Anything,” he says quietly. “Just keep talking.”

And Buck does. He talks about everything and nothing, random facts and stories from his past that Eddie hasn’t heard before, he talks and talks and talks until his voice grows hoarse in Eddie’s ear and the pressure on Eddie’s lungs eases.

Eddie exhales shakily and takes a few deep breaths as he continues to listen, as his body shifts from hyper-awareness and panic to wrung out exhaustion. When Buck finally cuts off, it’s because there’s an ugly screech of metal as the elevator doors are pried open, as light filters back in.

Eddie’s legs are unsteady as he gets to his feet. He trips on the edge of the elevator door when he exits—

Buck catches him before he can fall. Because of course he does.

“Thank you,” Eddie breathes into Buck’s shoulder as he finds his balance.

Buck shakes his head. “I promised we’d get you out, didn’t I? Besides, I—I shouldn’t have let you go alone.”

“I decided—”

“I shouldn’t have let you,” Buck repeats, low but insistent. His eyes meet Eddie’s and Eddie swallows hard.

“You weren’t okay. Were you?” Buck asks. And Eddie—

He wants to lie. Part of him does at least.

But he can’t lie to Buck.

Not to Buck.

“No,” he confesses. It’s half a whisper. “No, I wasn’t.”

Buck bites his lip and nods once.

“Okay,” he says. “We’ll figure it out.”

And somehow, Eddie believes him.

#chapel writes #prompt fill #letmetellyouaboutmyfeels #buddie #eddie diaz #buddie fic #buddie ff

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weareallstoriesintheend · 3 years

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Promises (Reader x Zemo)

Zemo and his guard make their escape

Word Count: 3,395

Warnings: Violence. Part 2 of the Escape Series, Here is Part 1 Zemo Tag List: @lucky-luck-lucky @neoarchipelago @mrs-mischief-209 @londoninamerica

“This is a terrible fucking idea” You kept Zemo close behind you as you rounded the tight corner, the deafening sound of the alert alarm had started blasting the second someone realised a prisoner was no longer in their cell. You’d tried your best to get as far through the plan as possible but part of this involved trusting him to get you both out of here and something irritating in the back of your mind was making you doubt that decision. The corridor was in darkness except for cuts of light from the small windows high up towards the ceiling - sunrise was almost over. “Well I hate to inform you my dear but I’m just following your plan” Zemo whispered back, following closely at your heels as you both half walked, half ran down the corridor. “Also, may I add, you look beautiful in this light”

“Shut up” you hissed.

The alarms blaring in the corridors were making your heart pound almost as loudly. You were running out of time, you know you’d planned this down to the last second but this was reckless in the best of circumstances. The Raft was no normal prison; it was a prison for enhanced persons which meant security was tighter and much less likely to fail. Early morning was your choice due to the lack of guards around on each floor; you’d made it so that you were on inspection duty again. Due to the limited prisoners things had gotten lazy around here and you figured you could only make this work to your advantage. It was going well, it was perfect even. You’d given up trying to avoid cameras as you ran down the service corridor towards a blind spot you knew existed that would give you a moments respite ready for the final step. You would bet money on the fact they knew it was you doing this so as much you were aiming to get himout it was also imperative to get yourself out too. Who else would it be? It was Zemo and there was only one person in this whole place who would want to break his cocky ass out and that was you.

“Your friend better show up” you whispered through gritted teeth trying to steady your breathing.

“He will” Zemos breathing was just as fast but his face remained stoic. He watched you when he thought you were looking, curious eyes scanning your face. You presumed he was calculating how best to get rid of you when he was out of this place but you were doing this to give him the benefit of the doubt. Much like everyone else The Raft housed he was here because he thought he was doing the right thing. Everything he did was for his family and you couldn’t help but feel for that side of him. The man who kept his promises.

You rifled through the backpack you were carrying and handed him a pair of dark jeans and a black hoodie to change into “Wear this; I’m not walking you around wearing that uniform”. He smiled taking them from you instantly pulling the top of his prison uniform over his head; you hastily diverted your eyes. Both of you were huddled in an enclosed part of the corridor to stay out of sight of anyone who may come searching, a great choice for safety. However this also meant that, despite the fact you diverted your eyes, you could feel his bare skin brushing against your arms as he moved to change.

“I’ve had guards watching me use the bathroom for months dear one, do you really think I’m concerned by you seeing me change?” he chuckled quietly before handing you his discarded clothes, “Also how did you know my sizes?” he asked adjusting the hoodie that sat perfectly across his shoulders.

“I read your file” you shrugged. Your phone beeped in your pocket, the message simply read ‘On the roof’

You grabbed Zemo by the scruff of the hoodie and pulled him closer “Do exactly as I tell you, got it?”

He nodded “Of course, a woman in charge is simply irresistible”

You scoffed and started dragging him along the service corridor. There was an access point to the roof along here that stupidly sat in a complete blind spot from the cameras. Your heart dropped into your stomach as you heard a clear, ringing gunshot behind you “Stop right there” You sighed, knowing the gruff tones of your superior officer anywhere; you raised your hands mockingly and spun in place on your heels staring him down. Zemo followed your motions throwing you a quick, indiscernible look before his back was turned to you. “Of course it would be you. You and your boyfriend better keep your hands up where I can see them” “David listen – “ he cut you off by firing another warning shot. “Shut up” he shouted, voice reverberating off the metal walls. He reached up and spoke into the radio that was clipped to his shoulder. “Did you bring what I told you too?” Zemo whispered over his shoulder. You stuttered, your brain was going at 30 miles an hour and it was hard to keep yourself on point. You knew exactly what he was talking about; you could feel the metal of it pressing into your back. “Yes but no, you can’t” you mumbled, your eyebrows raised in panic as Zemo turned to you. You internally rolled your eyes at how surprised you felt by his calmness, it was like you’d forgotten who he was.

“I said don’t move” you heard David shout, another warning shot hitting the roof. You flinched and urged Zemo turn around with wide eyes.

“It’s now or never. Do you trust me?” Zemo asked simply.

You paused, searching his face for any sign of deception. Sighing you lowered your arms, you blocked out the frantic shouting from David as best you could by keeping your eyes trained on Zemos. You could see David in your periphery with his gun raised; you slipped your hands behind your back and under your shirt. You pulled out the weapon you’d been given by Zemos friend and slotted it into his hands.

Before you could blink Zemo spun with the gun raised. You had expected him simply to shoot but he began walking slowly forward towards David, you panicked and your feet stumbled after him. He shot one hand back firmly to stop you before returning it to its steady position holding the gun.

“Stop right there Zemo” David shouted, his gun also raised and trained on Zemo who was steadily still walking towards him. You could see Davids confused panic matching your own.

You shuffled on your feet wanting to shout out to him to stop, did he have a death wish?! Then you remembered the story he’d told you about Siberia and your heart pounded harder. He’d held a gun in his hand then too but you certainly don’t have the bulletproof Blank Panther armour to stop him this time. ‘Please tell me he’s not going to commit suicide by cop and just leave me here’ you thought to yourself, begging to the voice inside your own head. David was practically screaming instructions, ranting demands in his confusion at Zemos steely defiance. Then before you could ascertain what happened Zemo fired a shot. David dropped – it was that quick. Mere seconds. Blood oozed slowly out onto the cold concrete floor and you stared half in shock.

“You know for a man who was always so hot on officers wearing protective uniforms you’d think he’d a least wear a scrap of armour himself” you whispered, thinking out loud. As Zemo reached you once more you tsk’d and smacked his chest hard “Don’t show off like that again!” He chuckled and tucked the gun into the back of his jeans. Pushing his hair back he then gestured to the laddered stairs that lead to the roof, “After you” You made your way to clamber up the ladder, “Don’t stare at my ass!”

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

As you reached the roof the helicopter blades were already going, winds blasted you both causing your hair to swirl in front of your face. You watched Zemo greet the pilot with a small wave and he began walking forward towards the open helicopter door. For some reason it was at this moment your body froze. Your hair whipped your face and you struggled to stay in place with the force of the winds but you couldn’t move your feet. You’d given up everything, just like that – he’d somehow convinced you to give up everything for him. There was no way to come back from this, not one single way.

You wanted to scream at yourself for being stupid or naive but you couldn’t help yourself - you trusted him. You didn’t understand how or why but you did; something about him made you want to follow him to the ends of the earth and never look back. If someone asked for an explanation you wouldn’t have the words and that was a strangely beautiful notion to you.

Something told you he was a good man; despite his past and all he had done he was a good man. He had murdered, tortured and maimed but to you he was a lost soul who needed company. A man who had lost everything and fought like hell to keep one simple promise.

He shouted your name over the whirring blades, you looked up to see he had stopped also and he was running back to you, crouched low to avoid getting hit.

“Second thoughts?” he asked as he got close enough to you to lower his voice, a small smile played on his lips. You shook your head but didn’t speak. He stepped closer to you again, almost toe to toe “I apologise about your friend”

“H-he wasn’t a friend”

“Then why did you stop?”

You opened and closed your mouth stupidly, like a fish gasping for air, but no words came out. You felt him cautiously put his hands on your upper arms, running his thumbs over your skin.

“I promised I would protect you, you deserve a life outside of this prison as I do” You noticed that despite the strength of his Sokovian accent it was also calm and delightful in its gravelly tone. You found it almost comforting listening to the way he formed his words so delicately.

That was the moment you realised it wasn’t that you didn’t believe him, as he spoke you trusted what he was saying, you trusted he wasn’t lying. It wasn’t Zemo that had made you stop.

“It’s just… this is the first time I’ve been in fresh air in 9 months”

His eyebrows rose in surprise at your admission before his face softened, he reached up and ran the backs of his fingers down your cheek. He didn’t speak but took your hand and pulled just a little. You staggered on your feet but followed, he placed his hand softly on the back of your head as you both moved together to keep you low and out of harm.

He stepped in first, speaking in Sokovian to the pilot whom he called Oeznik. Scrambling in behind him you gathered your backpack between your feet. You sat huddled against him as a deep shiver wracked through your body. He looked down with sympathy set behind his eyes and leaned his arm across your shoulder. You leaned forward out of his touch suddenly and bent down for your bag.

“I apologise, I didn’t mean too-“ he began hesitantly, afraid that he’d offended you with his physical affection, but you stopped him by sitting up and placing a small plastic wrapped package into his lap.

“What is this?” he asked curiously, turning it over in his hands before unravelling the wrapping slightly. Small hard multi-coloured candies tumbled out into his waiting palm.

“Turkish Delight. You said your son liked them.” you blushed at your own words, embarrassed at the familiarity you showed him and you were unable to hold his eye contact as you continued “I thought it would a comforting introduction back into the world”

He unwrapped a sweet and popped it into his mouth, he closed his eyes and a soft smile spread across his face. You watched him for a second before he opened his eyes; you gave him a shy unsure look before he leant in and placed a gentle kiss to your cheek.

“Thank you milaya”

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

“Holy shit” you whispered under your breath.

The room he led you into was expansive, he’d told you this was one of his homes in the area but the place looked like a palace inside. Everything was adorned in deep ornate gold tones with rich ruby and burnt orange colours intertwined. The ceilings were impossibly high and housed a huge crystal chandelier that twinkled in the beaming sunlight that came through large elaborate windows at the back of the room. The floors under your feet were intricate mosaic tile and you suddenly felt the need to tread a little lighter in your heavy boots.

“Impressive isn’t it?” he smirked; he gesticulated to a rack of clothes that was against one wall. “You need to change, pick anything you like” and with that statement he disappeared behind a curtain. He was still sort of visible to you, ruffling around in what you presumed were his own clothes.

“So what, I break you out of prison and you give me a dress? Seems like a fair deal” you said sarcastically, voice raised so he could hear you.

“No, you break me out of prison and I give you the life I promised you. If you want it” he shouted back.

“You’ll be on the run for the rest of your born days Zemo. What life?!” that panic had set back in again now you were out in the real world. Your fingers tapped against your thighs and you stared around you wide eyed. This was all so overwhelming.

“Exactly. We can go wherever, whenever. We’ll stay in the shadows and live how we want too”

He appeared from behind the curtain, he was now dressed cleanly in fresh black jeans and an aubergine purple turtleneck. He draped a fur collared coat around his shoulders and extended his arms “You like it?” he grinned at your staring.

You swallowed hard and nodded. He looked expensive and far out of your league. As you absentmindedly smoothed rich silk materials between your fingers you suddenly remembered you’d run away with a Baron. The teasing smirk still played on his lips as he approached you, he traced down your arm watching the way his touch raised goosebumps on your skin.

“You think people are just going to let you go? The Raft will be looking for you. The Wakandans! You think they are just going to let this slide?”

He shushed you and pushed hair out of your eyes “What I said was no lie, you deserve a life and I’m going to give it to you. A woman as skilled and beautiful as you deserves to show off no?”

You swallowed again, nodding gingerly at his words trying to convince yourself more than him to calm down and trust him.

“Why am I picking out dresses?” you asked quietly, noticing you were still slipping silk material through your fingers that belonged to the beautiful dresses far beyond your pay grade.

“We’re going out” he said matter of factly, walking across the room and pouring himself something from the decanter on the side.

“We can’t go out!” you protested frantically, abandoning your dress choices and scurrying after him. You grabbed him by the forearm of his free arm and gripped him tightly.

“I’ll only take you to places where I know you will be safe. Let me show you freedom” he whispered, leaning close to your face. Whispers of whatever golden brown liquid he was drinking filled your nostrils and you exhaled the breath you had been holding. He put the glass down and spun you so your back was against his chest, his breath ghosted over your exposed neck and you resisted the urge to shiver. He directed your body towards the wrack of clothes and brought his lips to your ear, “Plus any chance to see you out of that guards uniform would be a blessing”

You tutted and wriggled out of his grasp, rolling your eyes at him over your shoulder before turning away hiding a blushing smile.

You hummed to yourself, pushing clothes back and forth on the rack before you pulled out a wine red dress, admiring its beauty. The red was deep against your pale skin, the feeling of the silk was like butter and the thought of it brushing your upper thighs made you tremble.

Like he could read your mind Zemo had walked quietly behind you and placed a hand lightly against your thigh, brushing his fingers with just a little pressure. His voice at your ear snapped you out of the trance “It will suit you”

You took the dress, grabbing a pair of shoes, and sauntered behind the curtain. Gingerly starting to remove your clothes that were sticking to you with sweat you thought about how you could probably do with a shower but something told you there was no time. Your body was thrumming with anxiety, your first night of freedom from that place – for the both of you – and mostly you wanted to relax and enjoy Zemos company. Talking to him without bullet proof glass and steel bars between you seemed like bliss in your head. The thought of getting to brush his hair back as he spoke, like you had thought of doing so many times, made your fingertips tingle. But you were still fighting back a nervous tremble that shook your entire body, was this going too far? Was it too soon? He could sense your anxiety from behind the curtain as you moved quietly but hastily so he spoke up, voice soft “I mean it, you are mine. I keep safe what is mine” You poked your head out from behind the curtain holding the gold shoes you were about to slip on; you raised a stern eyebrow at his presumption that you were ‘his’. He smiled, playfully trying to peek behind the curtain but you pulled it up to cover yourself “You know what I mean” he said.

You giggled and pulled the curtain back fully, watching his eyes drift down your figure as you smoothed the silk of the dress over your curves self-consciously and bent to fasten the shoes, “I know” you said with a soft smile.

He guided you closer to him with light hands, just the cautious tips of his fingers creating a tantalising pressure on your hips, “You look simply ravishing” he gushed; accent accentuating the low gravel of his voice. You simpered and shook your head, he tsk’d at your defiance “You do, a princess!”

You openly laughed this time, pushing against his chest teasingly “Shut up”

He smiled with you, refusing to let go of your hips and pulling you back, the heels of your shoes clicked quietly on the tile floor as you stumbled closer to him raising your hands to press against his chest to steady yourself. He drifted his hands up your body, caressing you through the thin fabric of your dress, eyes studying every inch of you. His fingers linked gently into your hair, massaging ever so lightly against your scalp and you sighed closing your eyes for just a split second. Suddenly you felt lips press against yours; you gasped and he took that chance to deepen the kiss just a little. You whimpered softly and your fingers tightened their grasp on his clothes before sliding down to wrap around his waist as you melted against him. This wasn’t a moment for hot and heavy; it was affectionate and shy – a delicate exploration of something new, terrifying and captivating. As you felt him lean slightly back from you your eyes fluttered open, body protesting his momentary retreat.

“I keep my promises” he whispered against your lips.

“I know you do”

#mcu #mcu fic #marvel #marvel fic #helmut zemo #baron zemo #zemo x reader #zemo x ofc #baron zemo x reader #zemo x you #zemo fluff #zemo fanfic #oeznik #zemo angst #baron zemo fic #zemo #falcon and winter solider series #falcon and winter soldier #tfatws

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nevernotwriting · 4 years

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You, Me, and Yancy | Chapter 3: Night at the Museum

Read me on AO3!

Previous chapter

You and Mark spent the rest of the day planning your heist. You combed over every inch of the blueprints you created, right from the air vent entrance on the roof to the sewers underneath. Jasmine even took the liberty of fetching takeout for you just before she left, though you weren’t sure you’d be able to stomach it.

Before you knew it, it was 8:45PM; time to go. You and Mark agreed to make your own ways there and meet up inside the museum, leaving you to your own devices to get into the building. This panicked you at first, but Mark squeezed your hand reassuringly before departing.

You made it to the museum just after 9PM, hoping you didn’t look too suspicious riding the metro dressed in all black with a satchel full of clanging heist equipment. Not the most stylish way of arriving, you thought, but it was better than a security camera catching your car’s license plate.

You crouched outside the museum in the bushes, gently pushing aside the leaves and peeking forward. Right on schedule, a guard walked past the entrance, idly whistling a tune to himself as he went. With eyes trained on him like a hawk, you waited until he was out of sight before taking a confident leap out of the bushes and running towards the building with light footsteps.

You looked up, readying your grappling gun you’d already taken out of your bag. The vent was on the roof, many, many feet directly above you.

Your stomach lurched. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath as you launched the hook. Before you could even talk yourself out of it, you were shooting through the air, stone and metal whizzing past your eyes as the breeze picked up and chilled your bones.

You made it onto the roof with a slight stumble, but you were unscathed. Your heart was hammering and your legs felt like jelly, but Jasmine was right; you’d never felt more alive. Maybe this was going to be fun.

Sure enough, the vent you needed was right in front of you. You took the cover off and crawled in, pausing for a moment to remember which way you needed to go.

Forward. Just straight forward. That’s right.

You shimmied onward, trying to stay quiet as you passed a few grates. At the end, you found the grate you needed. You pried it open, landing on your feet when you exited.

Not bad for a rookie, you thought to yourself.

You scoped out your surroundings. You were right where you were supposed to be, so you took a second to catch your breath. The only thing missing now was Mark, but he’d be here any minute now.

A distant Tarzan wail caught your attention. You turned to your left, only just managing to shield your eyes as Mark leapt through the roof and sent shards of glass flying everywhere. He stumbled the landing but barely flinched. You didn’t even have time to freak out about the noise he made before he launched into a speech.

“All right, you know the plan, right? Pfft, what am I saying, you practically wrote it!” He grinned at you. Your ears still twitched, listening for guards running to investigate the broken roof, but so far, nothing and no one had stirred. Either Mark was extremely lucky, or overconfident in his entrance.

The two of you ran things over one more time before he got ready to leap off once more, casting you an uncharacteristically dark look.

“Now, stick to the plan, and you’ll be just fine. But if you deviate from it for even a single moment, I won’t come back for you. Okay? Good luck!”

He shot you a devilish wink just before he grappled away, letting you know he was just messing with you. You appreciated the humour on your first heist, and you felt your nerves dissipate as you moved to the next phase of the plan. You could tell Mark was showing off for you at times, performing unnecessary cartwheels and somersaults to evade the guards. He grinned at you from behind his cover as you threw a baseball to distract a guard, and pointed friendly finger guns as he swung away yet again to get the key needed for the vault.

It took all your strength not to squeal in delight as you fed the guard dog the gigantic steak you’d packed in your bag. You snuck the keys from her jacket as she closed her mouth round the meat, a trail of drool following her as she happily walked away.

Okay, there was no denying it; this was a lot of fun. Sure, it was a little nerve-wracking at times, but nothing had gone wrong so far. Mark was keeping an eye out for you, just as he promised.

The heist seemed disappointingly short by the time you and Mark finally reached the artefact, but neither of you could contain the excitement on your faces as Mark shoved the box into his bag. Glory would soon be yours. You imagined Mark picking you up and swinging you round in a tight hug after you got back to HQ, high on adrenaline and filled with shared excitement for your first successful heist. Maybe he’d sweep you off your feet right then and there, take you out for dinner early to celebrate, and end the evening with a magical-

Unfortunately, your imaginary bubble was soon popped. It couldn’t all be sunshine and rainbows. The room turned red with flashing lights, alarms blaring in your ears. A look of panic streaked across Mark’s face for a split second, making your stomach tie in knots again, but it was quickly replaced by a look of deviousness. He pulled out an antique gun and… a bomb? From his bag. He gestured to the manhole to his right, then to the door you had crept in through.

“Sewer would probably work, all quiet-like, but, y’know,” he wiggled the gun and the bomb in his hands, “I like a little action.”

You couldn’t resist the look on his face, and any rational thoughts were drowned out by the adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

“Let’s give ‘em hell.”

Mark let out a deep laugh from the depths of his throat. “I was hoping you’d say that. Fire in the hole!”

Before you had time to react, he launched the bomb towards the door, clouding your vision with bright flames followed by white smoke. Your ears were ringing from the noise and you nearly lost your balance, but Mark grabbed your hand and led the two of you through the plumes, both of your footsteps losing all traces of stealth as you ran together through the gunpowder exhibit. The guards soon caught up with you, sending a wave of bullets your way. The two of you dodged around wildly, picking up your pace as the exit came into view. You kept running, not looking back until the museum was out of sight. Mark held your hand until the very last second, letting go when the two of you made it onto a wide, grassy field with two convenient escape options; a helicopter, and a car.

You panted and whooped in delight. Going out guns blazing definitely hadn’t been a wise decision, but it would sure make for a good story back at HQ. Who else could say they escaped a room full of explosives on their first heist, all while being shot at?

Mark gave you the honour of choosing your escape route. Your mind was still a little scrambled from all the action, so you merely nodded towards the helicopter.

Mark sprinted towards it, eagerly motioning for you to follow as sirens sounded in the distance. However, as you came down from your adrenaline high, your lower side filled with a hot, searing pain.

Something was very wrong.

You stopped in your tracks, breath halting with dread. You looked down, unzipping your jacket. Your hand immediately dampened as you lifted your shirt, your eyes landing upon something you’d hoped wouldn’t be there.

Maybe you weren’t so lucky dodging those bullets after all. On your side was a small, round wound. Hot blood oozed out of it, sticking to your side and trailing down to your belt.

“Mark…” your mouth was dry as you croaked his name.

Mark whipped round to face you. All the previous excitement drained from his face as he took in your injury, eyes filling with horror.

“I think we might have another problem on our hands,” you quipped. You managed a weak smile before your vision blurred and your legs gave out. You hit the ground with a thud.

Mark dashed over to you, cradling your face in his hands. Your focus came and went in waves that matched the thuds emanating from your side, where your hand was still stuck in a desperate attempt to stem the bleeding. Mark’s eyes filled with tears as he tried to keep you awake.

“Oh, shit, no! Zero, come on, you gotta get up! We-we’ll get you back to HQ and get you patched up! You’ll be fine! Zero, please…”

His desperate plea was drowned out by the blaring of police sirens. The last thing you saw was Mark kneeling beside you, raising both hands above his head as the night sky filled with blue and red flashes.

Next chapter

#a heist with markiplier #ahwm #heist mark #heist mark x reader #heist! mark x reader #yancy x reader #ahwm yancy x reader #ahwm yancy #my writing #nevernotwriting

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what-is-your-plan-today · 5 years

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Stark Spangled Banner- One Shot:Empire State of Mind

Katie Stark and Steve Rogers- How it all began…

So this is a little different to how I normally write, so I hope you all enjoy it. I was listening to the radio and ‘Empire State of Mind’ by Alicia Keys came on and it gave me a bit of inspiration.

Warnings: Language!

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist

Grew up in a town that is famous as a place of movie scenes

Noise is always loud, there are sirens all around and the streets are mean

If I can make it here, I can make it anywhere, that’s what they say

Seeing my face in lights or my name in marquees found down on Broadway

Something catches her eye on the coat hooks by the door. A light blue coat. A woman’s coat.

“Babe…” he begins, but she isn’t listening. She pushes past him into the apartment and glances around. There’s a pair of heels by the couch. Her blood runs cold

“Kay…”

Pushing open the door to the bedroom she stops dead. There’s a woman in there. A blonde woman. Lying, in the bed. On her side. Her chest tightens, her word crumbles and she turns to her boyfriend, who is stood in the doorway, guilty expression on his face.

“Katie…”

She punches him square in the nose, brings her knee up sharply into his groin leaving him groaning on the floor before she runs, stumbling onto the street. The rain is cold as she gasps for breath, shaking with anger. Before she knows what she is doing, she’s dug a huge scratch down the side of his car, his silver Audi A5, his pride and joy, with her keys. And then the red mist well and truly descends and she wrenches open her trunk pulling out the socket wrench for the tyres…

“Katie…what the fuck…”

She hears his yells as she brings it down with a crash into one headlight, then the other in a fit of rage she doesn’t ever recall having had in her life before. A hand catches her wrist and she spins round, trying to escape out of the hold.

“LET GO OF ME GRANT!”

“I will if you drop that…” She does, and it clatters to the floor as she looks up, tears falling down her face mingling with the cold March rain.

“13 fucking months.” She sobs, her voice quiet “What was it for you, all lies?”

“No, course not…I love you baby…you know I do, I fucked up….” She looks straight into those warm, hazel eyes, the eyes she loves so much and something inside her breaks and it physically hurts. She needs to get away.

“Fuck you…” she whispers softly before she turns and walks to her car.

Even if it ain’t all it seems, I got a pocketful of dreams Baby I’m from New York! Concrete jungle where dreams are made of There’s nothing you can’t do Now you’re in New York! These streets will make you feel brand new Big lights will inspire you Hear it for New York, New York, New York!

She is sprinting. The base is about to collapse on top of them, and they run through the tunnels, weaving in and out of the falling structure.

“We’re clear upstairs sir,” Agent Coulson says on the radio. “We’re good to go.”

Together they hurtle out of the doors and sprint towards a helicopter which is waiting. Agent Fury shoves her up and into the cab and the helicopter starts to fly up in the air just in time before the ground crumbles below them.

She presses her face against the window, glancing down as the facility crumbles. But that wasn’t what she is looking for.

Sir!“ she shouts, pointing when she spots her target.

"Move,” Fury orders the pilot. The pilot turns around and drops altitude, fast. Both whip out guns and she closes one eye and pulls the trigger. Windscreen glass smashes and the jeep swerves off the road and onto the grass verge, making her smirk slightly, Clint has taught her well. She takes aim again but this time doesn’t get a chance. Loki aims his sceptre at the helicopter and hits, causing the helicopter to stall and lurch.

“Jump…!” Fury yells, grabbing her arm. And she does. She rolls along the floor, covering her head as the helicopter passes over and crashes about 20 feet away.

“Shit!” she groans as she gets to her feet, the jeep now well out of range, both hands grab at her hair in frustration.

“Director,“ Coulson says on the radio. "Director Fury do you copy?”

"The Tesseract is with a hostile force,“ Fury replies, glancing at her and then back at the helicopter. "I have men down. Hill?”

“A lot of men still under,” Hill responds. “Don’t know how many survivors.”

“I want every living soul not working rescue looking for that brief case.” Fury commands.

“Roger that,” Hill complies.

“Coulson, get back to base, this is a level seven, as of right now,” Fury continues into the radio. “We are at war.”

“Sir, what do we do?" she asks. He turns to face her and takes a deep sigh.

“He hit us hard…” Fury said, as the sound of another chopper approaching his her ears. “So we hit him back harder.” On the avenue, there ain’t never a curfew, ladies work so hard Such a melting pot, on the corner selling rock, preachers pray to God Hail a gypsy cab, takes me down from Harlem to the Brooklyn Bridge Some will sleep tonight with a hunger for more than an empty fridge

He rounds the street corner, someone is stood there selling something, yelling “Buy some time! Get your time here!” If only he thinks to himself. He spots a café and crosses the street, settling down at a table. He purchases a cup of coffee and pulls out his sketch book, sketching the large building that stretched above him. It’s only when he really paid attention he notices that it reads STARK across the side. He snorts, the building is just the type of thing he would expect to be associated with Howard’s son.

“Waiting for the big guy?” a soft female voice says.

“Ma’am?” he looks up from his drawing, confused slightly as the waitress stands with the coffee pot in her hand.

“Iron Man,” she explains. “Lot of people eat here just to see him fly by.”

“Right,” he says, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Maybe another time.” He pulls out his wallet and drops some cash on the table preparing to leave when the Waitress speaks again.

“Table’s yours as long as you like,” she says kindly, “Nobody’s waiting on it.” She pours him some more coffee and as she walks away she says, “Plus we’ve got free wireless.”

“Radio?” he mutters. She turns back and smiled.

“Ask for her number, you moron,” An elderly man says from the next table over. He stares round at him, confused for a moment, then simply shakes his head.

Everything, even his fucking Baseball team is gone and finding that out is the thing that tips him over the edge, the thing that makes him lose his shit completely, the thing that had him cursing the fact he has been pulled out of the damned ice in the first place. At 10 pm he is in the gym, taking his frustrations out on a punch bag.

Fist after fist, punch after punch as memories fly before his eyes.

"There’s not enough time! I gotta put her in the water.”

“You won’t be alone,” Peggy whispers.

He grips onto his wrapped hands tight and punches the bag in bitter remembrance. He throws one last hard punch across the punching bag that makes it tear away from the ceiling, and broke the bag of sand apart. He is out of breath, trying to calm his anger down. He brushes the sweat away from his forehead and goes to pick up another sandbag by the chains. He starts to hook it up on the ceiling, takes a deep breath and starts again.

Then hears the door open and heels clicking on the laminate flooring of the gym.

“Trouble sleeping?” A soft, female voice speaks, a touch of amusement in her tone. Her accent wasn’t local. He looks up, and for the first time he sees her. Perfect lines, curves, and bright green eyes.

I'ma make it by any means, I got a pocketful of dreams Baby I’m from New York! Concrete jungle where dreams are made of There’s nothing you can’t do Now you’re in New York! These streets will make you feel brand new Big lights will inspire you Hear it for New York, New York, New York!

They’re in Stuttgart. They’ve traced Loki.

“The sceptre is dangerous.” she says, her eyes flashing as she watches “That’s how he got Barton and everyone else under control. That has to be the first priority, stop him using it.. But even without it, he’s powerful…”

“Alright I’ll take Loki…” he speaks, inhaling. “You start moving these people out to safety.”

She nods, and slips off to the left. He turns to watch Loki again, waiting for his opening as Loki bears down on the old man who has challenged him.

“Look to your elder, people. Let him be an example.” And then, as he raises the sceptre and it started to glow blue he knows he can’t wait any longer. Instinctively he flies out from the shadows, diving in front of the man, blocking the blast with his shield. The beam reflects and knocks Loki down backwards.

“You know, the last time I was in Germany and saw a man standing above everybody else, we ended up disagreeing” he says, as the crowd starts to dissipate around them.

Loki cocks his head, but his attention is soon drawn to a point over his shoulder.

“You know we really have to stop meeting like this” she says loudly as she draws level with him, staring at the dark haired man whose attention flickers to her.

“Hello, again Agent Stark…” Loki’s twisted grin spreads across his face

“Yeah, hi…” she shrugs, waving, concentrating on keeping him talking enough to let people get out of the way and back up to arrive “How many times is this, 3? You know you could just ask me on a date…” “It is nothing but sheer, dumb luck that has kept you alive the last 2 times we met…”

“Well technically the first time we didn’t meet. You sent that big fire shooting robot thing after your brother, you didn’t actually come yourself. Why was that? Too scared?”

He side eyes her. She’s good. Definitely has Howard’s gift of the gab. He sees Loki’s grin slip again, before he sneers down, his attention flickering from the woman to his left and over to him.

“And you. The soldier. A man out of time”

“I’ve got a shot…” Romanoff sounds in his ear and he gives a little smirk.

“I’m not the one who’s out of time.”

But it never works out how you plan, does it? As Romanoff sends him a warning, Loki replies by sending his own- a blast of blue at the Quinjet, which maneuverers upwards just in time. And then they fight, the 3 of them. Ducking, diving, kicking, vibranium flying, shocks sounding. Loki is strong, the strongest opponent he has ever fought and at one point the god gains the upper hand, tripping the Captain, sending him to his knees. As he stands over him, he has his head bowed, as Loki, points the tip of the sceptre on his helmet.

“Kneel…”

“Not today!” he says, flipping his body over and then she runs forward, aiming a two footed kick at Loki’s chest which sends him stumbling backwards. They begin to fight again, almost like they are performing some kind of twisted tango, then suddenly there’s a loud blast of music. She instantly stills and looks up, scanning the sky for something.

“Hey Kiddo, did you miss me?!” a male voice asks and her face splits into a grin. He looks up to see Iron Man fly over the top, blasting Loki backwards to the ground.

He lands in between the Captain and the Agent, turning to look at the woman. “You know one of the problems of little sisters is always having to bail them out.”

“You’ve never bailed me out of a fight yet!” she snorts indignantly as Iron Man turns to look at Loki, his suit shooting out every piece of weaponry it contains.

“Make your move, reindeer games…”

Loki puts his hands up and surrenders, his armour suddenly vanishing leaving him in a long, emerald green jacket with a black leather trousers and top underneath.

“Good move.”

“Mr Stark…” he says, not looking at him as he greets his friend’s son for the first time.

“Captain…”

One hand in the air for the big city Street lights, big dreams, all looking pretty No place in the world that can compare Put your lighters in the air, everybody say Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!

They lose Loki, but get him back again after she talks his brother, the God of Thunder down in the middle of the forest. Then they row, about SHIELD building Weapons with the tesseracts, about egos, about being on a threat list.

“Wait, you’re on that list?” Tony looks at him “Are you above or below angry bees?”

He feels the anger bubbling in his chest and he snaps back, stepping forward towards the man, holding his gaze.

“Stark, so help me God, if you make one more wisecrack…”

“Threat! Verbal threat. I feel threatened” Tony says, pointing at him.

“Tony for once in your life shut up!” she yells at her brother, angry flushes redden her cheeks.

“Who died and made you President?” Tony childishly replies and raises his eyebrow at her

“God you’re such a dick!”

“Fuck off!” Tony replies

“Hey.” he feels himself snap again.

“What’s your problem now?” Tony glares at him.

“You shouldn’t speak to her like that.” he has no idea why but he feels compelled to defend her. Her brother snorts. “Thanks but I can handle him on my own…” she folds her arms and looks at him, but it isn’t an unkind glare. It’s almost a thank you.

“You speak of control yet you court chaos.” Thor’s voice loudly cuts over everyone quieting the room down slightly.

“That there, that’s his M.O., isn’t it?” Bruce Banner points at Thor “I mean, what are we, a team? No, we’re a chemical mixture that makes chaos. We’re a time bomb"

“You need to step away.“ Director Fury speaks darkly.

"Why shouldn’t the guy let off a little steam, right?” Tony asks placing his hand on the Captain’s shoulder as if they were old friends.

“You know damn well why, back off.” he says said angrily throwing Tony’s hand off.

“Oh, I’m starting to want you to make me.” Tony says straightening up in front of him.

He smiles somewhat condescendingly. “Right, big man in a suit of armour. Take that off, and what are you?”

“Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.” Tony shoots right back.

At that point she steps in between them both.

“Stop it!”

“I know guys with none of that worth ten of you.” he hisses and she spins, gently pushing on his chest. He acknowledges her touch by stepping back slightly but he continues to goad Tony “Yeah I’ve seen the footage, the only thing you really fight for is yourself. You’re not the guy to make the sacrifice play, to lay down on the wire and let the other guy crawl over you.”

“I think I would just cut the wire.” Tony responds nonchalantly.

“Tony I mean it…” she says, still in between the two of them as she spins back to face her brother. “For once in your life…”

“Always a way out.” he can’t help but bite back, “You know you may not be a threat but you better stop pretending to be a hero.”

“A hero?” Tony repeats in disbelief, and with that he moves his sister out of the way, stepping forward. “Like you? You’re a laboratory experiment Rogers, everything special about you came from a bottle.”

“Put on the suit, let’s go a few rounds.” he hisses, the two men now almost nose to nose.

Thor’s loud laugh rings across the lab “You people are so petty, and tiny.”

“Not helping!” she snarls, rounding on the god.

The sniping continues until Banner makes them all nervous as he picks up the sceptre. The tension diffuses somewhat as the location of the Tesseract is found, but as he watches her read the screen, he has a split second to register the look of shock and horror on her face as she locks eyes with him, before the ground shakes as they’re hit.

Differences are thrown aside as they battle their enemy. Loki escapes, sending Thor plummeting to Earth and after transforming into the Hulk they have no idea where Banner is either. They regain the archer, Clint, Hawkeye.

But Coulson is dead. And she thinks it is her fault, for choosing to try to release Thor, but he assures her it isn’t, and that he would have done the same. A gentle hug as she cries is all he can do. She’s small in his arms, but not weak. Now the mood is solemn as they are left floating in the sky, with no idea what to do next. All previous differences are put aside as they grieve, mourn the loss of one of their own. And then it’s back to business as they figure out Loki’s play- he wants a monument in the sky with his name plastered all over it after all.

And the Avengers assemble on the streets of Manhatten.

In New York! Concrete jungle where dreams are made of There’s nothing you can’t do Now you’re in New York! These streets will make you feel brand new Big lights will inspire you

They are operating as a team now, and he falls into his natural role as leader, as Captain. His instructions as to keep the aliens fighting and their attention off civilians whilst trying to figure out how to close the portal. They’re back to back and he looks around as she takes down another alien with an expert shot between the eyes and he feels a surge of pride at how fiercely she is fighting.

“Cap.” Clint’s voice came through the radio. “The bank on 42nd past Madison. They cornered a lot of civilians in there.”

He stops dead as does she. The two exchange a look and she nods.

“We’re on it.“ He says back.

They turn and ran back in the direction of the bank. When they arrive she doubles over, catching her breath as the pair of them glance through the glass doors. Most civilians are located on the lower floor, in the lobby whilst the Chitauri stood on the upper portion of the bank, pointing their weapons down.

“Shit…” she sighs “how do we get in there without setting them off in a firing frenzy?”

He is looking around for a solution when he suddenly spots one. He points to the small annex at the side of the bank. It’s one story high with a flat roof. “If we get up there we can get through onto the top balcony of the bank.”

She nods and together they run round the back to the alley which was lined with dumpsters.

“You saw Nat right?” he asks, gesturing to his shield. She nods and easily clambers up onto the dumpster. She takes a second then jumps onto the shield and he propels her easily upwards. As he watches she twists and manages to reach the edge of the building easily, the top half of her body safely over the ledge. He vaults onto the dumpster and takes a running jump, catching onto the ledge and pulling himself up. They make their way over the roof, using the various steel vent columns to hide. The aliens have their back to them both but one is doing something on the floor.

“Cap… that’s a-“

He knows what it is. And sighs. “We’ve got to get in there…”

“But how, if we go charging in then-“

“We’ve no other option…” he says, “look, I’ll go first. If you follow, hopefully we can get their attention and keep the fight on us.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer. He backs up a few spaces and then runs, clearing the meter gap between the two buildings with ease, going shield first through the window of the bank. She follows a few moments later, rolling over on the landing before leaping up. There is a moment’s pause as the aliens registered their arrival, punctuated only by the rapid beeping of the bomb in the background.

Then, the fight begins. He hurls his shield one of the Chitauri’s heads. Another one growls, shooting off its spear, as he dives for cover landing in front of a desk, kicking it forward. She approaches another one and leaps into the air, snapping its head as she arches over the top of it, before throwing it down onto the lower portion of the bank.

"Everyone, clear out!” she yells over the railing, looking down at everyone below.

He turns to another alien that was coming at him, and he raises his shield pushing the alien backwards. But another grabs him from behind in a headlock. He gives a yell as he feels it gripping at his head but he dodges under its arm, leaving his helmet behind and giving a huge two footed kick into its back, sending it over the railing. Meanwhile, his partner manages to squirm out of the hold of the one holding her and he kicks at it before spinning it round and using it as a shield to take the shots fired from the one remaining Chitauri.

“Katie!” he yells as the remaining Chitauri scrambles to pick up the ticking bomb. He races over to her, grabs her round the waist just as the Chitauri throws the bomb in their direction.

His shield takes most of the impact but the force of it sends them both flying out of the window. He twists in mid-air so that she is clutched to his chest and sheltered from the impact as they crash onto the top of a car, his body taking the blow, the roof of the car crushing under his weight and the impact they hit it with. That hurt. He opened his arms to let her out of his grip, moaning slightly as he rolls down and lands on his back on the floor. He opens an eye and stands up, looking around taking deep breaths, eyeing up the chaos. The sounds around him dim slightly, and everything seems to be moving slower. He starts to wonder how they’re going to actually win this one. He looks around and spots the civilians coming out of the bank. One of them he recognises vaguely…

“Captain… Steve!” a voice cuts through his thoughts and he spins round, pulling himself up to full height as he looks at her, then he notices 3 of the aliens stood a few feet away. He grabs her arm and pulls her behind him and his shield.

The 3 Chitauri Warriors look back at them for a moment before they launch. He does the same, snapping the neck of one, ripping the arms off another, using his shield to cave in its head. It writhed in front of him on the floor before going silent.

He turns to look at Katie, the third at her feet as she slid her gun away. They lock eyes for a split second, chests heaving as they catch their breath and then there’s a loud bang above them. Instinctively they both duck and look up, attention to the sky.

One of the leviathans has exploded in the air as Iron Man shoots out from its tail end, and comes crashing down to Earth, taking out a glass bus stop a few hundred yards from where they were. Then he flies off again, his thrusters at full pelt.

They go again, it’s a fierce fight. Shield, hammer, bullets, arrows. At one point he thinks they are clear and drops his shield to his side, and he is caught in the stomach by one of the rays which burns through his uniform, scorching his skin. He drops to his knees, clutching at his side hissing slightly at the stinging and then she is there. Green eyes searching his, asking if he is ok as she kneels down, one hand on his shoulder, the other gingerly pressing just underneath the wound as she bends to get a look at it.

And then Natasha says she can close the portal. He tells her to do it, but Tony stops them.

“I’ve got a nuke coming in, it’s gonna blow in less than a minute. And I know just where to put it.” Tony says.

“Stark, you know that’s a one way trip.” he warns, turning away from her slightly as he speaks, looking up into the sky.

“Tony. Don’t you dare I…. I…” she begins to protest and he turns to her, sadly.

“To the Stars and back, Kiddo.” Tony’s voice is calm, and she takes a choked breath at his words, the words he always spoke to her as a little girl when he tucked her in at night are echoing in her head, I love you the stars and back.

“Tony…” her voice cracks as she looks up. Tony climbs higher, and higher, past Stark Tower gaining speed before he flings himself through the portal.

Everything goes quiet on the comms. He glances down and she looks up at him meeting his gaze through watery eyes and he sticks his hand out to take hers, squeezing it. He hopes she understands what he is trying to say, that he had been wrong about her brother. He was the one to put his neck on the line after all.

“He’ll be fine…” she says, stubbornly as she turns her head back to look upwards, tears trailing lines on her dirty cheeks, visible under the bottom of her helmet “He’s never let me down before…”

They watch the explosion. The Chitauri soldiers in the street convulse and shake, then stop.

“Come on Tony…” she mutters, as she grips his hand even tighter. He pauses, but there is no sign of the eldest Stark. Nothing. He sighs, he has a code, he never trades lives, but as he watches, he knows that portal has to be closed…and what were the chances of Iron Man surviving that?

“Close it.” he speaks, the words catching in his throat as he turns to look at her, his head bowed. “I’m so sorry Katie…”

She struggles for words, her sobs choking in her throat as he pulls her close, her head burying into his chest. He stands stock still for a moment before he turns his attention back upwards to make sure the portal is closing. He wishes it could have been different, losing men never sits well with him. He feels like he has failed again, just like he failed Bucky.

But as the hole closes a scarlet and gold figure plummets down through the sky.

“Son of a gun.” he says, his lips curling up in a smile as he gently pulls back and directs her attention to the sky where Tony has made it back.

Now you’re in New York! Concrete jungle where dreams are made of There’s nothing you can’t do Now you’re in New York! These streets will make you feel brand new Big lights will inspire you Hear it for New York!

The group escort Thor and Loki to Bethesda Terrace in Central Park, the safest place for Thor to call the Bi-Frost as it can be surrounded on all sides by STRIKE agents, should Loki try and pull a fast one.

Thor firmly grasps his hand before he turns to her and pulls her into a huge, bone crushing hug.

“I will return, Little Stark” He says as he holds out a glass tube in his hands “I’m hoping that with the tesseracts power we can repair the Bi-Frost permanently.”

“Always a pleasure, just don’t bring him with you.” she grins, gesturing to Loki with her head. The dark haired god returns her jibe with a glare, which she greets with a smirk and the raising of the middle finger of her right hand. Thor nods, gently touches her neck with his hand in a sign of friendly affection before she moves back a few steps to the side of her Captain. The group watches as Tony opens the Tesseract’s case. Dr Banner takes it out, holding it carefully between metal forceps and places it into the glass tube Thor is holding. Thor thrusts the end of the tube to Loki, who reluctantly takes it. The blonde haired god shoots one more look round at the group, nodding, before he twists the handle and then the pair step into the energy beam it generates.

The remaining heroes begin to say their goodbyes and he walks over to Tony, holding out his hand and the man shakes it, smiling.

“I was wrong about you.” he says to the inventor.

“So was I” Tony says “Turns out I wouldn’t just cut the wire, huh?” He gives a little laugh as he drops Tony’s hand. He watches as Tony turns to Banner opening the trunk of his car so Banner can drop his bag into it.

She watches the exchange, smiling slightly, before she steps up to his side and speaks to him.

“So what’s next for Captain America?” she asks as he turns to facer her. “I mean, once the weeks of debriefing and analysis are over…”

“I dunno” he says, looking around. “Fury has something in the pipeline for me within SHIELD, apparently. What about you? Back to DC?”

“No, I’ll be sticking around for a while, certainly whilst the clean-up operation gets going so you’ll get to see my smiley, happy face every day…” He laughs and she pouts “That was your cue to say you’re so excited about working with me.”

“Sorry!” he shrugs, peeping out at her from under his hair.

“Whatever, anyway you’re gonna need this.” she says, handing him a piece of paper “That’s my cell number, call me.”

Steve stares at the piece of paper, his thumb stroking the writing on the page before he looks down at her.

“You know, your father would be proud, of you both.”

“I like to think so.” she smiles. “I mean, he is part of the reason I do what I do.”

There was a moment’s pause before he leans forward, hesitating slightly, before he drops a gentle kiss to her cheek. She feels herself flush slightly at the contact of his lips and the compliment, and his own cheeks flush red too.

“See you soon.” He smiles as she turns to go, grinning to herself as she walks towards Tony’s car

“Hey!” he calls and she stops, turning back to face him. “Maybe I could er, stop by the Tower sometime in the next few days, if that’s ok?”

“You do that!” she smiles “Or I’ll come find you instead.”

He nods, waves, smiles and turns back to his bike before she shouts back to him

“Oh and Cap…”

He turns to look over his shoulder

“You might technically be nearly 100 but you don’t look it so ditch the plaid, yeah?”

He frowns, looked down at his shirt before he looks back at her, she shrugs innocently before settling into the car behind her brother.

**** It was late. Almost 1 am, but her side of the bed was cold and empty. Steve raised his head, blinking. He can’t remember her coming to bed, in fact her pillow doesn’t look like she had. He sat up, still, listening slightly and then heard the faint sounds of the piano and her soft voice. He threw the covers back and padded out into the hallway and down to her music room.

He loved watching her play. She did it with such elegance, and her voice was always so soft yet sultry. As he watched, the soft lamp illuminating her features as her hair fell over her face, her graceful fingers flew to the last key and she let out a soft hum of the last note.

“You ok?” he asked giving her a moment.

Katie turned on her seat and smiled at Steve as he walked into the room and gently placed his hands on her shoulders, dropping a kiss to the back of her neck.

“Yeah…” she sighed as his hands gently began to work her muscles.

“It’s late Kitten.” “I know, I got ready for bed but just wasn’t tired.” she says, her eyes closing at his soothing touch. “Any particular reason you were singing that song?” he asked.

“Not really. I heard it on the radio before for the first time in years” she said as he worked her stiff shoulders “It got me thinking about the battle, how we first met.” At that point his right thumb found a knot under her shoulder blade which he dug into, causing her to hiss slightly.

“Sorry.” he said gently, easing off but she shook her head.

“Don’t stop, feels good” she mumbled.

“How about you come to bed and I can do it properly.” he said softly.

“Yeah and how long till it descends into you giving me another earth shattering orgasm?”

“You say it like it’s a bad thing.” he pouted.

“Didn’t say that…” she smirked as she tilted her head back to look at him and he leant down so his mouth was an inch or so away from hers.

“Come to bed.” he said softly, and there was something about the way he said it that made desire pool in the bottom of her belly and she nodded, gently pressing her lips to his.

He stepped back allowing her to stand and she turned off the lamp and slipped her hand into his as he led her to their bedroom.

@the-omni-princess

@momobaby227

@geekofmanythings16

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takadasaiko · 5 years

Text

Houseguest Chapter Twelve

FFN II AO3

Summary: The boys finally catch some time to breathe and Pepper makes it home.

Chapter Twelve: See You in New York

Three men stood waiting, no one breathing. Steve found his own stomach tied up in knots, the idea of Tony not pulling through to the next day, the next year, or anything that followed unacceptable. After everything he'd been through something in him had been hesitant to connect in the way he had before. Bucky. Losing him had left a scar deeper than any physical attack could, but standing there in Howard's son's home while the would-be younger man fought for his life, he felt the same kind of tug that he had when he'd willed himself to have hope that Bucky was alive in Hydra custody. He needed that hope to move forward. He couldn't lose this man. He couldn't lose his friend.

Finally, after what seemed like a lengthy eternity, brown eyes sluggishly opened. "Hey."

"Hey back," Rhodes answered. "How're you feeling?"

"Like shards of shrapnel have been clawing through a little closer to my heart."

"Not as close as you might think," the Air Force colonel assured him. "I gotcha, Tones."

"Always," Tony breathed and his gaze eased around to Steve and cleared his throat. "What about you? You went down hard and stayed down. Didn't think that really happens."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you sound worried," Steve teased lightly.

"Good thing you know better," Tony managed to chuckle. His hand went to his chest and he grimaced. "How long was I out? Please tell me you didn't bring her inside."

"Ms Mira is still safely unconscious in the containment unit," Jarvis announced.

"Outside," Rhodes confirmed.

"Exactly what do you plan to do with her now?" Ito asked carefully, and he looked like he was readying himself to hate whatever answer tumbled out of Tony's mouth.

The younger man quirked an eyebrow. "Well she's not leaving with you," he answered as he started to pull himself up to sit on the couch. Steve shot Rhodes a questioning look, but was waved off.

"You don't have the authority to keep her," Ito shot back and Tony rolled his eyes dramatically.

"Guess it's good I don't plan to." He stood with that, a little unsteady, and started limping his way slowly towards the door.

"Has he ever been big on sharing his plans?" Steve asked, drawing Rhodes' attention to him.

"Not in the nearly thirty years I've known him."

_______________

It took SHIELD nearly two hours before they showed up. While that gave Tony the time to make sure that JARVIS had gotten all the readings they'd need and successfully saved the data to his private servers, he was working on an energy deficit by the time Fury and his people had arrived.

And the SHIELD Director himself did show up, leaving Ito gawking as they hauled Ellen Mira up and onto the tricked out helicopter that they'd arrived in. Introductions were made in passing, Tony too exhausted to do much more than promise that JARVIS was already transferring all necessary data over to SHIELD so that they would be prepared to handle her. The portable containment unit would hold her until Tony could whip up something more permanent for them and, potentially, even reverse the effects of the tech.

That said, he'd all but kicked Fury and Ito both out. The sun was starting to climb up over the horizon and he wasn't going to be on his feet long. It was bad enough that there was anyone around to see him stumbling and limping his way towards the stairs, but he'd be damned if it were either of them. Trust only went so far, and Cap's assessment may have been right when he said Tony's motto was never let them see you bleed.

Neither Rhodey or Steve tried to stop him as he made his way upstairs. The most he got was Cap asking if he was good and he gave him a thumbs up before winding his way around and to the top of the stairs above the waterfall and across to his bedroom.

His bed had never felt quite so comfortable. He sank down into it, never having managed to get out of his shorts and tank top that he'd been sleeping in earlier - his robe discarded in his workshop when he'd jumped into the suit - and buried his nose in the nearest pillow. It still smelled like Pepper.

Tony slept the better part of the day. The sun was on its way down the next time he remembered opening his eyes. He got up, showered, and was planning to go downstairs for whatever food he could find, but somehow found himself crawling back into bed. It was nine the next morning before he woke up again.

Voices drifted up from the kitchen as he eased his way down, his entire body still in full protest of the battering it had received. He rounded into it to find Steve leaned casually against the island in the middle of the kitchen and chatting with a sight for sore eyes. "Hey, Pep. When'd you get in?" he greeted.

She turned and those beautiful blue eyes of hers lit up as she set the spoon she'd been using to stir batter down and crossed the space between them. "Hey. You're awake."

He reached out for her as she approached,pulling her closer and into a kiss. "I am. Is it Saturday already?"

"Friday. I came home early." She held up a hand as he started to protest. "Deal's secure and everything's set."

Tony offered her a lopsided smile. "Never has any doubts."

Pepper's own smile was soft and somehow he was feeling better already, even as she gave his hand a squeeze and returned to her breakfast prep. He eased his way over to join them. He looked to Steve who had ducked his head a little as if he were trying to give them as much privacy as he could without leaving the room. Tony hopped up so that he was sitting in the counter next to him. "How're you feeling after getting tossed around like a rag doll?"

"Amazing what a little downtime can do," Cap answered lightly.

Tony grinned. "I mean, you are on vacation right?"

That earned him a chuckle and eye roll before that gaze swept him up and down on his perch. "You have a few chairs around, you know."

"He likes to pretend that he's tall," Pepper popped off as she started heaping batter into the waffle iron.

"Rude."

"Also true."

Tony shrugged, regretting the action almost instantly as the pain radiated down through his body. He turned back to the blond who looked thoroughly amused by their banter and a whole lot more relaxed than he had been when he first arrived. "So how long we have you for, Cap?"

"I thought I'd leave out early afternoon. Maybe make it to San Francisco before it gets too late."

"You're leaving already?" Pepper asked, her tone a little put out as she shifted the waffle to a plate and handed it to him. She turned a look on Tony, the silent question of if he wanted one met with an enthusiastic nod.

"It's been… a wild ride, but I should let you two have some downtime." His lips tilted up at the corners. "Anyway, I'll be seeing more of both of you once the tower repairs are finished. If the offer still stands."

"I won't be there full time, but you should have a room waiting by the time you get back to New York," Tony answered. "Just pick up that phone I know you know how to use."

"I was thinking about sending a carrier pigeon."

"Was that a joke? You hear that, Pep? He thinks he's funny."

Cap snorted as he took a bite of his waffle, Pepper handing the next one to Tony before starting in on her own. Rhodey called towards the end of breakfast, checking in and apparently he'd been saddled with coordinating with SHIELD for the transfer since Tony had been useless for the last twenty-four hours or so. All in all, it was the calm after the storm. One that they'd earned tenfold.

_______________

It had been a long time since he'd slept nearly that much in one stretch and he'd forgotten how disorienting it could be. The day started later and he wasn't quite sure if the sluggishness came from his brain taking a while to wake up or whatever had caused the lengthy nap in the first place. He was inclined to think it was the latter on that particular occasion.

He thought the pain might have faded a little after crashing out for as long as he did. That or Tony was just distracted by Pepper's stories from London and Cap's description of his plan for the sojourn back to New York City.

"Where are you staying in San Francisco?" Tony asked from his place curled into a chair in the guest bedroom that Cap had been staying in.

"I don't know yet. I'll find a… what do you call them? Holiday Inn?"

Tony turned up his nose. "You don't want to stay there."

"I stayed at a couple of them. They're a chain, I guess?"

"They've been around forever."

Steve tugged at the strap on his bag and slung it over his shoulder. "New to me."

"There's a really nice one on the oceanfront. Pep'll know the name. It's -"

"Probably out of my price range, Tony." He started out the door, grabbing his shield that was leaning against the wall on his way out, and Tony dragged himself up to his feet to follow.

"I know the owner."

"Of the hotel you can't remember the name of?"

"Or you could just stay here another couple of days."

Well that had slipped out without him really meaning for it to. Ah well. No taking it back now. Not that he thought he really wanted to.

He caught the small smirk that tilted the taller man's lips before he said, "I would, but it might make it hard to pop your question to Pepper."

"Pop what question to Pepper?"

Tony's head snapped around to where his girlfriend was standing in the hall, one ginger eyebrow quirked upward and an expectant look on her face. He flashed her an innocent grin. "Pep. Perfect. What was the name of that hotel right off the water in San Francisco?"

She wasn't fooled for a second and his smile only got him so far with the woman that knew him better than anyone else, so he followed Cap down to the garage where they'd stored his bike, watching him fit his bag and shield to it with practiced ease. Finally, once everything was in place, he turned back around. The blond stood there for a long moment, studying him. Finally he pulled in a breath and stuck his hand out awkwardly. "Thank you, Tony."

It took half a beat longer than it probably should have for Tony to realize he was trying to shake his hand. "Says the man that backed me up the last few days," he chuckled as he reached to meet him. "It was good to have you here, Cap."

"I'm glad I came."

"Even if we both nearly got blown sky high?"

He ducked his head a little. "I'm not… after everything that's happened… It's good to know I've got a friend I can trust."

Tony stared at him for a long moment before running a hand back through his hair, the flippant statement that came immediately to his lips shoved back for a more honest one, dangerous as that could be. "Same with you, Cap. I'll see you in New York."

"Maybe with fewer explosions?"

"A guy can dream, right?"

The two shared a chuckle and Steve grabbed for his helmet, fitting it on and hopping on the bike. He waved, and as Tony returned it he felt Pepper approach from behind, echoing the same motion. She slid an arm around the small of his back and they watched as the man Tony's dad hadn't shut up about sped out of his garage.

"Glad he came?" she asked softly.

"Yeah."

"Good." She turned and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Now what question were going to ask?"

Tony sighed. "You know… I had the whole thing planned out perfectly before he dropped in on date night."

"All of what planned, Tony?" Pepper asked, genuinely looking confused now.

Screw it. He couldn't wait any longer. "Will you move in?"

She blinked hard. "Move… are you sure?"

The brief flash of excitement that had flushed through him with the question immediately dissipated. "Only if you want to..."

"I just know how you are. You're a little particular about your space." A small, soft smile tugged at her lips. "You know you'd need to clean some of the closet out right?"

"I mean, there's plenty of closet space in the guest rooms…." She shot him a look. "... for me to put my stuff in to make room for yours."

"Do you really want me to?"

"I just know I want you with me."

Her smile broadened and she leaned in, her fingers ghosting along the side of his face as he met her halfway for a kiss. "Should I take that as a yes?" he mumbled against her lips and felt her laugh, leaning in to deep the kiss a little more.

Things had changed since the Battle of New York, and with every day they seemed to weigh on him a little more, but his little circle of people that he loved and trusted was growing and deepening, despite the scars left on his soul. Maybe, just maybe, he'd come out of this alright after all.

_______________

End

Notes: And so ends the fic that I never meant to write in the first place. You know, twelve chapters and thousands of words later. What can I say, I can't say no to Tony and Steve reluctant bromance :P

I don't have any immediate plans on another multi chapter with these two coming, but I will start posting a script I wrote for nano this year from a project tenetively titled the MIT Years that's an admitted pipe dream of a project that I'd love to pitch to Disney+ someday. I wanted to see if I could get an hour-long episode from plot points to finished first draft all within the month of November and I did, so I'll start sharing that soon. I also have some Howard Stark (often with Steve Rogers and/or Peggy Carter with him) one shots that I've been working on. The first is Midnight Oil and that's up. I'm poking at another one in my rare free moments these days.

Thank you, everyone, for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts on this.

#MCU fanfiction #Tony Stark #Iron Man #Steve Rogers #Captain America #Pepper Potts #James Rhodes

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thatonegirljessy99 · 6 years

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Gongjunim (1/2)

Summary: You fall for Yoongi. Only problem? Your Namjoon’s little sister. Oops lol

Requested?: Yes! By @soulpunker58

Word count: +3.2K

Warning:Teasing, Fluff??

A/N: I AM SO APRRY I HAVEN'T POSTED ANY WRITING! I'VE HAD MAJOR WRITERS BLOCK BUT I PROMISE THE NEXT PART OF LONGING TO FEEL LOVE IS COMING THIS WEEK! I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS! Also, credit to whoever created this gif. Sorry I don't know who made it. Anyways enjoy!

He had your mind spinning as he cupped your cheek sweetly and kissed you softly under the tree outside your house. His lips were so soft making butterflies burst into a frenzy in your stomach.

“I love you so much princess...”

“Oppa... I was so scared you wouldn’t feel the same way and I would make things...”

“Weird?”

“Yeah,” a giggle escaped your lips as you looked up at his grinning face before turning towards the darkness of the night hearing something.

“Y/N!”

“Present!” you scream standing up before being pulled back down to your seat.

The class busted into laughter as you looked around embarrassed, biting your lip awkwardly as your best friend sighed behind you.

‘Second time this week… fuck’

“I know Miss Kim, nice of you to remind me that. But I was asking if you could solve the problem on the board. If you aren’t paying attention I can always deduct participation p-“

Before the professor could even finish his sentence, your eyes were already scanning the board to analyze the problem and solve it faster than what most students could in the class.

‘Deduct participation points my ass’

“5i over 7 minus 4i would have the top and bottom multiplied by 7 plus 4i leaving the new equation for the denominator to be 49 plus 28i minus 28i plus 16. Once simplifying the denominator, you would have 35i minus 20 over 65 which would turn into 35i over 65 minus 20 over 65. So, you final answer in standard form would be negative 4 over 13 plus 7 over 13i.”

The class fell silent as they looked at your professor work out the problem on the board only to find you were right, as per usual. You were the youngest person in the class, math having always been your strong suite, and you were the only student that was known to have to switch classes when it came to math. Normally it would just be the teachers switching classes, but you had to go up stairs to the advance senior classes when it came time. Currently you were taking college algebra with a professor that loved to call out anyone he thought wasn’t paying attention. Which was you most of the time, but that is not the point right now.

“That is correct… please just look at the board next time Miss Kim. Or at the very least please take notes,” the older man sighed going back to teaching his lesson to the rest of the class.

“You are by far the biggest queen of bullshit I have ever met in the history of this school,” Sunny laughed as you guys walked out of the class and headed to the lunch room,” You were so far gone and yet you were able to make him shut up for the second time this week. I think you could set a school record for how many times you just bullshit your way through class. Now tell me what you keep day dreaming about. And I will not except anything less than the full story.”

“Honestly, it's some cheesy shit that you would see on one of out dramas. It’s me outside of my house with some guy that calls me-”

“Princess! Hey! How's my favorite girl?” a voice from behind you called out before you felt a long arm wrap around your waist to pull you close to his side.

A chill ran down your spine when you looked up to be met with that signature gummy bear smile that made your heart melt in a second. By now you would think you would be use to it from how often you saw this smile, but nope!

“Oppa! Aish! Stop it! Your being embarrassing!” you blushed pulling away from your brothers' best friend.

You’re not sure when your little school girl crush started for him but sometime during middle school you started to feel your cheeks heat up whenever the tall boy looked at you for too long or gave you a compliment out of the blue. Which for you came more often that you needed it to. Especially around a certain someone you should be blushing around.

“Tch, why do you have to be so mean to oppa. I’ve called you that since you were a baby,” Yoongi smirked letting go of you and bowed towards your best friend,” I remember calling that loser Bambi from how much she tripped in dance class.”

Sunny rolled her eyes and pulled Yoongi down to her height by the ear as she glared into his soul. In hindsight Yoongi would be smart enough to know not to say something like that to a girl like Sunny. But of course, he wasn’t, and now you were here.

“Mmm, don’t forget lover boy, I might be short but I’m still your senior one year and am top of the dance department on the girls end. So! Unless you’re my Hope, don’t ever fucking bring up my dancing again, got it Min Yoongi!” Sunny practically hissed through her forced smile at the cold face of Yoongi who was trying his best to not show exactly how scared or in pain he was.

Normally you would have understood if someone would have said that she was over reacting, but as students at the Conservatory for the Fine Arts of Seoul, Sunny had earned the right to be snippy with anyone that had something to say about her dancing. Just to get into this school was mission impossible but to stay in the school was a whole other level of stress. All the students here were considered the future of their industries respectively. Sunny was number one in the girl's department of dance, number two in the whole department. But that changed every other term since she and Hoseok interchanged spots whenever testing came around.

But the friendly competition didn’t hurt their relationship. Only Yoongi who didn’t know when to shut his mouth.

“Hey! Hands off the best friend,” your brothers voice boomed from behind the three of us as we got to the lunch line making me grown just from pure instinct.

Oh look, that person you definitely should not be blushing around!

“Oh, calm down, he can still use his other ear to hear his voice crack mid-way through a song,” she smirked letting go of Yoongi's ear finally.

Seeing Yoongi get ready to say something to her, your hand went to his wrist catching his attention as you smiled shyly at him making his cheeks flush before looking away as he rubbed his ear and walked over to your brother.

“Mmm, if only you could see how whipped you have him. I don’t think I have J-Hope wrapped that tightly around my pinky,” Sunny snickered in a low voice handing you a tray before starting to serve herself some food,” imagine if Rap Monster found out that his little sister had his best friend completely brainwashed.”

“Shut up.. It's not like that between us. I’ve known him before either of us got into the conservatory. He’s like a brother to me,” you started, feeling your cheeks begin to flush as you scooped rice into your bowl and covering it with chicken curry.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Save that for someone who believes it,” Sunny chuckled waving off your denial as she turned to smile at you,” but no one would ever believe either of you if they saw you two together, ma cherry.”

A deep sigh escaped you lips as you looked at your friend with a smile of pure amusement.

“Ma chérie... please remind me never to practice my French on you,” you laughed wrapping an arm around your best friend as you two walked to your usual round table.

As you two sat down you were quickly joined by Hoseok and Yoongi, both of them having two soda cans on their trays. Of course, then being followed by Namjoon who sat between Sunny and Yoongi.

“So how are my favorite girls?” Hoseok grinned as he placed a soda can down in front of Sunny, pecking her lips sweetly before taking a seat and winking at you.

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t start flirting on my girl in front of me,” Sunny glared playfully at the bunny faced boy, elbowing him softly before beginning to eat the kimchi she had served herself too much of on purpose.

“Can both of you losers not hit on my little sister, please? I don’t need her being corrupted by you two weirdos,” Namjoon rolled his eyes while taking a long drink, Yoongi looking at you kindly before handing you the extra soda can he had brought to the table.

Smiling at Yoongi, you took the can and opened it before giving a side glance at Namjoon. It was not the first time he had made this type of comment, nor would it be the last as far as everyone could tell. To Namjoon you were still that 6th grader that was auditioning to get into the same school as him. You are the girl that goes from school straight to your house and practiced and did your homework and you have only one friend. Or at least that was probably what he thought as since he didn’t know about the times you went out to a few house parties here and there.

“Wow, you got her a drink and not me?” your brothers voice snapped you out of your small trance you had not noticed you had fallen into.

“Aish, Namjoon! Leave him alone. He’s just being nice. Unlike you, Yoongi actually cares about your little sister. You should be nicer to her. Poor thing is going to die single if your keep being such a helicopter parent,” Sunny snorted feeding Hoseok who nodded as he chewed through his mouth full of kimchi.

“Mm thanks for that kind reminder of my lonely impending death,” you grumbled getting a spoonful of rice and curry into your mouth.

Yoongi chuckled rubbing your back as you slouched forward not wanting to talk about your relationship statue. Or lack thereof relationship.

The rest of the day went by as ordinarily as it got. You went to your music classes, vocal performance, music theory, piano practice, dance practice, and your advanced classes, later waiting at the front gate to go home with Namjoon.

By now it was seven in the afternoon, many students still being inside studying and doing class work. It was a long school day but that was the price all of you were willing to pay in order to be the best of the best. After all, there was a reason why you had chosen to sell out your childhood for a shot at being a star.

As you waited, leaning against the wall, you couldn’t help but groan when you over heard a small group of girls that was in your dance class gossiping and giggling as they walked past you on their way home. All you could hear them talking about was the new kid in your class, Jungkook. Or as all the girls had begun to call him, Kookie. Why? Because “that Kookie could be my snack.” Gross. So fucking gross. Yeah sure he was a pretty good dancer, and your new partner for this first quarter, but it never ceased to disgust you how quickly girls in her class could fall for a guy just for his looks.

From: RM

Forgot to tell you I had a study group after school. You can head home or come to the library if you want to wait for me

Looking down at your phone as it went off, you quickly typed an answer just so he knew you had seen his message before letting a small sigh escaping your lips.

You start making your way down the street towards your shared apartment a few blocks down from the school looking up at the sky. It was funny to you how you basically never got to see the sun during the week anymore. Well you and all of the other student that lived in your district. Many of the students from the conservatory lived within the same area because the school didn’t provide dorms and many of the students came from many different parts of South Korea just to be a part of this place.

As you made your way up the stairs that lead to your building you noticed some fluffy mint locks that had been the result of someone buying the wrong hair dye and a blue and yellow jacket you were used to seeing in your house.

“Yo, yo, yo, Agust D,” your yelled running up to Yoongi and bumping him with your shoulder playfully making the guy readjust his glasses, "What up homie?”

Realizing who it was and what you had just said, Yoongi's face looked pained as he laughed and turned to look at you in amusement. After seeing you do this some many times you would think that he would be used to this cringy act but he was pretty sure he would never stop dying inside when you tried to act like what you thought a rapper acted like.

“Gongjunim, how about we make deal and you never do that ever again,” he laughed shaking your hair with his hand to mess with your hair, knowing you would just swat your hand at him to stop.

“Aw, but I’m just trying to be as cool as Agust D,” You chuckled fixing your bag on your shoulder before getting it taken from you by Yoongi as you two walked side by side up the road.

“You know I hate being called that right?” he asked giving you a side smile as he rolled his eyes,” if you're going to call me anything other than my name call me Suga. You know I like that a lot more when you call me Suga.”

“But all the girls at school call you it. ‘Oh, Agust D is so cute’ ‘no he’s sexy’ ‘have you seen his body roll, I literally die’. Oh, and my absolute favorite ‘have you heard his voice? I bet he could say some nasty things while he makes me forget my name',” you said mimicking the girls you had hear saying throughout the school on a normal basis.

“Oh, come on gongjunim. You know I wouldn’t have eyes for any of those girls. They love Agust D, I want someone who loves Yoongi,” he chuckled looking up to the sky only to feel a water droplet fall on his now,” hey why don’t we go into my house and you can have a drink with me.”

“Fine but let me just text Namjoon that I’m going to be out.”

“Mmm was he expecting you home?”

Shaking your head, no you two began to run up the rest of the stairs where there was a small building entry as rain began to pour over you. Quickly rushing into his living room as soon as he opened the front door, you both laughed at how soaked you had gotten in the short span of time and how both of you now looked like a mess. It wasn‘t the first time you two got caught in the rain but it had been a while so the feeling of running through it together brought back old memories of when you were both younger.

“How long has it been since we danced in the rain?” his voice chimed as he looked at the door and then back at you with a soft smile.

“Remember the dance from Trouble Maker I did for my audition?” You asked leaning back against the wall.

“Yeah, that was three years ago.”

“That was the last time I danced in the rain,” you mused looking down at the water spots on your shirt from running through the rain,” I have to dance it again with some guy from my performance class in two weeks.“

“Some guy? I heard that you got partnered up with Jungkook-“

“Please don’t remind me. Every girl is crazy about him in my year and we’re all two years older than him,” You groaned rolling your eyes before looking over at Yoongi,” Don’t you just love how the conservatory has high school and college students all in the same place.“

“You know they do it based on your level. And you only have one year left before you get to audition in front of all the companies and pray that you make it big, but until you get to join me on stage lets change into some dry clothing before you get sick in that outfit,” he chuckled placing a hand on the small of your back, leading you back to his bedroom.

“Shhh, what your brother doesn‘t know won’t kill him princess,” a smooth voice cooed into your ear as you giggled nodding.

His hands had been all over you as you two danced against each other and now he was leading you back to another room. It wasn‘t long before you got inside the room that your back was slammed against the wall, his lips on your neck, your hand in his hair. He was like a damn drug and you couldn’t seem to get enough.

“How the hell is it that you act like a child when I change in front of you, but I have never seen you bat an eye when those girls from your year flirt with you wearing practically nothing,” you smirk leaning against Yoomgi after downing your shot of soju.

You two had gone through three bottles of sake by now and you had gone from sitting across from Yoongi to almost sitting on his lap from how close you two were. Yoongi's arm was around your shoulder as he chuckles and shakes his head putting a finger your chin to make you look up at him.

“Damn you and that stupid smile,” he chuckled causing you pout as his smile widened at you.

“Y/N, you’re always dressing so cute to school, how am I supposed to see you as anything other than pure,” he teased poking the tip of your nose only making you frown.

“I’m not pure oppa... In fact, I can show you exactly how much I have changed since we were kids,” you whisper as you straddle his lap and moved his hands to your hips,” those dance classes are good for more than just dancing on stage.”

Biting his lip, Yoongi can’t help but check you out as you begin to move against him, grinding your hips onto him only causing his hands to begin to explore under the oversized shirt you had on.

“You’re my best friends' little sister... this is so wrong,” Yoongi hummed closing his eyes as you begin to kiss his neck, making him groan slightly as he felt your teeth graze the skin right below his ear and then pull on his earlobe.

“You’re not stopping me...” your voice cooed into his ear before a knock on the door interrupted your moment.

“Yoongi! Y/A-ah! It’s pouring out here! Let me in!”

“But that is...”

#suga x reader #yoongi x reader #bts #bts suga #bts yoongi #min yoongi #suga #thatonegirljessy #y/n x suga #yoongi #y/n x yoongi #Gongjunim

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omicuddler · 7 years

Text

Come Back Home- Part 4

Part 4/?

Clint Barton x Daughter!Reader

Summary: After your escape from the Tower, you decide to make a run for it. However, you make some shocking discoveries that may jeopardize your safety. Will you survive?

Warnings: kidnapping, violence, graphic scenes

WC: 2,194

Prev | Next | Masterlist

Falling was a strange sensation. It was like you were weightless, and everything around you was warping and passing by.

Windows mirrored your reflection as you were plummeting off of the Stark Tower.

The ground grew closer and closer, and panic coiled inside you. You began to look around for something to possibly catch your fall, but you knew that physics wasn't on your side.

No matter what you could possibly find, you were going too fast for any object to stop you from crashing into the asphalt bellow and dying instantaneously on impact.

The ground was even closer than before and your time was running out. By now, there was a crowd forming and watching your helpless plummet. In their minds, it was a suicide attempt.

They weren't exactly wrong.

You closed your eyes and braced for impact as the wind whipped your hair and clothes around.

That's when, truly, the strangest thing had happened. You had stopped falling.

You peeped open your eyes to look around, only to find that you were hovering above the ground just by a few inches.

Your hands and legs were spread out in the shape of an "X" and you just floated, taking deep breaths and trying to process what had exactly happened.

You heard gasps around you as people cautiously approached you. As soon as you lost the concentration you didn't know you had, you flopped onto the ground.

You groaned, winded from the fall and the flop, as you got up from the ground and dusted yourself off, "Go on then, nothing to see here.", you yelled to the forming crowd, shooing them away like pigeons.

You looked around for any SHIELD agents before looking up to the floor you were on seconds ago. You could tell they were looking down at you so you ran.

It would only be a few more minutes before SHIELD agents and the Avengers would be hot on your tail.

You booked it down the street and down the ally, having absolutely no idea where you were going. Running as fast as your legs could take you, you took a chance to look behind you.

Big mistake.

You could see familiar figures on motorcycles heading after you. You were certain of their identities when you saw the unmistakable glint of sun on a metal arm and the roundness of a shield: Bucky and Steve.

It made sense that they would send them first. They were New York natives, and they knew every nook and cranny of Manhattan and Brooklyn. You spied a tight ally across the street and you had formulated yet another horrible plan.

Maybe this is why Clint was so intent on keeping you under house arrest.

You waited a few seconds for the bikes to catch up until they were in strike distance. They were close enough to make eye contact but too far to slow down.

You locked eyes with Steve for a second, an evil glint in your eyes. You saw confusion cross his mask-hidden face before realization hit him like a train. He tried to slow down and even made a grab for Bucky it was too late.

You stepped and ran across the street, causing the grown men to tumble off their bikes in order to avoid a casualty on the streets. You smirked at them as you saw them cough and attempt to stand back up on their feet.

Dust and smoke clouded the air, masking you from the two as you made your way to the alley and you wiggled your way through, out of sight.

When you were sure you were out of sight, you took a moment to stop and breath. All of the running and falling had made you light-headed. Your blood was pumping with adrenaline and other neurochemicals, making you hyper-aware and even dangerous, according to the Avengers.

You stared at your hands and pondered what was going on. But before you could get too far along in your thinking, you heard a faint beeping. It was more like a small, muted chirp.

You looked around you for immediate threats. Bombs, intruders, captors, the like. When you could find anything, you grew frustrated and anxious. You evaded death once, and you weren't sure if you could do it again.

That's when you saw it: a blinking light.

You drew out your arms to their full length and you looked at the crook of your left elbow. A soft white light was blinking rapidly and the chirping sounded every other second. A tracking device.

You banged your head into the brick wall behind you. Knowing you had to move soon, you just sighed and weaved your way through alleys and apartments, trying to distance yourself from the agents and Avengers as much as possible.

After you have been running for 15 minutes, you decided to deal with the tracker. Any other efforts would be futile unless you got rid of it.

Clint probably injected the tracker after they found you, probably to keep an eye on the monster they had taken home with them.

You were about to dig through for something sharp when a headache slammed into you like never before. Your head was filled with a million thoughts firing in rapid succession one right after another. Your skull grew tight and you began to hear a ringing in your head that grew louder and louder with each passing second.

The pain was so overwhelming that you were trying to stay upright. The pain progressed and began to come in waves, each new wave more painful than the last. By the fourth wave, you cried out in pain and fell onto all fours. You grabbed your head, tears streaming down your face.

Everything was too much. Every smell was amplified, every sound was as loud as an airplane turbine, your sight began to fade in and out.

"Make it stop...", you whimpered even though you knew nobody could hear you. You looked down at your tracker and you saw that the light was no longer white, but red.

You furrowed your eyebrows and tried to comprehend what exactly happened before another wave rocked your mind, almost making you throw up from the immense pain.

"MAKE IT STOP!", you screamed, making all the nearby windows shatter and all the metal objects nearby compress into the tightest object they could possibly morph into.

Your headache stopped.

You looked around in bewilderment, and fear. You have never seen anything like this. You have never felt anything like this.

You're awe and surprise quickly vanished and turned into panic when you heard the police sirens wail in the distance and you heard the faint sound of a helicopter in the distance.

The Avengers must have reached out and sold me out as some fugitive than needs to be put down... here comes back up.

You scanned your surroundings looking for a possible escape. The walls were blocked in, and the hanging apartment building stairs were too high for you to reach. Anxiety and fear began to claw at your throat until you saw a gleam of metal underneath the piles of garbage and newspapers: a sewage entrance.

It wasn't how you planned this day to go, but you were running out of options so you quickly pry the cold metal slab away from the hole and you shimmied down the ladder, pushing the slab back into its place.

Your breathing was heavy and deep, but you tried to hold your breath when you heard footsteps approaching from above. You hear muffled voices, but you couldn't exactly make out what they were saying.

After what seemed like an hour, although it was actually five minutes, you heard the intruders finally leave. You were still hanging onto the rungs for dear life. Without sun and the damp atmosphere of the sewer system, you began to shiver.

The air was damp and rank, and you were eager to get out. However, you knew you had to be strategic and careful. Besides, you still had the tracker to deal with.

You gingerly climb out of the sewer and breathe in a few large gulps of fresh air. You knew it would take a while for the whole garbage and shit smell to wear off, but you weren't in a rush... for now.

You examined your arm once again to see that the light has gone back to blinking white. You narrowed your eyes at the device before closing your eyes and focusing on deactivating it. You knew that cutting it out would be painful, so you were trying to hack it with your own mind.

You almost got it right.

The thing with new and unpracticed powers is the fact that you never 100% know what was going to happen. Something could have the opposite effect, or something could dangerously backfire.

You felt the skin in the crook of your elbow burn and sting, yet you still kept your eyes closed, afraid to lose your concentration. The heat and the pain intensified, causing tears to form in your eyes. You focused and willed your mind even harder, but within that moment you felt a searing pain in your elbow and you felt something warm trickling down your arm.

You gather the courage to open your eyes and immediately tears start to flow and you almost pass out at the sight of your torn up elbow. But the tracker laid neatly on the ground between your two feet.

You grind your teeth and bite your tongue to keep from crying out and drawing attention to yourself. Instead, you take in gasps of air and applied pressure to your arm to keep yourself from bleeding out.

Your hand and your shirt were covered in blood, and you felt the pain all the way to your fingertips. Taking out the tracker must have taken out some muscle and nerves too. You were done for.

You slumped against the wall, crying quietly in pain and willing yourself to be strong. You felt the blood dry and crust under your fingernails, and the pain had subdued into a dull throb. You gingerly took your arm off your elbow to find that there was already new skin growing in its place.

You didn't know the full extent of your powers, but you were beginning to see why the Avengers were so concerned. Yet you couldn't believe that they had the audacity to treat you and hunt you like some animal.

You wiggled your fingers and you flinched as a sharp shooting pain rocketed up your arm. You simply shook your head and made your way out of the alley and onwards to the nearest hospital.

By the time you finally made it to the hospital, your arm was fully healed. The entire trip was essentially pointless. However, at least you were a good 20 miles away from the Avengers, and since you took out your tracker, you knew that it would take them longer to find you.

Nevertheless, you checked into the hospital under a false last name, and with great difficulty. But, you managed to find your way to the room and sit on the bed.

You were relieved when the doctor came in, and maybe you could find some answers.

"Good day, Miss (Y/N), my name is Doctor Ward and I will be conducting your checkup today," he said in a chipper tone that, for some reason, put you on the edge.

You simply nodded and smiled quaintly as he began to check your vitals. You could've sworn that you heard him mutter something, but you just brushed it off as your instincts still being hyperactive from the chase.

After Doctor Ward was finished with checking your vitals, he returned to face you. His expression was unreadable and you were worried.

Could they not find anything generally wrong with me?

"In case you were wondering, Miss (Y/N), nothing seems to be wrong here. I don't see why you're so worried about your special condition.", Doctor Ward said nonchalantly while checking his papers.

"I-I don't say anything about a 'special condition', Doctor Ward...", you said in a confused tone.

"Oh of course... I must've read it in your SHIELD file. Damn it.", he said with his back still turned to you.

At that moment, time seemed to freeze and your heart felt like it was going to pump out of its chest. You were paralyzed with shock and with fear. Even though every single nerve and cell was telling your body to get out of there, you simply couldn't move.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you never to run away from home, (Y/N) Barton?", Doctor Ward turned to you with an evil gleam in his eyes.

Before you could protest and fight, Ward grabbed the needle on the cart and stabbed it into your neck, injecting the unknown liquid inside of it.

The effects were almost instantaneous as you were overcome by fatigue, dizziness, and drowsiness. The last thing you remember is the door opening to more people entering your room and a single repeated phrase, almost like an echo in your head:

"Hail Hydra"

Tags: @flourish-et-blotts @phonegalhelp @elorajaii @dugan365@ailynalonso15@bakugaming @phire23 @huflerin @bellero @zutaraisbae @purplekitten30 @dutchlovergirl @the-winchesters-girl @void-imaginations @the-runaway-fangirl@kgbrenner @angelinaburns @kenzie—orisit @assbuttlikepie @bloggett @sapphire1727 @wearegoldeninthenight @electronicstrangerdaze

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ellygoesnyooom · 7 years

Text

RFA + Saeran forget MC: part 2

Aaaand here is round two of three of angst! This has Jaehee and Jumin, the next one will have the Choi bois! Enjoy!

Part one (Yoosung and Zen): here! Part two (Jaehee and Jumin) : x Part three (Saeyoung): here! Part four (Saeran): here!

TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of guns, blood, general violence

Jaehee

The day was normal for the two of you; you opened up the café, worked hard to please the customers, and finally closed later that night. It was just the two of you, about an hour after closing, and you both were washing dishes. She was drying, and you were elbows-deep in frothy bubbles. She had music from Zen’s musical playing through the radio, and you both sang along, having memorized the words.

“Dance with me, Jaehee!” You called happily, taking your arms out of the water and grabbing her hand, dragging her towards the center of the room. You didn’t even bother drying your hands. “MC, the dishes!” She tried to reason with you, but quickly gave in, tossing the towel in her hand off to the side and grabbing your other soap-filled hand in hers. You two danced happily, singing along to the song and gliding not-so-gracefully around the shop. She rested her forehead on your shoulder, hers shaking from laughing so hard. This was the happiest you had ever seen Jaehee, and it warmed your heart to see her so carefree.

When the bell chimed above the front door, you both froze and turned. The music was still playing, echoing throughout the café, but that was long forgotten as a man stood in the doorway, a backpack slung over his shoulder. “Sorry, sir, we’re closed. We’ll be open tomorrow morning if you-“

“I’m not here for coffee,” He growled, and as soon as the door shut, he locked it. Jaehee’s hand tightened in yours as you both stood, wide-eyed as the man approached and withdrew a gun. “Okay, lovebirds, put your hands in the air.” You wanted to spit a snide remark at him, but with a gun involved, you quickly let go of Jaehee’s hand and raise them up in front of you. Jaehee stared, wide eyed, yet did the same. “Okay, you two, where’s all the money stored?”

“We don’t store our money here. It’s in the bank.” It wasn’t a lie, but that sure did make the robber mad. He jumped forward and wrapped Jaehee up in a chokehold, pressing the gun to the side of her head. You sucked in a breath, watching as she struggled in his grip. “Okay miss, if you won’t tell me where the money is, I’ll have to take this little lady’s life. Now, we don’t want that, right?” You shook your head and started to turn, when he snapped, “No,you stay facing me so that I know you aren’t trying to pull any funny business! And keep those hands up!” Swallowing the lump in your throat, you slowly started backing up, but then realized how to get Jaehee free. You subtly waved your hand, which brought Jaehee’s eyes to you. “Judo,” you mouthed over and over until realization crossed her face.

“What are you doing, praying? Get me the money, damnit!” You continued to back up until you bumped into the counter, then started to feel your way around it to the back of the shop. He followed, shoving Jaehee forward, who had her eyes shut in concentration. “It’s right under here,” You told him. “Let me kneel down and-“ He interrupted you. “Nope, no can do. I will do it, so that I know there isn’t any funny business going on.” He started to kneel down, but since Jaehee was about half a foot shorter than the man, she jumped up, her head colliding with his jaw. Then, she jabbed her hands back into his gut, using that to break herself free and grab the gun from his hands. “Oh, so little lady knows Judo, I see,” he sneered, a grin breaking out on his face. “Great, this will be fun.”

You didn’t know Judo, so you left Jaehee to fight off the man while you ran to grab your phone. With shaky hands, you dialed the emergency service, and quickly whispered to the operator the required information. When you heard a strangled cry from Jaehee, you whipped around, fear soaking you to the bone. She was sprawled on the ground, and the man was standing above her, the gun aimed at her chest.

“No!” You cried, throwing the phone onto the counter, still on the line with the operator, and dived in front of Jaehee, just in time for him to shoot the gun. The bullet hit your arm, but through the adrenaline coursing through you, it didn’t hurt too badly. “I called the police, and they are still on the line, and will be on the way here, so I suggest you take your gun and bad-boy façade and skedaddle. Or stay, it’s your choice. Either way, you will be caught and thrown in jail for what you have done here.” You threw your arm out with a hiss of pain and grabbed the gun, yanking it from the man’s hands and aimed it at him. ”Go.” The man stared down the barrel at you before quickly turning and bolting from the store.

You threw the gun across the room with your good arm and went to your phone, telling the operator that you had been shot and your girlfriend was unconscious on the floor before hanging up and rushing to her side. Carefully, you put her head in your lap and grabbed the towel from off the counter above you to tie around your wound. “You’ll be okay, Jaehee, you’ll be okay,” you whispered, the only other sound Zen’s musical echoing throughout the room.

When the doctors let you go later that night, you went straight up to ICU, where Jaehee was. The nurses allowed you to go in, so you did, and went straight to her side. Her hand, the one you had held in your own soap-filled hand, now had IV’s taped into them. Her eyes, once open and glittering, were now shut. Monitors beeped and whirred around her, broadcasting her vitals and heartbeat. She didn’t belong in here. If that man hadn’t come in, they wouldn’t have been in the hospital in the first place.

It didn’t take long for her to wake up, but when she did, you almost wished she hadn’t. The first words from her mouth were not what you had expected. “Who are you? Why am I in the hospital?” You swallowed back your tears before saying, “It’s me, Jaehee. It’s MC. You don’t remember me, do you?” She shook her head slowly, eyes analyzing your face. “I’m your girlfriend, and our café was just robbed. You fought off the robber, but he must have knocked you down, and you hit your head on the counter or something of that nature and got knocked out.” She looked confused. “I don’t own a café; I work for C&R as Chief Assistant.” Slowly, you shook your head. “No, Jaehee, Jumin fired you months ago. You opened the Café and asked me to be your partner.”

She bit her lip and turned away, so you took that as your cue to leave and grab a nurse. Before you exited, you told her you would be back, whether she heard or not was unknown to you. You stopped by the nurse’s station and told them what you observed with Jaehee, and left.

The next day, you came back to her sitting up and flipping through TV channels aimlessly. When she realized you were there, she turned the TV off and turned her attention to you. “You came back.”

“Of course I did, Jaehee.” A small smile turned her lips up. You smiled back and pulled a chair up to the edge of her bed and sat down. “So, you say we are dating. And I was fired from C&R months ago. And I own a café.” You nodded, chewing on your lip. “That would explain why I have long hair right now,” she murmured, which made you chuckle. “Yep.” You fell quiet as she gathered her thoughts, then spoke. “I…believe you. You feel very familiar to me, like I’ve met you. And I always loved coffee, so the café makes sense. But why I was fired is beyond me.”

You took an hour to tell her about when you showed up in the chatroom, all the way up to yesterday. During that time, she took it all in, eyes and ears only for you. A nurse came in to check on her vitals, but other than that, her attention was solely on you. When you finished, she had tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry, I just… I don’t remember you. I’m trying, but I can’t.”

“It’s fine.” You took her hand in yours and squeezed. She squeezed it back, just like the night before. “I understand that you won’t remember everything that has happened, and I understand we may need to start from scratch. I’m perfectly fine with that, so long as I still have you. So don’t fret about this, okay? We will make it through, together.” You wiped a tear from her eyes, and she smiled softly. “Yes, we will. Thank you, MC.”

She never got her memory of you back, but in place of the lost memories, you two made even more. She always enjoyed hearing about stories from before the accident, and you were always glad to tell them. She was always grateful for what you sacrificed due to her amnesia, and you showed it back with your love and patience. It was hard, but you both worked together, and came back stronger than before.

Jumin

It was snowing as he made his way down to the car waiting for him. Driver Mei Kim was waiting in the front seat as he slid into the back seat, brushing off the snow from his jacket. “To the penthouse?” Driver Kim asked, to which Jumin answered, “Yes, and make it quick. My darling MC is waiting alone with Elizabeth 3rd.” Driver Kim nodded, and pulled into the street.

Jumin was particularly excited to see you this day, as he was returning home from a week long business trip. He wanted to bring you so that you wouldn’t be lonely, but he would be tied up every day of the trip and wouldn’t have enough time to spend with you. You would have just been sitting alone in the strange hotel room with nothing much to do, so he decided to leave you back.

He was going crazy at the slow pace the car was travelling. Everyone had reduced speed in the storm, the white flakes falling and whirling around the car in a white blur. Gosh, if he wanted to go this slow he would have walked! He would have taken the helicopter, but the harsh weather conditions would have made that both difficult and dangerous, so his only option was by car.

When the building came into view, his knees started to bounce slightly in impatience, but he kept his face straight and emotionless. He only let his guard down around you, of course.

As soon as the car was stopped, he didn’t wait for someone to help him out; he opened the door, stepped out, and started to briskly walk up to the door. “Mr. Han, wait! Slow down! The sidewalk hasn’t been salted yet! It’s icy!” He didn’t hear this soon enough. He took another step, still at the same speed, and his foot slipped out from underneath him. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. His arms started to flail as he teetered, forwards and backwards, forwards and backwards, until finally he fell backwards and kept going. He didn’t have enough time to catch himself, and fell onto the cement with a loud crack as his head collided with the concrete. Everything disappeared after that.

“Mrs. Han, you need to come downstairs quickly. Mr. Han has fallen and is about to be taken to the hospital via ambulance.” You stumbled back in shock. Jumin fell? And is downstairs, being ready to be taken to the hospital?

“I will be down in a second. Don’t let the ambulance leave yet.” You slammed the door and ran to grab your jacket and shoes, not even bothering to put them on until you made it to the elevator. You slammed your hand down on the main level button and slid your shoes on, watching as the doors closed agonizingly slow. “Come on, come on!” You yelled as it leisurely started its descent. The elevator kept stopping for various people to climb on or get off, and eventually, around the 30th floor, you bolted off the elevator. You ran as fast as you could, not caring who was watching or who you pushed aside. Once you reached the stairwell, you flung yourself down, running fast as you could down.

By the time you made it downstairs, you were panting and gasping for breath, but you could see the flashing lights of the ambulance outside, and see silhouettes of people moving about outside. The doors pushed open, and ran into someone who let out a surprised gasp, but you ignored them, carefully picking your way over to the ambulance. The paramedics were preparing to shut the door, telling one of the bodyguards they couldn’t wait any longer. You could see his figure on the stretcher, and men working around him. “Wait! I’m Mrs. Han, let me on!” The paramedics stopped, gave one look to her, and gestured for her to get on. You waved away any help and hopped in, settling yourself on his right side.

“I’m here, Jumin,” You choked out, gripping his hand. It was cold from the chilling temperature outside, and you wrapped your hands around his, warming it up as the ambulance took off, the sirens wailing.

The ride there was only a few minutes long. When you arrived, you were whisked away from Jumin. He was taken one way, and you were taken another to fill out paperwork. If Jumin were awake right now, he would be furious that you were alone without a bodyguard, but that wasn’t important at the moment.

You settled yourself into one of the hard plastic chairs and filled out the seemingly endless stack of papers. By the time you were done, all of the RFA had showed up. It was in the news, and they came as soon as they heard. How they knew which hospital he was in was beyond you, but you assumed since Seven showed up first, it was he who used his hacking skills to tell the RFA where they were.

Finally, a nurse came in and said he could have one visitor at a time. You stood up, wrapping your coat around you tighter as you followed her to the hospital room he was in. There were already bodyguards waiting outside, but they knew you and allowed you in.

Pushing the door open, you saw him sitting up, eyes closed and hands clasped in his lap. It pained you to see him reduced to the scratchy hospital gown and uncomfortable bed, but this was going to help him. His eyes opened and scanned over your face as you came closer and sat next to him. When you tried to grab his hand, he yanked it away. “Who are you? How did you get in here?”

That stung. “Jumin, it’s me. MC? Your wife? The bodyguards let me in.” No light graced his eyes, and they stayed steely and cold. “I am not married.” You scoffed and grabbed his hand, pointing out your matching wedding bands. “We are married, Jumin. I’m your wife, you are my husband.” At that moment, a nurse came in. Her eyes scanned over the situation going on, at you showing him your matching wedding rings. “She didn’t tell you, did she?” the woman asked you, and you could only assume she meant the nurse who showed you in. You shook your head.

“He is suffering temporary memory loss due to the trauma of him hitting his head on the cement. It should be back in a day or so, so don’t worry. The doctor has deemed it a grade three concussion, but only because he was unconscious for 24 minutes.” Jumin tensed in the bed beside you, but didn’t say anything as the nurse checked his vitals and warned you that you had five more minutes before leaving you two alone again.

“So, ‘MC’. We are married? Since when? I feel nothing when I look at you. Plus, all I need is Elizabeth 3rd to keep me happy, what makes you any different?” Tears started to well up in your eyes at this. You knew the nurse said this should pass, but what if it doesn’t? What if you lose your husband to a snowstorm? “…I’ll be waiting for you at home, my love.” You brought his hand up to your face and pressed a kiss to the backside before he could react, and stood up, leaving the hospital room.

“I’m ready to leave,” You told one of the body guards outside the door, who then paged Driver Kim. “He will be waiting outside the front doors for you, Mrs. Han. Have a safe drive home,” The guard said, giving your shoulder a sympathy squeeze before you turned and left. As you passed the waiting room, you saw Jaehee standing off to the side, talking on the phone with someone. Yoosung, Zen, and Seven were sitting in the chairs, murmuring amongst themselves. You decided you would just tell them via the chatroom that you left, and exited out the front doors. Driver Kim was waiting out front, and you slid in, slamming the door and asking him to take you home.

The next day, Jumin arrived home, but his memory was still gone. The doctor had given him pain medication for his concussion and instruction to not work or strain his brain for the next few days. You were left in charge of making sure he didn’t, but that was easier said than done when he didn’t even remember how you met, or who you were. It was as if you were a stranger who lived with him and knew his deepest secrets, and you could tell he didn’t like that.

“Jumin, you can’t do that, go back and rest.” That would result in him kicking you out of that room as he worked. That repeated, until the only rooms you were allowed in were the guest bedroom, the bathroom connected to that, and the kitchen. So that is where you stayed. You sent him texts to remind him to take his meds, and send him good morning/night text messages, but that is all the contact you had with your husband for two days. You weren’t even allowed to go by Elizabeth 3rd.

It was the end of day three of the memory loss. You were starting to worry that he would never remember you. Worst-case scenarios ran through your mind constantly, breaking you down until you just lay in bed for the whole day. When a knock sounded, you thought it was a bodyguard making sure you were okay. “Go away! I’m not dead in here!” You shouted, but the door opened anyways. You sat up quickly in bed, ready to tell the guard off, but stopped short when you saw Jumin standing there, eyes glittering. “I remember.” That is all he said. The two words brought tears to your eyes as he came closer, sat down on the bed, and engulfed you in his arms.

You two just sat like this, him holding you as you cried into his shirtfront while rocking gently back and forth. “I’m sorry, my love. I feel horrible that I did not remember you and treated you as if you were a prisoner in your own home.” You leaned back to look him in the eyes. His hand came up and brushed the tears from your face as you spoke. “That was not your fault. Yes, I did feel bad, and yes, I did miss my husband’s embrace as I slept, and yes, I did struggle. But you know what, dear?” You took his cheeks between your palms. “You remembered. I don’t know what brought it back, but you remembered, and that’s all that matters. Let’s move on from this, shall we?” He nodded, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips before drawing you to him.

“Uh, Jumin?” You murmured into his chest. “Yes, my love?”

“Am I allowed out of the guest bedroom now?” A deep chuckle vibrated through his chest as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Yes, yes you are.”

#mystic messenger #mysme jumin #mystic messenger angst #jaehee kang #mystic messenger jaehee #mysme jaehee #mm jaehee #jumin han #mystic messenger jumin #mm jumin #mm #mysme

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toosicktoocare · 7 years

Text

not a chance

Let’s mix my usual up, shall we?

Even with a lot of the Avengers assembled, they are still being overpowered by these “Disco Aliens,” the name Peter’s pegged on them when he first caught sight of their sleek, silver skin with round orbs growing from the top of their heads.

He had found them funny at first, but when the first one knocked Clint against a brick wall, things got serious fast. Yet, even with their best efforts, they are struggling, all of them. Whether it’s lingering exhaustion from their fight with some sort of man made dragon two days ago or just an overpowering strength from these aliens, they are not able to even put a dent into these things.

There’s been shouts of falling back, but they can’t, not with so many civilians taking shelter in surrounding buildings. None of the Avengers know the depth of intelligence these aliens hold, so they can’t fall back, not now. They have to keep fighting to protect the innocent people. That’s their job after all.

It’s Steve who finds the breakthrough after twenty fruitless minutes. He gets in a hit with his shield on one alien’s upper arm, and the alien dissolves into a silver puddle. It’s an Achilles Heel, Steve yells to the others, and they all start aiming for the upper arms.

They’ve each gotten in a few kills, all fairly absorbed within their own battles, when Peter notices a voice that’s worryingly absent over the comms that connects them all.

It’s not like Tony to keep quiet during battle; the older man is usually spitting out sharp one-liners without missing a beat. Peter slides a quick glance toward the older man, and his stomach plummets. There’s nine.... no, ten of those aliens surrounding Tony, but more concerning is that Tony’s down. The older man has dropped to one knee, and even despite the armor, he looks to be in pain.

Peter whips his head around for help, but everyone is preoccupied with their own fights; it doesn’t appear that anyone else has noticed that Tony’s down.

“Shit,” he breathes out, covering the alien in front of him with a mass of webs before racing toward the closest building. He climbs up half way before shooting webs toward surrounding buildings, swinging between each until he has a clear drop to Tony.

He lets go of the building and lands to the ground beside Tony with a flip. “This doesn’t seem to be a fair fight,” he tells the aliens, knowing they probably can’t understand him. He spares a glance toward Tony, and that’s when he sees it: a long, thin, silver blade sticking out of Tony’s side with a frightening pool of blood seeping our from the gaps around the the blade.

“Shit!”

“Peter, what’s wrong?”

Peter drops to his knees beside Tony, who has yet to look up at him. “It’s Mr... Tony. It’s Tony. He’s got some blade sticking out of him.” Peter places one gloved hand to Tony’s armored back as he glances toward the aliens forming a closed circle around them. “And, we’re surrounded!”

“Headed your way!”

“Me too!”

“Hang tight, kid!”

Not an option, Peter thinks. Moving Tony doesn’t seem that good of an option either, but they can’t stay. He snakes an arm around Tony’s waist and glances up, plotting a route out. It will be risky, he thinks. But, he can get them to the roof above them. He has to.

“Get... out, kid.”

Peter shoots a sharp gaze toward Tony. “Not a chance,” he fires out, voice strong, unyielding. “We’re going up,” Peter adds, addressing the others into the comms before he helps Tony stand.

“Peter, what-”

“This will probably hurt,” Peter tells Tony, ignoring Steve’s shouting voice into the comms as he shoots a web up.

In just seconds, the two tumble onto the roof. Peter scrambles on his hands and knees toward Tony, who is groaning lowly on his side.

“Tony,” Peter says, voice shaking slightly. His hands hover over Tony’s armored body. “What can I do?” He asks, trembling eyes examining the blade. “How did this even pierce your armor? I thought your armor was strictly designed for this to not happen. Does it hurt really bad? Are you-”

“Please.... shut up,” Tony grumbles weakly, and Peter mutters out a quiet “sorry” before he clamps his mouth shut.

Peter listens to the familiar clinging sounds of battle underneath, but he keeps a fearful gaze locked on Tony, and every minute or so, he will ask Tony to talk just so he knows the older man is still conscious. The older man grumbles but complies all the same, and the two remain this way until a helicopter flashes in the near distance.

“What-” Peter starts, only to be interrupted by Steve over the comms.

“That’s the medic! Go with them, Peter! We are almost done here, so we will meet you back at the tower.”

Peter breathes out a breathy “okay” along a strong wave of relief, and he clamps a hand down onto Tony’s shoulder. “Did you hear that, Tony? Help is coming.”

“Yippee,” Tony replies, voice flat, strained, just as the helicopter gains on them.

*****

Peter’s curled into a chair beside Tony’s bed, legs pulled to his chest and head dropped to his knees, and he’s been this way for six hours, not wanting to move in case Tony wakes up. The others have tried to get him to go change or get some rest, but Peter is insistent. He’s not leaving Tony’s side because he knows the older man wouldn’t leave his.

He’s just drifting into a light sleep when a groan has him shooting forward with impressive speed. “Tony,” he says, voice shaking slightly as he watches the older man’s eyes slowly open.

“I.... don’t like this... ‘Tony’ thing.” Tony mutters, voice weak, breathy, and holding strong traces of pain.

“Sorry, Mr. Stark,” Peter says quickly before planting a worried gaze to Tony’s eyes. “Are you okay? Should I get someone?”

Tony shakes his head, and Peter nods as the two fall silent for minutes until Tony breaks through the silence with a gruff voice.

“You aren’t leaving, are you?”

Peter sits back in his chair, resuming his previous position with a sigh.

“Not a chance.”

#spiderman #spider-man #whump #whumpfic #prompt #my writing #my spiderman writing #spider-man homecoming #spiderman homecoming #peter parker #tony stark #steve rogers #ya'll don't like player hate on the way this anon is worded #this was a prompt from an ask meme that was like "i wish you would write'

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malecsecretsanta · 7 years

Text

Merry Christmas, @justpresent!

This is a fic I never would’ve thought about writing before your prompt, but I had so much fun telling this story. Thank YOU! And Merry Christmas!

Summary: London’s newly-famous amateur detective Magnus Bane has been compelled to accept a case in the States, and his esteemed colleague Dr. Alec Lightwood will be traveling with him. After their last case—a brush with a serial killer than almost cost Alec his life—neither of them is the same. But all isn’t as it seems as they head for warmer climes. The outcome of this case will alter the path of their lives forever.

Read on AO3

*****

The Final Solution

The daily newspaper crinkled in Alec’s hands as he restrained his laughter. Perhaps he should’ve been dreading the petulant outburst to come, but the full-color image on the newspaper’s front page—of the always elegant Magnus Bane with a ratty deerstalker situated on his head—was just too good.

Even the cacophony echoing from the street below couldn’t sully his mood.

Someone had slipped to the press that London’s newly-famous amateur detective had been compelled to accept a case in the States, and now half of London seemed to be outside Magnus’ door. According to his adoring masses, growing in number each hour if Alec’s own blog following was any indication, Londoners were more than willing to loan out their beloved sleuth for a bit, but they were going to properly see him away and, more than likely, would be waiting at Heathrow when he returned home.

“Home” was a relative term for both he and Magnus, though. Magnus had lived all over the world—Indonesia, Spain, New York, and a brief yet supposedly memorable stint in Peru—and Alec had wandered here to be closer his sister after he’d been discharged with honors from the US Army. He’d never quite heal from the wounds he’d suffered in Afghanistan, but London had been good to him, and Magnus…. Meeting Magnus had changed his life.

Another round of applause erupted from the crowd gathered outside 221B Baker Street, promptly followed by a collective groan of displeasure. Magnus’ landlady Catarina Loss—who was most definitely not the Magnus Bane—must have ventured outside to empty her trash.

Alec tipped his head and listened, chuckling when Cat bellowed at the crowd. “Go find something else to do and give Mr. Bane and Dr. Lightwood some peace!”

Alec wasn’t her tenant, but he appreciated her protective intentions. While Magnus had remained an enigmatic character in the backdrop of Scotland Yard’s investigations for the last two years, there was no escaping public attention after their last case.

It had only been a matter of time anyway. Unlike Alec, Magnus wasn’t the type of person to fade into the background.

Alec set aside the newspaper and pried himself out of the chair with a wince. The rain today wasn’t doing any favors for the shrapnel forever embedded in the muscles of his leg, but this bone-deep ache was a direct result of the cold, underground cell he’d been held captive in until a week ago. Alec shivered. At least he and Magnus were now headed for much warmer climes.

Instead of inching apart the transparent curtains over the window—which would surely start a frenzy—Alec peered through the sheer material at the gathering below. With the volume of adulators waiting to see Magnus off, the police had blockaded Baker Street completely and the now-infamous deerstalker cap sat on more heads than he could count.

His day was only getting better.

Alec composed himself and glanced at the half-open bedroom door. “They’ll want to see you in the hat.”

“What hat?” Magnus responded. There was a beat of silence, then, “No. That hat?!”

Magnus erupted from the bedroom in a flurry of waving hands, a stream of glitter in his wake. Alec bit back a smile and motioned toward the paper.

“One time!” Magnus protested. He sulked across the room and picked up the deerstalker from the table where he’d discarded it a week ago. “The one time I set aside fashion for warmth. I’m going to murder Ragnor for releasing that picture. Perhaps that would be a case you could solve without my aid.”

Alec rolled his eyes and pushed aside Magnus’ attempt to bait him. “You’re a known commodity now. There are things the press and public expect from you.”

“They should know only to expect the unexpected.”

Alec scoffed. “Wear the hat.”

“It’s ninety degrees in the Florida, why would I need such a hat? And hat hair, Alec. Hat hair.”

“You can wear your hair…loose for the flight.”

“Preposterous. Only you see me in such disarray and you have too much integrity to expose me. Therefore, I have plausible deniability. I”—Magnus cocked out a hip and plucked at the lapels of his fitted, burgundy suit coat with a dramatic flourish—“am always flawlessly styled.”

Alec shook his head to clear the flare of attraction that skittered through his thoughts, failing completely when Magnus started to approach him.

He breathed deeply and refocused on what he was supposed to be convincing Magnus to do, instead of who he wanted to convince Magnus to do. “It’s only a few photos.”

“It’s the death of my reputation,” Magnus responded, ignoring Alec—as he usually did. He bounced onto the tips of his toes to pull the hat on Alec’s head. “You wear the hat.”

Alec swallowed thickly at Magnus’ proximity. “People will start talking about us.”

Magnus held Alec’s gaze for a beat, his eyes narrowing as studied Alec. Alec forced himself to hold his ground under Magnus’ overly-intelligent scrutiny.

“Didn’t you know, my dear Lightwood?” Magnus swiped his coat off the hook and peered coyly over his shoulder. “They already do.”

And Alec was left speechless with that damn hat obscuring half his vision as Magnus rushed down the stairs.

****

Magnus ambled down the gangway, preening at the awed gasps that had followed him for miles. He wasn’t quite used to this level of attention yet, but, quite frankly, it was extraordinarily overdue.

At his side, Alec leaned on his cane, seeking more support than usual. Magnus didn’t offer any help—Alec wouldn’t want that—and yet he found his steps slowing, allowing Alec time to maneuver along the precarious surface and toward the plane.

Alec’s mood had considerably soured since they’d left his flat this morning, but pointing out that fact would only rile Alec more.

“Am I going to have to worry about your mindset, Alec?”

“I'm fine,” Alec bit out, frowning harder.

Magnus smirked. He may have enjoyed riling Alec up a bit too much. That it now served the secondary purpose of pushing Magnus deeper into denial about his attraction to Alec only made his tongue more wicked.

Magnus raised an eyebrow, a retort on his lips, but Alec wasn't looking at him anymore. Magnus followed Alec’s gaze to the opening of the plane where the pilot stood outside, his hand extended. “Welcome, Mr. Bane.”

Magnus’ unease bubbled up at the proffered hand. He didn't allow anyone to touch him. He was a confident man—he didn’t have to fake that—but there were times his confidence covered for a deep insecurity and unresolved pain, no matter how many years it had been since his father had died.

But before Magnus had to rudely decline—a haughty dismissal seemed to bolster his reputation instead of tarnishing it—Alec switched his cane to the left and shook the pilot’s hand. “You were US Air Force, weren't you?”

The man’s eyes widened. “Yes, Dr. Lightwood, I was. How did you know?”

The man’s accent was American, not British, and he appeared to be in his late-thirties, making him of an age when the US military had increased pilot numbers in the early 2000’s. In the States, most civilian pilots came from either universities or the military and even though the capabilities between civilian-trained and military-trained pilots were nearly identical, Human Resource departments at major airlines preferred military pilots based on the breadth of their training protocol. Furthermore, while the US Navy employed nearly as many pilots as the Air Force, most of them were usually helicopter pilots and not aircraft, therefore statistically less likely to make the jump to a major civilian airline. Deductively, the odds were in Alec’s favor that this particular pilot had once been a member of the US Air Force.

Or, more likely, Alec had merely spotted the US Air Force rank pin on the pilot’s jacket—currently peeking out of a locker in the cabin of the aircraft.

“That is a trade secret,” Magnus quipped.

Alec rolled his eyes and the pilot laughed. “Well, it’s an honor to fly you both today.”

Magnus gave his best “of course it is” tilt of the chin and boarded, passing by the flight attendants and locating his seat in First Class. “You first, Dr. Lightwood.”

Alec claimed the seat at the window, stretching his leg out and collapsing his cane to fit under the seat in front of him. Determined not to be distracted by Alec’s nearness, Magnus motioned for the flight attendant. She was a lovely woman, and she carried herself with that knowledge, so Magnus beckoned her close and engaged her in a conversation that continued throughout the boarding process, with her returning to him each time she had to step away.

“Anyway,” the woman said once the aisle was clear again, “it’s a long flight, but there are plenty of entertainment choices.” She brushed up against Magnus’ arm as she leaned over him. Her breath tickled at his cheek. “Just hit the button to call me if you find yourself in need of…alternatives.”

Alec muttered under his breath.

Magnus whipped his head around as the attendant departed with a sly smile. “Did you say something, Alec?”

“Nothing. It’s fine. This is all just so…fine.”

Magnus studied Alec. “You’re nervous. What are you nervous about?”

“I’m not.”

“You’re tapping your leg—your bad leg. You’ve gnawed your bottom lip nearly open, and you look rather pale despite the red on your cheeks. You’re nervous.”

Nervous or…upset. However, Magnus refused to place any consideration into the second option. He and Alec had been working together for two years now—an accidental partnership of sorts—and although the esteemed Dr. Lightwood was gay and preternaturally attractive, Alec spent most of his time around Magnus frowning and bickering. No matter what innuendos Magnus threw at him, Alec’s frown only deepened. It was rare when it happened, but Magnus had been around enough to know when he wasn’t desired.

“Fine.” Alec shrugged. “I don’t like flying?”

“You flew all over the world when you were a soldier. Try again.”

“I’m afraid I’ll run out of entertainment choices?”

Alec’s voice dripped with sarcasm. Magnus narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips.

“Whatever,” Alec dismissed with a wave of his hand. “I’m not nervous.”

“You are,” Magnus pressed, just to be difficult.

“You know what?” Alec erupted. “How about that I have to put up with you in close quarters for the next thirteen hours?”

Magnus sniffed. “Now that I believe.”

“DON’T CLOSE THE DOOR!” a woman’s voice bellowed from the gangway.

“And there is Scotland Yard’s preeminent pathologist. Right on time.” Magnus met Izzy’s eyes as she traipsed down the plane aisle to their seats. “Good morning, Isabelle. So glad you could grace us with your presence.”

Izzy flipped him off and plopped into the seat across the aisle from him.

Magnus looked to Alec for support, but Alec simply chuckled softly, his shoulders easing. “Hey, Iz.”

“Remind me not to pack so much next time so I can take the train instead of a cab. Rush hour is impossible here.”

“Says the woman who grew up in New York,” Alec chided.

“And who would never actually step a high-heeled foot on public transportation,” Magnus pointed out.

Alec smiled at him, one of his genuine, soft smiles and Magnus had to look away.

Luckily for Magnus, Alec was asleep before the plane’s wheels were off the ground—propped against the window and a thin airline blanket pulled haphazardly over his shoulders. Like most soldiers, Alec could fall asleep anywhere within seconds of closing his eyes, but there was no consistency to whether that sleep would be restorative or not.

After two years of cataloging Alec’s irregular and often interrupted sleep schedule, Magnus could spot the signs of Alec in the midst of true, refreshing rest or fitful, nightmare-ridden unconsciousness. When Alec slept, truly slept as he did now, Magnus’ world calmed.

He’d felt very few moments of peace since Alec had disappeared nine days ago without a trace. It had taken Magnus forty-eight hours too long to work through the clues and uncover Alec’s location. Forty-eight hours of more mutilated bodies in Izzy’s morgue and the vicious dread that each time he picked up his phone one of those bodies would be Alec.

The only reason Alec had ended up a target at all was because Magnus hadn’t been home. While Alec was being drugged and dragged away, Magnus had been on a date, trying to push past this one-sided crush.

Magnus sighed.

The hideous deerstalker hat peeked out of his carry-on bag at his feet, stuffed there by Alec. Despite the grief he’d given Alec this morning, he was relieved the image of him in that hat was the one being widely distributed.

At least Ragnor hadn’t released the other picture to the media.

Magnus glanced at Alec to ensure he was still asleep, then opened the photo gallery on his cell, flipping back to a picture of Alec crumpled into Magnus’ arms, his clothes streaked with blood and dirt, and his face was buried in Magnus’ neck. Magnus’ chin was tipped up, eyes on the heavens as if he believed in God, when the truth was that the only immutable force Magnus believed in was in his arms.

He’d felt many emotions in that moment, all of them fuzzing in the background to the overwhelming crush of fear.

That embrace had lasted much shorter of a time than the picture implied. Only seconds. A few heartbeats. And each painful jolting of his heart in those seconds had changed Magnus.

His failure to protect Alec couldn’t happen again. Wouldn’t. How he felt about Alec couldn’t affect his judgement again. He’d been accused of being unfeeling before—by his family, colleagues, random strangers, and Alec as well—and if that’s what he had to do keep Alec alive, then he would.

Alec shivered in his sleep and Magnus’ heart clenched.

Magnus was reaching for Alec’s blanket to pull it fully onto his shoulder when Izzy whispered, “How is he?”

Magnus reached for the airline magazine and glanced side-long at Izzy. “He says he’s fine.”

“And what do you think?”

Magnus flipped through the magazine instead of meeting her eyes. “Why wouldn’t I believe him?”

“He was in that, that…hole for two days, held by London’s most violent serial killer. And if that wasn’t bad enough, he was forced to watch his cellmates being shot and dragged away. That’s damaging enough on it’s own, but it had to bring up memories of the mission that cost him his career. He may have been a soldier, but he’s a doctor first. Alec can’t stand to see people hurting. There’s no way he’s fine.”

Magnus pushed down the guilt that rolled through him. “He survived, Isabelle. Just as he did in Afghanistan. It’s not up to you or I how he feels about any of it.”

“But—”

“It’s not our choice. Leave him be.”

“Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Izzy sighed. “I promise I’ll leave him alone.” Magnus began to sit back in his chair, then, “If…. I’ll leave him alone if I can count on you to watch over him. Make sure he’s okay.”

“It’s not as if I’ll have anything more pressing to do once we’re on the ground,” Magnus dismissed with as much sarcasm as he could muster. He rolled his shoulders to ease the tension. “Speaking of your mysterious case, did you bring files I can review?”

“Yep. And I left them in my checked luggage. Relax, Magnus, and watch a movie or something. We’re in First Class not Business Class. We’ll talk work later.”

Magnus frowned. Deeply.

They didn’t discuss work later. In fact, they didn’t discuss work at all for the remainder of the flight, or during their connection in Atlanta, while claiming their baggage, or on the way to the hotel. And when the three of them entered the lobby of their hotel in Key West, Florida it became eminently clear why they hadn’t discussed work when Izzy turned to them to say, “I lied. There isn’t any case here. Enjoy your vacation!”

Magnus spluttered and Alec’s face turned a shade of red that was better fit for a lobster.

“What the hell are you talking about, Iz?” Alec growled.

Izzy tipped her chin up with full defiance. “You two never would’ve taken a vacation on your own and you needed one after your last case. Here’s your room key. Unfortunately, there’s a LGBT biker convention in town and everything was completely booked up, so I had to reserve one room for both of you.”

Alec closed his eyes and kneaded at the bridge of his nose, as if he was staving off a headache. “Tell me you got a room with two beds.”

Izzy turned toward the clerk.

“Your room is an oceanview suite, with a separate sitting area and…one king-size bed. I would offer to switch rooms, but I’m sorry, the resort is full.”

Magnus met Alec’s eyes and saw the same murderous intent he felt reflected there.

And Izzy…?

Izzy shrugged. “Oops?”

****

Alec stood on the balcony overlooking the marina and breathed in the ocean air, trying to find his equilibrium. Three nights in a hotel room with one king-sized bed and one Magnus Bane. The off-nights he crashed at Magnus’ loft when they were working odd hours were difficult enough, but this…?

“A vacation?!” Magnus railed from inside the room. “And a forced one at that? Both of us are perfectly capable of returning to work. We’re fine. What was she thinking?”

Alec restrained a grimace and ignored Magnus’ question. It was facetious anyway.

Alec stepped inside the room and slipped the door shut. He peered under the cushions of the bright teal couch, then patted them back into place so he could fall into their softness and pretend this wasn’t happening. “There’s a pull-out bed. I’ll sleep on that.”

“This room wasn’t an accident on her part, Alec,” Magnus continued ranting. “She brought us here under false pretenses, tearing us away from the citizens who need us, and placed us into one room on purpose. And the only reason she would do so is because she thinks we’re a couple or she’s trying to make us a couple.”

No shit.

“Maybe you should’ve worn the hat then,” Alec deadpanned.

“I mean, you and me? Together? Us? It's ludicrous.”

“Apparently,” Alec mumbled under his breath.

Magnus spun on his heel. “What?”

“I said obviously. It’s obviously ludicrous.” Alec huffed then clapped his palms against his thighs and stood. He wasn’t going to find any respite in this room. “Well, we're here now and you like to drink. So, yeah, let’s go do that.”

Magnus fell silent and Alec could feel his eyes on him as he tracked to his suitcase and unzipped it.

“I also want pie.”

Alec paused digging through his clothes and peered over his shoulder. “What?”

“Key Lime Pie.” Magnus shrugged. “We are on vacation.”

Two seconds ago he’d been ranting and now he wanted…pie?

Alec shook his head in disbelief. “You are fucking maddening.”

“I’m reasonable,” Magnus corrected.

Alec gathered up a pair of running shorts and a fresh tee from his suitcase. He hadn’t exactly planned on dressing casually for an entire weekend, so his workout gear would have to do. “Right.”

“We are a thirteen hour plane ride away from home and everyone there thinks we’re working, so they’re not going to bother us. We’re in Key West—the home of Hemingway, endless sun, sandy beaches, and the ubiquitous Key Lime, of which, I hear, they make excellent pie.”

Alec headed for the bathroom with his clothes in hand. “So go get yourself some pie.”

“After that drink,” Magnus said, seemingly decided. “I could use a drink or ten right now.”

Alec pushed the bathroom door nearly closed, knowing that Magnus would continue to talk, then rested on the edge of the tub and began to undress.

“Do you think the hotel restaurant is passable or should we—” Magnus pushed through the bathroom door and his eyes widened. “What are you doing?”

“Getting changed. If we’re going to be here for the next three days then I’m going to have to change clothes a few times.”

Magnus’ eyes lingered on Alec’s bare chest for a brief second, then he rotated on his heel and strode out of the bathroom. “There’s no reason to get sarcastic with me, Alec.”

Alec exhaled a world-weary sigh and finished getting dressed.

The outlook for the day didn’t get any better as he made his way past the pool to the nearest bar, with Magnus sashaying on his heels, only to find Izzy sunning by the pool.

Izzy slid down her sunglasses and met his gaze. “Nice room?”

Alec didn’t even slow. “I hate you.”

“Have fun!”

Alec slumped into the first open barstool he found and immediately ordered a beer. He downed that, then ordered another and Magnus merely eyed him and walked away, likely in search of cheerier companionship.

After last week…. Alec couldn’t wipe the memories from his brain of the two days he’d spent in that makeshift cell. He’d never forget the faces of the people around him, just like he’d never forget the soldiers he’d tried to save the day his unit had been ambushed.

Others had lost their lives, and for some reason he'd been granted more time. And he was using that time to brood while he sat in the middle of paradise?

His third beer sat in front of him nearly untouched as he thought and Alec sat back, taking stock of his worn-down body. The warm, humid air was already doing wonders for his muscles, as well as supplanting the chill in his bones. Alec cracked his neck, took a deep breath, and realized that he’d been working harder at holding onto his frustration and his sadness than just…letting it go. Taking a vacation from everything.

It had been years since he’d taken a real vacation. Maybe Izzy had been right.

In the hours that passed after that, Alec watched as Magnus flitted around the bar, signing autographs and regaling his newest fans with stories. A few of them showed up at Alec’s side too, seeking verification of Magnus’ outlandish claims. Regardless of how untrue some of them were, Alec confirmed each and every one.

At some point, Magnus bounded back up to their room and brought down the deerstalker hat so people could pose for selfies in it. He steadfastly denied every request for him to wear the hat, biting out cutting, sarcastic remarks to anyone who challenged him, and yet the bar patrons seemed to love him even more for that. Alec just shook his head. Their reactions made no sense, and yet Alec understood them perfectly.

Magnus was charisma personified.

Eventually, he ended up in a conversation with a man who’d visited the Keys once on a vacation and had never returned home. It had been years since Alec had attempted any kind of flirting, and he was rustier than he'd imagined, but the interest on the man's face couldn't be denied.

Hours of drinking had left him wobbly and a bit out of sorts as he maintained a buzz that fell just a hairs-breadth away from drunk, and Alec’s gaze landed on Magnus more than it did the other man. Enough that when Magnus approached, the man glanced wistfully at Alec before saying his goodbyes.

“Did I drive him away?” Magnus said, as he took up the spot next to Alec. “Shame.”

Alec waved over the bartender in lieu of responding to that.

“I’ll take another beer, and….” Alec tipped his head in Magnus’ direction. “He’d like a slice of Key Lime pie.”

Magnus bit back a smirk, but when that bright green dessert was set in front of him, Magnus’ smile couldn’t be contained. “You two were chatting for a while.”

“I’m not interested.”

“I’m sure you could bed him if you put in even a modicum of effort.”

Alec didn’t make eye contact as he sipped at his beer. “Maybe I have a boyfriend back home.”

“I highly doubt that, but if you do, he’s an extraordinarily awful lover.”

“Really? Why do you say that?”

“The permanent furrow between your brows. Your dejected shoulder slump. No man who exists in the valley of bliss is always so…uptight.”

“Maybe you just suck all my bliss away.”

“I assure you…” Magnus turned toward Alec, the fork resting on his lips as they curled into a smile, “any sucking I do has the opposite effect.”

Alec rolled his eyes even as his cheeks heated. This is what Magnus did best, throwing out wild statements to deflect from what he was really thinking. Diversionary tactics of epic proportions that didn’t allow anyone around him to get close.

Alec pushed his drink away and stood. “I’m going to bed. Don’t bring anyone back to the room. Unlike you, I need my sleep.”

“Would you take this back to the room for me, then?” Magnus slid the deerstalker across the bar to Alec. “If I end up in someone else’s bed tonight I don’t want to have to keep track of it.”

Alec stared at the hat.

He wasn’t oblivious to that fact that he wore his emotions on his sleeve. That the vast majority of his emotions ran the severely-limited gamut of surly to pissed made hiding his attraction to Magnus easier, but he was also well-aware that he hadn’t been completely successful.

He was sure Magnus knew how Alec felt about him, and that made Magnus’ disinterest hurt worse.

Yes, there were moments when he wondered if he was wrong—a glance, a touch, a suggestive comment. Those moments were simply too far apart, too well-hidden, and too fleeting for Alec to believe they were real. Then requests like the one Magnus had just made came along and Alec had no doubt his feelings were one-way.

He swiped up the hat without comment and ducked under the thatched roof of the bar.

“Wait.”

Alec inhaled deeply and turned to face Magnus.

Magnus’ brow furrowed as he seemed to be searching for words, then. “Thank you for the pie, Alexander.”

Alec opened his mouth and couldn’t find a reply. When Magnus let Alec’s full given name slip past his lips like that, Alec reconsidered everything.

He nodded and stalked off before he could think twice about that.

****

Magnus thumped his head back against the elevator wall in frustration.

He should’ve gone after Alec immediately instead of waiting an hour, allowing his thoughts to swirl into a chaotic, discombobulated mess. But in that hour he’d removed himself from all distractions, retreating to an empty dock in the marina and to his mind palace.

Alec snapped at him, and baited him into arguments. He lived in a near-perpetual state of annoyance when Magnus was around, but he was always there, always willing to drop anything and everything when Magnus called….

He’d stared at the picture for an hour, reframing every interaction he’d ever had with Alec.

Before last week, he’d never seen Alec truly in pain. But Alec’s reaction to the flight attendant and to Magnus’ statement about where and how he might spend his night…. Alec hadn’t been nervous or annoyed, he was…in pain. And maybe, just maybe, that was because Alec had fallen as deeply for Magnus as Magnus had fallen for him.

Magnus shook his head.

There was no “maybe” about it.

He now knew how Alec felt about him and it had taken years too long for a supposedly master detective to put together.

Had he really said to Alec that he was going to end up in someone else’s bed?

If he ended up in anyone else’s bed, he wanted it to be Alec’s. That they now shared a bed in one hotel room should’ve made that prospect more likely, but he had no doubt that he’d enter their room only to find Alec sprawled across the too-tiny pull-out couch bed instead. Alec had his principles and he never wavered from them.

Magnus extracted his key card from his linen pants and waved it over the lock. Damn Alec’s principles, they were going to end up in that king-sized bed together tonight.

He pushed through the door quietly. Moonlight sliced through the open balcony doors, casting the room in shadows, and Magnus stopped cold.

The sheets on the pull-out bed had been ripped down the middle, the coffee table was on its side, and blood streaked across the floor.

He flipped on the light and rotated around the empty hotel room, his heart beating out of his chest. There, on the king-sized bed, laid the deerstalker hat—a spray of blood staining it and the untouched duvet. Magnus struggled to catch his breath.

Izzy had given him one job, and he’d failed it.

This couldn’t be happening again.

The serial killer who had stalked Magnus, taunting him into playing a game, was dead. He’d watched Scotland Yard’s finest gun him down when he’d refused to drop his weapon. Was this a copy cat? Had someone slipped something into one of Alec’s drinks?

Magnus conjured the memory of Alec sleeping peacefully on the plane despite the nicks on his face and his still-swollen knuckles. Injuries that had been inflicted by someone else, but were Magnus’ fault none-the-less.

And now it was happening again.

Magnus forced himself to move and began scanning the room. Their luggage had been left undisturbed and Alec’s wallet laid on the TV console next to his room key card. His cane was still propped up by the closet. The blood stains had begun to dry and seemed to be contained to the ocean side part of the room.

Magnus’ head snapped up.

There.

Scuff marks marring the pristine white paint of the balcony.

Magnus strode out to the balcony, knelt down and touched his fingertips to the dark streaks. Bits of black plastic stuck fast to his skin—rubber from the soles of running shoes. He stood and peered over the edge, then looked to his left, finding the same scuff marks on Izzy’s balcony.

Magnus’ stomach clenched. Not Isabelle too.

He hit the button on his cell to call Izzy and heard a responding ring emanating from her room. When the call went into voicemail, Magnus didn’t hesitate. He stepped onto the railing and jumped, landing on the glass table and spider-webbing the surface. Her balcony door gaped open, so Magnus slipped inside, his breaths coming harshly.

The room was empty.

Magnus strode past Izzy’s abandoned purse where her cell laid on top, the screen still lit with the notification from Magnus’ call, and stormed through the door into the hallway.

Fear clamored through his veins but decisiveness burned it away. There wouldn’t be forty-eight hours of desperate searching or scrambling to piece together clues this time, because the one object that was missing from he and Alec’s hotel room was Alec’s cell.

Magnus jabbed his finger against his screen and the blue circle indicating the location of Alec’s phone popped up. Magnus took off running.

It didn’t matter how Magnus felt about Alec, or that Alec may feel the same, they could never be together. Magnus welcomed danger into his life, but Alec…. Alec already carried permanent scars, so many more than a kind soul like him should ever have to bear, and Magnus wouldn’t allow him to hurt anymore.

A frustrated, brooding Alec was better than a dead one.

He careened around the corner of Elizabeth Street, deeper into the neighborhoods and away from the ocean. Laughter and music carried on the wind from Duval Street, just blocks away, but dread was overtaking Magnus.

The location of Alec’s cell hadn’t changed, which meant either the device had been abandoned somewhere or, if Alec still had it on him…Alec wasn’t moving.

Magnus ran faster, sucking oxygen into his burning lungs and closing in on that blue dot. Ten houses to go. Seven. Four. Two….

Magnus froze. He couldn’t be seeing who he thought he was on the front porch.

“Biscuit?”

Clary turned toward the road and waved. “Hey, Magnus. When did you take up running? Come on up. Alec and Izzy are inside.”

****

Alec lifted his head when he heard Magnus’ voice coming from the front porch and groaned. The last person he wanted to see right now was the Magnus Bane. Not when his head still throbbed from his tumble to the sidewalk, and his pride stung even more.

But there was no way that Clary—Magnus’ FBI contact from New York and, more recently, Izzy’s sparring partner when she visited London—wasn’t going to allow Magnus inside. Alec sunk deeper into the couch and re-situated the ice pack over his eyes.

The door creaked as it opened, then the hollow tap of footfalls over time-worn floorboards. Alec kept his ice pack locked in place, refusing to meet Magnus’ eyes.

“You remember Simon, right, Magnus?”

“When have you ever known me to forget anything?”

On the couch kitty corner to Alec, Simon whispered to Izzy, “He remembers me!”

Alec rolled his eyes under the ice pack.

“Well,” Magnus announced with a clap of his hands. “I would ask what occurred to turn your holiday rental into an infirmary, but I already know.”

Alec peeked out from under his ice pack, curiosity getting the better of him.

Clary crossed her arms. “Do you?”

“Clary and Simon, you’ve been here for three, maybe four days. A planned vacation, not spur of the moment. Getting away from the city, naturally, but also because….” Magnus’ gaze flitted between Izzy, Clary, and Simon, assessing, then he pointed at Simon, “you are sleeping with Isabelle, although I have to admit that one took a moment because the Sapphic vibes in this cozy bungalow are also quite strong. You’ve been holding out on me, Biscuit.”

The blush on Clary’s cheeks nearly matched her hair.

“Anyway…. A night-time rendezvous at the hotel that veered into an attempted show of masculine prowess when someone—also you, Simon—made two…no, three jumps between Isabelle and Alec’s balconies—”

“Simon is learning to parkour,” Clary cut in.

Simon shrugged. “I’m not very good at it.”

“Indeed,” Magnus responded dryly, “since the final jump ended with you sprawled on Alec’s balcony and tore your leg open. Alec attempted to treat the injury using the sheets off the pull-out bed, as any good battlefield medic would do when unavailed of an adequate first aid kit. Simon called Clary in a panic, Alec reassured him he was fine—sage advice you didn’t listen to Simon, a shame—and Izzy nearly carried you back here, accompanied by her brother so he could utilize the ancient first aid kit Clary had uncovered in the bathroom. I’m assuming there was also some bickering between the Drs. Lightwood on the way here about which physician was more apt at treating Simon’s wounds—the doctor who sees live patients, or dead ones.”

“I had to go through med school just like Alec did,” Izzy pointed out.

“And Alec….” Magnus gracefully twisted a hand in the air as he faced Alec.

Alec couldn’t breathe.

He’d felt the force of Magnus’ piercing, all-knowing gaze before, but never like this.

“Alec face-planted into some bushes,” Clary stated.

“We already solved that case,” Simon piped up. “According to WebMD, he shouldn't have been drinking with the medication he’s taking to loosen up his muscles. You’d think a doctor would know that.”

“Technically,” Izzy said, “Alec’s an amateur sleuth slash ex-soldier slash doctor.”

“So you’re saying that two-thirds of his professional personas were ordering his drinks tonight?”

“Or one hundred percent of his wounded pride,” Izzy replied.

Alec would’ve glared at Izzy, but he couldn’t look away from Magnus.

He often felt like a bug speared to a wall under Magnus’ inspection, but Magnus wasn't studying him for once. He gazed at Alec as if he was seeing Alec for the first time.

Alec just didn't understand…why.

Simon chuckled. “Okay, Magnus. Now I gotta hear how you figured out where we were.”

Magnus maintained eye contact with Alec as he held up his phone, a blue dot blinking on the screen.

Alec sighed. He’d completely forgotten he’d shared his cell location with Magnus after his disappearance last week—

Fuck.

His disappearance.

“You’re magical and practical,” Simon praised Magnus. “Are you single?”

“You’re not,” Izzy protested.

Simon tipped his head in Alec’s direction. “I’m asking for a friend.”

But Alec couldn’t even react to Simon’s characteristic lack of subtlety. He dropped the ice pack to the couch as realization washed over him.

“You thought it had happened again,” Alec rasped out.

Magnus snapped his shoulders back and the…openness he'd seen on Magnus’ face shuttered. “I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“I knew exactly what had happened as soon as I saw the room.” Magnus stalked across the room and knelt down at Alec’s side. “How bad is your headache?”

Alec couldn’t find the breath to answer as Magnus lifted his fingers to Alec’s forehead and began working at the pressure point to ease headaches—a pressure point Alec had taught him. Alec searched his face for any hint of the man he’d just seen, but Magnus had completely closed himself off again.

He gritted his teeth, even though his pain receded under Magnus’ agile fingers. “I’m fine, Magnus. Just—”

“Stop moving,” Magnus bit out. “You’re an even worse patient than it appears Simon was.”

Alec had treated two year olds who could sit still longer than Simon, but that wasn’t the point.

“You were worried about me.” Alec circled his hand around Magnus’ wrist and held him in place. A fine sheen of sweat still clung to Magnus’ brow and in the divot of his collarbone. His hair lay flat against his forehead, against flushed skin. Alec inhaled sharply. “No. You ran all the way here. You weren’t just worried, you were scared.”

Magnus grimaced and yanked his hand away, rushing to his feet. “Of course I thought you’d been taken again! And I wasn’t just scared, I was terrified—because I can’t bear to see you hurt!”

Even Izzy, Simon, and Clary’s footsteps as they retreated to the kitchen couldn’t break the thunderous silence that followed.

Alec swung his legs to the floor. “Why?”

“Why what?” Magnus snapped.

“Why can’t you bear to see me hurt?”

Magnus clamped his lips shut and his jaw clenched.

“You love me, Magnus.” He stood, refusing to back down, especially in the face of Magnus’ silence. “Do we really have to dance around this when both of us know? Here, I’ll even go first. I—” Alec swallowed and met Magnus’ eyes. “I’m in love with you too. Have been for years.”

Magnus cracked his neck and stared Alec down, taking a step closer. “Hmmm. Dilated pupils. Clammy skin. Parted lips as you struggle for breath around a rapidly beating heart. Are you sure you’re not just an opium addict, Alec?”

“Don’t do that.” Alec stifled the overwhelming urge to disappear on his own this time. That was exactly what Magnus wanted, he just didn’t know why. He stepped into Magnus’ personal space and peered down at him. “My name is Alexander, Magnus. Say it.”

Magnus remained silent, but his silence spoke louder than anything he could say.

“Or….” Alec tilted his head and glanced at Magnus’ lips. “Why waste breath on my name when you could just kiss me? Like you’ve wanted to for the last two years.”

Magnus’ Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed roughly. “You seem sure of that.”

“This is a case even I can solve. You love me and I love you—it’s that simple.”

Magnus took a step back then, retreating.

“No, Alec. It’s not that simple at all. I—” Magnus shook his head slowly. “I am not a person one should love. Especially…. Especially not someone like you.”

Alec shrugged. “Too late.”

“My work is…dangerous,” Magnus bit out.

Oh.

So that’s what this was really about.

“You are the most intelligent idiot I know,” Alec insisted. “Our work is dangerous. And I willingly follow you into every case because I don’t want to see you get hurt either.”

Magnus’ brow furrowed. “Then why would we—”

“Then why would we even think of being together?” Alec closed the distance between them and swept Magnus into his arms. He flattened his palms on Magnus’ back and reveled in the widening of Magnus’ irises when their bodies were pressed together. “Because even one minute of this is worth more than a lifetime without each other. It’s elementary, my dear Magnus.”

Alec was used to long, drawn out arguments from Magnus, framing situations in their vast, complicated entirety then whittling each individual piece down until only one possibility remained.

Alec saw those calculations as they skittered through Magnus’ mind and he prepared himself to hear it all and defend against any flaws in Magnus’ argument if necessary, but Magnus peered up at him and simply said, “I can’t argue with that brilliant of a deduction, Alexander.”

So Alec kissed him.

#justpresent #malecsanta17 #*fic17 #*gifts17

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owfemslashexchange · 7 years

Text

Boundaries

From @vrunkas to @hattersarts

She knows there’s something off the minute the helicopter touches down at Watchpoint: Gibraltar. Angela fixes her bulky pack on her hip and glances around.

In the early days of Overwatch someone would have always been here to greet her. But now there is no one.

She leans forward and works her way across the campus. Wind from the helicopter whips through her hair, drags it out of place and across her forehead. She waves to the pilot as she reaches the first building. Her nails are chipped. The one habit she has yet to break; ridiculous to feel nervous flying when she literally uses Valkyrie on a regular basis but the fact remains.

She picks idly at the uneven tip. Rubs the pad of her thumb against it.

She looks around again.

There is no way that she is the first one back. She isn’t even sure reforming Overwatch is the wholly correct thing to be doing and she dallied for an entire three days before heading out. But she is here because Winston asked, because seeing Lena on the news had done her heart good.

Angela turns in a slow circle, adjusts her bag once more and heads for the closest briefing room. She hears the noise before she gets there.

The rumble of voices echoing against the walls.

Angela follows the sounds.

She isn’t sure what to expect when she rounds the corner into the small kitchen.

But it certainly isn’t a ghost.

And that is exactly what she gets.

Ana Amari, laughing, smiling, stirring tea as she leans back on the counter. Ana Amari in the flesh like it is six years ago and she isn’t dead and none of the horrible, terrible things that happened happened.

She looks up as Angela enters the room. Her hair is white now, tucked gracefully over her shoulder in a braid. Her thin, delicate fingers circle the edge of the tea cup.

Angela’s feel dead at her sides. The nerves gone offline. Her fingers twitch.

“Oh,” Ana says, her voice is huskier than Angela remembers. Years and distance have aged her. “Angela.”

That’s the greeting, after all these years.

Oh.

Angela.

And a small smile.

The spoon clinks against the china and Angela is having trouble finding her voice. Her breathing has gone off rhythm. Her pulse spikes.

“I thought we weren’t expecting more company, Winston,” Ana says. She sips her tea. Angela wonders if if it’s still chamomile, judging from the eyepatch, it doesn’t seem to be working if it is.

“Well, have a seat, dear,” Ana says and suddenly Winston’s hands are at Angela’s back, gently guiding her toward a chair. “It has been a while I suppose.”

“You suppose?” Angela asks. Her voice is like a scab, raw and sore. She looks away. Winston touches her shoulder.

“It was a shock for me too,” he says.

It’s more than a just a shock.

Angela thinks of Gabriel. Of what she did to Gabriel, so determined not to have another Ana on Overwatch’s hands. Not to lose another hero.

“I…I thought about writing and when I heard the recall well…it seemed the right time.” She smiles. Her remaining eye crinkles as bright and sharp as Angela remembers. “I wasn’t cut out for retirement anyway.”

The longing Angela had long written off as as dead and buried as the woman in question rolls over in her gut.

Ah, memories.

Ah, Overwatch.

“You…didn’t tell anybody,” Angela asks, disbelieving. “Surely Fareeha must–”

Beside her, Winston stiffens. Ana looks away.

“How did you survive,” Angela asks instead, changing tact. Pleading seeping into the edges of her tone. “Where have you been for all these years?”

Ana makes a gesture, a flip-flop of her hand. “Here and there. Tracking what I can. Overwatch still has work to do. I like to think I have helped some with the leg work.”

“Talon bases,” Winston says, nodding, “numbers, locations, resources. It’s amazing really. Recon that could have taken us months to gather.”

Recon and information.

Forget the daughter she abandoned.

The people who looked up to her.

Angela’s hands curl on the table. Her uneven fingernails press into her palm.

Ana places a teacup in front of her. The same rose-decorated china. The liquid is golden within.

“Drink,” Ana says. “Take it slow. It’s good for the nerves,” Ana says, “for the blood pressure.”

It takes everything in Angela not to throw the cup back in her face.

—

“You aren’t happy to see me, then,” Ana says.

Hours later and Angela’s ride in is ignoring her calls. She is stranded here until…well until someone answers. She won’t ask Winston for use of any of the jets, he has too much to do. Too much planning.

Others are on the way.

If Fareeha is among them, Winston has not said.

Angela turns on her side. She’s found her old bunk. Barely used. She was always too busy here to sleep. Repairs for Genji, tests for the Caduceus staff. Angela sits up. The blanket pools about her waist.

Ana is at the door.

Her eye flicks to Angela’s uncovered shoulders, follows the line of her neck.

“My,” Ana says, quietly, a little out of touch, her fingers brushing against her own neck. “You’ve barely aged a day.”

Angela bites her lips. There was a time she would have given anything to hear Ana sound like that in reference to her. Now, the feeling still sparks, muddled and low in her stomach, and Angela does not know what to do about it.

“Can’t say the same, I’m afraid,” she says. She knows how it sounds but Ana does not flinch.

She tips her head in agreement. “Years in hiding do that to a person. May I come in, I would like to…to talk to you.”

Mercy moves her hands, she scoots to the edge of the bunk. She has left her gear on the bed below her, not expecting or particularly welcoming the company, but Ana’s gesture stops her before she can hop to the floor to move it.

She pulls the chair from under the desk instead.

“Still researching nanobiotics?”

“Still using my technology as a weapon?”

This time Ana does flinch, her shoulders curl inward. An old wound, on this they will never see eye to eye.

Eye.

“What happened,” Angela asks. She touches her own cheek. She has evened out the nails.

“Probably not much different than what you were told. A job went bad. There was someone that I…” Ana shakes her head. She touches the eyepatch, pushes her bangs to hang over it better. Not hidden, but vain, Angela remembers these things.

“I didn’t take the shot and they did.” She swallows.

Angela lowers herself to the floor. The linoleum is cold beneath her feet. She crosses to the desk. Back in time, a lifetime ago, this would have felt like crossing the invisible line. This would have been the point of no return.

Angela was young then.

Angela was so, so in love then.

“May I?” she asks now, holding her hand out, palm up. Her tank top strap slips down her arm, it takes her just a second too long to fix it. Ana’s gaze switches between Angela’s hand and that offending strap.

And then it closes and she half-smiles. “Of course, my dear,” she says.

“What else happened,” Angela asks, for something to say; an ease of this mounting tension. Her fingers touch Ana’s forehead, her cheek. Her skin is warm and soft.

Ana’s eye remains firmly shut.

But her eyebrow raises. “Happened when?”

“When your were…gone.”

“Many of my friends died,” Ana says. Angela’s finger slips under the barrier of the eyepatch. But she doesn’t pull up, she can’t. She can barely breath. “We were all old soldiers, it was bound to happen eventually.”

Angela thinks of Gabriel’s hand raising from the ichor. His flesh being eaten from the bone, being rewritten new and wrong and monstrous.

Her fingers twitch.

Ana smiles. “You don’t have to look,” she says.

“It’s fine. I miss them,” Angela says. “I missed you.”

“I know you did, dear. You have a good heart. A bleeding heart, but a good one.”

Angela tugs the eyepatch up and away before Ana can say anymore. Much like kitchen earlier, she isn’t sure what exactly she imagined she would find under there, some bloody, bare mess.

But it’s nothing of the sort.

The lid was saved, mostly. Dropping over the socket that is dark and looming and clearly empty. Like the end of a scope, like looking down a rifle. The darkness twitches and Angela realizes there is a fake in there, probably glass, but all consuming blackness all the same.

“They couldn’t save it?”

“I didn’t ask. I woke up and it was gone. I have found my way around it. The offered to graft the skin further, but…”

It would have scarred her chin, or her cheek to do that. Angela is not surprised she would have refused.

“The wound was clean?”

“As clean as these things can get. She was a good shot, I wish I had known that before…” Ana falls silent again.

Her hands lift.

One touches Angela’s wrist, one fixes the patch back over her eye. Only once it is in place does she allow the good one to open.

Her fingers, birdlike, cool, never let go of Angela’s wrist.

“So tell me of you,” Ana says. “And your travels.” Her hands fold over Angela’s. Tracing the knuckles.

Angela does not know what to say.

“You were in the Middle East were you not? I heard of an angel her wings of blue and gold. You have perfected the Valkyrie?”

“I suppose.”

The word perfected hits a place Angela has long since forgotten. The electric shock of Ana’s praise down her spine. But she isn’t seventeen anymore and the whole concept of a crush is absolutely unfathomable.

“You suppose,” Ana teases, warm and fond. Her hand squeezes. Her fingers slide between Angela’s. “There was a time when you were younger when you could not stop talking about your achievements. Everyday a new miracle you had performed. And now reluctance to share. You have grown older on me.”

“I am just…not a little kid anymore.”

Ana smiles. Slowly she raises a hand, touches Angela’s chin. Her thumb slides against Angela’s lower lip, so softly it could be an accident. Probably is an accident.

“Oh, my dear,” she says. “You have never really been a little kid. You have always been special. A genius.”

“Stop condescending,” Angela says. Sharper than she means to. She is still mad, enraged.

Ana left them.

For years Ana left them.

“I can fix your eye,” Angela says. “There are procedures for it. To repair it.”

Ana’s smile turns just a little tighter. The edges folding inward. This time when her fingers brush over Angela’s lips, it is harder to think of it as an accident.

“You are very kind,” she says. Releasing Angela’s hands, Angela’s face. She stands, brushes off her coat. Imaginary dust. “But I am comfortable with who I am now. It’s a good reminder.”

“Of how you left us?”

“Yes. Of mistakes that cannot be taken back. More than just…perceived abandonment. There are some things in this life, Angela, that can never, never be changed.”

Gabriel’s arm, the straining, disintegrating tendrils of him.

Screaming.

Angela shudders.

Behind in the hall, Ana doesn’t even look back.

–

That night, for the first time in five years, Angela finds herself once more indulging in a fantasy she had thought dead.

Another boundary shattered.

She moves her fingers in a tight little circle against her clitoris, heaving a sigh. Thinking of Ana.

This Ana.

Now Ana.

The one with white hair and that same biting smile.

And one eye.

Gabriel’s darkness spills out of the other. And it’s sick, it’s horrifying, but the eddying thought of being devoured by that reckoning has Angela’s knees locking.

Her spine arches.

Her chest heaves.

Heat spills around her fingers, floods up from her belly.

And then it is gone.

Over.

And she feels as empty as she had before she started. Hardly sated. Hardly boneless or relaxed. She slips her fingers free and rubs them against each other.

Her nails catch.

Uneven.

She doesn’t know when that could have happened.

–

“What do you mean gone?” Angela asks.

Morning of the next day.

Winston’s big shoulders shift in a shrug. He’s holding a jar of peanut butter in one hand, they’re going to have to address that sooner or later.

“Uhh. I don’t know. Maybe. Less than an hour ago. You were still asleep and I told her who had checked in as on route and she–” Winston interrupts himself to scoop a finger full into his mouth. He hums around it, thinking. Swallows.

“She said she could run more recon, that maybe it would be better if not everyone knew she was back yet.”

“And you let her go?”

Winston rolls his shoulders again. The motion is so oddly human in his simian form. “It’s not like the old days,” he says. “We can’t run things like that anymore. Bureaucratic. It’s something I wanted to talk to you about in fact, Doctor. The old Overwatch was–”

Angela has tuned out.

Her mind skips over what he has said so far.

The people coming in. Coming home.

“Fareeha?” she asks, interrupting him. “Was she one of the ones, coming in, checking in.”

Winston seems to consider. It takes an unbelievable amount of time for his genetically, brilliantly enhanced brain to offer a sort of shy: “No?”

Not that then.

Not running this time.

“Under hour,” she says.

“Yes but–”

“Which direction?”

“North but–”

But Angela is already off and running.

A pit stop to her room is all it takes and she is ready. Slipping on Valkyrie is like stepping into a second skin. One where she is the goodness that everyone perceives in her. One where mistakes like Gabriel Reyes never happened.

She heads north, rushing from the building. She sees Winston, exiting to the helipad as she goes.

She does not offer him a wave.

She isn’t even entirely sure that he sees her.

Ana has almost an hour head start and presumably a destination. Angela doesn’t really have time to waste on pleasantries.

–

It takes two hours but eventually, somehow, Angela catches up. She catches a glimpse of blue on the horizon. A figure, moving across the orange of the landscape. It doesn’t take long after that to close the distance.

“Took you long enough, my dear,” Ana offers by way of greeting as Angela touches down near her some twenty minutes later.

“You knew I would follow?”

“I had a feeling. I didn’t think I would get out of all the answers so easily.”

“What?”

“You’re persistent. And you’re good hearted. You want to know where I am going. I am not running from Fareeha, if that was your fear. She has apparently not checked in yet.”

Angela swallows. She can’t help but smile. “It was my first thought, actually, but Winston told me as much as well. You really never told her?”

Ana’s good eye tightens. Squinting into the light. The two of them begin to walk, drift. It feels aimless. Ana adjusts the rifle on her shoulder.

“I wrote her a letter.”

“When?”

A hand wave, a curling sort of circle. “Not long ago. A month perhaps. I never sent it. It didn’t seem right to.”

It wouldn’t.

A letter is not enough.

Seeing her here and in person is almost not enough.

“She would get the letter,” Ana continues. “And then what? Drop everything? Come for searching for me?”

“Or nothing.”

Ana tips her head. “Or that. It wouldn’t be fair to her, doing it that way. She is…nearly as determined as you. Stubborn some would say but, that, from me, is probably not a fair assessment.”

“Probably not.”

The terrain has turned rocky. Ana scrambles up a few steps, turns and offers Angela a hand. With Valkyrie it would take nothing to keep up, but Angela allows the help anyway. Indulges the feeling of Ana’s hand in her own.

“So where are you going then?”

“Me? I thought at this point it was obvious we were going together.”

The words make Angela blush. Heat across the bridge of her nose, prickling in her cheeks.

Together.

It’s all she had ever wanted when she was younger. To be relied on by Ana. Now though.

Now.

“There is someone I need to fetch,” Ana says. Another rock, large and imposing, Ana pauses to pull herself up it. Her feet scrape against it. This time Angela uses the Valkyrie, she lands lightly at Ana’s side.

“I am not the only one still alive,” Ana says.

Angela thinks of Gabriel.

She closes her eyes.

“Oh?” she asks. Her throat feels tight. Closing up on her.

Ana touches her wrist. “Jack didn’t die in the explosion,” she says.

Jack.

Jack?

Angela’s eyes open. Her breath catches again. Higher in her throat this time. Constricting behind her ribs.

“What?”

Ana shrugs. She smiles. “I don’t exactly know how he survived, but…Jack Morrison is not dead. Of course you know as well as I what a stubborn bastard he can be. There is still work to be done. The least he can do is help us clean up the mess.”

Angela’s fingers brush against Ana’s. Gloved, separated. Ana looks down to where they are touching. “So will you come with me,” she asks. “It is a far trip but…I could use the company.”

The company. Come with me.

The girl Angela was, the hopeful, bright, brilliant doctor has only ever wanted to hear this. The woman Angela is now cannot help the echoes of those feelings.

She still loves this woman.

Her first love.

Maybe her only.

No one else has ever come close.

And now, Ana is asking for her help.

Angela licks her lips. Her hand shifts, fingers interlacing fully with Ana’s this time. “Yes,” she says. “Of course I’ll come with you. I’ve…”

Never wanted anything more.

She doesn’t say it.

Ana’s fingers squeeze her own. She does not pull her hand away. And Angela thinks, maybe, in her own way, Ana already knows.

Ana maybe always has.

#owfemslashexchange #vrunkas #hattersarts #fic #anamercy #ana #mercy #angela ziegler #ana amari #owfemslashexchange 2017 #submission

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lovelyparkers · 4 years

Text

chapter one - healing

(so yeah ur dr. romanoff bc ur nat's sister if u haven't realized! 3.2k+ words phew!)

peter was your patient. he always has been. from the minute he first crawled to your bedroom in the avengers tower after a late night brawl when you were 16, he has been your patient. and you vowed to make sure he was safe and healthy since then. a doctors word: you solemnly promised to care for the sick and wounded, promote good health and alleviate pain and suffering to the best of your ability. peter was your first patient, and you promised to care for him since.

last night he barely stirred in his sleep. he was obviously in pain and uncomfortable, he didn't even snore. you let him be all the way until it was time for you to be out the door and headed to the hospital.

"pete, love, i'm on my way out are you okay?"

"what," he rubbed his eyes and spoke in his deep morning voice, "oh i'm fine babe, go to work. i'm going back to sleep. thank you for waking me though."

you leaned down to give him a sweet kiss, which he obviously was waiting for, and he smiled, watching you walk out of your shared room. once he heard the front door click and lock he went back to sleep.

during your shift you made sure to check your phone frequently in case of emergency. after all, peter was your patient, but you didn't let the phone get in the way of hospital duties. you never would, but peter was also important. you figured peter would probably sleep most of the day, and he did promise you he wouldn't go out today so he could heal.

after doing rounds with your interns, you sent them off, checking up on them frequently. today was different, you had no scheduled surgeries, that is unless and emergency came in that needed you. but hey maybe it wouldn't be too hectic of a day. you could check on peter, check on your patients, and your interns. and of course, argue with your attending, rick.

now, rick was something else. he was the most arrogant surgeon and man in the entire hospital, and of course you were assigned to him. he was young, and flirty and according to several nurses, 'devilishly handsome.' ha, devilish is right. he bothered you, he teased you, made your internship miserable. yet it somehow made you stronger. you were more focused and self disciplined, not because of rick's actions, but because of your ability to not let him push you around. and lastly, he was known for trying to get in everyone's pants. he disgusted you. but he was on top of you on the professional scale, no pun intended. you wouldn't sink to his level. speaking of rick, he sauntered over to you and two of your interns, carly and ray.

"i'll be back, i gotta make a call," you said, referring to peter.

"oh dr. romanoff, i think you wanna hear this," rick bellowed.

"i really don't think i do."

"just wait up, please," he held out his hand.

"what?"

"so rachel and i," he said, gesturing over to rachel, a naïve nurse, "totally hit it off last night, if you know what i mean."

you scoffed, while carly and ray just looked disgusted, "really? that's what was so important? how bout your damn job, rick."

he laughed, that arrogant laugh, "i'm just messing with you sweet heart."

you shook your head, grabbing your phone from your pocket and started over to the on call room telling carly and ray you'd be back.

"jeez what's got her in a bunch?" rick asked.

"um i don't know maybe you?" ray snapped.

"whatever," rick said and followed behind you.

meanwhile in the on call room, you had peter on the phone, making sure your boy was okay.

"yeah, no, it stings a bit but, i'm feeling better."

"are you sure you're not lying," you said, genuinely worried about his well-being.

"yes sweets, i'm okay, i love you."

"i love you too pete, promise me you'll stay in?"

"i promise. so how's work?"

you were cut off by rick entering the on call room, crossing his arms and staring at you.

"um it's good, but hey i gotta go, call you later."

"love you!" peter said as you hung up.

"what," you snapped at rick.

"gosh, you're so tense."

"you make me tense."

"need some help with that?"

"not from you," you scoffed, heading towards the door to get back to carly and ray.

"wait up," rick said grabbing your hand, "look, i've got a patient, really complex case concerning the brain and i think you should take it."

"why not neuro?" you asked confused.

"because neuro is busy, i don't know. just please work with the family. you'll be good for them. no one else here is truly as calm and collected and makes a patient feel more safe than you. i swear, everyone falls in love with you by the time they are seen by you."

you smiled, for once rick had actually given you a genuine compliment, "thanks. so what's the case?"

"i know you like the brain, which is why you should go into neuro, but, it's a tumour. it's bad, they just came in today and i'm hoping you can do surgery within this week. it's urgent but we need to do scans and bloods before we can go through. we have to find out if it's even safe, and what type. they come from out of state, a small practice said he had a tumour."

"of course i'll take it. where is he?"

"peds wing."

"peds?"

"yeah, nine years old and terrified. you'll be the best for him."

you were shocked to say the least. NY Central Hospital didn't get many pediatric tumour cases. many went farther to other specialised hospitals. but you were willing to fight if it meant saving a helpless nine year olds life.

"okay. okay," you repeated yourself.

"thank you y/n. head up there asap."

rick dropped your hand finally and left. you took a moment to compose yourself before going to grab carly and ray.

"get ready kids, we're going to peds."

meanwhile, peter was at home, in bed, watching tv. he was so stiff and in more pain than he thought. but the last thing he wanted to do was worry you when you're already working a stressful job. he laid there in his boxers all morning so far after waking up. he managed to make some toast, though a little burnt. he wasn't hungry. he was in pain. his wound was a mess, constantly having to clean it and limping from room to room. he'd be fine though, he always was, right?

he was glad to talk to you though. when he saw your name appear on his phone, he smiled so big. he knew you'd call, he knew you'd worry. but he let you, a little. it was so good to hear your voice. he so wished you were here to just cuddle with him and make him feel good and make him great toast, but it was okay. you'd be home earlier than normal today. and he listened to you. and vowed to himself and to you that he wouldn't go out and possibly get more hurt.

he thought of you a lot when you weren't around. how he loved you so, so, so much. he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. he felt like he already had. he would sleep and dream of you. he'd think about all the times that day he kissed or hugged you and how he just couldn't wait to do it again when you got home. he was passionate about you. he was proud of you. and again, he loved you so much. that was peter, a lover boy. ever since junior year of high school. still so whipped for you.

he decided to text you a sweet little message. he knew you were busy, but loved to do this so you'd have something to smile about on break. he smiled, grabbing his cracked phone off his nightstand and typed you a message.

'hey sweets. just thought i'd text you and say i love you. i cant wait to see you tonight and i wanna give u a big hug. i love you! oh and i'm gonna make us salads for dinner! or at least try! anyways did i say i love you? well, i love you.'

he put down his phone and tried to run to the kitchen, but in reality looked like a limping zombie, and grabbed some fresh lemonade out of the fridge. he was like a teenage boy, scared of your response, but you were literally living together. you loved him so much and he knew it. he brought his lemonade and his camera to the balcony in your apartment. it was such a beautiful day outside, warm and sunny. peter sat in just a pair of shorts because why not. he took pictures every now and then of helicopters or people on their roofs.

"hiya peter! how are ya?"

peter turned to the left to spot his elderly neighbor, mrs. dawson, on her balcony, about 5 yards away.

"morning mrs. dawson! i'm great, it's a lovely day!"

"sure is! where's the wife?"

"oh y/n? she's at work, and you know we're not married yet."

mrs. dawson just waved her hand at peter, "well you better get on with it, i'm waiting."

"i know, i know...i will."

this made peter think about the first time you met, tony jokingly telling you to go get married already, since you hit it off so well.

"y/n! come meet spider-man!" your sister yelled to you in the living room of the compound.

you jumped up, fully expecting a dorky grown man like the rest of the avengers, yet were shocked when you saw peter, your age.

"hi! i'm y/n romanoff, it's so nice to meet you! i wasn't expecting you to be a kid like me," you laughed, pulling him in for a hug. hugs were always your thing.

"i'm peter, parker peter. i mean, uh, peter parker. it's nice to meet you too. natasha has told me lots about you," he replied, blushing.

"awe, you're sweet," you said grabbing his hand, "lemme shoe you around some!"

"okay kids when's the wedding?" tony asked, causing natasha to laugh and you and peter to blush.

from that moment of junior year of high school, you and peter spent all your time together. he would come to your room at night if he needed to be patched up, or just for a hug, or cuddle. you would have sleepovers all the time it was almost obnoxious to the rest of the avengers. you started dating nine months after you meant. and though, you weren't an avenger. you didn't have powers or super strength, but you were family, so in a way you were an avenger. nat was all you had. no mom, no dad, just an older sister. what you didn't know was in your sophomore year of college, your sister would be gone. down at the bottom of a cliff on some planet called vormir, never to be seen again. that was when you decided to become a doctor.

"carly, ray, this is the peds wing. we have a brain tumour case, nine years old. let's go in and meet him."

you walked into the room where a young boy and his parents sat, worrisome looks plastered on their faces.

"hi, i'm dr. romanoff," you shook the parents hands, "and you must be benjamin?"

the boy nodded his head and shied away from you and your interns. you held out your hand for him to shake, and he did, softly.

"ray? would you?" you asked, gesturing to his chart.

"benjamin wallace, nine years old, from new jersey. pronounced tumour in the brain by a private practice, undiagnosed, but appearing to affect him at large, that's all we got."

"okay, thank you," you said, sitting down on the bed next to benjamin.

"hi buddy, first thing we are gonna do is pretty cool! you're gonna lay on a bed and we will give you headphones to watch a movie while we take pictures of your brain, and i can show you them afterwards if you want," you smiled and the boy nodded.

you looked to the parents, who looked a little calmer now, "we will do an mri and maybe a cat scan. we will find out what's wrong."

you stood up, while the parents agreed that was a good plan, "this is carly and ray, my interns, they will be helping out a lot. carly, wanna order the mri, urgent please?"

"of course," carly smiled and waved to benjamin and walked out to the nurses station.

again, you turned to the parents, "so how do you know he has a tumour? or moreso the doctor you saw?"

"this jersey doctor did an x-ray," the mom explained, "and he said he saw something bad and it was a tumour. he told us to come here or go to a hospital in maryland so we can here. we honestly don't know what to do now, or what to believe, it was all sudden, but he has a lot of symptoms."

you thought for a moment, biting your lip, "interesting...well you and benjamin are in good hands. we are gonna take care of him and find out what's wrong."

"thank you, thank you so much."

"of course mr. wallace. nurses will be in shortly."

you walked out of the room, ray following close behind, "this is weird right?"

"sure is. it's hard to tell a tumour is there on an x-ray, unless there's severe skull deformity, but, we are gonna figure it out."

all of a sudden you were paged to the ER as well as carly. you two rushed there, and found a car crash victim on a gurney.

"what am i seeing," you asked.

the paramedic just said, "crash victim, he's obviously drunk, asked for your carly and saw she's under you."

"dad?"

"what?" you asked turning to carly.

"hey! i knew you'd be here. wanna operate on me carly?" the man asked, drunkenly slurring his words.

"sir, i don't think you need to be operated on," you said.

"dad what happened?"

"well i got in a car crash, fix me up already. i think i'm getting feverish and i could use another drink."

"carly, you cant be here, go back upstairs please, i've got this."

"but it's my dad."

"and you know the rules. go."

carly took a last look at her dad before storming away.

"let's get ortho down here!" you yelled.

you came home later than expected that night, you did however receive peter's lovely text and it made your day a little better, especially having to operate on a pedestrian that carly's intoxicated dad hit, as well as a bike accident victim later in the day. benjamin's scans were delayed due to carly's reaction to her father, you didn't get to read them and would have to wait till the morning due to the scans being rescheduled. but coming home to peter at 7 pm made you feel a little better.

you walked in your apartment dropping your things off at the door and hanging up your white coat. peter was in the living room laying on the couch in nothing but his shorts, as he was all day. he peeked his head up when you walked in however. he got up and limped over to you with outstretched arms.

you tilted your head at him, "pete, what's going on with the leg? you limping?"

"what no," he stood in front of you, arms still up, "hug please, i missed you sweets."

you obliged and hugged him tightly, glad he was still okay and in your arms, but worried about the limp.

"i missed you too. how was your day?"

"oh just sat outside and talked to mrs. dawson and watched lots of tv, made burnt toast and missed you."

you kissed the side of his head, "i can tell."

"so dr. romanoff how was your day? you feel tense."

"i am, and gosh it was a long, stressful day."

"then let's not talk about it," he said pulling back from the hug, "c'mon let's go eat salad in bed, watch some tv, and i'll give you a massage just because we can."

you grinned, "okay, but let me get the salad ready, i'm supposed to be taking care of you my stab victim."

"hey!"

you laughed, "just go."

peter waved you off and limped away, turning on the tv and jumped into bed. you kicked off your shoes and got the premade salads out of the fridge, bringing them to the bedroom.

"mmmm, thank you babe," peter groaned. he leaned up to give you a nice kiss on the lips.

you nodded, placing yours down on the nightstand and going into your wardrobe to get a tank top and sleep shorts then took a quick shower to wash away the day. you got changed and joined peter in bed to eat your salads.

"you look so pretty."

you scoffed, "i'm wearing a white tank top with a ketchup stain on it from last month and my hair is tangled and i'm sore and have bags under my eyes."

"still beautiful. or should i say insanely hot?"

you flicked him on the shoulder, "such a tease."

you two ate your salads in bed while watching tv and it was honestly so relaxing. you didn't rerun through your day and stress yourself out more. you were just with your love. and when you finished eating, peter offered to take the dishes to the kitchen, much to your dismay. but when he got up, he seemed to be limping a lot less. and you would definitely take a look at that wound later. he came back in with a smile on his face.

"sit up sweets, i'll give you a massage."

you did what he said and he crawled into bed just behind you and put his hand on your shoulders gently. he started to rub out all the knots and stress. you were so tense today, from worrying about him, to your new patient, to your surgeries.

"that feels great," you sighed.

"good, you deserve it."

he continued rubbing your shoulders and traced his fingers down your back, leaning in to give you a kiss on the neck. it was unexpected and made you shudder, but eventually you melted into him.

"pete be careful."

he pulled back, "don't worry i am, not gonna leave any noticeable marks."

"pete," you demanded.

"i'm kidding, i love you. go to sleep babe."

"m'kay. love you too, so much."

you leaned into him and flopped over onto your side of the bed. he enveloped himself around you, making you warm and cozy and you instantly dozed off. peter loved you insanely much. he dozed off with a smile on his face, arms around you, after kissing your head.

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locochronic-blog · 6 years

Text

Cue the helicopters.

Federal agents soar high above California’s northern coast like eagles with a bird’s eye view of this multi-billion dollar black market marijuana industry. They see a symmetrically beautiful Yin Yang of rough blue sea and rolling green hills. Rhythmic waves crash like percussions on the shore ‘n rugged, mountainous terrains mimic the ups and downs of hill life for weed growers and trimmers, locals and transplants alike.

The task force chopper in the air slightly descends, losing sight of its moving target as a line of cars disappears under a Redwood forest canopy that is too dense.

Launch the drones.

Agents rely on monitoring live stream footage from their remote controlled drones as the little fed cameras swoop closer to the ground, able to finagle through trees with ease. Able to stalk this criminal brigade mobbin through the woods.

Humboldt, Mendocino and Trinity Counties are collectively known as the Emerald Triangle for ranking highest in Cannabis production throughout the United States for all of time… Don’t quote nothin tho. These counties have been putting in work since before getting high was this cool… and with all the recent advancements of this underground industry, getting high has never felt so sensational.

This that LoCo Chronic, sucka.

Majestic rays of love and light filter through giant, ancient trees as the dusty mountain road begins to narrow on a summer’s eve. From the sun, rays of light travel a hundred million miles in under ten minutes and still must reposition around these mystical Redwood beings.

Beings wider than the SUVs that maneuver amongst them through roads ’n coves.

Fallen beings crafted into big castles.

It’s the green Wild West, baby.

Primitive ferns carpet the forest floor and rattle as the ground rumbles out of nowhere. Ballerinas of Godly mist percolate above vines and mossy rocks, dancing with mountain lions, bobcats, bald eagles and bears. One might imagine Louis Armstrong’s “What A Wonderful World” playing merrily in the background.

Shit ain’t sweet out here tho, so Tupac’s “High Til I Die” gets progressively louder with its deep bass and quick pace. People are really out here mobbin in the middle of nowhere.

“Smokin chronic muthafuckas, causing ruckus”, Tupac’s distinctly sexy voice stabs at the tranquility of surrounding nature. “It’s the last of the drank pull over, can’t hear a damn thing sober. High til I die, loced til they smoke me, the shit don’t stop til my casket drop… I’m high til I die…”

Oversized wheels race by, one set of beefy black rims after the other as five or six off-road capable trucks and SUVs cruise swiftly through the woods. The racket approaches Wyatt and Chaska's ranch rapidly, reverberating sounds of music throughout the hills, causing critters to scatter at once, with chills.

Rabbits and deer steer clear.

For growers and trapstars, summer in Humboldt is when all goes well, or, well, you’re fucked. And the drought ain’t over. Won’t be anytime soon. All this heat and wildfire smoke is a bitch, it’s making some hill workers go crazy.

“I know the feds watchin!” Chaska shouts above the music playing in the car, “Why else they circlin round here on a Sunday? Can't be no dang electric company!”

Chaska is co-owner of the grow-op and acts as both the armed guard and the DJ in the passenger seat. His buzz cut glistens with sweat on this hot August day and he wears a couple gold chains that contradict his country boy demeanor yet reinstate his unpredictable priorities. He also wears his machine gun like a seatbelt.

A gorgeous, soft spoken Alicia Keys look-a-like named Aura drives with one hand, adjusting the rearview mirror with the other to be sure of what she sees.

“We’ve got visitors!” Aura warns.

She feels alert and refreshed, refusing to put the A/C on anything other than high while she is behind the wheel. Curls poppin, dancing with the air that blows in their direction. Her beaded charm bracelets jingle over bumps and potholes as she transports a load of workers to the farm. Her favorite and most unique charm on her wrist was decorated by her son Carmelo after his last day of Kindergarten a couple months ago. He painted a beautiful rendition of her head and hair’s silhouette onto a plain wooden coin and she looks even more like a Goddess through the eyes of her child.

Aura is a mother, a college student and a bartender who hosts karaoke every Thursday night. With a demeanor so sweet, nobody would believe the lifestyle she truly lives… Not that she talks much about herself to strangers anyways.

Aura and Chaska teamed up to drive and guard the last car in the criminal convoy today. The goal of this backup squad is to deter cops and crooks, by any means necessary, from following the rest of the gangsta fleet of guards and workers up to Chaska and his brother Wyatt’s weed farm.

Rose turns around from the middle row of the overly lifted SUV and peaks through the tinted back window. She finds herself at eye level with a couple steadily approaching drones and instantly snaps around to face front, paranoid about having her face on camera. She pulls her long, wavy hair into a sloppy bun and throws on a black hoodie to cover the distinct tattoos painted preciously on her arms.

The drones stream footage up to agents in the helicopter, revealing a line of pimped out trucks and SUVs all painted forest matte green so deep they look black at night. Each whip is equipped with massive all-terrain tires, heavily tinted windows, spotlights ’n grille guards.

Incidentally, all the doors and windows of this brigade are also bulletproof. Some markings decorate the exterior of a couple cars like souvenirs from upset shooters whose bullets never made it to the person riding shotgun.

Ironic.

Drivers, armed guards and over a dozen blindfolded passengers bump up the mountain on the hottest day in years. A sunny Humboldt summer that’s hot with the cops, too.

“Yeeee”, Chaska haws as he pops a magazine into his modified gun and loads the chamber, “I’m sher glad I done chose to git in your vehicle today, Miss Aura. Now open that sunroof for me, if you be so kind”.

Aura is Chaska’s sister-in-law, though she and his brother Wyatt split up a year ago. Wyatt waits at the ranch for the convoy of cars to pull up, caring for Carmelo along with other little kids and making lunch for the guards who stayed with them for the day.

Chaska and Wyatt look similar but act totally different. They are muscular and healthy, half Portuguese half Native American with a natural tan to their skin year round. They could pass as twins despite their different personalities and hairstyles. Wyatt is younger yet wiser and he flaunts his Native roots with long, silky black hair he keeps tied back while working. Chaska is a couple years older and keeps his hair short as if he’s about to deploy with the militia.

Chaska acts so savage and redneck it’s comical, considering his familial upbringing surrounded by countless tribal elders guiding him in the right direction. Soon as him and Wyatt’s folks died Chaska quit attending ceremonies, quit showing respect to food he hunts and quit following advice from his tribe. As much as Wyatt becomes enlightened, Chaska becomes equally as dark and twisted. Instead of going to group gatherings, dances and prayers, a young Chaska would disappear for days at a time to camp in the woods. He can drive every single back road that stretches north, south, east and west in the Emerald Triangle blindfolded. He can survive for months alone in the wilderness.

And he can kill anything that moves without feeling a drop of remorse.

Aura presses a button on the dash and the sunroof slides back like a door to an action packed movie. Chaska takes off his shirt, ties it around his face and throws on a baseball cap leaving only a slither of his eyes as evidence in a potential case. In one fluid, almost rehearsed movement he places a hand on the roof of the car and thrusts himself upwards til he is standing on the passenger seat with his gun toting in the breeze. He switches the safety off and steadies his aim amidst such dusty, rugged curves in the road.

Agents in the air monitor the cameras that lag only a second or two behind real time. They see a masked figure pop up out of nowhere and call through their radios that there is what appears to be an M4 aimed directly at their pricey cop toys. Orders from base are given to hold the drones back a few yards and begin swerving them from left to right on this winding mountain cut through.

Turn those fuckers off.

Distance and swerves are no match for Chaska’s tactical moves as he holds down the trigger and sprays in one sweeping motion. With a shot to the brain of each robot, footage is immediately ceased, leaving nothing but fuzzy gray connections up on the helicopters split screen.

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