#Steve may be in a hospital bed but hell if that stops him from trying to fix what’s hurting his boy

[hitlikehammers]

nowhere without you

rating: t ♥️ cw: post-final battle, hurt/comfort ♥️ tags: established relationship, hurt/comfort, BIG emotions, even BIGGER love, as in: soul-deep love, softness; happy endings always ♥️

for @steddielovemonth day eight: Love is the heartbeat I can feel when I hug him

(also probably the humble love-soaked endlessly-devoted beginnings of the rockstar!husbands in je ne regrette rien)

The weirdest part is how, in the aftermath, Eddie doesn’t speak. Like, at all.

Scratch that: it’s the weirdest and the most concerning part. Eddie makes noise, mostly pained kinda moans that make Steve’s chest clench, ache more the admittedly-decently-deep wounds slowly—but reliably, like, consistently—stitching themselves together, and Steve begs him to get looked at again, because something has to be wrong to cause those kinds of sounds but Eddie doesn’t even shake his head, doesn’t really move at all save that sometimes he trembles, and it’s…

It fucking breaks Steve’s heart.

He’s almost gotten used to stroking Eddie’s hair in silence—so wrong; worthy Eddie that’s just so wrong—and working any tangles out so, much as it’s getting a limp and greasy with days of neglect, at least it’s smooth; but he’s almost resigned to this for the long haul because he’ll weather anything he has to for Eddie and they’ll work through this, whatever this is, they’ll worth through it together and—

“How did you stand you it?”

The sound is more a scratch than anything, glass on sandpaper, and it’s down to Eddie lying where he hasn’t left for the last four, going on five days—as in, not once while Steve’s been awake has he existed without Eddie’s weight situated just so against his chest, sinuous and deliberate in where he presses against, careful as a rule of Steve’s worst injuries and delicate about how he rests against Steve’s body, but not…hesitant.

More, kinda…kinda desperate.

So it’s down to him being pressed so close and sure and unwavering that Steve feels him speak more than anything, matches the motion of his lips against Steve’s gown to words rather than the wind, or something outside his door to the halls of the hospital beyond; it’s down to the tension in the whole of him, the all-too-present shaking that Steve matches the scrape of the question to a hurt that’s…that maybe Steve doesn’t wholly understand just yet, but that really and truly does cut him deeper and closer and more critical at the core of him than the Upside Down ever could have clawed in: Eddie lives in him, nothing else can really…ever hope to be deeper.

“How are you,” Eddie rolls gravel across more words, and Steve’s missed his voice so fucking much, he didn’t realize how much until it’s here again for him to hear and hold but, Jesus fuck, it’s like…it’s like it’s drowning; like Eddie is drowning and then his breath is hitching, and oh, god, that voice is cracking around the edge of a sob, watery and wavering as he damn-near close to begs:

“How did you survive it?”

Steve feels it clench in his ribs, because he thinks he…he thinks he’s putting it together. The strain, the agony in that voice, that voice he loves so fucking much, from this man he loves with everything, but then—the way Eddie presses into him. The force, and the position, and the pattern. The way he’s been quiet, unfailing, but never…never seems distant, seems the opposite: seems focused; intent. The way Dustin had come in and caught him upon the things he’d missed in one of the almost-nonexistent windows where Eddie sleeps, hand lines alongside his sternum and head curled in the most uncomfortable pretzel Steve can imagine, forehead all scrunched and eyes squeezed shut so goddamn hard, looking like any sleep he manages is nothing close to rest by any measure: but Dustin had came in and told him Eddie was the first to him; Eddie ran faster than he’d seen a person run; Eddie’d looked devastated, broken when they’d caught up, and they’d been so afraid, feared the worst, and—

Steve’s starting to fit the pieces together. Maybe.

“No,” Eddie whines, pitchy and fervent and almost ear-splitting, like a wail of sheer gut-wrenching pain that Steve can’t find the reason for in the here and now because it’s just them in a hospital room, they’re okay, and his hand presses heavy, gentle around his wounds still, always gentle and so, so careful and Steve doesn’t know what’s caused the reaction, but then—

Then he can feel his fucking heartbeat for how hard Eddie’s pressing. It’s weird, how it makes him feel…strangely alive, the sensation of it kept and held like that, specifically in Eddie’s hand. And he’s not paying attention to the monitors really, tuned them out as quick as he could but when he listens, okay. Okay, maybe faster than normal, but Steve’s fucking worried, okay, he’s—

“Fuck, no,” Eddie moans and twists his head, no, not just his head, his ear and leans harder into Steve’s chest, his breathing shallow and Steve hates it but he doesn’t know what to do, how to help, what to fix because he’ll fix it if he knows, he’ll climb out of this bed and crawl on the goddamn floors of he has to, but he doesn’t know where to go, what to find, what demon’s left to slay—

“I’m just, I’m grateful you did,” survive, Steve survived…

He survived, like, now?

“But grateful’s such a weak word, it doesn’t,” and Steve takes a breath, and reaches, rests his hand on Eddie’s wrist just to see: his heartbeat’s somuch faster, it’s like a flutter of a flutter felt strong enough to break through skin, it catches in Steve’s heart just to touch—

“You’re so much stronger than I could ever, like,” Eddie’s going on, still breathless and fuck, Steve can see why; “fucking hope to be.”

Shit, but that’s…he wasn’t stronger, fuck, Steve wasn’t stronger than Eddie, Eddie nearly got eaten alive, Steve nearly couldn’t staunch enough of the bleeding, he almost lost—

Eddie keens, horrible and hurting and Steve stills: the monitor. The thundering of his own pulse at the memory.

How did you survive it?

Losing. Almost losing. That’s…that’s what it is.

That’s why Eddie’s pressed against his chest, his his head and his hand have been a fucking frame, goddamn, like, parentheses surrounding Steve’s beating heart, proof of life, Jesus—

“But I need to be,” Eddie’s voice is quiet, but steadier, and his chin dips like a nod to himself; “I need to learn how,” he’s firm with it; “for you.”

Oh, god. Oh…oh Eddie.

“I can’t ever lose you, Steve,” Eddie presses trembling lips to Steve’s chest and then presses close again, so close and oh: he wasn’t just intent where he’s been silent so long.

He was listening.

“Never ever,” he breathes against Steve, hot and damp; almost kinda breathless again, or still: “never ever.”

“Eds,” Steve begins, not even entirely sure where he plans to go, just knows he needs to do something, say something, but Eddie’s turning Steve’s hand in his, where he’d circled Eddie’s wrist; he’s turning it and mirroring the hold, gripping Steve’s wrist in kind.

“I couldn’t find it,” he gasps, and the sound makes the sob clear before Steve feels the wetness soak through to his skin; “I couldn’t feel it at all, you were, it,” he presses his fingers in hard, squeezes so goddamn tight, and Steve can’t…he doesn’t want to imagine what Eddie had to do, what Eddie found and felt, he doesn’t but he can, because he remembers the mirror image so stark, it took him so long because he couldn’t find a pulse either, he’d had to press on Eddie’s heart at the source and even then—

“I couldn’t feel you.”

Oh. Fuck. He—

“Oh, baby,” Steve’s elevated enough at an angle that he can at least kiss Eddie’s hair, barely brush his scalp but it’s enough, for the breath that punches from Eddie against his chest it’s at least something; “that’s…”

“I won’t survive that again, Steve,” Eddie sucks in, unsteady and drenched with tears, with sorrow, but also…also more than anything else, they’re filled up with so much love.

A love big enough to hurt that hard.

“And I can’t…” Eddie gasps, breath catching; “I can’t handle not feeling it,” and his fingers tighten; his hand on Steve’s chest and his cheek across from it press down that extra little bit so Steve knows his own heartbeat in those moments full and deep.

“Have to feel it always,” Eddie whispers like he’s telling himself, and Steve, and Steve’s heart through flesh and bone, some cosmic secret no one else can know: too sacred. Too precious.

“You can feel it any time,” Steve lets his hand fall from Eddie’s to cover the hand Eddie’s got splayed ln his chest, counting time; holds him there almost protectively: “all the time,” and he slips his fingers between Eddie’s and shifts his palm close to the beating, so he can still feel what he needs as he murmurs with his heart literally in Eddie’s hands, with his entire goddamn soul:

“All of me. It’s yours.”

Unshakable fucking fact. He doesn’t even have to will it, or hope for it; his heartbeat knocks that heavier against their hands for those words like it knows.

It knows.

“Don’t leave me,” Eddie bursts out, begging; almost something primal, and Steve can feel the tremoring of his lips where they drag against him; “please. I’ll do anything, I swear it, just don’t—“

“Be you,” Steve braves the whimper that comes from untangling his hand from Eddie so that he can reach for Eddies cheek and cradle him in closer, and oh, fuck, thank god: something in him sighs out and loosens, ever so slightly—finally.

“Everything you are,” Steve presses on, runs his thumb back and forth through Eddie’s drooping curls; “let me love you, past living and dying,” and Eddie’s breath catches, for that, but Steve holds him tighter for it, drowns him as best he’s able in the proof he needs so bad; “don’t leave me,” and Eddie huffs a little for that, like it’s beyond believing, impossible, and Steve smiles to himself for it, tries to lean enough to press the grin to Eddie’s head, hopes he manages as he murmurs there close:

“That’s it, Eddie,” and he lets his fingers spread wider, cradle Eddie all the more: “that’s all I need.”

“That and more baby,” Eddie answers him between the double-beat of his pulse, immediate; “you’re the music and the rhythm,” he nuzzles a little against him, and Steve smiles a little wider for it; “you’re the reason my heart beats,” and Steve finds that heartbeat for himself at Eddie’s jaw, now; a little calmer. Not much. But: something.

It’s a start.

”I don’t have a reason without you,” Eddie exhales, vehement; “I don’t want a reason, without you.”

And Steve should maybe push on it, or be scared by it: but neither seem right, not for this.

Not for them.

Steve just holds Eddie’s pulse under the pressure of his touch, and holds Eddie’s cheek closer still into his chest as he breathes:

“You’re my whole heart, Eds,” and he lets a second pass, and then another, for that heart of Eddie’s to pump evidence unshakable against him, to play the song and rhythm straight into his waiting ear:

“Was never going anywhere without you.”

♥️ ao3 link here

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch

♥️

divider credit here

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #hurt/comfort #established relationship #established steddie #soul-deep love #soft #like: excessive softness #BIG emotions #happy ending #post-final battle with the Upside Down #hurt Steve Harrington #proof-of-life #Eddie’s feeling very fragile and desperate #Steve may be in a hospital bed but hell if that stops him from trying to fix what’s hurting his boy #if that means letting Eddie rest against his chest for all of eternity then that’s what he’s gonna damn well do #steddielovemonth #love is the heartbeat I can feel when I hug him #stranger things

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

i'm outta my head over you Pt. 3

prologue (Pt. 1) | Pt. 2 | AO3 | playlist for this fic

btw, this whole concept is definitely not based on my own steddie playlist and masterpost for why i added each song 👀

today's @steddie-week prompt is: angst

-----

Steve’s dealing with his feelings just fine, thanks.

He’s not pissed at Eddie for the stunt he pulled back in the upside down.

Not at all!

Steve snatched Eddie up in a bridal carry, yelling at Robin and Nancy to help Dustin up to follow them back to the gate, because he’s head over heels for the stupid man bleeding out all down the front of his shirt.

Steve brute forces his way through the Munson’s ceiling one-handed and lands a bit too hard on one knee on the other side because he can’t imagine a life without Eddie Munson now that he’s in it.

Steve keeps his fingers pressed into the mangled wounds on Eddie's side all the way to the hospital to keep him awake and sobbing for Steve to “Let go! Why are you hurting me?” because he’s pretty sure he’s in love.

Or at least, he could be. Someday soon. He’s certain of that.

He loses time after finally letting Eddie go, safe on a gurney that was speeding into the ER.

He was standing there, watching as Eddie was wheeled away through big double doors, then he was on the floor. The collapse onto his ass does not exist in his mind; one second he was standing, and the next, his legs were crumpled under him and his right asscheek hurts. Nancy and Robin are there too, crouched in front of him with twin looks of worry on their faces and he can see Dustin behind them, trying to shove the nurses who are looking at his ankle away in order to get to Steve.

“Dusty,” his voice is a cracking whisper, “Dusty, stay there, I’m fine.”

“Steve, Steve, what happened, are you alright?” he sluggishly turns his head toward Nancy’s voice, but never gets there. His memory goes blank again.

When he comes to, he’s laid out in a bed of his own. The flimsy papery gown already slipping from his shoulders and the thin hospital blanket he was given doing nothing to stave off the cold feeling of IV fluid rushing through his veins.

He blinks the crust away from his eyes and looks around.

He’s in a hospital room, naturally, a couple empty chairs sit opposite him along the wall, there’s a window out to the setting sun (rising sun? How long was he out??), and beside him is another bed, a familiar head of curls atop an unfamiliar small form.

“Eddie?” he tries to say, but no sound comes out. “Eddie!” he tries again, only getting a hoarse whisper this time.

Eddie doesn’t move, but Steve sure as hell does. He needs to get up, needs to get to his friend, is he okay? Why does he look like that? Eddie's nowhere near this small or fragile, he’s loud and nearly as tall as Steve is! He needs to help him, needs to–

“Steven, Steven!” there’s a hand on his arm, stopping him from rolling out of bed fully.

Later, he’ll kick himself for his total lack of response, but at the moment, all he does is freeze.

“Mr. Harrington, please sit back, relax. Please.”

Steve does as the voice asks and lays back down, looking over at the person at the side of his bed.

The older gentleman is familiar somehow, but his still-foggy brain isn’t pulling up the name.

“Good morning Steven, or should I say Good evening?” the man’s eyes crinkle up at the corners with his smile.

“How long was I out? Where is everyone? Is Dustin okay? What about Max? Why does Eddie look so small? He–” Steve’s voice started out okay, an audible whisper, but completely fell off by the end of his questioning and the man cutting him off with a shake of his head and a hand on his shoulder.

“Calm down, Mr. Harrington.”

“Steve.” Steve manages to whisper. Damn his throat is sore.

“Steve. Everyone’s okay, it’s after visiting hours so your ‘party’? I think I heard one of your younger friends say? Have all gone home for the night. Including Mr. Henderson; his mother picked him up with a cast on his leg. Broken ankle and a fractured tibia.

“Ms. Mayfield is just down the hall, with a couple broken bones herself. As for Mr. Munson, he’s stable, heavily bandaged, and will likely be out for a while more. You’ve been out for about 20 hours.”

Steve stared at this man, he must be a doctor, while his brain processed that information. He wanted to relax back into the uncomfortable hospital mattress and pillow but, “Who are you?’

The man’s immediately apologetic. “Oh goodness, I’m so sorry. I should have introduced myself. I’m Dr. Owens from the Hawkins Lab.”

Again, Steve starts to move, shuffling backward as best he can with all his limbs still feeling boneless, but he needs to get up! Get between this man and Eddie.

“Steve, Steve, please relax, I’m here to help you.”

Steve sits back, though reluctantly since he physically can’t do much else. “Forgive me for being suspicious of that.” His voice is getting a bit stronger now from using it around the pain.

“That’s fair,” Dr. Owens chuckles, mostly to himself. “Please, hear me out.”

Steve says nothing, so Owens takes this as his sign to continue.

“You lost a lot more blood than either you or your friends realized. The adrenaline kept you going until you were safe at the hospital–”

“Until Dustin and Eddie were safe in the hospital.” Steve corrects on instinct. He was definitely not there for himself.

Owens smiles. “Of course. Yes, once your friends were safely being taken care of, or taken back to be in Mr. Munson’s case, your adrenaline dropped off rapidly, and you passed out in the ER lobby.

“Ms. Wheeler called me when they took you back too, worried about what the staff would start to think when they saw your injuries, so I came as soon as I could.

“I got here just as your friends were being asked to leave, so I only got bits of what happened from Ms. Wheeler and Ms. Buckley.”

Steve’s gaze had drifted back to Eddie while Dr. Owens talked, looking over the visible bandages wrapped around him, the equally thin blanket tucked around his frame, the bags under his eyes, the handcuffs linked from the bed frame to his wris–

“What the hell is that doing on him..”

“I’m sorry?”

“What in the HELL is that doing on his wrist?” Steve manages to yell, whipping his head around to glare at Owens.

“What are you–oh, I see. The handcuffs…we’re still working on that.”

“Well work faster. Eddie didn’t do anything wrong, he saved this fuckin’ town!”

“I believe you, Steve. Please calm down. We’ll get Mr. Munson’s name cleared.”

Steve focuses on steadying his breaths, watching the rise and fall of Eddie’s own chest.

Owens seems to know what it is he’s doing, as once he’s calmed down, he speaks again. “Steve, can you tell me what happened?”

Shit, he focused too hard on calming himself down. “Not now, sleep.” Steve says, already fading back out. “Morning. Nancy, Dustin.” 

He’s asleep after that.

—

The next day finds him being bombarded (painfully) by Dustin (“OOf! Dusty, careful, I’m all bandaged up, remember?”), and joint upside-down rundown to Dr. Owens (who pales at the mention of Henry/Vecna/001) with Nancy, Robin, and Erica.

A plan is made in the next couple days, Owens, the newly not-dead Hopper, and Nancy heading up the ‘official’ story about what happened to Chrissy, Fred, and Patrick and what to do about Jason Carver and his mob-starting mentality against Eddie.

Lucky for them, Jason was in the hospital too, after the beating he took from Lucas. The assault of a minor really didn’t look good on him, and the hits to the head helped scramble his memories enough that he mostly forgot about Eddie (Plus some extra secret government influence sprinkled in for good measure).

Until everything was sorted, an unconscious Eddie remained in cuffs. Something that irked Steve to no end.

After he was discharged himself, Steve basically lived at the hospital. 

He’d greet the nurses that were kind to Eddie, and snub the few others who weren’t. He thought about getting his mom on the phone just for her to say some choice words to the hospital’s Chief of Medicine, the Head of the Board of Directors, someone about the exactly zero doctors here who really showed any care for his friend, but he didn’t think she would be counted amongst the few people who were.

He haunted the hall between Eddie and Max’s rooms from first thing every morning to just before security is called to escort him out every evening, sharing his time between the two of them about 70/30 (Lucas was in Max’s room constantly, and if Steve hovered for too long Max would start pelting him with tongue depressors), spending a majority of the day at Eddie’s side with a couple others; mostly Dustin, but all the party would visit Eddie as often as their parents would allow; Steve made himself scarce when Eddie’s bandmates would come to visit, not wanting to make them uncomfortable with “King Steve”s presence.

Some days were just he and Eddie and the steady beeping of the heart monitor.

Steve’d sit beside him, listening to music, or reading, or attempting to read aloud that Hobbit book Dustin brought by. He’d make sure Eddie’s wrist under the cuff didn’t get raw and chafed by rubbing lotion into the skin there and over his cracked knuckles (he also wanted to do something about the dreadful cracking that was happening to his lips around the tube in his throat, but worried that’d be taking it a step too far).

And he thought.

He thought a lot.

A lot about how he felt about Eddie, over and over about what he could do after he was safely discharged too, would he even have the guts to tell him his feelings?

Steve knew he could wait, wait until Eddie was much healthier, far more healed. He’d waited this long, what was a little longer?

Steve debated not telling Eddie at all. He heavily debated it, actually. Within a few short hours of really knowing Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington knew his life wouldn’t be the same. He could not imagine any version of his future without Eddie in it now that he was there. Why risk the awkwardness if Eddie didn’t feel the same? Why take the chance?

His few hours away from the hospital would be where he did most of his agonizing over it; barely able to sleep, able to function besides his basic needs. 

Two of their party, their little family, were in the hospital right now and Steve couldn’t stop himself thinking it was his fault they were there. The hospital staff constantly told him that they both were stable and well on the mend in Max’s case, but all he could think of when he wasn’t there was that somehow both of them would crash; an invisible, undetected infection had taken hold way too fast to act, or bone shard had wandered off somewhere it wasn’t supposed to.

His thoughts made it near impossible to sleep, the echoing empty of his house was no help either. He could really only calm down when he was at the hospital and could easily put eyes on both Eddie and Max.

Then, because of the lack of sleep away from the hospital, he’d always end up crashing there in Eddie’s room, twisted into the chair at his bedside with his fingers curled into the sheets next to Eddie’s hip.

It was after one of these chair naps that Steve first met Wayne Munson.

Steve fell asleep later than normal, so he woke up a bit later than he normally would. Somehow, he was skipped over during security’s rounds that night and awoke a good bit after visiting hours were over.

Not wanting to make things worse for himself if he wanted to come back later, he uncurls and reaches for his bag. 

He rubbed the lotion into Eddie’s wrist under the cuff as best he could, over his cracked knuckles, and over the rest of his hands, trying to warm them up a bit and not-so-subtly also checking for bedsores on the backs of his friend’s arms at the same time.

He was just adjusting the pillow under Eddie’s head like he always does before leaving for the day when a voice boomed into the room.

“Who the hell are you?!”

Steve whips around to look at the source of the voice from where he’s hunched over Eddie’s head. 

The older man in the doorway is tall, the top of his bald head only a few inches shy of the doorframe, though that could also be due to the heavy-looking workboots on his feet, poking out from under the legs of a well-worn, grease stained set of coveralls.

“Who are you, and what’re you doin’ with my boy?!”

Steve immediately stands straight, his hands up in surrender. “I’m Steve Harrington, sir,” he starts, putting one hand out for Wayne to shake, “You must be Wayn–”

“A Harrington, huh? Get the hell away from my son, Harrington.” Wayne hisses and steps forward between Steve and Eddie’s bedside in an impressive three strides and immediately worrying over the bandage on Eddie’s cheek.

Steve backs up as requested, both hands back up. “Please, Mr. Munson, I’m his friend, I was only–”

“Don’t lie to me, boy. No Harrington would ever dare to be friends with someone of our kind.” he says over his shoulder. Steve knows that tone, someone’s said that to him before. ‘One guess as to who.’ Steve’s brain supplies, very unhelpfully.

“You ain’t hurting my Eddie if I have anything to say about it, now get the hell out of here before I get you thrown out!”

“Yes sir, of course. I’m sorry..” Steve acquiesces immediately, he’s not about to fight the man on this, especially not with what he’d gone through.

He grabs up his bag and leaves, rushing out to his car before his thoughts finally catch up with him.

‘That’s it. That’s all the time I’ll ever have with him. Wayne Munson won’t let me near him again and I’m already going out of my mind without him.’

Steve’s in his car now, staring blankly out the windshield. He slowly lowers his forehead to the wheel in front of him, onto the backs of his hands.

“…Fuck…”

-----

Eddie listens intently to the first four songs, imagining what about each of them Steve is trying to tell him beyond what is written down, laughs at the inclusion of Runnin’ with the Devil (though he really hopes Steve’s note about Ozzy was just there by happenstance and not because he thinks Ozzy is part of Van Halen).

‘Damn he’s cheesy as hell.’ Eddie thinks fondly.

His eyes glance over to the little blurb for the next song when Out Of Touch starts to fade out.

“...the fuck?” He says, and pauses the tape.

Under Be My Baby - The Ronettes, Steve had written “Teddy, your uncle is fuckin terrifying...but he’s got great taste in music.”

“What in the hell??”

Part 4 here!

wayne can be a lil' scary. as a treat.

#dr. owens is obv gonna help hopper and the gang get eddie cleared #this whole week is gonna be my take on all the classic steddie tropes lmao #i retconned myself with the 'teddy' at the end #it will make sense in the next part but if you know me you'll know where that's going lmao #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #st #st fic #stranger things #the party #wayne munson #the munsons my beloveds #steddieweek2023 #steddie week 2023 #angst #songfic #(kinda) #mixtape #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve harrington makes eddie munson a mixtape #idiots in love #noelle writes

[resident-gay-bitch]

“you’re here…” eddie said, his voice still quite weak and full of rasp from just waking up. he blinked a few times and looked at the three people standing around him, “wh- why are you here?”

“because we’re friends, dingus.” robin snorted, punching him (super dooper lightly) on the arm.

“and we went through hell together.” nancy said with a nod of her head, her grip loosening and tightening on the end of his hospital bed where she was standing.

“and you kept dustin safe, even though i specifically told you not to play hero.” steve said with a scowl, sitting on the edge of eddie’s bed, down by his knees with his arms crossed.

eddie blushed a little.

“and not to mention steve was literally the one who carried you outta that hell!” robin added, and the was immediately scolded by steve, “what?”

“you didn’t have to tell him that!” steve bickered.

“well, he deserves to know!”

“you didn’t have to remind him so soon!”

“you carried me out of there?” eddie asked.

steve turned a pretty shade of red, and before he could answer, robin was talking again, “yeah! he was all like… big man carrying you on his shoulders, covered in blood and looking all stoic.”

“robin!” steve swatted her shoulder.

“it’s true…” robin mused.

“it is. i was there.” nancy shrugged.

eddie looked at steve, trying to picture it. very much trying to picture it. steve carried him out of there? steve literally lifted his dead weight onto his shoulders and carried him out of hell?

well if that wasn’t the most romantic thing eddie’s ever encountered, then romance had to be dead.

“well, i couldn’t just leave you.” steve shrugged, hiding away a bit.

“he didn’t even stop to smell the flowers.” robin kept going, “just… one minute we heard dustin’s screaming and then we saw you dead on the floor, and then…”

“steve was in action.” nancy continued for her, “dropped to his knees, grabbed you, threw you over his shoulder and then started shouting at everyone to kick them into action.”

“and the whole time he was talking to you, trying to keep you alive!” robin said, “like, sure, you may have had your hero moment, eddie- but as dustin said, steve saved the day.”

eddie looked at steve with wide eyes, full of awe. steve didn’t hesitate to save his ass? gosh darn, this man was full of surprises!

okay, yeah, sure, saving someones life who is on the brink of death isn’t that romantic… but think about the circumstances; end of the world happening, eddie litteraly not breathing and bleeding uncontrollably, dustin having a meltdown, their own damn lives to protect, and eddie and steve barely even knew eachother and… and he just saved him. without a second thought.

plus, not many people wanted to save eddie these days.

so eddie was taking this as romance because why the fuck wouldn’t he? he’d take what he could fucking get with this glorious man.

“yeah, well…” steve huffed, folding his arms tighter over his chest with a shrug, “i had other things to worry about. i couldn’t just sit around and cry.”

oh right. max.

“red…” eddie swallowed, “is she okay?”

the room fell silent for a minute.

nancy was the first to speak, over a swallow, “she’s alive.”

eddie let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in.

“he got her though.” she said again, the only one brave enough to speak about it right now, “all her bones are broken… she’s not waking up anytime soon.”

“oh.” is all eddie could say.

“lucas is with her every day.” steve said, as if he was more so trying to convince himself it was okay, rather than eddie, “she’s going to wake up, and everything will be okay.”

eddie nodded.

he wasn’t ready to ask about the fate of the world yet.

“don’t you folks have better things to do today?” eddie asked, forcing a little laugh, “i don’t even know what day it is.”

robin laughed a little with him, “it’s tuesday. and… well, steve an i lost our jobs to a second supernatural occurrence, so…”

“and schools canceled.” nancy offered, “semester won’t start back up for another month, and they’re going to cram all the final exams into the start of summer.”

eddie didn’t want to ask why school wasn’t in session.

“you still have a chance to graduate.” steve said with a smile, and eddie blinked at him, “dustin told us.”

“oh.” eddie swallowed, graduating was the last thing he was thinking about right now, “okay.”

“that’s not important now, anyway.” robin pet his shoulder sweetly, “what is important is that you’re alive and on the mend.”

eddie smiled.

“dustin’s gonna freak.” steve said, “it’s just… eddie this, eddie that- more than usual, man! it’s insufferable. i feel like i know more about you than i know about myself now. he more than worships you.”

eddie turned a little pink at that. one; dustin admired him? so much? like, enough to never fucking shut up about him? and two; steve knows all about eddie? does… does he care? does he like to listen? could they be friends? could they be more?

“where is he? is he okay?”

steve nodded, “yeah, he’s doing the best he can… he’s with max right now, he’s going to be here in about… twenty minuets.”

eddie smiled and settled down into his bed, excited for dustin’s visit, “cool.”

“metal?” steve asked with a scrunched up face.

eddie looked at him and laughed, shook his head, “that’s for totally awesome things, steve. like you biting that bats head off, and me shredding the most epic guitar solo in all the lands.” he grinned, “but i admire you’re effort, so i’m giving you an A plus.”

steve laughed, “thank you. that’s the highest grade i’ve gotten since i was fourteen.”

eddie laughed some more, “i’m glad i could be the one to bestow it upon you, oh white knight.”

“oh, white knight!” steve grinned, “that’s a pretty high honour.”

eddie raised his eyebrows slightly, “yes… it is.”

steve smiled and it was kind of smuggish, “well i thank you for knighting me as such. i’ll wear the badge with pride and serve you well.”

eddie looked at him for a moment and then fucking burst out laughing. he laughed so hard he had tears and strained his stitches. oh, steve. steve was indulging his weird, nerdy humour. no doubt dustin’s doing, but still… oh, eddie thought he might love him.

steve laughed too, and somehow they ended up laughing with their fingers intertwined.

“from king to knight…” eddie said and flicked away a tear, “some would say that’s a downgrade.”

“well, if i’m here to protect you then i call it an upgrade.” steve countered.

eddie’s lips parted at that, his eyes blown a little wide. he felt steve squeeze his hand.

“well…” eddie hummed, fighting off the flutter in his heart, “i’ll have you know, i have no regard for my own personal saftey… ever- you’ve seen me jump off of cafeteria tables at lunch, so protecting me is a pretty heart feat.”

“all the more reason to do it, ed’s.” steve said with a sweet smile and- fuck it, eddie was embracing the heart flutters.

only then did he noticed that they were sitting in this room alone- the door clicking shut from where the girls had snuck away.

“you shouldn’t promise that.” eddie said quietly, “you might regret it.”

“i won’t.” steve shrugged and squeezed eddie’s hand again, “i’ve already made the promise to dustin, and to wayne, and to gareth, most importantly to myself… and now im making it to you.”

“steve…” eddie whispered.

“don’t.” steve said, shuffling a little closer, “i know… i know, eddie.”

eddie swallowed, “you do?”

steve nodded, “let me promise it to you?”

eddie looked at him for a moment, searching his eyes. eyes that he’d been longing to search through for years, and now he finally could.

now they were finally something.

“okay.” eddie said simply, his voice barely a whisper, “okay, but you have to let me promise it too.”

steve shook his head with a smile, “only after you’re up and walking again.”

“physically… deal.” eddie nodded, pressed his free hand onto steve’s heart, “in here? right now.”

steve sighed and sunk a little bit, “okay.” he nodded, “i’ll let you promise that.”

“good.” eddie smiled, “because you didn’t really have a say in the matter.”

steve laughed and ducked his head to lean it on eddie’s shoulder, and eddie pressed his cheek to steve’s hair. they stayed like that for a moment. eddie worked up the courage to drag his fingers up steve’s back and curl them into the soft hair at the back of his neck. steve sighed into it, folding himself into eddie further.

steve lifted his head after a while, now much closer to eddie than he was before, and he smiled with a warm flush in his cheeks that eddie was sure matched his own. steve still held his hand, and it was warm and a little clammy, both of them riddled at nerves with this something.

but both of them happy with it too.

steve blinked and then lowered his eyes to eddie’s lips and… oh, eddie’s heart was beating so hard in his chest right now he thought it might break a rib. but, well, if there was any place for that to happen, it would be right here, so bring on the rapid heart rate!

steve leant in a little.

eddie did too.

they were awfully close, almost touching when dustin slammed open the door with a loud bang, “eddie!”

they quickly pulled away with a laugh and steve quickly jumped into action of grabbing dustin around the waist and tugging him back before he could body slam eddie and open all of his stitches.

once dustin’s original over the top excitement dropped a notch, steve let him go and he sunk into eddie’s arms.

the kid was warm and soft and felt just the same as eddie remembered. they both cried a little. eddie looked up at steve with wet eyes over dustin’s shoulder as they cuddled, half listening to dustin’s excited rambles about how he knew eddie would wake up soon, and they laughed quietly together.

they had something, and that was okay, but it could wait a little longer before it became everything. right now, dustin needed his eddie, and eddie needed his dustin, and steve wanted nothing more than to give them all they needed with a smile.

#jay writes #that’s a promise #steddie #eddie & dustin #steve x eddie #eddie pov #ficlet #it’s a little hurt / comfort #but it’s mostly just fluff #like pure fluff #eddie wakes up post vecna and steddie have a moment #dustin interrupts because OH MY GOD EDDIES AWAKE #and neither of them can find it in their hearts to be bothered by his interruption #dustin’s eddie and eddie’s dustin?! #please that one made my heart swoon #mini fic #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things 4 #fluff #sap #steve being a dork and eddie falling in love #robin obsessing over her super cool bestie and also knowing how steve and eddie made fuck me eyes at eachother the whole time in the UD #she’s rooting for them #nancy knows too #she can just tell and she doesn’t wanna be a part of it #she wants them to be happy but she just also doesn’t give a shot #lol

[lizzie-is-here]

like the dawn

part v- the captain, the winter soldier, and the angel

“you were destined for the glory, the honor and the fame. i was destined for the bullet, to be the gun with no name.” - a.j (via ddaredevil)

summary: the world’s first avengers fall, and only one rises from the rubble. or so they think.

wordcount: 4.9k

warnings: cussing, violence, brainwashing, mild torture (?), dehumanization, hydra sucking ass in the worst way possible, google translate probably being very wrong, steve being a sad little bitch, bucky being a sad little bitch, you being a sad little bitch, me being a very sad little bitch you get the point

a/n: that new trending effect feels like a personal attack 🤡. anyway i finished this the other day and completely forgot about it so it’s a bit late! sorry lol. hope u enjoy <333

taglist: @whelvedfeelingsstuff @sebsgirl71479 @rebloggingmyrecs @babyblublossom @local-mr-frog @thenyxsky @capsiclesdoll

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New York, 2011.

With a gasp, Steve Rogers wakes up in a hospital room.

Something seems off.

The radio isn’t as crackly as it should be. The buildings outside look wrong. And when a nurse walks in, he startles even more.

Her tie is too wide, her hair is down. She… she almost looks like you. Oh, god, where are you?

“Good morning. Or should I say afternoon?” She chuckles.

“Where am I?”

“You’re in a recovery room in New York City,” she says. Steve listens closer to the game. He went to that game.

Narrowing his eyes, he asks again. “Where am I really?”

The “nurse” chuckles nervously. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“The game. It’s from May 1941. I know, ‘cause I was there.” He rises from the bed, now very ready to fight this lady, find you, and sprint from the building. This could be HYDRA, or some sick test by the US military. He doesn’t know where you are, but he’s determined to find you before you bust in and kick ass.

“Now, I’m going to ask you again. Where am I?”

The woman subtly presses a button, trying to stall as the soldiers rush towards the contained room. “Captain Rogers…” she began.

“Who are you?” Steve demands. Soldiers bust through the door, only causing him to panic further. He busts through the back wall with little effort, only to find that, indeed, the room was fake.

It’s a set, contained within another, much more unwelcoming room. The woman shouts as he runs out the doors.

Scrambling into another area, Steve notices more things looking… off. There are walls made of glass, almost every woman is wearing pants, and everyone’s hair looks strange.

There are lights, but he can’t tell where they’re coming from. The building is unnaturally cold, but the familiar hum of AC is gone.

And when he makes it outside, he’s sure he’s dreaming. The cars look so different, and there’s hundreds of them. Instead of hand-painted store signs, there are glowing letters.

He stops in the middle of a busy street. Giant panels of moving pictures surround him, advertising unfamiliar products as words flicker past.

Everything is so bright, so overwhelming.

Sleek, black cars surround him, and out steps a man wearing an eyepatch.

“At ease, soldier,” he yells. “Look, I’m sorry about that little show back there, but we thought it best to break it to you slowly.”

Steve’s stomach drops. “Break what?”

The man pauses, giving an almost sympathetic look.

“You’ve been asleep, Cap. For almost 70 years.”

———————————————————————

Siberia, 1945.

With a scream, you woke up on a medical table.

You were strapped down, IVs sticking out from your arms here and there. You struggled against the restraints, growing more panicked as they refused to budge.

The door to the room swung open. Arnim Zola.

“What the hell is this,” you growled, still fighting.

He only grinned. “Well, Miss, at first you were a bargaining chip. A way to funnel money from the US.” He circled your bed like a vulture, picking you apart with a methodical eye.

“But when we ran some tests, we found that you have a very special genome.” The Doctor tapped an almost-empty IV bag. “And we just had to take advantage of that. Don’t worry, the process will be painful, but it will be over soon.”

You furrowed your brows. “What process?”

Instead of answering you, the doors swung open to reveal half a dozen soldiers in full tac gear. You recognized the emblem on their chest.

HYDRA.

You fought even harder then, never stopping as they removed the IVs and unclipped the restraints. As soon as you were free, you swung at one of them.

The motion of a punch was familiar. The soldier flying back and into the wall across the room was not.

You froze, and they took the advantage of your shock, wrangling you and leading you from the room. The hallways were dark, and the floor seemed to have been recently soaked with a strong disinfectant.

Finally, they opened a set of double doors to a large room. More HYDRA soldiers were swarming the area, plus some higher ranking individuals.

Their heads turned as you were dragged in, but your eyes only fell on the machine in the middle.

It was a small platform, with a large, circular ring around it covered in machinery. There were four places where you suspected they’d lock your hands and feet. Behind it the ring were two rectangular panels, with small needles arrayed across them.

They were going to experiment on you. Bad from the look of the glowing golden vials, it wasn’t your normal medicine.

As they locked you in, you tried to absorb every detail about the room. If you could deduce where you were, maybe you could send for help…

The sound of machinery whirring caused you to look around in alarm, only to wince in pain when the rectangular panels settled on your back, needles pressing into your skin. Dr. Zola walked out in front of you, gesturing to the HYDRA agents in the room.

“Today, we gain another soldier to become, not a fist of HYDRA, but a scythe. Agent (L/N) possesses a genome that, when unlocked with my research and exposed to the serum, will result in enhancements beyond any normal man.”

He turned to you as scientists loaded the glowing vials into the machine. “HYDRA owes the United States a large debt for sending you, Fräuline.”

You sneered. “The US didn’t send me, you Nazi piece of shit. I came here myself, because I was looking for Sergeant James Barnes.” Leaning forward as far as the machine would allow you, you spat at the scientist. “Where the fuck is he?”

Zola only grinned. “You need not worry about the Sergeant, Agent (L/N). You really should be worrying about yourself.”

The needles fired, piercing your skin as you yelled out in pain. Immediately, you could feel a burning feeling rush through your veins, traveling through your body.

Through your watery eyes, you caught a glimpse of your torso. You’d been stripped down to a tank top and shorts, but you could see a glow tracing your veins.

When the vials finally emptied and you had screamed your throat sore, the cuffs were unlocked and you were pulled down from the platform. Your vision blurred as you were led from the room, into a smaller containment cell, and strapped down on a cot.

And then the piercing, burning pain in your shoulder blades began.

———————————————————————

New York, 2012.

In a small shawarma joint, Steve sits down with his new team. The future has been an adjustment, but something in him tells him that he won’t have to go it alone anymore.

As annoying as Howard’s son is, and as strange as the doctor and Norse god can be, they almost remind him of the Howling Commandos. Loud, but caring about each other no matter how irritating. Family, though a bit dysfunctional.

He knows you and Bucky would be proud of him. Proud of making his way through this uncharted territory with new friends.

When he woke up from the ice, he almost had hope you’d survived, maybe as an old woman in a nursing home, bitterly raving to anyone who would listen about your idiotic best friends.

But when he was told you’d gone missing looking for his and Bucky’s bodies, his optimism had been dashed. Of course you wouldn’t give up. It would’ve been unlike you.

Frowning slightly, Steve pulls a carefully folded picture from the pocket of his new uniform. Though worn by time, the image is still clear.

Him, Bucky, and you, all laying across each other on a cot back at Camp Lehigh. Planning raids took a lot of energy, and often you three would just collapse on top of each other in the meeting room instead of returning to your barracks.

He’s complaining about a poster of his USO tours as you and Bucky listen. The latter is grinning as you roll your eyes affectionately, clearly annoyed with his whining.

“Who’s that?” the redhead assassin, Natasha, asks. When Steve shows her the picture, she nods. “Barnes and (L/N), right?”

She leans back in her chair. “For what it counts, I’m sorry. They seem like they were a lot like you.”

When he raises a curious brow, she smirks. “Stubborn.” And she goes back to eating her food, exchanging ASL with the archer as he shovels falafel into his mouth.

‘They were,’ Steve thinks. ‘They really were.’

———————————————————————

Siberia, 1946.

“Get the fuck away from me!” you shouted, fighting against the chains as your wings flapped desperately.

The process of growing them was torturous. Firstly, the wings had to burst from your back in what you could only describe as lava pouring from your spine. Then, the wound had to heal around the new wings.

Since the human body wasn’t designed to support two extra limbs, your entire center of gravity was shifted. Learning to walk was a whole new process, much less learning to fly. For months, you were clumsy and unstable, and even a year later you could barely fly. Not to mention the constant upkeep they required in the form of preening.

You hated the ink-black feathers that were a part of you. You hated how intimidating they were. They looked like a physical embodiment of death.

But that was just the beginning.

Whatever Zola had injected into you had given you enhanced healing and strength. Plus some… new powers.

You didn’t even realize you had them until one day, when fighting against the soldiers dragging you back to your cell, blinding light poured from your hands, blinding the men. The fluorescent lights had crackled above you, flickering on and off as you heaved gasps of air.

Later, they had thrown you into a room with another soldier and ordered you to fight. You won, but the man was bleeding out. He was young, maybe not even 20. You had knelt down, ghosting a hand over the wound on the back of his head.

As you did so, the skin stitched back together, his bruises faded, and his heart rate returned.

In your opinion, it was a sick joke. An angel working for the devil.

You froze as a scientist approached, monitoring your heart rate and breathing as they shoved you into a chair. It was like they were preparing you for something.

You growled at the man. “Get off me before I rip those glasses off your face and shove them up your goddamn-“

“There is no need for such threats, Asset.” Zola.

They’d taken to referring to you as an asset, a soldier, sometimes the “Scythe of HYDRA” or “The Angel of Death”. It was pretentious.

You had forgotten your serial number months ago, much to your despair, but you still remembered so much.

Your name was (Y/N) (L/N), you were an agent for the US, you were born in 1918, and you were still looking for Steven Grant Rogers and James Buchanan Barnes.

You sat in the chair, glancing around as two pieces of machinery lowered. A mouth guard was shoved into your mouth and a drip was pressed into your arm.

Dr. Zola stood before you. “If all goes correctly, you will be the perfect soldier for HYDRA. If not…” He shrugged. “Well, we have a plan for that.”

The machine settled on your forehead and cheek, and before you knew it, blinding pain shot through you. He circled you, shouting unfamiliar words.

“Свет, ворон, восемнадцать…”

You screamed over the words, unable to focus on anything but the dangerous amount of electricity surging through your nerves.

When he was done, the machine relented, pulling away as you shuddered and spat out the mouth guard. Your entire body was trembling, whether from fear, pain, or energy you weren’t sure.

“Солдат?” he asked. You narrowed your eyes.

“What?”

Zola sighed in disappointment, gesturing to a soldier. “It’s not ready. Put her on ice, and bring the other asset in.”

You didn’t have the energy to protest, much less comprehend the oddly familiar man led past you. From the looks of it, he was too drugged up to recognize you either. A flash of silver caught your eye, but your hazy vision slid onto the next thing.

In a flash, you were led into a chamber, your wings tucked inside, and the lid lowered. Lazily looking around, you blinked slowly as a hissing sound filled the tube.

The last thing you remembered was an all-encompassing cold, and then darkness.

———————————————————————

Siberia, 1968.

Over time, Dr. Arnim Zola perfected his brainwashing machine. And every so often, he would pull his two favorite assets from their cryotubes to train them, perfect their enhancements, and reattempt his machine.

It didn’t work until nearly 20 years after the first attempt.

First on the Winter Soldier, and then on the Angel. And that was when the fun could really begin.

You tried to fight it, but eventually, the electricity combined with the carefully designed trigger words managed to carve out every memory.

Your name was… what was it? What did you do for work? The year you were born was completely lost to you, and two names you couldn’t quite remember floated around your head.

In your place was the Asset. The Angel. And she was ruthless.

With two clean slates to work with, HYDRA set out to create its best killers. Learning languages and fighting styles was a cinch when your mind was empty, after all.

HYDRA entered a new age of power. Thanks to its Fist and its Scythe, it had full control of governments, trade deals, even international conflicts. Assassinations, bombings. Anything to push HYDRA’s representatives into power.

And they owed it all to their best soldiers.

While the Winter Soldier was famous for his brutality, the Angel was more renowned for her precision. Once a bow was given to you and you were trained to form shapes with the light that poured from your hands, you were a deadly force, firing arrows of light that pierced through materials and left no evidence behind.

The darkness of your wings was intentional, a way to fly undetected through the night, and your gift for healing meant you were rather sturdy.

The Winter Soldier was a perfect assassin, and the titanium prosthetic combined with super-strength meant that his victims would be spared no pain. There was just one problem.

The two were unstable.

Prone to dissociating, wandering, and violent fits of rage that required HYDRA to enlist more guards every month as replacements.

The Soldier was easy to contain. A sturdy enough cage would hold him. But the Angel’s powers meant possible blinding, searing burns from pure light, and powerful gales from a single flap of your wings.

So in 1968, HYDRA came to the conclusion to introduce the two. Companionship was a need ingrained into human brains, unable to be removed. And considering that the two assets had a connection in the past…

Worst case, they could wipe the two. Best case, their most valuable killers would combine into an even more deadly team.

In a small room, guarded and heavily monitored, the Winter Soldier and the Angel of Death were introduced. You circled each other for a bit, each curiously analyzing the other.

Until you sat down on the floor, patting the spot in front of you. Your wings fanned out behind you, resting on the cold tile in a swathe of black.

The former followed suit, unsure of what to do. Neither had free will very often, so now, left to your own devices, there wasn’t much to do.

“What’s your name?” the Angel asked. English was always the easiest language for you, despite knowing dozens. A bit of the woman hidden underneath peering out.

“The Winter Soldier,” he replied. You shook your head.

“What do you want me to call you?”

Want. What did he want? He thought for a moment. “… Winter.” You nodded. Not like you could judge the odd choice. You didn’t even know if you had a name. “And you?”

Hmm. You didn’t like the names they called you. They all seemed so… technical. More so observations than names.

“… Bird.” Winter frowned.

“Bird?” he asked. You nodded, gesturing to your wings. They fluttered lightly. He reached out. “Can I?”

That shocked you. No one had ever asked before. The scientists and guards were rather rough with your wings, despite their sensitivity.

The limbs seemed to react to the slightest of stimulation, jolting away from unexpected touches.

But he asked. He asked and was willing to back off if you said no. Something in you stirred, like a deep familiarity. The man sitting across from you. The names you couldn’t remember.

Who were you?

The brief flash was gone as soon as his cold metal arm touched your wing. The chill raced up your body, causing you to lightly shudder. He recoiled instantly, only leaning back in when you nodded.

This time with the flesh arm, he ran his hand through the soft feathers, marveling at the feeling. Even if they scraped out the man inside, a bit of his curiosity remained.

You weren’t allowed to interact much longer. Led away from each other and to your separate rooms, the next time that the two interacted was right before going back under the ice.

———————————————————————

New York, 2013.

Steve ducks his head as he passes by a group of children in the Smithsonian. Every so often, he visits his exhibit to reminisce and get in his monthly angst.

The exhibit tells a story of a hero lost to time, emerging victorious and leading Earth’s Mightiest Heroes to victory.

They hardly mention the man wandering past the glass boxes and articles. But that was how this life was. It was his job to be a symbol.

These days, it seemed to be getting harder. Fury was sending him on mission after mission, and Steve was getting fed up. Plane rides seemed to account for most of his days, nursing wounds taking up even more time.

He pauses in between two exhibits. On his right, a display describes his life in the simplest terms, grazing over his childhood. An entire paragraph is dedicated to his death that day on the train.

On his left, another display speaks of how you broke molds, defied expectations, and mysteriously disappeared one day from Camp Lehigh. All you left behind were journals and a locked box that was yet to be opened.

Pausing to make sure no one is around, Steve lets his guard down.

“I turned down a mission today,” he says, fiddling with the dog tags around his neck. “It was to the Grand Canyon. And… knowing how badly you two wanted to go-” Pausing to sniffle a bit, he composes himself.

“It didn’t feel right to go without you. Nothing feels right without you.”

“I know the world expects 72 years to be enough for me to move on, but for me? Two years isn’t nearly enough time to come to terms with it all.”

“But I think…” He sighs, feeling far too tired. “I think I’m at the end of the line here. Don’t know how you did it, (Y/N), even if it was just for a few weeks.”

Neither of your pictures respond.

———————————————————————

Ulan-Ude, Russia, 1976.

“Солдат, я вижу целевую машину [Soldier, I have eyes on the target’s vehicle].” Perched atop a building, you tapped a hand to your comms. The Winter Soldier lurked in an alley across from you, eyeing the approaching car’s headlights as they pierced through the night.

The target stepped out, swaggering into the high-society meeting unaware of the two assassins monitoring his every move. The Soldier adjusted his grip on his knife, grimacing as his metal arm struggled to calibrate in the cold.

The frost coating it had sent chills radiating from his shoulder, only increasing the constant pain. He groaned aloud as the car pulled away, settling in for the waiting game.

“Что-то не так [Is something wrong]?” you asked, ready to swoop down. He shook his head. “Рука [The arm]?” His quiet huff told you you were right.

You tsked, slumping down on the roof. Your wings shivered, the wind buffeting the soft feathers from your exposed spot. Holding out a hand, you focused as a small, glowing, golden orb appeared. The warm glow softened your clenched jaw, even under the overbearing mask restricting your face.

“Ангел? Что делаешь [Angel? What are you doing]?” You closed your fist immediately, suffocating the light.

You frowned. “Мне жаль [I’m sorry].”

Before he could respond, the doors flew open as the target stumbled out, clenching his stomach. The tainted drink had run its course. His chauffeur and bodyguards pulled the car around as you drew back your bow, empty of arrows.

“Стрельба [Firing],” you said, feeling power flow from your fingers as a line of golden light formed, feathering out and sharpening into an arrow.

You took out the driver first, then the two bodyguards in the car. The arrows dissolved as quickly as they were formed, only leaving a burning wound in their place.

Two guards remained as you spread your wings, soaring through the falling snow as the Soldier emerged from his hiding spot.

A blinding flash of light incapacitated one guard, who you shot at point blank range with another arrow. The other took a knife to the gut as a metal hand wrapped around his throat.

You grabbed the politician, dragging him back to the alleyway as he squirmed under your grip. Slamming him into the wall, you aimed another arrow as the Soldier began his interrogation.

Instead of focusing on his words as you should’ve been, you could only see one thing.

Blood, dripping from his side and soaking his tactical gear. His voice called out to you.

“Солдат? Унеси это [Soldier? Take him out].”

With another flash of light, a whoosh of wings, and the revving of a motorcycle, you were gone. And a few miles later, you and the Winter Soldier slipped into a safe house a few miles away.

You scanned the room, checking for hidden cameras or mics. When it was clear, you turned to the other soldier, removing your mask as he did the same.

“You’re bleeding,” you whispered. Winter nodded. “Does it hurt?”

“… Yes. It hurts.”

With a light scoff, you gestured to your back and his arm. “When doesn’t it? Sit, sit,” you insisted, pushing him towards a couch.

He begrudgingly did so, stiff and clearly uncomfortable. You removed your gloves, rinsing your hands in a worn sink. Kneeling next to him, you gave the most reassuring smile you could.

Your nerves were still on high alert from the assignment, and healing someone wasn’t exactly a non-invasive experience. Your powers allowed you to feel the pain in a person’s body, target it, and heal them.

You had fused bones, sewn together frayed nerves, mended muscles, and removed poisons and infections from countless bodies. One wrong move could mean growing a new bone, or stitching together the wrong nerves and paralyzing your patient. That came in handy for a few assignments.

Nonetheless, it was meticulous and dangerous work, and HYDRA had been sure to give you a thorough education in medical sciences. Some part of you felt you already knew the basics, though.

Winter had only let you help a few times, and every time you could feel the unending pain in his left shoulder. He wouldn’t let you touch it, however.

“May I?” He sighed, before nodding. You hovered a hand over the knife wound, taking deep breaths as the muscles and veins were mended by a golden thread. Although you could sense a deep ache radiating from where the prosthetic was attached, you avoided the damaged nerves.

Winter hissed at the sensation.

“I know, I know. Just a little more,” you soothed, watching the skin mend. Your powers left no scarring, no evidence of the injury. Just a bit of a sore spot that would fade in hours. “There. Good as new.”

He held out a hand for you to take as you stood, shaking away a bit of dizziness. Your wings shivered, snow-soaked and practically numb. Sure, you were a super-soldier, but that didn’t mean you were immune to the icy Russian nights.

Winter rose from the couch, wordlessly heading to the fireplace. Within minutes, a small fire roared, heating the small safe house. He turned to you as you removed the top layer of your tactical gear, leaving you in a long-sleeved top. Cutouts in the back allowed your wings a wide range of motion, but also exposed you to the elements.

“Your turn,” he muttered, only waving a bloodied hand at the ground.

You sank onto the dingy carpet, letting the warmth wash over you. Winter rustled around the kitchen before returning with a towel.

“Do you want help?” he asked. He sounded almost hesitant.

You unfolded your wings, casting dark silhouettes around the room. They were imposing, dark, and reached almost ten feet across. They scared people.

But the Winter Soldier only ever looked at them in awe.

So you nodded and allowed him to wipe the ice from your wings, to dry the rain soaking your bones, and to fix the feathers that had fallen out of place. As he worked, you began to relax. As your head drooped for the nth time, he tapped your shoulder.

“Bird?” You didn’t respond, only slumped more. There wasn’t a bed in the safe house, just a dingy couch that pulled out into a bed. You two could share, but that meant putting you to sleep.

After pulling out the couch and carefully maneuvering around your wings, Winter lifted you from the floor and laid you on the worn, makeshift bed. Just as he was about to lay down on the cold floor, your hand shot out, grabbing his. Surprisingly, he didn’t flinch.

You murmured an incoherent mess that ended with, “-stay,” and a strong tug on his metal arm. He stumbled onto the couch, finally giving in and laying down. One of your wings settled on top of him, acting as a blanket.

In the morning, when HYDRA found you both intertwined under your feathers, they resorted to wiping you both again. They couldn’t take risks.

———————————————————————

Washington, d.c., 2014.

Steve sighs as a battered Nick Fury stands up, carefully choosing his words.

In the past minute, Steve’s gotten two very bad pieces of news. For one, SHIELD is compromised. And two, his apartment may be bugged.

The second is more embarrassing than a security risk. He’s been ranting to the wall for the past week, growing more and more fed up with SHIELD. He supposes he has an excuse to hate them now.

“Just… My friends,” Fury says, turning his phone around to reveal the words, “Only you and me.”

Great. So no one else knows about SHIELD’s infestation. Steve glares at him.

“Is that what we are?”

Across the street, opposite his apartment’s window, two figures stand. The Winter Soldier analyzes how Captain America stands, the direction he’s looking.

You have an empty bow drawn, waiting for the signal.

HYDRA‘s attempts to keep the both of you at arm’s reach have failed every time. It’s an endless cycle. They wipe you, you both go on a mission, and memories begin to resurface. Past missions curled up around a fire, the countless wounds of his you've healed. Previously blood -soaked hands gingerly preening your wings.

With a shake of your head, you refocus.

“Готовы, когда вы [Ready when you are],” you say. The Soldier aims his gun, glancing over to watch a glowing arrow materialize at your fingertips. Instead of saying anything about how enthralling it is, he fires.

You do the same seconds later, grabbing the Soldier by the hand and taking off into the sky, landing on a nearby roof and sprinting towards the far end. A crash and shattering of glass behind you warned of the Captain’s swift approach.

But you don’t look back, only prepare to launch off the building. Winter, however, does.

And sees a shield heading straight for your back, right between your wings. He rushes to the side, catching the shield with a glare at the blond superhero. You screech to a halt, eyes widening at the vibranium disc in the titanium hand.

A blow from that would have incapacitated you. And with no way to escape, you would’ve been killed by the owner of that shield. Winter flings it back at the man, grabbing your hand to leap from the building and fly into the night.

Your hands are so shaky you almost drop him a few times mid-air, but instead, you make it back to HYDRA’s nearest base, providing a mission report before rushing off to a small room. Two cots are placed on opposite sides of the room.

You both relax as Winter slides the door shut. No cameras in here. HYDRA didn’t care what its favorite weapons did in between missions, so long as you completed your assignments.

Immediately, you turn towards him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize how close that was-” He cuts you off, grabbing your hand with far less urgency than he had a while earlier.

“You’re safe now. We’re okay. HYDRA said that these are our last missions. We can get out,” he whispers. He isn’t exactly lying. HYDRA had promised that your work was coming to a close.

They swore that they’d give you enough money to travel wherever you wanted, so long as you would answer if they called. The words felt too familiar. Like they’d been used to bargain with you before.

“We can get out, Bird.”

You frown.

“Can we?”

#marvel #marvel x reader #x reader #avengers x reader #avengers #steve rogers #bucky barnes #like the dawn #steve rogers x reader angst #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader angst #bucky barnes x female reader #captain america the winter soldier #the winter soldier x reader #winter soldier #stucky x winged!reader

[erin-bo-berin]

My thoughts :) so, pregnant reader right? Could be set in one of the other dad Steve timelines, if wanted, but! Either way, they have at least one other kid. The first went by smoothly, everything was great! However, second pregnancy? Not as great. Things are more complicated and high risk (whatever the reason may be) so she’s put on bed rest almost all the time (though if she’s stubborn like me she’d be still trying to do things for herself,,) but Steve is in full mother hen mode, constantly worrying. He probably has someone with her whenever he can’t be there (most likely dustin, Robin, or maybe Eddie). Things get even more complicated when reader goes into labor (early) when Steve is a few hours away. Whoever is with her naturally is freaking the hell out and getting her to a hospital asap, Steve’s phone is ringing off the hook, etc. he’d be driving like a mad man to get to the hospital in time. Bonus points for somewhat complicated delivery but everything still turns out okay in the end, because duh. Anyways, these are the thoughts I’ve had floating around in my head for no real reason lately other than I enjoy putting my favorite characters through angst :)

Oh man Steve would be insistent that someone was always around to help you or watch you while he’s at work and you being your stubborn self would actually sneak around doing things. Steve would definitely find out because whoever was there would tattle on you (but you’re about to go stir crazy! How can you stay in bed like this for a few more months?)

But imagine he tries to make it up to you. You might not be able to go many places, but he decides on bringing you take out from your favorite place (Mexican, Chinese, Thai, whatever) and makes you a bed on the couch where he promises to let you pick whatever movies you want to watch and you two have a cozy movie night that soon becomes a weekly thing, whether if you’re watching movies, tv or just enjoying one another’s company. He’ll always snuggle you and caress your bump and rub it absentmindedly.

He’d even tell baby number one to take care of mommy even though little one is barely out of diapers and toddling around. Thank God for so many babysitters though because an active toddler and bed rest is a nightmare of a situation. Little one number one definitely has plenty of aunties and uncles to keep him or her company.

Steve would definitely be beating himself up while panicking when he realizes you’ve gone into labor and he’s not there with you. Even if it was that he was away for something mandatory like a work trip, he’d be blaming himself for not being there. I can imagine Hopper seeing him speed by and he doesn’t even question him or stop him because he knows the only reason he’d be speeding that fast would have to do with you and the baby.

Maybe you’d had to have an emergency c-section and were knocked out for it so you were terrified for yours and the baby’s health and Steve isn’t with you and you’re scared. Steve arrives to find out you’re already in the operating room and he’s panicking even MORE until a nurse comes to get him and shows him healthy baby number 2.

When you wake up, still groggy from the anesthesia, Steve is right by your side and stroking your cheek while holding baby in one arm. He’d be like “good news, sweetheart, all that bed rest didn’t go to waste because our baby is happy and healthy”

And you still being loopy from drugs just stare at his handsome face and say something crazy like “You’re cute. I oughta marry you.”

Steve just cracks up, filled with relief and so much amusement at your drugged state plus he loves you to death.

[kaunis-sielu]

Fire Dogs: 3

When you get home Sam is asleep on the couch and Cooper is waiting at the door.

“Sam,” Steve says and Sam wakes with a start, alert and ready to go, “Go to bed. We got her.” Sam shakes his head then stands and stretches.

“You alright Fawn?”

“I will be, just a bit bruised.” You give him a small smile and he returns it then heads upstairs.

“Glad you’re okay.” He says before he disappears down the hallway.

“Thanks Sam!” You call then Steve’s hand brushes the back of your arm.

“Let’s get a look at your ribs and shoulder.” He suggests you can feel the flicker of an Alpha command but it’s like he’s aware of it so he makes sure he makes it a suggestion.

“You don’t want to shower first?”

“Not really if that’s alright with you. I’d rather make sure you’re okay.”

“Alright, what first?”

“Ribs. Cuz Buck didn’t check.” You sigh softly before taking the edge of your shirt in your hands. You take a deep breath, do your best to hide the wince, then lift the shirt to just under your bra. Steve lets out a low whistle, “Oh Honey.” He breathes and you can’t help but notice that’s the second time he’s called you that. “That’s gotta hurt. I’m gonna put some pressure on a few different places okay? I want you to give me a scale of one to ten, ten being the worst, how bad it hurts.”

“Okay.” He gently feels your ribs, the highest he gets on the pain scale is a six.

“I’m fairly confident none are broken but if the pain escalates you let one of us know immediately okay?”

“I will.”

“Good girl,” he mutters before reaching for the blanket you keep on the couch, “Shoulder now, it’ll probably be easier to take your shirt off and wrap yourself in the blanket.” He turns away and you go to peel yourself out of your shirt but it hurts like hell to try and get it off.

“Steve I can’t.” You grumble finally admitting defeat.

“Can’t?”

“I can’t get my shirt off without hurting myself. I need help.”

“Oh, okay.” He turns around and helps ease you out of your tee shirt, thankfully it’s not terribly painful but it is a little awkward to be standing in front of him in just your bra and shorts. “Blanket?” He offers you your blanket again.

“Thanks.” He nods, when you wince again as you attempt to wrap the blanket around you he frowns slightly. Again Steve takes the blanket from your hands and wraps it around you. He’s so close to you that you can smell the smoke on him stronger than his scent.

“Ready?”

“I guess. Same pain scale?” He nods then gently starts to touch around your already bruising shoulder. He gets a seven and a half on this one, right where the branch had hit you.

“How does the head feel?”

“I mean I have a headache, and I’m pretty sure I was unconscious for a while but for having a branch fall on me I’m doing alright.”

“I would really like it if you went to the ER.” He says gently, “You want help getting your shirt back on?”

“No, I’m just going to put on my pajamas and ice my shoulder.”

“You sure you don’t want to go to the hospital?”

“Do you honestly think that I need to? Bucky said I didn’t have a concussion. He said I was fine.”

“You went unconscious though. Something you failed to mention.” He frowns down at you, you smile sweetly up at him.

“I’m pretty sure I did.”

“Fawn.” Steve groans dropping his head back in frustration. You bite your lip, you really just, you don’t want to go. His eyes meet yours again and after he searches your face for a second his face softens. “What is it that you’re not telling me?”

“Nothing, it’s nothing.” You lie as you turn to go upstairs but a sudden gentle tug on the back of your blanket pulls you to a stop.

“Honey, I can practically taste the anxiety on you.” He says softly, “are you scared?” You shake your head no, “is it the cost?” Again a no, “Please, let me help?” He soothes, his scent rolls over you and you can feel yourself relaxing.

“I’m,” you drop your head, “it’s my ex. He runs the ER and even if he isn’t there he usually shows up while I’m there.” You admit softly.

“You don’t have to go alone, I’ll stay with you.”

“They’ll ask you to leave. My friend Scott tried that when I broke my wrist.”

“The only one who will get me to leave is you. I promise.”

“Fine,” you relent, “Can you help me get my shirt back on?”

Steve helps you get your shirt back on then you convince him to take a shower. You can wait, you ice your shoulder while he’s in the shower. He comes down in a pair of jeans, a blue plaid shirt that’s rolled up to the elbows and a pair of black boots. Good lord he’s handsome, you grab your purse and Cooper’s leash then follow Steve out the door. Cooper hops in the back and you buckle him in then go to the front seat. When you pull up to the hospital Cooper shoves his head under your arm and you absentmindedly pet him.

“You ready Honey?” You like this new nickname he’s got for you. “Let me know if I can help soothe you okay?” You nod then take a deep breath and pop open your door. You take Cooper out of the back of then meet Steve at the back of the car. When you pause again Steve offers you his hand, when you look up at him he’s got that soft smile on his face again. You take the hand that he offers then head inside, his thumb brushes against your pulse point a couple times and you slow your breathing. It’s not until you’re in a room that you actually start to relax a little bit, but it’s not enough and Coop notices placing his head in your lap.

There’s a tap on your door and before you can say anything the door swings open,

“Well, well, well what did we do this time Grey?” His scent rolls into the room with him, it’s stale and causes your nose to wrinkle.

“She prefers Fawn.” Steve growls and Grant actually looks surprised.

“Who are you?” He asks puffing up his chest at the sight of a new Alpha.

“Captain Steve Rogers.”

“Oh, a firefighter. Thought you liked your men with a bit more brains then a firefighter. I’ll need you to step out Mr. Rogers.”

“No.” Steve says from where he’s leaning coolly against the wall. Cooper licks your fingers.

“Then at least be useful and get that dog out of my way.” Grant sneers taking a step toward you and Steve pops off of the wall,

“Fawn, do you want him to be your doctor?”

“No.”

“You heard the lady. She wants a different doctor. Get out.”

“You might think that you’re some big bad firefighter dude but you don’t get to boss me around.” Grant says standing to his full height, “I’m starting to think that my patient isn’t safe with you around.” Grant sneers and Cooper growls lowly, placing himself between you and Grant, something Steve absolutely notices.

“She’s not the one in danger from me.” You can feel the rage building between the two Alphas and Grant glares at him. “Unless Fawn says otherwise, both the dog and I are staying where we’re at.”

“You don’t get to threaten me in my own hospital.” Grant huffs, “Get. Out.” He punctuates each word with the jab of his finger into Steve’s chest. Steve sighs and when Grant goes to poke him again Steve catches his arm and twists it behind Grant’s back. “This is assault! Security!” He yells and Steve growls lowly.

“Technically you laid hands on me first so this is self-defense. Now, I’m going to politely ask you to get the fuck out and get Fawn another doctor. I’m also going to tell you that if you decide to try and make trouble for me or Fawn one of my best friends is Virginia Potts, New York Attorney General. She really likes knocking bullying Alphas off their pedestal, and the last doctor that went up against her lost his practice license and I think is still serving jail time.” You stare at Steve in amazement, he’s calm, but you can feel the Alpha rolling off of him and still has a firm grasp on Grant. He mutters something quietly to Grant that you can’t hear then Grant looks almost dazed, like Steve had just Alpha commanded him and he didn’t know what to do. Two security guards show up and thankfully one is someone who will actually believe you over Grant.

“Phil!” You breathe in relief.

“Fawn, what is going on here?”

“This is Steve, he’s one of the firefighters staying with me. Grant wouldn’t leave and let me have a different doctor even though I asked for a new one then he poked Steve in the chest and threatened him.”

“I did not! Get this fucker off me!” Grant snaps glaring over at you. “You’re a lying bitch of an Omega Grey.”

“I’m sorry, did I not make it clear you weren’t to call her that anymore?” Steve growls putting pressure on the arm he has behind Grant’s back. “Apologize.”

“Sorry.” Grant spits out and he almost looks surprised that he’s done it. It’s great to see him being bossed around like he used to do to you.

“Continue Fawn.” Phil says calmly, as he eyes the two Alphas in front of him.

“I asked Steve to stay, no matter what, and Grant told him to leave that’s when he poked Steve and threatened him after Steve defended himself.”

“Sir, please let go of Dr. Ward.” Phil says sounding bored, his partner a young woman, seems to be enjoying the drama. Steve let’s go of Grant who turns on Steve and takes a swing at him. One that Steve must have anticipated because he just takes a half step back and the hit goes wide. Both Phil and his partner grab Grant before he can try again and usher him out of your room. “I’ll send in May.” Phil says as they practically drag Grant away.

“Thank you.” You say quietly then Steve gently closes the door.

“I see now why you were so hesitant about coming.” Steve says before sitting down next to you in the second chair, he offers you a hand again and you take it, Coop’s head is back in your lap. “He was abusive wasn’t he?” No one has ever just straight up asked you that.

“Not physically,” you admit, “he’s the one that started the whole Grey nickname and all his friends just kinda ran with it.”

“Abuse isn’t just physical Honey. He Alpha commanded you a lot didn’t he?” You nod slowly before saying,

“I know abuse isn’t always physical. It’s just harder to admit when it’s not physical. People would say I was so lucky to be dating him, this hot, young, Alpha doctor. But no one could see what he was doing to my spirit. Nothing I ever did was good enough. My career was a hobby, I should be a nurse so we could work together. I spent too much time on my books. I spent too much time training and doing therapy with Cooper. Anything that took my attention away from him. He wanted a good little Omega who stayed home and served him. He wanted to mark me but I just couldn’t let him.”

“How did you get away?”

“Cooper actually.” You give the dog a couple of chin scratches, “He told me I had to choose, my dog or him and the choice was easy. People said I was stupid but I was just glad to be rid of him, as much as I could be in a town this size.”

“I’m proud of you.” You look at him in surprise, most people tell you that they’re sorry, “you got out and you’ve stayed out.” There’s a soft tap on the doorframe and after a moment Dr. May walks into your room.

“Hey, so what brings you in today?”

“Branch fell on me and knocked me unconscious. I got the okay from Bucky to go home but Steve wants to make sure I’m good.”

“I don’t think any of her ribs are broken but I’d like to be sure before anything happens. Our EMT cleared her for concussion but the fact that she went unconscious is concerning.”

“Ah, so that’s who Bucky is.” You nod, “I’m seeing some shoulder favoritism too?”

“Yea, it hit my shoulder first.”

“Okay, let’s get your shirt off so I can take a look, if you want Captain Rogers to leave I can help you.”

“He’s already seen it.” You tell her and he helps ease you out of your shirt again.

Melinda ends up ordering some x-rays for you. The only time Steve leaves your side is when she walks you to the x-ray room. She takes the time to make sure you feel safe.

“Honestly, he makes me feel so safe, I wouldn’t have come without him. Did Phil tell you what happened?”

“Yea,” she tells you with a smirk, “I wish he would’ve decked him.” You chuckle softly, “he’s crazy about you.”

“Who?” Oh god please don’t say Grant.

“Captain Rogers.”

“He’s also an Alpha, you know how I feel about Alphas.”

Tag list:

@memyselfandmaddox @thefanficfaerie @patzammit @dsakita @dramadreamer14 @killcomet @thesassmisstress @andahugaroundtheneck @loving-life-my-way @thefridgeismybestie @dumblani @im-just-another-monster @mywinterwolf @giggleberts @biskwitmamaw @geeksareunique @paintballkid711 @lumar014 @also-fangirlinsweden @connie326 @inkedaztec @eralen @valsworldofcreativity @strangersstranger @blackwidownat2814

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader au #firefighter!steve rogers x reader #firefighter!au #firefighter!steve rogers #alpha!steve rogers x reader #alpha!steve rogers x omega reader #alpha!steve x omega!reader #abo au #fire dogs story

[creativeashproductions]

When the Pain Ends // Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Breaking up with your boyfriend ends with your broken hand, a broken heart and a trip to Canada. Getting out of Oklahoma for comfort of your younger brother Owen brings you into contact with a sweet Canadian.

Warnings: Swearing, hospital, cheating boyfriend, angst and bit of fluff

Words: 3.1k

Requested: No.

A/N: Tidbit of info is that I am a university student. I had last week off and I’m six minutes into my History Zoom Lecture. Here’s a little fic.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX PLEASE!

Masterlist

The scowl glued on your face as you waited in the ER for the results from the x-ray you had gotten back from minutes ago. A bag of ice on the swollen knuckles of your right hand still splattered in drops of blood. The same blood as the small drops on your shirt as well. If that didn’t put a scowl on your face, it was the next issue.

The reason for your visit to the ER was in bed next over complaining as a nurse checked his face. His eyes meeting yours in a blend of guilt, regret and fear almost. You couldn’t meet his eyes. You didn’t want to meet his eyes.

Let’s backtrack a little for a short history.

The summer after graduation, you had met a guy on the beach playing volleyball in need of another player. You joined, and then you fell for the guy just as he did for you. For the last three years, you were now twenty-one years old. Parker had been a really good guy. Until yesterday.

“Babe!” Parker sounded congested with the bandages held up his nose. He had been fighting the nurse to come to your side.

“Don’t call me that!” You hissed glaring at the tall boy with the auburn hair colour that had once been your favourite colour.

“C’mon it was a mistake-Ow!” Parker whined at the nurse applied more pressure as she cast a sympathetic glance at you. A small smile of thanks passed to the nurse who had maybe pressed a little no hard on Parker’s nose.

Your eyes rolled at the drama that was Parker when it came to injuries that had been his entire fault, to be frank. Your fist meeting his face? His fault for cheating. What did he expect? A congratulations? Screw that.

“Say anything else I swear I’ll hit the other ball.” You glared at the boy sending him to a fit, shaking fear of stupidity.

The beach was filled up with teens and adults with children on the nice weekend day out of the loud city. Originally you hadn’t been able to join Parker with your mutual friends, but something else had spurred you there. Instead of having the weekly movie night via FaceTime with your younger brother, you had other plans. A particular video sent by Parker’s best friend and his cousin too had brought you here. Livvy had grown close in the three-year relationship you had with her cousin.

Your fury filled gaze flickered around the beach and the grass in the large opening area of the waterfront. Finally, your eyes found Parker sitting with Livvy on the blanket on the grass with Steve. Livvy was the first to see with marching through the people spreading like a curtain from the angry girl.

“Hey, Parker!” You shouted at your boyfriend in a conversation with your other two friends. Parker’s smile grew just before it falters at your expression.

“Hey, Babe,” Parker spoke, climbing to his full five-foot-ten stature. Livvy’s smile pulled up in an amused smirk while Steve looked more confused.

“How was your weekend at your sick Granny’s house?” You came to a stop a foot away from him. Arms crossed just under your chest his thick eyebrows furrowed together.

“Uh…it was okay. She’s feeling better.” Parker nodded to himself tilting his head to the side, “It was-“

“I hope she better. Her treatment must have been incredible.” You replied, unfurling your arms to grab the phone from your back pocket.

Parker grew more confused, “What?”

“The doctor sure knew what he was doing. The prescription of ‘dicked down’ cured her illness and old age.” The whistle you made after your statement sounded, but you grew more satisfied with the circle of people behind you.

“Oh.” Steve choked, raising one fist to press against his mouth. By now Livvy had started recording on her phone.

Livvy and Parker may be cousins, but she loathed cheaters when it was the cause of her parents’ divorce. Parker’s lips parted as he paled. The click of the glass screen brought up a video of Parker and a brunette in a hot tub.

“Ba-“

“Fucking look at your actions.” You hissed stepping even closer, “Was it worth it? Jeopardizing a relationship with someone you share years of memories with? Years of love and trust? All for thirty seconds of fun? We both know you tend to…get too excited.”

“Oh shit,” Steve spoke, shifting his gaze between you and Parker like he was a bobblehead of Einstein. The very bobblehead that you had laughed giving Steve with his obsession over the legendary scientist.

“It just happened. I still love you. I just needed a- “Parker stumbled back bringing his hands to his face, “OW! You broke my nose!”

“Ouch.” You hissed shaking your aching hand coated in some blood that splattered your shirt from shaking the hand.

“What the hell! You bit…holy fuck!” Parker screamed as your foot came up between his spread legs, nailing his left nut. He collapsed onto the grass, struggling to hold his bleeding broke nose and his nuts.

“That’s what you get asshole.” You shouted, turning to Livvy, “Can you take me to the hospital?”

“Parker drove, I’ll drive you both there. Steve can keep you two from fighting.” Livvy spoke, ending the video to shove everything in the oversized beach bag.

Now it was hours later as per usual in most hospitals elongating the time you were forced to spend with your now ex-boyfriend. Livvy and Steve had gone home a while back. Parker continued trying to fix the unrepairable damage he had done.

“Y-“

“That’s it!” You exclaimed jumping down from the bed to storm over to Parker. You made a few steps before arms encircled your waist.

“Okay, Slugger.” The gritty voice of your father spoke tugging you as far away from your ex-boyfriend as possible, “As much I want to kill him, I think you broke his pretty-boy face enough.”

The anger drained from your body as you slumped against your dad anguish set in with a tsunami of hurt. Time melted as you broke in your father’s arm; missing the doctor giving information. Your hand was fitted with a cast, and next thing you were aware of it was in the car.

“You bruised hits nuts. Broke his nose.” Dad nonchalantly spoke, turning the steering wheel as he exited the hospital parking lot. He didn’t bother making small talk as he let you be quiet on the drive home.

You didn’t know what hurt more, the heartache or your broken hand stabilized in the brace. The clearing of a throat had your attention is drawn to the house you had grown up no doubt holding your upset mother.

“She’s not that mad.” Dad quietly spoke, handing your phone that had died during the time in the ER. You shot him a look at the inaccuracy of his statement because you both know she was angry.

“Her daughter just spent hours in a hospital with a dead phone. We both know she probably thought I was dead in a ditch.” You deadpanned as you both walked up to the door of the home in Norman, Oklahoma.

The door opened before you could reach for it, and a flurry of blonde hair attacked you in a hug. Your mother hugged then leaned away to scan your features. Catching the dried tear stains paired with the red-rimmed eyes.

“Sweetheart.” Dinah spoke, raising her hands to wipe the tears from your face only causing more to fall, “What’s wrong?”

“Parker cheated on me.” You mumbled melting into her arms in another round of tears, breaking your parents’ hearts.

Meanwhile in Vancouver, Canada

Owen loved his job and the people he had met, but he missed the weekly movie nights with his older sister. The Joyner siblings had gotten down pat a system of sync to have the same movie playing at the same time on FaceTime. Imagine his surprise when he got a text apologizing.

Virtual movie night postponed. It put him in a slump that greatly concerned his roommate at the decrease of excitement. Even the next day, he was sad like a kicked puppy.

“Bro? You good?” Charlie asked from his place in the kitchen, scanning his emails on his computer. Owen barely made his eyes, “Wasn’t movie night with your sister yesterday?”

Owen nodded, “Yeah she-“

As Owen had gone to explain his phone had dinged with a concerning message from his mother.

Mom: Have you heard from Y/N? She hasn’t come home.

Owen swiped out of the conversation to the most used one with you shared with him to send a mass of messages. All not even coming up as read by you. It was his stipulation that you had it one for his safe of mind.

“C’mon you little shit,” Owen grumbled, pressing your contact to call. It didn’t even ring, “Dead cell.”

Charlie’s full attention shifted to the younger guy sitting on their couch in the apartment they used during filming. As Owen started pacing, Charlie was over quick as a bunny to offer comfort to him. The boys had grown so close, with Jeremy too, that they knew how to help the other.

“Owen, you need to tell me what’s going on.” Charlie soothed the blonde with his eyes pleading with the teenager.

“My parents haven’t talked to my sister. She didn’t go home.” Owen admitted scratching at his chest when his chest tightened. The other immediately finding his pulse on his neck to ensure he still had a pulse.

“Oh shit.” Charlie retorted, tapping his foot on the hardwood floor trying to find the right words to help his friend.

For the next hour, the boys kept in contact with Owen’s family and checking your social media in shifts as they filmed. It was a slow day when Owen’s phone finally rang with his mother’s contact once more.

“Mom, did you find her?” Owen asked, picking at the skin on his lips pacing as he had all day. The level of anxiety had been perfect for the scene he had filmed as Alex.

“Yeah. Look, Owen, she needs to get out of Oklahoma. Do you have room for her?” Dinah asked her son periodically glancing in the living room at the lifeless young woman.

“Yeah. We have an extra room.” Owen supplied squeezing the phone in his grip, “How is she? What happened?”

“I’m letting her settle before I ask any questions, but her flight is in a bit. It was either you take her in, or we pay for a hotel room. Oh! I got this lego-“

“I have to get back to filming. I’ll call you tonight.” Owen told his mother as his thumb hit the record circle on his phone. Kenny waving him over to film a scene with Booboo that would be the last before heading home.

The over the counter pain pill went down with a swig of water in the airport waiting for Owen and his roommate. Owen had messaged you that he would pick you up on the way from the set in perfect timing.

“Y/N!” Owen cheered catching sight of your form hunched forward on the bench you had miraculously found empty. Your blank eyes seeing the blue of your younger brother.

Owen’s eyes widened in shock, “What the hell happened to your hand?”

Noncommittal, the girl walked by her brother with her luggage in the mission to get to the car. All you wanted was to burst into years under your blankets until the world turned again, when birds sang, and the word wasn’t painted in dull colours.

Just as it had during the ride from the hospital to the house, it was dead silent in the car with the barest sound of music. Owen and Charlie had been having a conversation with expressions with the tension in the backseat stifling.

“This is our place.” Charlie spoke, opening the apartment door with a flourish for the girl and her luggage. Your eyes scanned the modest apartment with minimal mess compared to the tornado devastation of Owen’s Oklahoma room.

“Okay.” You replied, watching as Owen rolled the luggage to the room you would use for the few weeks you would be here.

Once showered, dressed and settled, you retreated to the couch to watch a film with the two boys. Your mind fluttered between Beca’s blow out with her father and Jesse to the city of Norman. As if thinking of Parker manifested something your phone buzzed with notifications.

@/livvyjo: Go, girl! [video]

@/malia134: Parker goes down like the bitch he is!!!

@/notsteverogers: I got a front-row seat to the fight.

Those three comments on Livvy’s video had more support than hate plus the video itself was hilarious. It caught the entire confrontation from greeting the cheater to being pulled away to spend the ten minutes in the same car. The car you had hooked up in the backseat of in the years you dated him.

 “-The prescription of ‘dicked down’ cured her illness and old age.” The pure anger on your expression amused you.

“What are you watching?” Owen inquired from the couch he watched the movie from. It made up for the lack of a film last night.

“A girl punching her bag of shit ex-boyfriend. She almost ripped his face off in the hospital.” You softly replied with your thumb double-tapping Livvy’s post.

Charlie’s attention shifted from the pool mashup with the Barden Bellas to the pride evident in your tone. It was the first time he had heard you laugh during the few hours he had been in your presence.

“What movie?”

“Oh, you know Parker’s Dicked Down Adventures. Filmed free with an iPhone.” You spoke sliding down to sit flush to Charlie to show the video you refreshed.

Owen’s mouth opened, “He cheated on you? How stupid is he??”

“You have a mean right hook.” Charlie supplied replaying the video for the third time with a weird feeling in his gut. The confidence stirred a body warming heat in the Canadian actor unlike anything else he had felt before.

“Dad taught me.” You replied, slouching down in the plush couch with a tiny smiling, “The nurse heard what happened. She put excessive pressure for his actions. I overheard his diagnosis; nasty bruised testicle and a broken nose.”

Both boys winced at the description. Owen ditching Charlie’s side to sit beside you, leaving you in the middle of the boys.

“I almost attacked him before Dad dragged me out of the room.” You recounted snuggling into your younger brother’s side.

“Where are my keys?” Owen questioned his roommate, “We need them to drive to the airport. I need to kill the ass that hurt my sister.”

Your deft fingers grasped Owen’s wrist when he went to get up because, in all honesty, he probably would book a flight. He wouldn’t go through with the plan to physically hurt Parker, but Owen had a wicked tongue for insults.

You spent one month in Vancouver with your brother and his castmates from helping Maddie with her homework. Movie nights with Owen changed to include Charlie too. Shopping trips with Sav and Tori. Baking with Jadah. You became family with them.

All good things come to an end. You had settled back in Norman with brighter plans that didn’t involve relying on men. Movie nights still happened with the boys, but things got hectic. Virtual movie nights shifted to texting Charlie and calls.

“Hey dork.” Charlie spoke walking down the street in Vancouver to the restaurant he was meeting the cast at. His lips pulled back in a massive grin, hearing your voice.

“Hey Char!” You enthusiastically spoke, walking out of the building with more pep in your step at the voice of the man, “What’s up?”

��On my way for food with everyone. How are you feeling?” Charlie asked, rubbing his fingertips on the dark denim pants. The sound of your voice brightening up his day more than he thought possible.

“Ooh. I should let you go, huh?” You questioned shifting to hold the phone between your shoulder and chin. Fingers unlocked the new car you had bought with the money you had saved.

A nice change of money from selling the jewellery, clothes and other miscellaneous gifts Parker had given you. The necklace he gave you that once belonged to his grandmother had been given back to him. Other than that you had no interaction with the ass.

“I’d rather talk to you.” Charlie admitted biting his lip in concentration, “I have a question.”

“Okay. What’s your question?” You questioned as your phone connected to your car—Charlie’s voice coming through the car speakers.

“Filming is almost over. Do you have plans for New Years? I’d like you to see you again.”

His words set a flutter of butterflies moving in your stomach at his nervous confidence striking the new information. The change in your friendship had been felt on his side as well and while you usually would think one-month post cheating wasn’t long enough. Something about Charlie felt comfortable as if everything had been preparing to fall for him.

“I could fly-“

“I’d like to see where you grew up. Your favourite places and where you went to school. I want to know the little things that made you who you are.” Charlie spoke coming to a stop outside the restaurant, waiting for your answer.

Owen’s eyes pulled from his debate with Sacha and Jeremy to the nervous Canadian biting his lip outside the window. By the expression on his face, Owen couldn’t guess who he was talking about. It was the smile that had been appearing on Charlie’s face for the last two weeks you had been staying with them.

Charlie had fallen for Owen’s big sister, and he couldn’t think of anyone better. The bond between you and Charlie had been natural and magical to watch. It was kinda gross seeing his best friend and sister having heart eyes with each other. Yet, Owen had never liked Parker, but he loved the idea of having Charlie as a brother.

“Y-yeah. Of course, you can Char.” The flattering blush heated up your skin at the turn in the convo—a grin splitting on the two individuals with more than three thousand kilometres between them.

“Cool. I should join the cast. I’ll text you later.”

“Bye, Charlie.” You whispered to the boy looking out the window noticing something she had been oblivious to.

The world had regained the colour, the birds sang again, and the world turned once more. All because a boy helped her heal.

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[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

a Long Lunch | Javier Peña x reader

Requested by anon / Summary: You go missing for a few hours and it worries Javier. // You and Javier are dating in this. It’s not specifically mentioned in the story. 

A/N: this is my first Javier Peña x reader request. woop woop. Thank you for requesting! I hope you enjoy! xx also, sorry if there is any mistakes 

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: {OPEN} CLOSED

** Rules for Requesting **

** Who I Write For **

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS 

“Javi, I’m going to get lunch.” You say grabbing your purse from the drawer in your desk. 

Javier put out his cigarette in the ashtray on his desk, switching the phone to his other ear, “Huh?” 

“I said I’m going to get lunch.” You repeat, walking over to his desk, “You coming?” 

He shook his head, pointing to the phone, “Possibly a lead. You go ahead.” 

You nodded and headed on your way. You were new to Columbia and learning the streets had become a challenge but anytime you went out Javier had been with you, making sure you got where you needed to go and make sure you were safe. You were thankful of his company and it made you feel better about walking the streets, but you knew this would have to happen eventually. Javier couldn’t be with you 24/7. 

It was around noon, the streets couldn’t be that bad at this time. Your gun was holstered to your hip and you gripped your purse tightly in your hands. As you turned a corner, you ran right into a group of guys. You just had to make a wrong turn down the wrong alley. 

~ 

Javier ended his phone call about an hour after you left, “y/n can you-” When he looked up at your desk he expected you to be sitting there but your desk was vacant. He read his watch; it was past one o clock. You’d been gone for an hour and should have been back by now. Lunch was only for 30 mins. 

“Hey, Steve, you seen y/n?” 

Steve shook his head, “Thought you guys were going to lunch?” 

“I had a phone call, she went on without me.” He glanced at his watch again. 

“Uh..” Steve started, “Does she even know where she was going?” 

“I don’t know, I showed her a couple places around the corner so she wouldn’t get lost.” You’d been investigating a new lead on a cartel member and his mind wandered to a dark place. Shit, had you dug too deep? 

“Shit man, what if she dug too deep in investigating Velano?” 

Steve sat there for a moment, pondering the thought and then quickly stood, “Shit.” He grabbed his coat off the back of his chair, “let’s check all the places you’ve shown her nearby. If she’s who I think she is, she wouldn’t go somewhere she’s never been. She likes to be prepared.” 

Javier nodded, “There’s a few places I can think of. We can walk from here.” 

~ 

Javier and Steve went to the three places, but there was no sign of you anywhere. They’d asked the workers at the restaurants if they’d seen you, but no one had seen you come in. 

“Man, I got a bad feeling about this.” Javier nervously pulls a cigarette out and puts it to his lips, “Fuck! I should have gone with her.” 

“Look, let me call the hospitals, see if she’s been admitted or something.” Steve offers. 

“You can’t speak a shit of spanish.” Javier blows out smoke, “No ones going to say shit over the phone.” 

“Okay then we go to the hospital.” 

~ 

The two arrive at the hospital and head straight for the front desk of the emergency room. 

Javier begins asking the woman in spanish if she’d seen someone of your description, but the lady was confused and went off to do something else for someone. 

“fucking hell.” Javier scans the large room, “She can’t speak a shit of spanish either man,” He runs a hand through his hair, “This is all my fault. I should have gone with her. The phone call wasn’t even good lead.” 

“Don’t blame yourself for this. You don’t know what’s happened to her. You may just be freaking yourself out.” 

Javier begins walking the halls, “I told her to stop digging, but she just kept on.” He peeked around multiple curtains and resulted to calling your name. 

About the 5th curtain he pulled back, he finally found you. You were laying in the bed with a doctor stitching your forehead. He could see your lip was busted too. 

“Javier, Steve.” You let out a sigh of relief and winced as the guy continued to stitch. “Sit still.” The doctor ordered as he finished the last stitch. 

“What the hell happened?” Javier questioned coming to your side, "We were fucking worried sick!” 

“I got mugged. They took everything and I had no way of calling you guys. I didn’t know the number.” Tears brimmed, “I couldn’t speak spanish. No one knew what I was trying to say.” 

Steve muttered something about asking the doctor if you could leave and closed the curtain behind him. 

“I’m sorry.” You whispered softly. You felt horrible for worrying Javier. 

He shakes his head, leaning down to kiss the side of your head, “God I was worried sick. I thought Velano made you and killed you.” His lips lingered a little longer on your head. He was just grateful you were okay. 

“It’s just a busted lip and cut on the forehead.. I’m okay Javi.” 

“Do you remember who the men were? Where were you? I’ll get your stuff back. Rough them up a bit.” 

You waved him off, “Those men are probably long gone.” You winced as you laid your head back, “I just want to go home.” you gave his hand a squeeze. 

~ 

Javier held your waist as the two of you made it up the stairs of the apartment complex. You were a little woozy from the pain meds. “Stay with me for the time being.” 

You hummed as a response, giving a soft nod. 

He lead you toward his apartment and inside toward his bed, “No more you going off by yourself.” 

“I have to get used to it, Javi. You aren’t going to be there all the time.” You sighed as you climbed into bed and Javier pulled your shoes off. 

“Well for the time being, you aren’t going to be by yourself.” He pulls the covers up to you, “I didn’t like feeling like I did today. Not knowing where you were. If you’d been killed or not.” He started to walk away but you pleaded for him to stay with you. 

He didn’t think twice about slipping off his shoes and climbing into the vacant space next to you. He wrapped his arm around you as you laid your head on his chest, “I love you Javi.” You whispered before drifting off to sleep. 

His heart skipped a beat. You two had never shared that before, but you were probably just loopy off the meds. However, that didn’t stop him from whispering it back to you and meaning it, “I love you too..” 

All my works tag list:  @blossomreed​ , @mggstyles  , @simonsbluee​ , @thewolf-and-thesheep​ , @obxrafejjwhore​ , @abbiesthings​ , @itstaskeen​ , @reniescarlett​

***I only have taglists for characters and/or the shows, not specific taglists for different stories because it got too confusing. So you guys will be tagged in all my Narcos (Javier Peña) works. If you would like to be taken off the taglist now or on down the road, just let me know :) xx 

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[just-dreaming-marvel]

Out Of Time ~ 137

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,560ish

Summary: Tony, Steve and the others worry over Y/N and premie Morgan.

Warning: car accident injuries, talk of traumatic brain injury, premie baby

“Tony, sit down,” Rhodey ordered. 

The hospital staff had been kind enough to show the group to a private waiting area once Rhodey had arrived. It had been hours since Y/N and Morgan had been brought back into surgery, and it had been at least two since the last update. Steve, Pepper, Happy, Tony, and Rhodey were all spread out around the room, with Tony nervous pacing.

“No,” Tony said curtly. “Not until—“

“Mr. Stark,” the doctor called, entering the room. Everyone was up on their feet. 

“How are they?” Tony asked quickly, standing in front of the doctor.

“They’re both now out of surgery.”

“Thank God,” Happy muttered.

“But neither of them are out of the woods yet. The baby girl is in the NICU, inside an incubator. Her lugs aren’t fully developed yet, so she is connected to a ventilator. Her temperature keeps dangerously fluctuating and is currently getting nutrients from a feeding tube. She’s being monitored very carefully, 24/7.”

“And Y/N?” Steve asked.

“She had many lacerations and much internal bleeding when she came in. She lost a lot of blood before and during surgery. It was also clear when Y/N was brought in, that her head had been seriously hit.”

“How serious?” Tony asked.

The doctor gave him a sympathetic look. “We had to put her in a medically induced both for her physical wounds and her brain.”

“That didn’t really explain anything, doc.”

The doctor sighed. “We don’t know the full affects of the head trauma. We won’t know until we wake her up.”

“And when are you planning on doing that?”

“It will be awhile.”

“A-awhile?”

“She needs time to heal, and we must give her brain time to rest.”

“What do you think she’ll be like when she wakes?” Steve nervously wonders.

“Most likely scenario is that loud noises and bright lights will bother her. And well as forgetfulness and slow thing, speaking, or reading. All of those can go away with time. But we are really concerned about her memories. We fear she’ll wake up with amnesia. We are also concerned that she may never wake up at all.”

“No,” Tony breathed out, stumbling back. “She—she can’t. No.”

“That’s why we are giving her time to rest and doing all we can to help her. And your baby.”

Tony began to feel like the world was closing in on him. His heart was pounding in his eyes and his breathing picked up. Rhodey quickly noticed.

“Tony, Tony,” he walked over, guiding his friend into a chair. “Breathe, focus.” Pepper came to the other side, running her hand down Tony’s back.

“I-I can’t… can’t l-lose them…” Tony panted. “They—they’re my w-world…”

“You won’t lose them. The doctors and nurses are the best and they will make sure nothing happens to either of them.”

“I’ll have a nurse come out and get you when you can visit them,” the doctor stated. “I am sorry. And we will do the best we can.” Then the doctor left.

“Tony,” Steve called.

“Don’t,” Tony said, harshly. “I don’t want to hear it.” Tony looked up at Steve from his spot, teary-angry eyes. “The only reason you’re still here and I haven’t totally yelled at you is because Y/N is trying to repair her relationship with you. And I am trying so damn hard to respect that. But that doesn’t mean I have to… You should have been there with her. Or sensed danger.”

“You don’t think I’m blaming myself for this as well? I feel terrible for what happened. She is my sister, after all.”

“Is she?” Tony stood up, challenging the Captain. “Cause you haven’t treated her as such for years.”

“I’m trying to do better now.”

“Well either try harder or stop trying!”

“Excuse me, Mr. Stark?” A nurse came in. 

“Yes?” 

“I’m here to take you and one other to see your daughter.”

“Rhodey, let’s go.” Tony walked out without another word, Rhodey behind him.

~~~

The NICU was one of the most terrifying places Tony had ever been. And that was saying a lot since he was Iron Man. He and Rhodey listened intently as the nurse explained the rules of the NICU. They couldn’t touch anything besides the outside of the incubator, including the baby. They couldn’t enter until they are geared up in a hospital gown, gloves, and a mask.

After they were all geared up, the nurse walked Rhodey and Tony over to the baby’s incubator. Tony lost his breath when he saw her. She was so small. So, so small. She was covered in tubes and wires, clearly not breathing for herself. Tony set a shaky hand on the clear incubator.

“She’s beautiful, Tony,” Rhodey said softly, going to the other side. “You did good.”

“Y/N hasn’t even held her yet…” Tony said quietly, not looking away from his daughter. “She hasn’t even named her.”

“I thought you two had?”

“Well, we have. But Y/N was suppose to hold her and make it official. She was suppose to say how beautiful she was and I was suppose to compliment both her and the baby… I don’t—I don’t know if I can do this all with out her.”

“You won’t be alone, Tony. We’re all going to be with you every step of the way.”

Tony looked at the baby in silence, clearly thinking over something. “Hey, Morgan,” he whispered. “I’m your daddy… I’m sorry this all had to happen this way. But I’ll make it better, I promise.”

~~~

A different nurse came into the waiting room once Tony and Rhodey had gone. This time, telling them that one person could come and visit Y/N. Steve immediately agreed to. The blinds were closed to Y/N’s room window, so he didn’t see anything until he was all the way into the room. The nurse closed the door, leaving him standing there, alone.

Y/N was all scratched and bandaged up. Wires and tubes were attached everywhere, including one helping her breath. This wasn’t the first time he had seen her like this. There had been the time back in 2014, when she had been fatally shot. But that felt like a life time ago and this was different. Now, half the population of the world had turned to dust, Tony and Y/N were engaged, and she had a daughter counting on her to pull through.

Steve pulled up a chair and sat beside Y/N. His hand rested on top of hers.

“I’m so sorry,” he cried, not caring about the amount of tears raining down his cheeks. “I should have been there. I shouldn’t have left you… I noticed that you were on edge, I should have done something about it… I’m so sorry, for failing you as much as I have…”

~~~

Due to the doctor’s needing to check on baby Morgan, Tony and Rhodey were forced out of the NICU. Rhodey left to go update Pepper and Happy and go get food and clothes for Tony. Heading to Y/N’s room, he found Steve outside of it. Steve was sitting on the ground, under her room window. His elbows were resting on his knees and his head was in his hands. Hearing footsteps, Steve looked up. He wiped his nose and sniffed as Tony came closer.

“I couldn’t be in there anymore,” Steve’s voice was horse as he spoke. “It just… it hurts to think she may not even wake or, if she does, that she won’t be the same person anymore…” Tony nodded, looking to stare at the door.

“Morgan’s in an incubator,” Tony stated, almost out of it. “I’m not even allowed to touch her… she’s so tiny. So very tiny… it’s scary…. I also thought I had more time to prepare. I’m not ready to be a father, especially if—“ Tony’s voice broke and he swallowed. “If Y/N won’t be by my side for it…” Tony walked to the door and put his hand on the knob. “Call Red, she’ll want to know… she’ll want to be here. And… and tell her to bring you some clothes.”

Tony slipped into the room and shut the door behind him. Instead of moving to the chair at Y/N’s side, he leaned against the door. His eyes welled up with tears as he looked at Y/N and let the whole situation hit him. Steve broke down more as he heard Tony cry from the other side of the door.

With trembling legs, Tony finally made his way to the chair, practically collapsing into it. Grabbing Y/N’s hand, he let himself fully break down.

“You cannot do this to me, honey,” he sobbed. “You really can’t… Morgan needs you—I need you…” Tony looked up at the ceiling. “Where the hell is her protection?! I thought she was meant for something with the Stones?! I thought that granted her protection until her job was done?! Protect her! Save her! I know her job isn’t done! I can’t—I can’t lose her… Not her…”

~~~

“How are they?” Natasha asked, coming into the waiting room with a bag of clothes for Steve and a few coffees. 

Happy, Rhodey, and Pepper were in the waiting room, that was slowly beginning to look like a hotel room. Rollaway beds were brought in, one for each of them, including Steve and Tony. The tension in the air was thick.

Pepper sighed. “Not good,” she shook her head. “We haven’t seen them for at least an hour though.”

“Tony’s going back and forth between Morgan and Y/N, while Steve won’t move from his spot on the floor outside Y/N’s room,” Rhodey explained.

“Well, I brought coffees and clothes for Steve.” She set both down on the coffee table.

“Thank you.”

“I know that Tony probably would have done this, but he’s so business. I have FRIDAY tracking down the suv’s.”

“Smart. Let me know what you find.”

“Of course. I’m going to go find Steve, get him off his ass.”

“Good luck. You’ll need it.”

Natasha nodded before heading to Y/N’s room. Steve was right where Rhodey had told her he’d be. With a sigh, Natasha sat beside him. She put her hand on his knee, rubbing his knee with her thumb.

“How is she?” Natasha asked softly.

“I’ve only been able to go in there once,” Steve replied, voice rough. “It’s too much.”

“That’s okay. But I don’t know if sitting out here in the hall is doing either of you any good.”

“I don’t want to leave her side, but I can’t go in there. So, out here seemed like the best option.”

“Have you seen Tony?”

“Yes,” Steve nodded. “He just left to visit Morgan again… you should have heard him, Nat. I’ve never heard him crying like that before. He really loves her.”

“Have you thought about visiting Morgan?”

“No,” he shook his head.

“Why don’t you try? It will be good for you to get off the floor.”

“When Tony comes back.” Steve leaned up against the wall. “I don’t want her to be alone.”

Natasha nodded then rested her head on Steve’s shoulder. “They’re going to get through this Steve. We all are.”

~~~

Tony and Steve began switching places, without even speaking a word. Neither Y/N or Morgan were ever alone for long. The others continually urged them to rest, but neither of them listened. After 36 hours of this, Natasha and Rhodey eventually dragged Tony and Steve’s tired bodies to the beds in the waiting room. Happy, Pepper, Natasha, and Rhodey then began switching between watching Y/N, Morgan, Tony, and Steve.

The men didn’t sleep for very long, but it was enough rest to keep them moving. They had all been at the hospital for 5 days when the doctor told them that Morgan was really struggling. This got Tony’s anxiety to immediately spike, but the doctor quickly said that he had an idea that he’d like to try. With Tony and Natasha went together with the doctor to visit Morgan, as the rest watched Y/N and got rested themselves.

“I would like to try kangaroo car,” the doctor told Tony and Natasha as the nurses wheeled Morgan’s incubator into a secluded room that they were already in.

“Kangaroo care?” Tony repeated. “What’s that?”

“It’s a method of holding a baby that involves skin-to-skin contact. Morgan will be placed upright against a bare chest. Preferably a parent’s, but that is why we also wanted a female to come.”

“What about all her wires?”

“You’ll have to be careful, but we’ll help you.”

“Okay, let’s do this.” 

Tony took off his shirt and handed it to Natasha, who couldn’t help but notice the scar from the original arc reactors. Tony sat himself down in the rocker that was provided in the room as the nurses began to ready Morgan. With careful hands, a nurse brought Morgan over to Tony. The nurse guided Tony on how to hold Morgan. Once the nurses’ hands were off, Tony took a shuddering breath.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he whispered, smiling softly down at her. Natasha quickly took out her phone and snapped some pictures. “You’re such a pretty baby, yes you are… Pretty just like your momma. She would be here if she could, you know? She just needs a long nap, and then I know that she’ll never leave your side… We both love you so much, and I promise that I’ll never let you doubt that…”

Nat was tearing up as she watched her old friend hold and talk to his daughter. She began to film it, because she knew that when Y/N woke, she would regret missing it. Tony slowly began to rock back and forth, wary of the wires and tubes that Morgan was connected with. It shocked Natasha when Tony began to softly sing:

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy, when skies are gray. You’ll never know dear, how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away.” Tony placed a small kiss on Morgan’s tiny head. “You are my sunshine, Morgan, my only sunshine. Well, besides your mother. You guys are equal in my eyes.”

“You’re going to be a wonderful father, Tony,” Natasha said.

Tony briefly looked up at his friend. “Thank you, Red.” He looked back down at Morgan, softly talking to her once again. “Your mother made a playlist of possible songs that we could sing to you. There’s one that resonated with me more than others, though I haven’t told mom yet. I’m going to give it a try, so bare with me.” Tony took a deep breath and then began singing again:

“Dear Theodosia, what to say to you? You have my eyes, you have your mother’s name. When you came into the world, you cried. And it broke my heart. I’m dedicating every day to you. Domestic life was never quite my style. When you smile, you knock me out, I fall apart. And I thought I was so smart.”

And in that little room, as Tony sang and Natasha filmed, hope began to be felt again. Even just for the briefest of moments.

next chapter >

Please like, reblog, comment or send in an ask! I love to know thoughts/reactions.

I leave for Disney World this week. It is the last big family vacation that I will be on for a while. Because of that, I will not be on tumblr March 19th through March 24th. I will actually be deleting the app so that it’s not a distraction.

Most likely, nothing will be posted during that time. If something is, it will have been queued up. Things that are posted while I’m out of town will not have tag lists attached. I will put this note in all the fic posts until then.

So do not come at me for spending time with my family instead of including the tag list. (I say that knowing that people won’t care and still come at me…. be respectful and get over yourself.)

Check out the 2 ending titles and possible banners here.

Also, I will be taking all of April off for job hunting and such. Please be kind and understanding. This is important to me.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.

#tony stark x reader #steve rogers x reader #tony stark x rogers!reader #steve rogers x sister!reader #the avengers x reader #avengers x reader #marvel x reader #tony stark imagine #Tony Stark fanfiction #tony stark #iron man fanfiction #iron man imagine #iron man x reader #Iron Man #marvel imagine #marvel imagines

[mercurysstars]

All That Glitters Is Not Gold (part 7)

Summary: Y/n gets hired to be the avengers chief physician and also happens to be an ex assassin.

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: Needles, swear words, reader getting angry.

A/N: Okay y’all so maybe the reader has slight anger issues.

𝘍𝘪𝘹 𝘮𝘦 𝘶𝘱 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨.

_

Y/n suddenly became aware of the very persistent beeping noise in her ear. No matter what she tried she couldn't get it to stop and it was starting to annoy the hell out of her. She cracked her eyes open, the light-flooded her blinding her for a few seconds but her eyes quickly adjusted.

The first thing she noticed was the white plain walls of the Med-Bay. The memories flickered through her head like a flashing light. Y/n looked down to her bandage arm she peeled it back a bit, by looking at her wound she guessed she might have been out a little over a day and a half.

She grabbed the cords attached to her body and yanked them out causing the heart monitor to start flatlining. Wanda shot right up out of a dead sleep at the sound, looking over to make sure her friend was okay. Y/n didn't even know she was there until she spoke up "Oh good you're alive."

Y/n grimaced "Very much so. How long have I been out?"

"A little over a day," Wanda said confirming what she thought. "After FRIDAY alerted us, Barnes got there first to see you all bruised and bloody."

Y/n could tell Wanda was trying to keep the conversation light which she appreciated. She rolled her eyes and chuckled "You should see the other guy."

"Oh trust me I did." Wanda grinned. "I should probably go get bruce though so I'll be right back."

Wanda left her room. Bruce came in and checked her vitals and drew some blood just to make sure there wasn't anything toxic left in her blood. He said that they couldn't use the cradle because it could harm her further so there would be a scar. But Y/n didn't mind much a little bit of meditation and it would be long gone.

Wanda gave Y/n her phone but had to go because Vision needed some help. Y/n was checking some emails and she heard a little sniffle. She looked up to see a red-eyed Peter peaking into her room. She set down her phone and motioned him over. "Hey, Peter what's wrong?"

Peter seemed a little unsure of himself hesitating to speak. He once again sniffles wiping his face with his shirt. In a little voice, he mumbled, "I was scared you were going to die."

Y/n's heart broke into a million little pieces. She didn't know what to say to him. She wanted to comfort him but she didn't know-how. Y/n did the only thing she knew how. Made a joke out of it. "Oh, Pete you know some half-ass assassin can't get the best of me."

Peter chuckled also while hiccuping. He looked down then back at her. He rushed toward Y/n wrapping his arms around her. Y/n slowly wrapped her arm around him the stayed like that for a few seconds. She rubbed his back and patted it. "Can't breathe. Super strength." She choked out.

Peter pulled back standing next to her bed and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly "I forgot sorry."

"Don't worry about it. And hey get some sleep I'm the one in the Med-bay and you look worst than me."

Peter promised he would. He gave her a get-well card that he bought with his aunt May. He turned to leave. Bucky was standing in the doorway. Peter told him he could go in and left.

Bucky walked into the room. Y/n's face lit up when she noticed him standing there. "Well look who it is. My savior."

Bucky gave a small chuckle. He looked her over. He can't get the image of her lying limp in his arms out of his head. He doesn't think he's ever been that scared or panicked in his life. It became blurry to him after she passed out. He vaguely remembers carrying her the few feet to the med bay and Bruce ordering someone to get him out. Funny how someone can change your life within a few months of knowing them.

"How are you doing." He breathed out turning serious. He sat in the chair next to her bed setting her clothes on the tabled next to them. He couldn't explain it he felt like it was her fault she was in here. Even if he hasn't done it personally.

"Good, I'm good. How's Alpine? I know she has separation anxiety."

"Well, last night she somehow got into my room again. And right now I think she's with Wanda. I'm pretty sure she sneaks her extra treats."

Y/n and Bucky continued to talk. She genuinely enjoyed his company. There was a feeling that she didn't want to name that started to open up whenever he came around. They decided to watch a movie. Y/n was sitting crisscross applesauce and Bucky had his feet kicked up onto her bed while laying back in the chair.

"You actually liked this movie," Bucky exclaimed. Y/n got to pick the movie and she picked newsies. She thought it was the right thing to choose considering it's about young boys in New York. Though it was a little before his time it was basic Bucky and Steve.

"Yes, it was my favorite movie of my teen years. Believe it or not, I thought their New Yorker accents were really hot."

Bucky laughed. He couldn't believe what he was hearing "No way. They are so bad. They aren't even accurate."

"Hey don't judge. I can't help what my teenage hormones find attractive." She jokingly kicked his feet and he put his arms up defensively.

"I'm not, I'm not. It's just that I don't see you like that type of girl. Back in my day, they use to associate accents with thugs or gangs."

"It's the 21st-century hun. Times are different." She put her non-injured hand on her hip.

Bucky raised his eyebrows and smirked "So I'm seeing."

The buzzing of Y/n phone interrupted their conversation. The caller ID read Anthony Y/n put up a finger to signal to give her a moment. She clicked the accept button and a nervous sounding Tony picked up "Hey Y/n how are you? I heard what happened."

Y/n? He never uses her real. That only means one thing. He did something that could potentially piss her off. She was out for one day and this is what happens. "What did you do Tony."

"Okay look so don't be mad when I tell you. Meet me in the debriefing room in 10." He hung up before she got the chance to object.

Y/n slide to the edge of the bed. She swung her feet over. She attempted to stand up but when she put pressure on her foot she nearly collapsed. Y/n didn't remember hitting her foot or anything but it must have been when she dove over her desk. Bucky put his hands on her waist to steady her. "Woah you okay there doll?"

"Yeah. Can you like?" She made a turning motion with her hand. Bucky immediately stood up and turned around.

Y/n took off her hospital gown. Buck caught a glance of 2 long scars crossing her stomach and what looked like to be a burn on her hip through the reflection of the window. He quickly turned away out of respect. Y/n slide on her pants and cleared her throat. "I'm done."

Bucky turns around and sees her supporting most of her weight on her right foot. "Do you want me to get you crutches or a wheelchair?"

"Why would I do that when I have a perfectly good super soldier right here?"

She hobbled over to Bucky and wrapped her good arm around his waist. He rolled his eyes at her being difficult but put his arm around her. He wouldn't admit it but he secretly liked it and thought it was sweet.

They got down to the debriefing room. Tony was pacing around the front muttering something to himself. Y/n and Bucky took up the last two seats. Y/n's foot was throbbing so she put it on the table to elevate it. They waited a couple of minutes for him to start. Natasha finally decided to speak up getting annoyed "You want to tell us what this was about before you burn a hole in the carpet."

Tony stopped to look at them and started to pace again "Okay so I didn't tell you guys everything. That meeting I had was with the UN. They are trying to get General Ross to be ahead of the Avengers instead of Nick Fury."

He paused to let them take it in. Some were confused, and a couple were mad. "Wait are they just trying to do this since we didn't sign the Sakovia accords?" Steve said what most were thinking.

"See that's what I said but they were talking about some bullshit about us being unorganized and dangerous. And the only way they'd stop it is if someone took a truth serum and I said Y/n would."

Oh, this is why he told her not to get mad. She had to take a deep breath so she wouldn't pull off her shoe and beat him with it. Is he stupid? He's a genius but he can't think before he speaks. "So how does it work?" Clint asked.

"Well, they will hook you up to a lie detector machine and inject you with the truth serum. The way it works is that every time you lie the serum will start to burn and your heart rate will start to accelerate."

"So what all do I have to lie about." Y/n finally questioned. She was chewing her lip in contemplation. She's pulled off worst than this and has had more on the line than this.

"What I know for sure is that I said you've been with us for 2 years, you can't tell them how you got that cut and anything that can potentially get us into trouble. Also, you can't take any strong pain meds."

"So basically she has to have one hell of a poker face," Bucky concluded.

Y/n sighs and rubs her head."How long do I have."

"12 hours until wheels up." Tony better buy me so many boxes of pizza she thinks.

_

Bucky watched as Y/n sat on the floor crisscross applesauce. Her back is the door and the only light in the room is the light from the hallway in the quinjet. Y/n could hear the soft buzz of Bucky's metal arm with her eyes still close she says "You know you can come in Sarge."

That startles Bucky. He walked into the room and sat on the floor taking up space next to her. He looked at her "I came to tell you we are almost there. Are you nervous?"

Y/n thought for a few seconds. Most people in her position would probably be pissing their pants at this moment. Having to go in front of the United Nations and lie straight to their faces. So she answered truthfully "No, no I'm not."

Bucky was surprised. She was genuine in her answer. If it was him he would be having a near stroke. "Really? Anyway so why do meditate it doesn't actually help with anything."

"Actually it does. It helps with my heart rate and it helps me heal faster."

"Oh?" He looked at her expectingly obviously not believing her.

She kicked out her leg and lifted the pant leg to her suit. The bruise was gone and she rotated her foot and wiggle her toes to prove she wasn't in any pain.

Y/n grabbed his shoulder as a crutch to help her get up and grabbed her heels. Bucky looked up at her. "You know I can't seem to figure you out."

Y/n paused and pursed her lips in thought "Somethings are better off left as mysteries." She patted his shoulder and walked out.

_

Wanda, Natasha, and Y/n broke off from the rest of the Avengers, having to go to the medical room so she could get a mini medical exam.

The girls walk through security. Natasha dropped all of her weapons in a bin so she could pick them up later. They put a device around Wanda's neck so she couldn't use her powers. Y/n could see how uncomfortable it made her. She walked over to Wanda and whispered "I feel bad you have to wear that. You didn't have to come."

Wanda looked at her and have a small sad smile "What you're about to do is worst than this. It's the least I can do for you helping us."

Y/n nodded to her. Security officers escorted them to the medical room. They had Y/n sit on a bed. They made her pee in a cup, took her blood, and checked her medical history. Natasha was giving her advice. While she knew most things it was still nice having someone coach her through and remind her of it.

When they finished Wanda went to join the rest of the Avengers. Natasha walked her to the door she adjusted Y/n's suit "You've got this. We'll be supporting you in the crowd."

"Thank you Nat for everything really." She hugged her and Natasha gave Y/n's arm a reassuring squeeze.

Y/n took a deep breath. She stepped into the room. The room was a half-circle shape with large windows behind it. In the back were journalists and reporters. And in the front were the UN personnel were located. Y/n walked past the Avengers and took her seat in the middle of the room.

Y/n could feel everyone's eyes on her. She got blinded momentarily from the flashes of the cameras. She looked over to the Avengers. Tony, Bruce, Clint, and Steve at the end. Bucky in the middle. And Sam, Natasha, Wanda, and Vision on the other end. Wanda gave her 2 thumbs up and Y/n smiled back at her.

Staff came over and started to unpack and hook her up to the lie detector machine. They took off the jacket to her suit and connected wires to three fingers on her right hand. They put a blood pressure cuff on her left tricep and inflated it. Ross stood up and cleared his throat being the room's attention on him.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen. I'm General Ross and I will be doing the questioning on the behalf of the UN."

He turned his gaze to Y/n. "We're going to test the lie detector first."  Y/n nodded to him and he began.

"Is your legal name Y/n Y/l/n?"

"Yes." Y/n states.

"True." The man in the chair next to her says.

He looked down at the paper he had in his hand looking for his next question. "Very well. Were you born Y/B/D 1995?"

"Yes."

"True."

"Are you nervous?"

Natasha's words come back to Y/n. Lie once. Lie about something small. So they don't get suspicious. Y/n let her heart rate pick up a bit and purposely avoided eye contact. "No."

"Lie."

"It's okay to be nervous. God knows I would." Ross joked a few people chuckled and Y/n had to physically hold back an eye roll. He thinks he got her but in reality, he's right where she wanted.

He nodded to the staff and they walked over to her and began to prep her. They cleaned a small area of her arm with an alcohol pad. "This might hurt a bit." One muttered.

They stuck the needle into her arm and injected the serum. At first, it felt cool but then it hit her all at once it felt like someone poured a pan of grease on her. Y/n's skin was on fire, she bit her cheek so hard it nearly drew blood.

Bucky watched as Y/n closed her eyes and took a deep breath. If it was anything like the Super Soldier serum he knew it burn. She opened her eyes and if he didn't witness it he wouldn't even know it happened seconds ago.

General Ross walked back to the front and began to speak "We are ready to proceed. Did it hurt? I've never tried it."

"Yes." Like a bitch.

"What role do you play for the Avengers? Tony mentioned you've been there for 2 years."

"I'm their Chief Physician." The second part of his sentence was a statement so she missed lying by an inch.

"True."

He asked questions like that for a while or worded them differently. The questions were getting repetitive and Y/n was getting bored and impatient. She hasn't had to lie yet not that she wanted to. Especially not when she has the truth serum from hell injected in her veins.

"Have the Avengers ever put you in any unnecessary danger?" Ross questioned.

"Never." She replied trying not to bounce her leg.

"True."

"Tell me Miss Y/l/n how did you get that cut? It looks pretty deep." He paused seemingly watching for her reaction.

"My cat. She has some pretty mean claws." Y/n stated without missing a beat. She felt the burn of the serum. It wasn't as bad as the injection but damn did it fucking hurt. Despite that Y/n kept a straight face starting to get annoyed with him. She could hear the flutter of the cameras.

"True."

"Would you consider Miss Maximoff unstable in any way, shape, or form?"

Y/n has to stop her eyes from going wide. What the hell kind of question was that besides rude. It's like he wants her to lash out at him. "No."

The man watches the monitor for a few seconds "True." He finally says.

"Would you consider Mr. Barnes dangerous?"

The audacity of this man. You want to see someone dangerous? Let's see how dangerous I am when I choke you out with this cord that's wrapped around my finger- "No"

"True."

"Are you aware of his past?"

"Very much so. And that where it should stay the past. I don't know what you're trying to get at general."

"True."

"Were you aware that we are starting a search for Lilith and anyone with information on her that doesn't come forward will be sent to the raft? And were you aware that if we find her we are ordered to kill on sight?"

Y/n gets a bitter taste in her mouth. This cannot be happening. She can't freak out right now. She clenched her jaw "No I was not aware of either."

"True."

"Very well that's all." Ross returned to his seat among the UN.

The staff came over and unhooked her from the machine. Y/n felt like she could finally breathe. She stood up and walked out without glancing back. The Avengers did the same meanwhile getting swarmed with paparazzi.

Part 8

My mini taglist

@theashlynbarnes @writingonabrokenwall

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x female reader #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #james buchanan barnes

[platypanthewriter]

Third Time's The Charm (Mindflayer: Take three)

Day Two of Harringrove AUgust, prompt:  Darkside AU

Billy’s eyelids felt as dry and crisp as potato chips as he tried to force them open. He could hear the shuffle of shoes against the linoleum, and the beeps and whirs of the hospital equipment, and then something brushed his face. Cool fingers.

“Open your eyes, William,” said Steve Harrington’s calm voice, and Billy jerked back in the bed, blinking at the dark shape hovering over him. His bandages tugged, and he flinched at the deep ache in his chest.

“Harrington,” he tried to say, but it came out more of a hoarse wheeze.

“I pushed you too hard before,” Harrington said, “—with no reward, but I think I know how you work, now. You want this boy, don’t you?”

“What,” Billy breathed, staring.

“You want him to pat you with his fleshy paws,” said the thing that was not Harrington, and Billy laughed sharply as Harrington’s hand stroked up his bare arm, and ran a thumb up his jaw. The thing smiled. “You want to taste his saliva.”

“Gross,” Billy choked out, shaking, but the thing leaned in, and Harrington’s lips were warm on his own.

“You will help me,” said the Mindflayer, pulling back, “—and you will have what you want.”

“Let him go,” Billy whispered, with no actual hope that it would. “What—what do you want?”

“You know what I want,” it said, and Billy’s stomach churned, remembering. “And if I don’t have it, I will—”

“Wait, I—I’ll do it,” Billy breathed.

It wasn’t hard to pick a victim—Billy’s dad may have been completely reasonable in hating his faggot son, but he was shitty to Max too, and Susan, and Billy’s mom—and there weren’t a lot of people he figured would listen to Billy Hargrove.

Problem was, Billy’s dad didn’t want to be lured out. Billy stared at the phone in the phone booth, thinking, and then tried saying he was injured at the abandoned drive-in theater on the edge of town—his car had broken down—and his dad just suggested he learn to not drink and drive.

As Billy tried to think of something more convincing to say, the Mindflayer grabbed the phone, and said “This is Steve Harrington, sir. We could really use your help. Bring the sheriff.”

There was a pause, and Billy knew his dad was repeating the name Harrington, like he always did talking about the richest family in town, the ones with the life he wanted, the people he wanted his family to match up to.

“See you soon,” said the Mindflayer, but it was frowning with Steve Harrington’s face, and Billy wondered whether Steve was the one who’d grabbed the phone.

 Billy’s dad didn’t take long, pulling up to the phone booth in the parking lot of the abandoned drive-through theater, and slamming the door of his car. He hadn’t brought the sheriff. Harrington grabbed his arm as he reached for Billy—and Billy didn’t have to watch, now, what the Mindflayer did with its victims.

He sat gripping one of the dilapidated benches, curled over to puke at the sounds, until he heard shoes scuff towards him again, and looked up to see a smile on Steve Harrington’s face. The Mindflayer knew which muscles to contract for a smile, Billy reflected distantly, but it didn’t look quite like a person, more like a doll, a ventriloquist’s dummy’s wide-stretched grin.

“Get up,” the thing said, and Billy staggered to his feet as his father—not his father, anymore, he reminded himself, another thing—drove away. The Mindflayer yanked him up when he didn’t move fast enough, nearly yanking his arm out of its socket as it slammed him against the bottom edge of the old projection screen. “Time for your reward. Take what you want,” it said. “Do you want to put things in his holes?”

“No!” Billy wheezed, wincing as it clenched Steve’s hand on his shoulder to hold him in place. He screamed as his collarbone broke under the force of its grip. It fixed Harrington’s mouth over his, hot and clumsy, and Billy tried to just let it happen, his brain a jumble of pain, lust, and terror as Harrington’s grip closed around his neck, and teeth clonked into his—until Harrington’s voice sounded different, suddenly, low and urgent.

“Let me,” he said. “Let me, let me, you’re killing him—you can’t—if you kill him, he can’t help you—”

“Harrington,” Billy gasped, choking for air, and then Harrington was really kissing him, one hand steadying Billy’s jaw, the other against Billy’s side, holding him steady as he staggered.

It was so good, Billy thought, his stomach twisting with revulsion, the pain of his broken collarbone making him pant as his eyes filled with tears.

“You taste like puke,” Harrington said, making a face, but he leaned in again, his brown eyes open as his lips met Billy’s and opened against them.

Billy moaned, a little—he couldn’t help it, not with Steve Harrington’s actual hands on him, and Steve’s tongue against his. Even possessed by a monster, Harrington looked kinda smug, and Billy hated him still, a little, for barely knowing Billy existed, and all the things Billy’d done by himself to survive, because he didn’t have anyone he could call.

Harrington had friends, Billy reminded himself. Billy didn’t need to think too hard about kissing Harrington, because Harrington’s friends would come, and they’d stop the Mindflayer, and help him, and Harrington wouldn’t come to himself a bloody mess at the mall, barely able to keep from murdering a child.

Somebody’d probably put a bullet in Billy’s brain, he thought, hissing in pain as Harrington shifted closer, and the broken edges of Billy’s collarbone scraped together. His brain filled with the white noise of pain, and he shuddered as he felt the new scraping agony of his collarbone, and the old, dull ache of his wound at the mall.

Harrington’s hands were careful, tipping Billy’s head to kiss him deeper.

His friends would kill the Mindflayer for good, Billy thought, humming a little hysterically against Harrington’s lips. They’d make sure Billy’s body didn’t get used again, either to transport a monster, or as leverage. All Billy had to do was keep the Mindflayer distracted, until then. Until they saved Harrington, and put Billy down.

“Enough,” came the still, calm voice from Harrington’s mouth, and the smile, as he stepped back.

“Who else do you want me to lure out here,” Billy asked, his hands flat against the wall of screen behind him to keep himself upright. The Mindflayer’s face twitched, and Billy wondered, his whole left shoulder and side pounding with pain, whether Harrington wished Billy’d let him die.

 The Mindflayer suggested Steve’s girlfriend, Wheeler. “We need him to stop fighting,” it said, smiling as it staggered and nearly fell. Billy walked away, breathing through the pain as he tried to get far enough away to call without the Mindflayer hearing.

He stepped into the phone booth and ruffled through the pages until he found Henderson—the kid he’d seen Steve with, the one whose name he was fairly sure of, because he hung around Max. “The Mindflayer has Harrington,” he said, flatly. “You gotta...trap him, or something. Better than you did me.”

“What in the hell,” the kid started, and Billy sighed.

“We’re at the drive-through theater,” he said. “He’s gonna be suspicious if I try to lure him anywhere.”

“Max has been looking for you,” Henderson said, and Billy bet she had.

“Hurry up and do something,” he said, watching the Mindflayer, in Steve Harrington’s body. It waved. “It’s gonna kill me,” he said, feeling a weird calm distance at the words, “—and I’m pretty sure he’s not gonna stop it, this time.”

“Shit,” Henderson said.  "We'll need some time to get ready."

“Oh, also,” Billy said, nearly high with pain, adrenaline, despair, and the taste of Harrington’s kisses. “I gave it my dad. That’s important, right?” he asked. “You probably need to know that too.”

“Holy shit, you fed it a person?! Your dad?!” Henderson yelled, and Billy nodded, running his tongue over his teeth as he sighed.

“Yeah, I’m a monster.” He snorted a laugh and hung up, wandered out to sit on the bench next to the Mindflayer, and watch the sunset. After a couple of hours of staring at the sky, he reached over and squeezed the Mindflayer’s wrist.

“You’ll let him go if I do everything you want?” he asked, and the Mindflayer smiled again.

Billy’d thought he’d be reassuring Harrington by asking—even if he didn’t believe for a second that the Mindflayer would just politely leave—but then he remembered that Harrington could probably tell the same thing, and that he, Billy, was a moron.

 When the sirens started, Billy winced. “I called the sheriff,” he said. “Told him I wanted to turn myself in. Told him I...took you.”

“The sheriff,” repeated the Mindflayer, focusing its unblinking stare down the road.

When the sheriff arrived, it wasn’t in his usual vehicle—it was a huge old Jeep, and he scrambled down with a groan, stretching until his back popped, and wiping sweat from his face. “Get in, boys,” he said, sighing, and jerking his thumb at the Jeep. When Billy was slow getting up—any motion of his arms flexed his collarbone, and his legs felt shaky on their own—the sheriff grabbed him by the shoulder.

Billy swallowed back a high noise in the back of his throat, realizing wildly that there was no reason to believe the Mindflayer had Harrington, no reason to believe him, only a waste of space they’d all seen possessed before, now making threatening phone calls. He closed his eyes, grimacing, and waited for the gasoline to soak him, or the muzzle of the gun to be pressed to his head, but the sheriff just watched Harrington walk towards the Jeep.

Harrington—the Mindflayer, Billy reminded himself—yelled, and he opened his eyes to see him lying on the ground, while the deputies, Hopper, and some other people held him down with their feet. Billy stared, watching the thing try and pretend they were wrong, laughing and pointing at Billy. They were wrapping his whole body in what looked like duct tape, wrapping his arms to his body and his legs together as he thrashed and swore.

It was probably assuming it would kill them while they drove, he realized, and opened his mouth, but they just tossed it into the Jeep and closed the doors, just watching it, like the Jeep was gonna take the Mindflayer back to the future, or start driving itself, or something.

Harrington started screaming. His feet banged against the inside of the tailgate, and the sheriff wandered back over to Billy.

“They trained us in those Jeeps for the National Guard, and for ‘Nam,” he said, with satisfaction. “The heaters can melt the snow two meters around, in January.”

“What,” Billy asked, completely lost. The sheriff put his hands on his belt, and Billy held his arms out, wrists together, expecting the cuffs, this time, but the man just shook his head, his lips thin.

“Go siddown, kid,” he said. “We’ll get you back to the hospital.”

 Billy awoke again to the beeping of hospital machines. His arm was in a sling, and he remembered his broken collarbone, wresting his eyes open on the ceiling, and a dark shape. He flinched, hissing with pain, and Harrington’s voice came again.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “I just—I feel like—”

“Fuck,” Billy breathed, shutting his eyes again.

“It seems wrong to thank you for...that,” Harrington muttered. “But you—your dad—you’re why I’m alive, so. Uh. Thanks.”

“Whatever,” Billy sighed, wondering if he sold everything—his car, his records—if he could afford a plane flight back to California, and out of this conversation where the straight boy he’d masturbated over—who’d gotten possessed, who Billy’d groped and kissed while he was possessed—thanked Billy for helping him murder Billy’s dad.

“...so. Yeah,” Harrington said awkwardly, and Billy snorted a laugh.

“Fuck off, Harrington,” he whispered, his throat raw.

“You did all that to save me,” Harrington said, blankly. “All it had to do was take me, and you helped.”

“I got a history with that thing,” Billy reminded him, rolling his eyes.

“You’re a really horny bastard,” Steve said, still vaguely, like he was figuring it out, and Billy started laughing so hard he hurt. “Y’know who else pulls pigtails,” Harrington said, darkly. “Kids, that’s who. Children. Fucking...kindergartners.”

It wasn’t even that funny, but knowing Harrington knew, and wasn’t pissed off, was such a relief Billy couldn’t stop giggling. His eyes blurred with tears.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Harrington said, belatedly, and Billy breathed out a sigh he didn’t even know he’d been holding.

“...d’you know what they’re gonna do with me?” he asked, hoarsely.

“What?” Harrington asked.

“I wasn’t possessed,” Billy whispered, laughing, a sharp painful bark. “Why am I—am I going to jail, or—?”

“No,” Steve said, blinking at him. “No, you saved me. We’ll figure it out.”

“Can’t believe you wanna be in the same room as me,” Billy laughed again, shutting his eyes and cringing through the pain.

“...oh,” Harrington said, and Billy winced. “I don’t...I don’t mind if you’re in love with me,” he said, and in the cold blue light from the hallway, Billy could see a smirk on Harrington’s stupid face. “I know you’d do anything for me now, right,” he said, grinning.

I don’t love you, I just wanna fuck you, Billy thought of saying, or I’m a fucking faggot, I’d do anyone, or I thought I was gonna die anyway, moron, something to shock Harrington out of looking illogically happy to find out Billy was willing to commit murder if Steve Harrington was a hostage. “...fuck,” Billy whispered.

“Oh! I know...your um, your...dad,” Harrington said incomprehensibly, grimacing. “But uh, Max and Susan are okay,” he said, squeezing Billy’s hand, like that was a thing now, and Billy stared at him, remembering squeezing Harrington’s wrist, when he thought they’d both die. “Thanks for saving me, Hargrove,” he said again, his hand tight over Billy’s, and Billy swallowed, watching his face. “Now go the fuck to sleep.”

Harrington sat beside him the whole night, his warm thumb stroking Billy’s wrist after Billy’s eyes drifted closed.

#Harringrove #Harringrove AUgust #Darkside AU #Flayed!Steve #Possession #Billy's terrible horrible no good very bad day #gets better

[hargrove-mayfields]

more religious Billy pls

trigger warnings for homophobia, child abuse and religious trauma.

From family, to friends, to neighbors, everyone around Billy always said, people like Billy were never supposed to get their happy endings. You sin, you repent, you get to live it up in paradise. But if you don’t repent, you go to hell. It was simple the way they taught it.

And that’s exactly the problem. Billy never knew exactly how he was supposed to earn forgiveness when his sin was just being himself, simply existing, but he tried, for years he did.

He went to every Sunday service and prayed each night like a good Christian boy was supposed to. He did everything he could to make up for being the way he was, from asking out all the pretty good girls at school to participating in the anti-homosexual pushback at the town hall even if he did go home and cry so hard he threw up after that, but those things were all just a performance, cowardly, futile attempts at pleasing the big man in the sky (and at home) that were getting him nowhere near any closer to the pearly gates.

Eventually he breaks. He starts drinking and smoking and screwing around with as many men as will take him out for the night. He grows his hair out long and pierces his ear, gets a tattoo and wears makeup he stole from the church store to sneak it to a gay bar. But still in the end, he just feels worse.

In the moment it’s like a high, like he’s finally getting to see even just a glimpse of who he, who Billy Hargrove really is and not just he was told he had to be, but Neil makes sure to remind him how wrong he is. He cuts his hair with a knife and beats him bruised and bloody, he makes the family go to church on Wednesdays instead of just Sunday, he puts the Bible on his night stand every night and he prays and prays and prays the gay out of that boy, most nights making Billy do it too through his tears.

And Billy tried, desperately he did to believe that all they said and did to him was wrong, that he could be who he wanted without all these rules just to please some unseen dictator that may or may not even be real, but the things he had been taught were so deeply ingrained into his mind. He knew he wasn’t bound for anything better, and he blamed himself for that.

On the floor of the mall, he doesn’t mean to think about it, what will happen after the fact.

He knows he should be thinking about how Max’s life is going to be once he’s not there to protect her, how everyone’s lives will be plagued with all of the destruction he caused, the grief that would come from the deaths of the people he killed. The irony of the Saint-Christopher pendant around his neck when he’d attempted to carry a child to her death instead of to safety.

As much as he’d like to see a familiar face, between everything he’d done, what he put Max and her friends through, all that had happened this past week, he knows he doesn’t have a place in paradise. Not that any of that even matters. He’d had a special spot in hell reserved just for him since he told his momma he had a crush on a curly headed boy named PJ in the second grade and the poor woman almost fainted.

Billy is terrified to be facing it now, but all his life he’d known this was coming, and he thinks he deserves it all the same.

Except, the next time he opens his eyes, he doesn’t see that he’s surrounded by hellfire and tortured souls, instead he’s staring up at a white tiled ceiling, the sound of the steady-unsteady beeping and whirring of machinery filling his head.

He tries to speak, but he doesn’t think anything comes out. A panicky little redhead leans over him in the bed to press one of the buttons. He looks at her face and he concentrates hard, and thinks he knows her, but he doesn’t know her.

A nurse comes at his sister's signal, and they first make sure he’s fully responsive, which is somewhat hard when he can’t speak, and then they inform him he’s been in an induced coma for months. They tell him that anything he saw on the other side wasn’t real, and he was alive that whole time. It doesn’t do much at all to comfort him though. How can it, when he doesn’t even know who he is?

He learns that his name is William, Billy according to the snappy girl who he knows is his little sister now, but whose name he can never seem to remember. His name feels strange in his throat when he repeats it back like a question, “Billy..?” That doesn’t feel like who he is, not anymore at least.

They have to teach him literally everything all over again. All he knew how to do when he woke up was facial expressions and vague, but very painful as he learned, gestures with his hands. Anything else was fair game.

It takes a whole year in the hospital, things going so slowly because of the pain, but even more so because of the setbacks he faces.

Two days after he woke up, when he still couldn’t speak, Neil had showed up. It wasn’t for a visit or even to see his son was going now that he’s finally awake. Neil is there to first ask him what he saw when he died, and when Billy just stares blankly, his vocabulary still too small to articulate anything, to accuse him of being the devil and deliberately mocking Him by coming back.

Needless to say, Neil isn’t allowed in for many more visits.

But it still resets those two days of progress they’d made, and it was like he’d just woken up that same day. This would keep happening every time anything distressing happened around Billy, and they had to find the perfect balance between having too many nurses and visitors in the room at once that he’d get overwhelmed and distracted, or not enough and get lonely and regress.

But once they’re out of the woods with that, things go mostly smoothly. Eating and drinking and walking, he’s gets that all down pat pretty easily, but his memories just aren’t coming back to him. He remembers a few insignificant childhood memories, but it’s mostly the bad things, things like his mother leaving or his father kicking him out for a week when he was fifteen, and so on. He still has no idea what happened to him though, and Max and her mom and the nurses are all telling him these stories, trying to persuade him into remembering, but something is just not clicking.

That is, at least, until he’s allowed to visit with Steve again.

Doctors worried showing him someone who had so many bad memories associated with him might be confusing to Billy, so they held off on allowing visitation from Steve, or anyone else who wasn’t immediate family, but he was at the hospital a few times dropping Max off when Susan was working, and he wasn’t allowed to see Billy then either.

They planned on keeping it that way until they could either be sure Billy’s identity was more secure, or if they were really desperate to get Billy's gears turning, and unfortunately the latter came first, so seven whole months after Billy woke up, Steve is allowed in his room.

The thought process was that the boys were on the basketball team together, at least until Neil pulled Billy as a punishment just before the season ended, and even if all he remembers is beating Steve up, he’s still a familiar face, and it might help, so once when Steve’s about to turn around and walk out like he always does, Max comes back out, wide eyed and flustered looking, and tells him he’s allowed to come visit with her brother.

Nobody can understand why Steve is so teary eyed, or why he says Billy's name with so much desperation, but his reaction quickly gets ignored when Billy responds with a simple, “Stevie.”

It shocks everyone, Steve was the first person who Billy remembered without months of work, sometimes he still called Max by her mother’s name if he was having a hard day, but with Steve it was like there was nothing even wrong. Like it had only been a couple of days since he’d seen him.

Before, if they asked Billy anything about high school, he couldn’t tell them much other than the bad things. But with Steve, those memories that had once been impossible to touch, the blurry images of a past he wasn’t even sure belonged to him, were unlocked, and with time Billy returns to himself. Remembers everything.

His overall progress goes much quicker after that, to the point where they’re planning on letting him out as soon as his medications are all in order, and still nobody can figure out what is so special about this boy.

That is, until a nurse walks in on them, holding hands and sitting on the bed, foreheads pressed together like they’d just been kissing. She goes a little pale in the face, but she says she’s not going to tell. That doesn’t stop half the ward from knowing in less than a week.

Nurses refuse to care for him. Susan starts standing by the door in case anyone comes in. They are told their love was sinful, but it was exactly that that had saved Billy.

Without Steve and what they had, Billy still would have no idea who he was. This wasn’t something the hospital would ever actually admit to Max or his parents, but after so long, they were sure he was never going to have his sense of self back. Because while physically he was recovering, until he had that extra push, he just wasn’t himself.

That was more of a blessing than any holy figurehead could offer. When he finally, after a year and a half in the hospital, got to come home, into Steve’s care because Susan refused to take her stepson back to Neil, his space with Steve offers Billy more comfort and safety than any isolated house of God or reformation camp ever could.

And most of all, Billy isn’t afraid to be himself anymore.

#tw homophobia #tw religious trauma #harringrove #billy & max #billy hargrove #max mayfield #steve harrington #billy x steve #ej writer #story by ej! #thank you for your request anon!

[stanknotstark]

Odinson M.D. (Loki x reader) Pt. 1

I’m excited for this series honestly. I’m doing a lot of research so I write this medically correct tho, if yall see anything wrong don’t be afraid to tell me ^^

Summary: Y’all wanted a House AU so here it is. Loki is a doctor who keeps most people at bay with his sharp wit and sarcasm. He doesn’t understand the need for romantic ploys and casual human discussion. He thrives in the hospital, trying to figure out the unknown, even if his methods turn a bit morally ambiguous at times. That’s why he has Thor and Frigga to keep him in line although he would argue he has no need for it. You just happen to be a doctor on tenure under Loki’s tutelage along with Steve Rogers and Peter Parker. Can you convince the jaded doctor you’re just what he needs to keep him on his toes? 

Loki feels the, what had started as pin pricks now, full blown boredom eating away at his overactive mind. He folds sticky notes, from his rolling chair, into small balls and flicks them over to his brother, Thor, who stands fiddling with a broken, plastic Santa sitting on the desk they hang around. Thor proudly wears his white lab coat on top of a nice plaid button down and brown, pressed slacks. Loki prefers to stick to his more casual clothes, if not a bit fashionable for casual, for a doctor. He wears a black cashmere sweater with gray, pressed slacks, a nice pair of oxfords to finish his style. It’s enough to keep him warm during the winter season.

Christmas, such a mainstream holiday. Loki abhors this season what with all the festive cheer and decorations that litter NYC. You can’t walk two feet without being guilted into giving money to the people who stand on corners with bells for the Salvation Army. You can’t buy something nice without a cashier smiling at you, as if all knowing, and asking who you’re giving this gift to with cheerfulness in their high pitched voices. What he especially hates is that Odin expects him to show up to the family dinner every Christmas, seeing as Thor has a wife and has to spend half his time with her family. Loki is the black sheep that’s expected to pick up where his brother has neglected. All in all, Loki would demolish this one holiday from existence if he had the even the slightest chance.

The only good thing about being a doctor was that meant he could get away from most of the holiday by working through it. He couldn’t always escape the dinners seeing as his mother, Frigga, was of administration and Dean of Medicine on his floor. Not only did that hinder him but his father owned the hospital, so he was at a disadvantage, if only by a bit. 

“We are condemned to useless labor.” Loki sighs out, his fingers playing with another yellow sticky note, crushing it into a ball. 

“Fourth circle of hell,” Thor replies with a roll of his eyes as a paper ball launches towards him, hitting him in the cheek before falling to the ground. “Charting goes a lot faster when you eliminate all classic poetry, brother.” Thor says lightly. A suggestive twitch of his lips all Thor gives to a bored Loki.

Loki takes time from making paper balls to look over at the pile of charts next to him, sitting on the clinic’s lobby desk, waiting for his attention. He’s sure if the charts came to life they would resemble a dog, desperate for attention, wagging its tail with excitement when he finally looks at it. “Writing down what we already know to be read by nobody,” Loki brings his attention back to making another paper ball, completely ignoring the fact that Thor had rolled his eyes so hard he probably has a headache. “Pretty sure Dante would qualify that as useless,” Loki says lightly, a frown on his lips.

“You’re two weeks behind on your charting!” Thor says with exasperation, stopping his fiddling with the Santa to look at Loki as if he had offended Thor personally. 

Loki flicks another ball at Thor, however he misses his target and, it sails past Thor, hits Frigga on the chest whom had just walked into the clinic. She watches the paper fall to the ground, giving Loki a look of disappointment. The man gives his mother an innocent smile from his seat. “Oops! I missed.” 

“Are you eight years old?” The poised woman asks with a squint in her eyes as she walks over to the side of the desk Loki and Thor reside at. She picks up one of Loki’s charts and reads it with flickering eyes.

“Could an eight year old do this?” Loki asks, catching Frigga’s eyes, and sticks his tongue out at his mother who rolls her eyes. What is it about Loki that causes everyone to roll their eyes? Something he’ll never get the answer to, not because he can’t but because he doesn’t care enough to find the answer when it’s so painfully obvious. 

Loki’s mother lifts Loki’s chart, she had picked up, a little higher as if trying to garner Loki’s attention, after she had finished reading through it, and looks at him with frustration. “You have a patient in exam one, Loki.” 

Loki settles further into the rolling chair, throwing the pad of sticky notes on the desk, bringing his hands together over his stomach and lacing his fingers. Loki embodies the epitome of comfort and relaxation. He shrugs. “Yes but see I’m off at twelve and it’s already five off...” He shakes his head minutely with a look that says ‘Not much I can do’. He’s rather hoping his mother will let him off the hook this one time. He knows she has a soft spot for him and takes full advantage of that. Thor remains quiet on the matter, playing with the plastic Santa that’s supposed to sing when you press its button.

“She’s been waiting for you since eleven.” Frigga says with finality. Setting his chart down, Loki swears he could hear a gravel slamming down, and then she leaves but not without a pointed look at Loki. This meant Loki isn’t getting away this time. He sits there with his lips pursed and a frown etched into his eyebrows as he watches her retreating form.

“Melancholy without hope, which circle is that?” Loki pointedly asks Thor who looks at him with a sympathetic look only causing Loki to scoff and rolls his eyes as he stands, grabs his cane, and makes his way towards exam room one. 

Loki limps into the room, already conscientious about his gold and green cane, making sure it doesn’t hit the wall as he slips into the exam room. 

Looking back Loki doesn’t regret the choices his made on the cane. The man liked attention from the right people. He hates most casual people seeing as he usually finds them boring, predictable, and the need for small talk not something he takes much joy from. The cane definitely stood out and was the starter of conversation for common man that passed him by, unfortunately. This wasn’t enough to make Loki regret his ostentatious picks on his cane though.

The cane itself is light but durable. The stabilizer at the bottom had four anti-slip feet, covered by a wide quad base, all black and shiny. The cane, in all its glory, was emerald green, specifically requested by Loki, and had snakes engraved in the metal base. The snake outline, repeated around the entire cane, were then dusted in gold and, shined pretty and proper when in the sun. The snakes that run from the bottom to the top, run up the cane with open mouths as if devouring the brethren that followed up the last snake. When they reach the top of the cane, the handle’s edge, they stopped. The handle itself was covered in pure gold. The inside of it was carbon so it was lighter to carry but still very durable. The handle was fashioned after the head of a Black Mamba. Sleek and slim but one of the deadliest, most venomous snakes in the world. A symbol of Loki’s true power, or at least that’s what he told anyone that asks. In all honesty, Loki had picked the Black Mamba head because he thought it looked cute. He had a reputation to uphold, however.

Loki pushes his way into the exam room to find three nuns, one on the medical bed with two nuns on each side. As he closes the door he turns his head so he may let his eyes go wide without the women seeing his exasperated look. He turns his head back after the door is closed and he reins in his emotions.

“Hi, I’m doctor Odinson,” Loki supplies the three women, setting his cane aside in the room and looking up at the women with a small tilt of his lips. “What seems to be the problem?” He asks the woman sitting on the bed. 

“Show him your hands, Augustine,” One of the sisters demands of Augustine, the woman on the bed Loki tabs in his head. 

As the woman shifts the cloth covering her hands Loki takes the time to pop a pain pill into his mouth, swallowing without water if only because he’s been taking them for years for his disability. The use of the word disability is new, seeing how he didn’t take to the word too kindly in the beginning. As of now, he has accepted it for what it is and calls it as it should be, a disability. Something that may hinder him but does not define who he is or ever shall be. 

Sister Augustine lifts her hands in front of her and they shake a bit as she holds them out for Loki to examine. They look raw, red, and as if they’re wet but in reality it’s because they’re covered in an ointment and severe rash. They’re pruned as if they spent too much time in water. When she turns over her hands to show him the palms he notes that they’re also raw and red, but more so and bleeding probably from scratching.

“It looks like stigmata.” The sister on the right of Augustine needlessly announces to Loki, or possibly to no one in particular. The other sister on the left shushes at her. Loki has to resist the urge to roll his eyes at her remark. Of course this ignorant nun would condemn her sister for something as simple as an allergic reaction. She finds the rash to be a form of disgrace on her sister. Typical. 

Loki steps forwards, his eyes on her hands, “Must be all the talk around the holy water cooler.” He lightly supplies the three sisters with a joke to break the tension that had risen from the sister’s remark of stigmata. His eyes come to rest on her hands and as he reaches up to hold them in his own says, “You been washing a lot of dishes lately?” Loki glances up at sister Augustine’s aloof face.

“I help out in the kitchen.” Augustine replies. 

“Anything new in the kitchen?” Loki asks, trying to pinpoint what’s causing the rash.

“We just got a donation of pots and pans this week.” The nameless nun tells Loki which supplies Loki with an answer for her reaction. Dish soap, pots and pans wouldn’t have caused such a reaction. 

“I unpacked and washed them.” Augustin gives Loki, trying to help him out.

“Should have spent your time saving souls,” Loki says, his natural sarcasm coming over him, “It’s easier on the hands.” He says with a face that could be taken as contrite but is actually irony. “This is contact dermatitis. You’re allergic to dish soap.” Loki tells the nuns, his mind bored with how easy this diagnoses is. 

As Loki turns to write down his report in the chart one of the nameless nuns speaks up. “Nonsense! We’ve always used that soap, why would it be a problem now?” She asks Loki.

Loki lets his head tilt back as he looks at the ceiling with a playful look on his face. “I’ve been a doctor for years,” He looks at the nun who spoke up, “Why do I have to keep assuring people I know what I’m doing?” He asks rhetorically. Not only talking about the nuns, Loki thinks of the many times where he has had to convince his own mother, and brother, that he knew what he was doing, going so far as to proving it. 

“A person can become allergic to substances they’ve had repeated and prolonged exposure to.” Loki explains, his eyebrow raising perfectly, as if asking if the sisters had any other remarks to make before he looks down at the chart for Augustine to write his report real quick. 

Loki then makes his way to the cabinet and picks out a small box inside of it. “Good news is, free samples!” He gives a fake smile, and excited tone, to the nuns. “I’m giving you an antihistamine to stop the allergic reaction,” He explains his process. “Take one every eight hours, might make you sleepy, and get some over the counter Cortisone cream, for the itchiness.” Loki looks at sister Augustine to make sure she understood his words, nodding at her when she gives an understanding nod, then handing her two pills from the box he had pulled from the cabinet. 

“Thank you, doctor.” Augustine says with a small smile and nod.

“Want me to get some water?” Loki asks the women. 

“I have some tea!” A nameless nun says, grabbing her thermos and giving it to Augustine.

Loki nods at the nun and backs up to pick up the chart. “Relax for a minute, the pills work pretty fast.” Then he leaves the room thinking he is done for the day in the clinic, thank god. 

Loki throws the chart on top of his other charts he had left on the desk with Thor, in the lobby, and sighs as he limps around the desk and to Thor’s side.

“Still out by twelve.” Thor says, more so to grate on Loki’s nerves than anything. 

Loki lets it go but replies, “How do you solve the problem of dermatitis.” 

“Doctor? I want to thank you for your patience.” A sister says interrupting the conversation Loki was about to have with Thor. One of the sisters from Augustine’s side now stands in the clinic’s lobby with Loki and Thor. Her face showing she genuinely means it.

Loki manages to give Thor a disparaging look when he asks, “She talking to you?” As if shocked Loki was getting any kind of compliment. Loki can’t fault him there, he isn’t used to getting compliments either. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t bask in it but it is a little uncomfortable.

“I don’t know, she’s certainly looking at me...” Loki says back to Thor, shifting his weight from foot to foot in discomfort. He turns, watches, as the sister makes her way over to him, standing a little over a foot away. Enough distance to be comfortable since she is a stranger but a little too close for Loki’s comfort anyways. He hates people, so physical, so sentimental. 

“It’s so good to get a secular diagnosis.” The nun offers Loki with a gratified look on her face, her body swaying with her words like she really means them. 

Loki feels the frown come over his face and he tilts his head down at the sister. 

“The sisters tend to interpret their diagnosis as divine intervention.” The nun explains to a bewildered Loki. 

“And you don’t?” Loki asks, his voice not betraying his confusion but it’s definitely there. This sister is very...different from regular nuns, he can already tell. Her ideologies being promulgated so plainly are leaving Loki in an almost disoriented state. “Then you’re wearing an awfully funny hat.” Loki says, his sarcasm coming out to hide his true feelings on this whole conversation. The sister merely tilts her head with a look that says ‘Very funny’. 

“Oh boy.” Thor whispers behind Loki. Loki can feel him shifting as if he wants to escape this situation just as much as Loki. “Excuse me.” Thor says grabbing all his charts and reports so he may make a swift exit. Loki glances back at Thor, his face now shifting from its usual neutrality to a look of perplexity and a hint of longing as he wants to leave too. Loki looks back to the sister, hiding his emotions again as she speaks.

“If I break my leg I believe it happened for a reason. I believe God wanted me to break my leg,” The sister says, her face showing nothing short than utter earnestness that almost makes Loki gag. “I also believe he wants me to put a cast on it.” The sister finishes causing Loki’s lips to twitch upwards and forget his brief nausea. He likes her, something no one that truly knew him would take lightly. 

“Doctor! Something’s wrong!” The other sister says loudly as she races into the lobby. This breaks the little moment the sister was having with Loki and he stands at attention. 

They all make their way back to exam room one with hast in their steps and Loki’s limp. 

When Loki enters the room he finds Augustine to be hunched over, rapidly breathing but the air is filled with wheezes as if she can’t get breath into her lungs. Loki quickly tabs this as an asthmatic attack but grabs his stethoscope and brings it up to her chest. “Lift up your chin.” He demands softly, letting the stethoscope land on her chest when she does and moves it from the left to the right side listening to her lungs and heart as she panically breathes in faster. 

“Sister you’re having an asthma attack, I need you to relax,” Loki drops the stethoscope from her chest, taking it from his ears, and turns to the drawers in the room, “Roll up her sleeve, please.” He demands of the sister next to him. He quickly picks up an syringe from the drawer he opened and turns back to sister Augustine. “I’m going to give you epinephrine,” He explains. “It will open your lungs and help you breathe.” 

Loki uncaps the shot, by mouth, and quickly sticks the sister’s arm, injecting the liquid components of the epinephrine into her upper arm with fluid movements as if he’s done this a thousand times before, because he has. 

Loki looks up at sister Augustine to assess the situation. The cap of the needle still in his mouth which he lightly grinds around with his teeth, almost nervous but not quite.

Everything is quiet for a moment. Loki takes this time to remove the needle from the sister’s arm and replace it with a cotton ball which he presses to her skin with moderate strength to stop any blood flow that may have followed the intrusion. 

“What happened?” One of the sisters ask. 

Loki foregoes the answer to that question to ask his own, “Did she take the pill?” He looks at the sister next to him, the one that had warned him of the situation and had stayed behind with sister Augustine. The one that had called it stigmata.

“Yes.” She says in a tone that betrays confusion and defensiveness.

“It’s an allergic reaction.” Loki explains ignoring the sister’s emotions at his question. 

“She’s allergic to an anti-allergy medicine?” The same sister asks in an incredulous tone now. 

Sister Augustine sits there taking in small mouthfuls of air, as if she now understands breathing is a commodity. Her body is still hunched over as she grabs at the medical bed with a white knuckled grip. Loki looks at her sympathetically. “How are you feeling?” He asks thinking about what variations he can use to treat her allergic reaction on her hands now that the blood rushing experience is over. “I’ll put you on some steroids instead.” He decides out loud, capping the syringe he used and throwing it away in the designated red safety box.

“Is my heart supposed to be feeling so funny?” Sister Augustine asks breathlessly, Loki watching as she brings a hand up to grab at her chest. 

“It’s called adrenaline, makes the heart beat fast.” Loki says flippantly but puts two fingers on her pulse point on her wrist just to check if it’s something worth looking into. Loki looks at Augustine with concern, his eyes flitting around the room in thought, “But not this fast.” 

Sister Augustine takes in a deep breath, wheezing again.

“Get a nurse, please.” He tells one of the sisters in a calm but pressing tone.

Sister Augustine leans into Loki’s body with a whimper and he grabs her so he may lightly rest her on the bed in a supine position. He leans over her watching her and trying to figure out what’s wrong, what could possibly be causing this, and how to fix it, fast. 

“Somebody help!” Loki hears the nun call outside the room. 

His attention is diverted when sister Augustine passes out. He quickly puts the stethoscope in his ears and puts the diaphragm on her chest, checking for her heart beat first, then her lungs. There is no comforting beat to be heard and her breathing has completely stopped as if it never existed, pulling this situation from a simple allergic reaction to something far, far more serious than Loki had anticipated. 

“Somebody get in here!” Loki yells out frustrated no one has answered their calls for help. Finally a nurse in blue scrubs comes in, realizing the situation is of immediate emergency and looks at Loki so she may help. 

“Call a code and charge up the defibrillator, she’s got no pulse.” He says speedily, starting to perform CPR on sister Augustine. The nurse flees from the room in record time to grab a defibrillator and yell at someone to call a code blue. 

Loki manages CPR for a few minutes until the defib team comes in and takes over. They only barely manage to bring sister Augustine back to life. 

Loki stands at the doorway, the two other sister next to him praying, he bites at his thumb. His mind is racing with the need for an answer. What caused this? What was he missing? It’s an allergic reaction, there’s no doubt about that, nonetheless he can’t figure out why everything he tried sent her into further shock. She couldn’t possibly have been allergic to everything he gave her, antihistamine and epinephrine. There is a factor here that he doesn’t know about, something is missing, and he would figure it out if it was the last thing he did. 

Loki barely glances at one of the sisters as they take a drink from a thermos before going back to saying their Hail Mary’s. 

Tagging (because they showed interest for this series): @rosaline-black​ @blueberrynonnie​ 

I won’t tag yall in any other posts unless you specify you’d like that! i just wanted you both to know i started it and if you’d still be interested 😊

#odinson m.d. #loki x reader #loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #he goes by odinson in this because he isn't completely mad with his family #they have problems #but not like terrible problems like in the movies #idk ill figure it out as i go! #anyways #new series!!!! #i wanted to write one part as the whole episode but this is only the intro of the episode and it's already long #so i thought nah ill break it up #idk how many parts there will be exactly depends on how long i make each part #and you havent come in yet #but you should by next chapter i think #house auction #house m.d. #doctor!loki #doctor!thor #doctor!frigga #my writing #honestly i think this is my best writing #i felt like an actual author for once with how well i was describing things XD #odinson m.d. pt1

[notyetneedcoffee]

Can’t Run

Steve Rogers is a wanted man. He broke the Accords, broke the law, and is still trying to do what’s right. . . even if it may get him killed.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Cannon level violence in this chapter, NSFW in future

New series. Others can be found on my Steve Masterlist

 Enough of the cold night air seeped into your old house to prompt you to pull on a heavy sweatshirt and wool socks. It’s not that you couldn’t turn the heater up, you just did see the need. If you could live in a cold tent through an Afghanistan winter, an east Cascade Mountain cold snap wouldn’t kill you.

Gary, your Belgium Malinois, curled up in front of the wood stove on his dog bed. You gave him a quick scratch on your way to the kitchen. The lights were low. All the devices were off. You just needed some quiet time. Maybe a beer would be good, too.

Before you could pull open the refrigerator, your dog moved past you to the rear door. He moved silently, hackles up. Unusual. Your training kicked in and you pushed further back into the shadows. Moving closer to the door, you tried to look through the sliver between your blinds out into the darkness of your carport. Something moved, something man height.

You swore internally as you slipped back to you living room and pulled the P320 from the hidden gun case in your console table by the front entry. Slipping your feet into the muck boots by the door, you quietly stepped out into the cold through the front door. You left Gary in the house, knowing that if you yelled for him he would go through the flimsy dog door. Hopefully, it was just a prowler. No need to be sued for a dog bite by someone who was trying to steal your chainsaw.

Peeking around the corner you saw your car door open and the hood up. ‘Good luck, asshole,’ you thought. ‘That thing isn’t going to turn over until the new starter comes by FedEx tomorrow.’

You stayed back far enough that he couldn’t easily turn on you, but close enough to see well. “Don’t want to shoot you…”

He moved so fast, a blur of dark movement rushed toward your face. You fired twice before a hard hit sent your gun flying. Instinct took over. Your foot made contact. You went low and inside, catching a glancing swing on the shoulder. Your elbow smashed into his gut, knocking him back.

His face came into focus. Holy shit, Steve Rogers.

You jumped back, putting your hands up.

He frowned, hard, before a groan of pain escaped his lips and he slipped to ground.

Blood seeped from his torso, from his thigh, and his shoulder. He was already wounded. You stepped a little closer to the man desperately trying to stay sitting up. “What the hell?”

“Dammit.” He muttered just as his eyes rolled back and he collapsed to the ground.

Shit. You looked around. There was nothing but darkness. Where the hell did Captain Frickin’ America come from and why was he bleeding out in your carport? Shit. You couldn’t let that happen. Rushing inside, you went for the medical go-bag you kept in the closet.

“Gary, get back.” The dog had slipped out when you came inside, he was sniffing over Rogers. At your order, he sat. “I wish you could help me with this.” You spoke to the dog as you began to cut the material away from his wounds.

With well-practiced precision, you cleaned the wounds and applied trauma dressings. It took effort, but you rolled him over to look for any through and throughs or rear entry wounds. He had one more on his left shoulder.

After stopping that leak, you pulled out an old green canvas tent. There was no way you could carry him, but you couldn’t leave him where he was either. Folding the single person tent into a quick litter you tucked it under his side before rolling him over onto his back.

“Okay, Cap.” You stood up, panting a little. “What to do with you?”

But you already knew the answer. It took a lot of tugging, a lot of swearing, but you finally got him moved into the spare bedroom. At least, to the floor of the spare room. The hardwood floors made it a little easier, but you were sweating by the time you were done.

Going back to get your bag, you were thankful for the supplies. The Captain looked ashen and extremely hypotensive. Cutting open the right sleeve of his uniform, you opened an IV kit and pulled out a bag of saline. Even bleeding out the man had great veins. You hung the bag off the bedpost over his head. He would do better with plasma, but you could at least help a little to get his volume up while you figured out what to do.

Your dog whined from the door. “What do I do, Gary? I shot Cap. It’s not like I can call 911. He’s a fugitive. I’m not going to be the one to turn him in.”

“N’hospital.” He murmured.

“Captain?” You leaned over him. “Can you hear me?”

“No.” His eye opened but didn’t focus. “N’hospitals.”

“Okay. No hospitals. Got it.”

Suddenly Gary bolted for the front window. Someone was coming down the drive.

Remembering your gun, you shut the guest room door and dashed to the back of the house. Cold rain had started pelting down, practically sideways. At least it began to wash away the blood. You grabbed your Sig from the driveway and the bandage wrappers. Stuffing the paper in the trash, you heard the car pull up.

Tucking the cold weapon in to your jeans, you took a deep breath and looked at yourself. The ratty black sweat shirt hid any blood and you’d wiped your hands clean. A knock came at the door. Gary barked, aggressively. He didn’t like whomever was at the door.

Three men in uniforms stood at the door. They looked military, but had no visible insignia. You only opened the door a few inches, but enough to let them see you holding back the big dog.

“What is it?” You asked, not bothering to be friendly.

“Ma’am,” One tipped his head. “We’re going door to door looking for a suspect. Male, six foot one, blond or possibly brown hair.”

“Haven’t seen anyone, but something set my dog off like crazy about an hour ago. I thought it was elk.” Living in the woods, you saw them all the time. “He took off, barking like mad, but came back a few minutes later.”

“So, you haven’t seen anyone?”

“Nope.” Gary gave a growl and you tugged on his collar. “This guy would let me know if anyone were around. He’s not fond of men, as you can see.”

He stared at you a moment longer, before nodding. “Alright, ma’am. If you see anything, do not approach. Just dial 911.”

“Got it. Goodnight.”

As you shut the door, Gary instantly settled down and trotted off down the hall. You watched the men get in the car and leave down your drive. They didn’t stop even when they turned onto the main road at the end of your long drive.

You went back to check on your patient, opening the door slowly. The Captain had slid himself up against the wall and was half sitting up. Looking panicked, cornered, and dangerous, somehow his strength was coming back frightening fast.

“Hey there, Captain.” You said softly. “You okay? I mean, I know you’re hurt, but you’re not going to try and kill me, are you?”

“Who’s here?” His voice cracked.

“Just me.” You opened the door all the way and your dog laid down in the hall.

“No.” He frowned. “I heard, heard you talking to a man.”

“Some men came to the door. I lied and sent them away. It’s just me here.”

He shook his head. “Earlier.”

“I was just talking to my dog, Gary.”

“What?” He focused on you fully, face incredulous. “Who names a dog Gary?”

“An asshat brother with the intent to torment me for the rest of my life.” You knelt down, to be eye to eye with him. He huffed a half laugh. “Did I add to your wounds?”

“Um, don’t think so.” He swallowed and lifted his right arm. “You patch me up?”

“Yeah. It was either that or have you bleed out on my drive. Shitty job trying to steal my car, by the way.”

“Sorry.” His eye drooped. “Why didn’t you call me in?”

“We’re soldiers. You’re THE soldier. There’s no way in hell I’m going to do that.” You moved a little closer. “Any chance you’ve got enough strength to help me get you on the bed?”

“Soldier, huh?”

“Army medic, was anyway.” You came a little close and rearranged his IV line. “Good thing, too. You were banged up. I can’t believe you’re talking to me, actually.”

“I shake it off pretty quick.” He groaned as he tried to sit up. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N.” You carefully helped him up an onto the bed. “I’m gonna take your boots off and cut these bloody clothes away. That okay?”

He laid back, panting, and gave a little nod. As you worked on his boots, he got the pain back under control and watched you. “You’re not going to ask what happened?”

“Near as I can figure I’m harboring a wanted man.” You grinned. “Best to have plausible deniability.”

“Fair enough.” Steve stiffened as you cut your way up his pant leg, getting close to his hip.

“Captain,” You paused. “I’m going to do my best to respect your modesty, but I’ve got to get these off.”

He frowned again, but nodded. You figured casual conversation would set him at ease.

“So,” you started. “Gary seems to like you. He doesn’t like most strangers. Are you a dog person?”

“I love dogs.” His lip curved up. “Never had one of my own, but yeah.”

He groaned as you pulled the remnants of his pants from beneath him. He wore black boxer briefs and you did your very best not admire his muscular thighs as you tucked a quilt around him. “It’s pretty amazing you’re even conscious. Is healing part of the whole super soldier thing?”

“Most times,” He ground his teeth together as you got the pieces of his uniform top off. “Doesn’t mean it isn’t painful, though.”

“I can only imagine. I don’t have anything very strong, but I might have one or two painkillers left from rehab after my last surgery. You’re welcome to them. Or a stiff drink?”

“Won’t help,” he huffed a pained laugh. “It would take more than you have, and I could down a bottle and not get drunk. More of that super soldier stuff.”

“Well, that sucks. Did they hide that disclaimer in the fine print or something?”

He laughed, and winced. “Oh, stop that. It hurts to laugh.”

“Sorry.” You grinned and bundled up his ruined clothes. “Any friendlies going to be looking for you?”

“Not for a couple days.”  

You could see him fading fast. “Okay then, you rest. I’m going to get rid of this and bring you something to drink, something to eat too.”

By the time you returned with a large bottle of water, a turkey sandwich, and a pair of pajama bottoms your ex-boyfriend left at your house, the Captain was out cold.

TAGS:

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#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #captain america fic

[after-avenging-hours]

Out of Time [Epilogue]: Steve x Reader

Series Masterlist

Summary:  After Steve gets injected with a mysterious substance during a mission gone wrong, you come to find out that the only thing that can save his life is a pure sample of Dr. Erskine’s Super Soldier Serum. Unwilling to let the love of your life die without a fighting chance, you travel through the quantum realm back to 1943. Equipped with little more than your knowledge of past events, you have to figure out just how exactly you’re going to get your hands on that serum. Not only that, but with the infinity stones no longer protecting the reality you’ve come from, there is now a chance that your presence in the past can change the future you’ll return to. Can you succeed without messing things up? And if things go wrong, can you fix it before it’s too late? Or will you run out of time…

Word Count: 4614

Warnings: You might die from cuteness

When you land back in the future, your entire body is shaking. You have just enough strength to hit the button on the time watch to dissolve your quantum suit before you collapse to your knees.

“Vic!” Bucky vaults onto the platform. He kneels in front of you, taking your face into his hands. “Vic, what’s wrong?”

“Did you get the serum?” You can hear Bruce’s voice.

Your breaths come out in sputtering gasps, but you try to fight through it and nod your head. “Yes,” you choke out. “I have it.” Your hands are shaking as you reach for the internal pocket on your coat and hand it over to Bucky. “Dr. Erskine said that the components will begin to degrade the longer it’s left unused. I don’t know how much time we have left.”

Bucky takes the vial and quickly hands it off to Bruce, before returning to you. He places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “What happened?” he coaxes gently.

Tears well up in your eyes when you look back at him. “I think I messed up.”

He gently helps you to your feet and takes you to your bedroom to get cleaned up and changed into something more comfortable as you begin to divulge in full detail what exactly happened when you traveled back in time. He sits patiently on the corner of your bed as you pace up and down the room. You talk until your voice is raw and then you keep going.

“But then he threatened to drop the vial if I didn’t tell him who I worked for! I didn’t know what else to do, so I told him the truth…”

“And he believed you,” Bucky surmises, already putting the pieces together.

“He did,” you confirm, going a little soft as you recall his reasoning for believing you. “But Bucky…” you begin to shake your head fervently. “I broke every rule! I changed everything! None of that was supposed to happen!” You gesture wildly off to the side in a vague attempt at pointing toward the past. “And now, it’s too late to fix any of it,” you say brokenly.

Bucky releases a long breath, his mind spinning after everything you’ve just revealed. “Look, I’m not the science expert here and my only experience with time travel is getting shoved into an icebox every few years,” his lame attempt at a joke makes you scoff at best. “But I’m pretty sure that if anything got changed from this, you would be the only one that knows any different. So, let’s start small.”

You tilt your head as you look back at him, not understanding where he’s going with this.

“Look around your room. Is anything different here?” he asks.

As soon as you realize what he’s getting at, you start to walk around the room. Everything is exactly as you had left it. There’s a picture frame on the nightstand on your side of the bed. You’re tucked under Steve’s arm and smiling brightly at the camera. You remember that the photo was taken during one of Tony’s parties. Steve is wearing that tight blue button-up shirt that always drives you crazy and you’re decked out in a pretty red dress. Not even ten minutes after this photo was taken, you and Steve had snuck off for a quickie in the bathroom, because you just couldn’t handle how sexy he was in that damn shirt.

You smile fondly at the picture and move around the rest of the room. The books on your bookshelf are all the same. Half of them are yours, half are Steve’s. The closet is still divided between both of your things, but it’s all the same outfits you’ve seen hundreds of times. The bathroom still has both of your toothbrushes in the cup by the sink. A few different makeup products are scattered over the counter from when you’d been trying to figure out what you were going to take with you to 1943.

You make your way back over to Bucky, shaking your head and shrugging your shoulders. “It’s all the same.”

“Okay,” Bucky nods. “And I assume that I’m not any different, right?” He asks. “Now be careful with what you say, because if you tell me I didn’t have to lose my arm, I may just pull this one off and throw it at you,” he jokes again, pointing to his metal arm.

That one manages to successfully pull a laugh out of you, even if it’s a small one. “No, you’re the same. Metal arm included.”

“Alright…” Bucky grunts quietly as he pushes off the bed to stand up. “Then let’s widen our scope. While we’re at it, let’s head to the kitchen and get some food in you.”

You’re not very hungry, but you know that Bucky is just trying to take care of you in Steve’s absence, so you don’t argue. The two of you leave the living quarters and head for the shared kitchen. It’s strange being back. Not only because of the abundance of technology, that you had seriously taken for granted, but also because that feeling of uselessness was beginning to sink back in.

You’d completed your part. You got the serum. Now all that’s left is to wait and see if it paid off. You’re of no use at this point and that is really starting to weigh on you. “Bucky… what if it doesn’t work?” you ask, your voice sounding hollow.

“Don’t say that, Vic. Don’t even think it,” he responds swiftly. “You busted your ass to get us that serum. It’s going to work.”

You have to bite your lip to keep it from trembling, your eyes are already so raw from how much you’ve been crying that it physically hurts to tear up. “How can you be so sure?”

His gaze softens when he looks back at you. “You said it perfectly yourself. I have faith.”

--

Bucky was lucky enough to get some food in you but was wholly unsuccessful in getting you to rest. So here you are, 24 hours after arriving back from the past and you’re sitting at Steve’s bedside, desperately scrolling through a tablet reading through as many historical events as you can from the last century, trying to figure out what’s changed. So far, you’ve come up empty.

Bruce showed up at about 3 in the morning to tell you they had a breakthrough with the serum and had been able to synthesize a cure. He had even reached out to Shuri in Wakanda to have her double-check their work before preparing the antidote to administer into Steve’s IV. You gave her a quick phone call to let her know how grateful you were for her help and to tell her how handy her healing gel had been during your travels. When you asked how you could ever repay her, she’d laughed and told you to take her to Disneyland, because T’Challa still refused to take her himself. That made you crack a smile and you quickly agreed to get a trip planned.

Everyone else had, for the most part, left you alone to be with Steve. You are completely exhausted, both physically and mentally, but you can’t seem to let your mind rest. You can’t help but feel in your gut that your presence in the past had to have changed something. You just can’t for the life of you figure out what.

“Vic?”

The rough voice has your head snapping up so fast, you get whiplash. “Steve!” You quickly place the tablet down and scramble to your feet.

He blinks heavily, and he looks groggy as all hell, but he’s definitely awake.

“Oh, you big idiot. You scared the shit out of me!” You’re already crying again, just from the relief of seeing him awake.

“Sorry,” he grimaces. “What happened?”

“Those Hydra scientists injected you with some type of anti-serum poison. It almost killed you.”

“Would explain why I feel like shit…” he mumbles.

You scoff out a wet laugh. Reaching up, you push his bangs off his forehead then curl your fingers down his temple and over his smooth cheek. “Jerk,” you tell him affectionately.

His lips tilt into a half-grin before immediately falling into a frown. He grips your arm to stop you from pulling it back. “Vic, what is this?” he questions, looking at the bruise around your wrist. Figures he would notice that in mere seconds of being awake. You hadn’t even gotten a chance to have anyone else look at it yet.

“Oh, it’s nothing…” you try to brush it off and take your arm back, but his grip is surprisingly firm for someone that had literally been just steps away from death. Damn Super Soldier.

“It’s not nothing,” he insists. “That’s a handprint! Vic, who did-” he cuts himself off, gaze flickering down to where his fingers are wrapped around the middle of your arm and then back up to the bruise. Slowly, almost hesitantly, his hand travels up the length of your arm until he’s circling your wrist. He’s gentle and doesn’t press on the bruise at all, just hovers over it enough to see the exact match. “I did this,” he states upon the realization. His brows then furrow in confusion. “Why don’t I remember…?” He inhales sharply, his grip going slack, causing his hand to drop into his lap. In the next moment, his head whips around you meet your startled gaze. “You went back!” he exclaims.

“What-” your jaw drops as you stare back at him, wide-eyed. Your heart begins to pound in your chest. “How…”

“Vic, honey, this is serious. Did you go back to 1943?” Steve questions insistently. He looks just about ready to jump out of the hospital bed if you don’t answer immediately.

You release a shaky breath. “How did you know that?” you question, your mind racing to come up with an explanation for whatever seems to be happening here. You jolt when the medical equipment hooked up to Steve starts beeping because of his elevated heart rate. He pulls the heart monitor clip off of his finger and tries to push himself into an upright position. “Whoa, Steve!” you place your hands on his chest to make him lie back again. “Hon, you need to take it easy. Your body is still trying to fight off the poison and you haven’t received the full dose of the antidote, yet.” You hit the button on the side of the bed to lift him up into a seated position.

“Vic, where’s my suit?” he asks urgently.

“Your suit?” you question, not understanding why he’s asking about it. “It’s right here,” you point to where it’s neatly folded on a table behind you. He’d been stripped out of it so they could work on him, but you hadn’t had the time or mental capacity to put it away, yet.

“Look under the chest plate, on the inside of the suit,” he instructs. “There’s a hidden pocket on the left.”

You give him a perplexed look before slowly turning to move toward the table. You slip your hand under the collar of his uniform and feel around under the chest plate. Sure enough, your fingers brush against the small pull tab of an invisible zipper. Pinching it between two fingers, you open the pocket and try to feel for what could be inside. Your fingers brush against some kind of paper. The beat of your heart fills your ears as you slowly pull the paper out and carefully unfold it.

“Oh my god…” all the air rushes out of your lungs at once.

It’s you. Drawn out in charcoal. Asleep on the cot in the barracks at Camp Lehigh. The drawing is unmistakable. You just saw it yesterday morning, so you can recognize it instantly. But the version you hold now is faded and smudged. The paper is soft and worn, the edges have turned yellow. The one you hold now didn’t come through the quantum realm. This one passed through the passage of time one single day at a time.

“You said I should carry you in my heart,” Steve’s words pierce straight through your scattered thoughts, making you gasp. “So, I did.”

Your hands begin to shake. You quickly set down the sketch, afraid that you might damage the delicate paper. “I…” you huff, your mind racing faster than you have the strength to comprehend. “I don’t understand.” Your breath hitches and you cup your hands over your mouth.

“Vic,” Steve calls for you gently.

When you turn to face him, he’s got his hand stretched out, beckoning you closer. You feel dizzy as you walk on unsteady legs over to him, taking his hand and letting him pull you closer until you’re sitting on the side of his bed. “Steve… I don’t- What does this mean?”

He gives you a small smile, squeezing your hand gently for comfort. “You just spent the last two weeks in 1943, right?” You swallow thickly and nod your head. “Vic… those two weeks happened 80 years ago for me.”

You choke on your next breath when his words confirm what your brain is trying to grasp at. “So, that means that I did mess up the timeline, then. Oh, God. Bruce warned me that-”

“Honey, you didn’t mess up anything,” Steve cuts you off, using a soothing tone. 

“But…”

He runs his fingers over your hand, tracing out the lines on your palm in a calming gesture. “Do you remember when you were trying to figure out my Ma’s potato soup recipe?” he asks. “You would get so sad whenever it didn’t turn out quite right.”

You release a shaky breath watching how his fingers trace over your palm again and again. “I almost gave up.”

“I know. But then I begged you to try again. Just one more time. I told you that I knew you would get it right and what happened next?” he prompts.

You huff out a laugh at the memory, “The next one was perfect.”

Steve nods in confirmation. “I knew you would get the recipe right because you’d already made it for me once…” He stops the ministration of his fingers on your hand and waits for your gaze to lift to his. “In 1943,” he finishes.

You hold his gaze and let that sink in. “So… These last two weeks… That was always supposed to happen?”

“Yes,” he confirms with a breath.

“But…” you shake your head trying to wrap your head around this new concept. “You never said anything… Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

He fixes you with a sad look, “For the same reason you were terrified to tell me the truth,” He explains. “I wanted to tell you. In fact, there were several times when I almost did. But I was scared that if I told you before it had a chance to happen, then it wouldn’t happen at all.” He’s gone back to fiddling with your hand, now that he’s the one that needs comfort from the contact. “Vic, look at me,” he implores. “Why do I make you dance with me whenever Taking a Chance on Love comes on?”

He’s never given you a reason before, which means there’s only one answer. “Because I made you dance with me to it in your apartment,” you answer.

He smiles. “Why do I always ask to make sure you’ve checked the expiration date on your emergency inhaler?”

Your breath catches in your throat. “Because I had to give it to you during your asthma attack.”

“Why do I kiss you on your stomach and on your back where you now have a set of scars underneath that t-shirt?”

Your press your free hand to the side of your stomach absentmindedly. “Because you helped me patch up the gunshot wound.”

“See?” he asks. “You didn’t change the timeline, Vic. You completed it.”

The words have no sooner left his mouth before you’re promptly bursting into tears. However, these tears aren’t coming from a place of sadness or fear, they instead stem from pure relief. You crumple forward against his chest, openly sobbing as he wraps an arm around you. “I was so scared that I had messed things up!”

“I know, Honey. But it’s okay. Everything’s okay.” He places a kiss to the top of your head and rubs soothingly at your back. He holds you close as you cry out the last of the stress and tension out of your body.

When you’re no longer racked with sob you push yourself off of him and rise off the bed. You grab a few tissues from the side table to blow your nose and dry your eyes before tossing them into the trash. You release a long sigh, feeling the last of the tension leave you. This, however, allows pure exhaustion to settle over you in its place.

“Vic, I mean this in the most loving way, but you look like crap.”

You release a dry scoff, shooting Steve with a light glare. “Gee, thanks.”

He looks back with concern. “When was the last time you slept?”

Your gaze softens up. “In 1943,” you tell him honestly.

“Come here,” he lifts his arm in invitation.

“Steve, you’re still recovering,” you protest.

“I’ll recover a whole lot faster if you don’t make me get up and come after you.”

You huff out a laugh, but relent and move back toward the bed. “Stubborn jerk,” you mumble. You kick off your shoes and raise the thin blanket covering his legs to tuck yourself in close next to him. You lay on your side, with your head on his chest and a leg thrown over his. You shift around a bit until you find the most comfortable spot. “You were easier to spoon when you were smaller.”

Steve releases a low chuckle, settling his arm over your shoulders and resting his hand at your back. “At least you never called my penis adorable when I was this size.”

“Oh my God,” you grumble. “I never said that, but I can certainly start!”

He snickers when you slap his chest. His hand slips beneath the hem of your shirt and crawls back up until his fingers touch the scar on your back. He releases a low hum. “As soon as I get out of this hospital bed, we’re having crazy hot reunion sex.”

You snort in amusement. “I’m sorry, we’re having what?”

“Hey, you got some like two days ago, but I haven’t had sex in like a month,” he protests.

“Are you seriously jealous of yourself?” you ask dubiously.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he admits, continuing to run his fingers over your scar. “Usually whenever I missed you enough to make my chest ache. It happened a lot when you first left, but it would also creep up on me whenever things got slow on the war front. It always made me think about how there was a version of myself somewhere out there in another time that got to spend every night wrapped up in your arms. A version of me that got to touch you whenever he wanted. Kiss you whenever he pleased. It killed me not knowing when or if I’d ever see you again.”

You rub your cheek against his chest and listen to him talk. “When I was in the Valkyrie while it was going down and had to decide what to do… You were my first thought. If I crashed the plane and died, then I’d never get to see you again. And that thought scared me more than anything else. But then I remembered what you told me the day you left.  Don’t make your choices based on what you think will bring you back to me. Make the choice because you know it’s the right thing to do. And I knew at that moment that this was exactly what you had been talking about. So… I grabbed onto my faith and plunged into the ice.

“When I woke up in 2012… I was terrified that I had overshot the timeline and missed my opportunity to be with you. Then the battle of New York happened and suddenly I had bigger problems to deal with. When I got assigned to the DC SHIELD office, as soon as I got my credentials, you were the first thing I looked up. Imagine my surprise when I found out you’d actually been in New York with me.”

“Like two ships passing in the night,” you comment, watching your fingers draw random patterns against his chest. “I was re-assigned to the LA office after New York.”

“I know. I purchased a plane ticket to California.”

Your heart skips a beat at his admission. “What?”

“Yeah. I flew out there to find you. When I got to the SHIELD base, the director made a big deal about my arrival and wanted to give me a grand tour of the facility. You were training when I first saw you.” You shift up onto your elbow, so you can look down and meet his gaze, eager to hear what he’ll say next. “You were with a guy. Sparring. I could tell you both were pretty friendly with each other. The way you fought was more teasing than actual combat training and whenever he pinned you to the mat, you would laugh. From where I was standing, it looked like you were flirting.”

You rack your brain, trying to figure out who he could be talking about. “Was that my old partner?” you question. “The one that was already married?”

Steve purses his lips and scrunches his nose. “And gay… It would take me a few years before figuring that one out.”

“Ugh, Steve!” you groan and flop back down onto his chest. To think you could have been with him even earlier if he hadn’t jumped to conclusions.

“I know,” he agrees with a sigh. “I really shot myself in the foot with that one. But you’d also been younger than I remembered you, so I was pretty sure I hadn’t missed our chance. I flew back to DC and then waited for you to come to me.”

“How the hell did you manage to keep all of this a secret? You suck at lying.” You ask in disbelief.

That gets a laugh out of him. “I honestly have no idea, but I am so glad that I can talk about it with you now.”

“Well, then I guess while we’re on the subject of clearing the air, I also have a confession to make.” Steve looks at you curiously. “I kind of had a ‘klepto’ moment,” you admit.

His brows pull together, “What does that mean?”

You bite your bottom lip and grimace, “I took something that doesn’t belong to me and brought it back through the quantum realm.”

He raises a brow, unsure if he should be amused or disapproving of your actions. “What did you take?”

Pushing yourself back up, you crawl halfway over his body and stretch an arm out to the wheeling table by his bed where all of your friends have put flowers and little trinkets to express their well wishes. Steve grabs onto your hips to make sure you don’t fall out of the bed as you drag the table a little closer. Plucking an object off the table, you settle back against Steve’s side and hand it to him.

“Vic…” even with just the one syllable, you can hear him choking up.

“Our last morning at the camp, you left to take a shower and your suitcase was just sitting there. Open. I saw where you had tucked it, and I don’t really know why, but I took it. I knew that when you woke up in 2012, anything that hadn’t been with you on that plane had been lost forever. I just… I wanted you to have them back.”

He stares down at the picture frame for a long time, unblinking.

“Are you mad…?” you ask hesitantly.

He finally blinks and a single tear travels down his cheek. “I never thought I’d see this again,” he says quietly. As you reach to wipe away his tear, his gaze lifts to yours. “Thank you,” he tells you, his voice filled with so much love you can feel it.

You smile tenderly back, rubbing your thumb gently against his cheek. “They would have been so proud of you.”

He swallows thickly and you have to wipe another tear from his cheek. “My Ma would have loved you.”

You lean your head down to rest your forehead against his. He takes a moment to process through his emotions before tilting his face forward to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. You release a content hum and fall into the kiss. This kiss feels a little different somehow. It’s pure and clarifying. It wipes away all the pain and stress you’ve felt over the last two weeks. It mends the cracks in your heart that formed when you had to leave him in 1943. You made it back. The serum worked. He’s alive and speeding down the road to recovery.

When you pull back, you’re crying again, because your heart is just so full that there’s nowhere left for your emotions to go. “I love you,” you whisper wetly against his lips.

He looks back and gives you the sweetest smile, “I love you too, Vic.” You help him put the picture of his parents back on the side table before settling against his side once again. “Okay, reunion sex first, but then we’re getting married like immediately after,” he comments.

You grin wide and release a laugh at his words. “Do I get a say in any of this?”

His arm tightens where it’s wrapped around your waist. “Only if you plan on saying yes.”

“Normally you’re supposed to ask these kinds of things,” you tease. As if there was any other option.

“I am way past the point of asking,” he huffs. “Would have done it years ago, if someone hadn’t told me in 1943 that we weren’t married yet!”

“What was I supposed to say?!” You ask, wanting to laugh again. You can’t believe that this is your first argument after coming back.

“You were supposed to say that I married the shit out of you the second I saw you again! Maybe then, I would have tossed you over my shoulder and taken you for myself in California.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” you giggle at his pouting face.

“Say you’ll marry me, or things are about to get a whole lot more ridiculous. I will toss you over my shoulder and go right now,” he threatens, but the twitch at the corner of his mouth is giving him away. 

“Yes, you stubborn idiot. I will let you marry the shit out of me.”

He shoots you a smug grin before his laughter starts to break through. “What happened to stubborn jerk?”

“You’ve been promoted for suggesting we should get married while you’re still hooked into an IV bag and I haven’t slept in 80 years.”

He looks over his shoulder up at the IV that’s still slowly administering fluids and the antidote into his system. “I can bring the IV stand with us and you can nap on the way. It’ll be great.”

You laugh at the goofy grin plastered across his mouth. “Good luck with that.”

If possible, his grin widens even further. “I don’t need luck. All I need is my Victory.”

-

The End

#steve rogers x reader #pre serum steve x reader #40s steve x reader #captain america x reader

[zestyemby]

Monsters in the Shadows - Avengers X Reader - Prequel Chapter

Pre-story Note: This is MCU Avengers based, alternate timeline so events are obviously going to be a bit different, but I’ll try and stay as close to canon as possible. As of right now, I don’t know who the pairing will be. Past Reader was obviously with Bucky and may be again, later, or she could be paired with someone else. Feel free to comment who you think she should end up with. This chapter is also a prequel of sorts, and once Reader’s powers are activated, her fingers a kinda stained an inky black, like, permanently.

Warnings: Loss, Trauma, Language (don’t think there is much, if any, in this chapter though)

Other Info: Y/N – Your Name & Y/L/N – Your Last Name

______

           Ten years ago, she had been normal. Fifteen years ago, she had friends and was about to go to college. Her whole life was ahead of her and there was not anything standing in the way of it. They, her friends, had planned a trip to Washington D.C. to visit the Smithsonian before they all went their separate ways. It was something they had always wanted to do but could not until they graduated, a rule their parents had come up with. It was not even that they were interested I the history of it. More like, one of the had a weird obsession with Captain America.

           So here they were, entering the museum with a crowd of people hoping to see the same exhibits. While her friends talked, she looked silently at the exhibit, taking it every bit of information, she could. It seemed familiar to her somehow. When they reached the section on Bucky and Steve, a switch flipped in her mind. She was flooded with memories, not of her life now, but of a life sixty years ago. A life that she had lived. A life that she had spent, loving a man that died at war. The same man that was Captain America’s best friend, James Buchanan Barnes.

           “Hey doll,” a voice called, “are you ready to go?”

           “Just a second,” she replied. She looked herself over in the mirror one last time before running towards the door. “Ready!”

           “Steve is coming with us tonight.” The man held a hand out to her, “Hope you don’t mind.”

           “Not at all. It’ll be fun.” She took his hand with a smile on her face and giggled as he twirled her around.

           “I’m going to miss that sound.”

           “You make it sound like you won’t be coming home.”

           “You never know...”

           “Bucky, you have to promise me you’ll come home.”

           The memory caused her to stumble back, holding her head. “W-what?” She looked around but she could not tell what was a memory or reality. It all seemed to blend together. When she heard a knock, she started to panic. There was not a door nearby, but it sounded so close. “I can’t….”

           The knock came again, signaling her that whoever was at the door was not going to leave until she answered. She set the rolling pin aside and wiped her hands on her apron. Upon reaching the door, and opening it, she saw that it was Steve, only, he was bigger. “Steve? What happened to you? Why are you here?”

           “It’s Bucky,” Steve began.

           “What happened?” She saw the broken look in his eyes and took a step back, shaking her head. “Don’t you dare…”

           “I’m sorry…”

           “Please...”

           The moment he saw her begin to shake, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. Her knees gave out then, and if he had not hugged her, she would have collapsed. It was the muffled screams into his coat that caused him to tear up. He held her as she cried, but he did not try to console her beyond that. There was not anything he could say that would ease what she was going through.

           Upon coming out of the memory, she began hyperventilating. The heartbreak she felt, it was as real as if it had just happened. By this point, her friends had noticed something was wrong and were immediately at her side. “I... I can’t breathe...”

           “Let’s get her outside,” one of her friends had said as she wrapped an arm around her waist. “Janet, help me!”

           “Right, sorry,” Janet said, tearing herself away from looking at the picture of Steve Rogers. She took over on Y/N’s other side, and the three girls started heading outside. “What happened?”

           “I don’t know. She was looking at the exhibit about Bucky and then this happened.”

           “Maybe we should get her back to the hotel?”

           “Or she needs medical attention?”

           “Michelle,” Janet looked shocked, “We’ll have to end the trip early if she goes to the hospital.”

           “Fine, we’ll take her back to the room. But if she does not calm down soon, we’ll have to take her to the hospital.”

           “Deal.” Janet released Y/N and went to hail a cab. After several attempts, one pulled up to the curb and the girls loaded Y/N up then climbed in.

          Several minutes later, it did not seem like Y/N was doing any better. In fact, it seemed like she had passed out. There were tears still streaming down her face, but her breathing had returned to normal.

          “Should we call her mom,” Michelle asked, concerned.

          Janet pursed her lips, unsure of what to do. Just as she was about to say something, Y/N’s eyes snapped open. The only problem, they were pitch black. “Uhm, Y/N? Are you okay?” The response she received was a high-pitched scream that caused the driver to swerve into another vehicle. This resulted in several vehicles crashing into one another, an eventually lead to a pileup.

          They thought it stopped there, along with Y/N’s screaming. But it did not. What happened next would cost D.C. half a city block and resulted in what would be nearly two hundred missing persons. A burst of darkness came from Y/N and swallowed everything within three hundred feet. As it faded away, the only thing left was Y/N, breathing heavily, and reaching out with blackened fingers.

          Elsewhere, every available news source was covering the story of how a portion of D.C. disappeared in a black hole. Nick Fury entered the office, furious. “Someone tell me what the hell is going on! What just happened?”

          “We don’t know sir,” Maria said as she hovered over one of the techs. “All we know is that there is one survivor.”

          Nick looked up at the screen, seeing Y/N on the ground, clearly disoriented. He watched as paramedics rushed to her. “What hospital is she at?”

          “It looks like,” Maria took over for the tech, “George Washington University Hospital.”

          “Let’s go. I want to talk to her.”

          “Sir?”

          “I’m willing to bet that teenager knows what happened. Might even be the one responsible.” He did not wait for a response before turning and walking out of the room. Maria followed quickly after. Within an hour, they were walking into Y/N’s hospital room, and he was taking a seat by her bed, while Maria stood by the door. “Y/N Y/L/N?”

          Y/N had been staring at the ceiling since she had been brought in. Everything that was said to her went in one ear and out the other. When she heard someone say her name, she turned her head slowly to look at them. “Are you here to ask questions too? I already told them I do not know what happened. The last thing I remember was being at the Captain America Exhibit.”

          “No,” Nick said, “What part of the exhibit were you looking at?”

          She turned back to look at the ceiling. “James “Bucky” Barnes. I looked at it, and when I saw his face, I remembered things.”

          “What things?”

          “It wasn’t my life, but it was. It felt so real.” She lifted her hand and looked at it, turning it over a few times. “The warmth of his hand. The feeling of my heart breaking when Steve said he was dead.” Putting her hand down, she turned back to the man. “Who are you?”

          “My name is Nick Fury and I work for SHIELD.”

          “What’s that?”

          “The reason we are here.”

          “I don’t understand.”

          “You are a peculiar individual Y/N, and we want to help you.”

          “You think I did it, don’t you?”

          “I’m not saying you did but your hands,” he gestured to her blackened fingers, “say you were at least involved.”

          “By helping, do you mean lock me up?”

          “Is that what you want?”

          “No.”

          “Then no, unless you give us a reason.”

          “Okay.” There was not a reason to deny the help he offered her. Everyone else that had been in her room had already decided she was guilty. It was the way they asked their questions. The way that they looked at her. They did not treat her like a survivor. “Can you make me disappear too?”

          “Sir,” Maria turned to Nick after seeing a doctor coming.

          “What is it,” Nick asked.

          “The doctor is on his way. He isn’t alone.”

          “Who is with him?”

          “Looks like police.”

          “Tell them we’re taking her off their hands.” When Maria nodded in response and left the room, he turned back to Y/N. “Welcome to SHIELD Y/N.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #captain america #captain america x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x female reader #steve x reader #steve x y/n #steve x female reader #The Avengers #Avengers #avengers imagine #reader insert #fanfic #sam wilson #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x y/n #tony stank #tony stark #tony stark x reader #iron man #the falcon x reader #the falcon x y/n #natasha romanoff