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aloha-solar · 3 years

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The Spaces Between the Stars: Three

Rating: M

AO3 link here

It was soothing to see that this project was like the Lazarus Project. Of course, the guidelines and steps this time were simpler but the two’s commonalities made Miranda feel more confident as she worked. It made her feel even more confident that she didn’t have a doctor glancing over her shoulders every five minutes, second-guessing every decision she made. No, for the most part Miranda worked in complete privacy, only calling in assistance when Shepard needed surgery.

For the most part. The doctors stayed away, but the visitors certainly didn’t.

Some of Jack’s students had already been discharged, but at least half of them still needed to remain in the hospital for further treatment. As a result, Jack took to sticking her head round after she visited her students.

“Jack, you do realize that I’m actually trying to work here?” Miranda said one evening. It had been two weeks since Hackett hired her, and she felt pleased with the progress Shepard made. The burns were mostly superficial, and while Miranda felt certain they would leave some scarring, it wouldn’t be debilitating. The wound on the left side of Shepard’s torso still needed regular dressing, but it hadn’t showed any signs of infection or major damage. Her lung puncture was healing nicely as well, and they’d been able to switch her to an oxygen mask instead of full intubation. The only problem seemed to be her brain…

Jack shrugged, offering Miranda a paper cup of tea from the canteen. “Yeah, I know. But I’m currently out of commission until the kids are all back on their feet, so what else am I supposed to do?” She took a slurp of her energy drink. Miranda rolled her eyes.

“You can learn other skills,” Miranda said. “And I know most of those tattoos are self-inflicted. You could open a tattoo parlor in the meantime.” Jack laughed before downing the rest of her drink in two seconds flat.

“Why? Want to be my first customer, princess?” Jack said. “How about a nice Cerberus symbol on your—”

“Maybe you’re good at something else,” Miranda said quickly. Jack laughed again before punching Miranda on the shoulder. Miranda shot her a quick smile before turning her attention back to her datapad. Jack walked over to the window to Shepard’s hospital room.

“She’s doing as well as she can, considering the circumstances,” Miranda said, not turning around and answering the question that was playing in Jack’s mind.

“She wasn’t this bad when you guys dug her up, right?” Jack asked. Miranda glanced over at Jack. Jack was still looking through the window, but she’d crumpled her can in her hand and ruptured it. Miranda turned off her datapad and then stood next to her.

"When we got her, we couldn’t tell if she was a man or a woman,” Miranda said. “A lot of her gear was infused onto her body, and—”

“So she’s not as fucked up,” Jack said flatly.

“No,” Miranda said. “She’s not.” She wondered if she should something nice for Jack—perhaps give her a shoulder pat or a hand squeeze—when Jack suddenly stepped away.

“Gotta go see the kids one more time before visiting hours are up,” Jack said. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. Miranda saw that Jack’s jaw was slightly more rigid than usual. Her voice sounded thicker as well. “See you around, princess.”

“Jack—” Miranda began but Jack had already walked down the hallway and turned the corner. Miranda sighed, before taking a sip of her tea and heading back into Shepard’s room.

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There were lots of visitors to Shepard’s room in that month. Miranda never saw Kasumi in-person, but there would be little hints that she’d stopped by whenever Miranda left the room: once there was a teddy bear stuck at the end of Shepard’s bed; another time, an abstract painting hanging on the wall that said, “Get well soon, Shep!” When Miranda scanned it with an omni-tool, she saw that it was an elcor creation, a piece that had been declared stolen just before the war began. Miranda considered calling the police, but instead ended up taking the painting home to her apartment. Shepard would probably get a laugh out of it, she decided, before they handed it in.

Zaeed came once, carrying a bottle of wine and a box of chocolates. Miranda chuckled when she saw him. “I didn’t think you were the romantic type, Zaeed,” Miranda said as the two of them shook hands. “And I don’t think Shepard’s ready to eat solid foods yet.”

"I couldn’t damn well smuggle her in a gun now, could I?” Zaeed said. “Figured it was the next best thing. These are damn good chocolates, and the wine’s from 2122.”

“How do you know the chocolates are damn good?” Miranda said.

“Because I had to try a couple to make sure they weren’t poisoned!” Zaeed said. He handed Miranda the box and the bottle, before taking the seat next to Shepard’s bed. He put his arms behind his head and crossed his legs.

“How did you even get these anyway?” Miranda asked, putting the bottle down on the floor next to Zaeed and plucking a raspberry cream chocolate from the box. “You were on the Citadel, weren’t you?”

“Not all of the Citadel was destroyed,” Zaeed said. “Most of the Outer Wards did get pretty fucked over, and there were apparently a couple of attacks on the Presidium, but most people fled to the Inner Wards when the Reapers decided to bloody drag us across the galaxy. And that isn’t bloody alien swill: that is pure Earth chocolate. Speaking of which, the marzipan ones are pretty good. Toss me one, will you?”

“I thought we were supposed to be saving these,” Miranda said, but she obliged.

“There’s a good girl,” Zaeed said, popping the chocolate in his mouth. He nodded at Shepard. “How’s my favourite commander doing? She all right?”

“As all right as she can be, Zaeed,” Miranda said. She closed the lid on the chocolate box and put it on the floor too.

“She’ll get up eventually,” Zaeed said. “When I got shot in the head, doctors thought I was done for. Said I’d be in a coma for the rest of my life. Shows how much those bastards know.” He chuckled. “Rage ain’t just an anesthetic, it’s a hell of a stimulant.”

“I don’t think rage is going to help,” Miranda said.

“You don’t think she’s not gonna be pissed that the Reapers nearly destroyed Earth and every fucking planet in the galaxy? Nah. She’s gonna be pissed when she wakes up,” Zaeed said. “Now if you need a merc to help discharge her early, then I might be available..."

Garrus and Tali were still off the grid, which left Miranda thoroughly unsurprised. All the Normandy crew would be banging down the hospital door if they were still on Earth, and none of the alien crew would even dream of going off-world until they saw Shepard wake up. She hoped that wherever they were, they’d be back on Earth by the time Shepard woke up. It stung, but they’d been with Shepard since the beginning. And as much as Shepard cared for Miranda, it would be stupid to assume that Shepard wouldn’t be disappointed when she only saw Miranda, and none of the rest of her crew.

Jacob and Grunt were off-world too, but at least Miranda had spoken to Jacob. She didn’t expect anything from Grunt—the krogan quickly dispatched themselves the second the last Reaper fell—but Jacob was stationed on a ship near the ruins of the Arcturus Station, part of a team that was supposed to rebuild it

“But you don’t know how to build anything, Jacob,” Miranda said, two days after Zaeed visited. “How are you supposed to help rebuild an entire space station?”

“By not being part of the building team,” Jacob answered. The connection was full of static, but Miranda could still here Jacob's voice above it. “I’m there to help guard the workers, prevent any attacks and fights from outsiders.”

“Ah, Jacob. And here I thought you left your merc days behind you,” Miranda said.

“I’m still serving as a member of the Alliance,” Jacob countered. “Plus they want to make Arcturus a military outpost this time, instead of being a hybrid between a base and civilian housing. They’re going to heavily reinforce it and everything.”

“What else could be out there besides the Reapers?”

“No idea,” Jacob said. “But…doesn’t it make you feel better at night knowing that we have a major base against outside attacks?”

“I suppose,” Miranda said, knowing that pointing out Arcturus Station's quick destruction during the Reaper invasion would not be a good idea. “But I’ve got to run, Jacob. Shepard isn’t going to make a full recovery without me. Tell Brynn I said hello and that I hope everything’s going well with the baby.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Miranda,” Jacob said, laughing. “And Brynn…Brynn will be fine. Let me know when Shepard wakes up. Maybe I’ll treat us all to a few drinks. Just like old times.” Miranda smiled wanly before she disconnected. She liked Jacob—he was a good soldier, and she knew that if she spent more time with him, he’d be a good friend—but their lives were taking different routes. He seemed intent on forgetting about the Normandy and his time spent on it. She, on the other hand, had grown fond of some of the crew members. But then again, did she really have a choice in that fondness? Miranda didn’t suppose she did. Before the Normandy, the only other person she cared about was Oriana. Now…well. It felt odd, and it was more than a little distracting, but she liked those unexpected visits from her former crew-mates. She hadn’t realized how much she missed them.

The last person to visit was Samara. She came in late one night, exactly a month after Miranda started working on Shepard. After Miranda spoke to Jacob, she found herself in the hospital nearly twenty-four-seven, scanning Shepard’s body this way and that, trying to find some explanation as to why Shepard wasn’t waking up. Her abdomen wound had started closing up, her lung puncture was nearly healed, and her scars had faded, so it couldn’t have been from body trauma. The brain scans showed no major damage. No, the implants were the issue. They hadn’t failed: they were still working, keeping Shepard’s heart beating and her lungs full of oxygen. But they weren’t behaving properly either: if they were, Shepard would have been awake the second most of her major injuries were treated.

So Miranda slaved away in Shepard’s hospital room, running every test under the sun and still coming up empty-handed. She couldn’t even ask the doctors for help: they were her implants, her creation, and if she asked the medical staff for help, they wouldn’t have a clue as to how they could help. It all left Miranda tired and frustrated…and scared.

"Is that going to be it then, Shepard?” Miranda said the night Samara arrived, throwing her hands up in the air. She’d run another round of tests, trying to see if electro-shock therapy could get Shepard up, but still nothing. It was a long shot, anyway—electro-shock therapy stopped being used at all, even for mental illnesses, at some point in the 2080s—but after hitting every single wall in the maze, Miranda was fast running out of ideas. “Are you just going to lie there for the rest of your life?”

“That would be very unlike Shepard to do so,” Samara said, and Miranda jumped and turned around. “My apologies, Miranda. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Don’t worry about it, Samara,” Miranda said, putting the paperwork away and turning the lights up in the room ever so slightly. “But what are you doing here? Visitor’s hours ended a while ago.”

“I had thought you had left already,” Samara said. “I don’t know Earth time that well, but I believe twelve o’clock at night is rather late for humans.”

“Not just here in the hospital,” Miranda said. “But here on Earth. I thought you’d have returned to Thessia by now.”

“I thought so as well,” Samara said, crossing her hands behind her back and walking slowly towards Shepard’s bed. “But it seems that the relay damage has delayed my leave. And after I heard that Shepard was the one who set off the Crucible, I felt that I needed to see that she was all right.”

“I see,” Miranda said.

“But you didn’t answer my question,” Samara said.

“What question?”

“Why you’re still here instead of resting,” Samara said. “When I received the message about Shepard from Kasumi, I wanted to see her as soon as I was able. Kasumi said that you usually went home at eleven o’clock.”

“That’s what I usually do,” Miranda said, making a mental note to check the room to make sure Kasumi hadn’t cloaked herself without Miranda’s knowledge, “but…it’s funny, but as Shepard’s injuries have healed, I haven’t been as home as often as I should.”

“I see,” Samara said. Miranda felt her insides squirm. As much as she respected Samara, there was something about her that made Miranda nervous. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that Samara could kill Miranda for breaking asari law without any consequences, or perhaps it was because Samara’s eyes were so piercingly, unnaturally blue, almost the exact shade of her skin. Miranda wasn’t sure. She didn’t want to find out.

“You’ve done an excellent job with her,” Samara continued, gazing at Shepard. “I believe Shepard would be pleased to know that her friend is taking such care of her.”

“I’ve had practice,” Miranda said simply.

“Shepard mentioned you being the one who brought her back to life,” Samara said. “I imagine this project is easier for you.”

“It would be even easier if Shepard actually woke up,” Miranda said. She started pacing, twisting her fingers. Samara’s eyes followed her, but she stayed by the bed.

“It’s…” Miranda began, but then trailed off. How could she describe it? It wasn’t a coma, but it couldn’t be sleep either. A vegetative state? Was that what Shepard was going to be? Alive, but only by the loosest definition of the word?

“She’s not…I don’t know what’s wrong with her,” Miranda finally got out. “She didn’t score terribly on the Glasgow scale, but she didn’t score well either. But the doctors ran so many scans on her that they were able to rule out any sort of brain damage. It must be the implants that are the issue, but I don’t know what’s the matter with them.

“I’m the one who designed the implants, so why don’t I know what’s wrong? They want me to bring Shepard back again, but what if the first time was a fluke? What if she’s supposed to stay dead this time? I know I’m doing everything right, but the implants were supposed to wake her up the second her injuries started healing!” Miranda kept burbling on, coming up with different theories—had Wilson interfered during the Lazarus Project? Did the Illusive Man have some part in this? Did the Alliance?—when suddenly, Samara grabbed Miranda’s hands. Miranda stopped mid-sentence, finding herself face-to-face with Samara’s piercing eyes.

“Tell me, Miranda, when was the last time you slept?” Samara prodded. There was something almost motherly and tender in her tone that nearly made Miranda cry. Samara killed hundreds, if not thousands of people for the sake of preserving ancient justice, but Miranda had forgotten that Samara had been a mother before all of that.

“Do you want the last time I actually slept, or the last time I slept well?” Miranda asked. Samara gave her a sad little smile.

“Both,” she replied.

“Then I’m fairly certain you won’t like the answer for either of them.”

“Then perhaps you should get some rest,” Samara replied. “You’ll only injure yourself if you keep working like this.”

“I would,” Miranda said, letting go of Samara’s hands and stepping away. “But I can’t rest until I know Shepard will be all right.”

“You mean until she wakes up,” Samara said. She took a step closer to Miranda, closing the distance that Miranda created. “Tell me, Miranda: did you work yourself this hard when you were rebuilding Shepard?” Miranda paused. Truth be told, she had worked herself that hard in the beginning. She overworked herself in the three months before Shepard woke up as well, but she had no choice that time: she couldn’t risk Wilson waking her up again and nearly killing her. But those months in-between, when it was clear Shepard was healing and stable, she finally let herself relax. How could she not? Shepard would have been fine: the implants were placed and working well. But this was different: the implants were working, but as if they were at minimal power.

“If you’re worried about doctors interfering, you have no need to,” Samara said. “I will watch over Shepard until you return.”

“But what if something happens when I’m not here?” Miranda asked, looking down at Shepard. She looked peaceful, her black hair fanned out on her pillow, her breathing even and regular, but she kept thinking about the implants. What if they failed the second she stepped out of the hospital? If she didn’t get back quickly enough, there would be no chance of saving Shepard. All her hard work would be for nothing.

“You cannot keep thinking of the possibilities that something will go wrong,” Samara said. “Something could have gone wrong this past month, yet Shepard has remained stable. She is no danger if you step away for one night.”

“But what if it does?” Miranda said. “I know it’s stupid that I can’t trust my own handiwork, but—“

“Miranda,” Samara said. She placed her hand over Miranda’s again and rubbed her thumb over Miranda’s knuckles. “You have let yourself become overtired and over-paranoid. Once you have rested, you will be able to think clearly. Besides,” Samara said with another small smile, “even genetically-engineered humans need to get some sleep.” Miranda stepped away again and gave one last worrying look at Shepard. She took a deep breath.

“You promise to let me know in case anything bad happens?” Miranda asked. She hated how high and pleading her voice sounded—almost childlike—but she knew that Samara wasn’t going to let Miranda stay.

“You have my promise,” Samara said, walking to the chair and sitting on it in the lotus position. “Now go. Shepard will be safe under my watch.” Samara closed her eyes and lit up the dim room with her biotics. Miranda gave one last look at both of them before slowly walking out.

As she walked down the hallway and outside into the cool London air, it occurred to Miranda that for the first time in a month, it felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She inhaled sharply, taking in the smell of rain on concrete and the sharp scent of the takeaway places around her, before hailing a taxi to take her back to her apartment. She’d scarcely been in it since Hackett gave her the job.

She barely made it onto the couch before collapsing on the lopsided cushions and falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.

She didn’t wake up until evening the next day. Bleary-eyed, Miranda stretched and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms. The clock said six twenty-three. Miranda groaned. She ran her fingers through her hair and popped a few peppermints in her mouth before sprinting out of her apartment and back to the hospital.

She didn’t know why she rushed back. Shepard was still unconscious, her various monitors providing a beeping harmony in the background. Samara, by the looks of it, hadn’t moved either, still in the same position and chair she’d been in when Miranda left. Samara opened her eyes when she heard the door open.

“You should have phoned me when I didn’t turn up this morning,” Miranda said, running her omni-tool over Shepard’s body and checking all her vitals.

“I felt no need to,” Samara said. “Nothing about Shepard’s condition changed while you were away, and you needed the rest.” Miranda sighed. Samara was right on both counts.

Well, nearly right.

“Her implants are becoming more active,” Miranda said. She turned around to face Samara. “If they’re becoming more active, it means that they’re getting ready for when she’s conscious again.”

“I see,” Samara said. “Then the rest turned out to be good after all?”

"I…yes, that’s right,” Miranda said, turning around and facing her. “I suppose that running all those tests might have interfered with the implants.”

“Perhaps,” Samara said. “Or you two needed to spend some time apart.”

“A doctor and a patient spending time apart?” Miranda said. She crossed her arms as a smile tugged at her mouth.

“I remember my daughters fighting with each other about such trivial things,” Samara said. “I often needed to separate them before they would apologize to each other.”

Miranda chuckled. “I see,” she said. Samara nodded at her.

“I should take my leave now, Miranda,” Samara said. She gave her a pat on the shoulder before walking to the door. “I hope I see you again before I return to Thessia.”

"Same to you,” Miranda said. “And maybe I should tell Kasumi to send you in whenever I need to take a break.” A small smile flickered across Samara’s lips.

“Yes, that would be an excellent idea,” Samara said. “I will await her message. But in the meantime…good-bye, Miranda.” Miranda gave Samara a nod and watched the door close behind her. She turned back around to Shepard, pulling out her omni-tool to check her vitals again. As she walked over to Shepard’s head, she saw her eyelids begin to flutter and she let out a sharp breath.

Miranda’s jaw dropped.

#Mass Effect #mass effect fanfiction #mass effect fanfic #shenko #f!shenko #fshenko #femshep x kaidan #kaidan x femshep #Kaidan Alenko #femshep

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scarpool-gmk · 3 years

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Title: Godly Marine: Killed Author: Scarpool Fandom(s): NCIS, Percy Jackson & the Olympians Pairing(s): Gen Rating: PG/K+ Summary: Chapter 2 (3/13) — Staff Sergeant Michael Kahale, Marine Corps Mechanic and Son of Athena, was murdered. Annabeth Chase is determined to find out who did it and why. She, along with Percy Jackson, Grover Underwood, and Clarisse La Rue, infiltrate NCIS where they team up with NCIS Agents Leroy Gibbs, Anthony DiNozzo, Timothy McGee, and Ziva David. Complete Genre: Fanfiction, Mystery, Drama, Humour, General, Action Warnings: N/A

"Staff Sergeant Michael Kahale, aged twenty-one, born on March 15, 1988," said Tim, pulling up Kahale's I.D. on the plasma screen. "Joined the force when he was sixteen. Signed up as a machinist. Clean service record, and absolutely spectacular performance remarks."

"Background?" Gibbs asked.

"Uh…" Tim looked at Tony for help. Tony shrugged at him. Prick. "There wasn't really anything…"

"I think what McGee means to say," Tony said, exasperated, "is that there are barely any records before he enlisted. No high school. No college. Not even a sports club."

"Not even the car was his," Underwood piped up, getting off of his laptop. "I just ran the number of the car. It's a rental. Marko's High-Performance Cars of East Maryland run by a Mr. Marko Tarsibo."

Tony smiled, and Tim prepared to roll his eyes.

"Marko? Ah," Tony tried on his best Russian accent, "'It reminds me of the heady days of Sputnik and Yuri Gagarin when the world trembled at the sound of our rockets. Now they will tremble again - at the sound of our silence.'" He looked around expectantly, grinning, and was about to speak until Lima responded.

"The Hunt for Red October," she said. "Captain Marko Ramius."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow, and Tim smirked as Tony blinked away his surprise. "That's right. 1990. Sean Connery. Directed by-"

"John McTiernan," Lima finished for him.

"Nice," Tony said, "Are you a-"

"DiNozzo," Gibbs said. Tim swore he saw his boss flash a look at Lima that was far from gratifying.

"Right," Tony continued and snatched the remote out of Tim's hand. "The only records we could find were family members and profiles of his first six elementary schools."

Tim raised his eyebrows and turned to Gibbs. "Six schools in five years. Kindergarten to fourth grade. Looks like a troubled kid."

"Or a troubled family life," Gibbs said.

"The changes were definitely not about his grades," Jackson said with a grin, flashing his eyes to his boss who, to her credit, did not spare him a glance.

"Very true," Ziva said. "Kahale passed all of the knowledge evaluations with close to perfect scores getting maybe one or two wrong."

"Passed all of the Military's written exam bars with such great scores he was able to skip some basic classes. Guy's like the next Einstein, Boss," Tony said, "Genius."

Gibbs nodded slightly. "Anything else? Was there a missing child report?"

Tim looked at him, a bit anxious to persist with the bad news. "None, Boss, and it's like I said. No other information at all between his fourth-grade year and when he enlisted. It's like he didn't exist for about six years."

"Well, he had to have been somewhere," Ziva said matter-of-factly.

"And what could he have been doing?" Tim wondered. "Possible that he could have made enemies during this time, Boss?"

"And then went to hide from them by joining the corps?" the burly girl, La Rue, if Tim remembered correctly, asked skeptically and crossed her arms.

Ziva grabbed the TV remote from Tony. "The Sergeant's family lives in Baltimore."

"Mr. Johnathan Kahale, the father, is an esteemed lawyer for the private company, Lowe's Consultancy," La Rue stated, "His salary is two hundred eighty thousand. His step-mother, Patricia Kahale," Tim heard her voice turn a bit bitter, "is a salesperson for an insurance company. They have three kids together."

"Absolutely no information on his biological mother," Underwood said, albeit a bit nervously casting glances to Lima.

"Let's work our way through both of these missing timelines. Clarisse," Lima ordered, "go to the car rental. Get all the info you can, and find who gave him the car."

Tim saw his boss eye the young special agent. "DiNozzo," he said, "go with her."

Lima glanced at Gibbs with careful, calculating eyes. "And Percy, talk to the parents." She looked back at Gibbs, waiting for him to interject again.

He didn't say anything at first, and Tim held his breath for a second. Why is it always so tense?

"Ziva," he stated. Ziva nodded. Nobody moved. "Well? Move!" Everybody started scurrying to their assigned task.

Tim tried not to show how startled he was when Gibbs whispered at him. "Do a background check on them. I don't like not knowing who I'm really working with."

Tim nodded. Of course, Gibbs didn't trust the Long Island team.

"Lima!" Gibbs called, going up the stairs. "Come on."

And so, Tim was left alone with Agent Underwood, who had plopped himself on Tony's desk and was typing on his laptop.

-Λεον-

Was it him, or did his paperwork triple since yesterday? The director groaned, pulling a hand over his face, and glanced at a packet that had something to do with the FBI. It was huge, and it was just one packet in a mountain. His secretary swore that she has no recollection of it coming into his office. Leon glared at the pile conspiringly. Honestly, she probably had such a traumatic experience just by looking at the amount that her brain wiped the memory of the entire moment to spare itself. He hoped this was just some nightmare, but no…

Not to mention, he got a late notification this morning telling him of a joint assignment with the NCIS branch of Long Island. Which meant they were paired up with Gibbs. Which meant Gibbs was going to barge into his office like he owned the place and throw a hissy fit. Which meant his headache was going to get 10 times worse! Maybe Gibbs wouldn't drag in the Agent in charge of the Long Island team, so Vance didn't have to mend another relationship between agencies.

And just like that, his door was thrown open, and Gibbs sauntered in. "Speak of the devil," the director grumbled. At the corner of his eye, he saw a notification pop up on his computer screen, most likely his secretary apologizing again about Gibbs's intrusion.

"Good morning to you too, Director Vance," Gibbs said with a smile.

Leon Vance felt the blood leave his face. It was still morning? Aw, he swore it had been hours since- wait, Leroy Jethro Gibbs calling him by his given title? Oh no. And then he saw her. Blonde, lean, professional, young…a bit too young. He straightened up and looked her in the eyes, a startling grey. How interesting.

"Director Vance," the girl nodded in greeting.

Leon returned the nod, taking a side glance at Gibbs's fake smile, and offered his hand. "Yes, and you are?"

"Special Agent Anne Lima," she replied as she shook his hand, firm, meeting his eyes, confident, determined.

"Ah, from Long Island, yes?"

"That's right."

"Director," Gibbs said, "My team can handle this case."

Blunt as usual. "Well, Agent Gibbs," Leon quipped, "Extra hands are always a help and appreciated."

"Why wasn't I notified about this when I was told about the case?" Leon saw Gibbs's eye twitch.

"I just got the e-mail this morning, and unfortunately, wasn't able to see until later. But Gibbs, working with the Long Island branch opens a way to connect to our other fellow agents," Leon said sternly but kindly shot a smile to the girl. She raised an eyebrow.

Gibbs took that as a sign to interrogate the poor girl. "Why is Long Island interested in the Staff Sergeant?"

"Michael was stationed at a ship currently docked in Northern New Jersey. He also had other matters that had him in Long Island," Lima replied smoothly.

Gibbs was ready to grill her some more, but his cell phone rang. 'Thank God.'

He gave Agent Lima another distrustful glace before glancing at the caller ID. Gibbs opened his flip phone. "Yeah, Abbs?"

'Yes,' the Director thought, 'Leave it to Ms. Sciuto to save us.'

"Yeah, we'll be right there." He clicked his phone shut and headed for the door. "Come on," he ordered Lima. The girl glanced at Leon with an unimpressed look, before heading out the door Gibbs was holding open.

Leon stopped Gibbs before the man could leave. "I didn't appreciate you turning my office into an interrogation room; don't do it again."

Gibbs tilted his head in response and left.

Alone again, Leon allowed another sigh to escape him as he rubbed his temples. Gibbs was being Gibbs, and although he had to admit the toughness of Agent Lima to yet be unmoved by the man, Leon worried that her stubbornness would be too much like Gibbs. Just added stress…

Speaking of stress, Leon looked at the mountain of files on his desk. Gathering himself up, he picked one up. He opened it, made a face, and put it back down.

"I need a coffee," He muttered, 'Or something stronger.'

-Ζήβα-

Ziva decided that Jackson had a very likable personality. The two rode together to visit the Kahale family, and Ziva had opted to drive, receiving no argument from Jackson. However, she had not been able to get much information on the NCIS Long Island branch than what Lima had already told them.

"Well, I think your mother and I would get along very well," Ziva laughed as she walked up to the door of the house, locking the car behind her with the remote key. She knocked on the door, quickly assessing her surroundings. She saw Jackson casually glance through a window. She caught the grin he sent her way. No visual problems from the front door, then.

A couple seconds later, a woman's voice came through the door. "Who is it?"

"NCIS!" Ziva shouted through.

"IDs, please."

'So,' Ziva thought, 'this woman is one of those.' She and Jackson brought their Federal IDs to the peephole. They heard the click of a lock turning, and the door opened to reveal a young woman. Ziva recognized her from the rundown on the dead Sergeant. "Patricia Kahale?"

The woman stared at them through the parted gap of the doorway. "What do you want?"

"I am Agent Ziva David, and this is Agent Jackson. We are here to inform you about your son-er-stepson, Staff Sergeant Michael Kahale."

"What about him?" Mrs. Kahale asked tersely.

Ziva resisted an urge to sigh in exasperation. "If we can converse indoors, Mrs. Kahale," she said politely.

For a moment, the woman didn't move and only observed both of them. 'A suspicious woman?' Ziva noted. After supposedly deeming them trustworthy enough, she allowed them in her home. The dwelling was telling of an upper-middle-class family. There were pictures of the Kahale family among the house for display. They featured mostly of Patricia's and Johnathan's three kids, two boys and the youngest, a girl. Not one showed the face of Staff Sergeant Kahale. As Mrs. Kahale led them into the living room, Ziva found the house to be impeccably clean and organized. She remained standing, and so did the two NCIS agents. "What is it you wished to tell me?" the woman asked.

Ziva made a show of turning her head as if looking about. "Where is your husband and children, Mrs. Kahale?"

"Out," she said curtly, "Johnathan took the kids on a visit to the beach."

"Do you know when they'll be back?" Jackson asked bluntly.

"No," The woman eyed him, "Aren't you a little young to be a federal agent?"

Ziva caught Jackson stiffen. "Just look like it."

Ziva tried not to frown. Mrs. Kahale didn't seem to believe it.

"You never answered my question. Why are you here?"

Ziva sighed. "I regret to inform you, ma'am, that your step-son, Michael, was found dead this morning."

Patricia Kahale closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Michael? Michael is dead for sure?"

"We are sorry for your loss," Ziva consoled, even as Mrs. Kahale was shaking her head.

"I didn't really know him. I didn't even know he joined the corps. I haven't seen him for years."

Jackson nodded. Ziva stared at him to see if he was going to ask any questions. She internally sighed when he remained silent, looking just a bit awkward- and kind of dumb, too, just standing there.

"We noticed that your step-son disappears on record for a period of nine years. May you explain why that is?"

"I think that is a question for my husband."

Ziva raised an elegant eyebrow at the quickness of her response. "Oh, why is that? Does your husband know where his son went?"

"No." Mrs. Kahale started to head for the door, "He ran off years ago, now I think you should leave. I don't have anything more to say about the boy."

Ziva took the hint but took her time to rattle off a couple more questions, "There was no report of the disappearance."

"We did report it, we were never contacted," the woman responded, as she held the door open for them.

"We will also need someone to confirm the identity of the body, Ziva said as she went back outside.

"Call us," Mrs. Kahale all but shot back.

As Jackson passed the lady out the door, he said, "Thank you for your time."

The woman grunted and shut the door. The lock clicked back into place.

"What a nice lady," Jackson lamented.

Ziva scowled at him, "What was that?"

"Looks like she didn't like us much."

"Obviously. No, I'm talking about you. You weren't much help!"

Jackson had the gall to look surprised, "You had it!"

"Well, someone had to," Ziva shook her head, feeling disappointed. "Anyway, I have a feeling that Mrs. Kahale does not care much about her step-son, and from the way she threw us out- it seems she might be hiding something."

"Did you see the knife?" Jackson asked, acting nonchalant.

Ziva was thrown off guard, "What? Where?"

"The table by the entrance," Jackson said, "It's probably nothing, just forget about it."

Ziva wasn't deterred, "Really? On the table?" Ziva tried to remember. She may have seen something shine in the light, but she must not have noticed it. Was she getting rusty? "What is it doing there?"

"Nothing, probably just a fancy envelope opener."

Ziva sent a look at him.

Jackson shifted on his feet for a bit. "So, what do we do now?"

Ziva sighed, thinking about what she had to tell Gibbs, "I must report back to Gibbs and then call Mr. Kahale."

"Let's go then, I'll drive."

Ziva's brows furrowed into a small frown as Jackson practically raced to the car. He was hiding something. But what? And what was the significance of the dagger? She had a strong feeling these agents from Long Island were not telling them everything.

-Κλαρίς-

Clarisse did not enjoy her car ride. Her first opinion on this 'Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo' was that he was a complete doofus. And he was, but it was made clear why he had gotten to be a top agent. His tactic was to play the completely dumb chatterbox, and boy could he talk like a daughter of Athena in a museum, but that was just a ploy to get others to talk to him as well. This was an interrogation. And Clarisse had gotten pissed off. She did not like being interrogated by some snobby, stuffed up Agent. And she especially hated how he had done it. If Clarisse La Rue was to be interrogated, then let it be straight up. No descendant of the Ares was going to tolerate such a petty approach.

So, she had told him to 'shut up or else.'

Ah, sweet silence.

DiNozzo broke that with a whistle of appreciation as they finally drove into the Rental estate. It wasn't hard to figure out why. Rows of high-performance sports cars were displayed for customers.

"Wow!" Agent DiNozzo exclaimed as he parked the car. Clarisse rolled her eyes as she saw him slide on some sunglasses dramatically and walk up to a sleek, red Ferrari. "Wow!" He repeated. He checked his reflection in its tinted windows. Clarisse frowned slightly as he pulled his phone out to take a selfie.

"Come on," she huffed at him, "We're supposed to interview why Michael was here, not take selfies of cars we can't afford." She looked at a description of a Lamborghini, "Besides, what are you going to do with 600 horsepower, go from one red light to the next red light?"

"Ah, it's about the display, the comfort, the thrill on the highway, the style." DiNozzo lifted an eyebrow and grinned at his phone, most likely looking at his newest selfies. "Besides, you got to learn how to take a break from time to time."

Clarisse scowled and led the way into the dealership building, leaving the older Agent to trail behind her at a slow pace still taking in the sights. She entered the building and breathed in the cool air. Though once the door closed behind her, she tensed and didn't move a muscle.

DiNozzo charged through the door still talking. "You know, taking breaks during work is suggested. It can be a stressful job and-"

"Sh!" Clarisse snapped.

DiNozzo blinked in surprise. "You know, I think we started off on the wrong foot," he began.

"No," Clarisse whispered, "It's not that."

DiNozzo frowned, "Why are we whispering?"

"Do you hear that?" Clarisse asked.

Clarisse's ears rang a little as DiNozzo took a couple seconds to listen. "I don't hear anything."

"Exactly."

"Manager could just be in his office?" DiNozzo mused, but even still, he nodded.

"Hello?" He called out. "Mr. Tarsibo?"

Clarisse moved towards a glass window, facing the street. They were right by a busy street intersection, too.

An office door opened as a man pushed his way out and quickly shut the door behind him. "My apologies, I had a customer to attend to."

Clarisse's senses prickled, "A customer?" she asked, glancing around the empty building.

The man smiled, "Yes, he was otherwise engaged and did his business through call. I am Marko Tarsibo, by the way," He held his hand out, "How may I help you?"

"Mr. Tarsibo," Agent DiNozzo replied as he shook the proffered hand, "I am Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo from NCIS, and this is Agent Clarisse La Rue."

"Federal Agents," Tarsibo acknowledged, his shake strong and confident, "What seems to be the issue?"

"Unfortunately," DiNozzo explained, "Your car was found in a crash site."

"Crashed? How horrible! But no worries, I have procedures in place for such a situation. The renter does sign a form and all that jazz. Come and sit, and I can give you any additional information you want."

He directed them to the front desk.

"Yes, thank you," DiNozzo said, "We would like to confirm the lessee of the car."

"Of course, I hope the person was not critically injured by the crash. Do you have a plate number or anything I can go by?"

DiNozzo brought the plate number and other such identification numbers up on his phone.

As they sat there, Clarisse observed the area of the main desk. It was pretty bland except for the assortment of mini flags. She was able to identify the American flag as well as the French and even the Greek flag. There were a couple more she really didn't recognize- maybe that one was Finnish. She saw another with a horse and rider. She tilted her head a bit. Did that one have Greek words on it? Before she could read it, Mr. Tarsibo exclaimed, "Yes! Here we are. A Mr. Michael Kahale was the client. I remember him. Yes, a marine, was he? Is he alright?"

"He did not make it," DiNozzo responded.

"We are currently investigating his death," Clarisse added, "How did you know he was a Marine?"

Mr. Tarsibo directed his smile to her, "We have a discount for members of the service and veterans here. Proper ID is required."

"Can you tell us about your interaction with Staff Sergeant Kahale, Mr. Tarsibo?" Agent DiNozzo asked.

"It was very brief," Mr. Tarsibo said, "He was simply looking for a quality car for his time here. Nothing out of the ordinary at all."

"When was he here?"

"Two days ago. Sometime in the afternoon. Let me give you the time from the sale."

Mr. Tarsibo quickly printed out a log and handed it to them. "Will there be anything else today, agents?"

"No," Agent DiNozzo said with a smile of his own and offered his card. "Thank you for your time, and please don't hesitate to give us a call if you remember anything."

"It was no problem, and if you ever need to rent a car, I would be happy to offer discounts to federal agents as well."

Mr. Tarsibo's warm smile led them all the way out.

The blast of noise when Clarisse stepped outside was welcoming. She took a deep breath of fresh air.

Agent DiNozzo walked up behind her. "What was up with you and Mr. Smiles in there?"

Clarisse glared at him. "I don't trust him. He's slimy. I don't know what it is; maybe he's not sharing everything or something.

"I understand the distrust. But he is a car dealer. It is natural to feel that, but maybe try not to be so aggressive next time."

"Whatever," Clarisse growled. She snatched the car keys out of his hands. No way was she just going to sit in a car for another two hours doing nothing.

"I'm driving."

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#scarpool #fanfic #fanfiction #Godly Marine: Killed #NCIS #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #PJO #Crossover #gen fic #PG/K+#Writing #Complete

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matt0044 · 3 years

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“Loose Ends” an Astra: Lost In Space One-Shot by matt0044

Each parent sat down at the Caird High School Meeting Room table wearing a solemn yet firm facade. Between Sofie Lacroix and Emma Spring, it was prime to keep up appearances for the sake of silently mourning for their "children." The reality was that they couldn't believe that they had gotten away with disposing of their clones. Whatever somberness that appeared on their faces was more of disappointment. All of those long years and effort creating a new life. Trashed.

"As much as we might've hoped for the best," Emma Spring heard Marco Esposito expound, "it's time that we stopped delaying the inevitable." She clenched the form handed out to her with a solemn expression, hoping not to give away her true grief. "Once you sign these forms, the Adjudication of Disappearance will be set in stone for our children and make them legally dead." Her mind drifted back to Seria and the promise that she made. The promise she failed to keep.

"What a shame," Jed Walker sighed with his usual straight-forward tone, signing his form. "I had such hopes for my boy." He eyed Olive Raffaeli next to him, speaking in vague enough term. "Speak for yourself," she replied indignantly yet quietly, signing off her own paper. "Quitterie was just barely scraping by academically." The nurse put her paper out onto the center where it'd be collected, trying to ignore Mister Walker. "The transfer would've been far too obvious."

Rei Hoshijima scoffed at the bickering old couple to his left. "Then you should've kept a better look at her personal life," he claimed, signing his paper. "Wei Lu was smart enough to keep her's as an unknown nobody." He eyed the famous singer just across from him next to Emma. "And you put Kanata through the wringer from what I heard," Gert Zweig remarked next to him. "Not that I fault you for trying to play catch up but you might've risked drawing attention to us."

Just as Gert signed off on his form, he felt his phone beginning to vibrate... along with everybody else's eerily enough. On top of that, they all could've sworn they had switched the devices off. After sharing a glance of confusion between each other, each adult in the room pulled out their smartphones and found an totally unknown caller on their FaceTime. They glanced at each other's phones to find the same screen showing just the same. Soon enough, they all answered.

"Did you miss us?" Kanata Hoshijima quipped with a cocky rise of his eyebrow upon appear on each screen. A wave of confusion washed all over the adults simultaneously followed by a bigger wave of dread in tandem. All except for Emma and Sofie who were just plain confused. "Seriously?" a young male voice chimed in with a deadpan tone similar to Jed's. "That's your opening line?" The adult in question's formal facade shattered upon recognizing his son. "Zack?!"

Kanata rolled his eyes at his first mate's backchat. "I know it's cliche but it was right there," he retorted defensively. "S-son?" Rei managed to speak out. "You're alive?" Kanata turned back to their screen with a cheeky grin. "Quite the plot twist, huh?" his clone replied with a devil-may-care attitude. "One minute we were on our way to camp, the next we're on a space voyage back to Astra." Rei shared his confused dread with his fellow conspirators before Jed spoke up.

"What do you mean by... 'space voyage'?" Jed Walker inquired, sounding fascinated in spite of his fear. Sure enough, Zack's face switched out with Kanata on their screens. "Without getting into the details, a wormhole on Mcpa sent us approximately 5,000 light years into space," he spoke in his usual matter-of-fact manner. "Thankfully, there was an abandoned vessel nearby that provided a viable route back." He adjusted his glasses. "Quite the coincidence if you ask me."

Olive did her best to keep some semblance of composure. "Yes... whatever were the odds?" she glanced ever so slightly towards Jed with a glare in her eyes. They had been told of the true home-world of humanity by the Vixian Archives in their efforts to bury any leads. They knew that not all ships had cleared orbit before the meteor struck Earth. What they didn't know that one was apparently still operational. Nor that their clones would actually survive to use one period.

Jed could see the look in Olive's eyes. In fact, he felt everyone else in on the plan glaring at him, as if silently demanding to know what their plan B is. Problem was that there was never a plan be. Charce was suppose to have done he and his fellow clones in when he had the chance. Even with their Crust Suits activated, their oxygen was finite for it to just delay the inevitable. However, he gave them a reassuring glance to promise that they would adapt to this in time.

"Where's everybody else?" Emma desperately spoke up to break the silence. "Please tell me that Aeris made it." Zack genuinely smiled at her than he had before. "I can assure you that we all made it through, Ms. Spring." Both Emma and Sofie were the only ones to let out a sigh of relief. "They're all packing up their stuff for when we touch down on Astra." Neither woman had ever felt more relieved in the last year than they had now. "We're checking communications."

Marco Esposito finally spoke up after composing himself like the politician he was. "Well, I'm certain that I speak for everybody here when I say that this is nothing short of miraculous," he proclaimed with a proud smile hiding his own dread. "If I may suggest, I can personally call the Space Port to fly you in." The unscrupulous man shared his fake expression with everybody else as if to reassure his co-conspirators of a way out. "Just let us know when you're landing."

Each adult began to see where Marco was going with this as they gulped hopefully. If he could tip off the military as to a threat up in orbit, they could mistake the ship for a unidentified flying object. The destruction of the ship would incinerate each and everybody on board without even a trace of their DNA. None of the kids would suspect a thing until it was far too late. With any further luck, nobody would know that their children had actually commandeered a space-ship.

"Oh, we'll land this crate when we're good and ready," Kanata answered as the screens switched back to him. "Specifically once you're behind bars." A sudden chill came over the adults as their facades fully crumbled like cookies in milk before Zack appeared on Jed's phone primarily. "Between illegal genetic cloning as well as attempted premeditated murder of nine minors, I imagine you each face a life sentence." For the first time, his father's face displayed unmitigated horror.

"This... can't be..." Emma began to speak up, starting to put the pieces together. She looked around the room at the adult around her and found their expressions to match her distress but with a dash of pure dread. "You were all part of the king's plan?" the former servant exclaimed. Her mind soon realized how much of a family resemblance there was among the others and their children. The reactions of astonishment sent her way all but confirmed her revelation.

"Charce filled us in on the details but we managed to do most of the deduction ourselves," Aires spoke softly as her face appeared on Emma's phone. "I even have it all jotted down in my extensive diary." Just the sight of her little girl before her brought the former servant to tears. "We've been told about Princess Seria and the risks you took just for her clone." It was a relief to know that her highness didn't leave this world in vain that she didn't bother to wipe her face.

"Just what sort of prank are you trying to pull?" Olive declared at Zack, slamming her fist on the table. "Where did this 'cloning' come from?" As if on cue, Quitterie's scowl flash upon her phone specifically. "Zack analyzed my DNA along with Funicia and found an exact match," she declared with barely restrained anger. "We even lucked out with Yun-Hua and Ulgar to prove it beyond doubt." Her original found herself actually intimidated by her daughter, unable to speak.

"This was what Finn died for, wasn't it?" Ulgar spitefully spoke upon appearing on Gert's phone, his fury on full display. "He blew the lid clean off of your little scheme through Esposito and had to 'commit suicide' all just to save your own skins." The vice principal felt his palms perspire and his breath becoming sparse as his clone dressed him down thoroughly. "Your own son was a small enough price to pay for your sick attempt at immortality." His phone slipped from his grip.

"This isn't happening," Macro Esposito stammered, still in denial. "Charce should've finished you off, ship or no ship!" Sofie finally found her voice upon hearing her adoptive son's voice. "He was in on this too?!" she exclaimed, still wrapping her head around all of this before his face appeared on her phone. "As King Vix's vessel, I was aware of what I was," he began with a solemn look in his eye, "and what I was tasked with." His adoptive mother once again had no words.

"Thankfully, the power of friendship prevailed and helped him see the light," Luca cut in almost too casual, flashing upon his father's phone. "Some cheesy melodrama like that." His adoptive father was bewildered by how casual he was being about it, shrugging it off. "You had to be there." Said bewilderment morphed almost seamlessly into a panicked fit. "That's impossible," he stammered. "This is impossible." His breath became shortened. "You are impossible."

Yun-Hua Lu appeared on Wei Lu's phone, the celebrity only surprised by her daughter's makeover. "We felt the same when we put it all together," she began somberly, visibly restraining her true emotions. "Few of your were ever ideal parents but we had hope." Yun-Hua darted her eyes around in discomfort, barely able to stand looking at her original. "Hope that... you'd miss us and make amends as our family," she tried continued, "but you weren't even that, were you?"

A loud slam on the table made everybody jump before they turned straight at a livid Olive. "Of course we weren't," she viciously torn into them, staring directly at Quitterie with the utmost contempt. "You're all clones, doubles, knock-offs." All of her bottled up frustration just gusted out like an endless geyser. "Your job was being our second chance at life until that DNA Collection Process law." A concerned Jed tried to put his hand on her shoulder only for her to swat him away.

"That is all you are!" Olive pressed on, emphasizing every word with her anger. "That is all you will ever be!" She turned her head all around to address the entire crew of the Astra. "Nothing more than glorified meat suits to slip into once we were all past our prime!" A near lifetime of aggravation was finally being unloaded the more she spoke. "So go ahead and call the cops on us because it won't change who you are: a collection of cells fashioned into pale imitations!"

A long moment of stunned silence over Olive's tirade followed both in the room and among their clones while she finally relaxed into their chair. None of the originals dared to dispute her but hardly expected such frustration to boil over. "Better a knock-off than the real thing, toots!" a foul-mouthed male voice spoke up as a pouty Funicia appeared on her mother's phone, her Beego puppet doing the talking. "Coming from you, 'pale imitation' is a real compliment in my book."

The originals were all surprised when a pale faced woman appeared on their phones in place of their children. "These children are far more than just duplicates for your schemes," she spoke in a deep yet almost alien accent. "They went out of their way to save my life and are far more selfless than you'd even hope to be." After sharing his confusion with the others, Jed was the first to speak up in fascination. "And just who might you be?" he asked, sounding almost too calm.

"Paulina Levinskaya," she declared with a strong look in her eye, "the last true Earthling."

While the term itself left most confused, Macro did his best to compose himself by wiping his sweaty brow. "Now let's all be reasonable here," he said in an attempt to mask his crushing fear. "There's no need to do or say anything we might regret when a compromise is possible." He looked across at his fellow co-conspirators for any sign of support amongst their mix emotions. "Wow, a politician trying to bribe his way out of trouble," Luca snarked, "big friggin' surprise."

A slammed fist on the table got all eyes on an angered Emma Spring. "How can you suggest such a thing?" she demanded with sudden surge of emotion not unlike Olive's. "You all tried to dispose of your own children when they were too inconvenient for you." Her regal dialect was beginning to show in her choice of words. "You think you can just buy their silence?" Sofie chimed in with her own indignant scowl. "The minute they land, their DNA will be processed in any case."

Jed Walker smirked ever so slightly. "Not unless we were to report them as alien threats," he suggested with a scheming look in his eyes. "I'm sure Mr. Esposito has the connections to trigger a Def-Con Two if we're lucky." Emma shot him a look of disgust. "Have you all no shame?" she demanded rhetorically. "Those are your children." Jed shot back a look of confidence. "Children who've become 'too inconvenient' as you eloquently put it earlier," he smarmily quipped back at her.

"Destruction or leaving well enough alone," Marco Esposito spoke back with Jed's brand of confidence to Luca along with the rest of the crew. "Sounds like a stalemate if I've ever heard one." He could see the beads of sweat going down his adoptive son's head. "So what do you say?" the pitiful politician proclaimed to the Astra crew as a whole. "Do we have a deal or do we have a deal?" The room remained silent for a few seconds as the originals felt a touch more hopeful.

"Perhaps we should ask the good detective what he thinks first?" Kanata suggested with a sly smile, appearing on everyone's phone once more.

Right on cue, the meeting room's door flung open to unleash multiple police officers like water bursting from a dam. The originals barely had time to react even as they surrounded the table itself and allowed a smartly dressed man in a trench coat stroll in. "With the exceptions of Emma Spring and Sofie Lacroix," Detective Grace declared, pushing up his glasses, "every single one of you are under-arrest for illegal genetic science in conjunction with an attempt at filicide."

The full gravity of the adults' consequences came crashing down upon them like boulders as they realized that they'd been strung along. "The police'd found our story a bit hard to swallow without a vocal confession," Zack explained in his usual matter-of-fact manner. "So I hacked into your phones to meet their requirements." They all looked at their phones to find Jed's clone on all of their screen. "Not too bad for computers well past their sell-by date if you ask me."

Kanata appeared on each screen once more with a mean look in his eye. "However, more than anything, we wanted to let you know just how much your screwed up," he declared, dropping his dopey demeanor. "A way to break all ties before starting our new lives." Rei could tell that his clone was looking more intently at himself. "You might've created us," the young captain began, his tone rising, "but you will ever never be us." Ever phone turned off one second later.

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astraeagreengrass · 4 years

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Hope Springs Eternal

Bucky Barnes has one last thing he needs to do before he goes to war

Pairing: 1940s!Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 2.583

Warnings: angst, mentions of war and war-related themes, light smut - not explict, but please don’t read if you’re under 18!

A/N: This is my extremely late submission for @thinkoutsidethebex’s 600 Follower Writing Challenge - thank you Bex for having me! Special thanks to @xbuchananbarnes for proof-reading this. This story is part of When The World Was At War We Kept Dancing, but can totally be read as a stand-alone. The banner picture was found here. I hope you like it ♡

It was an ordinary wedding.

Early Sunday afternoon, in a tiny church in Prospect Park. The ceremony was brief, less than thirty minutes long, presided by a minister that confused your last names.

"Barlow sounds nothin' like Barnes,” you heard Steve grumble from Bucky's left, cut off by Becca's loud shush. You didn't have it in your heart to rebuke the priest: your wedding was his fourth of the day, and he still had a dozen or so more to go ahead of the sunset. Besides, he'd been kind enough to move the nuptials forward when Bucky's furlough dates changed, so you could grant him that mishap.

The groom wore his army greens. Olive jacket and pants, shirt and necktie in shades to match. The gold buttons shone bright and brand new, like American glory. The long months at Camp McCoy had changed Bucky - his hair was shorter, his shoulders broader, his palms rougher. You'd waved goodbye to a man in November and welcomed another in June: a Sergeant, with a suit and cap to match his responsibilities.

You felt the calluses as you slid the ring on the left finger of his right hand - the same hand he now used to reload bullets and pull triggers. According to Steve, Bucky must’ve been extremely good at it, otherwise they’d never have promoted a young, conscripted soldier like him to Sergeant so quickly.

You wanted to be happy about it. To not feel an atom of fear as the minister declared you husband and wife. To not tremble behind your veil or choke in the words you had to repeat. There was no time for personal vows - too many women in white were waiting to walk down that aisle, wondering if they'd only ever be granted two weeks with their spouses before a war they never asked for ended their marriages that never had a proper chance to start.

Uncertainty was a typewritten letter on military-stamped stationery, a snow-barren Wisconsin field, a ship departing to England on the fifteenth morning of July. It left a bitter taste in your mouth when you and Bucky kissed for the first time before God, your families and your country. From that moment on, you were his and he was yours, the minister said.

You just couldn't shake the feeling that maybe he was more theirs than he was yours.

My love,

In seventeen hours, I’ll be home. One last bus trip and one last train ride until I see your face again. This letter will probably arrive at your doorstep after I do - and by then I hope you’re not there anymore. I hope it gets lost in the mail because you’ve changed your name and moved to the home you’ll share with your husband. And I hope you know that lucky bastard will be sure to tell the postman you’re Mrs. Barnes now. Y/N Barnes. It sounds pretty good if you ask me.

“Promise me you’ll write as soon as you get there?” you asked.

The train’s whistle drowned out Bucky’s answer, and you grimaced, muffling out the deafening noise with your gloved hands.

When it was over, Bucky gently removed your palms from your ears and laced them with his. He gently pressed his thumb to the knuckle of your finger, feeling the ring underneath the fabric. It was a simple band with no stone, far from luxurious but still more expensive than he could afford. He was almost embarrassed as he proposed, mumbling about the ring “not being enough” for you, but you shushed him with a kiss, whispering that you’d marry him with a twisted piece of wire.

“I’ll write to you everyday until I get home,” he promised. “You’ll beg the postman to stop delivering my letters.”

“Never,” you swore.

Three minutes to nine and you were one of the last couples lingering at the platform. Bucky's train would leave at the top of the hour to Chicago, and from there he'd go to Camp McCoy in Wisconsin until the army granted him a short furlough before the eventual departure to Europe. You were trying awfully hard not to think about that last part.

“I’ll miss you, Jimmy,” you said, holding back tears.

A shadow of a smile bloomed on the corner of his lips. Your handsome soldier - strong and unwavering, even as the unknown lurked on the corner of his life.

“I’ll miss you a lot more, doll,” he declared, pulling you in for a hug.

“Impossible,” you replied, voice muffled by his jacket.

Bucky grinned.

“Wanna bet a dance on that?”

The train whistled one more time and the railway man started screaming for the last passengers to board. Your answer was lost to the smoke billowing from the locomotive.

“Take care of my girl for me, will ya? If anyone gives her trouble, tell ‘em her man’s away at training camp. He’ll be back before she knows it.”

You rolled your eyes.

“She’ll be fine. Just hurry home.”

One last peck and Bucky was gone, the last passenger in before the train door shut with a bang that echoed in your heart. You waved at your fiancé from the edge of the platform until his figure was long gone, the engagement ring he gave you weighting your hand down with all the promises this war was daring him to keep.

My journey home seems longer than wintertime in Wisconsin. Did I ever tell you that there was still some ice on the ground in early April? I thought nothing would ever bloom in that place, but then some daisies sprouted on a patch of grass near the barracks a couple of weeks ago. They reminded me of Mrs. Roberts and the daisies she used to keep at the front windowsill of the boarding house. Are they still there? Do you think you’d like to have some daisies at our house? Or maybe roses?

The conscription letter burned a hole in Bucky's pocket.

He swore he could smell it, even. There was something foul prickling his nose and he thought it was the letter aflame, scorching the paper, his pants, his life. It's what he wished he'd done to it, anyway: set the rough parchment on fire like he would a cheap cigarette, then step on the stub for good measure, but it was useless.

The letter was Bucky and Bucky was the letter. It'd given him a number made of ashes, and now he was no longer man - he was ember, stoking the flames of the fire that laid waste to his world and time.

All the way to the boarding house you called home, Bucky thought of Steve. He'd hate that Bucky was drafted - to the 107th, no less - and he wasn't. It would only make him restless, even more determined to join a war that Bucky wanted no part of. And he hated the part of him that was envious of Steve's bravery right now, because the other part was busy making plans to run away with you to Mexico.

Bucky was supposed to marry you, not sail across the Atlantic. You'd been dating for over two years and he'd saved enough money for an apartment. His Ma kept complaining about grandchildren and Becca resorted to dropping not so subtle hints over Sunday lunch, like if you'd rather have emeralds or sapphires on your engagement ring. His savings weren't enough for neither, but Bucky still hoped you'd take him as your husband.

Hope was a funny thing for a young man like Bucky Barnes to have in 1942. Hope that you'd marry him. Hope that Steve wouldn't find a way to join the Army. Hope that he wouldn't lay to rest in a shallow grave with hundreds of other men in Europe.

Mrs. Roberts, the landlady of your boarding house, was tending to her daisies when he approached. She was a grouchy old woman whose husband died in the Great War - the greatest one so far, at least - who ignored Bucky most days, unless he did something she considered incredibly scandalous, like bring you home after 10 P.M. Today, however, she cast him a glance from behind the bushes.

“Well then,” she started. “They called ya name, didn’t they?”

Bucky was confused.

“I’m sorry?”

“I’ve seen that look on your face before,” Mrs. Roberts said, plucking a flower from the stem with a pair of gardening scissors. “It was the same look my husband had when he came out that very door to get the mail one morning and found out he’d been conscripted.”

She waved to the front door of the boarding house with the hand that still held the scissors.

“How are you planning to tell her?”

Bucky cleared his throat.

“I’m not sure yet.”

The woman shook her head.

“There’s no easy way to do it - and I mean all of it. Wars are nasty things, son. No one really wins them.”

In a fraction of a second, Bucky thought he could see a young Mrs. Roberts, before the grief and the heartache, yet as quickly as it came, it disappeared.

“I’ll marry Y/N before I go,” he declared with all the certainty he could muster, but his promise sounded empty.

Mrs. Roberts smiled, and before then Bucky never knew that a smile could be sadder than tears.

“Just don’t forget to come home to her.”

Whatever you want, we’ll have it. One of the boys in my regiment said you should toss rice on the newlywed couple as soon as they leave the church, did you know about that? According to him, it’s good fortune. Or maybe he was just teasing me (‘cause he said something about a garter belt, as well. Now, I am no Becca Barnes, wedding expert, but I’m sure that can’t exist).

You and your husband walked out of the church hand in hand, under a soft smattering of rice thrown by your few guests.

He kissed you under the arched entryway, pulling you in against his chest with more vigor and less modesty than he had on the inside. The buttons of his green jacket pressed your breastbone through the fabric of your dress.

Steve was the first to congratulate you, hugging you and Bucky at the same time. You were surprised to see that, behind him, Ms. Roberts was discreetly wiping her tears. Bucky’s mother Winnifred was delighted, cheerfully announcing to the guests of the next wedding: “Look at my children!”

There was no reception or party. The greetings at the front lawn of the church were brief, and soon another bride was walking down the aisle and Bucky was holding the door of a taxi open for you.

"You look beautiful, Mrs. Barnes," he whispered in your ear as Brooklyn rushed by.

The apartment was a small two-bedroom on the third floor of a building that probably housed more people than it should, yet, in your eyes, it was perfect - even with the handed down pots and pans, and the two or three boxes of clothing you hadn't had the time to unpack the previous week. It was simple, modest and perhaps a little messy, but it was yours.

Bucky surprised you by lifting you in his arms and carrying you through the threshold. Your giggles echoed off the walls, dissolving in a sigh when he laid you gently on the bed. The sheets smelled like him from having slept on them the night ahead, comforting you. It wasn't the first time you and Bucky had sex, but it was the first time you'd do in your own home, your own bed, as husband and wife. This realization brought a shiver down your spine.

He took your shoes off, placing them on the floor with care before running his hands carefully up your ankles and calves, through the light fabric of your stockings. When he got to your knees, Bucky pushed the white fabric of your dress skirt away just far enough that he could graze your thighs, until his fingers brushed your garter belt.

He grinned, blue mischief tinkling is his gaze.

"I knew it!"

You wanted to hide your face in embarrassment, and curse Becca for having such a terrible idea in the first place, yet Bucky was quicker, pulling the garter down with the left stocking and then quickly reaching for the right one. He turned the strip of lace in his hand, a sly smirk in his pink lips.

You rose to your knees, pulling him to you by the green tie. You ripped the jacket from his shoulders with such force that some of the gold buttons flickered to the ground in twinkling melody. The bed creaked and Bucky laughed at your eagerness:

"Did you miss me?"

"Yes," you breathed into his collaborne, pressing kisses in whatever bit of skin you could find.

“Do you love me?”

“Lots more.”

His deft fingers found the zipper of your dress, and he pulled apart just enough to undress you. Your lingerie was made of the same fabric as the garter belt, and Bucky's eyes widened.

"How did I get so lucky?" he breathed.

The muscles of his back hypnotized you as he took off his shirt, dragging you to his lap, legs tangling together in the mattress. Your nails left indents on his biceps and a twisted thought occurred to you that maybe they could stay there forever.

That way even Death herself would know Bucky was yours, and wouldn't dare take him from you.

“Touch me,” you gasped. “Touch me, James, please.”

Your lovemaking was lascivious and fast. You and Bucky had been apart for too long and there was too much frustration, absence and lust clouding your judgements. Tiny droplets of sweat descended from the underside of your chin down your throat and the valley of your breasts, which were pressed firmly against Bucky’s chest. You wanted to keep your eyes open, to record in your memory the way his hands gripped your waist and his hips girated against yours, but the absolute ecstasy of having him again was nearly maddening.

Bucky came mere just seconds after you did, groaning curses in your temple. Your tired bodies collapsed in the bed, yet your feet were still somehow entwined, making it look more of a tumble and less of a graceful catch of breath. The late afternoon sun reflected on your husband's wedding ring and you wondered how long it would take for him to have a tan line.

Bucky pulled you to him and you rested your forehead on his shoulder.

"I love you," he said.

You didn’t reply, instead just breathed in the salt on his skin. After the pictures, the greetings and the sex, fear showed it’s ugly face again. You weren’t religious, but you found yourself hiding in the crook of Bucky’s neck, praying to the same God that united the two of you in matrimony.

Please don’t take my husband away from me.

I want more than two weeks.

I want a life.

Bucky called your name, raising your chin with the tip of his forefinger.

“I love you,” he repeated. Then smiled: “Mrs. Barnes.”

Something in the sound of it made you believe that everything would be alright.

“I love you too, Mr. Barnes,” you laughed. “I really do.”

I guess I'll see for myself when I arrive. It won't be long now, darling. Wait for me, I’m almost home.

Always yours,

Bucky

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #1940s!bucky x reader #40s!bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #corneliabarnes #my writing #hope springs eternal

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thestuckylibrary · 4 years

Text

A Year in Reading: 2019 - Blue

So real life kind of kicked our asses in 2019 and we weren’t able to keep up with the monthly Mods’ Reads posts. We’ve gotten some questions about them and we still intend to keep them a thing, hopefully, in 2020. But for now, this will have to do. Below the cut is everything I’ve read in the past year:

(It’s a long list and I may have missed some things we try and warn for, so make sure to check tags and warnings on any fics that catch your eye <3)

January

Slainte mhaith by Speranza (oneshot | 1,180 | M)

Under the Bridges of Fame by alby_mangroves, notlucy (complete | 89,678 | E)

For better or for worse (usually worse), Steve Rogers has been the most famous guy in the room for a while. And though newsreels have given way to YouTube, people’s reactions haven’t changed much in seventy-some years. Steve’s become an expert at keeping his head down and getting on with his life.

A head-on collision on a busy street sends books flying and sweeps Steve off his feet. The point of impact has a name: James. A charming mess of long hair, thick glasses, and a crooked, not-quite-smile. If he recognizes Steve, he chooses not to comment, placing him firmly in Steve’s good graces.

As far as Steve can tell, they might be Bogie and Bacall all over again, save for the group of idiots with selfie sticks who surround them. But for once, the request isn’t for Steve.

Which begs the question: if James is James, then who the hell is Bucky?

So, You’ve Adopted a Fruit by Nejinee (complete | 17,769 | E)

Steve knows that Bucky’s trying his best to stay whole in this new modern world. Then Bucky finds a struggling little scraggly creature and decides immediately to wrap it up in his open heart and take it home. It’s a bit bizarre seeing a former assassin taking to something so small and helpless, but to Steve it all makes sense.

Part 1 of 2 lovestruck idiots and a dog

Sandy Cheeks by Nejinee (oneshot | 4,227 | T)

A day at the beach with Steve, Bucky and Blueberry.

Part 2 of 2 lovestruck idiots and a dog

The Job Between Here and There by Pohadka (series, ongoing | 182,404 | M)

He might be free from HYDRA’s command and making his own life now, but James Buchanan Barnes is far more lost than he’d ever been before. Nothing matches the vague memories he’s recovered so far, and the world has progressed far beyond needing soldiers. To find out what he wants, and how to get it, he just needs a little… Leverage.

all systems snot by galwednesday, silentwalrus, skellerbvvt (oneshot | 2,962 | T)

They don’t let you suck dick in quarantine.

A Hatemance For The Ages by BetteNoire (WeAreWolves) (series, ongoing, restricted | 28,750 | E)

This is what happens when you find your soulmate… and instead of birds singing and roses blooming, you discover they’re an insufferable jerk. But an insufferable jerk that you low-key really want to bang, if nothing else because MAYBE THEN THEY WOULD SHUT UP.

Features the worst, most annoying iterations of Cap!Steve and Modern!Bucky. There is nothing these two wouldn’t do for each other… out of spite.

[A series of occasional short fics that I write when I just want snark and hate sex]

The Department of Special Collections by alby_mangroves, Speranza (oneshot | 4,867 | T)

It was a messy thing of leather and papers and rope. It looked like Phillips had carelessly thrown a bunch of documents onto an old piece of black leather and then rolled the whole thing up and tied it … The papers inside were all different sizes, everything out of order and haphazardly stacked, like someone had been in a hurry and just grabbed it all.

love is blind (steve and bucky are just dumb) by talkplaylove, wearing_tearing (oneshot | 4,409 | T)

“You shouldn’t have interrupted their date, then,” Natasha pipes up, finally showing her face as she gives Bucky a wave and a tiny smile. “I like the hair.”

“Thank you.” Bucky preens a little. He ignores the teasing about this being a date; Nat and Sam somehow got it into their heads that Steve and him were dating via Skype calls. They’re not. They’re just friends who video call sometimes. Friends do that.

Part 3 of Happy Steve Bingo

Part 1 of men with no plans

i love him and our goat children by talkplaylove, wearing_tearing (oneshot | 5,526 | T)

“Bucky, why does Sam have a photo of you surrounded by goats and the words “Always be happy with Jesus” on it?” Steve asks, looking at him on the screen.

Or the one where Steve and Bucky move in together, adopt some goat kids, and live happily ever after.

Part 2 of men with no plans

Part 4 of Happy Steve Bingo

February

Treasured by Dira Sudis (dsudis), Sealcat (complete | 24,609 | M)

When everyone in town became convinced that a dragon really had come again to the Old Lair, and that the town would have to offer it tribute, they all looked at Steve.

Honestly, he was relieved.

The Joy of Little Things by obsessivereader, Sealcat (complete | 29,744 | E)

"Do you want me to eat you?"

“No, but—” Steve broke off his instinctive response. All his life, he’d believed in doing what was right… he was not about to stop now. Wincing at the prickling pain in his feet, he straightened up to his full height. “Yes. If it means you’ll leave this place.”

"But you don’t look very filling." The tip of the dragon’s tail twitched. "I don’t suppose you’re a virgin?" he asked hopefully. "I’ve heard they taste better."

Steve gritted his teeth and refused to answer. The dragon could very well find that out for himself. He stared at the dragon. The dragon stared back. Then the dragon got up, turned around, and went back into his cave.

"Well? Come on, tribute."

or, how Steve ends up working for a dragon with a very odd sense of humor

It's A Funny Story... by perfect_plan (oneshot | 6,009 | M)

Bucky just had the most mind-blowing sex of his life with a handsome stranger and nothing can ruin his day. That is until he goes out to breakfast with his room mate to meet Sam's best friend who just moved to town.

total eclipse of the bark by Deisderium (oneshot | 2,627 | T)

Steve's first day at the flower shop, he walks into the break room to find an extremely large and muscular man having a breakdown because his dog is sick. Only an asshole wouldn't try to comfort that large and muscular man.

Karma's A Fake Orgasm by gracie137 (complete | 51,653 | E)

There’s another abandoned mug, festering with mould in the living room — Steve offically has the world's worst roommates. And complains about them. Often. Bucky, tired of his lack of action, decides it’s time to avenge Steve's sleepless nights and unsanitary conditions once and for all. They’ll pretend to be the world’s most annoying couple: excessive PDA, loud fake sex, and general repugnance. The plan sounds easy enough; it will be strictly platonic. Or will it?

Part 1 of Revenge Is Best Served Horny

A minor misunderstanding, solidarity, and reunion by owlet (oneshot | 2,456 | T)

Barnes should know better. Lidia should charge her phone.

Part 8 of Infinite Coffee and Protection Detail

Licence To Thrill by roe87 (oneshot | 4,153 | M)

James is a Russian spy, ordered to take down American agent Steve Rogers.

Steve is an American agent, ordered to take down Russian spy James.

But when they first meet, things take a different turn.

(Or, a spies meet cute)

You Can't Take the Sky from Me by LeisurelyPanda (oneshot | 6,259 | M)

Captain Bucky Barnes and his crew were flagged by an Alliance ship after innocently minding their own business during an illegal salvage operation. It's not Bucky's first scrape with the oppressive, bureaucratic Alliance military, and it won't be the last. However, most Alliance vessels don't send someone so... adorably susceptible to Bucky's charms to interrogate him.

Steve was conscripted into the Alliance at a young age. He's been around long enough to know that it's not what everyone said it was when he was conscripted. A dashing rogue in his interrogation room, however, offers what might be his only chance at escaping this life.

It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year by stevergrsno (noxlunate) (oneshot | 5,186 | E)

“You should come over for a drink.” Christmas Stealing Hot Neighbor says instead of answering Steve’s very valid question.

“I really don’t think I should. Sounds like fraternizing with the enemy.” Steve says, even as he’s abandoning his tree and moving towards the gate.

“Look at is as a know thy enemy thing instead,” Christmas Stealing Hot Neighbor says before flashing Steve a smile and oh, oh no, Steve is screwed.

Aka Steve Rogers is competitive, Bucky Barnes is into his hot new neighbor, and Christmas Feelings ensue.

The New Super by gr8escap (oneshot | 3,001 | T)

Steve Rogers is trying to get comfortable in his almost affordable apartment and the New Superintendent of the building is a cruel distraction.

Part 6 of Happy Steve Rogers - [Bingo]

10-94* by gravesecret, softcorehippos (complete | 38,817 | E) *graphic violence

Late at night, when the city sleeps, they race.

Bucky Barnes owns a garage and race for pinks, Steve Rogers is an FBI Agent with a lot of people to prove wrong.

Destiny Knows Better by Polska_1999 (oneshot | 4,251 | T)

When Steve woke up after the ice with a new soulmark, and one that offended him no less, he made it his personal promise to hate the person that the universe chose to replace Bucky. Shame that the universe didn’t quite get the memo.

Part 9 of Sprint Towards Blackout (Happy Steve Bingo 2018)

Sergeant Hot Pants by cleo4u2 (oneshot | 11,798 | E)

When Sergeant Bucky Barnes is assigned to temporarily take over for Maria Hill, Steve can't quite keep his shit together. Not around Bucky, who is the hottest Alpha Steve's ever seen.

Lessons Are So Cold by herecomesbucktofuckshitup (complete | 57,575 | E)

Steve knows that he's small. He knows that someone has to go undercover at the local high school, and he knows that he was the right person for the job. He just wishes he wasn't. And Steve really really wishes that the cute boy he'd hooked up with the night before his mission hadn't turned out to one of his teachers.

Patience by cleo4u2 (oneshot | 5,073 | M)

You should never Google yourself. Steve knows that, he's been out of the ice for over a year, but he just can't help himself. After finding a gorgeous, sexy brunette thirst tweeting about calling him Daddy, he can't help himself from responding, either.

We Are The Lucky Ones by blithelybonny (oneshot | 28,563 | E)

The Soldiers will be drift compatible -- of that, there is no question. They were bred for perfect synchronicity; two halves of one whole, one mind in two perfect bodies.

But they cannot be allowed to remember. The drift may be catastrophic.

Seashore by Speranza (oneshot | 505 | not rated)

No Kind of Life by Speranza (oneshot | 1,995 | not rated)

"You know I have to do everything the hard way, Buck. It’s the fundamental fact of my nature.”

The Gentleness That Comes* by doctormccoy (oneshot | 8,566 | M) *sex work

Steve Rogers never really views the things he had to do to get by before the War with any sort of shame or embarrassment. People ask him for his opinions on modern issues in interviews, but Steve has gotten good at talking around those types of questions. Fury insists that there's no way to answer them without casting a shadow of controversy across the reputation of the Avengers, and that's the last thing Steve wants.

But then a sex tape is released featuring Tony Stark in bed with another man, and Steve can't stay quiet any longer.

Expressive Force by Avaaricious (oneshot | 3,795 | T)

AKA the "You punched me in the face while gesticulating wildly to a friend" AU

Part 1 of Meet-Ugly

Bite Your Tongue by Avaaricious (complete | 34,193 | T)

AKA the "I work at a department store and if you take out and unfold a shirt and then leave it one more time I'm going to stuff it down your throat" AU

Part 2 of Meet-Ugly

March

Misdemeanor by Avaaricious (complete | 9,140 | G)

Based off this tumblr post by peterssquill:

Some cop, unlucky enough to pull over Captain America of all people: Sir um could I see ur... uh... license?

Steve Rogers someone who never bothered to get one: ....no

Part 6 of Meet-Ugly

P.O.W. by Avaaricious (oneshot | 20,420 | T)

AKA the "You're strapped to a table in a lab and I've come to rescue you, but you think you're hallucinating and kiss me" AU

Part 5 of Meet-Ugly

Part 1 of Fixed Points

The New Super by gr8escap (oneshot | 3,001 | T)

Steve Rogers is trying to get comfortable in his almost affordable apartment and the New Superintendent of the building is a cruel distraction.

Part 6 of Happy Steve Rogers - [Bingo]

Seashore by Speranza (oneshot | 505 | not rated)

Fan the Flame by Avaaricious (WIP | 253,880 | M)

AKA the "I thought you were a dude-bro and meant to swipe left on Tinder but I slipped. We matched and now I'm stuck talking to you" AU

Part 4 of Meet-Ugly

Heckin' Chunker for Love by canistakahari (oneshot | 2,708 | T)

On the inside of the big floor to ceiling window of the office across the street, someone has used Post-it Notes to spell out a message:

W H A T I S Y O U R C A T ’ S N A M E ?

Like Playing With Fire by GoldBlooded, LeisurelyPanda, wilfling (complete | 33,567 | E)

James is heir to his family's business, brought over from Mother Russia by his great-grandfather in 1917. In 1918, an Irish organization also moved to Brooklyn, a little too close for comfort. They've been rivals for over a hundred years, and it can get pretty stressful. Sometimes James needs to blow off some steam, and if a handsome stranger named Grant wants to do the same, James certainly isn’t going to say no.

Steve, heir to the Irish family, has never met James Barnes. But they all know that he's an arrogant, dangerous enemy without honor, as evidenced by the way the Russians are crossing lines again. On the way to a 'meeting' between the two families, Steve doesn't spare his counterpart a single thought... because his head is swimming with a man named Bucky and the earth-shattering night they've just spent together.

How will Steve and James cope when they find out they're sworn blood enemies? What happens when the 'meeting' is sabotaged by an unknown third party? Will the Irish and Russians be able to look past ancient, ingrained hurts for the sake of survival? More importantly, will Steve and James be able to ignore the ever-growing attraction between them?

I’m a Sucker for a Wild Boy by jinlinli (complete | 9,897 | T)

Steve is a vampire who’s never met a werewolf in his life before. Bucky is a werewolf who doesn’t even know vampires exist. Naturally, neck biting means two very different things to them.

In which Steve goes for a midnight snack and accidentally gets himself werewolf married.

The Very Heart of It* by merryofsoul (restricted, oneshot | 17,743 | M) *graphic violence

In which Captain America adopts a dog from Bucky and they become friends — and then more.

A Piece of Silly Affection by Reccea (restricted, oneshot | 11,687 | E)

Steve looked good, He looked hale and hearty and uninjured in his leather jacket, too-tight shirt, and jeans. He got off the motorcycle and his movements were graceful and fluid - no obvious signs of injury. He took off his helmet and --

Oh.

Steve had a beard.

Bucky’s mechanical hand spasmed oddly.

Life of the Party by AggressiveWhenStartled (complete | 21,689 | E)

“You know, kids,” Steve heard from the backyard, “one of the most common threats a superhero has to face is inside an active volcano! We’re going to have to work on your evasion skills, so for the next five minutes, the floor is lava!” This was met by a sudden spike in both volume and pitch from the small children as they scrambled onto every raised surface they could find and immediately launched themselves right back off.

“I’ve never seen actual lava in my entire life,” Steve said, vaguely offended.

“You got a superhero impersonator for The Falcon’s niece’s birthday party,” Sam said, incredulous. “The Falcon, who is an actual superhero.”

#TweetMeDaddy by StarSpangled (Senforza) (oneshot | 4,127 | T)

Coulson, for his part, stares up at Bucky with such a betrayed look of frozen horror that Natasha actually goes the extra step and presses another button, capturing the moment and airdropping the photograph to her phone for posterity. When he speaks, his voice comes out as a hoarse whisper. “Why…?” He swallows and starts again, trying for some semblance of normality. “...Why would you tweet something like that?!”

“If you must know, sir,” and somehow he manages to make ‘sir’ come out with the same inflection most people reserve for ‘motherfucking son of a bitch’, “it’s because I have a difficult time doing my job when my job involves monitoring the man with the best fucking ass in the United States of America.” He slowly lowers himself back into his seat until he’s at eye level, making extreme eye contact with Coulson until Coulson turns away to make mortified eye contact in Natasha’s general direction through the one-way glass. Natasha would take another picture, if she weren’t too busy catching Steve’s red-faced sputtering. “Sometimes, I vent to my Twitter followers. Sometimes, it’s about hot men with washboard abs. Can I go now, or do you need a graphic description of how I pleasure myself at night?”

Bad Moon Rising by spacebuck (complete | 57,533 | E)

Bucky Barnes is a lot of things:

- a nurse - the owner of a dorky dog that's too big for his own good - a lot older than he looks (by a lot more than you’d guess) - one of the last born-werewolves of his generation (namely due to point number one)

He's also one of the most powerful werewolves in New York City, not that he uses that power for more than keeping up with his work and playing with his dog.

But, when the once-in-two-hundred-years lunar event known to wolves as the Triple Moon comes along, Bucky's more than a little peeved to get to Central Park to find cloud cover blocking the majority of the power the moon is supposed to be giving him.

And then he finds an unconscious man in a clearing.

He doesn't connect the two, though in retrospect he should have - witches are sneakier than they appear.

much tattoo about nothing by Deisderium (oneshot | 14,579 | E)

Steve Rogers gets a lot of email requests, but never one like this: James Barnes wants to use his healing factor to practice tattoos.

Turns out tattoos give Steve boners.

April

My Arms Were Made To Hold You by portraitofemmy, rainbow_marbles (oneshot | 55,101 | E)

Tired of being kept awake at night by a screaming baby, Bucky decides to take matters into his own hands. Mostly he wants a good night's sleep, but what he gets is a beautiful baby boy with big blue eyes, a lonely father trying to move on from tragedy, and a chance at a family he never expected to have.

Part 1 of Never Let You Go

Coming Up Aces by greenbergsays (oneshot | 1,771 | E)

Bucky Barnes is a charismatic, flirty asexual man that lives with his awkward pansexual best friend, Steve Rogers.

Part 7 of Tumblr Ficlets

Don't Let the Tide Come and Wash Us Away by alittlewicked, hey_you_with_the_face (oneshot | 10,039 | E)

There was a man standing in the shop. A man with Steve’s leather jacket wrapped tight around him – or at least a jacket that looked like his seal skin.

Anyway.

A really beautiful, young man with a strong build and broad shoulders was standing in the doorway. His wispy brown hair framing an expressive face with beautiful pouty lips, an adorably cleft chin, and steel grey eyes that remembered Steve of the stormy seas of Ireland, of his ancestors’ home.

Steve was unabashedly staring (sue him, it was his shop).

Or: the one where Steve, the selkie with a coffee shop like they wished they had at 2 Broke Girls, gets accidentally selkie-married to Bucky, the dryad who just came back from an extended tree time, and they are both just idiots in love at first sight.

The Roommate by layersofart (layersofsilence), Niitza (complete | 28,632 | T)

In which Steven G. Rogers, a.k.a. Captain America, gets a roommate. Who rapidly turns into his "roommate"—in the euphemistic sense of the word.

It takes SHIELD and the rest of the Avengers an absurd amount of time to notice.

Make My Wish Come True (all i want for christmas is you) by chicklette (complete | 27,516 | M)

Steve's spent his whole life pining for Bucky Barnes. Why should this year be any different?

A Holiday fic that begins on New Year's Eve and wraps up on Christmas Day.

Cause & Effect by Avaaricious (complete | 25,810 | T)

When Bucky falls from the train in the Alps, Steve will do whatever it takes to mount a rescue mission, consequences be damned.

One possible outcome continued from my fic P.O.W.

Part 2 of Fixed Points

And So It Goes by Avaaricious (oneshot | 9,267 | not rated)

Life goes on for Steve and Bucky as they enter a new century, but there are fixed points in the universe; things that are destined to play out a certain way no matter what.

Part 3 of Fixed Points

come as you are by silentwalrus (WIP | 10,897 | E)

Steve comes back to the States. He pursues truth, justice and the American way. Bucky comes back too. He pursues inebriation and intercourse.

Part 3 of Bucky Barnes Gets His Groove Back & Other International Incidents

Just This Once (The Everybody Lives Remix) by Dira Sudis (dsudis) (oneshot | 6,808 | T)

A way it could have happened.

Ain’t Gotta Hide This Heart of Mine by yourekindof_weird (oneshot | 3,882 | G)

“Uh, so listen, Steve,” Rebecca says. She seems nervous now and she’s biting her lip, “I don’t want to, uh, come across as rude or anything, but I don’t think a relationship between us would work out,” Rebecca fiddles with the straw wrapper from her cranberry juice, “Mr. Stark sort of sprung this on me and I agreed because I was sort of startled,” she makes eye contact with him, “but I’m actually pretty gay, so…” Steve can’t stop the sigh of relief that makes its way out of his mouth. ... Steve has been dating Bucky Barnes, an ER nurse, for over a year. None of the Avengers (excluding Sam) know about this. It leads to the Avengers (mainly Tony) trying to set Steve up on dates.

Kiss Me Once Again by ShowMeAHero (oneshot | 1,171 | T)

Steve’s quiet for a moment, then says, “I’m sorry, Buck.”

“Why?” Bucky says. “It’s been half a minute for me.”

Blood Is Thicker Than Carpet Cleaner by Alexicon (oneshot | 5,872 | T)

Just because it had been a joke didn’t mean it was a bad idea. Steve opened the phone book to the business section and searched fruitlessly for the right entries for about six minutes until he finally came across ‘Cl’ by sheer luck when a few pages stuck together as he turned them.

For some reason, his eyes were immediately drawn to a small, bleak ad in the corner, with only a few words, a phone number, and a thin black border.

The ad’s content:

“Winter’s Cleaning Services. Fees paid half up front. Specializes in blood removal.”

Well. That was. Specific.

Steve Rogers is Captain America, a superhero. Bucky Barnes is the Winter Soldier, an assassin. Steve needs someone to clean his apartment. Bucky shows up to a meeting with a potential client. Neither of them got quite what they expected.

Part 7 of marvel works

May

before we can breathe easy by belovedmuerto (oneshot | 22,052 | T)

No one touches Steve.

Bucky sets out to do something about that

Check, Mate? by talkplaylove-art (talkplaylove), wearing_tearing (oneshot | 1,938 | T) (reread)

A notification from Check, Mate? blinks back at him. Steve’s heart speeds up when he opens the app and then his face breaks into a blinding grin when sees what’s waiting for him.

James likes him back.

Part 1 of endgame

Part 5 of Happy Steve Bingo

Check, Mate! by talkplaylove, wearing_tearing (oneshot | 13,097 | E)

Bucky gasps and stares down at his crotch, sex-addled brain making it harder for him to focus on what the fuck is going on. Steve himself takes a second to realize what the fuck just happened, but when he does, well.

“Did you just fuckin’ knot me?” Steve asks, eyes wide and voice loud with shock.

Or the one where Steve and Bucky meet on a dating app, and everything happens way faster than anyone expects.

Part 2 of endgame

You Will Meet a Stranger by spitandvinegar (restricted, oneshot | 3,061 | M) (reread)

When the mask falls off Steve recoils.

He'll never forgive himself.

Idioglossia by hotelmichelle (oneshot | 20,434 | M)

“James and Steve. If I have to tell you one more time to stop talking, you will be separated. Do you understand?”

Bucky stares up at Mrs. Wheatley with the face that gets him out of trouble when his ma is in a good mood. Steve becomes suddenly fascinated with his correction work. It would have been convincing enough, if their papers weren’t blank.

Or: Steve and Bucky make up a secret language

Part 1 of secret language 'verse

My Arms Were Made To Hold You by portraitofemmy, rainbow_marbles (oneshot | 55,101 | E)

Part 1 of Never Let You Go

Don't Let the Tide Come and Wash Us Away by alittlewicked, hey_you_with_the_face (oneshot | 10,039 | E)

There was a man standing in the shop. A man with Steve’s leather jacket wrapped tight around him – or at least a jacket that looked like his seal skin.

Anyway.

Steve was unabashedly staring (sue him, it was his shop).

Super Soak That Ho by silentwalrus (oneshot | 1,434 | T)

It all starts with them going to a movie. “Let’s see this one,” Steve says, pointing to the listing for ARRANGERS: RAGE OF MEGATRON. “It’s supposed to be based on a true story.”

“Fine,” Bucky says. They go to the movies.

This is crack, guys. Expect no redeeming features here.

liquid measure by silentwalrus (oneshot | 2,594 | M)

Just a normal domestic afternoon with two supersoldiers.

sneeze disease by silentwalrus (oneshot | 5,540 | M)

Bucky starts to believe in a vengeful god on May the twelfth, year of our Lord two thousand and fucking eighteen, because that’s the day he makes fun of Clint Barton for carrying around a dainty little packetful of tissues in his pocket and honking into them like a congested donkey every fifteen minutes. “Fucking polleb,” Clint swears, wiping at his watering eyes. “Fucking claritin. Fucking zyrtec. Fucking bastards, all of dem.”

“What’s happened to your pokeymen now?” Bucky asks distractedly, not looking away from where Natasha is very slowly setting the last Joker on her vast, exquisitely balanced house of cards.

“Dat’s not - dey’re not pokémon,” Clint says, aggrieved. “Dey’re drugs. And dey don’t work for me.”

couples therapy by silentwalrus, skellerbvvt (series, ongoing | 19,275 | E)

“You can be rougher,” Bucky says. “If you want.”

They’re about four minutes post orgasm and Steve is still trying to figure out where his legs are. “Muh?”

snackfic by galwednesday, silentwalrus, skellerbvvt (series, ongoing | 12,300 | G-T)

Convenience series for my off the cuff ficlets, largely unrelated to each other or my other works unless stated otherwise

death of an artist by silentwalrus (oneshot | 2,237 | G)

our intrepid heroes take a day trip to sunny, idyllic Giverny.

ain't really quaint by quietnight, silentwalrus (complete | 44,045 | M)

Natasha stops by on a Tuesday, early enough in the morning that it would have been late by Steve’s old standards. Now, though, it takes him nearly three minutes just to limp to the door, yawning, and when he opens it he has to lean heavily on the doorframe.

“Hi,” Natasha says, over the beginnings of birdsong. She’s not alone. “Can we come in?”

Part 1 of farm hell

You Sure Are Looking Good by Defiler_Wyrm, the_genderman (oneshot | 7,002 | E)

When your boyfriend’s a werewolf, some roleplay scenarios just fall into place so naturally. Bucky’s got some fancy lingerie, a danger kink, and a Red Riding Hood roleplay brewing up. Steve’s ready, willing, and eager to play his Big Bad Wolf.

at first chance i'd take the bed warmed by the body by spacebuck (oneshot | 8,238 | E)

This close, Steve can see exactly how beautiful his hands are. He’s never really noticed before, or at least he’s never really had a reason to notice, but the man’s hands are large, tanned like he works outside all day. There’s an endearing callus on the heel of one of his palms, and Steve can’t quite work out when calluses became endearing.

Steve pauses the video. Swallows hard. Casts his eyes around for anything that’ll keep his mind off the hands on his screen, off the words inked into those hands, the delicate shape of a bird’s wing, the curling edge of a vine.

He looks down. The name of the channel is right there, blaring the man’s name right into Steve’s brain until it feels like he’s known it all along.

Bucky Barnes.

OR: the one where Bucky's a youtuber who solves puzzles on camera, and steve's smitten and horny

Chlorophyll by Plumcot (series, ongoing | 19,095 | T)

Steve Rogers doesn't have time for your fancy relaxation. He doesn't have time for your comfy pillows, or your body wash, or your chamomile tea that tastes like plant matter with a side of "why". Steve Rogers only wants one thing in life; to work until the end of days, because at least then he can say he didn't waste his time on Earth doing nothing.

Bucky Barnes has flowers in his hair and chlorophyll in his skin, and he doesn't have time to be stressed. Why would he, when there's rain to dance in, sun to bask in, and philodendrons to talk to? So he is, understandably, very worried about his (sadly) human neighbor who wouldn't stop and smell the roses if he faceplanted in a flower bed. Obviously something must be done.

Steve isn't all that happy when a green-skinned stranger shows up at his door and tries to give him a plant.

June

get it together by silentwalrus (oneshot | 2,089 | T)

“You wanna go out?”

Boeuf Mystère by galwednesday (oneshot | 1,230 | T)

“Quick question,” Bucky said.

Steve looked up, but didn’t stop moving passports and stacks of cash into a nondescript blue duffel, his mind busily ticking through logistics. He’d grab the glock taped behind the hidden drawer in the desk on their way out, and they could buy new clothes once they got across the border into neutral territory, so they didn’t need much else, apart from whatever Bucky wanted to bring. One duffle should be enough. “Yeah, honey?”

“What the fuck.”

Part 12 of Tumblr ficlets 2018

Part 1 of Steakout au Poivre

The Sins of Our Fathers* by inflomora, noirhound (complete | 33,943 | M) *graphic violence

His family called him Bucky.

The arenas in Athens called him the Winter Soldier.

The Spartan Brotherhood calls him Iakov. He defends the light from the dark that once coursed through his veins.

When the location of the Tesseract—a powerful Piece of Eden—is made known to the Brotherhood by a pair of Assassins from Athens, it is up to Iakov and his men to secure it before the Order of Hydra does, and it will take the cooperation of both Bureaus to succeed. His job is not made easier when he finds himself falling for his commanding officer, a certain blond Athenian Assassin who hides a powerful secret.

But they are not the only ones after the Tesseract. With the fate of the world hanging in the balance, a dangerous enemy looming unseen over their shoulders, and nobody left to trust, they must find and bring the Tesseract to Athens before it falls into the wrong hands—that is, if they manage to survive the trip.

Part 1 of Death is A Debt (We All Must Pay)

might never be normal again (but who cares) by napricot (complete | 51,540 | E)

The beginnings of a plan took shape in Steve’s mind, as clear and simple as a tactical frontal assault. He’d prove to Bucky that this was it, he was staying: Steve was retired from the fighting game, Steve wasn’t going to let anything keep pulling them apart. Maybe then when Steve finally told him he loved him, Bucky would believe him.

All things considered, Steve thought he’d handled the whole Thanos killing half the universe thing and the ensuing bitter, desperate quest to defeat him pretty well. Sacrificing his super soldier serum to use one of the Infinity Stones wasn't a problem either, not when it meant getting back the half of the universe they'd lost, and especially not when it meant getting Bucky back. But retirement and finally confessing his feelings for Bucky? Those were proving to be more challenging.

can't hardly weight by stevergrsno (noxlunate) (oneshot | 3,760 | T)

When Steve Rogers woke up in the future he was given a phone and shown how to use social media.

Well, no, in all actuality he was given a two week crash course entitled The Future And You, a six hour sensitivity course, a brand new id, and a credit card.

In which Steve gets a crush on an instagram gym thot and laments over it a lot to the intern stuck with him.

The Art Of Cooking For Two by littleblackfox (complete | 92,761 | M) (reread)

“Any questions?” “Uh. What the fuck am I doing here?” Bucky offers.

I just met you (and this is crazy) by littlesystems (complete | 41,784 | E)

After Steve gets outed by a grainy cell phone picture, it takes the media less than 24 hours to discover Captain America’s secret relationship with James Barnes: classical musician, teen heartthrob, and son of a former president.

The only problem? Steve has never met James Barnes in his life.

Part 1 of I just met you (and extras)

All of Your Love is Sunlight by canistakahari, WarlockInTraining (complete | 22,657 | E)

Sometimes the path to happiness involves bad timing turned good, a butt plant, and a little everyday magic. For Steve and Bucky, it's all that and more.

Dirty Pics by lillupon (oneshot | 3,117 | M)

There’s this one guy Bucky slept with three months ago who still sends pics of his ass whenever Bucky asks. What can he say? Grant’s got an ass that just won’t quit.

Hey, Asshole! A New York City Love story by bunnymaccool (oneshot | 14,818 | T)

Bucky's running late for the bus and he's stuck in line behind some ridiculous shoulder to waist ratio bastard who's too busy flirting with the baristas to get his frickin' order in. After he tells the dude off, completely in his rights he feels, the damn oversized puppy-faced ass keeps following him around and trying to apologize. And okay, dude is hot like burnin', but Bucky just doesn't have the time or patience for soothing the wounded ego of some gymrat wannabe with an obsession for dressing like he's hiding from the mob and .... why are you laughing, Sam?

Part 1 of New York City Assholes

Snapshots by layersofart (layersofsilence), newsbypostcard (oneshot | 18,579 | M)

Steve picks up the picture to be sure of what he saw, but there's been no mistake. "It doesn't even have a Navy stamp," he says, turning the photo toward her. "What is this?"

"Are you asking me?"

"It looks like a pin-up."

"Yes," Natasha agrees. "It does."

---

Post TWS: Steve is trying to find Bucky. Instead, he finds the sexy Navy "propaganda" Bucky somehow never mentioned he modeled for before the war.

I Wished On The Moon For You by stevergrsno (noxlunate) (oneshot | 14,581 | T)

“Holy shit,” Sam says, and then delighted, “Holy shit. You look like my nana’s dog. This is incredible.”

“Yeah, funny that, when they gave him the serum it only really worked on the human bits.” Bucky, whose reaction to Sam thus far has been standoffish at best, and like a wolf whose territory has been invaded at worst, sounds amused, the asshole.

Steve growls a little.

Or rather: A story in which Steve Rogers is the littlest werewolf who could and Bucky Barnes comes in from the cold and makes him his home.

Love in a Time of War by cleo4u2, cobaltmoony (complete | 20,775 | G)

James Barnes is a world renowned opera singer who has dreamed of performing in an opera composed by Steve Rogers. When his dream finally comes true, he quickly regrets what he’s always wished for. But while Steve can’t stand James, Bucky can’t stop wishing they could have some kind of future together. Will Steve realize he’s wrong about Bucky? Or is the damage from their first meeting too much to overcome?

Brooklyn by togina (oneshot | 8,749 | T)

"Captain America, what's your stance on gay marriage?"

Everyone knows that, by now. Everyone but Bucky.

I [Heart] You by writeonclara (oneshot | 1,138 | G)

“Steve’s been hit with a curse,” Natasha said. She said it calmly, so Bucky didn’t immediately go flying out of the apartment to tear apart the Tower in search of Steve. Then again, Natasha would probably be calm if New York City spontaneously burst into flames. He lowered the coffee pot and squinted at her.

“Of course he has,” he said. He felt, abruptly, exhausted. “What is it?”

“The witch kept ranting about sexual repression and archaic moral principles,” she continued blithely.

“It’s not like you to prevaricate, Romanov.”

Natasha pressed her lips together. For a moment, Bucky thought she might start laughing. “It might be easier just to show you.”

OR: Steve’s been hit with a rather telling curse.

Ruff Day by ellebeesknees (umetnica), emptydistractions (complete | 20,570 | M)

Bucky's life is a mess: The US government's been breathing down his neck ever since his trial, the Avengers are a constant pain in his ass, and putting his brain back together hasn't exactly been a walk in the park. This wasn't exactly what he had in mind when he fled Hydra.

He's doing okay, but what he doesn't need is any extra stress. And what he definitely doesn't need is for Steve to tangle with an amateur sorcerer and end up a massive, overly friendly, eighty-pound, shedding, slobbering dog. That Bucky's now responsbile for. For the foreseeable future.

But hey, silver lining. At least now Steve can't talk him to death.

This Side by brideofquiet (restricted, complete | 35,321 | T)

Bucky Barnes restores antiques for a living. Steve Rogers saves the world. Bucky has no reason to believe their paths will ever cross, right up until they do.

Or: the Notting Hill AU.

Behold, a Man by leveragehunters (Monkeygreen) (oneshot | 9,296 | T)

At sunrise tomorrow, Bucky knew he was going to turn into a rooster. He wasn't sure if it was better or worse knowing it was coming. What he did know was that it didn't matter where he slept: his room, Steve's room, Stark's lab—it was going to happen. The curse of the were-cock had struck and there was no escaping. As the elevator carried them back down to their floor, he started chuckling.

Steve gave him a look of concern.

Bucky waved it away. "Just thinking. Curse of the Were-cock'd probably make a lousy movie."

Steve snorted, then said thoughtfully, "I don't know. Maybe it depends on what sort of movie you're making."

Rusted Gate by hafital (oneshot | 19,677 | E)

How many times has he replayed this scene? The young private, the forest path, the rusted gate. Steve and him. This last chance to tell him. He knows what’s about to happen. Why can’t he tell him? How many times has he tried to change how it ends? Maybe this time, he can get it right.

Honestly, Fuck Brooklyn by stfustucky (iwillpaintasongforlou) (oneshot | 8,243 | E)

So, aliens are attacking and have shredded Brooklyn to smithereens, which pretty much makes it a typical Tuesday afternoon in New York. Bucky Barnes, long time Brooklyn resident, has Been There and Done That. What's less typical is the redhead who breaks into his apartment to rescue him, the underground bunker he's stashed in, and the sudden appearance of masked superhero Captain America kissing Bucky breathless and calling him baby. Good thing Bucky knows how to throw a punch.

((Or, the one where it takes yet another apocalypse for the somewhat oblivious Bucky Barnes to figure out that his dorky artist boyfriend Steve is actually Captain Goddamned America. Whoops.))

I saw you there, I saw you then by cleo4u2, xantissa (oneshot | 19,320 | E)

An accidental slide of a thumb brings Steve and Bucky back together.

Art Nouveau by voluptuous_panic (oneshot | 12,246 | E)

Steve's on the worst date of his life. At least the bartender's cute.

No One Wants Your Opinion by thepinupchemist (oneshot | 5,600 | E)

Wherein Bucky loves to cuddle Steve Rogers, Steve comes out on national television for the sole purpose of spiting conservative politicians, Tony sees things he wishes he hadn't, and Pepper doesn't know why she even bothers.

July

Honey Honey* by justanotherStonyfan (series, ongoing | 544,594 | E) */others, past but explicit

The kid is maybe, oh, twenty years younger than him? Clean-shaven, and looking out of the corner of his eye at Steve in the same way Steve feels he must be looking at the kid – i.e., like he wants to do any number of unmentionable things to him.

Because boy does Steve ever want to do unspeakable things to this kid.

AKA, the Accidental Sugardaddy!Steve AU I always wanted.

Through The Woods by alby_mangroves, VenusMonstrosa (complete | 64,082 | E)

There’s a legend in Mansewood, nearly as old as the town itself, about a pack of werewolves that once lived in the forest. They say only one survives; a monstrous and snarling beast with fur like a blizzard and fangs the size of daggers. They say it guards the lands and all creatures in it, and no hunter has faced it and lived to tell the tale.

Steve doesn’t care about any of that. He only wants to know if it prefers T-Bone or ribeye, and would it please stop tracking dirt through his house? He just mopped the floor.

Part 1 of Through The Woods

streamlined by nickel710 (series, ongoing | 56,248 | G-M)

In which Bucky Barnes, Iraq war veteran and bicycle enthusiast, streams Overwatch on the side for fun under the handle President15, and one day his friend-of-a-friend FalconKnight introduces a new player to the crew, THECapRogers. It would be totally absurd for the actual Captain America to hang out in his stream and argue about baseball, right? ...right?

BuckRogers vs. the Internet by galwednesday (series, complete | 5,642 | T-M)

“Remember what I said about internet trolls?”

“Don’t feed the trolls.”

“Exactly. Did I not say the same thing to Barnes?” Tony asked rhetorically. “Were those not my exact words? I could have sworn they were, and yet.”

“Bucky’s feeding the trolls?”

“He’s throwing a goddamn seven-course troll banquet. Every time someone on Twitter asks if your relationship announcement is real, he replies. Colorfully.”

Steve opened his mouth to ask what “colorfully” meant, then caught the gleam in Tony’s eye and put two and two together. He blushed. Colorfully. “Oh.”

(Steve and Bucky announce their relationship in a very dignified press conference. Bucky then replies to every goddamn tweet asking him to confirm it with a different dirty euphemism. Things escalate from there.)

Just About Half-Past Ten by rohkeutta (oneshot | 1,978 | T)

But as he reaches Madison Avenue, Stark Tower a mere block away, the skies open with a whoosh, and he barely manages to duck under the construction scaffolding perched over the sidewalk. Thunder rumbles overhead, and Bucky frantically checks every compartment of his bag for an umbrella he knows is there.

It’s not. He does find some loose glitter, though, and a lipstick he wore for Pride and had thought he’d lost, plus a spare MetroCard he can’t remember buying.

He also gets a crystal clear flashback of leaving the umbrella under his desk to dry yesterday morning, and never picking it up again.

Leave Those Umbrellas At Home by rohkeutta (oneshot | 2,441 | T)

Bucky watches the watery snow come down and thinks about it, his mood deflating steadily. He imagines Steve going home the next morning, sitting down at his desk and opening his Super-Secret Sexcapade Journal and writing Bucky’s name in next to a carefully-thought Preparation & Performance Grade.

B+ for the effort to look nice naked, C- for being embarrassingly vanilla and wanting to do it face-to-face so he could scritch his fingers through Steve’s beard and hair. Not worth a repetition. Kinky Grade: F.

Bucky’s being uncharitable and he knows it, but Hangry Barnes can be a sad sack of shit when he wants to.

Page One Rewrite by thedoubteriswise (oneshot | 3,008 | T)

World War II enthusiasts and film geeks rejoice! Much like the Sentinel of Liberty himself, a few reels of missing Cap footage have been brought back to life.

We're All in the Gutter, but Some of Us Are Looking at the Stars by chipofftheoldblock (complete | 45,045 | M)

I’m sorry, sir,’ he said, and Maria looked a little appeased, though now she was gesturing for him to get off stage. And then he smiled real big and wide and sincere and said, ‘Guess I’m just real fuckin’ tired of everyone treating me like an idiot. To answer your question, ain’t a lot I really miss. Polio was pretty fuckin’ awful, and so was the food, and the racism and homophobia and hatred so many folks had for one another for dumb-as-shit differences was so goddamn stupid -’

Maria was suddenly on stage beside him, pulling his microphone away and grabbing his arm with a steel grip. Steve just leaned over to Nat’s mic with a shit-eating grin on his face and said, ‘Thank you so much for your time.’

Steve's tired of the world treating him like he doesn't know a damn thing about the future. Bucky's tired of not knowing a damn thing about the past.

They meet somewhere in the middle.

when he gets older, he might be the one* by cobaltmoony, CoraRochester (complete | 32,398| E) *underage

In which a freak run-in with the Cosmic Cube ages Steve into his fifties, and Bucky— still trying to figure out who he is after decades of brainwashing— decides it’s time to come home.

Part 1 of when he gets older, he might be the one

crowding the hitter by rooonil_waazlib (complete | 12,917 | E)

But the trash monsters are coming closer, and Bucky’s going to be pissed if he has to get his grate replaced tomorrow.

He turns off the panini press, heads into his bedroom, and pulls his college baseball bat out of the closet, pausing only to pull on the slacks he’d just taken off. He’s going to go defend his shop, and he’s not going to do it in his underpants.

Nobody Likes Unsolicited Dick Pics (Except When They Do)* by Blondie_Bluue (complete | 21,864 | E) *chose not to warn

When Bucky Barnes accidentally sends a dick pic to a wrong number while looking for a little action, he never expected to get a positive response.

Feelings are caught, drama ensues, things work out in the end

i'm a ghost, you're an angel (one and the same) by voxofthevoid (complete | 31,133 | E)

“You fucked him.”

Bucky licks his lips and nods. Fury lets out a deep breath and leans back in his chair in a movement that’s terrifyingly controlled but spills danger out the edges.

“Twenty years,” Fury says slowly, taking special care to imbue each word with his personal brand of bone-chilling judgement. It used to make Bucky quiver in his boots back when he was a baby S.H.I.E.L.D agent with two functional arms. “In that time, I have asked, threatened, coaxed, and damn near begged this man to work for us, or at least with us, and what finally gets it done is your dick?”

“Ass.”

“Excuse me?”

“Listen, I’m not saying any part of my anatomy is what persuaded Commander Rogers to agree to this, but hypothetically, if that’s what did it, let’s just say he would have found my ass far more persuasive than my dick.” Bucky pauses, secretly relishing the sour-lemon look on Fury’s face. “It still hurts, in case you’re wondering.”

- Steve tries to seduce Bucky over to the dark side. But the Avengers are more grey than dark, and it’s still a paler shade of grey than what S.H.I.E.L.D’s got going nine times out of ten. Bucky really should be more concerned about the seduction part.

Part 2 of i'm guilty of treason (i've abandoned control)

turn me up when you feel low by faerietell (oneshot | 13,891 | T) (reread)

Steve Rogers is a man out of time, in a city that used to be his home, a city he no longer recognizes. Through charming radio host, Bucky Barnes, he relearns his city, adopts a dog, and falls in love.

August

A lot of Good Omens reading happened in August.

When the Season Comes Around by theheartischill (oneshot | 34,447 | T)

The other problem is that Steve loves him, and Bucky isn't sure he remembers how to love.

Despicable by TheVagabondBoy (series, ongoing | 8,450 | T)

Bucky Barnes just wants to scavenge spaceship-wrecks and get a nice payday for it. He really wasn't planning on finding a survivor on his latest wreck.

The Joy of Little Things by obsessivereader, Sealcat (complete | 29,744 | E)

"Do you want me to eat you?"

"But you don’t look very filling." The tip of the dragon’s tail twitched. "I don’t suppose you’re a virgin?" he asked hopefully. "I’ve heard they taste better."

"Well? Come on, tribute."

or, how Steve ends up working for a dragon with a very odd sense of humor

Quench by AidaRonan (complete | 9,417 | E)

This guy, he had never met. He definitely wouldn’t have forgotten it if he had. Shaggy dishwater blond hair run through with natural golden highlights, a thick brown beard, and a body like a Mack truck made out of ribeye.

“Fuck me,” Bucky gasped.

“Excuse me?” Or the one where archeology intern Bucky Barnes meets actual archeologist Steve Rogers and reaches levels of thirst scientists once believed to be theoretically impossible.

haha, jk by relenafanel (oneshot | 13,523 | T)

(A tale of Not Unrequited Love)

Steve: I love you. Bucky: oh no. (and other fallacies)

Bucky learns to never say never when it comes to the effect his best friend can have.

Like Real People Do by 2bestfriends (complete | 67,777 | E)

Seven years into an isolated retirement after the Battle of New York, Steve has carved out a place for himself in the foothills of the Catskill Mountains. He has a best friend (his dog, Lady), a frenemy (a local black bear named Rufus), and a cabin in the middle of the woods, an hour's drive from the nearest town. As November comes to a close, he heads into town to pick up supplies and ends up with a stowaway.

Bucky hasn't had much luck over the past seven years. Disaster caused his family to move from New York to Indiana, and his life has steadily fallen apart ever since. After one too many heartbreaks, he decides to hitch his way back to the last place he remembers being happy: Brooklyn. He's in the homestretch when he finds himself stranded in a half-empty tourist town in the Catskills and decides to take a chance crawling into the back of someone's truck.

AKA the "Lumberjack Steve/Twink Bucky" fic of our hearts. Bucky spends so much time thirsty as hell.

Part 1 of All That You Are to Me

Pod Bless America by Deisderium (complete | 6,13 | T)

Bucky can't believe his favorite podficcer recorded his newest fanfic AU of the show Commandos. He's even more surprised when the customer who busts him listening to fic while he's working in the office supply store turns out to be that podficcer.

* The guy—maybe bi_shield?—took his phone, looked down at the screen, and smiled. "Yeah, that one's mine," he said with no evidence of embarrassment. "It was a good one." He handed the phone back to Bucky.

"I wrote it," Bucky croaked.

Thunder and Ice* by Quarra, TrishArgh (complete | 18,027 | E) *tagged rape/noncon for mentions of sex pollen

Bucky is back with Steve in Avengers Tower and recovering well from his time with Hydra and the Avengers are working together better than ever too; but Steve still feels like something is missing in his life. At the urging of his loved ones, Steve takes up creative writing in his free time to help him regain a sense of happiness and purpose.

And his favorite subject to write about? Having sex with Bucky.

It turns out that other people seem to like what he's writing about too. So much so that Steve picks up a pen name and becomes a published romance novelist. But how long can Steve's secret smut writings stay secret, especially given who he's writing about and how public it becomes?

Be Careful What You Post on the Internet by itshysterekal (oneshot | 19,117 | E)

Bucky just wants to get on to the next mission, but the therapist he's forced to see insists he take up a hobby. Cue his writing of highly explicit Avengers RPF to make fun of Stark and his headlong dive into social media. He never expected a hobby to change his life.

September

THE Steve Rogers PROBLEM by relenafanel (series, ongoing | 85,015 | T-M)

Meet SSA Bucky Barnes: Hostage Rescue Team member extraordinaire. He loves his job, his body, and hooking up. He hates civilians and local enforcement officers trying to do his job and fucking everything to shit.

Meet Bucky Barnes: fan of the television show The Howling Commandos extraordinaire. He loves writing fanfic, creating fanart, and staring at Steve Rogers' ass. He hates the long journey of doing the necessary physical therapy on his arm (and also that no one told him he knows Steve Rogers).

Meet Bucky Barnes: Steve Rogers' boyfriend. He loves Steve. He hates the idea of that being his sole identity.

Green (Heart)-Eyed Monster by TheIntelligentHufflepuff (oneshot | 1,822 | T)

He shakes his head, tries to turn away. But his eyes rove back, insatiable. Steve is spinning Sam, goofily. Sam stumbles, and Steve instinctively grabs Sam to his chest to keep him up.

For a wild, petty moment, Bucky wishes he'd just fall.

[Post-Endgame, except an Endgame where nobody died. Bucky gets drunk and jealous at the after-party, but makes up with Sam and gets together with Steve the next day]

Love's Just a Feeling by fadefilter, Mystrana (complete | 26,359 | E)

Not Without You is on tour, and the lucky fans at their sold out shows are always treated to the best show: great music and excellent entertainment, courtesy of Steve and Bucky, who can't seem to keep their hands off of each other—both onstage and off.

The tour's almost over, but Steve's got a bit of a problem. Despite constantly reassuring the rest of the band that neither of them will develop feelings...

...he's pretty sure he's developed some feelings.

No Retreat, Baby, No Surrender by itsnotbleak (complete | 39,792 | T)

"You think your old army buddy is working at Subway?”

“Of course not,” said Steve, trying to sound like he thought the idea was ludicrous. “Bucky died in 1944. I just...” He didn’t know what to say, so he slapped on his best lonely soldier face and lied. “It’s just it’s nice to pretend for a bit, you know?”

“No,” said Natasha. “It sounds deeply unhealthy, but you do you.”

In which Steve finds a man that looks a lot like Bucky making sandwiches in a Brooklyn subway. Except Bucky died seventy years ago, and this guy shows no sign of remembering Steve.

The Boy With The Thorn In His Side by BetteNoire (WeAreWolves) (restricted, complete | 21,980 | E)

“Holy shit,” says Steve. “I’ve been knocked out twice by the same guy.”

Introduction to Fake Dating Your Best Friend 101 by crinklefries (oneshot | 24,627 | T)

Bucky stares at his best friend as though he’s absolutely lost what’s left of his dumbass mind.

“Excuse me?” he asks dumbly.

Steve sighs and sags back onto the couch, covering his face dramatically with one large, well-manicured hand.

“Dean Coulson thinks we’re dating. And gay. But like, for each other. And now I need you to fake date me so I can convince the Chancellor to fund my research.”

or;

Steve and Bucky are a pair of professors who have to fake date for academic purposes and are real dumb along the way. It's not so much a forest of pine as a whole landscape of it. It turns out fine, probably.

Beyond the Yellow Book Road by crinklefries (complete | 30,057 | T)

Before he was Captain America, he was Steve Rogers, knobby kneed and wild-eyed, with scrapes on his knuckles and a book in his hands.

In 1942, he leaves for war and eventually crashes the Valkyrie.

That's only the beginning of his story.

In 2011, Steve's body is dragged from ice off the coast of Greenland.

In 2015, he meets a bookstore clerk.

This is what happens when a superhero loses his way home and the only way back is through the Yellow Book Road.

October

In The Next Life We'll Be Good by Nori (series, ongoing | 83,018 | M) (reread)

Steve is resurrected 500 years into the future. Humanity is on the brink of extinction, hostile aliens are clawing at the door, and the only thing standing in the way are Guardians. Figuring out how, exactly, to be a Guardian doesn't come easily for Steve, no matter how much he wants to protect the innocent. Luckily for him, he has friends who're more than willing to show him the way.

---

Breaking your hand doesn’t actually help in any way,” a voice says from behind him. Steve twists at the waist, less surprised than he probably ought to be.

“Hey,” Steve says, feeling a smile breaking over his face. “You’re all about clandestine meetings, huh?”

“Maybe I wanted to be a spy in my last life,” the scout replies breezily, drifting like a shadow to stand adjacent to Steve.

Far Strayed* by eyres (complete | 18,344 | M) *chose not to warn

They’re not going to stop coming after me,” Bucky tells Steve, somewhere in the air above Siberia.

“Let them come,” Steve replies, furious still.

After Siberia, instead of seeking refuge in Wakanda, Bucky and Steve go on the run.

The Biggest Part of Me* by Anna_Heyward (complete | 69,992 |E) *chose not to warn

Newly divorced single dad Steve Rogers moves his kids from the suburbs to Brooklyn to start their new life together, and becomes captivated by the young man who works at the coffee shop downstairs from Steve’s apartment.

Bucky Barnes is 25 years old, working part-time in a coffee shop and still living with his mom. When a handsome single dad in a pinch offers Bucky a job as his nanny, Bucky takes him up on it.

(AU of the movie The Rebound.)

Part 1 of The Biggest Part of Me 'verse

Knit One, Purl Two, Is How I Say "I Love You"* by Ignisentis (oneshot | 4,636 | T) *chose not to warn

Bucky looks up from the book he’s reading at the sound of the familiar gentle clacking of the wooden needles Steve has always preferred to use when he’s knitting. He used to knit back in the day whenever he wasn’t drawing. He said it helped calm him down, that he liked making things, especially for Bucky, that it made him feel like he was contributing more since it was hard for him to hold down a regular job.

Bucky thought it was all of those things but also that Steve Rogers was never the kind of man who could keep his hands still.

He used to knit Bucky socks and hats and scarves whenever he could get his hands on some yarn. He’d always wanted to make a sweater but never could get the same kind of yarn in sweater quantities.

Now, though. Now Bucky has a handful of sweaters that Steve’s made for him: a cable-knit fisherman’s sweater with a shawl collar; a simple pullover; a replica of Steve’s WWII dancing monkey sweater he wore on stage that Steve gave him with a smirk; a chunky Tweed cardigan with elbow patches; the lightest, most sumptuous cashmere henley-style pullover; even a Fair Isle with the Ghostbusters symbol worked into the yoke. Fuck, but Bucky loves that movie. And the sweater.

i just called to say i love you* by brideofquiet (oneshot | 7,895 | T) */others

Both times Steve makes a fool of himself in front of the soccer coach, it’s mostly an accident.

Grass, Fire, Water? My Only Weakness Is You! by powercrow (complete | 52,725 | E)

Steve first notices Bucky at a Pokémon GO raid at the local Target.

He’s immediately intrigued, but interpersonal relationships have been a real struggle since his mother’s death. Bucky’s not without his own bullshit after the disastrous end of a prior relationship. PoGo somehow brings them together anyways, and they become friends, catch lots of Pokémon, deal with their issues, and eventually fall in love.

November

You can't hurry love by obsessivereader (oneshot | 8,547 | E)

“Jesus!” Steve hurries forward. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Before he’s even halfway into the room, the man’s already on his feet and turning around. He has a face as perfect as his ass. High forehead, square jaw, pink lips with a hint of a natural pout. Short, wavy, dark brown hair. His wide, deep-set eyes are a clear and luminous gray. Those eyes widen as the man takes in the sight of Steve staring at him.

Something about that wide-eyed, slightly nervous look catches at Steve’s memory. “Bucky?”

Steve remembers a shy, sweet teenager, with soft round cheeks, eyes too big for his face, and a wild head of hair. If this really is Bucky, some time in the last few years, he grew into his face and is now so gorgeous that Steve’s having a little trouble breathing. The lean, toned body beautifully displayed by a black shirt and gray pants don’t help the breathing situation either.

“You… have a beard now,” Bucky says faintly.

or, Bucky finally gets to do something about his decades-long crush on his best friend's older brother...

Part 1 of Happy Steve Bingo!

Stay with Me* by em_dibujsb, maikurosaki (complete | 79,903 | E) *graphic violence

When Bucky Barnes accompanies his family to a ceremony dedicated to George Barnes' activity, he expects free food and drinks, the occasional boring speech, and watching his dad blush furiously as he gets to finally meet his childhood hero. What he doesn't expect is saving Captain America's life and getting shot in the process. What follows is a slow road to recovery, eating hospital food (still disgusting), making new friends (Avengers!!! Seriously, the Avengers!) and pining over Captain America (he won't comment on that). It sounds simple, but it really isn’t!

Anything You Ask by thepinupchemist (oneshot | 6,187 | E)

A skinny blond kid appears in Bucky's candy store, and when her frantic father comes looking for her, Bucky doesn't realize he just met his mate. Over the course of several months, he falls in love with Steve Rogers and his daughter. Fortunately, they love him right back.

Poppies of the Field* by kaasknot (complete | 63,417 | M) *chose not to warn, temporary major character death

"Thank you for purchasing a StarkTech Companion 'Bot! Please state your name for licensing."

Wherein Bucky is a severely agoraphobic combat veteran, and Steve is the android he buys out of loneliness.

So Alive by GottaSaveBucky (Cosmic_Entity_1of4) (complete | 108,978 | E)

A man wearing a light denim jacket over a dark blue shirt came into the shop, a box tucked under his right arm. Despite it being late afternoon, he was wearing sunglasses with bright blue lenses, and his long, dark hair was pulled back in a messy little bun. A few strands had escaped, framing his strong, unshaven jawline. The man looked into the café, smiled widely, and waved in Clint’s direction as he kept walking into the bookstore, and Steve’s mouth went completely dry.

Beautiful, was the only word to describe that smile; straight, white teeth framed by full, lush, red lips, bracketed by laugh lines and an adorable dimple in his right cheek, a charming little chin cleft just visible under the light stubble—Steve was struck literally speechless. And that was before he got a glimpse of the man’s backside. Slim hips and a round, firm-looking ass led to long, lean legs that were encased in snug, dark blue jeans.

“Guh,” Steve said, watching the dark-haired man continue on to the back of the store.

__________

A bookstore AU starring our favorite OTP, set to the song “So Alive” by Love and Rockets (from their fourth album “Love and Rockets,” 1989).

** COMPLETED **

Part 1 of Brooklyn Heights Books

backs treat boys by rohkeutta (oneshot | 2,570 | M)

“What? No, you’re not boring,” Steve protests, bless his heart. “It’s just—I have this kink in my back, probably from work or the gym. It’s hard to get comfortable.”

“Where?” Bucky asks, looking back down at his tablet and swiping to the next slide. He took a beginners' massage therapy course at the community college last summer to keep himself from doing something dumb, like fucking his way through the city because he was bored while Steve was on a work thing in Europe. Missing his best buddy was perfectly okay, but even Bucky, a self-proclaimed Cheerful Thot, felt it might be a little excessive to go on a one-night-stand binge just because his pal was out of town for a few weeks.

Part 9 of a pocketful of mumbles

Metallurgy by eyres, TheFriendlyPigeon (complete | 22,129 | M)

he battle quieted for the moment, the great metal giant turns, at last, and sees Steve. Dark, almost human hair frames a sharp, steel face - but, Steve is caught by its eyes. They’re bright silver, sparking in the sunlight, shot through with gray and blue, visible even at this distance. Something about them nags at Steve, calls to him, reminds him of…

Instead of making the Winter Soldier, Hydra transfers Bucky's consciousness to a metal body, locking his mind within a prison of steel and programming. However, Bucky is stronger than they could've ever imagined.

Press Play to Start by layersofsilence, talkplaylove-art (talkplaylove) (complete | 31,502 | M)

Steve still doesn’t understand; and then he does, or he thinks he does, in a burst of clarity that he immediately wishes he hadn’t gotten.

The thing is that it’s not possible. James shifts his position ever so slightly; his shoulders shift smoothly under his tac gear, and it’s not possible that Steve could be programming another human.

CA:TWS AU - in which Steve Rogers, SHIELD agent, finds out that HYDRA is not so old and defeated a foe, and that the Winter Soldier is more than a whispered rumour.

Something that Feels Like Hope by BeaArthurPendragon (oneshot | 7,669 | E)

Captain America, feeling gloomy around the holidays and exhausted from hobnobbing with the rich and famous at yet another charity gala, escapes into an empty room for some peace and quiet.

Army veteran James Barnes is the founder of the Gulmira Project, which provides high-quality prostheses to civilians injured in the Afghanistan and Iraq Wars, and needs to find a place to practice his speech.

You'll never guess what happens next.

Eight Invitations* by alby_mangroves, RevolutionaryJo, Speranza (oneshot | 3,345 | E) *chose not to warn

Part 15 of 4 Minute Window

December

Cute Stitch Witch Discount by stevergrsno (noxlunate) (onesoht | 3,089 | T)

He’s barely finished with his drink when Bucky appears in front of him, a cup in hand. “Our famous cocoa,” He says, setting it onto the little table next to Steve, “On the house.”

Steve plucks the cup up off the table and cradles it close, inhaling the smell of chocolate and cinnamon. “Thank you,” Steve says, and then, “I can pay though, really.”

“Call it the cute stitch witch discount,” Bucky says with a wink before he’s turning away and disappearing behind the counter to take care of another customer.

In which Steve has magic, meets Bucky 70 years later, and as always, falls a little bit in love with him.

Part 24 of Happy Steve Bingo Fills

How to Woo the Winter Soldier* by writeonclara (complete | 21,566 | G) *chose not to warn

“I think I’m ready to date again,” Steve said.

“What,” Natasha said.

“What?” Clint said, lowering his binoculars. He blinked at the dumbstruck look on the Captain’s face, then followed his gaze to where he was staring dopily at—at the Winter fucking Soldier.

“Steve, no,” Clint groaned.

Or: Steve courts the Winter Soldier.

Ever Mine, Ever Ours by hitlikehammers (oneshot | 2,914 | E)

Steve goes back to return the Stones, for the sake of the universe.

The extra Pym Particles he palms when Bruce isn't looking, though? Those are for the heart he has now and the heart he took into the ice; those are for the loves he's known and held and lost and found, those—

Those are for the sake of his soul.

Avengers: Endgame Fix-It.

Gone, Baby, Gone by crinklefries (complete | 38,943 | M)

An entity known only by the name LEVIATHAN finds each of them, sending, initially a solitary text: Our name is LEVIATHAN. We have a job for you. You have three minutes to decide.

Well, what’s a group of bored, reckless thrill-seekers with very specific skills and long criminal histories to do? They needed the money and, well, it sounded fun.

[ or;

Steve is the head of a new criminal crew, Bucky is the getaway driver, Sam wears a LOT of bold outfits and gold jewelry, and the rest of the Avengers help too.

There's heists and fast cars in a neon-noir setting, but most importantly, Bucky wears a crop top that says be gay do crime and he is, in fact, gay and he does, in fact, do crime. ]

Home Is Wherever I'm With You by cydonic (complete | 88,570 | E)

This is what happens when you buy a house to flip having only seen the online images: you get more than you bargained for. Bucky Barnes brings all the tools to handle a dilapidated home, but he's hardly prepared for a smart-mouthed child (with poor aim), a crying baby, and the hottest dad he's ever seen in his life living right next door.

That House-Flipper!AU.

Part 1 of Flowers in our Eyes

Caramel Macchiato by littleblackfox (complete | 15,450 | E)

"You ate my bees," Bucky says. Because his own tongue fucking hates him.

Empires Fall, but Not Us by AidaRonan (oneshot | 21,611 | T)

When Steve was ten, he met a boy with a clockwork heart.

A cyberpunk tale of friendship, love, loss, and reunion; framed by the battle to bring hope and joy back to a City drowning under Hydra's rule.

No More Shame by thepinupchemist (oneshot | 3,287 | T)

“I think the Winter Soldier is going to our synagogue,” Billy said, apropos of absolutely nothing.

Or: Billy Kaplan helps Bucky Barnes find his way.

No, Mr. Bond, I Expect You to Pine by galwednesday (oneshot | 16,466 | T)

"Agent Rogers. We have to stop meeting like this." The Winter Soldier crouched in front of where Steve was slumped against the wall, hands and forearms glued to the stone behind him by some kind of sticky polymer. "Comfortable?"

"No," Steve lied. "My blood circulation has been cut off. I've lost all feeling in my hands."

"Oh, so I should probably cut you loose," the Soldier deadpanned.

"It's a medical emergency. You don't want to be responsible for me losing limbs, do you?"

"Tell you what, if you lose your hands, I'll make you some new ones." He held up his metal hand, smallest finger crooked. “Pinkie promise.”

Secret Agent adversaries-to-lovers AU where the Winter Soldier keeps tying Captain America to walls and sticking around to chat. Shut up, Natasha, it’s not flirting, okay? (It’s definitely flirting.)

Part 2 of The Adventures of Captain America, Not-So-Secret Agent

Proprietary Information by notlucy (complete | 85,141 | E)

Okay, so Bucky Barnes has a crush on Steve Rogers. The guy's gorgeous, talented and, oh yeah, the Chief Design Officer of the biggest tech company in the world. In other words: he's so far out of Bucky's league that he might as well be in a different stratosphere.

Part 1 of Additional Information

you, the moon by dirtybinary (oneshot | 2,339 | T)

Stimulus. The sight of one Bucky Barnes, age seventeen, best friend, roommate, favourite nuisance, coming home after work. Subject’s Response. A swoop of the stomach, like when one pointed one’s bike down that steep hill beside the church and pedalled really fast, but without the inevitable sprained ankles and bloody scrapes.

Steve likes Bucky. Bucky likes food and cats and girls and maybe, just maybe, Steve.

Steve deals with this very well indeed.

Local Raccoon Befriends Angry Chihuahua by charlesdk (oneshot | 15,314 | T)

Rogers was a tiny man. Bucky was sure he easily disappeared in a crowd and became invisible. He was tiny and short and skinny and didn't look like much. But his fists were clenched to his sides in anger, his jaw was jutted out, his boney shoulders were square, and his voice held more power than his body looked like it did.

Screaming and yelling and swearing like a damn sailor and asking for a fight, Bucky found him breathtakingly gorgeous. Like a tiny ball of energy and rage and justice that shined brighter than the fucking sun, punching his way through the evil and disgusting trash of the world.

Bucky never believed in love at first sight and the way his heart warmed and pounded at the mere sound of Rogers didn't really change his mind. But it did make him stop and stare, desperately reaching out for the feeling he felt when he looked at him because it was good and Bucky hadn't had good in his life in years.

OR – in which one armed veteran, suffering insomniac, and grump extraordinaire Bucky Barnes gets turned into a puddle of goo by the tiniest, angriest, most wonderful guy in the entire universe.

Stop Dragon My Heart Around by leveragehunters (Monkeygreen) (oneshot | 15,127 | T)

All Bucky had wanted was gold. A few jewels. Not a king's riches, not a prince's fortune, just enough he'd never have to worry about anything ever again. It was what had sent him racing to the dragon's cave when he'd overheard the news that the Prince had killed her.

But he should have known better. Nothing good ever came from eavesdropping, and nothing good ever came from listening to men in pubs, and now instead of gold, instead of jewels, he had an egg. A dragon egg, and no idea how he was going to keep it alive.

The dragon egg wasn't all he had, even if he didn't know it. He also had a full-grown dragon on his trail, one who'd sworn he'd find the egg--and the human who stole it.

I Know the Drill by castiowl (oneshot | 4,869 | T)

Bucky says some explicit things to his dentist while under the influence of anesthesia following a wisdom tooth removal. The rest is (embarrassing) history.

Our Broken Parts (Smashed on the Floor) by This Girl Is (non_sequential) (oneshot | 11,702 | E)

Steve is sent undercover to catch an elusive Russian assassin. He didn’t want to do it in the first place; he’s damn certain he won’t be asked again.

great whales of the sea by canistakahari (oneshot | 3,002 | T)

“Whales make sounds,” says Bucky, shocked.

“They sing,” Steve says absently.

show me your insides, show me your secrets (show what you wanted, so i can be it)* by voxofthevoid (oneshot | 8,731 | E) *chose not to warn

They took down a lab full of mutated animals today. It was normal enough at first, James with his metal arm and Steve with his shield, the two of them armed to the teeth with guns and knives. But then the creatures kept coming. Steve wrapped himself around a horse-sized something that might have been a wolf in another life and broke every one of its bones with a single, heaving squeeze of his limbs. James punched through the chest of a biped taller than him with his flesh arm and ripped its heart out for good measure.

There was no pretending after that.

James smiles at Steve, a small, heated thing.

“I want you to fuck me until I can’t talk."

“And if I say no?” Steve asks.

James shrugs, and the gesture is nonchalant, but Steve can see the tension underneath.

“Then I will be very disappointed, and I will leave and take my whiskey with me.” James tilts his head to the side, an animal-like motion that’s a strange cross between predatory and adorable. “But somehow, Captain, I don’t think you’ll say no.”

- Captain America and the Winter Soldier are assigned a joint mission by their respective masters. They are strangers until they're not.

Part 1 of lay your heart into my perfect machine

Yours is the Only Ocean by seapigeon (oneshot | 6,256 | T)

"Sirens aren’t monogamous. She’s free to mate with whoever she wants.” Steve turns his head, and for the first time, he looks tentative. “So am I.”

It takes Bucky almost a full minute to understand.

“Oh,” he says, going warm down to his tailfin.

A Puppy Dog's Tale by roe87 (oneshot | 1,630 | T)

Bucky finds a lost puppy running around in the park, but who does the pup belong to?

Part 24 of Steve/Bucky modern au's

a modern feast (from one-hundred-and-two feet) by Spacedog (oneshot | 3,061 | E)

steven grant rogers is a good neighbor. he vacuums at times that aren’t ten-thirty at night. all his parties end at nine on the dot. and when he brings someone home, he’s cool about it. which makes it even more a shame that 106, the guy living across the hall from him, with the big, blue eyes and the adorable chin dimple and the ass steve can bounce quarters off of, is practically a thoughtful, neighborly, ghost.

luckily, when steve needs something from the local bodega, he strikes an agreement that 106 is more than willing to oblige.

(or: alternate universe, neighbors to hookups to lovers.)

some of them want to use you (some of them want to get used by you) by voxofthevoid (oneshot | 14,136 | E)

He’s dragged forward, his thrashing not doing a thing against the hydra’s shocking strength. At its widest, his tentacle is as thick as Bucky’s wrist. It tapers off towards the end. It’s subtly textured, not slimy like expected, but no less terrifying for it. The hydra pauses once Bucky’s under the cave’s opening, halfway between Pierce and the darkness on the other side.

“Johann is dead,” says the hydra. “I killed him.”

The words mean nothing to Bucky. But when he twists around to see, Pierce’s face is bloodless.

It’s the first time he’s seeing true fear on Alexander Pierce’s face.

“The deal you made with him is null and void, Alexander Pierce,” the hydra says. “And your people shall be better off for it.”

Pierce’s face tightens further.

“But you,” the hydra says – no rumbles, his voice making the water tremble. “You, not so much. I don’t appreciate this sacrifice.”

- Bucky is chosen as his shoal's annual sacrifice to the hydra that lurks in their territory. Things take an unexpected turn when the monster that greets him in the dark turns out to be a wholly unfamiliar beast.

Discord and Rhyme by velvetjinx (oneshot | 9,148 | E)

Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes are werewolves. They have feelings for each other, but are too busy pining to notice that they both feel the same way. Their inner wolves have had enough, but will that be sufficient to bring them together as humans?

Rose-tinted Glasses by Niitza (oneshot | 11,215 | T)

It all started because of Becca.

All I Want for Christmas by Pineau_noir (oneshot | 8,377 | M)

We're gonna live like it's 2012! Everybody lives at the Tower and they're all happy! All the domestic fluff!

Steve is retired from action, living his best life, helping with the Avengers and gently flirting with his favorite art store employee, Bucky Barnes, at Christmastime.

Written for the incredibly kind and talented TrishArgh who won my 2019 FTH auction.

The Last Contract* by xantissa (oneshot | 29,681 | E) *graphic violence

The world was dying, at war for years with alien invaders who were slowly and methodically wiping out humanity. Steve’s hope for the future was nearly gone having fought a losing battle for so long. In what little free time he had, he looked for the dragon sleeping under an old castle that his mother had told him stories about. He knew it was just a fairytale, but at least it was something to do. He never expected to actually find a man locked in a cave filled with magic. Nor did he expect to agree to some strange bargain with him. Steve had expected him even less to actually be a dragon. In a world all but destroyed, can Steve survive the consequences of his own actions?

Once More With Foresight* by galwednesday (complete | 7,317 | T) *polyamory

Bucky left the towel draped over Steve’s head and pulled his phone out of his pocket when it chimed with a new text from Natasha. She’d sent him a picture of Sam asleep, his legs sprawled over the shield on one end of the couch and his head in her lap on the other. Bucky snorted and tilted the screen so Steve could see.

Steve shook his head, mock scandalized. “Captain America for five minutes, and he’s already using the shield as a footrest.”

“I know for a fact you scrambled eggs in that thing.”

“That was to feed my team, Buck. It was my sworn duty as field commander.”

“It was a dare from Jones.”

“So it was two things,” Steve said, and ducked out of Bucky’s half-hearted noogie attempt, pulling the towel back to use as a defensive barrier. Bucky sat on the couch beside him and leaned into Steve’s shoulder. It was sharper than Bucky remembered; Steve had lost weight since last week. Since five years ago.

If Only In My Dreams by odetteandodile (complete | 28,317 | T)

Bucky is a highly successful cooking and lifestyle blogger, the gay New England Pioneer Woman if you will. He writes all about life in his Connecticut home with his D.H. (darling husband). Only problem? It’s all complete fiction. He actually lives in a shitty Brooklyn apartment, is single as hell, and has visited Connecticut exactly one time at the age of eight.

When his agent Sam informs him that he's been offered an exclusive sponsorship deal with Stark Media and a three book contract to go with it, Bucky's forced to fess up to Sam, who's predictably...displeased. But Sam's also convinced the deal is too good to miss—even if they have to put on a little bit of a show in order to get it.

So Tony and Pepper descend on Bucky and Sam's fake home for Christmas with a devastatingly handsome War Hero in tow, and their already complicated plan quickly gets even more complicated as Bucky finds himself falling head over heels for Steve. Can he keep it together just for the holidays? Did he ever have it together in the first place?

Not Without You* by SevereStorms, wreckingthefinite (complete | 94,402 | E) *graphic violence

Six months earlier, Bucky would have said the prospect of dying back home in Brooklyn sounded like a dream. Now, faced with his own imminent demise in a Brooklyn that is almost unrecognizable, it’s decidedly less appealing.

Honestly, it’s just sort of bizarre. Survive Afghanistan and come home to die in the pseudo-zombie apocalypse. Can’t make this stuff up.

Servitum by justanotherStonyfan (complete | 42,745 | E)

Steve appears in the hallway, and James turns his head to look at him, doesn't move otherwise. Steve’s in pale blue jeans and a white button down with the four buttons open and his tag chain visible beneath, which is sexy as fuck, but it’s even sexier when he towers over James like this.

"James?" Steve says, and he's not worried, James can tell. He's on the edge of it, sure - he's bemused, and prepared for something to be amiss - but he's not worried yet, so James closes his eyes for a moment.

"Help," he says, and then looks up at Steve. "I've fallen and I can't get up."

Part 28 of Honey Honey

Wenceslas by dragongirlG, mcl4r3n (complete | 17,915 | M)

Steve is a short, skinny Brooklynite with a very stable, predictable life, which he built after losing his memories in a traumatic accident six months ago. He works from home on a steady stream of art commissions, goes to weekly trivia nights with his superhero friends the Avengers, and tries not to get bothered by the constant feeling that something is not quite right.

When Steve invites a homeless man with one arm to take shelter in his apartment during a December snowstorm, both of them enter a dreamscape that unravels the fabric of their memories and reveals the truth about their identities—and their relationship to each other.

A wintertime fic featuring dream-sharing, identity porn, and Steve in the 21st century, inspired by the movie Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and the musical composition Wenceslas Suite by Bob Chilcott. Now complete!

Scenes From A Marriage: Captain America At Home by alby_mangroves, lim, Lunate8, RevolutionaryJo, Speranza (complete | 19,239 | E)

Welcome to the 4 Minute Window Advent calendar for 2019! As always, my goal is to tell a little bit of story in this universe each day (knock wood) between the Immaculate Conception and Christmas. Explicit eventually, the rest as it comes. This year there's loads of multimedia, as you might glean from the list of contributors.

Part 16 of 4 Minute Window

#mod picks #mod blue

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everlastingcaptainswan · 4 years

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Contractual Attraction (11/?)

Enchanted Forest AU

Summary: The war had raged on for many years, the people of Misthaven would say too many, and there was only one way to end it, only one way to quiet talks of rebellion. Princess Emma of Misthaven would have to marry the enemy, Prince Killian of Montave.

Notes: It’s finals week and let me tell you online school is terrible, but I’m almost done with my bachelors! It’s exciting and exhausting. Hopefully you guys enjoy the chapter!

FF Ao3

Chapter Eleven: Imminent Danger

Emma gathered her parents and Leo the next morning deciding that she should tell them about Killian’s plan without him. Let them be angry at her then bring him in later, after cooler heads prevailed.

“This is what he wanted his ship for?” Snow asked, truly stumped.

“But why not ask for something in the treaty?” David wondered out loud.

“Cause the brothers are used to using their military minds, not being diplomats,” Emma sighed.

“What do you want to do?” Snow raised an eyebrow at her daughter, unsure of what she will ask for.

“I want to help them. We can’t let their people starve. How much can we afford to give them?” Emma began pacing in their war room, worrying running throughout her entire body.

“Depends on what they could give us in return.” Emma stopped pacing and looked at her mother.

“But-”

“No buts, Emma. Nothing is free in this world. I’m willing to help, but they viciously attacked our farmers in the war, we have less than I would like, in case of god knows what. If they could propose a trade, something for our people then I’d be willing to give more.” Snow gave her daughter a stern look. Emma was about to plead their case when David stood, “Why don’t you go get the prince, he can help negotiate a trade.” Her father almost pushed her out of the room. When the door shut behind her Emma glared at it. She stomped her way up to Killian’s room, knocking on his door.

Killian opened his door in a hurry, worry on his face, “what have they decided?” Emma pushed past him into his room. Killian stood cautiously in the doorway, looking back at her.

“They- ugh my mother. I-” Emma shook her head. Killian stalked over to Emma, placing his hands on her shoulders.

“Take a deep breath. Gather yourself.” Emma closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath. When she opened them, his blue ones were staring deeply into hers.

“What happened?” he asked her with all the calm he could muster.

“Mom wants a trade. Whatever you could give, I wanted to just help. She can hold a grudge and didn’t take kindly to the fact that your men burned our farmer’s fields.” Killian dropped his hold on her and shook his head.

“I never felt right about doing that. Our father always initiated that move and our generals continued it after his death. Anyway, we can trade the sins of the father and all that.” He nodded solemnly. Emma wanted to say something, but knew they didn’t have time.

Emma turned and held out her hand to him, he took it without hesitation. Killian followed her down to the war room, hell he’d probably follow her to the ends of the realm, maybe even time itself.

Emma let go of his hand once they reached the door of the war room. Killian opened the door for her and waited for her to go through. Emma began to pace again, watching the interaction between Killian and Snow. The door shut behind Killian, who strode up to the table.

“I hear a trade is in order.”

“Our people need to eat too; I can’t abandon them for yours.” Snow quirked an eyebrow at him.

“I understand. When we came into port, I noticed there weren’t many fishing boats in the harbor. We have plenty of fish, we could trade fish for some grain, seeds.”

“We have a deal. Emma write down the details.” Emma glared at her mother and gathered a scroll and quill. As Killian and Snow talked Emma scribbled down the details of their agreement. Leo left to sit as proxy in a meeting Snow was supposed to be in. David chimed in occasionally, never taking his eyes off the prince.

“Your ship should be here next week. We will quietly begin to gather what you need, and you can meet your men in the safe house to give them the details.” Snow straightened her back

“Where is the safe house?” Killian asked.

“Emma can show you later. Now, I have other matters to attend to. Make sure that paperwork gets to Doc and we’ll sign it,” Snow addressed the last part to Emma. Snow and David left swiftly. Emma gathered the papers off the table. As she moved toward the door, Killian reached out and grazed her hand with his.

“Thank you, love.” Emma nodded, not quite meeting his eyes.

“At dusk we’ll go down to the safe house. Meet me at the stables.” Emma shut the door behind her and Killian sighed. He felt like they were back at square one.

Killian does as he was told and went to the stables at dusk. He wore his black vest, pants, and his long leather jacket. Killian was trying to blend in tonight, and it didn’t hurt that he always caught Emma eyeing his chest hair when he wore his vests.

Killian chose Orion again when Emma came in wearing a plain grey dress and dark green cloak. Aside from her beauty she could almost pass for a villager. Emma goes to Buttercup, uttering soothing words.

“How long will it take to get there, love?” Emma flicked up the hood of her cloak and tucked her blonde curls into it.

“About an hour more or less. We’re taking the back roads into town.” She told him. He caught her eye and she quickly looked away. They rode out of the stables in silence, Killian supposed he had earned her distance and silent treatment, but it hurt, nonetheless. They made their way swiftly through the countryside and into the village. They took the back roads as Emma said and ended up tying up their horses in the back of a house that was close to the harbor. Killian paid attention to every twist and turn they had taken through town in case he ever had to come alone. Neither of them said a word until Emma unlocked the back door and shut it behind them.

The house was pitch black and Emma deftly moved her way around the house lighting a couple candles so they could see.

“You’ve been here a lot?” Killian glanced around the house, taking in the cozy surroundings. Emma was moving toward the fireplace when Killian stopped her.

“You’re going to have to look at me at some point, love.” Her jaw clenched when he called her that. She sighed and turned her head in his direction. Emma opened her mouth then shut it again.

“Are you going to be mad at me forever?”

“Perhaps, I hadn’t decided yet,” she mumbled, “After my parents forbade me from being on the battlefield, I was a nurse. Eventually that was too hard for me to be so close to the battlefield and not be out there with my men. I was held back several times, eventually I had to leave. I had to do something however I was never much for sitting still. So, we ran spies from this house. They would get their assignments from me, come back, and debrief here.”

“Did you live here the whole time?” He asked, noting her ease and knowledge of the house as she began looking through cabinets.

“Mostly yes, occasionally I went home. Ruby joined me here more often than not to bring supplies and whatnot.”

“What are you looking for?”

“I was just seeing what food stores we left here, if any. The house was cleaned out of anything.” Emma sighed, flopping into a chair tired after the events of the day. Killian pulled out a flask and handed it to her.

“Not dinner, but will keep you warm while I get this fire started.” Her hand brushed his as she accepted the flask. Killian turned his back on her and found some flint, kindling, and logs beside the fireplace. Emma took a big gulp, knowing they weren’t going anywhere tonight.

“Rum?”

“Never far without it, doesn’t hurt to have it in a pinch.” Emma hummed, taking another swig.

“I know you feel like I betrayed you by not telling you about my intentions. I am sorry about that, but I was doing so to protect and save my people. Can you tell me you wouldn’t do the same?” Killian turned back to her after the fire was started. She blinked a few times.

“No, I suppose I can’t.” Killian stood at her side, the fire roaring behind him. His hand rested on her shoulder. Her jade eyes caught his blue ones.

“It won’t happen again. You’re right we’re partners, that being said there’s one last thing I have to tell you.” His tone and demeanor were serious. It caught her attention. He pulled a chair out from the table she was sitting at.

“What is it?”

“Liam and I have been looking for a way to end this war for five years now.” The words hit Emma like a brick wall.

“What?”

“This war was our father’s idea, his ultimate legacy he used to say. He was right in that sense, he died before it was over, and it lasted even when he was gone. Liam and I spent most of our formative years training and leading our men, we spent time on the front lines. Our father never did. He didn’t see the carnage, the true horrors of war. He didn’t see what it did to our villages, our people. He just cared about the land gained, resources that were now his. My father was a harsh man and didn’t take well to our dissent, so eventually we stopped voicing it and found little ways to ruin his plans that could never be brought back on us. We thought that when he died that we could end it and bring peace back to the realm.” He said steadily, as if he had practiced this speech before.

“Your father died five years ago…”

“Yes, then the problem was his generals after years of being under his rule they were just as hungry for war as he was and had grievances of their own by then. Our people were mad too, their King dead, everyone still wanted the war to be a victorious win. Otherwise if we ended this war a coup would’ve taken place. Liam and I decided to bide our time. Liam wanted to insure one final victory before ultimately leading to stalemate.”

“The capture of Arendelle..” Emma was in shock and he kept talking, kept telling her everything.

“Aye, our advisors were also urging him to pick a bride and soon. They wanted to secure the line of succession.” He barreled on. Emma stood up at this point. Killian’s eyes widened; he was watching her every move.

“I lost my magic six years ago…” She trailed off. All the scenarios running through her head. Maybe if the brothers were successful and Montave was seen to be surrendering Emma wouldn’t have lost her magic. Regina wouldn’t have been as big of a threat. Her family could’ve come together to defeat Regina, not just Emma. The plan would’ve been different, everything would’ve been different. All of the maybes and what ifs were making her head spin.

“Emma, I-” She cut him off with a glare.

“No, you really should stop talking now. You’re telling me that war has been pointless for years now, that we were always headed here. That our men died for nothing, all because you two didn’t have the support to end it. Don’t get me wrong, I get it you couldn’t come out against your father, but Killian everything I’ve done has been for nothing! That the curse was for nothing! That losing my magic was for nothing!” She practically yelled at him.

“I-” Killian stuttered. He was just trying to be honest with her and have her understand that he was on her side. He opened his mouth and stuck his own damn foot in it.

“Why now? Why have Elsa propose the treaty?” She snapped.

“The people’s opinion turned on the war, there were talks of riots and rebellions. With that we were able to change our general’s minds.” He answered not sure of what she would ask next. Emma curled her hand into a ball. What she wanted to do was to lash out and use her magic, she wanted that familiar warmth back in her body. His revelation gave her a flicker of hope and she hated herself for feeling it.

“Emma, I’m sorry I never thought- I didn’t want another secret to come out and hurt you, hurt us.” Killian stood up once more and moved to her. Emma stepped out of his reach, backing away towards the door. Every step she took hurt his heart.

“I understand, I need a minute.” Emma so badly wanted to run away, but they couldn’t reveal their location. Instead she left the room and went upstairs to the room she used while running the house. Emma slammed the door behind her. She paced in front of the window, trying to calm down. For the first time since Killian placed the ring on her finger, she wanted to rip it off. Her hand traced over it, but she couldn’t do it and she didn’t know why.

Emma couldn’t change the past even if she wanted to, even if she had her magic. It was one of those things that was part of dark magic that Emma never dared to touch or even consider. She just longed for a world that wasn’t consumed and torn apart by war. Emma wanted her magic back. A sob ripped through her, she had never admitted those words to herself because what was the point, she couldn’t have it back, why want it?

Emma kicked her boots off and climbed into the bed, letting the warm blankets envelope her. Her tears soaking the pillow beneath her, sleep overcoming her.

Killian sighed when he heard a door somewhere slam shut. He just rocked her world and he knew it. He never imagined how this news would change everything for her. He can’t seem to get it right with her. He took several swigs of rum and decided to roam about the house and become familiar with it. If his men would be stationed here for the time being, then he would have to be here too. Killian wandered through several bedrooms on the ground floor, an office, and the kitchen once more. The office had been cleared of any materials or documents. Killian found some paper and ink with a quill. He snatched it up and wrote out a letter to Liam. His brother could reason with him better than anyone, he would know what to do about this predicament with Emma. Liam would have the best advice for him because Killian watched Liam struggle with his feelings for Elsa for many years now.

Killian left the cold dark office to pen his letter next to the light and warmth of the fire. It took him a while to find the right words to explain what had happened between him and Emma. He was so absorbed in the letter he didn’t hear her descend the stairs.

Emma was barefoot with a blanket wrapped around her, her eyes slightly puffy and red. Killian hadn’t dared go up the stairs where she had gone. He wanted to give her the appropriate space to process everything.

“Just grabbing some water.” Emma went to her pack and grabbed her canteen. She took a swig and gave him a sheepish look.

“I shouldn’t have snapped at you earlier.”

“No, love I understand completely why you did. I should’ve- honestly, I don’t know what I should’ve done. Not telling you meant it could’ve come out later and telling you seemed to have hurt you too.” Killian shook his head.

“A double-edged sword.” He blinked a few times before nodding.

“Aye, it was. Do you miss your magic?” He watched her as she took the chair across from him.

“Every day, it was like losing a limb. My magic manifested when I was five, scared my parents to death,” when he gave her a questioning look, she continued on, “I didn’t want to play with Leo, so I put an invisible barrier between the two of us.” Killian laughed at that.

“I can’t deny that sounds like something you would do...you barely ever mention it.”

“It seemed pointless to want or hope for such things when it’s not possible,” she shrugged. Her hand ghosting over the scars on her right arm.

“There’s no hope you could ever get it back?” Emma shook her head.

“We searched for a way to reverse the spell for a couple years. Nothing ever came of it, I eventually told them to give up. The glimmer of hope just to be let down again was too painful.” Killian reached out for her hand and she let him have it.

“I’m sorry, love.” She gave him a faint, weak smile.

“It’s okay there’s nothing you can do about it. See you found the office, who’s the letter to?” She nodded toward the paper scattered on the table.

“If I could do something I would. And ah Liam, just ramblings of a younger brother who has few friends in a strange kingdom.” He smirked as did she. Killian gathered up the papers and folded them to place in an envelope he took from the desk.

“I’m going to bed; you can pick any of the rooms to sleep in. We’ll head back to the castle before sunrise.” Her hand slipped out of his hold as she stood up, adjusting her grip on the blanket.

“Aye goodnight, love.”

“Goodnight.” She brushed her lips across his cheek, a blush rising in his cheeks after realizing what she had done. Maybe there was hope for them after all. With her body so close to his Killian clenched his fist, he wanted so badly to reach up to her hip and hold her close to his side. He had to reign in those feelings.

Emma gave him one last lingering look before heading back up the stairs. When she looked at him like that his heart would stop, it’s like she saw him. Killian sighed and placed the letter in his pack before heading up to get some shut eye as well.

They reached the castle just as the sun was rising in the morning. Neither of them got much sleep last night and Emma desperately wanted to slip into her bed and sleep for a couple more hours. Ruby met them at the door, her arms crossed. Never a good sign.

“Rubs not that I don’t love you, but why the hell are you up and waiting for us?” Emma approached her.

“Emergency council meeting, everyone is waiting for you two actually.” Ruby told them, a nervous glint in her eye.

“Any hint to what this is about?” Killian asked, looking from Emma to Ruby then to Emma again.

“It’s urgent, Snow didn’t say more than that.” Ruby shook her head.

“Great, well let’s not keep them waiting.” Emma said, sarcasm dripping from her voice. Ruby gave her a sympathetic smile and led the way. Without thinking about it Emma fumbled for Killian’s hand. He grabbed it and squeezed it tightly. Emma looked at him with worry in her eyes. He knew whatever was coming wasn’t good if she was looking at him like that. Ruby didn’t miss their connected hands or the looks they exchanged, she simply smiled and kept her mouth shut, for once.

They entered the war room and Leo, David, Snow, Graham, and August were sitting there waiting for them. August straightened up when they entered. Ruby, Emma, and Killian took their seats quickly.

“You may begin,” Snow nodded. Graham looked to August.

“This was more your quest than mine. Tell them what you found.”

“I guess it was. In Arendelle the Dark One’s visit bothered me, it seemed odd that he would just show up. How did he even know Emma used magic for mere seconds, from far away? It didn’t add up, he couldn’t be watching her at all times. So, when we were there, I asked around seeing if maybe he had another reason to visit, really to find out if anything out of the ordinary had happened. The same day he was there a magical vase went missing. I didn’t think this was a coincidence, so his visit had two purposes and his proximity might explain how he knew Emma used magic. The vase apparently can hold people indefinitely. It got me thinking what he was up to, so I started looking around more to see if there were other stolen objects. There were, a wand hidden in a mountain cave that vanished last week, a gauntlet that is supposed to give the user courage was taken, the mirror in the Evil Queen’s castle is now gone, and I’m sure there are more I don’t know about.” David leaned forward on the table,

“What do you think all this means?”

“That he’s planning something big and we need to be prepared.” August concluded. Emma stood up from her seat and went to the frosted window, her hands gripping the windowsill. If she still had her magic this wouldn’t be a problem. It almost made her blood boil, it was so frustrating to have it close, but not be able to use it.

“We still have the protections from the fairies, or do you mean something more?” Leo asked, looking around the room.

“More. We need Emma to have her magic.” August said nervously. Emma spun around at this point.

“I would like that too, but we explored all the options last time it’s not possible.” Emma crossed her arms. Snow and David exchanged a guilty look.

“Emma, it is. We just never…” Snow shuddered.

“None of us could stomach it. There’s a difference,” Emma snapped.

“The Dark One is gearing up for a fight or some big terrible plan of his. We don’t have a choice. He’s not just a threat to everyone in this room, but also the kingdom,” Graham told her sternly. Emma narrowed her gaze at him. They hadn’t spoken since the ball, he needed space and time to get over her. His tone told her that Graham was still upset with her.

“Will someone please tell me what is going on? I thought there wasn’t a way to get it back.” Killian only has eyes for Emma. Sometimes she thought that those piercing blue eyes could stare straight through to her soul, like he could see her heart. The rest of the world would melt away when he did that, like nothing else mattered.

“There isn’t.”

“There is, technically the spell can be reversed if the spell is not actively holding someone anymore,” David explained, “If the Evil Queen is dead the curse won’t have anything to hold onto, Emma’s magic will come back.”

“In theory it’s never been confirmed, we think that’s what will happen,” Emma added, shaking her head.

“Why didn’t this happen?” Killian’s brow furrows, confusion on his face.

“Snow was almost raised by the woman, and couldn’t. The rest of us…” David trailed off.

“Didn’t feel right killing someone who was defenseless,” Leo finished for his father. Killian’s gaze snapped toward Emma.

“You have plenty of loyal knights who I’m sure would do it for you…”

“We don’t do that here,” Snow started, “If the royal family can’t carry out the execution then it doesn’t happen. We can’t ask our men to do what we aren’t willing to do.” Emma was perched on the windowsill, her hands gripping the edge.

“I’ll do it.” Emma’s gaze snapped to Killian.

“No!”

“Emma, I told you last night I would do anything to help you with your magic, those weren’t empty words. I have no qualms about killing her, she’s caused you enough pain.” He stood from his spot at the table, turning toward her.

“It’s too dangerous, the cave she’s kept in has traps all over it. You’ll be lucky to get out alive,” she argued. He can’t be this stupid, this reckless, not for her.

“I can manage just fine; I have my wits about me.” He dismissed her concerns.

“I don’t want anyone risking their life for my mistake!” Killian walked over to her at this point, tilting her chin up.

“I don’t want that bloody Dark One near anyone I care about. I don’t want you defenseless.”

“I don’t want you dead!” She practically shouted at him, to make him understand. This wasn’t some simple mission, everything with this damn curse had consequences. This would not be the exception.

David cleared his throat and Emma and Killian jumped apart. Emma hadn’t realized how close they were. Killian scratched his ear, a blush evident in his cheeks.

“I’m serious, Killian. Nothing good will come from going after her. This damn curse has already taken something precious from me, I won’t let it take you too. Please, don’t do it.” Emma wasn’t sure if her pleas were falling on deaf ears, but she couldn’t stand here anymore. She needed a minute to breathe. This man couldn't be ready to go headfirst into danger for her. Emma stalked out of the war room and slammed the door behind her.

#cs #cs au #cs au fic #cs au ff #Captain Swan #captain swan ff #captain swan fic #captian swan #enchanted forest #Enchanted Forest AU #emma swan #killian jones #Princess!Emma #Prince!Killian #enemies to lovers #I hate you but I have to marry you #cs royalty #royalty au

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freudensteins-monster · 4 years

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A Banner Reunion

A WinterShock follow up to A Banner Day. Set post Age of Ultron and Ragnarok, not really Civil War compliant, and there’s no Thanos or looming Infinity War. Also posted on AO3.

The first person Bucky Barnes met as he stepped off the last quinjet out of Wakanda was Darcy Lewis. She looked more uptight than her file photo would suggest (Bucky had read the files of all facility staff on the flight over, and Darcy’s maybe twice), and seemed to have taken Pepper Potts as her style icon. The wavy brown hair from her file photo was pulled back in a tight bun, and the colourful sweaters and jeans had been replaced by a sharp business suit and sharper heels.

“Good morning, Sergeant Barnes. I’m Darcy Lewis. I manage the upstate facility and act as the team’s PR manager. I’ll also be acting as a liaison between the facility, your legal team, and other interested parties. If you have any questions, day or night, please don’t hesitate to contact me.”

She handed him a crisp white business card. Bucky took it with his shiny new Wakandan arm, noting a complete lack of reaction from Miss Lewis.

“Science Wrangler?” he read aloud.

“I have new ones on order,” she replied with a long-suffering sigh.

“Thank you, Miss Lewis,” he smiled, tucking the business card into his jacket pocket. “But all I really want to know right now is which way to the mess hall?”

Miss Lewis smiled, but before she could respond Steve clapped him on the shoulder and led him away for a second breakfast.

Over the next couple of weeks he received dozens of updates via Miss Lewis from his legal team about their attempts to have him cleared of all charges relating to the crimes he committed as the Winter Soldier (and the few he committed after), but he never saw her outside of their meetings. Not in the mess hall, not at team movie nights, not even in passing. According to Steve she was drowning in work and pretty much lived in her office. She needed help but had refused to hire assistants, not trusting the vetting process with all the enemies the Avengers had accumulated.

Feeling guilty, and just a little too curious for his own good, Bucky went in search of her office. He heard her before he saw her. It sounded like she was having the argument of the century with a disgruntled voice that reminded him of his old drill instructor. He was going to leave her to it and try again later when he heard his name being thrown about. He crept closer, keeping out of sight of Darcy and the holograph she was arguing with.

“How can you stand there denying the dangers posed by enhanced individuals when you’re harbouring the fugitive James Buchanan Barnes, the most prolific assassin in living memory?”

Bucky winced but Darcy narrowed her eyes at the hologram and stood her ground.

“Sergeant Barnes’ location is not a secret, nor is he a fugitive. He surrendered himself to the Wakandan authorities and per the agreement his legal representation made with the US government - which you’re well aware of, I remember how much you bitched about it in the press - he is on house arrest at this facility until his trial commences, if it ends up going ahead at all. And if you think he’s going to give up what little freedom he has now and could have in the future and sign this joke of a document, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Her opponent sneered. “Last I checked, Miss Lewis, you weren’t a lawyer.”

“Not yet, anyway. But I did pass my Civics 101 class, and I watched a lot of SchoolHouse Rock! as a kid: This is not a bill, or a law, or an official policy of the US Government. Even if it gets ratified by the UN, you cannot enforce it as it goes against the Constitution and violates a US citizen’s 4th, 5th, 6th, and 8th Amendment rights.”

“Wanda Maximoff-“

“-is a dual Sokovian-US citizen; I made sure of it. And if you can somehow round up a bunch of asshole commandos willing to enforce this PR nightmare to appease your bruised ego, the governor of New York - who gifted this land to the Avengers - and all his friends on Capitol Hill are going to have something to say about it. Especially after the so-called World Security Council tried to nuke his hometown while the Avengers were risking their lives to save his constituents from aliens. So,” she continued, tossing the intimidated stack of paper aside and waiting for it to hit her desk with a satisfying thump before continuing, “until you can put together something less offensive than this pile of crap, we don’t have anything more to talk about.”

“Listen here you little-“

“Sorry Thad, you’re breaking up. I think your country club is going through a tunnel.”

Darcy disconnected the holographic video call with a wave of her hand and fell into the closest chair with a dramatic groan.

“Wow…” Bucky remarked, stepping into her office. “I take it we don’t like that guy.”

“We really don’t like that guy,” Darcy concurred, tossing her heels across the room in irritation.

“What’s his deal?”

“General Ross’ deal is that he wants all the power. And since superheroes have lots of power he wants them, preferably conscripted into service of the US government or locked up in a submersible military black site paid for with taxpayer dollars that he thinks I don’t know about. He’s been this way ever since Bruce’s accident.” At Bucky’s lack of recognition she continued, “Bruce was trying to replicate the supersoldier serum for the US Military, reporting to General Ross. Things went boom, Bruce turned into the Hulk, escaped Ross’ clutches and went on the run. Under the guise of bringing the Hulk in, Ross approved another human trial of the supersoldier serum. He ended up creating what the media dubbed as “the Abomination” – twice the rage of the Hulk, none of the ability to reconnect with his humanity. And while Bruce was forced to go back into hiding for the next five years for his part in destroying Harlem, General Ross didn’t even get knocked down a rank. The bastard shouldn’t be able to breathe in DC’s direction, let alone have a hand in policing “enhanced individuals,” so naturally he makes a perfect choice for Secretary of State,” she scoffed.

Bucky watched her for a moment before reaching out to help her up from her chair. “You look like you could use a drink. C’mon, I’m buying.”

“Dude, it’s like 10am,” Darcy argued, but took his hand regardless.

Two floors down and one building over in the facility cafeteria Bucky watched on with barely disguised amusement as Darcy made love to her Mocha Frappuccino.

“Oh, yeah, that’s the stuff.”

She’d put on some flats and discarded her jacket before leaving her office, and once they were seated and waiting for their drinks she set her glasses down on the table and took down her hair.

Bucky loved the way she smiled when she was able to let go of the stress of her job, even if it was only for a moment, so he did what he could to give her more of them. Tuesday morning coffee breaks became a regular occurrence, and if she missed dinner Bucky would check in on her to make sure she took a break and ate something. Eventually he asked her to schedule all their meetings and anything to do with his legal issues as her last tasks of the day, that way if she was snowed under and running late he had an excuse to invite her to join him for dinner afterwards. He was working up the nerve to ask her to dinner without the pretense of work when the Asgardians arrived.

Steve stood beside him, watching as the huge ship landed just beyond the facility's - and Bucky’s - boundaries.

“So it’s true?” Darcy asked, out of breath from the short run from the administration building. “He’s really back?”

“Yeah, Thor’s back. You were there when he crash landed the first time, right?” Steve asked.

“She tased him,” Bucky informed him with a smirk. “I read the report.”

“Yeah, I totally tased him. And introduced him to Pop-Tarts. But I also lost him in the breakup – it’s been, like, almost two years since I last saw him.”

It didn’t stop her waving like a lunatic the moment Thor ambled down the spaceship’s ramp, a small village worth of people following close behind him.

“Oh, this is going to be so much paperwork…” Darcy muttered as the god caught sight of them.

“My friends! Lady Darcy!!”

“Thor! What the hell happened to your eye?” she asked when he wrapped her up in one of his godly hugs.

“It’s a long story, lightning sister.”

“Did you bring all of Asgard with you?” Steve asked as he and Bucky watched the strangely dressed visitors make the most of the sunshine and soft grass.

“As many as we could save,” Thor admitted somberly. “I know that their arrival will cause some problems for your world’s governments but any aid you could provide my people in our time of need would be gratefully appreciated. A new homeland, perhaps?” he added, managing to do pretty decent puppy dog eyes even with only one good one.

“I’ll make some calls,” Darcy offered, flashing Thor an indulgent smile.

“Thank you, my lightning sister. And for your efforts, I have brought you a souvenir.”

“Space souvenir? Cool!”

“Aye, very cool,” he smirked, putting a hand around her shoulders and directing her gaze to where a man wearing psychedelic monk robes was trying to make his way through the crowd of Asgardians.

Darcy’s expression fell and Bucky almost rushed to her side.

“Bruce?”

At the sound of his name the man looked up and regarded Darcy sheepishly.

“Hey, bunny.”

“Bruce!!” Darcy was off like a shot, shoes abandoned in the grass as she all but threw herself on the new arrival. “What the hell happened to you? I hacked everyone trying to find you but not even Phil had eyes on you. Why didn’t you call me!” she cried, hugging him so tightly Bucky was worried the guy might not be able to breathe.

“I’m so sorry Darcy. I was stuck in Hulk mode up until a couple of days ago. He was like a gladiator on this trash planet in the outer reaches of the universe. It was crazy.”

“Not as crazy as these clothes, dude,” she teased with a sniffle, tugging on the gold vestments.

“Yeah, they’re a lot. But I had to Hulk out again on Asgard and these were the only spare clothes lying around on the spaceship. Oh, I gotta introduce you to some new friends,” he exclaimed excitedly, leading Darcy back towards the spaceship.

Bucky watched her go, his heart breaking at the sight of her reuniting with her fella. She’d mentioned Bruce a few times, but he hadn’t realised they had been an item. Maybe, since he’d apparently disappeared on her, it had been too painful for her to talk about. Bucky left Steve and Thor to organise the SHIELD agents that had descended to deal with the alien incursion, and left Darcy to her reunion.

In the weeks that followed Bucky hardly saw Darcy at all. She was spearheading talks with the Norwergian government to establish New Asgard within their borders and spent the rest of her time managing the needs of the refugees who had set up a temporary camp in the field where they landed. She was also fending off demands for the arrest of Thor’s brother, who apparently was more hated and feared than the Winter Soldier was.

In an effort to reduce her workload Bucky had offered to deal with his legal team directly, even though he hated how they talked down to him when giving him updates. But it made Darcy’s life easier so he took it on, often bringing Steve in on their conference calls to act as a buffer when he felt he was close to snapping at one of his condescending but very, very good lawyers.

Now that he had no reason to bother Darcy he saw her even less than when he first arrived, though he did hear that Bruce had dragged her out of her office once or twice for a late dinner. They never seemed as touchy feely as they had when they were first reunited and they hadn’t spent any time alone together behind closed doors (not that he’d checked security footage). Maybe they weren’t together any more - a lot can happen in two years, Bucky mused. Maybe Bruce had moved on - he was always gushing about that intimidating and frequently drunk Valkyrie woman. Or maybe, Bucky hoped against hope, Darcy had. The question was keeping him up at night, and since Darcy was too busy to be bothered with his insecurities he sought out the famous Dr Bruce Banner.

Bucky found him a few days later, after another postponed coffee date, in one of the facilities labs, looking over some holographic schematics.

“Sergeant Barnes, it’s nice to see you again. What can I do for you?” Bruce greeted with a smile.

“I’m not interrupting?” he asked, gesturing at the complicated calculations.

“Not at all. It’s just a project Tony wants a second opinion on. It’s his way of saying “I missed you too,” he jested.

Bucky bit the bullet. “It’s about Darcy.”

“What about her?”

“I just… I feel like a real shitheel asking, but I gotta know; are you and Darcy together?”

“Together like…”

“Dating. Are you dating?”

Bruce’s eyes almost bugged out of his skull. “Did Tony put you up to this?”

“Stark and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms,” Bucky admitted.

“And Darcy never mentioned me? She said you two had been hanging out a lot before she got sidetracked with all the Asgardian refugee drama.”

“She mentioned you plenty. She just never mentioned that two of you were an item.”

“And she also never mentioned that I’m her father, I take it,” Bruce replied with a smirk.

“...What?”

“I’m her biological father. I am not dating her,” Bruce reiterated. “But I take it you want to?” he teased.

“Uh… yes?” he winced after his brain came back online after processing this new information. “Did you not want me to? I would understand,” he murmured, gesturing vaguely at his shiny new arm as though his bloody history was written on the metal plates.

“I don’t get to have a say in the matter,” Bruce remarked, not unkindly, as he returned most of his attention back to the glowing calculations. “and I’m kind of the last guy who should be giving you grief over things you did when you weren’t in full control of yourself. Besides, you’ve probably known her longer than I have at this point.” He smiled sadly at Bucky’s confused expression. “The first time I met Darcy was when she and Jane moved into Tony’s tower. She told me I was her biological father about two weeks later. Before that moment, I hadn’t even known I had a daughter. We had maybe three months of getting to know each other, eating takeout in my lab once a week, and then Ultron happened. I quite literally disappeared off the face of the earth. I come back, and she’s all grown up and practically running the world,” he laughed. “She’s also crushing pretty hard on a certain supersoldier, in case you were wondering.”

“Yeah, well, Steve is pretty cute I guess,” Bucky mused, ducking his head to hide the blush in his cheeks behind his hair.

Bruce smiled. “Ask her out, Sergeant.”

Bucky delivered a Mocha Frappuccino to Darcy’s office that night and asked her to have dinner with him whenever she found the time. She blushed something fierce as she said yes, and Bucky committed the image to memory.

A month later they were officially a couple, but with Darcy’s crazy workload and his looming trial they were taking things slow. He’d only kissed her goodnight a couple of times but he’d stopped resisting the urge he had to wrap Darcy up in his arms the second she was off the clock.

He was indulging in said urge the night of the Asgardian farewell party - the Norwegian deal had gone through pretty quickly all things considered, and Thor and the last of the Asgardians were heading out to New Asgard in the morning - when Tony Stark made his trademarked grand entrance. He had barely taken two steps out of his latest Iron Man suit when he pointed a finger in their direction.

“What’s the murderbot doing with his murderarm around my niece?”

“I’m not your niece, Tony,” Darcy called over everyone else's scolding.

“What are you talking about? Bruce is your bio dad, I’m his science bro; you’re totally my science niece.”

Darcy giggled. “That’s not a thing, Tony. And to answer your totally offensive question; we’re dating.”

“No, I forbid it.”

“You don’t get to have an opinion.”

“Of course I do. Everyone loves hearing my opinions.”

“We really don’t,” Bucky heard Steve mutter into his beer.

“I don’t want to hear them, Tony. I’m a big girl and I make my own choices.”

“You make terrible choices,” Tony mumbled petulantly.

“I tell Pepper the same thing all the time,” she teased.

“How dare you!” Tony gasped, feigning offence. “Do I at least get to give the Russian menace the shovel talk?”

“No, no shovel talks. I don’t want you scaring him off.”

“If the Hulk didn’t scare me off, doll, nothing will.”

“Awww.”

“That’s not the way I remember it,” Bruce chimed in.

“Shut up,” Bucky retorted over Bruce’s chuckles. “Besides, I already got the shovel talk from Valkyrie. She takes her role as angry-mom very seriously.”

“Who’s Valkyrie? Wait, did you say mom?!” Tony squawked, turning to demand answers from Bruce.

“Hulk like angry girl,” Thor teased.

“Where is she? Is she here? I have to meet her.”

“Tony! Tony, stop. She went to New Asgard two days ago. No! Step away from the suit!”

As everyone one laughed at Bruce trying to keep Tony away from his suit Darcy leant in close, sending a shiver down Bucky’s spine as she whispered in his ear.

“How about I say goodbye to Thor and you walk me back to my room, Sergeant?”

Bucky smiled. “Whatever you want, doll.”

#a banner reunion #darcy lewis is bruce banner's daughter #not that bucky knows that #wintershock #darcy lewis/bucky barnes #darcy lewis #bucky barnes #bruce banner #thor #steve rogers #tony stark

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Best Part of Me -Chapter 32

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @alievans007

Don’t proceed until you’ve read 31 or this one won’t make sense ;)

With the kids in bed, she sits on the back patio with a pot of tea and her laptop; the area illuminated by just the screen and the strings of white mini lights that line the edge of the overhang and wrap around the railings. It’s ten thirty at night and despite a state of both mental and physical exhaustion, she can’t sleep. Concern playing on her; gnawing at her stomach and sitting heavily on her chest and making her a nervous wreck. It’s many things. The worry that surrounds Tyler’s mental state and his heightened battle with the demons of addiction, the anxiety of their -as not only a couple, but as partners and teammates- delving back into the dangerous and unpredictable world of the job, TJ’s lingering and worsening issues at school. Now there’s an incessant nagging deep within her; a warning that something just isn’t quite right. She can’t quite put her finger on it or explain exactly what she feels, but it’s there. Neither dread of overpowering worry, but a nibbling of suspicion; something telling her that things aren’t what they seem. She doesn’t feel threatened or in danger; it’s nothing that serious. But something IS wrong.

She checks her email; a shared account she’d set up with Tyler when he began putting the word out that he was getting into the game; creating his own operation and looking for only guys interested in mercenary work, but people who could supply -on an ongoing basis- with everything he’d need to run the business. Interest has come fast and furious and hasn’t slowed down; an inbox flooded with still practicing mercs looking to jump ship and join his team, retired guys with the itch to get back into it, old military buddies wanting to try something new, contacts with seemingly endless supplies of weapons and ammo and technology. Everything and anything that a merc business could possibly want and need. And with the aid of a pen and pad of paper, she takes notes, jotting down names and numbers and details; underlying those that need to be contacted first. There’s so much to do and it’s all happening so fast; coming together a lot quicker and easier than either of them had expected it to. It’s what a good, solid reputation and years of shedding blood, sweat, and tears will do; earning you valuable resources and gaining you a long list of people wanting -and willing- to work alongside you. Even former clients that had been loyal to Nik have been in contact; high profile and extremely wealthy, so pleased with his previous work and results that they’re suggesting other high rollers who need work done.

She returns a vast majority of the emails; explaining who she is and what her role in the game was years ago, and what it is now. Then snaps the lid closed on the laptop and leans back in her chair; sighing heavily as she rakes both hands through her hair and then closes her eyes, hands clasped together and resting on her stomach. Relaxed by the sound of the ocean behind her and the breeze rustling the tops of the trees; feeling on the verge of sleep when she hears the faint yet noticeable creaking of the patio’s wooden steps. Giving a small start; hair on the back of her neck standing on end, hands immediately gripping the arm rests of the chair, eyes snapping open as her head turns in the direction of whoever is sneaking up on her.

“Sorry,” Ovi gives a sheepish, apologetic smile. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s okay. I was half asleep. You know how things always sound ten times as loud and seem ten times scarier when you’re drifting off?”

He nods, then nervously wrings his hands together before showing them in the pockets of the plaid sleep pants he sports; anxiously bouncing up and down on his heels. Lips set in a thin line, the glow from the mini lights shimmering in his dark, soulful eyes.

“Want some tea?” she inquires, and his posture and face immediately relax. “Just go and grab yourself a mug. And something to eat if you want. I wasn’t expecting company.”

His smile is brighter now; nerves settling. And he heads into the house and returns minutes later, bringing with an oversized mug, bottle of honey from the fridge, and a package of Oreos.

“Excellent choice,” she praises, as he slips into the chair across from her; pouring himself some tea; adding a dollop of honey before opening the cookies. “You couldn’t sleep either?” she asks, as she helps herself to an Oreo, plucking off the top layers and pressing her tongue flat against the white icing.

“I haven’t been sleeping well for a couple of days,” Ovi admits. “A lot on my mind.”

“I hear that.”

“Have you heard from him?”

Esme nods. “He called before the kids went to bed. Just to check in on things and tell them a bedtime story. Or two. Or three. That was a couple of hours ago. I haven’t heard from him since. Not even a text message. But he did say that the signal can get really bad out there, so…” she shrugs. “...it is what it is, I guess.”

“How did he seem?”

“Fine, I guess. Tired. He’s dealing with some shit. With the PTSD and the anxiety and the depression and all the crap that comes with the. But all things considering, he’s doing alright. Things could be worse, I guess.”

“You’re worried about him.” It’s more a statement than a question.

“I always worry about him. Too much, probably. But it’s kind of my thing. I think he’d be worried if I WASN’T worried. I don’t know…” another sigh; finger scraping icing off the cookie and then popping it into her mouth. “Things are...weird...right now.”

“With the whole getting back into the job thing?”

“Honestly, I expected it. I had told him that if he missed it THAT much and it would be the one thing that could keep him sane, that I was okay with him going back. And this way? Running his own business? There won’t be as much worry and stress like there would be if he was going on a job.”

“But..”

“But, like I said, he’s dealing with some things. And these things are worse than anything else.”

“He told me,”, Ovi says. “About wanting to drink. Even about wanting to do the Oxy.”

Her eyebrows shoot up and she sips her tea. “And people wonder why I have bad nerves and gray hair.”

It’s been a journey; starting on the Sultana Kamal Bridge and leading up to this very moment. While she doesn’t regret a single moment or the decisions she’s made, it’s foolish to pretend that things have been easy; that her sanity and patience haven’t put through the ringer. Thankfully there’s been more good times -amazing times, actually...than bad. But when things do go wrong, they’re horrible and soul stealing.

“Do you think he will?” Ovi asks, and she can see the concern in his eyes and hear it in his voice. “Drink? Go back to taking the pills?”

“I honestly don’t know.” It’s painful to admit, and she feels prick of hot, bitter tears. “A person can only take so much. Even someone like Tyler. He’s so strong and so brave and so resilient, but even he has a broken point. And I guess I’m worried that he’s reached it. Love can’t save someone, Ovi. No matter how much you want it to.”

The tears come now; a few errant droplets that cling to her cheeks and stick to the end of her nose and then become so much more. And she places an elbow on the table and her palm to her forehead, eyes tightly screwed shut. She feels ashamed. Weak. Things could be worse. So much worse. Yet here she is, having an emotional meltdown in front of someone who has had years of their own trauma and bullshit to deal with. And she hears the soft squeak of his chair as he leans forward, then the weight of his hand rests upon her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she sniffles. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Or acted like this. Things aren’t THAT bad. They really aren’t.”

“It’s okay,” Ovi says. “You’ve been strong long enough.”

“I just don’t know what to do to help him; I don’t know what else there is. I’m trying so hard to deal with my own shit while helping him with his and I feel like I’m failing no matter how hard I try or no matter what I do. How do I just sit back and watch it happen? How do I watch him suffer and completely fall apart, knowing there’s nothing I can do to stop it? To love someone that much and feel like you’re losing them and there’s nothing you can do to prevent it from happening?”

“It’s going to be okay,” he assures her. “He’s tough. He’s strong. He won’t let this beat him. You know he won’t.”

“It just sucks, you know? To watch the person you love more than anything in the world hurt and suffer so bad. To see them in such pain and not be able to do anything about it. And I would do anything...ANYTHING...to make things better for him. There isn’t a length I wouldn’t go to fix things. But I’m so frustrated and I’m so tired and I feel so alone in this whole fucking mess.”

“But you’re not. Alone. I’m here. I get it. And I’m sorry. For how stupid I was. About the job. I just thought it would be something Tyler and I could do together. That might make him feel like he’s useful again. I know he’s been struggling with that; feeling like he isn’t useful.”

“But he is. Useful. He’s a husband and a father and we need him. Healthy. And I was hurt that you didn’t understand that; how bad things could get if he got dragged back into it and never came home. He’s always going on and on about how strong and independent I am and how I’d be fine without him. But I wouldn’t. Be fine. I’d be so far from fine. I don’t think I’d ever get over it; if something happened to him. I don’t think I’d mentally survive it. I’ve spent seven years loving him with everything I am and everything I have and I’m not ready to lose him. I’ll never be ready. And if that makes me weak and pathetic…”

“It doesn’t. It just means you love him and you love your life and you want him to be okay.”

“I just don’t want him to be okay. I need him to be okay. We have kids. Five of them. They need their dad. And when you brought up the job and wanting his help, it scared the shit out of me. Because I know what the job is about and it almost broke us before and I didn’t want to go through that again. I was just scared. And I snapped and I took it out on you and I’m sorry. I never should have said the things I did.”

“You had every right to say them. Everything you said was the truth. He HAS been through a lot. And he’s still going through a lot. But I think this will be good for him. The business.”

“I WANT to disagree, but I think you’re right. I know he’s been struggling with feeling he doesn’t really have a purpose. Like he has nothing to contribute to society. I think this will give him that confidence back. And keep him busy. But I also need it to keep him alive.”

“There’s a better chance of that happening if he’s behind the scenes, right? He’d only have to go out on a job if things went really bad.”

“This is Tyler we’re talking about,” Esme reminds him. “He’ll find a reason -and a way- get out there.”

Ovi grins. “Very true.”

“Just promise me you’ll keep an eye on him. That you won’t let him do anything stupid or reckless. Because he’s not getting any younger and I plan on growing old and gray and miserable with him, and he kind of needs to be around for that.”

Ovi gives a small chuckle, and she issues a heavy sigh and leans back in her chair; using the backs of her hands to clear the tears from her cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” she says.”I didn’t mean to lose it like that.”

“That’s okay. You don’t have to be embarrassed around me. You think you would have gotten over that the second I walked in the bathroom while you were getting out of the shower at Gaspar’s.”

“Oh...my...God…” she laughs. “I totally forgot about that. I’m sorry I freaked out on you as bad as I did.”

“I’m sorry I stared for as long as I did. It was my first time...other than things on the internet...seeing someone...a girl...like that. I was just...shocked...I guess…”

“I’m just glad I didn’t traumatize you. That would have been years of very expensive therapy. This is all so strange…” she runs her fingers through her hair, then clasps her hands together at the back of her neck. “...not the you walking in on me naked thing. That was bad enough. The talking with you about this kind of stuff. Serious things. ADULT things. I still remember fourteen year old Ovi. The one I met at the factory. When I tried to keep your mind off things by talking to you about school and hobbies and girls.”

He tries not to think of Dhaka. For years he’d been able to vividly recall the sounds of gunfire and explosions, the smell of gunpowder and lead and the sewer they’d taken refuge in. Every night he would dream of that moment on the bridge; crouching beside Tyler’s side and holding his hand; tears streaming down his face as Tyler told him to run, Ovi in turn begging him to please get up. It’s been almost seven years and it still haunts him; how weak Tyler had been, how vulnerable. The dazed look in his eyes as his life slipped away; strength fading, body and brain beginning to shut down, all hope out getting out Dhaka alive diminishing.

Yet he’d fought back, and for a moment it had seemed as if everything was going to be okay. He’d need urgent medical care and weeks recuperating in the hospital, but at least he was going to survive. And then Farhad had shot him from behind and everything changed. Not just in that moment, but in the days, weeks, months and years that lay ahead.

There hadn’t been many quiet and relaxed moments, but Ovi does remember that conversation in the factory; when she’d actually cared enough to not only see how he was holding up, but to try and keep him calm and lessen the enormity of the situation. When she’d first arrived he’d been surprised when she’d walked through the door; covered in dirt and mud and dried blood. Tyler had told him that someone was meeting up with them; the lone team member that had managed to survive Saju’s onslaught on the boat and in the woods. It would take them a while to get there; they had to head into town -from the extraction point- on foot, waiting until the commotion had settled down and the sun began to set. But he hadn’t expected HER. Barely five feet and a hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet, bringing bottles of water and food she’d managed to steal from shops and curbside vendors along the way.

“This is Esme,” Tyler had said, and Ovi had seen the small smile that had tugged at the corner of the mercenary’s lips and the fondness that had briefly sparkled in his eyes. He hadn’t known the exact story or the connection between them, but there’d been something there. And whatever it was, it had been enough to momentarily soften the edge, and the face, of such a big, strong man. “She’s here to help.”

“Can you believe it’s been that long?” Ovi asks now. “Since Dhaka? Almost seven years.”

“Sometimes it feels like seventy,” she says. “Other times it feels like seven days.”

“A lot has happened since then. It’s surreal when you sit back and think about it. How many things have happened between then and now. How far we’ve all come.”

“If anyone had told me seven years ago that I’d be married again and have five kids, I would have told them they were insane,” she laughs. “If they said my fake five day husband would become my REAL husband, I would have laughed at them. After all the bullshit and heartache with Mark, I was never...ever...getting married again. I was sure of it. There was no man on the planet that could possibly change my mind. Boy, was I wrong. I guess the universe took that as a challenge.”

“Would you do it again? If you knew then what you know now; knowing what you’d go through. Would you still do it? Hook up with him in Dhaka? Get married? Start a family? All of that?”

“In a heartbeat,” she answers with no hesitation. “Things started out weird and unconventional and it was entirely the wrong place at entirely the wrong time. But considering everything that’s happened since? I’d make the exact same decisions all over again. Things happen for a reason. Or at least I like to think they do. Everything we went through in Dhaka put us on the path we’re on now.”

Ovi nods as he considers her words, slowly sipping his tea.

“Change one thing, you change everything. You haven’t heard that before? About the butterfly effect? When Tyler gets back, ask him about him. He’s a huge believer in it. It’s the chaos theory. He’s not just a pretty face, you know; he’s got some pretty interesting sides to him. If you take the chance and the time to discover them AND he lets you. That’s the biggest challenge. Getting him to let down his guard and show you those sides. But just don’t ask him about The Butterfly Effect movie. Never mention Ashton Kutcher in his presence. It’ll set him off; no one pisses him off quite like Kutcher does.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad it didn’t break you guys. The job. That you just learned to live with it.”

“I tolerate it. At best. And there’s been times I haven’t done that very well. You’ve lived under the same roof as us. You used to hear the fights. How bad they would get. They were always about the job. Always.”

“And now?” he asks. “You think it will be different this time?”

She sighs and swallows the remains of her tea. “God, I hope so.”

****

It’s shortly after midnight when his phone rings; springing to life as it sits on the coffee table just inches from where he rests on Koen’s couch. He’d been drifting off; lulled to sleep by the pattering of rain on the tin roof and the soft snoring from from the other side of the shack.

His initial reaction is worry. No one calls at that time of the night unless there’s an emergency or they have bad news to drop on you. Immediately his mind focuses on all the mystery and suspicion surrounding Salena’s true identity and the Jeep with the stolen plates and its sketchy driver. And his heart is hammering wildly in his chest as he reaches for his phone; all the worst case scenarios run through his head. That someone has grabbed his kids.Or his wife. That they’re missing or injured or even worse, dead. He’d only talk to them four hours ago. Listening to them ramble on about what they’d learned at that school that day and all the fun they’d had in the water with Uncle Kyle and Ovi; telling them bedtime stories and giving them repeated reassurances that he’d there to pick them up after school tomorrow. And he’d called Esme two hours later; when he could finally get service again and all of her text messages began rolling in.

Everything had been fine. She’d sounded exhausted but had assured him that nothing seemed out of the ordinary; he’d told her that him ‘coming out of the woodwork’ in regards to the job would likely ruffle some feathers and get the attention of people who’d been looking for him for years and most likely thought he was dead. She’d told him that Ovi had stopped by and that they’d done the proverbial ‘kiss and make up’ and that they’d finally cleared the air between them. And she’d sounded relieved when he’d seemed sober and coherent; that he hadn’t succumbed to the demons and the cravings. Not yet, anyway. Even with Koen polishing off an entire bottle of whisky on his own and pounding back a dozen shots of tequila.

Tyler remembers those times, but doesn’t miss them; living in a constant haze, the days and nights all blending together in one huge incoherent mess, passing out in the midst of drunken and doped up stupor and not caring if he even woke up from it. He’d reverted back to that once; during their six month separation and he’d felt as if he’d lost everything that mattered in his life. Worried that she’d take the kids and simply disappear and he’d never see them again. That any day someone would show up on his doorstep and serve him with divorce papers. Wondering if she’d already move on and there was already someone else in her bed...THEIR bed. It was that thought that would send him into a blind, drunk rage. Punching walls and destroying anything and everything he could get hands on; not able to handle the thought of anyone else being with her. Touching her. Kissing her. Fucking her. If he’d been sober he’d have realized how irrational that thinking was. She wasn’t that type. Far from it. He was one of only three men she’d ever been with and it just wasn’t in her nature to fuck around on him, whether they were separated or not.

He’d been a mess those entire six months; only getting sober long enough to take whatever job Nik offered. Even then he’d still taken the Oxy; needing something to take the edge off. And then some. And he’d sent Esme text messages and voicemails; starting out completely lucid and then slowly becoming nothing but drunken profanity and threats and incoherent apologies. He’d even shown up at the house several times, stooping low enough to beg her to take him back. She’d let him inside. Sometimes she’d caved in and they’d fuck; sex being the one and only time they wouldn’t fight and things would seem normal again. At least temporarily. But she’d always make him sleep on the couch; forcing him to be out the door before the kids got up. It was hard enough on them; they didn’t need to be confused on top of everything else. Soon he began missing school events and soccer games and even planned visitations; too drunk and too messed on meds and the combination of the two to even stumble out of bed and make an effort.

That should have been the end of it. The final nail in the coffin. Bit she’d still taken him back; calling him in the middle of the night, asking him to come home. Saying that she missed him...the OLD him...and didn’t want to let that Tyler go; knowing he was still in there, determined to get him back. And they’d worked on things. Together. They went to therapy -together and separate- and busted their asses to put their marriage back together and make it stronger. It had been a hell of a long road; often painful and difficult. But more than worth it in the end.

Tyler reaches for his phone, snagging it off the coffee table and not bothering to check the caller id before answering. And he doesn’t even get a single word in greeting out before the voice on the other end snarls at him.

“What the hell have you done?”

Nik.

Fuck.

She’s the last person he wants to deal with. Word travel fasts, and he knew it would reach her eventually. But he hadn't expected it to happen THIS soon.

“Nik.” He simply greets.

“Tyler.”

“I’d say it’s good to hear from you, but…”

“You could find an ounce of decency in you to contact me first? To tell me what you were going to do? I had to find tout like this? Through the grapevine? You hate me that much?”

He groans as he sits up; wincing as he stretches his legs out and places his feet on the coffee table. “I don’t hate you,” he says. “I should. Considering how many times you tried to fuck my marriage up.

“You didn’t need any help with that. You found your own ways to screw things up. And if you had been thinking with your head and not your dick and found someone decent and worthwhile…”

“That’s my wife you’re talking about, Nik. You don’t talk about her like that. Ever. So unless you want me telling you to fuck off and hanging up on you…”

“You of people,” she continues. “You’re the last one I thought would do this to me. Is this some kind of revenge, Tyler? The one and only way you know how to get back at me? The only thing you know will hurt? You want revenge THAT bad?”

“This isn’t revenge.”

“You’re still so bitter and so angry about Dhaka that you’d stoop low this?”

“This has nothing to do with Dhaka,” he argues. “Or revenge. I’m moved on from all of that. From you and your bullshit. You left us on the bridge to die. You tried fucking up my marriage. You manipulated the hell out of me to get me back into the hob. And I won’t even get into the goddamn mess you dragged me into with McMann.”

“You went into that willingly. Because of the threat to your family. But then you snapped and you went way overboard and…”

“What do you want, Nik?”

“I want to know why you would do this to me. Get back into things. Start your own operation.:

“It has nothing to do with you. I wanted back in. In a way that I didn’t have to constantly abandon my family. In a way I could have control over things. So fuck you and your ego. The whole world doesn’t revolve around you, Nik. Regardless of what you think.”

“This has everything to do with me when it endangers my career and my livelihood.”

“Give me a break,” Tyler scoffs. “There’s enough bullshit going on in the world for both of us. What about all the other merc businesses out there? You have a problem with them too?”

“I have a problem with you betraying me. Going behind my back and intentionally trying to ruin me. Remember when you agreed to work for me? Run things in North America? That was our deal and you bailed on it. Once you had your mental breakdown in New Zealand and you decided you wanted out. And I let you walk away.”

He laughs. “You let me? You didn’t have a fucking choice. You don’t own me, Nik. You don’t control me. You never did. I had my reasons for leaving. Legit reasons. Just because you couldn’t understand them or accept them…”

“Those reasons still exist, Tyler. You still have a wife. And kids. Or at least you did the last time I heard.”

“My wife and my kids will always be here. So don’t get your hopes up.”

She snorts. “You really think THAT highly of yourself?”

“You’re the one that spent nearly seven years trying to break up my marriage and hop on my dick,” he reminds her. “And go figure; Kyle smartens up and you start calling me again. Should have seen that coming.”

“Get over yourself, Tyler. You’re good. But you’re not THAT good.”

“You weren’t saying that at the time. ALL the times. I bet you still think about it, don’t you. About me. I bet on those really lonesome nights…”

“You’re a real dick, you know that? How could you do this to me? Betray me like this? Get into the game and jeopardize everything I’ve worked for.”

“Like I said, this has nothing to do with you.”

“This has everything to do with me! I have client bailing and mercs jumping ship because they’d rather deal with you.”

“Guess I shouldn’t have been so good at my job, huh?”

“You knew this would happen. You know what kind of reputation you have. And you capitalized on it. Just so you could fuck me.”

“I’ve fucked you before, Nik. And I didn’t like it much.. But beggars can’t be choosers, so…”

“You of all people,” she ignores the cheap shot. “I was the one who took you on. Gave you a chance. Gave you something to do with your shitty life. If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have gotten a second chance. There’d be no Esme and there’d be no kids and you’d still be a miserable, pathetic drunk and drug addict. And this is how you repay me? Then is what I get in return for everything I’ve done for you?”

“You left me on that bridge to die. You left Esme there. Knowing what would happen if Asif got a hold of her. All because you were pissed that we’d been fucking for the last five days and you were pissed if wasn’t you.”

“It was wrong,” Nik snarls. “What you did. What you BOTH did. I didn’t send you there for that. If you wanted to fuck her, you should have waited and fucked her on your own time. Not mine.”

“And you showing up all those times at my hotel room when I was on job was different in what way?” Tyler challenges. “You weren’t upset that Esme and I hooked up on the job. You were upset it wasn’t you. And it pissed you off even more when she stuck around after Dhaka; once you realized she wasn’t going anywhere.”

“It was a mistake. You and her. Right from the start. Putting the two of you together like that. I should have known that nothing good would come of it.”

“That’s the thing, Nik. A lot of good DID come out of it. And that’s what you hate. That things went a lot farther than you thought they would. Accept it; you lost and you couldn’t handle it. And no matter how hard you try, I’m still going to have a wife and kids.”

“We’ll see about that, won’t we.”

Tyler’s eyes narrow. “What the fuck is THAT supposed to mean?”

“I can play dirty too,” she informs him.

“Is that a threat? You’d actually do something to them? To my family? What kind of messed up shit is that? You go anywhere near them and I will end you, Nik.”

“I’d never hurt them. The fact you’d even think that…”

“Stay away from them,” he warns. “Stay away from my wife and my kids. If I even find out you tried calling her, I will show up on your doorstep and fuck your shit right up. No one will be able to protect you. No one. So I’d think twice about whatever you’re planning.”

“Now who’s threatening?”

“I’m serious, Nik. Don’t mess with my family. Bigger and better than you have tried. And it didn’t end well for them.”

“You won’t get away with this, Tyler. Screwing me like this. Stealing my clients and my mercs and my contacts.”

“It’s not a competition. There’s tons of work for both of us. Get a grip.”

“You get a grip. This is your reality now. You betrayed me. You. Of all people. The one person I thought I would always trust no matter what. And you’ll pay for that, Tyler. One way or another.”

“Don’t call me again, Nik. This is over.”

“This is far from over. This is…”

Tyler doesn’t wait for her to finish; abruptly ending the call and then tossing his phone onto the table. Across the room Koen stirs; snorting and coughing in his sleep and then rolling over onto his stomach, pillow over his head.

He contemplates calling home; giving her a heads up, letting her know that Nik is on the warpath and has a score to settle. But it’s late; he’ll only wake her up and quite possibly the kids, and he highly doubts Nik will start her shit this late at night.

His shoulder hurts; every nerve from the back of his neck to the tips of his fingers feel as if they are on fire. And he reaches for the bottle of meds that sit alongside his phone. Nothing even close to Oxy; Tylenol threes, extra strength with codeine. They barely take the edge off most days; having to resort to taking way more than deemed safe by the professionals.

The recommended dose is two at a time, every eight hours.

He shakes seven into the palm of his hand. Swallowing them dry.

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fiction #tyler rake fan fic #extraction #best part of me #chris hemsworth character

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mst3kproject · 4 years

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Terror in the Midnight Sun

Let’s see… aliens? Check. Sasquatch? Check. Weird Scandinavian production trying to look like Hollywood? Check! Bring on Terror in the Midnight Sun.

A glowing orb comes in for a landing in the arctic. Word of this spreads quickly, and soon an expedition is dispatched to retrieve the unusual object. One of the scientists on the trip is a Dr. Wilson, who is excited not just by the meteor but by the opportunity to visit his niece Diana, who is in the area training to be an Olympic figure skater. Upon arrival, the scientists learn that some monster is going around killing people and reindeer, leaving gigantic footprints, and carrying off pretty girls. When they follow its trail, they learn that what landed on the glacier is no meteor – it’s a spaceship, and the aliens’ pet Yeti has kidnapped Diana!

Yeah, that’s the movie all right.

Like a number of MST3K features, including The Touch of Satan and Blood Waters of Dr. Z, Terror in the Midnight Sun has several titles. In its homeland of Sweden it is called Rymdinvasion i Lappland (Space Invasion in Lappland), while in English-speaking parts it is frequently Invasion of the Animal People. Of these titles, not one of them is accurate. There is only one ‘animal person’ in the movie, and the single ship and crew really aren’t enough to constitute an ‘invasion’. As for Terror in the Midnight Sun, that one may sound good, but there’s no midnight sun in the movie. Rather, characters keep talking about ‘it’ll be dark soon’ and ‘we won’t make it by nightfall’. Points for poetics, Title Guy, but none for relevance.

As well as alternative titles, there’s a whole alternative version of this movie available, produced by Jerry Warren of Wild Wild World of Batwoman fame. It reportedly begins with John Carradine telling us why science is good, followed by a prologue in which Diana is abducted and then released by the aliens prior to the events of the original film. I did not watch that version. The one I did see was plenty weird enough.

Another random thing we have in common with multiple MST3K movies is the preponderance of padding. Lost Continent was mostly Rock Climbing and Racket Girls contained far too much wrestling. For Terror in the Midnight Sun, it’s skiing. Diana and hunky geologist Eric Engstrom spend a day on the slopes to show us that they’re falling in love. Later, the couple attempt to ski back to civilization to get help, after the yeti destroys the party’s small airplane. The nomadic reindeer-herders who live in the area ski everywhere, and we have to watch even when they’re not going anyplace plot-relevant. And I sure never thought I’d see a movie with a torches-and-pitchforks mob chasing a monster on skis yet here we are.

Besides the skiing, Terror in the Midnight Sun also lingers on things like planes flying, couples dancing, and yetis blundering about. There’s a gratuitous song sung by a gratuitous lounge singer. People wander around in a blizzard in ways unpleasantly reminiscent of Hercules wandering around in a sandstorm. All of these last just slightly longer than they should, and I imagine Joel and the ‘bots having a very hard time with them.

For an old, cheap, black-and-white movie, the photography is surprisingly good. We can always tell what’s going on and tell the characters apart, although don’t ask me to remember anyone’s name besides Dr. Wilson, Diane, and Eric. Cinematography is just good enough to make you think that filming an arctic landscape in monochrome has untapped artistic potential – but not good enough to realize that. Instead, I found myself noticing that the characters’ surroundings are not nearly as bleak as the miniature shots and the dialogue are probably trying to suggest. There seem to be plenty of trees and rocks and cabins around, while we’re evidently supposed to believe they’re miles out on the tundra.

Again like many MST3K subjects, Terror in the Midnight Sun has a pretty girl in it for no better reason than that movies are supposed to have pretty girls. Diana is otherwise entirely useless. She invites herself along on her uncle’s expedition for no reason at all besides possibly that she’s bored, and she brings nothing to the party whatsoever. The movie bothers to establish her as a skilled skater and skier and then never makes use of either talent – when she and Eric try to ski to the nearest settlement for help, she runs into the only tree for miles around and sprains her knee, so he has to leave her behind in a rescue cabin to be kidnapped by the Yeti.

I think this injury is what’s supposed to prevent Diana from escaping the Yeti… only it doesn’t keep her from running around for hours in the snow.

She’s also here to fall in love with Eric, because the reason movies need pretty girls, besides the audience’s opportunity to ogle, is so that the heroic male lead can get to touch some titties as his reward for saving the day. The whole arc with the two of them is really weird. They have a bit of a meet cute when Diana calls out “hello, darling!” to her uncle (who does that?) and Eric thinks she’s talking to him. Dr. Wilson warns Diana that Eric is known as a heartbreaker who can’t stick to one woman, but this doesn’t seem to discourage her. The lovebirds then have their skiing day, when Eric knocks Diana over and she retaliates by stealing his skis and leaving him to walk all the way back to the lodge! He arrives tired, wet, and angry, and she asks him what took him so long… but twenty minutes later he still wants to dance with her. What the hell do these two see in each other?

When she sees the Yeti, Diana screams and faints. It carries her off back to the crater where its extraterrestrial masters – pale coneheads in long robes – are waiting. She wakes up and sees them, and screams and faints again. Her entire purpose in the plot is to give the movie an excuse to show us the aliens, and the whole ‘alien’ thing itself is ultimately quite useless. In fact, the movie would probably have made more sense if the Yeti had been an Earthly monster. At the climax, she remains an inanimate object in the Yeti’s arms.

By now we’re pretty convinced the creature isn’t going to hurt her on purpose, but the movie never says what it plans to do with her instead. In the Creature from the Black Lagoon movies, the monster’s interest in the women was overtly sexual. In Giant of the Twentieth Century, the Yeti thought the two human children were young of its own species in need of protection. Here? I dunno. Diana’s in the movie because movies are supposed to have pretty girls, and the Yeti menaces her because that’s what happens to said pretty girls in movies. Nobody’s meant to care about the reason. The writers sure didn’t.

The Yeti itself is doubtless what you’ve been waiting to hear about. It’s the real star of this movie. While the aliens and their ship don’t look too bad, either, the Yeti suit is clearly what the film-makers are most proud of, and it gets plenty of screen time. It’s a pretty fun Yeti as crappy movie creatures go, around twenty feet tall (except when it’s carrying Diana, when it mysteriously shrinks to more like seven feet) and shaggy, with big tusks sticking up from its lower lip. The script doesn’t give the guy in the suit much to work with, but he manages to convey that this is a creature capable of both violence and gentleness, even as its actual motivations remain a mystery.

The motivations of the aliens are equally murky. The climax of the movie happens when the angry mob on skis chases the Yeti to the edge of a cliff, where they throw torches at it until its fur catches fire. It is then kind enough to put Diana down, before toppling off the precipice to its death. And then, with their Yeti dead, the aliens just fucking leave! Only minutes later, their glowing ship rises out of the snow where we’ve all been assuming it’s stuck, and flies away across the sky. The movie treats this as a victory, never entertaining the idea that they’ve, say, gone to get reinforcements. Dr. Wilson watches them go and muses, “I wonder if they found out what they wanted to know.”

Personally, I don’t think the aliens were here for any sort scientific or military purpose. Instead, imagine you’re on a cross-country road trip with your buddies, and somebody brought their dog. That’s fun, but it does mean that every so often you’re gonna have to stop somewhere to let the dog stretch its legs and pee on a few things. With me so far? Okay, imagine that on one of these stops, the dog digs up an anthill, and the ants retaliate by setting it on fire and pushing it off a cliff. You’d leave pretty damn quick too, wouldn’t you? I don’t think we have to worry about these particular aliens ever coming back.

#mst3k #reviews #terror in the midnight sun #episodes that never were #all these movies have bigfoot in them #poor john carradine #50s

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the-lady-bryan · 4 years

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harry potter/farscape crossover idea

okay so firstly, i’m NEVER going to develop this further. i’ve just got no muse. but here we are, with what little bit i did throw into notepad at one point.

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

Harry had stopped believing in coincidence centuries ago.

It didn't help that he was yanked for a while back and forth through realities - though admittedly that was partly his own fault because he didn't quite anticipate the level of power his magic had risen to after the Battle of Hogwarts and the defeat of Voldemort. When he wished to be anywhere else than dealing with the press and the fans and the fame and oh Merlin damn it Ginny we're not even dating and you and your mother are picking out goddamned wedding china!

But he digresses.

His reality hopping had finally ceased and his magic had FINALLY settled down. It looked like this reality would be his permanent one provided he didn't fuck it all up again. Which he tried - he really tried because holy fucking hell some of this shit he had to deal with was absolutely insane! He'd seen Voldemort the Snake-Face but that did NOT prepare him for meeting the literal psychic bipedal lizards called the Scarans. And he'd rather not meet them again if he could help it.

To survive in this crazy universe he'd had to adapt and unfortunately that meant kill or be killed.

Harry had come to terms with the blood on his hands a long time ago.

Unfortunately it was right before he was picked up by the Peacekeepers - the military arm of a race called the Sebbacians. And that's how he ended up in prison for assassinating some asshole dictator in the middle of nowhere who, unfortunately had Peacekeeper connections roughly eight cycles - years - after the fact. He'd settled down on some other backwater planet that reminded him a lot of Earth. Well, one of the Earths he'd been to at any rate. So what if the people were slightly orange and melted shit when they screamed. He just got better at making up scream-proofing charms on the fly is all. They were called Interons or something of the sort. Didn't matter much to Harry. He'd found a place to settle down and live a quiet life for the first time in three hundred years.

And now he was being transferred from his comfortable cell on some planet to a prison ship. Oh joy of joys.

Another eighty years later....

Harry sat with his muzzle on like a good little prisoner when they came into his cell for the routine torture and supposed interrogations. How did he still look like a child after eighty years? How old was he really? Where did he come from? Who else has he murdered? Who all hired him? The usual really.

They left him alone mostly unless they transferred other prisoners off the ship and he was all that was left.

They'd killed him a few times, but they didn't realize it. He'd healed and awoken too quickly for them to notice.... But someone did. He was sure of it. He just couldn't quite figure out who...

At least until he'd been on the ship for another fifty years. That's when he felt her for the first time poking at the edges of his awareness. She called herself Moya. She was the ship. The Leviathan is what the Peacekeeper guards called her.

Harry looked up from his liquid meal, the straw still stuck in the hole of his muzzle that allowed him to drink and "eat" when he heard the guards outside his door. Curious, he silently asked Moya what was happening as a blue woman was taken past his cell. A new prisoner. A Delvian, Moya had said. Harry was just grateful the new prisoner wasn't another goddamn Hynerian. Horrible little bastards reminded him of horrifying mix of Mundungus Fletcher and Draco Malfoy. Not something he liked to imagine. But at least she should be much more pleasant company than Rygel.

He found he liked the Delvian. Her chanting was very soothing. Moya and her Pilot seemed to like it very much as well.

Harry was woken by the roars of a tentacle faced beast of a man? He thought it was a man at least... when they brought the Luxan on board. With the muzzle on though, he could hardly say anything to anyone other than Moya and Pilot. And that was only because whatever it was they did, it was similar enough to legillimency that he basically said fuck it, why not. Otherwise, he'd have gone crazy long before then.

And then... one day, he woke to sirens and the ship jarring about and oh dear heavens that's laser fire isn't it?

"Don't just sit there! Come on!" Oh it was that horrible muppet thing again. Harry just stared at him in annoyance before the blue woman ran past and it dawned on him... Oh, it's a prison break.

It didn't take long for Harry to subdue a couple of guards. With some of Moya's lovely little robots leading him around he was able to avoid most confrontations and make his way to a safe storage chamber and hunker down until the fighting was over. He quite liked the chamber, and made his opinion known to Moya and her Pilot.

Eventually when things have settled down and they've starburst away Harry is led by some DRDs to where the other escaped prisoners are. They were't really pleased to see a young man wearing a muzzle and holding a pulse rifle judging by the multiple weapons pointed at him.

"who the hell are you?!" "He was here before anyone else." "ship's manifest doesn't even have him listed." "That muzzle can't be comfortable. Here, allow me..." "Are you mad! You take that off him and he'll kill us all!"

The muzzle is taken off and the first thing Harry says for a couple of centuries is, "You, the blue one. Oh I have so much enjoyed your chanting. It helped soothe Moya and her pilot for a time. I don't... I don't quite know what had them so agitated for a while but it certainly did help them. And myself as well. I look forward to hearing more of that lovely chanting. Now can I get a decent cuppa tea? Perhaps a food packet? I'll take anything solid. I've been living on liquid nutrients for around a hundred and fifty years and I can tell you it's not a pleasant way to eat."

"You're speaking English. That's English! My translator microbes things not translating you! That is the god damn Queen's English!"

"Of course I'm speaking bloody English! I'm from bloody England you fucking yank!"

"you said fuck! Not.... You have no idea how good it is to see another human!"

"I can assume you're from Earth, Mr..."

"Crichton. John Crichton. Astronaut."

"Harry Potter. Wiz-"

"The Master of Death!" - The Hynerian.

"Well I was going to say Wizard but I suppose that works just as well."

"Peacekeeper legends claim you can kill a man with just two words. Is that true?"

"Yes. With the proper motivation at least. But I.... I turned from my calling a long time ago. I'm not exactly a man of peace or pacifism, but I just wanted to settle down and have a quiet life after all my travels and adventures."

"Wait a minute..... A wizard. Named Harry Potter. You've got to be kidding me! Next you'll be telling me you ride around chasing a little flying ball on a broomstick."

"you know about Quidditch? Tell me, Mr. Crichton, are there any wizards or witches on Earth still? What year even is this by your calendar?"

"Dear god he honestly thinks he's a wizard..."

"what did I say?"

Then a few days later, after Harry's saved Crichton's life, the man finds him sitting and staring out a porthole, floating a cup in front of him with just a wiggle of his fingers with a fond smile on his face. "There's these... books. Kids books, back on Earth. My friend’s kid was obsessed with 'em. Got on the pre-order list at the bookstore near the base so he could get the third book the day it comes out for her birthday." "Why are you telling me this, Mr. Crichton?" "The first book is called Harry Potter and the Sorceror's Stone. The second one that came out last year was called Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets." And at this, Harry closes his eyes and sighs. "And what was the third book to be called? Did you know?" "Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. Did you really kill a giant fucking snake with just a hat, a bird, and a sword?" "If I told you yes?" "What kind of world do you come from where twelve year olds are expected to know how to fight a giant fucking snake?" "It was over sixty feet long. Built like a brick shithouse. And for some reason facing off against that with a magic bird, magic hat, and a magic sword was... according to my senile headmaster, a good way to build character."

This starts a sort of ritual between the two not-the-same-earth-earthlings. Crichton knows all about the first two books because his friend's kid is fucking obsessed with them and so Harry gives him a first person "this is how shit went down" and "this is honestly what i was thinking at the time" and "yes, with my bare hands, i murdered a man at eleven and nobody thought to send me to a fucking therapist. It was all "here's some bloody candy, Harry. Don't ask questions. Also here's house points in return for killing a man at the tender age of 11." That should have been our first clue that Albus too many fucking names Dumbledore was crazier than goddamn Voldemort ever thought of being."

And when Crichton is captured and tortured with the aurora chair, Harry's there for him in equal measure as Zhaan. And he never asks him about it, but he's just like "Bro. I got your back. You ever need to scream at someone about it, you come to me. We can compare scary pale faced black wearing nightmare men any time." And when Harry finds out that his new best bro has a clone of Scorpius in his head, he starts teaching him occlumency techniques because he's like "even without magic, this shit is damn helpful. Oh, and if you ever find yourself kind-of possessed by the bastard - hey, don't look at me like that John I don't make the rules. This shit just happens when you've got someone else living in your head. Trust me. Remember what I told you about that fucking scar of mine? Right. So listen. You ever get possessed, you want me to, uh, off you? I mean, I don't want to. But I will if I have to. Sometimes if you die for a bit, it helps reset shit." "I'm not immortal harry! I can't just reset my brain like some fucking wizard!" "There! That anger! Hang onto that. Trust me. It'll help if you ever get possessed."

And of fucking course when he's possessed by Scorpius Harry's like "I know that's you, you fucking asshole. Let go of my best bro or I will fucking gut you like a fish." "no you won't. You kill me, your kill John." "that's right and i already had this conversation with him. I'm sure you were there for it, too. You've got 24 arns or the real you is going to get a rather nasty visitor after I forcibly rip that chip out of Johnny's head and fry your ass so nobody gets to have the wormhole tech in there. You understand me, lizard breath?"

#harry potter #farscape #crossover idea #no i won't be going further with this

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thesalemsaga · 4 years

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𝟭 — 𝗰𝗼𝗹𝗱 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗿

— 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙢 𝙨𝙖𝙜𝙖.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 : 6.8k words

𝙨 : salem, the mistress of evil, has been made aware of a resistance group being made within the walls of the empire academy, valhalla. meanwhile, young seren has a bit of an epiphany.

the most unfortunate thing about the mistress’s palace, is that nobody will ever hear you scream.

in the black mountain, the darkness hardly distinguishes day from night. and they say that after losing a track of time, of days, going on without gazing at a clock or a calendar or even getting a peek at the stars, can drive a person to mere insanity. that was what many claimed happened to the witch when she was confined into this palace and was left to her own accord.

although light never shone once through those tainted, ebony windows, life still continued within the monolith. although not the healthy life that one might expect, not the life with clear morals or allowing a faith to carry you through your good doings, not even that flicker of passion towards pass-times and careers that keep you up and moving, nothing of the sort was ever seen in these walls. rather, it seemed like everything about humanity had abandoned the creatures from within.

the seemingly natural and human way of living had been lost within their countless decades here. time was not even a concept, they weren’t sure what use it was to count the hours and days and years you spend there, you’d just make it worse for yourself within the hope that tomorrow you will escape. and if not tomorrow, then in a week. and if not in a week, then in a month, two months, three. upon realizing that time might never come, you peer at those tallies drawn on the dark cobble walls and sneer and scream into an empty vacuum of space where nobody will hear you and save you.

it’s no use getting out either, not without the witch’s permission.

but even if you go out and are asked to return, you must pray to whatever deity remains on this cracked crater of a planet, in hopes that you return with good news. if not good news, decent news. but never bad news. bad news like, the fact that soldiers from the empire front seemed to have located the traces of one of salem’s henchmen.

yeah, good luck getting out of something like that.

inside one of the many halls of the dead palace, a sudden sound erupted. the scout wheezed and coughed as his head was lifted from the pool of water. tangled through raven locks and pulling and yanking, the gloved hands of the witch minded him like a puppet. they leaned over what could have been a pool, but the water was far from pristine or blue, it was a sea-weed green and at certain times, you might just spot a fin breaking through the surface before submerging once more.

this had been going on for nearly five minutes, but it felt like hours. having your head being forced down this certain pool would attract something ugly that lies in the deep end, the mere scent of your blood will put you in danger. but one could hardly care for the life of a mere scout when the mistress of evil has some minor, and by that, major problems on her hands.

“ m-my lady, please, show mercy! ”.

when she forced his head back down, salem’s eyes appeared fit to kill. two vermilion spots lacking any source of previous humanity, but even with the eyes, you wouldn’t take her for having been once a beautiful woman. the horns on her head were curled with ends as sharp as a double edged sword. her complexion was as lifeless as ash clouds summoned by an erupting volcano. salem hardly looked like a witch, she seemed fit to be a demon, a horned one, at that. and perhaps a part of her had some relation to the beings dwelling in the fiery pits below, especially once glancing at the limits of her ire.

minutes prior to this, the same scout she had sent out with about a dozen goblins had returned with news she had not been expecting. news regarding the empire, the people who have tried to take her down for the past two decades. there had been no success although salem was hardly an idiot, she was not one to underestimate the passion of vengeful humans, she was a vengeful human herself. it wouldn’t be long before they charged in with torches and pitch-forks to burn the witch.

resistance groups were growing within the walls, according to the chatter of some military men wandering between the boarder of what was the ukraine. the scout, a good fighter as well as an idiot, could have escaped without alerting the men of his presence and that of the dozen goblins he had brought with him, but he did not. the mere rustle in the bushes alerted the soldiers of a darker presence listening into their banter, and although killing was not on salem’s demand, it had to be done.

what could have been tyrants avoiding giving their status and identity away instead became an altercation that left one soldier cubed to pieces whilst the other fled, and to add salt to the wound, a stupid goblin who went after him was seen by the patrol ship they had parked in the area. checkmate for the empire soldiers.

to make a long story short, salem was fucked.

salem’s berserk force yanked the man’s head out from the mermaid pit and just a small flicker of pleasure manifested in those dead eyes. if there was one thing that she did love doing ( and she doesn’t love many things ) it was ensuing a well-taught lesson on consequences. and she was a rather strict teacher when it came to that.

“ listen to me, you filthy pig ”, she spat, sneering as the man found to catch his breath. her grip on his hair only tightened. “ you had clear instructions. you had them fucking written down, i even took some remorse since you have a god-awful memory and you want to tell me to have mercy, when you just fucking gave a major clue away to those empire fuckers?! ”.

the man continued to cough and wheeze as salem’s spat pure venom, “ what is it with you men, huh? can’t take orders from a woman? is your superiority alarm blaring so hard that you just won’t adhere to the fucking orders because a woman gave them to you? answer me, you pig! ”. he couldn’t. “ d-do you know how fucked i am? well not in the best way, i’ll tell you that. all of my efforts to make my location have gone to shit because you couldn’t keep your lousy ass out of trouble for five minutes. five years! five years stuck in this cold shithole and you gave it all away, you filthy animal. oh, i’m not going to show any mercy at all. ”

although the currents were disturbed by the abuse brought upon the scout, the waves did not fail to suddenly grow rampant, as if enraged. and around the same time, salem shoved his head down far enough for the water to engulf his shoulders. and it was not her who pushed him into the water, rather it was an unseen force yanking him into the depths.

as the witch rose and paid one last glance at the pool over her shoulder, she took note of a red hue that rose to the surface. after that, silence.

elsewhere . . .

principal arthur armsend was a man of honor.

being a principal and leader to a new era of the world, leading boys and girls and what lies in between into a new age, a renaissance period that would take the world from being a dark and bleak place that they were no longer familiar with, into the peaceful planet they had known it to be a hundred years ago. and he did so by a sharp discipline he gave to all of his students.

classes started at eight o’clock and go on until about four, and every day, something new is taught. from alchemy and martial arts, to care of mythical creatures and history. three meals were held every day at the immense cafeteria, free time started after classes in which students were able to enjoy the open-air yards of this floating monolith in the sky. in fact, they were so high up that you might reach over the edge and touch a cloud.

as opposed to many schools, the academy of valhalla was not one to waste time fooling around. third-year students and first-year students alike worked around the clock in order to harness the best skills in their arsenal in case the possibility of being sent out into missions came. and usually, when you were prepared, you might end up having the best results. students were told to be precise, to never make foolish mistakes, and to always remember why they were here.

although, nobody got it as bad as the principal’s daughter.

you’d expect the privilege to be very obvious; the ability to skip classes, to get out of trouble, to be an immediate social magnet, to be allowed out of the school and into the city to enjoy what it means to be young. any good parent with a somewhat loose way of raising their kids would spoil their child when they had the position they had. but for her, it was anything but that.

“ back straight, seren! ”.

she’s been at this for three hours. not joining her peers in the usual classes would mean that she would have to be doing something a little more different, a little more suited for her, and whilst many might role her eyes, they’d feel their stomach drop when they see the state that seren armsend is reduced to when brought into these private lessons.

at this point, her knees scrapped and legs clearly trembling, fatigued to the core, anyone could tell that seren was going through hell. these lessons tended to last three to four hours, but every time she so dared to look at the digital clock on the wall, her tutor would threaten to extend the time to fifteen minutes. ‘you wouldn’t take your eyes off your target in a real fight to see how long you’ve been at it’, he had said many times. and although it pained her, she had to agree.

her tutor, however, was none other than her old man. at the age of fifty, arthur still managed to maintain a certain posture to his stand whilst in battle that would trick anyone into aging him down a couple of years. he was a petite man, shorter than his daughter by two inches, and that most definitely did not stop him from butchering his daughter and bringing her to her limits in these training lessons.

how many times would seren have to be here a week, you ask? five times. fridays were generally the days in which she would have two of these sessions, one in the morning and the other placed right after lunch and she would only be back in her dorm at seven o’clock in order to crash, rest, and prepare for more lessons on a saturday morning.

iron thorn was clasped in her hand, arms tensing and aching to rest, her entire body ready to collapse the mere snap of the man’s fingers when he allowed her to rest but it wouldn’t be anytime soon. her training gear made her feel ten times heavier, and it was hot, boiling hot. but an armsend does not show struggle in the midst of a duel, they prefer to keep their enemies unsure of their condition to scare them or taunt them. you could only collapse once you’d finished what you started.

privilege, my ass. this is torture.

the clock was ticking towards the final bell which would dismiss all students but the ones in detention, and seren. “ finish what you started, come on. gaze up, for god’s sake fix that shoulder, and stop shaking your leg, you’ll stumble as soon as you lunge forward ”, she was used to receiving these comments, and she would take the feedback in an instant, because she knew arthur armsend when he was angry, a burden she shared in being his daughter.

iron thorn gave a minor whistle as she prepared to lunge once more, no essences were allowed to be used for the time being. if she did use something, the room might collapse. but she was tempted, oh young seren was tempted on pulling the trigger against the handle of her rapier and bring the ceiling to the ground. it would give her at least a minute to escape through the debris and run.

even upon lunging with a perfect posture and speed, the blade clashed against the cane her father wielded. stabbing, withdrawing, lunging, withdrawing, flicking and withdrawing. each set of movement took a mere second because of her semblance, yet her father caught everything and she was beginning to grow slightly discouraged. although not as many could fight as well as him, she knew that there would be someone out there who could. one person. and if she were to cross paths with that person, she cannot steer to being passive. even though it was meagre simulation of a fight, seren was asked to treat it like a reality. and that, she did.

arthur bore a sudden attack that left seren scrambling to get out of her thoughts, darting in withdrawal with a backwards somersault and landing clumsily on her feet, her legs nearly rendering her weak enough to collapse yet she still had a bit of sharpness left in her to know that landing on your ass would certainly mean a scolding from your father later.

this time, however, she did not have energy to raise her weapon to him as he pointed the end of his cane against her neck. she merely lifted her head and glanced upon his gaze that seemed rid of any emotion, meaning he was thinking, analyzing, arthur just wasn’t the type of man to wear his feelings on his face. he knew better than that.

seren didn’t. “ what was with that frown i saw? you know how many times i’ve taught you not to make your thoughts and emotions obvious on your face, your face has to be a blank canvas ”, he went on to say, lowering his cane and pressing the end against the ground. his posture straightened and he seemed to have dropped his defenses. she was not going to attack, however. “ seren. ”

“ m-my apologies, father ”, the girl gasped softly and blinked, verging dangerously close to the point of collapsing. something kept her awake, a part of her subconscious that wanted to keep her alive, her fight response. if not for it, then she would have perhaps been disowned or sent away just like her older sister.

now the only capable of heir in the family with the ripe age of eighteen, soon graduating from the academy, seren would have to carry the legacy of the cold armsend women who never once brought themselves close to failure. she would have to probably join the military route upon parting ways from valhalla, leading young soldiers to restore their lost land. although, if you ask her, if she had the choice, she would have picked the exploration route. unfortunately, being born in this family means that your fate is already decided for you from the moment your presence in your mother’s belly is announced.

needless to say, you have to stay on the route of perfection.

arthur sighed, it was clear he wasn’t happy. “ we’ll cut the lesson short today. you will make up for it with an extra hour tomorrow after class ”, he decided, and in order to avoid angering the man, the girl pursed her lips together and nodded. if one stared for just a moment, they would notice the trepidation in her eyes.

her tutor, father, and principal turned and left the training chamber they had been in for the past four hours. now vacant, the only sound echoing being the pants emanating from her cracked lips and although she wanted nothing more but to lay down on the floor, seren only averted her tired gaze to the immense windows giving her perhaps the best view she’s had of the world outside in a while.

although the empire had seen better days, the mountain of crete was a good place to re-build a city and make the public feel safer inside the walls. there weren’t many who wanted to venture out, probably because they had everything they could ever want in here. technology meant that they could produce food by cloning and distributing it to millions, money never seemed to be an issue as there were jobs for everyone, though it was said that there lived some people outside of the walls, in mainland greece who took care of farms and cattle and had a somewhat older way of living that would have been seen in the medieval times. they were closer to the truth of the world, and the fact that at least a dozen would apply annually to move within the walls said something.

but the talk of the wild never petrified seren as it did to others. they had returned to a time where they believed society was safer, and as soon as you stepped into a zone with no laws or mentions of morals, you’d be in danger. yet she’s read stories of people who lived just fine in these conditions, monsters or no monsters. and though she shared some fears with the general public, the wild was not one of them.

if anything, seren was infatuated with the idea of going outside, of seeing the world for what it was and not for what others claimed it to be. they hardly showed images captured by the military when they leave the walls and attend an expedition, only returning in a week after taking geographical calculations and hurriedly leaving. hardly the military you want protecting you.

seren claimed that with her father in line, things would change. the third year graduates from the year before had gotten good results, one of them had succeeded in establishing a base in almost every continent that remained. and although hardly anyone visited those bases, they were there in case you found yourself lost and in serious need of help. many other alumni valhalla students made technological advancements towards transport and population control, others went more of a political way and started working alongside governors to change the shape of their monarchy.

it was almost a guarantee that those who leave valhalla are destined for good things, but it felt as if seren would not be able to join her peers in that sense and it pained her to such an extreme where she wanted to jump out from those balconies, land in cold water and swim her way out of the city. yet she would have to return at some point, there is always a way back home after an adventure, even if it’s a short one.

seren looked down at her sword and tapped the floor with the tip for a moment, the blade had never once been blunt and yet it seemed like it was in desperate need of a recovery. it must have been caused by the countless daily training that hardly left her any time to catch up with her other subjects. her father was tempted on making a fighting machine out of her, and although she loved a good duel, seren was not a natural fighter. she was more of a diplomat, if you ask her.

lost in her thoughts, seren didn’t exactly hear the beeping sounds emitting from the door of the training chamber until it had come to her side and then began to feel a sensation against her leg. upon looking down, her frown disappeared and her eyes turned to crescents.

“ hi, ted. “

valhalla was known for having ‘familiars’, little creatures often used to advise students and although you couldn’t own them, you could befriend them. seren had known ted since he was made, which was roughly twelve years ago. he has been her friend long before he got signed up to be a companion to her school. at the age of six, ted was the robot she played with when she was alone.

smart, short and oh so adorable, ted-ee 012 mostly helped doctor lin with matters in computing lessons for those who lean more towards the technology route. but he was far from the war machine the school fabricated and more of a health robot, charged by water and able to detect sadness from students. it was probably why he had approached seren to begin with, pulling at her leg with his small hands.

he let out a happy beep as he waved at her, his eyes as pleasant and polite as always. “ i wasn’t sad, you know, i was just thinking ”, she said, crouching to his level. he stared at her, blinking for a couple of seconds with a disapproving sound. “ what, don’t believe me? ”. and then it clicked. “ oh, you got upgraded, didn’t you? ”.

ted hardly got any enhancements done to his figure, as he didn’t really have any flaws and his feedback from the students was always exemplar. but this time around, it was useful. because the upgrade enabled him to tell whether people were lying or not and it worked well during exam season where many would be asked whether they cheated or not.

seren let out a minor chuckle and shook her head, “ well there’s no point lying to you. but you never tell anyone, so i suppose it’s fine. ” she patted the top of his smooth head and then stood, holding iron thorn to her and then tucking it back into its sheath. “ care to get some fresh air? ”. on a happy note, seren left the chamber, ted hovering after her.

the halls of valhalla would usually be empty after classes were over, most students tended to flee outside and look for something fun to do, which was mostly seen in throwing frisbees, playing chess, going sunbathing. some returned to the lounge and played games or watched movies. others returned to their dorms to rest, and a small percentage fled to the library for some extra time studying.

a part of seren was almost glad that there weren’t many people to see her tired state. ted had offered her a mirror through his digital face and she was quick enough to adjust her cotton candy hair and adjust the blue bow pushing the locks of her hair back. she was boiling under this training gear, but she would be out of it sooner as her lesson was cut short, but it was clear she was going to owe her father an apology afterwards for her wandering mind. little things upset her father, but what majorly puts him off is when seren is not focused. it was the reason for most of their arguments and disagreements.

the dorms were in the lower parts of valhalla though the girl took a small detour outside to catch her breath. in the midst of a sunny afternoon, the sky was beginning to turn into hues of pink, purples and oranges as the sun thought about setting. the wind batting against her skin was all that she needed, especially as she neared to the open air yards with artificial grass, smooth concrete paths leading students around the perimeter of the entire yard that seemed to go on for miles and miles. some benches and picnic tables were scattered, mostly occupied by first years who wanted to catch up after their lessons.

seren hardly steps outside, held inside by her tasks, but stepping outside was a freeing sensation, her arms folded and rested against the balcony railings, the wind was best from where she stood and she could have stood there for hours if she didn’t keep telling herself to return to her dorm and get as much rest as she could.

out of everything that caught seren’s attention, a game of football stole it in the end. most of the boys tended to be relatively active and sporty, that was a given as they had to be active if they wanted to carry heaven guns or broadswords with them in battle. seren became immersed in it for a moment, not the type of person to find kicking a ball around for ninety minutes particularly interesting but this time around, she couldn’t really help it.

what mostly caught her attention was one of the boys playing, and as far as she was concerned, she knew who he was. not the person to read the ranks too deeply, seren would only glance at the names and the pictures and this one was one she recognized. kailen cassius, rank number six, an archer. perhaps the most remarkable thing about him, however, what his height.

he had an air to him, though, that of someone who could handle things himself but also relied on teamwork and seemed to be about unity and working things out in a more collective fashion rather than being selfish all the time. he seemed like a good person, she thought. someone she’d definitely befriend and would be able to trust when faced with danger, but being alone didn’t permit her to join any teams. her father said that the only time she’d ever really join her peers in something of the sort was if she served as a tutor.

seeing as how so many of the students were set into groups, she wandered whether being in one would ensure that she would leave and tread beyond the walls, but she doubted anyone would really want to be in a team with her unless if they wanted extra credit or wanted to dump all the work onto her. and since seren wasn’t one to say no to people so easily, she might have to deal with being the one carrying all the work since she had the skills and smile as everyone got the best results despite having done nothing. it happened once in her primary school, and it was what shaped her into the timid, goody-two-shoes of a person that she is.

but say if she were to tutor a group. she’s seen third-year students do it mostly with second-year students who needed some help, but it would work and be the only time where seren might be able to use her position to get what she wants. it might make her father trust her just a tiny bit more, but she never knew exactly when it came to arthur armsend, he wasn’t one to be pleased so easily.

still, she was willing to give it a go.

when ted suddenly beeped, seren was drawn out of her thoughts once more only to realize that she had potentially been staring at kailen based on the way that well, he was looking right back at her. she had totally zoned out and had not managed to snap out of it when she felt the confused gaze of the boy on her. thank god for ted, otherwise she would have made much more of a fool of herself than she already had.

seren blinked and leaned away from the railings as soon as she began to feel her ears and cheeks burning pink. ted let out a confused noise, “ why didn’t you snap me out of it as soon as i started staring? ”. the robot tilted his head to the side with a level of confusion. “ he probably thinks i’m a total weirdo now! ”.

when ted let out an apologetic sound, seren sighed and risked a look back at the boy who had returned to his game, seeming more carefree but not before their eyes locked for a moment and she felt a wave of realization.

seren is hardly one to have an epiphany, but what she will tell you is that the feeling cannot easily be described. connecting the dots, her blank expression was replaced by that of surprise as her eyes grew in size and her pursed lips parted only for her to turn on her heel and start pacing quickly back inside, ted following in suit with some confused beeps.

the top six students are all third-years, and although the top student was often taken out of lessons to engage in more practical work outside of valhalla, that still left five people who were very capable of what she had in mind. she thought the tutoring idea would be pointless, but after her thoughts rang in that training chamber, after she stepped outside and looked towards the walls, after realizing that the world might end up caving in on itself if nothing was done, after such an epiphany, she couldn’t possibly sit there and do nothing.

seren knew her father would never let her out to do something like this on her own, but she knew she could perhaps impose an idea he could not deny. he wanted a daughter that would make changes, and after the death of one possible heir and the marriage of another, the fate settled on seren when she did not wish for it. but she could not change this about herself. but she knew that if good results came out of this, if her epiphany was right and she had perhaps hit the gold mine, that the world would somehow improve. and that was something she was taught from a young age.

her mother left when she was eight but the moral lessons stuck with her for ten years and it is probably why her thirst for knowledge of the outside world and the drive to better things was not leaving her anytime soon. the action of doing good things was deeply embedded into her, perhaps it was a genetic thing or the way her mother shortly raised her. she was a rebel without a cause, a woman who ventured out and never cared for the warnings she got or the many injuries she returned with. because at least she was helping.

so perhaps it was time to start being a little selfish on her end. seren knew her father wouldn’t be in the best of moods after their lesson that afternoon, yet her blood remained boiling, adrenaline causing her heart to race after and her steps to quicken until ted stopped following her and let her run off on her own.

her father’s office was at the top floor, and after a long elevator ride to the top, seren stumbled into the room.

the porcelain tiles she stepped in were drawn with art she had never quite been able to name before. perhaps it was a renaissance-style painting, what with the figures and halos and clouds. every time she entered her father’s room, it felt like entering a museum. he was an archaic man with older, more traditional principles despite being inclusive. but he was one to separate his inclusiveness from his professional way of working, because no matter what you were, he still extended a hero out of you.

the mahogany desk was usually empty as he would have meetings on a friday evening but she had caught him seemingly before he could prepare for said meeting. he seemed to have turned on his record player, appearing blissful whilst listening to an opera piece seren has heard all too many times. the china cup in his gloved hands saw steam rising from what seemed to be his usual chamomile tea. three cubes of sugar, no less.

the minor ding of the elevator made him raise his head when seren approached his desk. he paid her a mere glance, raising a brow. “ why are you not changed? i thought we’d be having dinner together ”, he stated, blowing the steam from his cup gently. “ don’t waste time, seren. ”

“ i need your permission for something, father. ”

arthur let out a sigh. when seren approaches him with a request as such, he often knows what it will be. permission to head to town for the weekend, permission to continue her tap lessons, permission to head to the beach. almost all of those requests were never really granted for the mere reason that he did not want her attention diverting to something else when so much had to be done. but he seemed to sense something was different, he knew his daughter well known and one thing he was unfamiliar with was the glistening pair of eyes like his wife’s staring back at him.

“ although i may be only seven in the ranks, i feel like . . . i-i feel like i know what i want to do before i graduate ”. she quickly took her seat in one of the chairs facing him across his desk. she took notice of his cane resting on the side and gulped.

days ago, he had mentioned that her older sister had one final act as a valhalla student that marked her as a significant alumni. although she married shortly after, she still made history by being the student who uncovered many lost articles and items in other continents, items rich in cultural value as they carried history of their dying planet. and she had done this before graduating. arthur imposed the idea that seren should do something similar.

seren proceeded, “ might i suggest gathering the top five students and allowing me to tutor them? ”.

“ seren. ”

“ let me finish, p-please! ”.

the girl clasped her hands together and forced a meek gaze down, “ i have all these skills in my arsenal and i highly doubt i’ll ever be able to use them because i can’t apply them to the world outside like the others. but perhaps i can let someone else take the lead for me. i-i could teach them what i’ve been taught and hope that they’ll carry it on, l-like a legacy if they choose to step outside of the walls. ”

arthur put his cup down, clearing his throat. “ is this just a reason for you to step outside? you know what i’m going to say, seren ”, his tone appeared highly disinterested, but she was not going to be discouraged this time around.

“ father . . . you and i both know that we have the people needed to do something about what’s happening to the world outside ”, she inquired, still no response. silence lingered until the apprehension faded. “ you found salem’s whereabouts, did you not? ”.

the principal, although he didn’t appear shocked, gave it all away through the way he dropped his spoon into his cup. he rose his gave with a clenched jaw and peered at her, possibly questioning how she’d come to such a conclusion. but it was no rumor, it was true. the general said the men found one of her scouts spying on them near the ukraine, meaning she couldn’t be too far. five years of hunting salem after her escape, only to finally discover the continent she hid in.

“ seren, listen to me closely ”, he warned, leaning over his desk slightly with a grave tone. “ i understand you wish to be a hero. but you will not be the hero who died trying to kill the witch that brought the world to its end. no daughter of mine will do something of the sort. ”

seren continued to fight back, “ but i won’t be the one doing it, it’ll be five qualified people doing it on my behalf because i taught them what other teachers do not. ”

“ seren. ”

“ and you act as if the years of training has been for no reason. what, am i just going to have these skills at my disposal and never use them? did i just waste nearly sixteen years of my life being taught something in case there’s a war? ”, she spat. she had never spoken to her father like this, and in a dark corner of her mostly innocent mind, she was enjoying it. she felt like her mother. “ father, there will be a war regardless. especially if we stick around doing nothing about the clear danger. i’m going to have to use these skills but i could also use them to prevent it all. ”

the man grew quiet. somewhere in his mind, he probably felt something similar. she had heard the stories, her father wanted to be the valiant one in his family to carry the armsend name, but he was the one who deeply injured himself to the point where he had to give up his heroic hopes and let it become mere fable. he didn’t want the same thing happening to seren, but he knew that this time, matters would be different. she would have help.

and sending your kid into a world that is unknown to even the smartest men in the world was a horrifying thought, but it is in like every tale, the one holding the hero back will always have to let them go. that is how the best heroes are made, the ones who were given the chance to chase after their happy ending, not he ones ho were held back. what good is a sheltered hero?

besides, she might end up finding the worthy opponent she had always dreamed of meeting. and if it was salem, so be it. call her reckless or obsessed with heroism, but seren knew she wouldn’t be able to stay within these walls for much longer.

her father knew this as well, even if it was clear he didn’t want to.

“ are you certain about this, seren? ”.

no, she wanted to say. she had hardly given any logic aside from her own hopes and expectations which could be mistaken as mere childish fantasy and desperation to be outside, but it is better not to ask her how she knew it would work out. she just knew.

“ yes ”, the girl breathed and bit her lip slightly. “ i think mother would have wanted to me to do this. i’m an explorer just like her, father. you know that very well. ”

arthur chortled, glancing bitterly at his cup of tea. “ i wish you weren’t. i wish you were more like your older sister, at least you’d stay out of trouble. but you’re the only heir. after ophelia, i’m highly uncertain that there’ll be anyone else ”, he spoke. she felt her blood run cold. but when he looked up at her, he grunted. “ but you don’t have a single cowardly bone in your body. you’re not like isabella and not like me. you’re an explorer, as you’ve stated. ”

“ father . . . ”.

arthur rose a hand and stood, cup in hand and cane in another. he brought himself up from his chair and moved steadily towards the tinted windows, peering outside into a twilight sky. “ you ask a lot of me, seren. not only might i lose my daughter, but i might also lose five innocent lives if all of this goes wrong. and i will not let it be for your fantasy and mere childish heroism. and yet, a part of me knows that soon, salem is going to find a way to harm everyone . . .”

the indecisiveness from the man was making the girl think much more deeply about the matter than she was intending. if someone got hurt, it would be her fault mainly for putting them in danger, but that was why she planned on training them. they were capable fighters, whoever they were. it was a matter of luck and precision, two opposing forces that might have to work together to make all of this work.

“ seren. ”

the girl lifted her gaze to see the man she so dearly admired and loved, the father who was a professor as well as a friend and a leader. she loved him so dearly that she would not think to ask something like this unless if she one hundred percent meant it. and she did.

“ if you can convince them to join you, i will grant your request. but be weary of the time, because it has become of the essence.”

and so, her adventure begins.

#chapter one #original writing #fantasy #magic #futuristic #dystopian

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incorrectly-quoted-queers · 4 years

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Biotic Freckles

Chapter 1: Seeing You How much longer could Kaidan Alenko spend brooding over the fact that the woman he loved saw him as an annoying puppy?

In theory, forever. But he was a soldier, so probably he probably wouldn’t make it that long. Maybe she’d finally notice him if he died a noble sacrifice.

That went darker than he meant.

Who was he kidding? Staying hung up on her would be dumb, and thinking like that was pathetic. Commander Anya Shepard clearly didn’t have any feelings for him.

He fell for her because she saved his life and she fought everything with a fire in her eyes, a beacon on the battlefield. But she was also kind and treated her subordinates like friends; family. Every CO he’d ever had was interested in his L2’s and the headaches, mostly for intel reasons. But none of them asked how he got them and how sometimes it felt like he wasn’t a lucky survivor, but a cursed leftover.

Shepard understood that, the cursed thing. She said it was how she felt about Akuze, the mission that made her famous. He never knew someone like her could feel like him.

Hell, Kaidan could still remember the first time they met. Anderson brought him onto his ship as a new lieutenant and was touting him around, giving him the grand tour. Everyone was respectful and saluting, some making a few quips, but they all were the typical soldier types. He’d seen so many of them, passing around from ship to ship to be the resident biotic for X, Y, or Z mission. The whole process felt like old news.

But then they got to the cockpit, and instead of classic Alliance garb, there was a woman with long, brown hair bandaging up the shoulder of a shirtless pilot. Her thick brows were furrowed, her sweatpants were practically falling off her hips, and she just had a sports bra on top. Not exactly military standard. And when she glanced up at Anderson, she didn’t look flustered like she got caught doing something wrong, just kinda annoyed.

Kaidan was horrified and also instantly wanted to know everything about her.

She went back to the pilot’s wounds, saying, “Joker cracked his bone while high-fiving his co-pilot. Just mitigating the damage.”

Anderson chuckled, like this was the norm here. “Lieutenant Alenko, the one with the chip on his shoulder is Joker, the best pilot you can get. And next to him is my second in command, Commander Anya Shepard.”

After she tucked the bandage into itself, she straightened in front of Kaidan and extended her hand. He took it, rough calluses under smooth skin, but still couldn’t adjust to the fact she was like... this. “Nice to meet you, Alenko. Not to hi and bye, but I was just brushing my teeth when Joker graciously called my ass up here, so I’m going to finish that. She gave a wave and then walked off the bridge.

He didn’t even get to say anything to her, and he was mesmerized.

Anderson filled in the empty space. “Shepard is my best officer; an infiltrator. You’ll be working closely with her on ground missions, but you’ll have to keep up. She’s a great shot but she’s not a very patient one. Her teams move quick. We can have a more formal introduction later.”

“So she’s always like that?”

“Only the best could ever get away with it.”

And Anderson was right. He learned more in those first few days with her than he ever did running practical drills on other ships. Shepard liked the unconventional, and it made her a stronger fighter and leader.

With how informal she was, he also caught a lot more of that sweats look than he ever meant to. But Kaidan had to admit, he liked how she looked with her hair down.

Looking around the bunks, he was one of the only people there at the moment. Only essential personnel to run the ship were left. It was kinda sad, how even though she broke his heart he was the one sticking around for so long. Guess he couldn’t get over her just yet.

Harder to when she’s the best boss you’ve ever had, and you’d be a fool to quit one of the best military jobs in the galaxy.

But just as he was settling down in his bed of tragic misery, his omni-tool pinged. On it, there was a message from Liara T’Soni. Come by my room later, please.

Kaidan was a tad perplexed. They’d never been super close, but it was her last night on the Normandy, so maybe she was just saying her goodbyes. She said later, but Kaidan had nothing better to do. Swinging off his bed, he pulled on some pants, shoved his hands in his pockets, and walked over to the med bay and her science office.

She had never been comfortable, sleeping with the soldiers. He couldn’t blame her; it wasn’t her scene. His parents would say it wasn’t his, either, but they were kind-hearted Canadians. They never really got the military in the first place.

Maybe they would’ve done a better job swaying him if they hadn’t sent him to that biotic school.

When he made it to Liara’s door, he gave it a simple knock. She opened it within seconds, but she looked all flustered. “Hello, Kaidan.” She scratched her head and then added, “I thought I asked you to come later.”

With a smirk, Kaidan couldn’t help but laugh. “I mean, it is later.”

“You’re... correct.” She glanced behind her and seemed a little distressed.

“Do you need me to actually come back later?”

Liara shook her head at him like he’d said something absolutely absurd. It was kinda adorable. He had to admit, her absent-minded professor schtick was kinda refreshing after all the keep-it-tough soldier energy he’d been stuck with. “No. I apologize for the mess. I had hoped to be more packed when you got here.”

“A little mess doesn’t bother me.” Liara gave him a tortured look and let him in. Safe to say, a little mess was an understatement on his part. Her desk was covered in Prothean Artifacts, her clothes were haphazardly falling out of a bag, and even more artifacts and books were littered around the room. Only some of them were properly boxed up. “Never knew you had so much stuff in here.”

Scanning the room, Liara looked overwhelmed. Her hands kept twisting and knotting, which seemed to suggest this wasn’t how it normally looked. He kinda wanted to grab them just to save her from dislocating a finger. “I didn’t either. I had everything catalogued and organized on the shelves and under the bed so I didn’t see them, and we just stopped so many places with Prothean tech... I guess I collected a lot more than I thought.”

She gave the room a couple more frantic looks, and Kaidan made a decision. “Okay, whatever you want to talk about can wait. I’m going to help you pack.”

“You don’t have to--”

“I insist.”

Liara gave him this soft, thankful smile, but she also kinda looked at him like she pitied him. She didn’t need to know that it was this or thinking about Shepard’s brutal rejection. Prothean Artifacts would always seem better. So he just asked, “Okay, so how have you been organizing things?”

For a few minutes, Liara explained her process. Then, they got to work. They bantered a bit about missions and crewmates, but otherwise they focused on the task at hand. It was nice to do something that had absolutely nothing to do with Shepard. Instead it was just him, Liara, and all these pieces of history. Liara even explained a few of them to him, and they were cooler than he’d thought they were.

And then everything was put away.

And then it was just them, the air, and whatever Liara had to say.

She suddenly looked all grave and patted the metal chest in front of her bed like it was a seat. Well, guess they were using it as one. Kaidan didn’t know how to feel, sitting down next to her with her looking at him like that. Her deep blue eyes were so sympathetic and sad.

When they were side by side, she placed her hand on his knee. “Kaidan, I know Shepard finally told you. And I’m sorry she didn’t feel the same way.”

“Why are you giving me a speech?”

“Because I thought you might want a friend who knows how you feel.”

Kaidan swallowed, looking at the scientist in a new light. That melancholy in her blue eyes was familiar; he saw it in the mirror. “You had feelings for her, too.”

“Yes. But, like you, she wasn’t interested. And I know how much that must hurt, because I’m hurting as well. I figured I might be able to support you better than your soldier friends, before I go.”

Staring at the space between his legs, between his hands, Kaidan was still stunned by the revelation of Liara being his romantic rival. And worse, the fact neither of them got the girl. Guess Shepard really just wanted to be alone, huh? At least in that way. Instead of musing until his brain bled, he said, “Thanks for thinking of me.”

“Are you going to be okay?”

He shrugged, picturing his future on this ship, one without loving her. “Yeah. It’ll take time, but I’d rather be on the Normandy than anywhere else.”

“I wish I was as strong. Anya offered to personally ferry me from dig site to dig site, but I couldn’t. I feel bad, she wants so desperately for none of us to leave her. But she refuses to just ask us to stay instead of giving all these elaborate offers. I hope she learns to open up to people, even if it’s not me.”

Listening to her, Kaidan felt the weight of her words weigh on his shoulders and bury into his heart. “I was hoping I could be that person for her.”

“Me, too.” Liara laughed, and it was so soft and light. It didn’t make him feel patronized; just heard. “I wanted someone who wanted to share who they are with me. I thought it was her, but she shares stories, not who she is. I just--”

“You just wanted to be seen. And get to see them, too.”

Liara’s eyes met his, and they were still wistful and hurt, but they were also filled with hope and softness. Her freckles laid across her cheeks like the constellations of her world. Where Shepard kept hiding away from him, Liara was a soulful, open person filled with emotion and kindness.

And while he admired everything about Shepard, he found he couldn’t look away from Liara.

“Liara, we--”

She pressed her fingers against his lips and scanned his face. “If you’re feeling what I’m feeling, that should be enough for us tonight. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Kaidan didn’t need more prompting than that. His arms wrapped around her waist and he pulled Liara close, pressing his lips against hers. And unlike his last attempt, she didn’t pull away or punch him. Instead, her hands cradled his face.

How good it felt to be wanted.

He didn’t know if whatever was happening between them was real or just the byproduct of sharing heartbreak. But with her mouth on his, Kaidan finally felt like he was getting a taste of what he had been trying so hard to make Shepard give him.

Getting as close as he could to her, he didn’t try to think about tomorrow or what would be next. Kaidan just held her tight and enjoyed the next few hours of being wanted, all of him, by a beautiful woman he also admired.

It didn’t matter if it wasn’t love. For tonight, it didn’t need to be.

Hours later, he wasn’t so sure what he felt anymore. Liara’s freckles were still laying out the map of her soul on her face, her shoulders, and beyond, and Shepard was still someone he loved so hard it ached. The woman next to him was beautiful and genuine and he couldn’t help but see her in a new light. But it didn’t change the fact that Shepard changed his life.

And he was the one that had to live with that dichotomy.

But for now, he couldn’t make things complicated by spending all night with her. This wasn’t some bar hook-up on the Citadel; he just slept with the Asari researcher who was leaving tomorrow. And it was on the ship of the woman he once, or maybe still, loved.

So for now, he couldn’t stay.

Shaking Liara’s shoulder, he said, “I have to go.”

Initially, she groaned. But as her eyes opened, softened, and then filled with concern, she nodded. “Yes. Probably. This is already a very complicated situation.”

“Agreed.” Kaidan pulled on his clothes, trying to stop his mind from racing about all the ways this could go terribly wrong and how maybe, this was also a terrible mistake. Then he glanced back at Liara, though, wrapped in her blanket and giving him an awkward, hesitant smile, and he knew even that was more complicated than just good or bad. He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Be seeing you, alright?”

Liara didn’t look so sure, but she nodded anyway. “Yes. I’ll be seeing you.”

And that’s when Kaidan left her room, like none of that happened. It was really late at night- or early in the day, depending on who you asked- but all he had to do was get across the mess and then he’d-

“On a 4 am stroll, Alenko?”

Kaidan’s stomach dropped out of the goddamn ship to see Commander Shepard, dark hair tied up in a ponytail, sitting at one of the tables with this bemused look on her face.

Dammit.

///

#kaidan alenko #liara t'soni #Liara x Kaidan #Mass Effect #mass effect fanfiction #mass effect romance #bioware romances #fanfiction

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gumnut-logic · 5 years

Text

The Hero (Part One - full chapter)

Sorry, guys, the first few hundred words of this are the same as the previous post, but I’ve added a couple thousand words more, I promise.

-o-o-o-

Title: The Hero

Part One

Author: Gumnut

26 - 27 Oct 2019

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: Thunderbird Two, with Virgil and Gordon aboard, is hijacked and stolen. With Virgil injured, it is up to Gordon to save his brother and his ‘bird. Sequel/companion piece to ‘The Joker’. Gordon is far more than he seems.

Word count: 3141

Spoilers & warnings: Violence, WASP!Gordon, Military!Scott, whump.

Timeline: Sequel/companion piece to ‘The Joker’.

Author’s note: For @corbyinoz because she has written some magnificent Virgil and Gordon fics and is a great inspiration. Thank you for all your wonderful words.

It started with ‘The Joker’. I got interested in WASP!Gordon and decided to explore his side of the story. Then PLOT happened. Now I have no idea what is going on.

Many thanks to @vegetacide and @scribbles97 for putting up with my crazy.

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

A glass of ice and amber liquid landed in front of him with a solid thunk on the woodwork. His eldest brother followed it, his tall figure sliding around the table and taking a seat beside him.

Another glass of alcohol sat in his hand.

Scott didn’t say anything at first, apparently quite happy to nurse the drink against his chest.

Breath whistled through his teeth. “So, what happened?”

Gordon arched an eyebrow before picking up his glass and sipping the whisky. Oooh, Scott’s expensive bottle. Nice.

He took a moment to revel in its warmth before venturing into the bitterness of his report.

“He did well, you know. Put up one hell of a fight. A couple of those guys won’t be getting up any time soon.”

Blue eyes peered at him over the rim of his glass. “Virgil?”

“Kayo taught him well.” A swallow of scorching liquid, smooth as the glass holding it. “There were just too many of them.”

-o-o-o-

A ramshackle pile of a building on an abandoned farm with interference peppering the sensors. It was ironic that Virgil had accompanied him for security. AKA big brother hadn’t wanted him to go into an unknown situation without backup.

Whether the outcome would have changed in accordance with that decision, they would never know, but it led to Gordon taking lead and Virgil following. Consequently, it was Gordon who was nabbed first entering the second dusty room of the building and Virgil who had to exercise his self-defence skills.

The hands that grabbed the aquanaut were rough and for a moment the whole room went sideways. He struck out automatically, but was anticipated, his arm wrenched around his back, his knees kicked out under him, and a cold barrel shoved into the base of his skull put a very abrupt end to his defences.

“V-!”

The kick to his ribs silenced him, but his aim had been achieved.

The brother entering the room, froze for just a split second as he processed the situation. Shadows leapt from the darkness, intending on taking him down, but that second, and reflexes drilled into Virgil by his sister, gave him the power to respond.

Virgil’s massive arm swiped away the hands grabbing at him as he spun out of reach. Another shadow leapt out only to encounter an equally massive fist to its face. Virgil’s uniform did its job and protected him from impact, a hard traction boot landing solidly in one man’s guts. A padded elbow hit teeth and those huge gloved hands, usually so gentle, made knuckles as solid as steel - Gordon knew that, one slip on his part in one too many spar sessions had ended in bruises Virgil had apologised for weeks afterwards.

But there were too many, up to half a dozen assailants emerging from the shadows not including those holding Gordon.

The cold ring of metal at the base of his skull dug in deeper as he struggled to free himself and stop the inevitable.

No amount of padding could deflect the bar of steel that shone in the dark and impacted on his brother’s ribs.

Gordon heard the snap.

Oh god.

Virgil gasped and staggered. His assailants moved in.

But no, the stubborn bastard didn’t give up. His fist impacted the side of a head and a man ended up in the dust at Virgil’s feet.

But there were too many.

Too many.

“Virgil, no!” They must be getting some pleasure out of this, because there were guns a plenty, but only one deployed. Gordon didn’t know if his brother had even seen them. “Virgil!”

That steel bar flickered in the poor light and the second time it impacted on his brother, the dull thud was skull bone.

His big brother dropped without a sound.

Dust hung in the air.

“Well, so much for that.” The hot breath on the back of his neck almost overrode the chill of seeing a gun trained on Virgil’s bleeding skull. “Now, time is of the essence. I need access to your ship now, or we will finish him permanently.”

-o-o-o-

“They got me first. Virg was behind me and had that extra second to react. It was unexpected.” It had been well planned. “They...neutralised him.”

He took a swig of his drink and it caught part way down, burning a hole in his throat. “You would have been so proud of him.” It was whispered.

“I am. Of both of you.” A simple statement that said so much.

Gordon rolled his shoulders in an attempt to shake off the echoes of the incident so he could report clearly.

He was only moderately successful.

“They used Virg to get me to do what they wanted.” The words stuck in his throat and he forced steel into his spine, straightening in the chair. The image of his brother discarded and bleeding on Two’s checker-plate decking, a gun pointed at his head.

The soft crack as a boot impacted on his already damaged ribcage.

Gordon didn’t flinch. He was too experienced for that. But it didn’t hurt any less.

Another throat full of burning alcohol attempted to wash the chill away. Maybe he was just out of practise.

“We need to find a way to stop that from happening again.” His voice was parched and he found himself staring off into the distance.

“Kayo’s on it.” The tumbler was lifted from his hand. The clink of glass, the glug of pouring liquid and it reappeared full again.

Gordon took it, an eye flick his only thank you.

“I flew her to the warehouse. Virgil remained unconscious for the entire flight.” Gordon was almost thankful. “I had hoped you would be able to track us.”

It was Scott’s turn to sigh. “John was...upset.”

That snapped him out of his daze. “What?” His eyes narrowed. “What did Johnny do?”

Scott shifted where he sat. “When he lost Thunderbird Two and both your signals, he and Eos went to some lengths to find you.”

Gordon sat up straighter. “What did he do?”

“Between him and Eos, they hacked every telecommunications network in Texas...including the GDF, CIA, FBI, and the World Council.”

“Shit. Did they catch him?”

A snort. “Are you kidding me? No. Though Aunt Val has suspicions. Eos got angry at one point and let loose a virus deleting every occurrence of the word ‘intelligence’ in the GDF network.”

Gordon stared at him. “Why?”

“She found something.”

“What?” Was Scott being suspenseful for a reason?

“They knew, Gordon.”

“Knew what?” For god’s sake.

“They knew there would be an attempt on Thunderbird Two.”

-o-o-o-

It was cold fury, nasty and acidic. It leeched into his bones and swirled in his brain. As each action taken against Virgil, he lined up his opponents in his head, catalogued and assessed. There was fear, but he had no time for it.

“What do you want?” He was yanked down a corridor by one restrained arm. He had asked that question multiple times already. Again, he received as much a response as he had before.

Nothing.

The leader of the group was dressed in army fatigues, but had no identifying insignia or rank other than a simple red slash of a crisscross on one arm. It had been painted on with a brush.

Gordon stored it for later analysis.

But for the present, he was keeping track of exactly where he and his brother were being taken.

Unlike the building they had been captured in, this one was modern, clean and far from a dark, sinister lair. Endless corridors of beige and linoleum.

He memorised their route from Thunderbird Two taking note of as much as possible.

He had landed the giant cargo plane on a private runway and taxied her into a massive hangar. The impression that this had all been planned ahead became stronger. After all, Two wasn’t little. It wasn’t as if she could be stashed in some thief’s backyard.

Virgil was a mass of bruises, each welt a threat to get Gordon to do what they wanted. His heart ached for his big brother, still unconscious and being dragged alongside Gordon between two men.

Until he wasn’t.

“Where are you taking him?”

Again, he received no response other than having both his arms wrenched tighter behind his back. His shoulders creaked.

He didn’t give them the satisfaction of groaning.

Dragged down the hallway, he felt the distance grow between him and his brother.

And with that, he just got colder and colder.

By the time they punched an electronic lock and shoved him into room, he was little more than ice.

The man holding him spun him around. Grey eyes meeting his.

Ice met ice.

He didn’t say anything, but the intent was clear. We have your brother. Do anything and he dies.

We’ll see about that.

The man spun and left, taking his lacky with him.

Gordon was left restrained, in a room with a single bed and not much else, glaring at a locked door.

-o-o-o-

“They knew?” Gordon stared at his brother. “What did they know?”

Scott pulled out his phone, prodded it and handed it over to Gordon.

The aquanaut stared at the words on the screen. It was a report detailing a new terrorist group. The GDF had labelled them ‘Null’ in accordance with the symbol they assigned themselves.

A red hand-painted cross was splattered across the page. Gordon’s lips tightened.

The intelligence reported was sketchy, but the impression was a vendetta against International Rescue, the Hood and the Chaos Crew. A single statement, ‘We will end the war’, was attached to the document.

“Shit.” It came out in a breathless rush.

The document went on to theorise that the founder or founders of the group had suffered at the hands of the Chaos Crew and consequently had a vendetta against both sides of the equation.

“Why didn’t they tell us?” Gordon stared at the phone, a number of emotions roiling in his gut.

Out the corner of his eye, Scott sculled the last of his drink and dropped his tumbler onto the table. “Bait.” An exhalation. “You were bait.”

“Bait?” Gordon stared at his brother. “You’re kidding me.”

“No. I’m not.” Blue eyes were so cold, they hurt. “Eos dug up the command sequence. They didn’t know where the group was holed up, so they were waiting for them to strike next. We were the logical target as we are the easiest to find and lure.”

“Fuck.” It burst out of him in an explosion of hot air and he shot from his seat, storming out onto the balcony. His nerves itched under his skin. The images of his injured brother danced in his head.

The wind leapt off the Island and wrapped itself around him as if in reassurance, but he was not ready to receive it.

Scott walked up calmly and stood beside him.

“Did she know?” There was no need to mention who Gordon was talking about.

“She did.”

“And she didn’t tell us.”

“No, she didn’t.”

“Does she know, we know?”

“No, but as I said, she has suspicions.”

“Does she know what happened to Virgil?”

Scott didn’t answer immediately. “Yes.”

“Tell me it was worth it.”

“The GDF did not succeed in capturing any of them.”

Again, Gordon found himself staring at his brother. “None? Not even those I took out?”

“None.”

“Fuck.” But this time it was a defeated exhale and Gordon closed his eyes, his hand rubbing his face. “What are we going to do?”

Beside him, Scott straightened into the sharp, commanding military man he was. “What we always do.” Blue eyes turned to focus on him. “Save people.”

And Gordon got the message. That blue gaze locked onto him, his brother’s military bearing, straight and strong.

They saved people.

And they would save themselves.

-o-o-o-

It took him an annoying amount of time, but he slipped his bonds. It helped he kept a tiny pocket knife strapped into the inside of his right boot. He would have taken that one as a credit to his military past, but honestly, it was the result of an incident several years ago that saw him snagged underwater and Virgil having to dive in and untangle him. The nagging about being prepared after that had been intolerable. The tiny penknife had been handed to him late one night with worry in those brown eyes.

Kind of ironic that now it would be helping to save that same brother.

They had taken his baldric and rebreather while they were still aboard Thunderbird Two. He would give these guys credit. They were far from stupid. No monologuing, no explanations, just purpose.

He had no idea what that purpose was other than to capture Two and torture his brother as leverage.

Yeah, well, Gordon had a purpose, too.

Get out of this room, get his brother and his ‘bird, and get the hell out of here.

Tools at hand...penknife, metal bed and associated mattress. He looked up...light globe. His eyes tracked a conduit leading from the bare bulb across the ceiling and down the wall, disappearing into the doorframe.

Exposed wiring.

He slipped up to the door, a hand touching the smooth and cold metal surface. A moment to listen for movement beyond. These guys were smart, he was pretty sure there would be a guard or two outside his door.

No sound to confirm anything.

Nor was there a lock on this side of the door, the electronic lock was outside for security reasons no doubt. But in any case, there was no way for him to see out the door or what was on the other side.

His lips thinned.

Wasn’t going to stop him.

He reached for the plastic conduit beside the door and, shoving his penknife under the sheath, pulled off the plastic channel keeping it snug against the wall.

Perfect.

He let his mouth slip into a lopsided smirk.

It took a while and aching fingertips, but he could feel his big brother over his shoulder congratulating him on his skill. Virgil was going to love this story.

Assuming it had a happy ending.

He ripped the electric cables from their mountings on the wall. It took him some time because he had to do it with minimal sound. At one or two points, he thought he had blown it as a c-clamp clattered and bounced on the concrete floor, but there was no response.

That metal door must be thick.

Some re-purposed plastic conduit to hold the cables and a little extra protection for his hands and penknife and he cut the wires one by one.

The room fell dark.

Gordon stood ready, expecting someone to burst in at the change in lighting, but instead a thin band of light from outside shone under the door.

A shadow moved across that band of light, but the door did not open.

No sound.

Exhale.

He only had one shot at this.

He touched the bared wires to the metal door.

The darkness sparked and the door sighed open just a little as the lock died an electronic death.

A sliver of light landed on his blue uniform.

A pair of dark eyes, surrounded by khaki, met his.

A gun came up.

Gordon moved.

He was out the door and the gun was flying across the corridor in a blur of motion. A mixture of WASP and Kayo took the man down, a final punch to the face sending him into oblivion.

A breath and he dragged his victim into the now dark room. A moment of consideration of the value of anonymity, and he stripped the man of his jacket and pants, trying not to cringe when he shoved them over his uniform. His blue boots would have to stay. Fortunately, or not, the pants were a little long and hid them for the most part.

But move. Time to move.

A quick glance into the corridor and he darted through the door, closing it behind him.

Hurried, but silent steps and he retraced the path that had led him here. Around that corner he had last seen his brother disappear into, ears alert, eyes tracking, body ready.

A man exited a door in front of him and Gordon reacted on instinct. Another body shoved behind another door.

The corridor ended in a T-intersection.

Left or right?

Listen.

“Gordon Tracy is a simple man.”

The words were distant and slurred, but his heart lifted. Virgil.

Left.

“I once lost him in the bath.”

Gordon didn’t spare a smile for that memory, though it was a good one. He only had eyes for the man standing in front of the door at the end of the corridor.

Fortunately, it was a short corridor.

Okay, Gordo, you gotta play this one right.

He straightened up, checked his shirt to make sure his blue uniform was hidden by khaki.

Walk with purpose and no-one will question your presence.

To the sound of his brother’s pained voice, he strode down that corridor as sure in his right to be there as he was sure he was going to go through that door.

The guard looked up in question and Gordon caught his eye. A small smile as his brother spoke about jokes and his darkest days.

The guard returned his smile.

The moment he was within reach, Gordon wiped it off his face.

He caught the unconscious man before he could hit the floor and stashed him to one side.

Virgil’s voice slurred on.

“He has seen the glassiness of death and faced down the reaper himself.”

The reason why he could hear Virgil so clearly became apparent as he realised the door was ajar.

Sloppy.

To his advantage, pushing it ever so slowly open, he peered in.

The room was dark except for a spotlight in the centre. Virgil was strapped to a chair and it appeared that was all that was holding him upright. Blood from his head wound dripped sluggishly down one side of his face. He listed sideways, eyes glazed, his words slurred but inevitable.

Gordon swore silently, his fists clenching. His brother had been drugged. What the hell did these people want?

A single interrogator was in the room, his back to the door.

From sloppy to convenient.

Gordon let himself silently into the room.

“The itching powder on the bath towel.

“The hell let loose on April Fool’s Day every damn year.

“They are but a symptom of the man you are facing, and yet so why you are going to regret what you are doing.” Virgil’s eyes were foggy, but the determination was clear and shot across the room at his tormentor.

Blood dripped from his brother’s lip.

And Gordon stepped into the light.

-o-o-o-

End Part One.

Part Two

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Virgil Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Scott Tracy

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