#I want whoever you are to somehow enter my day with all the mysterious privacies and tender joints and ankles bones

[firstfullmoon]

Steve Scafidi, from “Ode to And”

#I want whoever you are to somehow enter my day with all the mysterious privacies and tender joints and ankles bones #and the lovely grace of that place behind your knees !!!!!!! #the mikko harvey for m and shauna barbosa gps of it all #w #poetry #steve scafidi #the earth was made for lovers

[prairiesongserial]

3.9

“Welcome back, monsieur,” Ombre said - and, for a moment, looked genuinely surprised to see him. She hid it well, but not quickly enough. It occurred to Cody that she probably hadn’t expected him to come back, even though John was still being held somewhere within La Salle Rouge. Cody wondered just how many return visitors La Salle got.

Ombre hustled him towards the red door near the entrance, and Cody obligingly followed her, prepared this time to be washed and dressed. He scanned the pile of guests’ clothes and personal items for Pem’s backpack and outfit, and found them easily, but stayed straight-faced. Pem had entered La Salle roughly an hour ago, to borrow money and begin playing at some of the tables. He and Cody had agreed that it was better to stagger their entrance times, to keep the staff of La Salle from catching on that they knew each other. They could make the Mia con work for as long as possible if they could pass themselves off as lucky strangers who just happened to sit down at the same table.

“I don’t have a gun,” Cody said, watching Ombre reach for one of the numbered baskets stacked near the wall. He held his arms out, to show her that the holster at his hip was empty. “Thought I’d save you the trouble, this time. You can pat me down if you don’t believe me.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Ombre offered him a thin-lipped smile, and moved towards one of the room’s hidden doors. It seemed that Cody was already wearing out his welcome, here. Good. He preferred this to the veneer of hospitality.

“Here,” he said, fishing his five pieces of silver out of his pocket. “You can exchange these for chips, right?”

“Certainly,” Ombre said, strained. She stepped through the hidden door she’d opened, apparently eager to leave. 

“Piquet,” she snapped, as she vanished out of sight. “Find our guest a suit.”

Piquet appeared in a matter of moments through a different hidden door. She looked just as Cody remembered her, dressed in the same black dress she’d worn the previous night, black hair cropped close to her head. Her skin was dark, maybe only a few shades lighter than Cody’s - he wondered idly if she was also Mexican - and there was a small scar under her left eye that creased slightly when she smiled. She was pretty. All the girls at La Salle were pretty - some bona fide stunners, even - but Cody didn’t trust any of them as far as he could throw them.

“Je suis - oh. It’s you,” Piquet said, hiding her surprise less deftly than Ombre had.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Cody agreed. He’d already started to strip down to his underwear, familiar enough with the routine that he hadn’t given Piquet time to ask. “I assume you didn’t save my measurements anywhere.”

“That’s not the sort of thing we keep on file,” Piquet said. Her measuring tape had appeared in her hands, and she stepped closer to Cody, to hold it along his chest, then his hips.

“Bummer,” Cody said, half-smiling at Piquet. The copper measuring tape was cold against his skin, and he noted - as he had the first time - how careful Piquet was not to touch him directly with her hands unless she absolutely had to. Either it was a touch aversion, or she’d been instructed not to get too close to La Salle’s guests. Maybe both.

“Are you here to find your friend?” Piquet asked, holding the tape vertically, to get his height. She still gave off a certain air of professionalism, though she was being less polite, now. More conversational. “I heard he was caught cheating. He’ll be put under an indenture, most likely.”

Her tone was conversational, but hushed, and a little harried, like she was worried they’d be walked in on. It occurred to Cody that not all of La Salle’s employees were as insidious as Ombre. Even Quadrille had been sort of helpful to him, his first time inside. Most of the girls were probably indentured to La Salle, too, now that he thought about it. And the dealers at the tables. But they were all working their indenture off here, instead of in the mines - likely because of their good looks. That set Cody’s teeth on edge. Whoever ran La Salle Rouge, he was sure that he hated them now.

“Do people get caught cheating here a lot?” Cody asked, taking a very roundabout path towards the thing he was really curious about.

“Well,” Piquet said, with a nervous laugh. “It depends.”

Wasn’t that a mysterious answer? Cody opened his mouth to ask something else, but Piquet had already vanished into the racks of clothes, searching for a tuxedo that matched his measurements.

“What if I’d prefer a dress instead?” he asked, to get her attention. She peered around a rack at him, blinking owlishly.

“Would you? I can look.”

“Not right now, but I like to keep my options open,” he said, with a wink at her as she disappeared again. “I doubt I’d look as good as you in one, anyway.”

“Monsieur is too kind,” Piquet said, loudly enough that Cody could hear her wry tone from across the room. “Wash your face, why don’t you?”

“Sure,” Cody said, stepping over to the washbasin and wetting his hands, rubbing them over his face to wipe off some of the grime. Practicing Mia outside with Pem most of the day had left him with a sunburn and a fine coating of dust, and he was actually grateful for the opportunity to wash up, even if the perfumed water was needlessly frivolous.

“You should do something with your hair,” Piquet told him, returning with a tuxedo for him to try on. “It looked nice slicked back.”

“I like it the way it is,” Cody told her. She looked away - ostensibly to let him have a little privacy while he changed, but he could see just the barest roll of her eyes as she did so, and laughed.

“Hey, Piquet,” he said, buttoning up his shirt. “Will you tie my bow tie for me? I just never got the hang of it.”

“Mais oui, monsieur,” she said, still wry, and stepped close to him, taking the two ends of the bow tie in her fingers and deftly beginning to tie them.

“Are you an indenture?” Cody asked quietly, as soon as Piquet was close enough to hear. “You don’t have to - just nod, if you are.”

Piquet’s eyebrows furrowed, and she was still for a moment, before nodding almost imperceptibly. Her eyes were still lowered, focused on his bow tie.

“Did you get caught cheating?” Cody asked, just to be sure.

She nodded again, the movement even smaller than the last.

Cody swallowed, his mouth feeling dry. “Do you know where John is?”

Piquet shook her head, once, just barely moving it from side to side. She’d finished tying the bow tie, and stepped away from Cody, plastering a patently fake smile onto her face.

“I’m sorry that took so long, monsieur,” she said, leveling her gaze with Cody’s. It was clear enough that her apology was for something else entirely. “Let me see if I can’t at least find you a tie for your hair.”

Cody glanced at himself in the mirror as Piquet did so, buttoning his tuxedo jacket and tugging on his clothes to straighten them out. They fit well. Whatever Piquet had done in her past life, she was just as adept at measuring people, and fitting them for clothes. Presumably she’d been trained by someone else at La Salle, or they’d given her a job to suit her talents.

Cody wondered where John was. Presumably somewhere inside La Salle Rouge, unless they’d moved him to the mines somehow. It seemed likely that the person (or people) who ran La Salle were either holding him to give Cody something to gamble for, or still trying to decide what to do with him. John was good-looking and silent enough to be one of the dealers, but strong, and a good worker - a good fit for the mines.

“Piquet -” he began, about to ask another question, before one of the room’s hidden doors opened and Ombre stepped back inside.

“My, the two of you have been taking quite a while,” she said, her voice almost cloyingly sweet. Her eyes were sharp, and focused on Piquet, who had re-appeared with a hair tie for Cody, and looked about ready to shrink back into the rows of clothes and costumes. “Piquet, let’s not keep monsieur from the tables any longer than we have to, hmm?”

“Sorry, my fault. I probably shouldn’t have been chatting her up,” Cody said, easily taking the blame. He didn’t want to think about what might happen if Piquet got in trouble for passing him information, or even just talking to him more than she should have. “I guess I’m kind of on edge, seeing as you accused my friend of cheating and kidnapped him.”

Ombre’s smile soured instantly.

“Yes, well, do hurry up,” she said, stepping back towards the door, but lingering in it, keeping a close eye on Piquet and Cody.

“Here you are, monsieur,” Piquet said, pressing the hair tie into Cody’s hand. Like Ombre, she was no longer smiling - she looked a little worried, actually.

“Thanks,” Cody said, returning to the mirror to tie his hair back in a small ponytail at the nape of his neck. He glanced over his shoulder at Piquet, flashing her a grin. “And thanks for the bow tie help.

Piquet managed a strained sort of half-smile, staying where she was near the clothes racks.

“You ought to go and gamble before the tables fill up, monsieur,” she said, politely. The wry edge to her voice was still there, but deeply buried.

“You know what, I think I will,” Cody said, giving her a wink before turning to Ombre. holding his hand out. “You get those chips for me?”

“Mais oui, monsieur,” Ombre said, through her teeth. She showed Cody the five black chips in her hand, counting them out into his palm. “Five pieces of New Mexico silver.”

“Great,” Cody said, closing his hand around the chips and stepping up next to Ombre, so she could lead him back into the main hall. Time to gamble.

3.8 || 3.10 

#story

[thealfanator]

Dandelion’s Tales, Part 2 ~Chapter 5

I tossed and turned, sweat drenching my whole body.  No spot dry. I didn’t sleep.  I couldn’t sleep.  Someone knew about my trespass in the medical basement.  Someone knew I was looking for Dune.  Someone knew what I was doing, and I didn’t know who.  Who could it be?  Tugna?  No, he wouldn’t send a note – just a punch in the face.  Cebri?  Again, no. She would confront me about it. It had to be someone who wanted to be subtle.  Possibly someone who didn’t want to report me straight away but instead wanted leverage for something.  Who knows? I had to keep my cool, and right now I was doing a pretty poor job.

             I woke.  Well, I don’t suppose I was ever asleep to call it ‘waking up’, but I got out of bed and strolled to the window.  It was almost dawn.  A good few hours had passed since I returned from the forbidden area, yet I hadn’t slept a wink.  I stared down from my upstairs privacy.  Tugna had returned to the door.  I’m certain his moving lips sounded curse words behind Hunter’s back.  Something like, “That fucking piece of… He tricked me.” I’m not sure; that’s what I would’ve thought he’d say.  I smirked slightly.  Yeah, that’s right; you didn’t stop me this time!

I did hear a slight creak from behind me.  First, it breezed past my mind.  Then I realised my door was unlocked.  Anything could be breathing down my neck.  I sharply turned, swearing to myself.  Nothing.  I swore I heard something…  Turning my head back to the window, Tugna lie unconscious on the muddy ground.  I swore louder this time.  Replaced on the vacant grassy plain was a hooded woman.  Her hair bled a mysterious white hue, and she walked sternly away from Tugna’s limp body further down the street.  I peered round with her, trying to catch a last glimpse before she walked out of my view.  Black suit, covering most – if not all – of her body.  She wore veins of green patterns on her sleeves.  A sorceress?  That was it, she was gone.  I tried with effort to peek further, but it was futile.  I just ended up with a freezing cheekbone as I pushed it harder and harder against the window.  Nobody except for me saw what had happened.  All buildings had their curtains drawn, and Tugna still sat there, his unconscious body snoring on the ground somehow.  Do I run out there and help?  No, not today.  He’d done enough to grow a tumour of hatred inside me; I wasn’t helping him.  He’ll stay there in the merciless cold.  I walked back to my bed and pondered over what I had just seen… Strange things weighed more than the normal things. More questions grew exponentially, and even more secrets covered them from the curious askers.  I shut my eyes and prayed for sleep, though I’m delighted to report than none came.

The next day, my dead, drooling corpse rose, and slid into the streets.  I was tired, but I managed to keep my eyes open.  Barely.  As I stumbled through thin crowds, I started to feel the effects of my actions weighing down on me.  When I grabbed that poor woman, I set an impression in other’s minds.  Instead of a welcoming smile (which was scarce anyway), I was now avoided, as if everybody in the town contributed to making an empty bubble around me.  I was greeted not with passivity, but with angry glares.  Not with slow, gentle walks, but with swift pacing; like a repelling magnet.

             “Dandelion!” shouted Cebri in an overjoyed voice, startling me from my sleepy trance.  I smiled and walked over.  I was surprised to see her happy to see me considering yesterday’s argument, but I went along with it.  She could just be an incredibly good actor…

“Good morning, Cebri. How are you today?”

“I’m fine, thank you.” She paused and studied my face, “My God, Dandelion you look terrible!  Did you not sleep?”  I gently pushed her approaching, weak hand away.

“I’m fine honestly, just didn’t sleep.”  She agreed.

“Yeah, I can tell! Like you got up and went sleepwalking in the middle of the night!” Oh, Cebri, if only you knew… Actually, if you knew, we probably wouldn’t be having this conversation.

“I’m just…” Careful, Dandelion; your wording here is important.  “…slightly under the weather.  You know, security seems a little unusual.  Tugna’s got it in for me, I swear.” I chuckled slightly, meeting her gaze.  “And not being able to see Dune is a little overwhelming, you know?”  Her eyes seemed so sympathetic.  Too sympathetic.

“Don’t you worry.  I told you, he is resting in the medical ward. We are restraining anyone from seeing him purely because he’s in critical condition.  Whoever made that wound got him good.” I bit my tongue.

“Where’s Hunter?” I asked in a peculiar tone amidst the footsteps on the mud around us in the middle of the morning breeze.

“Never mind him, I have something to show you.” She ushered me to follow.

             I ended up in her room.  The same room we had argued before.  It was strange seeing her like this.  I’d definitely thought she’d still be angry with me.  It all seemed a little bit too theatrical, like an act waiting to turn sour.

“I got you a little gift.” Oh my… What emerged from under her desk lie a beautiful instrument in her palms.  A lute.  It looked brand new, but with a thick blanket of dust over it, like an old human being reborn a baby.  It looked magnificent.  Patterns and strange marks layered the precious wood.  “I don’t know if I should be giving this to you, but you seem to know your way around an instrument, I hope.”

“Thank you.” I replied softly, eyes glued to the precious nooks and designs of the equipment.  “How did you know?”

“About what?”

“That fact that I liked to play music?”  She paused for a second.

“I have my ways.” She slowly looked me up and down, observing my… florescent clothes.  She laughed when my eyes met hers.  I decided not to say anything.

             I left the building with my new instrument; at least this would give me something to occupy myself with.  Or was this some way to create a false sense of security?  Was Cebri just trying to create leverage?

             I didn’t have enough time to think about it.  All of a sudden, I had felt small yet strong arms clutch around my neck and pull me into a thin, dark close between two houses. Private and dimly lit.  I swore to myself, trying to focus on my supposed attacker.  A small, short figure.  A child? She pressed her palm to my face and forced me to the dirty floor.  I tried to call out but she bust her elbow into my throat.

“What the fuck… who…?” I squealed through a throbbing neck and enormous headache.  The little girl crouched to my level.  My view gradually was no longer impaired, and I saw her face. Funny, it was the same girl who would enter my bed chambers to change my sheets.  The same girl who would clean my clothes, and make sure everything was in order. The little girl with long dark hair and tired, yet beautiful blue eyes.  I saw this little girl often, yet I failed to know a name…

“What were you doing?” She said sternly.

“What are you talking about?” I replied, slightly choked.

“I know what you did. What were you doing in places you didn’t belong?”  I adjusted my position on the cold, hard ground and pressed against the upcoming bruise on my cheek with the palm of my hand.  “Where?!”

“So you were the one who left the note.”

“You are testing my patience.”

“I have to find…”

“Dune?  Yes, I know.”  Are you kidding me?  This girl managed to pull me into a place where no eyes wandered, beat me up then provoke answers she already knew?  This is absolutely ridiculous!

“Why ask if you already know?” I stared with innocent eyes at her.

“Listen, don’t – I mean don’t, do it again.  Trust me on this, this village is not as safe as they say it is.”

“Ok,” I started, closing my eyes briefly, headache pounding, “but what is your name?”

             She was gone.  Nowhere to be seen.  I didn’t even hear her footsteps.

*

“This is a song my… one and only person I pretty much think about made.” I sat on the counter to the tavern with my lute, strumming the strings gently.  Around me, during the dusky part of the day, sat my audience. Some were drunk, some were not. Nevertheless, I was quite nervous. A silent void had struck; a void for me to fill.  “I think it’s called The Wolven Storm…” I cleared my throat.

             “These scars long have yearned for your tender caress

To bind our fortunes, damn what the stars own

Rend my heart open, then your love profess

A winding, weaving fate to which we both atone…”

               “…You flee my dream come the morning

Your scent - berries tart, lilac sweet

To dream of raven locks entwisted, stormy

Of violet eyes, glistening as you weep.”

My ears almost burst as my audience flared in applause.  I smiled. That’s actually the first time I pulled off that song perfectly.  Thanks, Priscilla.  Hunter approached.

“That was really good, mate. Well done.” He thumped my back strongly.

“Thank you.”

“Listen, I have something I want to show you.  Meet me tomorrow afternoon.  Trust me, I think I have important information about Dune.  I need your help.”  As he said these words, he progressed in a more and more hushed voice. Something tells me we are going to do something quite dangerous.  And if what that little girl say is true, I should be worried for my safety.  This place isn’t what it seems.  Everything has its secrets.  My heart sank slightly, but I swiftly dismissed the thought as I was swallowed by the crowds of people leaping my way.

 ---

Hi again!  Is it just me or does the week go too quickly?  I have the feeling not many people agree with me on that one... Well, anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter!  Just a heads-up, the season will have 7 chapters (I know that because I’ve almost finished writing it!) and I’m excited for you to get to it because it’s probably the most intense finale I’ve written thus far!

Have a good week :)

#dandelion's #tales #part #2 #two #chapter #5 #five #geralt #of #rivia #written #fanfiction #dandelion #witcher #literature #fantasy #adventure

[breakfastatwonhos]

HP!au fic rec

a/n: these are most likely gonna be updated when we find more fics

A Little? A Lot. by vtaetaem

Min Yoongi and Kim Taehyung are caught breaking some rules they shouldn’t be and their solution isn’t exactly...the best.

OR

The fic in which Kim Taehyung, the current king of Wizarding Korea, finds himself in a rather sticky situation that leaves him enjoying the smile of a certain Slytherin a little too much.

95z And the Horrifically Attractive Hufflepuff Head Boy by sheepishfiction

Taehyung is an unregistered Animagus and Jimin is not that bad at Charms. Jungkook spends an excessive amount of time in the first stall of the second floor boy’s toilet. But none of these things matter, because holy shit, Kim Seokjin.

the curious case of the wolf in the nighttime by gacrux

Jeongguk doesn't know Taehyung, but he's about to. (AKA the HP AU that got away from me).

Boys With Magic Series by Yoongied586

description to be made...

Bet you didn’t know by quartzspirit

Taehyung is a ho for bacon and doesn't notice that something is off. Jungkook reacts too slow. Money is exchanged, pictures are taken and Min Yoongi laughs enough for one year. An ordinary day at Hogwarts, Jungkook thinks.

Spells of Seven Series by SilverAndGreen

Seven students of Hogwarts meet each other through a mystery that takes place in the castle, after which they become best friends. Life seems to continue on as normal, but they don't know that one carries a secret with him; a secret that eventually leads them into something grave outside the walls of their beloved school.

time follows you (and fades) by thebestofme

hp!au - how half-veela!jimin and yoongi fall in love in the Slytherin common room.

(or, two sides of one story: Jimin worries about the effects of his Allure and hides his veela nature; Yoongi loves Jiminie but is too confused by mixed signals to act on it).

Mandrake by sleepychoi

Alternatively titled: Heart's True Intentions

Yoongi and Seokjin, like most of the older couples at Hogwarts, had learned to find little secluded spots to call their own despite the crowded school. Yoongi was also pretty sure that being friends with people like Taehyung and Hoseok made it extra hard for them to find privacy.

Luckily, they had claimed a little corner of one of the greenhouses as their own. They bloomed there just like the flowers did.

Amortentia by Tosun

Jimin didn't think his love potion would actually work.

say the magic words series by heytaetae

description to be written

Shift Spectrum by mintyyoongiJPEG & yoonminaufest

“He keeps screwing up the potion, I can’t work when I have to babysit him constantly to make sure he’s not gonna blow us up!”

“Can you two just– you know what. Yoongi, go switch with Taehyung. You and Jimin are partners for the rest of the year.”

The silence that fell over the classroom could best be described as stunned. All motion in the room stopped as Yoongi felt the tips of his ears heat up and there was that tingle in his scalp again.

All I Want (Is To Get a Little Bit Closer To You) by Lunabunni

The first time Taehyung set his eyes on Jungkook during his second year at Hogwarts, he knew there was something different about him.

night follows you (as it flows) by thebestofme

hp!au - somehow, jeongguk finds himself raising a baby dragon with taehyung. amidst rumors of being the death eaters’ son sorted into the wrong house, he finds hope.

You Smell Like Home by officialkth

Taehyung shows up to class late on the day they're brewing Amortentia, and wonders aloud why everyone is wearing Jeongguk's cologne.

" “My god, Jeongguk, did you lend your cologne to everyone or did you take a shower in it this morning?” Taehyung looks around the room, failing to notice everyone staring at him with open mouths, and takes another deep breath. “Bloody hell, it’s coming from everywhere.”

“Um…We’re brewing Amortentia today, Tae.” "

Blood, Sweat, and Magic by elibanana

This was not how his sixth year was supposed to end. Yoongi was supposed to walk through those double doors to the Great Hall, step up to Seokjin and confess. He was supposed to grab Seokjin’s hand, in front of Namjoon and Byulyi and all the Gryffindors, in front of Seunghoon and Jimin and all the Slytherins, in front of the whole school and profess his feelings. He was supposed to tip his head up, lean in and wait for Seokjin to close the few centimeters of space between them, because he would, of course he would, Yoongi was sure of it. He was supposed to end this year with a boyfriend in the form of one Seokjin Kim, one of Hogwarts’ most talented students and future legendary auror. They were supposed to end up together.

alternatively: a bunch of unexpected turn of events happen to Yoongi in his sixth year in Hogwarts, and he's not sure if he can handle any of it.

rated T for Yoongi swearing a lot.

Bangtan and the Venom of Asmodeus by Honey0613

Seven Korean exchange students have come to Hogwarts. Some are friends ... some are enemies. They have battles and drama, learning how to fight and love. What they don't know is that one of them has a bit of a dark history ...

fantastic beast and where to find them by Throne

Fantastic Beasts with Taehyung as Newt and Yoongi as Tina. Hoseok as Jacob and Jimin as Queenie for comic relief.

Puppy Therapy by  gbyesummer (shouldshy)

Curled up next to the gutter is a brown dog, fur matted down from the rain, shivering with its eyes closed. It's managed to at least keep its head dry, tucked beneath the metal spout releasing water into the streets, but it looks cold and tired and something in Yoongi's chest clenches.

The dog barely reacts when he picks it up and strokes the dry, curly fur on his head, just lets out a little huff and a whine. It’s bigger than it looked from a distance, a poodle or some kind of poodle mixed breed, and he was correct in guessing it didn’t have a collar. If it were awake it might be able to sit on one of his arms and lean against his chest. As it is, weak and shaking, he has to carry it with both his arms. He tucks its body beneath his cloak—not a great solution with how soaked it is, but at least it’ll be protected from the wind—and hugs it to his chest.

Brewing Feelings 101 series by feels_train

bangtan hogwarts au featuring dumb boys getting dumber because of feelings.

There's Magic in All of Us (Yet You Enchant Me More Than Anyone) by sobi_baby

Whoever said Slytherins and Hufflepuffs couldn't be friends; Yoongi and Hoseok clearly never got the memo.

You're Stronger Than You Seem by Peque

There's a new program at Hogwarts to bring seven kids from South Korea to build stronger relations with Asia

Min Yoongi is one of the lucky few.

Animagus by notoverthatbityet

The bond formed between the seven young wizards while attending Mahoutokoro, their ancient magical school, is a powerful one, but things are more complicated in adulthood. The past has a way of catching up with you.

and one musn't tell lies by tteokie

Yoongi wants to fly so bad he's ready to break the rules for that. Jung Hoseok is the worst collateral damage possible. (Stop lying).

The Room of Unrequited Love by dyegu

When the new Hufflepuff prefect, Park Jimin, takes an undue interest in Slytherin fourth-year Jeon Jungkook, the younger boy starts wondering if any magic can compare to the uncomfortable bubbly feeling in his heart.

Of Quaffles, Bludgers, and Snitches by lost_things

The International Collegiate Quidditch Tournament is a pretty big deal, and becoming the team captain at Hogwarts is something of a coup but it wasn't something Hoseok expected.

His team?

A Slytherin Keeper with a nasty reputation and a powerful return.

Two Ravenclaw Chasers; one a Third Year hothead and the other his clumsy best friend.

A shy Gryffindor Beater who doesn't live up to the stereotype.

A Seventh Year Gryffindor Chaser who's been relegated to second string because of his Prefect duties.

An insomniac of a Hufflepuff Beater who has more than a knack.

And himself, one of the best Seekers since Harry Potter himself.

He's not quite sure what's going to happen, but he sure hopes for the best.

(Alternatively, Bangtan re-imagined as an inter-house Quidditch team. A story about a modern Hogwarts, their developing friendships and teamwork, and a lot of broom physics.

And Chair cat.)

petrificus totalus by stardots

Seokmin really likes Jaehyun and he also really needs better friends

Hexed (By Your Smile) by sevencts

Little did Jisoo know, he’d phased his way through more than one set of walls.

Audere est Facere by TheJuniorRoyals

Wonwoo was so excited to get his Hogwarts letter on his birthday, until he didn't. Insert Junhui, who will make Wonwoo feel less bad about being non-magic.

Felix Felicis & the Perks of Misconception by TheJuniorRoyals

Ravenclaw Lee Jihoon brews up a batch of Liquid Luck so he can confess to his long term crush, Gryffindor's Kim Mingyu.

live a little by symmetrophobic

a prompt fill for 7fics, asking for markson hp au with jackson as the quidditch captain and mark his much beloved forbidden fruit

Just Lay Back by soft_sweethearts

Baths are supposed to be relaxing. Too bad that word is not in Park Jinyoung's vocabulary.

The Sweets Issue by  Aredhel_Alcarin

You may think, as far as Hogwarts history goes, that Gryffindor VS Slytherin quidditch matches are the most intense and extreme ones.

And, well—it’s not that they aren’t intense and extreme. But the point is, despite all that, their matches have nothing to do against Ravenclaw VS Slytherin ones, at least since Park Jinyoung got to be Ravenclaw’s captain.

Late for Lunch by sleepychoi

Yugyeom’s hobby was catching golden snitches, but he managed to catch Bambam’s heart instead.

Soft As A Cloud, Gentle As A Spring Breeze by orphan_account

Im Jaebum is the infamous playboy at Hogwarts. As Gryffindor's Quidditch Captain, and Head Boy, he enters his sixth year with everybody who's anybody wanting to either kiss him or kill him.

It seems like it will be a rather boring year, until Jaebum runs off at the mouth about his sexual prowess and gets caught up in a bet with Park Jinyoung, Slytherin's head boy.

Now Jaebum has to seduce and take to bed anyone of Jinyoung's choice before the school year is up. And what will Jaebum do when he finds himself accidentally falling for his doe-eyed victim?

Choi Youngjae was nobody. He didn't have any friends, any family, any anything. He wasted away his life hidden inside of the library, studying 24/7, until suddenly his life was tipped upside down by a handsome boy with honey-gold hair and a smirk that made Youngjae's palms sweat.

What's going to happen with the two polar opposites? Will they fall for each other? Or will the truth come out and destroy everything?

Chocolate Frogs and Hazy Dreams by yonamjoon

Jinyoung is tired. He's tired of the two loud troublemakers behind him in Charms class. He's tired of his mother pestering him with owls every day about their Christmas plans.

But most of all, he's tired because his mind won't stop racing and ticking and moving. But wizards don't really focus on mental health do they? Not when they're supposed to be smart and cunning and wise. Not when their mind is supposed to be their greatest weapon.

So Jinyoung is tired. And Mark isn't helping.

I Want to Keep You By My Side by kiwiootori

Bambam has always known that she's a girl. Yugyeom has always believed her.

look at me for a sec (don't be too awkward) by  turbrolence (shortiest)

in which a bludger shatters jinyoung's shoulder and jaebum ends up volunteering to feed him breakfast.

when i was a young boy by chanyeolanda

Gryffindors and Slytherins Do Not get along, every one knows this. It's bit unfortunate for Jinyoung and Jaebum, childhood friends sorted into the two rival houses.

Jaebum might not handle it very well.

(Alternately: Jaebum makes overdramatic generalisations and probably writes angsty early teen poetry.)

The Line That Separates Us by  Tsubame_go

When Jinyoung turns eleven he can't wait to join his best friend Jaebum at Hogwarts. He isn't expecting something as trivial as being sorted into a different house to divide them.

too shy to become your sun by unfairtanktops

sometimes, mark thinks, it's just easier to stay quiet.

(or, the one where jackson is oblivious and everyone is magic)

Bad Behavior by itsonlytime

The year is 1995 and Jackson Wang's popular and well known by the whole Hogwarts, he knows that. Everybody knows that. Leader of his team and probably the best damn quidditch player, out of all four houses. He's just fucking good at it. It's his sixth year and the final exams before the holidays are coming up like a proper snow storm; still he needs to concentrate on having the best game, losing is not an option. Confidence, indeed, was one of his best traits. The thing is: no one expected the damage that a stubborn, rude Slytherin boy could to do him. Someone playing his head like a freaking Golden Snitch wasn't exactly a plan for perfecting his skills.

Quacks like a Slytherin by ichigotabetai

The whole pureblood vs mudblood thing ? It always simmers under the surface. Blood purity might be a thing that's not openly talked about but it's very much alive and well. Baekhyun being completely and wholly muggleborn has always been a target. Now in his sixth year, he gives as good as he gets, insults easily rolling off his tongue because you have to defend yourself even if you think it's stupid and a waste of time. He can now insult a Slytherin pureblood in his sleep, has engaged with verbal wars with almost half of them. It's sort of a thing a Gryffindor does.

But there are some Slytherins who think even engaging in verbal war is beneath them. Park Chanyeol is one of them. For someone so hung up on status and image, he sure has a nice smile which is unfair. Because otherwise, Chanyeol is everything he resents.

make me speechless by misteami

baekhyun was absolutely smitten.

Do Kyungsoo and the Mudblood Muddle by picaselle

Kyungsoo has enough problems as it is. The last thing he wants to do is get involved in a high profile DMLE case, especially when it involves spending time with Chanyeol.

The Best of Friends by oxygenlove

Kyungsoo is a muggleborn Slytherin. Jongin is his pureblood best friend.

Artificial Love Potion by shineebean

Potions class is all fun and games until Kyungsoo’s Amortentia forces him to face the truth.

Sweeter than Victory by Demedicis

It only takes a little bit of Kim Junmyeon, Gryffindor's star keeper, for Do Kyungsoo to lose his cool. Similarly, it only takes a little bit of firewhisky for the seeker to let go of his inhibitions.

Sugar Quill by whenineternal

Yixing is an enigma, a live paradox with his cute smiles and little hands and high voice and his sexy tongue and the provocative way he sucks on the candy and sways his hips when Yifan's looking. 

Muggle the Way (To Your Heart) by Changdeol

When among Muggles, do as the Muggles do. And Sehun is determined to, even if he has no idea what that actually entails.

We Need To Test These Suckers Out by indigomini

Kyungsoo works in the Department of Performance Enhancing Magic Research for the Ministry of Magic. He has to test a swimming enhancement spell today, but his test subject is distracting as hell.

lost (but not found) by junxouji

Sehun casts a love spell on the unsuspecting Ravenclaw but he does not expect it to backfire.

You Can Never Tame Me by yagakat

Chanyeol is a flaming idiot and the worst dragon tamer Kris has ever seen.

make up shake up break up by aprilboys

Jongin should've thought a lot more about who he said his fake boyfriend is when he rejected for the umpth time Chanyeol confessing his undying love for him in public, especially since his significant other is no other than his best friend Taemin.

Beware Of The Cat by naomi24

Jongdae is a vicious cat who only wants real food. Minseok likes to remind wizards that owls are the real You-Know-Who. Jongdae simply wants his first love back. And Yixing? Well, he’s just the protagonist.

Disapparitions by trashdemon

Luhan’s a washed-up accountant returning to London. Minseok is homeless. Two lonely people, with no destinations but too many memories, find each other on the Knight Bus.

*edited 8/18/17

#kpop fic recs #hp!au #bts fic rec #will be updated as we find more! #bts #seventeen #svt #pledis svt #seventeen fic fec #got7 #got7 fic rec #exo #exo ot12 #exo fic rec #bangtan sonyeondan #some have smut some do #admin sonnet

[imaginewithme]

Hello Neighbor : Part 2

- Y/N finally meets Newt after having lived next to him for months.-

A/N : they live in an all magical folk building

Word Count : 2000

Part 1

Surrounded by hot water and soap bubbles, you sank a little deeper in to the tub. This was supposed to be the most relaxing moment of your day but the anxiety kept building higher and higher. 

As silly as it may sound, you were worried about what kind of impression you left on Newt. You hoped that it wasn’t too awkward or embarrassing because you’d really like to get to know him. No one in the building seemed to know more than his name, sure there were rumors but they didn’t know if they were true or not. He intrigued you, there was something refreshing about the shroud of mystery that surrounded him.

You wanted to know the facts. Like what did he like to do for fun? Passions? Hobbies? You paused for a second before leaning your head over the edge of the tub and groaning. 

What were you doing? 

Were you interviewing the poor bloke for a dating game show? You were being absolutely ridiculous. You had just met him and you were already thinking about his “passions”. You ought to be thinking about how you were going to somehow get another chance to talk to him without seeming like you planned it out. 

You closed your eyes and let your mind come up with possible scenarios when a thought popped up into your mind. Did he actually go around the world and participate in illegal activities? You snorted a little, causing some bubbles to fly up in the air. Probably not. 

You cupped your hands together , isolating a cluster of bubbles in between. You didn’t expect someone as handsome as he was to invite you to chat over a cup of tea. It was kind of reassuring to have someone show interest in you even if it was only for friendship.

You wondered if you’d ever have another opportunity as perfect as that one again. Shaking your head to rid yourself of that thought, you exhaled. You were being absurd. It wasn’t like you lived right next to him or anything plus what if he was just being friendly? Offering your neighbor a cup of tea and a short chat was a normal thing to do. You were over analyzing and blowing what happened all out of proportions, not to mention getting your hopes up for something that could be nothing. 

Glancing down at your pruned fingers, you decided that you’ve soaked in the bath long enough when a loud crash emitted from inside of your flat. It was followed by a not so quiet shuffling about. 

Your heart began to race as you slowly emerged from the water. Did someone just break into your home? Trying to make as little sounds as you could, you exited the bath tub and hastily wrapped a towel around your body before grabbing your wand off of the sink. You mentally thanked yourself for being too lazy to set it on your dresser before heading to the bathroom. The noises seemed to have lessened a tad bit from the initial break in but you could still hear the floor boards creak from under the weight of whoever was there. The grip on your wand tightened to the point of your knuckles turning white. You’ve never had something like this happen to you before so you didn’t know if you were lucky or very unlucky but one thing was for sure, you were unprepared. You ran through all the defensive spells in your head as the footsteps entered your bedroom. You had your wand in your right hand as your left gripped on to the door handle. With the element of surprise on your side, you hoped that the plan in your head would work before they could even try to hit you with anything. Patiently waiting for them to walk past the door so their back would towards you when you opened it, you could hear the muffled whispering. 

Unfortunately you weren’t able to make out anything they were saying but by the tone they were saying it in, they sounded angry?

The moment they went past the door, you threw it open and stepped out. “Stupefy!” 

The figure flew forward towards the wall. The grip on your bath towel tightened as you cautiously inched closer to them. With your wand pointed directed at their head and your eyes locked on to them for any signs of movement however you failed to notice the creature flying towards you. 

A small mass of black fur leaped toward you from off to the side and the next thing you knew there were claws and angry squeaking in your face. (A/N : sorry I didn’t know what Niffler sounded like >.<) 

Completely caught off guard, the creature managed to scratch and you were pretty sure nip your face. In the confusion and panic of everything you had fell back on to the floor, your wand dropping out of your hand. As you tried your best to push it away from you, a little groaning could be heard from the burglar. Oh god, he was getting up already? Fear started to bubble up in your stomach, you had to do something or at least get out of this situation somehow. Giving the creature one final shove to the side somewhere, you noticed them already standing before scrambling to where your wand fall. 

The relief you felt the moment your fingers closed around the wood made you feel a huge lot better. You whipped around and returned to your defensive status before addressing the intruder. “What do you want and what are you doing in my flat!” They immediately raised their hands and stepped back to the wall. Before you could say any more, you noticed the familiar top of auburn hair and frowned. You guess the crook part of the rumor was true. “I’ll say it again, what are you doing in my flat, Mr. Scamander?” You narrowed your eyes at him, you were totally wrong about him.

“I-I have a very good explanation as to why I’m in your flat, Miss L/N. You see my-” You took your eyes off of him for a second to point your wand at the black haired creature that was angrily moving towards you. With a spell seconds away from leaving your lips, you found yourself immobilized by Newt. One of his hands wrapped around your wand hand while the other wrapped around your waist. He pulled your close to his body and forcibly lowered your wand. 

“Wha- Let me go!” You thrashed and kicked against his hold but couldn’t manage to free yourself from his hold. 

“Wait! Miss L/N-! I-” Newt struggled to keep you still and resorted to spinning you around to face him with his hands firmly placed on your shoulders. “Please allow me to explain! My niffler got out and by the time I noticed the little devil had somehow wedged himself into your flat. I knocked on your door, I promise that I did but you didn’t seem to have heard me. Worried about your personal belongings, I had leaped over from my balcony to yours to grab him before he got his hands on anything shiny. Nifflers, you see, are attracted to anything shiny like coins or jewelry but that’s besides the point right now. However I may have broken your sliding door but I will fix that. Please don’t hurt him, he was just trying to protect me.” Newt looked at you with pleading eyes. 

You looked at him with suspicious eyes before switching over to look over at the Niffler. If you didn’t see it pocket some spare change you had left on the floor in its pouch, you would have sworn Newt was out of his mind. By the look of it, Newt seemed to be telling the truth so you nodded. “Alright…” You lowered your wand in compliance. 

“Thank you.” Newt gave you a small smile, his memorizing seafoam green eyes boring themselves into yours. Just as fast as his smile had come it morphed into a frown and his hands rose up to cup your face. Caught off guard once again, you were going to ask him what exactly he was doing just when he ran his thumb over your cheek. Instant pain emerged causing you to hiss and pull away from his touch. “It looks like my Niffler managed to give you a few cuts.” You glared at the creature, it now rummaging through your jewelry box before making your way to the bathroom to see the damage. Checking yourself in the mirror, you frowned to see the new additions to your face and neck. Newt stepped into the bathroom behind you with a apologetic smile on his face. “May I help you with those? Its the least I could do after all the trouble I’ve caused you tonight.” 

“Ok.” You tried your best to not blush as you took a seat on the top of your toilet. When Newt stepped forward and cupped your face in his hands again, you couldn’t help but notice how soft they were. Closing your eyes to save yourself from having to look him in the eyes after thinking that, you let Newt fix you up. After a few minutes Newt cleared his throat notifying you that he was done. Upon opening your eyes, you had noticed that his face was a deep shade of red. You reached out to touch his cheek. “Are you feeling ok, Newt? You look ill.” Without even hesitating, you stood up to press your forehead to his to check his temperature. 

Newt stumbled back from your sudden action and tried his best to reassure you. “I’m ok. It’s just uh-” He pressed and averted his eyes from looking at you. “I’m sorry Miss L/N, I would like to speak to you properly but in your state of undressed I can’t bring myself to look at you at the moment.” 

“You can’t look at me right now?” Confused you questioned him. 

“You’re a very beautiful woman, Miss L/N! Please don’t misunderstand me, its just I feel like it would be very inappropriate to look at you whilst you’re in a bath towel!” While he spoke, Newt’s cheeks grew an even darker shade of red. 

“Oh!” Once his words sank in, you instantly readjusted the towel while your cheeks grew to match his. “I uh-” 

“I am going to go check on my niffler, please excuse me Miss L/N!” He cut you to it and rushed out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him to give you some privacy. 

Great. You clapped your hands over your face in embarrassment.

“This was not how I wanted to see her again. How could you do this to me? Causing her so much trouble!” When you came out of the bathroom, you caught Newt scolding his niffler as he fixing your sliding door. He had the troublesome creature tucked under his arm while he waved his wand around with the other. “What am I doing to do now?” 

You smiled and magicked your kettle to start two cups of tea for the both of you. Despite everything that happened, you weren’t mad Newt or his niffler. Now that the and panic and adeline had passed, you thought the whole situation was rather funny and endearing. Newt was only trying to make sure you weren’t getting robbed. 

“Have some tea with me?” Newt turned around at the sound of your voice, the poor creature under his arm struggling to break free. You smiled at him, hopeful. “Maybe after putting your niffler away that is.” 

The shocked expression on Newt’s face made you laugh a little. “Are you sure? I mean after all the trouble we’ve caused you tonight, I wasn’t too sure if you’d even want to see me again let alone have a cup of tea.” 

You smiled at his consideration. “How about you tell me more about your little niffler there as we walk back to your flat, I’ll even bring the tea? Preferably through my front door and not the balcony this time?”

- The End -

What did you guys think? Please let me know! I know it was believable xD  Please don’t be afraid to send me a message telling me what you thought ♥ 

Tags : @alina08 @petrify-your-soul @rass133 @jackdawsonsgrl

Forever Tags @a-little-bit-obsessed @shyestofhearts @iseethemonsters @gladerwitchfromdistrictgotham

#newt scamander #newt #newt artemis fido scamander #newt scamander x reader #newt scamander imagines #newt x reader #fantastic beasts and where to find them #fantastic beasts #fantastic beast #niffler #tina goldstein #Queenie Goldstein #jacob kowalski #percival graves #credence barebone #HP #hp imagine #Harry Potter #fanfic #fanfiction #My writing #original writing #writers on tumblr #imagines #fbawtft #fbawtft imagine #imaginewithme

[theweasleysredhair]

Help Me {Soulmate AU} [D.M.]

Character: Draco Malfoy Word Count: 1574 Requested?: Yes/No Summary: Soulmate AU where whatever Y/n writes on her skin also appears on her soulmate’s skin. Draco is determined to find the girl who is begging to be saved from herself. Other Parts: Part 1 Part 2 WARNINGS: Do not read if you are triggered by depressive thoughts. Disclaimer: Gif isn’t mine, credit to whoever made it

~*~

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK! REBLOGS ARE ABSOLUTELY FINE! <3

+ + + + +

Depression is a complex thing, meaning so much to one person, yet so little to another. To one, it’s a demon, reaching out and taking the joy from everything in the world, and replacing it with hopelessness and despair.

It isn’t always easy, to see who has depression. Sometimes, it’s the person you least expect. Sometimes, it can be the happiest-seeming person ever. But then one day, they may be in the middle of a laugh,

and they just stop.

Depression is a constant thing, and it rips apart everything you ever hold dear.

It stops you from caring, about anything, really. It consumes you, filling your head with thoughts that wouldn’t even dare to enter other people’s minds.

Depression is the slow, painful process of accepting life’s negatives, and being exhausted whilst waiting for death.

Because sometimes, suicidal people aren’t really wanting to die, but rather, they just want an escape from the horrors of day-to-day activities.

Depression is hard when you have no one to talk to, because no one seems to care. Hell, you don’t even seem to care. It’s made even harder when those around you frown upon anything in the mental health region.

It’s impossible to try and do anything, without second-guessing yourself about it, because that’s what depression does.

And maybe that’s the reason why, when you came across a strange group of dark, hooded figures in your third year, that though they tried, they couldn’t take away your happiness.

Because you had none left to give.

Life had chewed you up and spat you out. And you were done.

Because depression is like screaming in a room filled with people, yet none of them seem to hear or care.

It’s like drowning, but people are watching you struggle, enjoying your pain.

It’s like waiting for something dreadful, sitting around with a ball of angst circling your stomach, as you try to cling onto any last hopes you have.

Except, it’s all disappeared.

When you sat around, alone with your looking thoughts, all you had was parchment and a quill. It wasn’t enough to take your mind away from all the negativity - nothing was - but it helped. Marginally.

You had lost all hope for anything getting better, but you did cling onto the fact that maybe, possibly, there was somebody out there that could help you. That cared.

You had heard rumours, where a thing printed onto your skin, would appear on your soulmate’s. You didn’t know if it was true - nobody spoke of it directly to you. Nobody spoke of anything directly to you.

But it was the last thing you could do.

You picked up your quill, and printed two words.

Help me.

***

He hadn’t noticed at first, too caught up in trying to catch Potter doing something he shouldn’t.

He barely paid attention to the black ink that had mysteriously appeared on the back of his hand.

It was only when Crabbe pointed to his hand and asked what it was that he finally noticed two words etched into his skin.

Help me.

He stared at the words, his heart pounding, and breath getting caught in his throat.

Help me.

They appeared again, written carefully underneath the last. His mind clogged with situations where his soulmate would need to try and communicate with him like this.

Help me.

“I have to go,” he said, pulling the sleeve of his cloak to hide his hand as he walked out of the Slytherin common rooms.

Help me.

He glanced down at his hand, which was becoming filled with black ink, the same phrase written over and over.

Help me.

He had to find you. There was no doubt about it. You needed him. For once, he was going to try and help someone other than himself.

And that’s when he pulled out his own quill, and began to write.

***

You dropped the quill, your hand aching. If the rumours were true, your soulmate would see what you had written, and, with any luck, save you before it’s too late.

Gripping harshly on the table in front of you, your face contorted in pain; emotional pain.

You stared down at your ink-covered hand until your eyes began to blur.

That’s when you saw it.

The intricate handwriting printed on the back of your other hand, appearing like magic.

How can I help?

Your heart jolted. The soulmate rumours were true. And now… now you had someone who was willing to help you.

Slowly, as if you expected it to be a dream, you began to answer the question.

I need help saving me from myself.

***

“How many times do I have to tell you, you filthy little mudblood! Stay out of my way!” A voice ring through your ears as you clenched your hidden fists. “Just leave me alone, Malfoy,” you muttered, pushing past him.

You wanted to get to the library, where you could communicate with your soulmate in privacy.

“Wait a minute, come back here!” He said as you held a hand grabbing your cloak and yanking you back, “You seem to be in a hurry. Where are you heading to? You better not be contaminating everywhere with your dirty blood.”

“Why would I tell you?” You said quietly, removing your cloak from his grasp, and trying to turn away.

“Hey! I’m not done with you yet!”

“Well I’m done with you,” you said as you stalked off, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes.

You could just lay down and cry right now, a voice inside your head said, Nobody cares, not really.

Finally making it to the library, you took a seat hidden in the shadows, far away from the other people sat down studying, and took out your quill.

I can’t do it anymore.

Your reply was almost instantaneous.

Don’t say that, please don’t say that.

You gulped harshly.

I’m sorry, but nothing’s working. I’m not getting better, and I don’t think I ever will.

You will! I’ll help you. I always do, remember?

You remembered all the times where you sat alone, talking to this mysterious person, who always seemed to be able to make you feel even slightly better - at least temporarily.

I don’t think words will work this time.

The words were shaky, and you didn’t expect the reply as quick as you received it.

Then I’ll meet you someplace. That is, if you’re at Hogwarts school?

Your heart raced. Your soulmate wanted to meet you. You.

I am.

Then I’ll meet you in the Astronomy Tower at 7 tonight.

For the first time in as long as you could remember, you smiled.

I’ll be there.

***

You started having second thoughts when you walked up the steps to the tower. What were you thinking? This person was the only one to ever help you, and now you’re meeting - what if they decided they didn’t want to help anymore?

This person, though you hadn’t properly met yet, was, by far, the most important person in your life right now.

And, if you were completely honest, you didn’t know if you wanted to put a face to the writing.

It was nearly 7, and your heart was beating faster than it should have. Your nerves were at an all-time high.

You didn’t know why you agreed to this.

When you finally heard footsteps, you braced yourself, looking out of the window to look across the school grounds, and took a shaky breath.

The footsteps stopped, and you turned around.

“What are you doing here, Malfoy?” You said in shock, hoping, praying this wasn’t what you thought it was. You glanced over his shoulder to see if your real soulmate had somehow appeared yet instead.

“I’m meeting somebody, not that it concerns a mudblood like you. You should just leave, so I can wait alone.”

“Who are you meeting?” You asked, your heart plummeting down into the depths of your stomach. You had a terrible anxious feeling; you knew what was coming.

“I’m meeting my soulmate, if you must know,” Draco said with a smug tone, “Bet you haven’t found yours yet have you?”

You felt a pang of pain in your heart when you realised who you’d been talking to, “I’ve got to go.”

Rushing out of the room, you ran down the stairs and heading straight for your common room.

Draco Malfoy was your soulmate.

If that wasn’t enough the send you over the edge, you didn’t know what was.

***

Why didn’t you show up?

You glanced at your hand, your chest seeming to tighten.

You didn’t know how to reply, not now you knew your soulmate was Draco Malfoy, the boy who had been bullying you for the past couple of years or so.

Sighing, you picked up your quill.

I did.

You lay on your bed in your dorm, staring up at the ceiling and wishing it was someone else you were talking to.

Anyone else.

I didn’t see you there.

You did.

There wasn’t a reply for a while, though you kept checking. It was more of a habit now, than you actually wanting a reply. In fact, though you were attached to the person you had been talking to, now you knew it was Malfoy… things were different.

You couldn’t believe how much you had actually told him in the space of two weeks.

When you looked down at your hand again, you sighed.

Y/n?

#draco #draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy oneshot #draco malfoy x reader #hp #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fandom

[cuthian]

Never Feel Alone 

Chapter Two

BREAKING NEWS — Billionaire Tony Stark abruptly breaks off speech calling out the Mandarin after receiving mysterious phone call!

…anonymous sources confirm Harold “Happy” Hogan, Stark Industries’ head of security, has been admitted to the hospital after suffering third degree burns and internal organ damage likely sustained during the blast that struck the Chinese Theatre late last night. Hogan is also a well-known long-time personal friend of billionaire Tony Stark, and sources confirm that Mr. Stark arrived at the hospital not long after Hogan was admitted.

…reporters waited outside for Tony Stark to leave the hospital, hoping to gain a reaction from the billionaire on the latest Mandarin attack—and some reaction they were given! After an inflammatory question from one of the present reporters, Stark responded with strong, clear language before he was interrupted by a phone call.

“There’s a something I’ve been wanting to say to the Mandarin,” Stark said. “Didn’t know how to phrase it until now. My name is Tony Stark and I’m not afraid of you. I know you’re a coward, and so I’ve decided that you just died, pal. I’m going to come and get the bod—” At this point, Stark was interrupted by his own phone ringing with what we can only assume was a personalised ringtone.

The caller is, as of yet, unknown, as it what was said during the conversation, but given Stark’s sudden pallor and abrupt departure in his car, we can only assume that whoever it was did not bear good news.

…no reaction from the Mandarin to Tony Stark’s threatening message so far, but rest assured, we will keep you, the public and our diligent readers, apprised to any new information as it occurs!

C. Everhardt, “Tony Stark Calls Out the Mandarin”, Vanity Fair Online, September 16th, 2011

——————

Avengers Tower, Manhattan, New York City, New York, United States of America

September 30

th

, 2011 Tony

He shot bolt upright, nearly tumbling off his chair as he tried to shake the throes of his nightmare. His ears were filled with the thunderous rush of blood and, though it felt deafening, it was a welcome distraction after the all-encompassing silence in the crushing void of space in his nightmare. His breathing was clipped and too fast, but he had too much experience waking up like this to let it get too far.

That, sadly, didn’t mean it became any more pleasant to do it.

He silently counted his breaths, running his trembling hands through his messy hair as he regarded the artful chaos he had created on his workbench. The schematics he’d drawn up for an upgrade to Cap’s shield and Becca’s tac gear were scattered across the entire bench, along with several prototypes for both, and Tony had to admit he’d gotten remarkably far before sleep had forcibly taken him.

He glared at the can of Monster Energy and vowed to never buy that useless sugar swill again. It hadn’t helped him stave off sleep and the horrors it brought any more than a glazed donut would have.

Sleeping alone, without Pepper and Rhodey, who were busy being awesome at their respective jobs somewhere else, wasn’t a viable option. Tony shuddered to think of crawling into their big, empty bed with cold sheets and too much space and no warm bodies to remind him he wasn’t lost in space or in a fucking cave in Afghanistan.

He shook himself and idly reached for a screwdriver, patting DUM-E’s head as he rolled by. He glanced at the digital clock and shook himself. It was only 2:17 AM—plenty of time to get some more work done before he was allowed to call Pepper, Rhodey, or Brucie.

He smiled grimly at the neat row of Iron Man suits, all of which he had designed and produced in the two months that had passed since the Battle of New York.

He tapped the screwdriver against his lower lip and considered the latest version of the suit. He supposed he could just… alter the reactor’s connection to the thruster in his hand…

There was a phone ringing.

It took him a moment too long to realise that the sound was J.A.R.V.I.S.’s notification alert.

Why was there a notification alert when he was trying to work?

He emerged from the innards of his Iron Man suit with a frown and glared at the nearest speaker emitting the offending noise. “J.A.R.V.I.S.,” he exclaimed, wiping his hands on the closest rag—was that his AC/DC shirt?—and jumping from his spinning stool. “Just stop making that ungodly sound and tell me what’s up, yeah?”

“Of course, sir.”

Tony nodded, satisfied, and looked at the specs he’d drawn up for the new suit, preparing to dive right back in, because it was still only… oh, wow. 4:15 AM.  That went quickly.

Still. Four more hours until he was allowed to wake up Bruce.

Which was fine.

He wasn’t pouting.

He wasn’t.

He was supposed to pay attention to what J.A.R.V.I.S. was saying, wasn’t he?

Right.

“…hasn’t left his bedroom in 28.7 hours, except to relieve himself. He has accepted one nutritional shake from Dr. Banner, but he has further refused any other nourishment. Based on previously established baselines, the Captain only has about 48 hours before nutrition needs to be introduced into his system via enteral feeding, provided nothing changes in the interim.”

Tony rubbed his fingers over his temples tiredly as he turned his attention to J.A.R.V.I.S.’s report on Rogers’ day. He’d been in the Tower for nearly two weeks now and yet, while Tony had hoped in the first few days that it was helping Steve to be around the team, around people who cared about him, the man had backslid further and deeper into depression with every day that passed.

On day four, J.A.R.V.I.S. had woken them all up with a blaring alarm to alert them that Steve had somehow broken into the locked and sealed kitchen drawers and was looking for a knife sharp enough to do damage to a supersoldier. Natasha had gotten there quickly, thankfully, and wrestled Steve to the ground, away from any objects he could hurt himself with.

She’d later told Tony it had been much too easy to subdue the supersoldier, even for her.

He was getting sicker, frailer, each day, and Tony just… he just didn’t know what more to do than what he was already doing. Which obviously wasn’t enough.

Steve had spent an hour on the phone with Becca that day, mostly sobbing incoherently, from what Tony could tell. He’d called in Steve’s therapist himself an hour later, getting the harried woman an access pass to Steve’s floor to come and go whenever Steve needed her, and called Becca’s grandmother too, politely informing her of what was going on and offering her a room in the Tower, should she want to stay close to keep an eye on her wayward supersoldier.

She’d shown up for a few days, trying to get through to Steve every day, but even Becky Barnes couldn’t get Steve out of his downward spiral. She’d had to leave to tend to some business, but Tony had called her every day, sometimes twice a day, with updates like he’d promised.

“Okay,” Tony sighed, raking both hands through his hair. “Okay. When’s his therapist coming over again, J?”

“She is due to arrive at 8:30 AM, Sir,” J.A.R.V.I.S. replied instantly, and Lord, Tony loved his AI. J.A.R.V.I.S. had turned out to be amazing at keeping track of Steve, once Tony had altered his protocols to temporarily disregard Cap’s privacy—at least until he was slightly less… you know, suicidal. He kept an eye on Steve when Tony, Bruce, Nat, and Clint needed a break from Cap-sitting—and tracked the man where it really wasn’t appropriate for his teammates to do so—as well as keeping detailed reports on their Captain’s rapidly declining health.

Tony didn’t like to admit it, but he was… concerned.

Not even regular conversations with Becca and Aunt Becky—Capsicle’s favourite two people in the twenty-first century, as far as Tony had been able to discern—seemed to help Steve snap out of his funk.

He’d tried to hurt himself one more time after the incident with the knife, prevented only by Clint’s lightning fast reflexes, and it seemed like he was currently attempting starvation as a third, equally-unsuccessful—if Tony had anything to say about it—attempt.

“Sir,” J.A.R.V.I.S. interrupted his train of thought. “Captain Rogers has not left his bed in almost 20 consecutive hours. The specified limit before intervention was set on 17 hours with Captain Rogers’ therapist and Dr. Banner.”

Tony frowned up at the ceiling. He should really stop doing that—J.A.R.V.I.S. wasn’t in the ceiling, but the Capsicle, Natasha, and Clint were really fucking contagious with their bad habits, damn it. “Is Bruce going down to see him?” he asked, tapping a screwdriver against the metal bench nervously. He didn’t really need J.A.R.V.I.S. to answer that, because if Bruce had been with Steve, J.A.R.V.I.S. wouldn’t have alerted him at all.

“No, sir,” J.A.R.V.I.S. informed him regretfully. “It appears Dr. Banner is… unavailable at the moment. I have already taken the liberty of contacting Agents Romanoff and Barton, but none have responded yet.”

“Alright. Alright. Is he awake, J.A.R.V.I.S.?” Tony demanded tiredly, pushing back from his workshop table determinedly. They’d exhausted nearly all of their options when it came to keeping their supersoldier from hurting himself, and Tony was desperate enough to go up there to talk to him himself.

He didn’t think it’d help much, but hell—it’s not like he could make it worse.

“His breathing patterns and heartrate suggest he is conscious,” J.A.R.V.I.S. replied dryly. “Though I cannot confirm his state with 100% certainty, considering he has not moved in approximately 4.5 hours.”

“Eh,” Tony shrugged. “I’ll take it.”

He made his way to the elevator, deep in thought, vaguely considering if it was too early to call Becca through the secure video-chat channel he’d set up for her. Widow had revealed she was Becca’s S.H.I.E.L.D. handler the day she’d pried the gun from Steve’s hands, and had helped Tony set up the secure video-chat channel in a—pretty desperate—attempt to appease Becca and to keep her from abandoning her mission once she’d realised Steve wasn’t doing better.

Tony still wasn’t sure what the mission entailed, but he’d been there for Widow’s—incredibly tense—side of the conversation, and had been able to deduce that Rogers’ sense of justice and honour had to be contagious, because it had only taken Red Scare a few well-phrased arguments about public safety to get Becca to concede.

Well, a few well-placed arguments and a promise of a secure line to talk to Steve.

Tony had been happy to go behind S.H.I.E.L.D.’s back and provide said secure channel. He had issues with the way Fury ran things, and sending his Baby-Becs off on a classified undercover mission when she literally hadn’t even been discharged from the hospital yet had not sat well with him.

When the opportunity to keep an eye on her came up, he, admittedly, jumped at it.

She seemed to be doing alright, though, and while Tony still wasn’t happy—there was a suicidal super soldier living in his Tower—he did feel better about the whole thing.

“Sir?”

Tony did not jump. He absolutely did not, and he also did not look at the ceiling when he replied, “Yeah?”

“We’re here, sir.” Tony blinked at the elevator doors blankly for a long, drawn-out moment.

“Huh,” he said. He must’ve been more tired than he realised, because he was actually at Steve’s floor, the elevator doors opened to reveal the foyer Pepper had painstakingly designed for Steve—or had painstakingly paid someone to design. “Right.”

He cautiously stepped into the apartment, unsure of what to expect, even though he had seen the entire floor after renovations had been finished. Steve had been in here for two weeks, but according to J.A.R.V.I.S. and Bruce, he’d barely even left the bedroom, so Tony doubted he had made much of a mess—not that he would have cared that much to begin with, but still.

It was the principle of the matter.

He rubbed his hands together and rocked back and forth on his heels a couple of times. Since Steve had joined them at the Tower, J.A.R.V.I.S. had insisted on everyone reading a rudimentary file he had put together on how to deal with depression and suicidal tendencies as a loved one, and while all were relatively similar—listen, don’t diminish their feelings, don’t try to offer to solve it—Tony wasn’t really sure any of them would work for their soldier right now.

They’d tried all of that, and all it was doing was making Steve try again, and again, and again.

“Alright,” Tony clapped his hands together and bounced up and down a couple of times before he started for the bedrooms, “let’s do this.”

“Rogers!” he shouted as he pushed open the door to what had to be Rogers’ bedroom—it looked like the only occupied space in the entire damned apartment. “It has come to my attention that you are currently not doing anything but lie around and are thus just cluttering up the joint. And everyone needs to work for their keep.” He leaned against the doorjamb and eyed the Steve Rogers-shaped lump on the bed.

He noted a barely-there twitch roughly where he imaged Steve’s head was hidden beneath the blanket.

Excellent.

“So here’s what we’re gonna do, capisce?” he continued, grinning a little when the Steve-lump moved again. “You are going to get your serum-engineered ass out of that little blanket nest you’ve built yourself and get down to the kitchen pronto.”

The lump moved again.

“I know you’re listenin’, Rogers,” Tony cajoled, moving further into the room carefully, stepping over piles of dirty laundry, nose wrinkling a little at the ripe smell. “Jesus,” he groaned. “What are you, an animal? Come on, Capsicle, I know your mother raised you with better manners—Aunt Becky told me so herself.”

That got a reaction.

“You don’t know anything about my mother,” Steve grumbled from inside his pile of blankets, looking for all the world much more like a college student recovering from a bender than a 90-year-old supersoldier.

“Don’t I?” Tony smirked, raising an eyebrow when Rogers flailed a little in his cocoon.

“Fight me, Stark,” the supersoldier huffed, ceasing his losing battle with the blanket, settling instead for glaring at Tony balefully. Tony was briefly struck by how young the other man looked, blond hair sticking up every which way and eyes wide and just a touch bloodshot.

Christ.

He forgot this kid was only in his mid-twenties sometimes, time in the ice notwithstanding.

Thinking about what he had been doing in his twenties himself made Tony feel slightly baffled and confused—mostly because it was primarily a haze of parties, alcohol, sex, and mechanics—and more than a little out of his depth when faced with a depressed, suicidal, twenty-something Steve Rogers.

He’d been pretty determined to hate the man before he’d met him, despite Becca having decided she adored him, because Captain America was everything Tony hated, but he was also so much more.

He was so not qualified to deal with this—how was he supposed to offer any kind of comfort that would make the man not want to kill himself? Tony wasn’t good at Feelings with people who weren’t his Pep and his Rhodey—fuck, he wasn’t even good at it with them.

“Nah,” he huffed uncomfortably, crossing his arms over his chest. “Wouldn’t be much of a fight right now. Maybe once you’ve eaten, big guy.”

“I don’ wanna eat,” Steve grumbled, and Tony watched with horror as Steve’s eyes grew a little redder and suspiciously shiny. “I wanna go home.” The soldier ducked deeper into his blanket nest and added, in a whisper so low Tony almost didn’t hear, “I miss my bed. I miss my mom and Bucky and my boys and I just wanna go home. Why won’t any of you let me go?”

Tony felt sick, and he stumbled a step back until he was steadied by the wall at his back. He had never really considered what it meant for the Captain to wake up in the twenty-first century, but now that he’d heard Steve’s desperate plea, now that he knew… he couldn’t stop considering it.

“Shit, Cap,” he sighed, mentally coming up with and discarding dozens of responses within the span of seconds before settling on… something that might work. “Look, I’m not the right guy to give you advice or life lessons. Unless it’s on what kind of crap not to do. Just…” He shrugged helplessly. “Look, you were Catholic, right?” Tony wasn’t really one for religion, but he understood that some people found comfort in it—the way he found comfort in working in the lab for hours.

When Steve nodded minutely, Tony continued. “Maybe your God meant for you to make it to this century for a reason. And… Maybe Bucky fought and died so you would make it here. Don’t you owe it to both of them to see what that reason is?”

Steve blinked at him, eyes wide and confused, but clearer than they had been the moment before, and Tony felt a little proud of himself for coming up with that.

“Can we have french toast?” Steve finally asked after a considerable, slightly awkward silence, voice hoarse and expression young and vulnerable as he looked at Tony. Something that felt disturbingly like affection bloomed somewhere in the dark recesses of Tony’s chest and he couldn’t stop the soft smile that rose to his lips.

“Yeah, Steve. We can have anything you want.”

——————

Tony

He watched in horrified fascination as Steve demolished—there really was no other word for it—the pile of french toast that one of the cooks had whipped up.

He knew Steve hadn’t eaten properly in days, but damn. This was downright savage, and Tony respected the hell out of it. He was also extracting eternal bragging rights, stealthily taking pictures of Steve—freshly showered and everything—and sending them to all of the Avengers, including Becca.

He had been the one to get Steve out of his self-imposed exile, after all, and to get him to eat.

It was definitely worth bragging about.

“Don’t forget to breathe there, Rogers,” he said jokingly, disproportionally delighted when Steve just raised his hand and flipped him the bird without even taking his eyes off his plate.

“Hey, Itsy Bitsy,” he called out when Natasha slipped into the kitchen, looking uncharacteristically soft in a large purple hoodie and soft black leggings. Tony hadn’t even realised she was back at the Tower in the first place. Romanoff had been flitting in and out of the Tower without much of a discernible schedule, and though it irked Tony that he couldn’t figure her out, he’d accepted that it was something he’d have to learn to live with for the time being.

He spun around on his chair to face her, slightly impressed by the entirely blank look on her face, save for one single, perfectly arched eyebrow. “You can do better than that,” she said impassively, before pulling up one of Tony’s awesome rolling chairs and sitting down at the table with them.

She glanced towards Steve and smiled, her entire expression softening into something disturbingly… human. He knew she wasn’t actually a robot, but considering she was supposedly one of the biggest superspies of the past century, it was rare to see genuine emotion on the spy’s features, and Tony wasn’t sure what to make of said expression directed towards their live-in supersoldier.

“It’s good to see you eating,” she said softly. “And to see you dressed and showered.”

Steve slowed and then stopped eating, blinking at Natasha sluggishly. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “I was real hungry. Feels good.” Bruce, who had entered the kitchen sometime after Natasha had started talking, patted Steve’s shoulder in a wordless sign of support before he went to fetch himself more tea, and Natasha smiled as she patted Steve’s arm gently.

She turned to Tony with a slightly raised eyebrow no more than a heartbeat later. “There has been rumour of retaliation from the Mandarin for the earful you so eloquently gave him on national television,” she said dryly, like they were discussing the weather, and not an international terrorist with a bone to pick with him.

Okay, so maybe calling out the bastard hadn’t been his smartest decision ever.

He sat up straight, biting his lip anxiously. He hadn’t forgotten his little… announcement to the Mandarin, per se, but he had kind of shelved it as an issue to deal with another day, considering there was a depressed, suicidal supersoldier living in his Tower. Happy was on the mend and was being kept under the eye of the best security guards S.I. had on hand, so he’d felt he’d been able to take a step back—at least for a little while.

“Right,” he groaned, briefly considering yelling at Romanoff for bringing it up now. “Okay.”

He wasn’t sure what Romanoff knew about the Mandarin or even why she’d be looking into it while they were really trying to deal with Steve being… well, Steve, but he wasn’t going to turn down a chance at more information to catch the bastard who’d tried to take Happy from them. J.A.R.V.I.S. could keep an eye on Steve while Tony conspired with their resident spider to take down a terrorist.

He wasn’t really worried about the Mandarin retaliating.

The Tower was a fortress, he’d made sure of that, and his residences in Malibu, the Hamptons, and London had all been placed on high alert and evacuated to bare security personnel the second Pepper had learned of his impulsive announcement—after she had finished reading him the riot act, threatening to string him up by his toes, and then concluding by giving him that really sad expression that made his stomach twist until he figured out how to make it up to her.

Rhodey, of course, had just sighed and shaken his head. His silence had always spoken volumes though, and always would.

“S.H.I.E.L.D. has been looking into these bombings for months,” Romanoff continued, oblivious to Tony’s spiralling thoughts. “We’ve not conclusively established a pattern, but there have been a few of the supposed bombers linked to a think-tank named A.I.M.”

Tony wrinkled his nose and poked at a stray crumb of toast that had managed to survive Rogers’ carnage. “Never heard of ‘em,” he shrugged dismissively.

Natasha looked up at him with a single eyebrow arched high on her forehead. “Really? Pepper had a meeting with A.I.M.’s founder a few weeks ago. She said he was oddly persistent about getting Stark Industries to invest in A.I.M., but left without a fuss.” Tony shrugged as Nat tilted her head and considered him curiously. “She didn’t mention it?”

“Must’ve been right around the time we had to rush back to save the Capsicle from himself,” Tony blurted, wincing at the callousness in his own words as they fell from his lips, and he shot a quick glance towards Rogers, only to find him missing from his spot.

“Wha—where did he go?” he stammered, pointing incredulously towards the plate of crumbs Steve had left behind.

Widow’s eyebrow raised impossibly higher. “Bruce took him for a stroll. He needs to stretch his legs.”

“Oh,” Tony slumped back into his seat. “That’s alright then.” he eyed Natasha in a considering manner. “What were we talking about again?”

“The fact that you’ve never heard of A.I.M.,” Natasha deadpanned, eyes directed at her phone rather than at him. “I’d have thought you’d be more involved.”

“Pepper meets with businesses looking for investments every day,” Tony replied testily, jabbing his knife towards her insistently. “If I wanted to know about every single one of them, I wouldn’t have signed the company over to her. If she doesn’t think it’s worth mentioning, it’s probably not worth my time.”

He could see Natasha shrug from the corner of his eye, but waited for her to speak again. Clearly, she’d come here to talk about something, and Tony wasn’t really in a mood to dig it out of her.

She’d tell him soon enough.

“The mission Becca is on,” Natasha said slowly, and Tony froze, turning his spinning chair around so he could see her. “It’s an intel-gathering mission inside an A.I.M. recruitment center in New Jersey. She’s the one who insisted we bring you into the fold. Your name has been coming up a lot lately among the recruits and the scientists. It’s been weeks since you challenged the Mandarin, but they’re still talking about it. Something is going on inside of A.I.M., but we can’t find anything more from where Becca is now, not without risking her cover.”

“So what do you want from me?” Tony raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Who do I need to pay off?”

Romanoff merely bared her teeth in response and replied, “No one. We just need you to make Aldrich Killian think you are going to pay him, so he’ll come to you. He’ll be vulnerable, and we’ll be able to take him in for questioning.”

Before Tony could process that, a loud, shrill alarm startled them both, and a light in the ceiling began flashing red. Tony’s heart squeezed and his stomach dropped, but he refused to show Romanoff how hard his heart was pounding and how nauseous he felt.

“J.A.R.V.I.S.!” Tony yelled, jumping up, ready to call his suit to him, “What the hell is going on?”

“Captain Rogers has managed to shake off Dr. Banner,” J.A.R.V.I.S. replied and, if Tony didn’t know better, he’d say his AI actually sounded worried. “He has gained access to the roof and is currently climbing over the edge. I am distracting him to the best of my abilities, but as I am limited in my options… It appears he’s planning to jump.”

——————

BREAKING—At 07.56 AM, a commotion on the roof of Stark Tower was noticed from the upper floors of surrounding buildings… altercation between what appeared to be several of the Avengers and, possibly, agents of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division—more colloquially known as S.H.I.E.L.D… no comment has been forthcoming from Stark Industries, the Avengers, or S.H.I.E.L.D., so we can only speculate as to the events which took place…

All we know for sure is that, approximately 11 minutes after the altercation on the roof, Captain Rogers departed the Avengers Tower accompanied by several unidentified S.H.I.E.L.D. agents.

—A.J. Barnett, ‘Chaos at Avengers Tower’, CNN, September 30th, 2011

——————

A.I.M. Recruitment Center, Newark, New Jersey, United States of America

September 30

th

, 2011 Becca

The silence in the room was almost palpable, broken only by the news anchor’s confused commentary on the footage that was being shown in a loop. It wasn’t much, and most of it seemed to be filmed from someone’s phone, with the actual footage blurry and shaky, and no one seemed to quite know what to make of it.

Becca’s stomach churned and she felt faintly nauseous. She couldn’t make out anything defining, could barely even see the glint of red and gold that identified Tony’s suit diving over the edge of the roof, freefalling for a heart-stopping couple of heartbeats before he abruptly swept upwards again.

“It’s just a publicity stunt. Stark wants to drive up sales in whatever ungodly niche he’s found and he’s showing off,” Barbara from accounting remarked derisively, and Becca wanted to punch her.

She wanted to be there, wanted to be right with Tony and Steve to deal with whatever the hell was going on, but instead she was stuck here, in New fucking Jersey, trying to dig up information on the staggeringly boring people that worked in the A.I.M. recruitment center.

‘S.H.I.E.L.D. HELICOPTERS SPOTTED’ the text running across the bottom of the screen declared in bold letters, right before the blurry cell phone footage was replaced by clearer, news-worthy footage, clearly shot by whatever news agencies had managed to defy Manhattan traffic to get to the Tower before whatever was going on was over.

The others tittered amongst themselves excitedly, but Becca’s breath caught when Steve appeared on screen, paler than she had ever seen him, flanked by two Agents Rumlow and Sitwell, expressions grim and serious. He looked… he looked terrible.

It took everything she had not to respond to the sight of Steve looking like he’d lost ten pounds and hadn’t gone outside in about a hundred years.

She knew he hadn’t been doing well—Tony had made sure to keep her up to date, and Nat shared what she could as well when they met for a check-in—but she hadn’t thought he was doing this badly. He’d sounded somewhat like himself when she’d talked to him, albeit far sadder and morose.

“Well damn,” someone muttered. “I’d have thought he was more handsome… and healthy up close.”

The news anchors seemed to agree, remarking concernedly about Captain America’s ‘lackluster appearance’. Their comments seemed to only gain approving murmurs around the office, and Becca once again felt her own disdain for these petty, angry people grow. Ever since she’d arrived here, all people seemed to want to gossip about was the ‘abysmal’ way people were treated by Stark Industries in the wake of the Battle of New York—though Becca knew for a fact that Tony and Pepper had tried to make sure everyone who had been injured in the attack was taken care of—and the disgrace of the Avengers being praised for destroying half the city.

She wondered how they’d have felt if they hadn’t done anything and had just let Loki and the aliens win.

Of course, as Daniella Lupei, she was forced to agree with every filthy rumor that passed through the open-office workspace.

She sighed and glanced around at her coworkers, making sure to memorize everyone who seemed a little too excited by the prospect of Captain America being ill or indisposed. Despite how she ached to go home and check on her family, she couldn’t forget why she was here.

Fury had taken a chance on her with this mission, and she did appreciate it.

She’d never been given the chance to work a high-profile undercover operation before—she’d been unable to. She had been far too recognizable after her well-documented and highly publicized return to the U.S. after Iraq, her connection to Tony, and too inexperienced to be allowed to take such operations.

Her conduct concerning Steve and her performance prior to and during the Battle of New York had impressed Fury enough that he’d finally agreed to give her a chance; an intelligence-gathering mission with a relatively simple cover and goal, while still a part of a larger, much more complicated investigation that S.H.I.E.L.D. was running with the aid of several police task forces across the country.

She’d been thrilled, but now… she glanced back at the footage, that had looped back to Steve being escorted out of the tower, stomach churning uneasily. She had to wonder about the timing of it all—she’d been gone for less than a month when Steve started to spiral, Natasha had flat out refused to let her return to New York, and now S.H.I.E.L.D. was taking Steve somewhere?

She didn’t want to think that Natasha would ever deliberately keep her away from Steve so S.H.I.E.L.D., Fury or whoever could play out their schemes, but…

She couldn’t say it hadn’t crossed her mind.

Of course, she’d just thought Nat was trying to keep her distance because she still felt weird about everything that had happened between them. Becca wasn’t quite sure what to think of the way the woman acted around her. Initially, Becca had thought that Nat wasn’t at all as affected by the night they’d spent together—it had clearly been a job for her—but the way Nat responded to her later on made her rethink that stance.

There had been one particular… moment.

Before Becca had left, Nat had come by to wish her luck—which only really resulted in Becca getting a lecture from the Black Widow on how to successfully integrate herself in a group on an undercover mission. Becca had sniped and Nat had snapped back, and somehow, it had ended with an incredibly intense kiss that had ended before it even truly began.

Nat had left without really saying anything, and Becca had tried to ignore it happened at all.

She hadn’t seen Nat again until the woman showed up at one of Becca’s check-ins, declaring herself Becca’s new S.H.I.E.L.D. handler. It was awkward—it was more awkward when Becca had to pretend the texts Nat sent her to check in were sent by her girlfriend back in New York.

The contact had gotten more intense once Nat called Becca to tell her about Steve’s suicide attempt—and Lord, it had taken Nat four hours, in person, to talk Becca out of blowing her cover and hopping into her car and driving back to Brooklyn. Becca wished she hadn’t listened—she didn’t know if her being there would have done anything, if she would have been able to help Steve at all, but God, she should have at least been there to try.

She wasn’t stupid.

Tony had told her about the other suicide attempts, and she wasn’t enough of an idiot to think that the armor she’d seen diving off the tower had formed in mid-air accidentally.

She knew about the watches Tony made for everyone, knew about the million different updates he’d made for the suit, knew about the sleepless nights and binges in the lab—she was pretty sure that Iron Man had just saved Captain America’s life. Again.

She glanced around at her coworkers once more and discreetly slipped her phone from her pocket, opening the conversation thread with Nat.

BECCA: What the hell is going on over there? Tower & Cap & SHIELD all over the news.

She hit ‘send’ before she could change her mind and copied the same message to her chat with Tony, praying that at least one of those dumbasses would get their heads out of their asses and answer her.

She, predictably, didn’t receive a response, and fumed a little as their floor manager appeared to shoo everyone back to their own workstation, pointing out that there were at least four people waiting to be seen during their pre-arranged appointments.

“Uh,” a woman’s voice broke her from her musings. “Hello?”

“Hi, welcome to Advanced Idea Mechanics,” Becca fake-smiled brightly at the woman standing on the other side of her desk, fingers rubbing against the stump of her lower left arm nervously. “Do you have an appointment with one of our recruiters today?”

The woman nodded shakily and barely returned Becca’s smile. “I’m Ellen Brandt… I’m supposed to meet Maya Hansen at 11:00 AM. Aldrich—I mean…” She shook her head a little and smiled sheepishly. “Mr. Killian sent me.”

Becca made sure to keep her face blank as she processed that information, handing the woman a tablet to fill in the necessary forms. Becca hadn’t met Aldrich Killian yet, but every now and then, veterans would come in, claiming the big boss himself had sent them.

So far, Becca had been able to prove that two of those people had been responsible for bombings.

This woman, though… Becca looked up at her again and her stomach twisted at the sight of the dark circles beneath the woman’s eyes and the restless way she looked around, fidgeting and eyes darting from one exit to another. Becca had been that woman after she’d returned from Iraq, and all she wanted was to warn this woman to run far, far away.

Becca might not know what was going on at A.I.M., but she knew it wasn’t good, and vets with PTSD should be nowhere near here.

She bit her tongue and accepted the tablet back with another strained smile, directing the woman to the comfortable couches a little further into the building to wait for Dr. Hansen while Becca marked her as present on the spreadsheet that held all of their planned recruitment meetings.

She’d already forwarded the list from the previous week to Nat, but Becca was willing to be a little risky to add today’s list to the private, encoded S.H.I.E.L.D. server specifically set aside for this mission.

Something about this woman didn’t sit right with Becca.

Before she could do anything though, there was a loud commotion at the door, and Becca barely had a second to look up before Nat ran in, her sundress and purse crooked and her—temporarily, Becca assumed—blonde hair wild and mussed. “Sofie,” Becca blurted, stunned by Nat’s unexplained sudden appearance, but not so much she’d blow her goddamned cover. “What are you—what’s going on?”

The security guard that had followed Nat inside was obviously mollified when he realised Becca knew the crazy blonde and backed off a little, though he did remain within arm’s reach.

“Dani,” Nat sobbed just this side of theatrically, throwing herself into Becca’s arms as soon as she reached her. “It’s Elijah! He’s been in a horrible accident! Your mother is inconsolable, we need you at home right now!” Becca froze, jaw working as she tried to process the words, as she tried to figure out what the hell Nat could mean—

Elijah. Her cover’s older brother.

Becca’s stomach dropped and she felt vaguely nauseous.

Steve. Something had happened to Steve. She’d been right—he did look different on the footage. Something was up back in New York and it was bad enough that Nat was going through the effort of getting Becca out of her mission—just not bad enough to blow her cover, apparently.  

“Wha—is he… Is he going to be okay?” she choked, pushing Nat back so she could try to see into that superspy brain, so she could use Nat’s expressions to determine how worried she should be.

Nat blinked at her, and Becca noted absently that she was even wearing green contacts, before she shrugged and her expression crumpled again. “We don’t know! He was still in surgery when I came to get you. Your phone was off, I couldn’t reach you, so I came here… We need you to come home, Dani.”

“I—” Becca stuttered.

“Lupei,” Dr. Hansen spoke up from behind her, her expression somewhere between sympathetic and exasperated. “Go home. Take a few days, take care of your family. Let us know if you need any help, okay?” Becca had only spoken to Maya Hansen a few times, and though she hadn’t gotten any bad vibes from the woman—and hadn’t found any overt red flags in her history—she wasn’t sure what to make of the woman’s easy dismissal and the offer of help.

She wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth though, and nodded shakily. “Yeah, I—thank you.”

She reached over her desk for her purse and turned off the computer in the same movement, letting Nat take her hand and drag her outside without anything further being said.

Becca tried not to blink too hard at the inconspicuous sedan that sat idling on the curb, four blinkers on, and simply got into the passenger seat as Nat rounded the hood and got in behind the wheel. She waited, stomach still churning and heart still pounding, until Nat had pulled away from the curb and had merged back into traffic before turning to her. “What the fuck is going on? I texted you, I saw the news.”

“I know. Change of plans,” Nat replied tightly, glancing in the rear-view mirror before switching lanes and pulling into the smallest, dingiest alley Becca had ever seen. The car itself barely fit between the walls of the alley, mirrors scraping precariously against the bricks.

“Nat,” Becca said slowly, eyeing their surroundings in confusion, but before she could say anything further, the alley suddenly opened into a little brick square, framed by four windowless buildings, with Tony standing on the far end, fidgeting next to what looked like a smaller version of a quinjet.

“No time, Barnes,” Nat spat curtly, jumping out of the car without even taking the keys from the ignition, stalking to where Tony stood while pulling the blonde wig from her head and undoing the pins holding her red hair back and up. Becca exited the car more slowly, nerves itching beneath her skin, and slammed the door closed before she headed towards the small quinjet, still trying to figure out what the hell was up with all this cloak and dagger shit.

“Will someone please tell me what the fuck is going on?” she demanded loudly, stalking past Tony and into the jet, ignoring the man’s indignant splutter as she blew right past him.

Natasha stood in front of a mirror, removing the contact lenses and wig cap, while J.A.R.V.I.S. rattled off what sounded like a set of coordinates. “Canada,” Nat said contemplatively, while ignoring Becca’s query entirely. “That makes a strange amount of sense.”

“Indeed,” J.A.R.V.I.S. replied in agreement. “Would you like me to set course for [LP1] Yoho National Park?”

“Please do,” Natasha nodded, dumping the second contact lens into the little white container set in front of her. She ran her fingers through her flattened hair, shaking it loose with a soft sigh of relief.  

Tony sauntered inside at that moment, shoving his phone in his pocket and offering Becca a tight smile.

“Clint and Bruce are on stand-by in the Tower, and Pep is on media control,” he said as the door hissed shut and the jet took off on autopilot, making them all stumble. “Rhodey’s busy with the president, but he’s going to try to get a message to Thor, so we can focus on getting our supersoldier.”

“Guys!” Becca yelled when Nat nodded and began to say something, entirely ignoring Becca and her mounting confusion and frustration. Her breath fell from her lips in sharp pants, and she was terrified at this point—everything sounded like Steve was in serious trouble, and he had to be, or Nat would never have pulled her out of her mission, and no one was telling her anything.

“Where is Steve?” she demanded again, pushing at Tony’s shoulder angrily. “Why all the cloak and dagger? What the fuck is going on? I saw S.H.I.E.L.D. take him out of the Tower, I saw the suit,” she glared at Tony, “catch him in mid-air, but I don’t think anyone else realised. What happened?”

Both Tony and Nat fell silent immediately, as if suddenly remembering she was there, eyes wide and a little startled. She’d never seen Nat so out of sorts and it just made her alarm bells ring all the louder. “Sit,” Natasha eventually said, gesturing to one of the seats lining the walls. “We’ll explain everything. It’s just… it’s a long story.”

For once, Tony didn’t interject and didn’t offer any sarcastic quips, just nodded along with Nat’s words.

Becca swallowed thickly, doubtful and afraid, but did as Nat said and lowered herself into one of the seats as Nat and Tony did the same. They exchanged a glance before Tony leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his thighs before he spoke. “This morning… Nat and I were talking in the lab,” he glanced towards the redhead shortly before continuing. “J.A.R.V.I.S. sounded the alarm at 5:30, when Steve managed to shake off Bruce and somehow got onto the roof.”

“Oh no,” Becca moaned quietly, thumping her head back against the metal wall of the Quinjet, squeezing her eyes shut. “He really did jump, didn’t he?”

Tony nodded solemnly. “I caught him. Well, the suit did. Got him back safe and sound.”

“We did,” Nat said calmly, changing from her sundress into her tac gear in front of them without even a shred of shame. “But the media caught wind that something was happening on top of the Tower.”

“They’ve got no clue what happened, only that it was something,” Tony cut in before Becca could say anything, waving his hand vaguely. “Pep’s working on keeping it that way.” She realised for the first time that he looked exhausted, and she wondered worriedly when the last time he slept was.

“So…” she said uncertainly. “Why pull me out of my mission if everything is okay?”

Nat looked at her, and Becca was struck by the sheer determination in her eyes when she said, “Because I promised you I would if he tried again. I keep my promises.”

Becca’s breath caught in her throat and she stared at Nat, her heart pounding in her chest as the redheaded spy looked back, something in her eyes that Becca couldn’t quite name. They stood like that for a moment longer, staring at each other in silence before Tony coughed awkwardly, abruptly drawing Becca’s attention to where he stood.

“Also,” he shrugged, “S.H.I.EL.D. kind of kidnapped him from right out of the Tower, so…”

“They what?” Becca nearly fell out of her seat, staring up at Tony in disbelief. “Explain,” she demanded. “Now.”

“It’s complicated,” Natasha offered, deliberately keeping her voice level and calm, at the same moment Tony exclaimed, “They’re fucking assholes, Becs, I’ve told you that!”

“Just…” Becca sighed and rubbed a hand over her forehead. “Just start at the beginning, okay?”

Tony sat down across from her and shook his head. “I don’t know what went wrong. We got him out of his room, eating breakfast and everything, and then the next thing I know, J.A.R.V.I.S. is telling us he’s on the roof, about to jump.”

“How did you even lose him in the first place?” Becca demanded, incredulous, because the whole damned point of Steve living in the Tower was so they could keep a goddamned eye on him.

“I didn’t lose him,” Tony exclaimed hotly. “Bruce took him for a walk around the Tower and he ran for it.”

“Of course he did!” Becca yelled back, fear and fury burning through her body. “He’s a master tactician, Tony! I bet he’s been planning this for weeks.” Her voice broke, and she choked, shaking her head desperately. “You can’t conveniently forget parts of who he is whenever you see a part of him you didn’t know before. He doesn’t stop being Captain America just because he’s letting you see Steve Rogers.”

“And this isn’t helping him,” Natasha cut in smoothly. “We clearly underestimated him, and that was wrong of us.” She looked at Becca so intensely, she would’ve sworn she nearly felt her skin burn beneath Nat’s gaze. “It won’t happen again. As it stood, we went to the roof as soon as J.A.R.V.I.S. raised the alarm, but we couldn’t stop him before he jumped.”

Becca felt nauseous, and she abruptly buried her face in her hands, struggling to take deep, steady breaths so she wouldn’t be sick all over Tony’s jet. The blurred images she’d seen on the television earlier suddenly seemed crystal clear and the chaotic blurred smear suddenly made much more sense.

“Hey,” Tony’s hands were suddenly on her knees, rubbing soothing circles into the soft skin there. “We got him. He’s okay—the suit caught him, took him back up to the roof. He’s okay, Becs.”

Much as she didn’t want to admit it, the words and Tony’s touch did help settle her a little.

“He’s alive,” she breathed, looking up at Tony with watery, stinging eyes. “You caught him.” Tony nodded, his smile tight and filled with unspoken understanding.

“S.H.I.E.L.D. showed up as soon as we got him back inside,” Natasha continued from where she was seated in the pilot’s seat. “They insisted he come with them, took him to this cabin up in the mountains.”

“So he just… went with them?” Becca stared at Tony incredulously, barely able to comprehend what she was hearing. Tony shrugged, looking equally bewildered as she felt while Nat sat in the pilot’s seat, tapping at the screen absently, but Becca knew she was still listening.

She rubbed her hands over her face tiredly, trying to find a way to process.

She looked up again when Nat settled on the seat beside her, tensing a little when the redhead rested a hand on her thigh. “There wasn’t much of a choice involved,’ she shrugged. “Steve wasn’t interested in staying with us anymore, and S.H.I.E.L.D. was the safest alternative while we got our shit together.”

“They locked him in a remote cabin by himself,” Becca deadpanned. “They took him away from his support system, locked a suicidal, depressed supersoldier with PTSD by himself in a cabin in Bumfuck Nowhere—how is that safer?”

Her voice rose an octave at the end, higher than she’d meant to, and she caught Tony flinching minutely.

“It isn’t,” Natasha said calmly, squeezing her fingers around Becca’s wrist pointedly, suitably distracting her from her growing fear for Steve. “That’s why we’re going to get him.”

“You should have pulled me out weeks ago,” Becca replied hoarsely, looking up at Nat desperately and angrily. “I asked you to let me come home weeks ago.” There was something unreadable in the way Nat looked at her in response, something confusing and real and terrifying, that made something in Becca’s chest twist, regardless of the way most of her higher brain function was occupied with worrying about her friend, locked in a cabin in the mountains by himself.

“I got you new gear!” Tony suddenly interrupted excitedly, slicing right into the awkward tension, and for a second Becca was almost grateful for his inherent inability to deal with overly emotional moments. Of course, said gratefulness only lasted until she actually laid eyes on the gear he’d designed for her. “Tony,” she groaned as she stood, following him to the back of the jet reluctantly.

Tony just grinned at her, bouncing up and down just a little as he handed her swathes of dark fabric, undoubtedly lined with whatever bulletproof, lightweight substance he’d been able to get his hands on—or fabricate on his own; she wouldn’t put it past him.

“All of it is bulletproof now,” Tony said excitedly as she shook out the black shirt he’d handed her. “It’ll probably deflect knives too, but I didn’t test that too thoroughly, so maybe don’t run headfirst into a knife fight, yeah?” He pointed one finger at her, as if Becca was the reckless one between them.

She wrinkled her nose at the purple accents in the breast plate he handed her, but she had to admit, he had kept it practical. It wasn’t bright purple, like she’d feared, but a deeper, royal purple that was so dark it was nearly black. It was, however, just enough that she’d stand out if she wore it on missions with S.H.I.E.L.D., and that was why Tony had made it for her, hadn’t he?

To make sure she couldn’t get so badly hurt again.

She could put up with non-regulation gear if it helped her family feel more comfortable with her job.

“It looks good, Tony,” she offered, changing into the shirt and combat trousers without a care—it really wasn’t anything either Tony or Nat hadn’t seen before—and let Tony show her how to fasten the armoured vest securely. Her approval seemed to stir Tony on, and he jumped into overdrive, fitting her with wrist guards, a thick belt with enough loops and pockets to store an entire armoury and steel-tipped boots that still felt light on her feet despite their reinforced soles and tips.

“Looking good, Barnes,” Natasha said, sidling up beside Becca when Tony eventually ran out of steam and went to torment J.A.R.V.I.S. about specs and pockets instead. She tapped the tightly fastened breast plate and smirked, raising a single eyebrow at her. “Can you even breathe in that thing?”

“Not really,” Becca admitted breathlessly, smiling brightly at Nat despite herself. “Must be ‘cause you take my breath away.”  

“That’s terrible,” Nat deadpanned, face remaining expressionless for two whole seconds before she broke, grinning a bright, beautiful smile that made Becca’s stomach flop upside down. “You should be ashamed of that, Barnes. Is that how you pick up women these days?”

Becca didn’t know where she stood with Nat, wasn’t even sure she wanted to know anymore, but she liked this—the easy banter, the flirting. The way they’d been when they first met—despite Becca not knowing who Nat really was back then.

She could do this.

“I dunno,” she shrugged, drawing her lower lip between her teeth as she looked at Nat from beneath her eyelashes. “Worked on you, didn’t it?”

“So,” Tony butted in, leaning back against the console with a smirk. “Ready to take on ‘the Retreat’, you two, or should I let you have a moment?” Becca froze, eyes wide and dread sinking into her stomach as she stared at Tony, then at Nat, and then back at Tony.

“The Retreat?” she hissed, dread swiftly making way for anger, turning on her heel to glare at Natasha. “The cabin in the woods—that’s what the Retreat is?” It wasn’t like Becca thought Nat knew everything just because she was a spy, but…

Well, it wasn’t like it was an entirely unreasonable assumption.  

Said spy shrugged a little, expression carefully blank. “Above my paygrade. Hadn’t heard of it until J.A.R.V.I.S. dug it up. You know it?”

Becca rubbed her fingers across her forehead tiredly, shaking her head. “No. Yes.” She shrugged helplessly, and for the first time, she realised how tired she was. “They mentioned wanting to send him there to ‘acclimate’ to the twenty-first century when he first got out of the ice, and then again after the Battle of New York. Bruce mentioned it too.”

Tony perked up at that, eyes bright and worried at the same time. “Brucie’s stayed there?”

Something about the way Tony talked about Bruce—the way he looked when he did—worried Becca a little. It reminded her a little too much of the way he’d looked when he was pining for Rhodey when they’d been broken up in ’08, or the way he’d pined after Pepper for years, and it worried her.

She didn’t have the time to worry about it now though.

“I don’t know for sure,” she said slowly, getting her mind back onto the truly important matter. “I just know he mentioned S.H.I.E.L.D. putting him up in a retreat in the mountains after Harlem. Sounds too similar to be a coincidence.”

Before anyone could speak, J.A.R.V.I.S. sounded a short alarm. “Apologies, sir,” he broke in. “Urgent message from Colonel Rhodes.” Tony frowned, sweeping towards the console immediately, but before he could do anything, Rhodey’s frantic voice filtered through the speakers. “Tony! Tony, I need you to come back right now.”

Tony frowned, and Becca noticed his fingers twitching towards the sound of Rhodey’s voice, almost like he couldn’t stop himself. “Rhodey? What’s up? I thought you were with the president?”

Rhodey remained silent for a moment before he said, slowly, “I came back ‘cause Pep asked me to. She was… It wasn’t… Shit. Okay.” The other man sighed, sounding a little muffled, and Becca had known Rhodey long enough to know he’d be rubbing his hands over his face. “You gotta stay calm, okay Tones? Something happened.”

Becca could see the second Tony’s legs nearly gave out from beneath him and moved before she even realised she had, curling her fingers in the soft fabric of his shirt, pressing herself against his side, holding him up with her own weight.

“Rhodey,” he said hoarsely, breathing in and out very slowly and deliberately as he leaned against her, allowing her to support him. “Stop beating around the bush. Are you okay? Is Pep?”

Rhodey was silent for a heartbeat before he said, “No, she’s not. She was taken.”

——————

Things move quickly in the world of medicine, but if expert predictions about what to expect in 2018 prove accurate, they might move faster than anyone could have anticipated, with unseen breakthroughs!

In the last decade, technology companies have become imperative to the development of healthcare.

Breakthroughs in everything from patient monitoring and innovative ways to treat loss of limbs have been seen, and so much more. There are predictions that we will soon see simpler, less invasive cures to cancer in the years to come, and many other advancements from companies in Silicon Valley to New Jersey, all of which could dramatically shift the world of medicine as we know it.

The Cleveland Clinic, for the past four years, has put together an annual list of expected medical innovations for the coming year. They did so by…

10. Exhaled nitric oxide (NO) – breath analysis for diagnosing asthma. A new hand-held diagnostic testing device measures a patient’s level of exhaled NO, which is a biomarker for asthma. Monitoring NO levels allows physicians to more accurately tailor their treatment strategies.

…

6. Telehealth monitoring for heart failure patients – miniature implantable monitors…

…

2. Extremis – an advanced form of genetic manipulation, developed by Dr. Maya Hansen, with support from technological company A.I.M. and its founder, Aldrich Killian, for practical application in combat veterans who suffered loss of limb. The application enhances the user’s physiology by, essentially, rewriting their DNA. Testing shows that it harnesses bio-electricity in the body and activates parts of the brain that govern repair and recode it chemically.

… early testing shows users gaining regenerative healing abilities from the ability to heal minor wounds to regrowing detached limbs. Some users have also begun displaying superhuman strength, reflexes and higher resilience, comparable to the effects reported by Captain Steven Rogers in the aftermath of having been administered the super soldier serum.

…

1. New molecular imaging biomarker for early detection of Alzheimer’s disease – currently, positive diagnosis of Alzheimer’s is only possible upon autopsy… New radioactive molecular imaging compound called AV-45 and a PET scan can allow doctors to ‘see’ inside patients brains to detect beta-amyloid plaques, the tell-tale signature of Alzheimer’s.

For more information on the annual Top 10 Medical Innovations list, including descriptions, videos, and year-by-year comparisons, visit: http://innovations.clevelandclinic.org/Summit/Top-10-Medical-Innovations.aspx.

—CNCB, ‘Cleveland Clinic unveils Top Ten…’, September 29th, 2011

——————

The Retreat, Yoho National Park, Alberta, Canada

Steve

It was so quiet.

Steve could only remember this kind of quiet on long-abandoned battlefields and trenches that reeked of death and decay. He remembered this kind of ominous silence permeating dark, snow-covered woods surrounding Hydra bases, after all life had been chased off or killed.

It’d been the kind of silence that surrounded the weapons factory around Azzano before he broke in to free Bucky and his boys—not that he had known the Howlies would become so immeasurably important to him then, of course. The quiet unnerved him as much as it soothed him, both then and now. Then, it meant he had not been discovered, that his recovery mission hadn’t been blown before it even started.

Now, it meant he was alone.

It meant no one was bothering him anymore.

He had thought… he had thought it would be easier, to be alone.

The Tower had been… the Tower had been suffocating. There had always been people around, constantly watching him, stopping him from going, from letting go like he wanted to.

He wasn’t sure how he got here, to the ominous, quiet place.

Things had been a bit of a blur after he’d followed Tony to the kitchen and put him at ease by eating whatever they’d put in front of him—because everyone deserved a nice last supper, even terrible sinners like Steve—but he knew they’d stopped him again. He didn’t even know how they’d done it, because he’d done it—he’d jumped, and for a second, he’d been free—

But then he hadn’t been, and there’d been people everywhere, shouting and pulling at him, like they owned him, like they’d been doing since he received Erskine’s serum, even though the only person who’d ever owned Steve—body and soul—wouldn’t ever consider being this demanding with him.

He didn’t think he really cared all that much about the ‘how’ of it all, however.

In the Tower, there’d constantly been people talking to him, goading him and guilting him into taking a new breath every second of every day, and when people had shown up, demanding to take him somewhere he could ‘recover’ alone, he’d jumped on the opportunity to get away from the ever-present eyes.

There was no one here, really.

No one to tell him to eat, or to stay away from the knives and guns and toxins.

No one to tell him he couldn’t walk into the shiny, blue lake just beyond the porch and never resurface.

No one but the locked and reinforced front door and windows, and the emptied kitchen and bathroom cabinets.

It didn’t deter Steve, though. He had a goal, and he would stop at nothing to achieve it. He’d promised it to Bucky and to his boys and to everyone who was lost to him—who he lost because he hadn’t been stronger and faster and better.

As soon as he could stand, he would break that door down and walk into the water, and he would go the way he’d intended to in 1945, without waking up in the future.

And he’d be with his family again.

He was unsure how long he’d been sitting by the wall made up nearly entirely of windows, staring out into the silent, dark woods unseeingly when the silence—that he’d craved, that he’d grown so used to by now—was broken by the smallest of noises. His head snapped up and he peered into the darkness, a tendril of apprehension breaking through the blankness he’d been feeling for months.

He straightened and pressed one hand to the cool glass.

There was a blur of movement.

Someone was out there, and they were coming right at him.

——————

BREAKING NEWS – ALIENS DESTROY GREENWICH

… alien force’s attempted invasion of London caused massive damage to historic buildings in Greenwich, as well as various other buildings around the city. Emergency responders were unable to effectively subdue the invading, unfamiliar troops and were instructed to steer clear of the battle.

… Thor, known from the Battle of New York that took place several months ago, engaged with what appeared to have been the extra-terrestrial leader and managed to defeat him with aid of several American scientists, whose devices seemingly caused the enemy to disappear… British government and agencies are still trying to understand what provoked the attack, but no official statements have been made.

Questions have also been raised as to the absence of the rest of Thor’s superhero team, better known as the Avengers, during the battle itself, and the distinct lack of involvement of the international intelligence agency known as S.H.I.E.L.D., though experts suggest the cost of damages might have been considerably higher had the Hulk been in attendance during the battle…

… little seems to be known of the extra-terrestrials, although footage and eyewitnesses show them dressed in armour and masks. Some experts have suggested they may be Asgardian in origin, but—

CONTINUED ON PAGE 4

—Hollie Abernathy, ‘Aliens destroy Greenwich’, BBC 1, October 2nd  

——————

Avengers Tower, Manhattan, New York, United States of America

October 1

st

, 2011 Tony

Tony didn’t think he’d ever been this happy to see the couch on the shared floor of the Tower before.

It was a good couch, of course, well-worn and well-loved by every one of the reckless idiots Tony liked to call his team, but it certainly wasn’t usually his favourite piece of furniture in the whole building. Until today, of course, when he limped through the door with Pepper on one arm and Rhodey on the other, all three of them covered in various bruises and minor cuts and experiencing similar levels of exhaustion.

It had been a long, tedious, painful forty-eight hours, and though Killian was dead—and, therefore, no longer an immediate problem—the issue with Extremis and those injected remained, as did the fallout of the Mandarin’s attacks and the president’s kidnapping.

Pepper’s skin was still disturbingly heated beneath his touch, and it scared Tony that he physically couldn’t make it down to his lab to figure out a way to stabilise whatever Killian had done to her. He couldn’t quite bear parting from Rhodey and Pepper though, not right now, when he’d come so close to losing them. Pepper was stable, for the moment, so it could wait.

“C’mon, we need to rest and sit,” Pepper insisted, guiding him and Rhodey towards said couch, even though she was the one they should all be really worried about right now.

“Pep,” Rhodey tried, but a single look from their—quite literally—fiery redhead silenced his protest before he even got the chance to speak. Tony wisely shut his mouth and let his two favourite people guide him onto the couch, collapsing into a tangle of limbs.

They lay there for a long moment, relishing in the silence and the knowledge that they were safe for a long, comfortable moment before Rhodey moved, surreptitiously running careful fingers across Tony’s arms and Pepper’s neck, checking for injuries without making a big deal about it. It was probably just as well that he didn’t, Tony admitted to himself, because Tony would definitely insist he was perfectly fine if Rhodey did make a bigger deal about it.

And, he grinned to himself, so would Pepper.

For all that she liked to scold Tony for hiding crucial details about his health, she was just as bad as he was about letting him and Rhodey take care of her when she was sick or hurt.

He moved a little, so his head rested against Pepper’s stomach, her skin still unnaturally warm beneath his touch. It worried him that she still burned so hot, that she was infected with something he didn’t know how to cure yet—that no one knew how to cure yet.

He would figure it out though.

He’d been able to figure out the stabilising formula to it ten years ago after spending only a few hours with it, while drunk off his ass, based solely off of Maya’s descriptions—he could do it now too. Even the fact that he really didn’t know much about bioengineering wasn’t much of a challenge.

He hadn’t known anything about thermonuclear physics before July either, and now, here he was.

He could do it.

This was about Pepper. Tony could do anything if it was for Pepper.

“Pep,” he began, levering himself up onto his elbows, eyeing his girlfriend suspiciously. “You’re okay, right? You’re not gonna burst into flames?”

“No,” Pepper huffed, tangling her fingers in his hair and dragging him back down until his head was pressed to her stomach again. “Shut up, Tony.”

Tony, for once, did as Pepper said.

It felt good to lie in Pep and Rhodey’s arms again, to hear their steady heartbeats on either side of him, to take a breath without an immediate disaster calling for their attention. He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, tangled up in each other, just breathing—and, maybe, dozing off just a little—but he knew he was mightily disappointed when JARVIS quietly spoke up, alerting them to the fact that someone had boarded the private elevators and was on their way up.

Tony put his money on either Clint and Bruce or Becca and Nat.

He winced, suddenly remembering that he hadn’t even had the chance to check in with them, to see if they’d gotten to Steve, if S.H.I.E.L.D. had given them any trouble, or if Tony had been able to keep them sufficiently occupied with A.I.M. and the president being kidnapped and all.

“Tony? Pep? Rhodey? You in here?”

Tony exhaled in relief when Becca’s voice floated towards them. He reluctantly moved when Pepper went to sit up, but relaxed again when Rhodey tugged him closer with an arm around his shoulders. Tony pretty much had a front row seat to watch Becca storm inside, eyes wide and a little terrified—and suddenly he felt horrible, because the last thing they’d told Becca was that A.I.M. had kidnapped Pepper.

His eyes widened as Becca let out a small, gasping sob filled with relief when she caught sight of them. She threw herself in Pepper’s arms, clutching at the older woman tightly, and something in Tony’s chest clenched at the sight, because he forgot, sometimes, that Pepper meant a lot to Becca too. Pepper had been in Tony’s life for over a decade, and while it seemed like forever, sometimes, if you really thought about it, well…

Pepper had been in Becca’s life for nearly half of Becca’s whole life.

Pepper had taught Becca how to apply makeup when she was fifteen, had talked to her when she had her first date, had been just as frantic with worry as Tony and Becky when she’d gone missing.

“I’m okay,” he heard Pepper mutter sternly. “Don’t you look at me like that. I’m going to be just fine.”

Becca snorted a little, and Tony grinned—because there she was, his baby-Becs—before he realised that Becca was obviously planning on ambushing him and Rhodey in a fierce hug next. He wasn’t wrong, and he barely had time to brace himself before she launched herself in their direction, tackling them back onto the couch.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” she said, voice a little muffled from where her face was pressed up against Rhodey’s shoulder, fingers holding tightly to Tony’s slightly singed shirt. “We’re good, kiddo,” Rhodey replied softly, rubbing his hand over her back gently. “Your intel was great. Everything you managed to get helped us figure out what they were up to.”

Tony’s heart did something funny again at the sight of his oldest friend—and long-time boyfriend—holding his baby-Becs, calming her down from the fever pitch she’d probably worried herself into over the past forty-eight hours, and he sighed  a little.

Much like Pepper, Rhodey had been a big part of Becca’s life too.

Tony would, actually, be surprised if she even remembered him not being there. He’d known Rhodey since MIT—met him in the year Becca was born. Started bringing him home and to family gatherings regularly by the time she was three.

Rhodey had taught her how to drive.

He’d helped her enlist when she turned eighteen, encouraged her to go further, to push harder and to earn every stripe she was given before her capture.

They were a family.

“I was so scared,” Becca whispered, drawing him from his thoughts, voice small as though she were confessing to the worst of crimes, and Tony couldn’t stand it.

“So were we,” Tony offered, slipping his arms around Becca when she moved from Rhodey’s arms to his. “But we made it, and we’re all fine, and we’re all going to take a very long nap, because we’ve really earned one.” He glanced over his shoulder to where Pepper stood with Nat and, surprisingly—or not, given that Tony had sent Becca the terrier after him—Steve.

He met the supersoldier’s eyes for a brief moment before the blond turned away, muttering something to Pepper and Nat before slipping out of the room.

Tony swallowed and glanced down in panic at Becca, who was softly talking to Rhodey now, exchanging details of their exploits of the past few days, and back to the door Steve had slipped through.

He managed to slip away from Becca without really disturbing her conversation with Rhodey, catching the Widow by the elbow just before she slipped through the door to follow Steve. “I’ll go,” he said, a little surprised by how steady his own voice was.

The redhead eyed him sceptically. “Last time you talked to him he tried to jump off the roof.”

Tony reeled back, taken aback by her hostile words before he hissed back, “Yes, and when you did, he tried to drown himself in the shower. He’s my friend, Romanoff, believe it or fucking not. I’m going to talk to him. You stay here.”

He didn’t wait for another scathing reply and instead pushed through the door, ducking into the only empty room on this floor on instinct, because he was a genius, and he knew that Steve tended to revert to sitting on cold, hard floors when he felt alone and overwhelmed.

Steve sat, as Tony expected, on the floor in front of one of the floor-to-ceiling windows, forehead pressed to the cold glass. He didn’t react when Tony took a seat beside him, groaning a little when his knees protested the cross-legged position.

Fuck, he was getting old.

They sat there side-by-side in silence for a good long while before Tony managed to choke out the words that had been on his mind since he’d seen Steve again.

“I think I get it now,” he confessed, glancing towards Rogers quickly before resolutely focusing his gaze back on the Manhattan skyline. “Seeing Pepper fall… Thinking she was… I can’t… I can’t get the sight of it out of my head.” He exhaled shakily and shook his head. “I’m sorry I didn’t get it before.”

“Don’t be,” Steve said softly, but firmly, and Tony was so surprised Steve actually spoke that he almost jumped. “I wouldn’t have wished that kind of understanding on anyone,” Steve added, meeting Tony’s eyes for an intense, but brief, moment before he looked away again. “Least of all on you, Tony.”

Tony snorted. “You don’t even like me.”

“I like you fine.” Steve rolled his eyes. “You’re just a pain in my ass most of the time.”

Tony grinned, bumping his shoulder into Steve’s impishly. It felt good to see the other man display emotion beyond a deep, desperate sadness, and Tony wished he’d brought Becca back sooner. “I aim to please,” he chuckled sassily. “From what I hear, you’re into that.”

Steve only rolled his eyes. “Fuck you, Tony.”

“Only in your dreams, Cap,” Tony quipped. “I’m a taken man. Pep and Rhodey would take offence.”

Steve snorted a laugh and knocked his shoulder into Tony’s, grinning a little at their reflection in the window, looking lighter and happier than he had seen him look in months.

Something in Tony’s chest loosened a little.

They’d be alright.

The smile on Steve’s lips disappeared as swiftly as it had appeared though, and the sudden downturn of his mood took Tony a little by surprise. “I’m sorry I scared you,” Steve said abruptly, carefully avoiding Tony’s gaze as he spoke. “I didn’t… I didn’t really believe anyone would care if I…” He broke off again, and Tony felt that familiar sense of nausea well up at the thought that they somehow hadn’t managed to show Steve that they cared.

“Of course we care,” he blurted, breaking the fragile silence. “Cap—Steve,” he corrected himself. “You’re not alone in this anymore, okay?”

Steve didn’t really respond, twisting his fingers on his lap before he whispered, “I made Becca cry. She was… she was scared. For me. And I didn’t… For a second I couldn’t even bring myself to care.” A broken sound fell from the soldier’s lips and he hunched forward, burying his face in his hands.

Tony stared at him, mouth gaping a little as he tried to… well, tried to find something to make Steve stop crying, for God’s sake, because it wasn’t like Steve had committed the worst crime in history.

He was depressed. He needed help.

“Is that why you came back with them?”

As soon as the words fell from his lips, Tony wanted to slap himself, because this was not the time for his brain-to-mouth filter to completely stop functioning. Steve, however, seemed to be shaken out of his crying fit by the blunt words and looked up at Tony with blue, teary eyes.

“No,” he whispered. “I wanna do better. I just don’t remember how to. But I promised. I promised Becca, and I promised Becky, and I promised myself. I trust you and them. I’ll try.”

Tony nodded shakily, averting his eye from Steve’s all too emotional gaze, barely resisting the urge to squirm, because he didn’t do this. He did emotions with Pepper and Rhodey, and Becca, when she absolutely insisted. Steve, mercifully, didn’t comment, and resumed staring out at the city, pressing his forehead against the window again.

At least he’d stopped crying.

They sat in silence until an alarm blared, jarring them both into immediate action—and the part of him not devoted to confusion and jumpiness was immensely happy to see Steve slip into Super-Cap mode quicker than he had in months.

“JARVIS?” Tony exclaimed, rushing back into the main area where Rhodey, Nat, and Becca had jumped to their feet too. “What the hell is it this time?”

“Apologies,” JARVIS said. “It appears London is under attack by aliens. Thor is already at the scene.”

Tony groaned.

They couldn’t have a simple moment of peace, could they? Not even half a day? Really?

He took a deep breath and looked at the team, feeling a little fortified by the determined looks he received in turn. “Well then,” he shrugged. “Suit up.”

———————

Undisclosed Hydra Base

Alexander Pierce

Alexander Pierce glared down at the mutinous man who knelt before him, furious at the lack of control and forward thinking Rumlow had displayed. “What were you thinking?” he hissed. He kept his eyes trained on the man, but spared a bare glance towards the Asset’s still form on the metal table, where their doctors and experts were poking away at it to see how much damage Rumlow had managed to do.

“It was malfunctioning,” Rumlow insisted. “Disobedient. It killed four men before I could subdue it, and its memories were clearly returning in the Captain’s presence.”

Pierce shook his head in disappointment.

“You poured decades of work down the drain!” Pierce shouted. “That trigger word was only to be used as an absolutely last resort. It takes years to make it compliant again! Four men—four hundred men—would have been well worth keeping him intact.” Rumlow opened his mouth again, likely to spout more justifications that would not take away the fact that the man had destroyed their best assassin—one that they would direly need in the coming years.

“I don’t want to hear another word from you,” he spat. “You’re demoted. You will no longer work on the Insight Project or Project Winter. You better hope that we’re still able to recover the DNA samples from him and the niece, and that Rogers will not recover so quickly without the Soldier whispering in his ear. We already lost weeks’ worth of work when Rogers moved to the Mechanic’s stronghold, and now you do this.”

Rumlow glowered at him, but remained mum as Pierce turned to the men and women pouring over their broken Asset. “Put it back in cryo,” he ordered. They would take it out when they had need of it again—when they had the time to retrain and recondition it.

He barely waited for them to acknowledge his orders before he stormed outside.

This changed everything.

The timetable would need to be adjusted.

 TO BE CONTINUED IN ‘Decisions’

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I deeply apologise for the long wait on this chapter. I had a lot of balls in the air plotwise, and it took me a lot longer than I expected to really get everything settled the way I wanted to. This chapter requires the same warnings I issued on the first one; Steve is not doing well in this, and it shows a lot.

Also, first, there's a couple of time jumps in the fic. The articles that are in there are also not neccessarily in chronological order. Each time, there should be a time and place in the beginning of the scene, so you can keep track of what happens when though :) Second; since I can't say it enough times, please, please heed the tags. I put them there for a reason. If any of the tags squick you out or are triggers, please feel free to message me, and I'll be happy to explain what happens where, so you can decide if you want to read it or not.

Much, much love to my darling Juulna for helping me make this fic (and all the others that are yet to come) a reality.

This fic will be followed by a series of oneshots before the next, longer work.

Hope you enjoyed!

Love, Annaelle

Read [HERE] on AO3, or start from the beginning of this [FIC] or the [SERIES] on Tumblr and find the [SEQUEL].  

#Never Feel Alone #Stucky Fanfic #stucky #my writing #IHWSBY sequel #IHWSBY #NFA #fanfiction