hesitantly tagging this but

anonymous asked:

Since you mentioned it, Ironhawk college AU where everyone thinks tony and Clint are just friends and Tony has a terrible reputation for being a slut but it turns out he and Clint have been monogamous for YEARS and it's just rumors.

Send all your love and praise to @summerpipedream. They beta read this fic (and did a fantastic job). Without them this fic probably would not have been posted for a few more days, so thank you, summerpipedream. <3

Freshman Year

“So, how would you feel if we stored the XL twin beds and we got bunk beds instead.” Tony, Clint’s new roommate, motioned at said twin beds as he stood in the middle of their dorm room. They had bumped in each other as they had been moving in, and learned that neither one of them had a parent or friend helping them, so they’d spent most of the afternoon bringing in their boxes of stuff and building a fort instead of setting up their room.

Clint was currently rearranging one of the walls of said fort. “I can chip in to pay for bunk beds, but unless you can afford to pay the storage fee, we’re sticking to the twin beds.”

“So bunk beds it is.” Tony clapped his hands together. “You can even take top bunk. I like to stay up late, so if I’m on the bottom bunk you won’t notice the light from my computer as much. I can even put up a sheet.”

“Seriously?” Tony was going to pay for storage and let Clint have top bunk? Either Tony was the best roommate ever, or this was some sort of trap and Tony was going to be the worst roommate ever.

Tony nodded, then gestured to the wall where one of the twin beds was located. “We can put a TV over there. I’ll pay for cable, unless you’re already set up for a streaming service.”

“Dude! Are you for real?”

Tony pinched himself. “I feel real.”

A smile spread across Clint’s face. “I think I’ve just fallen in love with you a little.”

Sophomore Year

“So, you up for it?” Bobbi shouted over the music and drank from her party cup. She nodded at the yellow laminated paper dangling from his neck.

It was the makeout party of the year. Everyone had to wear tags: green, yellow, or red. Red signified no kissing allowed at all, yellow was “ask first,” and green was “go for it.”

Tony and Clint had discussed it. Both had been tempted to wear green, but they had agreed it would be better to wear yellow instead.

Clint considered Bobbi. She was attractive. Very attractive. He really wanted to kiss her, but Tony had made a comment two weeks ago that he thought Bobbi had a crush on Clint. Even if it was a makeout party with no strings attached, Clint didn’t want to risk the fall out.

Besides, he had a suspicion there was a reason why Tony had brought up the crush.

“Sorry. Tempting, but my significant other might not be happy.”

“You have a girlfriend?” Bobbi frowned and cocked her head. “How come I’ve never seen her?”

Clint just smiled.

“Clint!” Tony shouted over the music as he barreled toward Clint. He shoved people aside, only pausing to grab someone wearing a green tag by the face to kiss them loudly and comically, then push them away.

Tony threw himself at Clint, his arms flopping over Clint’s shoulder and around his waist. He kissed Clint messily around his mouth, his lips never quite landing on Clint’s just right. His breath reeked of alcohol. “I love you. This party is awesome. You’re awesome. So glad we agreed to this.”

Finally, Tony’s lips found Clint’s and he shoved his tongue into Clint’s mouth.

Clint sputtered and pushed Tony’s face away. He laughed when Tony pouted at him. “You were using your tongue like my mouth was the bottom of a Nutella jar with the last bit of chocolate inside.”

“Hey, Tony,” Bobbi started hesitantly, “Clint is wearing yellow.” She pointed to Clint’s tag for Tony.

Tony scrunched his face, his alcohol addled brain not comprehending. “I think you’re missing something, Bobbi.”

Clint waved away Bobbi’s concern. “It’s okay, Tony can kiss me whenever he wants, as long as I’m not mad at him.”

Tony grinned. “Isn’t he great?” Tony asked Bobbi.

Bobbi gave them an odd look. Like she didn’t know quite what to make of them. “Yeah.”

Junior Year

“Looks like Tony’s made a new friend.” Sam chuckled as he elbowed Clint in the side.

Clint looked up from his stir fry bowl.

Tony was chatting with Helen Cho from his Cellular and Molecular Biology class outside of the checkout line for cafeteria food. The two were laughing. Helena hugged her tray in one arm then reached into her pocket with the other. She pulled out a pen. Tony offered his arm for her to write on.

“Damn.” Sam smirked at Bucky across the table. “Tony may have more game than you.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that you’re still single.” Bucky snatched a fry off of Sam’s plate.

“Quality, Bucky. That’s what I’m looking for.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t have fun while looking.”

Tony and Helen had separated. Tony headed over to Clint’s table.

Clint smiled and nudged Sam to scoot over to make room for Tony.

With a grunt, Sam did so. “So how’s the new girlfriend?” Sam teased Tony.

Tony rolled his eyes. “More like lab partner.” Tony sat beside Clint. Tony had only been seated for a second when he wrapped his ankle around Clint’s under the table. “Clint’s the only person for me.”

Tony pecked Clint on the cheek.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “We get it. You two are soulmate-roommates. No need to kiss each other in front of us.”

Clint and Tony shared a look and grinned.

Clint grabbed Tony’s face and gave him a hard, messy kiss that went on until Sam threw his french fries at their faces.

Tony and Clint laughed as they broke apart.  

Senior Year

“Clint. Tony,” Steve spoke like he was talking to a potential jumper who was standing on the edge of a rooftop. “We all know you love each other.”

“Maybe a little too much,” Rhodey added.

Steve sent Rhodey an annoyed look, and Rhodey sent it right back.

“Listen, you two can’t marry each other just because you make good roommates,” Sam cut in when he saw Steve and Rhodey headbutting.

“I don’t see why not,” said Tony, who was pacing his dorm room as he looked up wedding venues on his tablet.

Clint laid sprawled on the couch, his chin resting purposefully in his hand to show off the gold band around his finger. “I think it’s the perfect reason. I mean, we have been dating for almost four years now, and we clearly enjoy living together, so why not-”

“What!” Steve, Rhodey, and Sam shouted in unison.

Clint smirked. “Have you three really been this oblivious?”

Tony scoffed. “More like they assumed I was banging every girl I talked to.”

Clint feigned ignorance. “But the kissing, Tony. We kiss all the time. We’ve even held hands when walking. For the last two years we’ve gone on vacations with each other for the holidays. We also share clothes and stuff. I feel like we’ve been pretty blatant.”

Tony gave the trio a pointed look. “I don’t know why they’ve never figured it out. All I know is, none of them should become detectives.”

“This has gotta be a prank,” Sam said.

Rhodey shook his head. “Nope. I know when Tony is lying. He’s serious. Congrats, you two. Sorry, for being a thick dumbass.”

“Does anyone else feel like everything they know is a lie?” Steve asked.

Sam huffed and clapped his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “I feel you on that. However, you have to admit, looking back on it, it does seem obvious. We should have questioned them when they started talking about sharing showers to conserve water.”

“Or you know, when we both answered the door naked that one time,” Tony added.

“So, do you three think our last name should be hyphenated, or should we make up an awesome last name?” Clint asked. “How about ‘Legend of Zelda’ for a last name?”

“Only if both of us change our middle names to ‘the’,” Tony responded.

Clint looked up at Tony adoringly. “You complete me.”

baedette  asked:

Any books you'd reccomend on the Roman Republic?

ok so first i need to say……i’m awful and read mainly historical fiction so there’s gonna be Mostly That in this list, also i’m on mobile so pls excuse the shite formatting

My Fave, robert harris’ cicero trilogy!!! imperium (https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/0099527669/ref=cm_sw_r_cp_api_DqUQyb83AZNMZ), lustrum (https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/0099406322/ref=cm_sw_r_cp_api_lsUQybYTC99XX), and dictator (https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/0099474190/ref=cm_sw_r_cp_api_TsUQyb9RSPNDK)
they’re about CICERO and they get the atmosphere of the end of the republic spot on, they’re really sympathetic towards cicero and they’re narrated by MY FAVE, tiro, which offers a Different perspective. if you read these Please talk to me abt them i Love them

steven saylor’s roma sub rosa series is also Good but there are like 12 so i’m only going to link the first, roman blood (https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1849016054/ref=cm_sw_r_cp_api_AxUQyb296B08R), which is abt the pro roscio trial. the books favour the populares more than the boni/optimates which is Interesting after reading the robert harris books, also they’re full of long historical interludes which give everything more Context. the third book, catilina’s riddle is GOOD especially if you read it after lustrum bcs it’s just SO DIFFERENT to usual interpretations of the catilinarian conspiracy……..it also has weird naked moonbathing???? this series is the Gayest of all the rome books i’ve read AND oh man it has a great caelius AND book four is amazing

@pythionice recommend benita kane jaro’s the key (https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/0865165343/ref=cm_sw_r_cp_api_KEUQybTGWH6HP) which is abt catullus, narrated by caelius. idk how historically accurate it is but it has such an Aesthetic…..such nice translations of the poems……Is Caelius In Love With Catullus???? a good book. it also has two sequels, one abt cicero and the other abt caesar, but i haven’t read them (yet). they look good though!!! would recommend.

i’m Currently read the masters of rome series by colleen mccullough and it is the Most well researched, detailed historical fiction i have Ever Read but it’s also So Long….. the first man in rome (https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/0099462486/ref=cm_sw_r_cp_api_EJUQybA6JHTYS) is the first one but there are seven in total and they cover 111BC to 27BC in Huge amounts of detail. they start a lot earlier than other fiction set during the republic so you get gaius marius and sulla and the social war! which is interesting. i mean later on they don’t really look favourably on Anyone except caesar but……..they’re still Very good

my primary nonfiction book on the republic is from the gracchi to nero: a history of rome from 133 BC to 68 AD (https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/0415025273/ref=cm_sw_r_cp_api_qNUQybKSW5EJ1) which is fuckening Huge but good it has a timeline and a glossary and a list of consuls and can also be used to keep doors open. if you want Details then read this. also tiberius gracchus is there

i haven’t read it but my dad says rubicon (https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/034911563X/ref=cm_sw_r_cp_api_VPUQyb1DPA0KG) is good

i Do Not like cato the younger but i’ve been reading rome’s last citizen (https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/0312681232/ref=cm_sw_r_cp_api_7QUQybF5MME16) which is a good biography of him and the dude was Obsessed w the republic so is an interesting perspective to read abt it from

finally and not really abt the republic specifically, vox latina (https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/0521379369/ref=cm_sw_r_cp_api_vSUQybHFQGQJ5) is just my fave. read this if you’re a nerd


Klaus x Reader

Requested by Anon

“Is Camille here?” Klaus asked you and the jolt of fear that always followed Klaus shook through you.

“Yeah um… maybe let me check.” You mumbled and hurried to the back.

It took you a moment to gather your thoughts and actually look for Camille. You didn’t want Klaus to find out your secret and you had thought living right under his nose would be the perfect way to hide from him. Or it would be if you could just keep your head long enough to find Camille.

“Klaus is looking for you!” You squeaked and she frowned, nodded as she left you alone with Sophie.

“You have to tell him!” She sighed and you franticly shook your head.

“He can hear you from here!” You reminded her and pointed to your own ears.

Keep reading

im gna Be Clear abt this because ive seen plenty of people respond t this whole debate in Horrible Ableist Ways so like heres th actual reasons why being factkin is bad

  • fictionkin=completely harmless, literally hurts no one, fictional characters can be you bc they dont also simultaneously exist and know themselves better than you ever could, h a r m l e s s 
  • factkin= real person with real person issues outside of what youve seen of them, literally they are an entire consciousness of their own and not yours to claim, real people who may have issues with their own reality too , therefore someone “being” them other than themselves is hurtful, n o t harmless

heres not actual reasons

  • 0_o its weird
  • [some ableist statement about how “you need Serious help!!1”]

literally everyone ive seen blogging abt this issue is neurodivergent but ive looked through some of th reblogs on the post abt it and like , you can reblog it if yr neurotypical but dont say shit. literally. keep your mouth fuckng shut. this is for the mentally ill community to handle on its own keep your garbage to yourself.

zombie apocalypse voltron au part 1

in honor of the walking dead season 3 getting released the other day or so. i will write angsty headcannons ft the voltron crew. and possible reader. Part one will center around Lance because I realized I was writing a lot for him and decided to spilt it into parts.

It’s summer when the outbreak happens. Lance lives in Arizona, he’s seventeen at the time.


  • Lance was celebrating his youngest sister’s, Elizabeth, sixth birthday when his tio came running into the house, his smoking break cut short. Yelling at everyone to turn on the television. Lance was curious, because his tio was very determined to get a smoke in and wouldn’t cut it short for something stupid. So immediately he had everyone’s attention.
  • Lance’s mom cut on the tv and changed it to the news channel. The news anchors were talking about a weird disease outbreak that was affecting the recently deceased. They were told to stay indoors for now and lock the doors. The whole family was unsure what to do or think, the party was cut short and everyone went home. No one went past the fence to see what was on the other side. The neighborhood was eerily quiet and that lasted a few more days until Lance’s dad decided it was time to leave.
  • They were running low on food and he was going to go to the grocery store and visit Lance’s uncle. They waited anxiously for around two hours and then Lance’s dad came running into the house holding his neck, blood seeping through his fingers. They immediately all rushed to him, and his mother was cleaned the wound and trying to calm his dad down.
  • His dad told them about how the grocery store was completely abandoned along with the roads. It’s like everyone had ran away, it was a ghost town. So he went to his brother’s home and there was blood on the doorsteps, and that immediately caught his attention so be rushed inside to see if his brother was okay. His brother was on the ground hugging his knees, blood all over him. He reached down to help him up and was immediately attacked. His dad was trying to push him off but he was stronger then him. But he bit into his neck. His dad just remembers pushing him off of him and running back into the car.
  • Lance doesn’t know what to think. He’s shaking a little and his little sister, Elizabeth tugs on his sleeve and asks him what’s happening. He doesn’t even know what to say, and he responded truthfully, that he doesn’t know. His dad and mom go to their room to talk privately about what’s happening.
  • He doesn’t see them for the rest of the night.
  • Him and his older sister Gabriel have to make dinner and keep the younger two, Elizabeth and Andre from bothering their parents and keep them quiet. Lance wonders if the oldest out of all of them, Alex is okay.
  • At one point in the night Lance thinks he hears screaming and something slamming into the ground in the next room. But he blames it on his over reactive imagination.
  • He awakes to screaming the next morning. He immediately shoots up from the bed and runs into the other room to find his sister on the ground clutching her hand as blood slowly seeps from the wound. She’s sobbing and yells at Lance to run away with the others.
  • Lance hears her loud and clear but he still makes his way towards the room. Immediately upon entering his mother and father jump on top of Gabriel and she’s screaming. Andre and Elizabeth are sobbing and screaming. Lance yells at them to stay back.
  • His sister manages to push the two off and she yells at Lance. He tries to rush in but she pushes him back. She tells him to shut the door and leave with the kids immediately. To find their other family members. She slams the door shut.
  • All he can hear is screaming and the sound of flesh tearing. He slides down the door and brings his knees to his chest and chokes out a sob. His siblings are shaking and run towards him. He has blood on his shirt. He’s shaking and tears are running down his face.
  • The screaming stops after what seems like forever. He can hear groaning coming from the other side. The three of them stay huddled together sobbing and shaking quietly for an hour after it all happened. Lance can’t let his little brother and sister get hurt.
  • He stands up slowly and tells them to grab a backpack and pack only what they need. They are before 1pm, before nightfall. They nod and slowly get up to do so.
  • Lance heads to his room, he cleans the blood off of him and cleans his face. He throws off the bloody shirt, he can’t even look at it. He grabs a backpack and packs a few extra pairs of clothes. Some small items that hold a special meaning to him. Family photos. Essential things. He then goes into the kitchen and packs the remaining food and grabs water bottles. His siblings come into the room bags packed and dressed out of their pajamas.
  • Lance tells them to sit on the couch for a minute while he does some last things. He grabs a pen and paper and begins writing, “My mother, father, and sister are in this room. Please don’t hurt them.”. He tapes it to the bedroom door and even goes as far as to go out back and grab planks of wood and puts it over the door. To make sure that they don’t break down the door.
  • He picks up the house phone and he knows that the line went down a few days ago but he just wants to try one more time before they leave. He dials his big brother’s number, of course nothing goes through. He lets out a sigh and grabs the car keys and motions for his siblings to follow.
  • He tries reassuring his little brother and sister that he will make sure that they are okay and he won’t let anything happen to them. He locks the door and looks at his childhood home one last time. His eyes start watering again but he turns around an heads for the SUV.
  • He fumbles around for a minute trying to find a map and eventually finds one. He decides to head to the next town over. It would take about an hour to get there. The car ride there is quiet and gloomy. The roads are empty and the sun is already starting to set.
  • The next town isn’t any better, he does find one person. A middle aged man, who lost everyone the first two days. The man calls the disease infected dead Muertos a simple name but Lance knows what it means. The man’s name is David and he tells them that he’s heading towards the South. It gets cold down there and there’s less people so maybe they didn’t catch the outbreak.
  • Lance decides that that is where they’ll go. Even if there is a tiny chance that the outbreak didn’t reach down there then he’s willing to take that risk. As long as his siblings will be okay. The man ask if they have a weapon and Lance realizes that he never brought one. He shakes his head slowly and the man kindly offers a 9mm pistol and two boxes of ammo. Lance refuses to take it, the man says that he has a whole bag full of ammo and that he’ll be fine. He tells that he will need it to protect his siblings and himself, the world has already gone to hell and it’s only been two weeks since this all happened. He also points Lance in the direction of a Hunting store that has a lot of weapons and ammo, and says that he should go there before heading out. Lance thanks him and gives a a few cans of food as thanks. They spilt ways and wish each other luck and safety.
  • Lance keeps Elizabeth and Andre close by his side he holds the gun tightly in his hand. He’s shot a gun before, he lives in the Southwest so of course he knows how to use one. He doesn’t want to use it though and prays that he never has to. They walk down the quiet and abandoned streets towards the hunting supply store. Seems like most of the supplies has been stolen. But he manages to find a few good things. Three hunting knives, he hands one to both his siblings telling them to only use in case of an emergency and when he’s not around. He finds another 9mm pistol hidden under a pile of cardboard and he finds more ammo. He takes whatever food is left and quickly leaves to get back on the road.
  • The first three months went by well, they encountered only nice people and traded things. They had just entered Texas, which it was slow progress but he didn’t want to rush anything or push the kids too hard. They also encountered a few Muertos but Lance learned that they were slow and the three were able to outrun. Andre turned eleven during those three months and they made the best birthday they could with the situation. Lance was even able to find a action figure that Andre was talking about before this all happened.
  • Their luck ran out when they encountered two older men. The two men held both of siblings at gun point demanding for Lance to hand over everything and he’d let them live. Lance couldn’t do that, it put the three in a lot danger. They got a few good punches on Lance. But one of them slipped and that was Lance’s opportunity. He didn’t know what came over him but he ran for his gun and shot both of them dead. He was shaking and sobbing, he didn’t want to kill anyone. His siblings were the one comforting him. They left that area immediately.
  • Another month went by before they met another guy just as they were about to leave Texas. He was around Lance’s age, his name was Hunk. He was kind and asked if he could tag along with Lance. Lance hesitantly agreed to let Hunk tag along, he somehow trusted someone he barely met and so did his siblings. The three of them and Hunk immediately clicked. It was nice having someone else, Hunk was much bigger and stronger then Lance. Hunk was much more mature and observant then Lance. The group headed towards Tennessee.

nemesis729  asked:

Caroline and Klaus are neighbors. Her cat keeps bothering him and leaving "surprises".

When Klaus goes to water the plants on his balcony he’s surprised by how good they look. It’s the first time he’s paid them any mind since he’d moved in and Bekah showed up with them as a housewarming gift. He dips a finger in to test the soil and is distracted by a metallic glint peeking out from under an azalea bloom. Puzzled, Klaus unearths a half buried bottle cap, digging a little deeper to find a second.

It can’t have fallen, not embedded as it was, and he stoops to get a closer look.

Only to find a small treasure trove of shiny objects.

Bottle caps, bits of a bright blue plastic bag. An earring, three quarters and the top of a tin of lip gloss.

All of which, save maybe the coins, he’s certain don’t belong to him.

He glances around, wondering if he’s perhaps managed to anger a neighbour and they’re taking some sort of petty useless revenge by attempting to sabotage his flowers. He’s not met anyone really, keeps odd hours, but perhaps that’s led to noise? Surely someone could perhaps ask him politely to keep it down instead of resorting to this?

Or maybe he was overestimating the average human’s ability to be mature. He had plenty of reasons (and a stellar example, in Kol) that some people took longer than others to accept certain adult realities.

Annoyed, Klaus picks the detritus out of his planters, planning on tossing it all in the bin once he’s back inside. The earring catches his eye and he holds it up, studying it thoughtfully. It didn’t look cheap, like the sort of thing that one would toss away randomly.

He pockets it, just in case he was mistaken about how it had made its way to his balcony. Maybe that one was an honest mistake.

Keep reading

John paused in his typing to look up at his flatmate across the sitting room. The telly was on, but the volume was turned down, so it was more of an ambient noise. Neither of them had been watching anyway. John had been typing up their latest case, while Sherlock had been sprawled in their armchair with his fingers steepled together underneath his chin.

It was disconcerting how quiet Sherlock had been since they had returned from Scotland Yard. He seemed to be staring at nothing, and the bluish-white glow coming from the telly danced eerily across his pale features. Even as John had been struggling with the right words to put on his blog, he had also been bracing himself for another of Sherlock’s dark moods following the close of another case. And even though John should’ve already been used to it, the way Sherlock had been watching him closely for the past several minutes still gave John an uneasy feeling, like he was another one of those organisms being placed on a glass slide and examined under Sherlock’s microscope.

He wondered what was occupying Sherlock’s mind at the moment for him to be so deep in thought. And he wondered what Sherlock was deducing about him now. As he ducked his head to return to his writing, however, it was then that Sherlock finally decided to break his silence.

“Why do you always follow me?”

John’s fingers froze over the keyboard. Slowly, he raised his head to meet Sherlock’s piercing eyes. “Would you care to be more specific than that?” John frowned as his gaze settled on the bandages circling Sherlock’s left hand. “How’s your wrist?”

“The swelling has reduced considerably. I’ve been keeping it elevated above my heart like you’ve said. Why do you always follow me? Why do you always go where I go, even when I don’t ask you to?”

Of course Sherlock would be as direct and blunt in this as he was in everything else. John rubbed his eyebrows tiredly. He carefully saved his blog entry for him to edit later and closed his laptop to give Sherlock his full attention. “What brought this on, Sherlock?” he asked gently. “Why are you suddenly asking me this?”

“You don’t answer a question with another question.” Sherlock narrowed his eyes. “You’re deflecting.”

“And you’re being irrational.” John pursed his lips. “Is this about last night? Did you not want me to be there?”

“What I want is irrelevant,” Sherlock said curtly. “You could’ve been shot. Again.

“And you could’ve broken something worse than your wrist,” John snapped. “You jumped out of a window, for Christ’s sake!”

“I wouldn’t have needed to if you hadn’t been there to be an easy target!” Sherlock shot back.

John inhaled sharply, and Sherlock clamped his mouth shut.

“I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer,” John said quietly, his voice suddenly made of steel.

Sherlock glared at him for a few more seconds before he resolutely turned his head to stare broodingly out the window. John pressed his lips together indignantly before he reached for the remote and turned off the television. Dimly he noted that his left hand was steady as it slowly replaced the remote on the table. Then with a deep breath, he turned his attention back to Sherlock and silently waited for the storm to pass.

He didn’t have long to wait. “Did it ever occur to you, John,” said Sherlock, “That it might be wrong for you to follow me?”

John narrowed his eyes in apprehension. The anger and the hurt were still simmering low in his gut, but he could feel his pulse quickening with worry. “Why are you saying this, Sherlock?”

“Because I don’t always know.”

And it was this simple, quiet admission that stole the breath out of John. “What?

Slowly, Sherlock turned to face him again. Sadness, frustration, doubt, and self-pity were all warring within his grey gaze. “I don’t always know what I’m doing, John. Sometimes it seems like I do, but I don’t. I really don’t. I don’t know everything all the time.”

And underneath it all, John realized with a jolt of surprise, was guilt.

“Of course you don’t, Sherlock, that’s not why I—”

“I can’t always anticipate what will happen next. I can’t always accurately predict what the next move should be. I don’t always know where we should go or what we should do or who we should trust.” John’s eyes were widening at the almost hysterical note Sherlock’s words were escalating to. “I don’t always know what’s right or what’s true and if you follow me all the time I might lead you to a mistake, John. Because sometimes I’m wrong and—”

Sherlock abruptly stopped to catch his breath, and John unconsciously inhaled along with him. He hadn’t realized he had been holding his breath along with Sherlock.

“And it might cost you your life,” Sherlock finished softly.

And there it was: the crux of the matter, the source of this ridiculously convoluted misunderstanding. Sherlock’s eyes were oddly bright and he turned away, blinking furiously.

“Sherlock, you self-righteous twat,” John whispered. “I don’t follow you because you’re right all the time. I follow you because—”

He felt his throat suddenly constrict, and he swallowed, unable to continue speaking.

The chain felt heavy against his chest.

“Because what, John?” Sherlock quietly asked.

He turned at the sound of a clinking chain, unnaturally loud in the quiet that descended upon the room. Sherlock blinked as he realized that John had loosened his shirt at the collar and was clutching at the end of a chain that dangled from his neck. John caught his inquisitive gaze and smiled at him tentatively.

“Do you know what this is?” John asked.

“Yes,” answered Sherlock, before he hesitantly added, “It’s your dog tag from your days in Afghanistan.”

He watched as John stared at it with an unreadable expression on his face. “Did you know I was still wearing it?”

“I’ve… always suspected,” Sherlock began slowly, “but you always wore your shirts buttoned up to the collar, so I never really had proof.” He straightened in his seat and let his hands fold delicately onto his lap. “Until now.”

John’s gaze rose to steadily meet his. “Do you know what it’s for?”

Sherlock took his time in answering, suddenly wary of the direction the conversation was heading. “It’s worn by military personnel, required at all times especially while on the field,” he said. When John remained silent, and seemed to wait for him to continue, Sherlock took a deep breath before he elaborated. “It contains the bearer’s basic medical information, such as blood type and history of inoculations, as well as the bearer’s religious preferences. Its primary use is for identification of the dead or the wounded should they ever be left out in the battlefield.”

“And with these tags, the bodies can be properly treated or disposed,” John quietly added. He ran his fingers over the twin pendants. “If the bearer is killed, the second tag is collected for notification, and the first remains with the body for later identification. That is, if they even come back for it.”

Sherlock felt his chest suddenly tighten. “Why are you telling me this?”

John smiled at him, but there was no humor in his eyes. “You’re the genius, Sherlock. Why don’t you tell me the reason why I’m still wearing it?”

Sherlock frowned anxiously, but the intrigue of solving this puzzle – the enigmatic Dr. John Watson – proved too tempting to resist. He leaned forward in his seat and let his elbows rest on his knees as his steepled fingers touched his lips. He peered at John closely.

“It’s definitely not because of a fashion statement,” Sherlock declared. “It’s not exactly something you like putting on display for people to notice since you’ve been hiding it underneath your clothes all this time.”

The corners of John’s eyes crinkled in suppressed amusement, and he nodded for Sherlock to continue.

He cocked his head to one side, his eyes narrowed in deep thought. “And it’s not because of sentimental attachment either,” Sherlock said slowly. “You’ve been having nightmares about the war, and it’s not something you enjoy reliving.” This time, John’s eyes widened in surprise. “Some of these memories… are things you’d rather forget.”

Sherlock noted with satisfaction the way John’s jaw clenched and the way his fist tightened around the chain. He probably didn’t expect that Sherlock knew that much about him.

“But wearing that dog tag isn’t helping you forget these nightmares,” Sherlock mused. “So why not just discard it or put it away? Why hold on to it?”

John was silent. Sherlock watched him closely, determined to know the answer. Then his gaze flickered to the gun resting beside John’s laptop, and he breathed out, “Oh.”

John tilted his head. “Figured it out, then?”

Sherlock looked into John’s eyes. “It’s for security. Wearing it gives you a sense of comfort.” He glanced briefly at the silver pendants. “It somehow makes you feel… safer.”

John was looking at him as if he was expecting more. When it seemed that Sherlock was done speaking, John slowly let out the breath he had been holding and shook his head, a small smile on his lips.

“So close, Sherlock,” John murmured. “So very, very close… but not quite.”

Mesmerized, Sherlock watched as John rolled his neck and raised his fist above and around his head to remove the necklace. The chains clinked against each other as John dropped his arm, the tags clutched firmly in his left hand.

John’s eyes were a deep, dark blue as he opened his fingers and gazed at the engravings. Sherlock couldn’t help but notice that, under the dim light of their sitting room, John looked more tired and world-weary than ever.

“I was scared to be without this identification, Sherlock,” John finally admitted quietly. “That’s the simplest and most basic truth, summed up for your judgment. I was scared.”

Sherlock’s brows furrowed. “Why?”

“Because,” John said softly, “I was scared I might disappear.”

Sherlock swore he literally felt and heard his mind grind to a halt. “What?”

Desperately, he tried to catch John’s gaze, but already John was somewhere far away, caught between a desert sun and a rain of bullets, a place where Sherlock had no hope of following.

“I went to join the war in Afghanistan because I wanted to be somebody. Not in the sense that I wanted fame or recognition, but… I wanted to be useful in this world. I don’t want to waste my life just standing by and doing nothing. I wanted to matter.”

His right hand reached over to clutch his left shoulder. “And then this happened, and I was sent back to London before I was done fighting, like some discarded piece of broken weaponry and—”

The chains rattled as John’s left hand trembled of its own accord.

“And then I was a nobody again,” John whispered. “I was a limping, wretched waste of space, whose hard-earned medical degree had been useless in curing the pain that didn’t even exist.

“John,” Sherlock interjected, and he inwardly cursed himself for being truly at a loss for words. Helpless, he could only watch as John curled his right hand over his left in an effort to control the tremors. John let out a shaky breath as he dropped his gaze and stared at the floor as he spoke.

“Did you know, Sherlock,” John murmured. “I used to stare at the walls of my old flat and think, ‘I could die here, and no one would even know. No one would even remember who I am, or what I did in my short, pathetic life.’”

And then suddenly, the gears clicked together in Sherlock’s mind, and the reason became glaringly, horrifyingly clear.

John,” Sherlock whispered.

“I figured if I’m wearing these tags when I die,” John said softly, “At least they’d know my name.”

Sherlock’s breath caught in his throat when John suddenly raised his head to smile at him. “You know, I think your brother figured me out even before you did, Sherlock. Hell, I think he knew even before I did.”

Sherlock frowned. “What does Mycroft have to do with anything?”

“He told me the truth,” John said simply. “‘When you walk with Sherlock Holmes, you see the battlefield.’”

Sherlock’s brows creased. He had been watching John closely all this time, and after that strange pronouncement, he couldn’t understand why John looked so… at peace with it. “Because I always lead you to danger?” Sherlock asked tentatively. “Because I risk your life everyday when I ask you to follow me?”

John stared at him for a long moment. And then impossibly, against all reason, John’s smile widened. “You were right.”

“I was right.” Sherlock blinked. “Right about what?”

“You really don’t always know.” John was grinning now, and the change that overcame his previously solemn features was staggering. “So you better listen closely, because I’m going to tell you something I can’t believe you still don’t know.”

John stood up and walked to the center of the sitting room. “And I’m actually glad you asked, because I realized…”

And Sherlock could only gape in shock as John promptly dropped his dog tag in a carton box in the middle of the floor.

“I don’t need this anymore.”

Sherlock stared at the twin pieces of metal resting against his leather gloves. “Why?”

John straightened, his shoulders thrown back. His whole body felt suddenly, immeasurably lighter without the added weight around his neck. “Because your brother is right. I do see the battlefield in you. And you’re a war worth fighting for. Because regardless of what other people think of you, or what you think of yourself, you’re a good man, Sherlock Holmes. And I follow you,” John paused, reevaluated his words, and amended, “I choose to walk with you, beside you, because…”

He turned to face Sherlock fully.

“You’re my greatest victory. You’re the battle I’ve already won.”

Stormy grey eyes met a calm sea of blue as Sherlock swallowed and asked, “And what were you fighting against?”

And John’s weathered face broke into a gentle smile. “Being forgotten.”

The spell that had wrapped around them was suddenly broken by the jarring sound of a ringing phone. Both men stared at each other stupidly for a moment before John realized that the sound was coming from his own pocket. He reached inside his jacket and fumbled with his phone as he stared at the name flashing across the screen. “It’s one of my patients,” John muttered. “Hang on, Sherlock, I have to take this call, excuse me for a moment.” He stepped out into the hallway to answer.

Several minutes later, John hanged up, a worried frown creasing his forehead. “Sorry, Sherlock, but I think I have to head out tonight.” He replaced his phone back in his pocket and turned towards Sherlock.   “I have to go visit this patient of mine, he seems to be having complications with his… medication…”

John’s words trailed off. He stood in the hallway, transfixed, not trusting himself to speak, not even daring to breathe.

Sherlock was now standing in the middle of the sitting room, his body half-turned away from John. His head was bowed, and his unruly curls had fallen across his face, partially obscuring John’s view of his eyes. In his bandaged hand, he was clutching John’s dog tag.

And with agonizing slowness, Sherlock raised the twin pendants to his mouth and pressed his lips tenderly against them.

I’ll remember.” The words were murmured against the cold metal in an intimate caress, a solemn promise, a heartfelt truth. “I’ll remember.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Ciel vs Sebastian

A simple knock of the grand door was all it took for a young butler to open it, greeting the young woman from the other side. “Good morning, Lady (Name).” He bowed to her and took her hand in his, bringing it up to his lips, “You’re looking beautiful,” He complimented with a smirk, “As always.”

The young noble smiled at him, “It’s lovely to see you too, Sebastian.” She giggled lightly, “Happy Valentine’s Day.” She handed him one of the small boxes in her hand, “Here. I know I will never be an amazing cook as you, but I still hope you like these.” Sebastian took the box and examined it. It was a red little box with a cute, pink bow. He smiled, “All this for me? I’m honored to receive such a gift.” He didn’t like human food, but he knew it was crush her if she knew. For some reason, he felt some sort of emotional attachment towards her.

He tucked the box into the pocket of his pants and lead her inside, shutting the door behind them to keep out the chilly cold of February. He then helped her out of her coat. “The young Master is in the parlor, my lady. I have prepared a fire, so I believe you will warm up in no time.” He didn’t sound too pleased talking about Ciel. His tone sounded similar to jealousy, but couldn’t exactly match. (Name) didn’t notice. She was too excited about today’s festivities to remember. She walked towards the parlor, with a blush on cheeks. She would never admit it, but she felt something towards the noble boy and the butler man. She could never choose.

Ciel noticed her the moment she walked in. She had a radiance that wouldn’t leave. She wasn’t innocent or naïve, but was kind-hearted, and he liked that about her. She knew the darkness that surrounded him, but continued to support him. “(Name).” He said, standing. He didn’t use any proper terms. In his eyes, she was a friend, even if he didn’t treat her like one. He could say he felt something more towards her, but to drag her into his life would be tragedy. Yet, why did she continue to come back each time?

“My lord.” (Name) greeted, smiling. She walked towards him, holding a gift in her hands, “You said you didn’t want anything, but I know you love chocolate, Ciel.” The way she said his name was filled with sweetness and she knew his love for chocolate. He hesitantly took the box, seeing a small tag with his name written neatly in dried ink. He managed a small smile for her. She had gone through all this trouble for him. It was surprising, but welcomed. “I actually have something for you too, (Name).” He told her, and glanced at Sebastian, who had come over to his side. Sebastian was still smirking. “We both do.”

The blush on (Name)’s cheeks grew darker. “What could it be?” She asked, shyly, but with curiosity. They both pulled a rose from their jacket. Ciel held a white rose, while Sebastian held a black one. “We’ve been aware of your feelings for us,” Sebastian explained, “And for you to continue coming here, we are asking you to choose one.”

Who will you choose?


here’s a quick archive of all my oc’s and a run down of their background and role in the story! go ahead and ask if you’d like- ill draw a quick pic of them if they get a question haha i’ll be using the tag ‘oc day’ (as i am hesitantly dubbing it) if you want to blacklist!

all these oc’s are part of my personal project Selcouth

Evelyn- 16 year old protagonist. Determined, bold, and kind. Natural magic user who was choosen specially to kill Aren, the evil overlord of the land. An orphan who was adopted by Moria and Spicer and trained her whole life to become the most powerful witch alive.

Lyla- 16 year old paramedic. Softhearted, sweet, and emotional. Evelyns right hand girl, her gal pal. An elf orphan who was never adopted. Still lived at the orphanage, taking medical classes at a specialized medical school.

Moria- 31 year old teacher and mother figure for evelyn. Guilt-ridden, firm, and loving. Unnatural magic user by using a magic imbued gemstone. Came from a small village and was part of the original trio to take out Allison Taylor. Arens older sister, and feels like she should have known he was evil before this all.

Spicer- 30 year old teacher and father figure for evelyn. Stubborn, angry, and lonely. Son of a human and a dragon, sharp teeth and pointed ears. Abandoned home at 16 and wound up joining moria and Aren on their journey to stop Allison Taylor. Fell in love with Aren, only to be betrayed in the end.

Yang- 22 year old leader of the rebellion. Yins twin sister. Catfolk. Headstrong, clever, and optimistic. Saw injustice and knew she had to do something to stop it. Good at rallying the troops and organization. Paints her nails before battle. Can navigate using the stars.

Yin- 22 year old leader of the rebellion. Yangs twin sister. Catfolk. Quiet, dependable, and intelligent. Good strategist, but too willing to sacrifice herself for the greater good. Proficient in most weapons and good at training. Loves the ocean.

Janelle- 31 year old librarian. Unnatural magic user by magic imbued glasses. Nervous, intelligent, and scatterbrained. Owner and caretaker of a huge, lost library. Huge and underground, good friends with Aren. Misses him a lot.

Allison Taylor- 53 year old tyrant before Aren. Accumulated a lot of wealth and power, loved to create chaos and watch the world burn from the safety of his castle. Bad, wicked, and cruel man.

Aren- 28 year old Antagonist. Part of the original trio to kill Allison Taylor. Once the task was done, he turned on His sister Moria and his boyfriend Spicer, kicking them out of the castle and taking the money and power for himself. Turned into a worse tyrant than Allison. Cold, calculating, incredibly smart, patient, confident, and powerful. Natural magic user, so incredibly powerful. Prophesied by his villages soothsayer to end Allisons reign. A good actor, apparently, since he fooled everyone into thinking he was a good guy until he claimed the throne.

Rue- 32 year old gardener. not really prevalent until the end. intelligent, snappy, and caring. Doesn’t really know who he is, after the war is finally over. kinda lost himself in fighting. growing as a person.


I’m Not That Girl~Wicked

“Falling in love?” Pan questioned you while the two of you were hunting, “Love is for the weak, Y/N.”

Your hopes deflated a little. “Really, Pan?” You asked, trying to remain casual, “You’ve never loved anyone?”

“I might have loved before Neverland, but that was a while ago.”

That encounter with Pan resurfaced. You were taken to Neverland when you were 15, and started to fancy Pan, almost like a best friend’s older brother, but Pan was your best friend.

He always dismissed the mention of love, unknowingly breaking your heart a little bit every time. Finally, you realized that you couldn’t stay and begged Tinker Bell for a little fairy dust.

You landed in Storybrooke in the other world without magic. Regina, the evil Queen, sent the people of the Enchanted Forest to the normal world for revenge, but they were aware of it then because of the Savior, Emma.

They welcomed you and, although you still felt out of place, you tried to fit in as best as you could. Pan and Neverland became a distant memory.

Two years later, all anyone at Storybrooke would talk about was Pan coming for ‘business’. Your fanciful imagination got the best of you as you wondered if he was coming for you, but you reminded yourself that he couldn’t love. You had to stay focused.

Your job at Granny’s helped. Someone came in while you were scrubbing the counters. “Sorry, one minute,” you apologized. When you looked up, you almost gasped.

It was Pan. He looked exactly the same with his bright green eyes and brown hair. Your heart raced at the sight of him again. Pan looked at you expectedly so you stuttered, “S-sorry. What would you like?”

“Nothing for me,” he answered, before turning around to the girl behind him, “Love, what would you like?” Just like that, everything stopped.

Pan didn’t remember you. You had definitely changed from the girl who belonged to Neverland, but it was still you.

The girl behind him was beautiful with her blond hair and ladylike demeanor. “A cup of tea,” she answered with excitement.

“Is that all?” You managed to say.

“Yes,” Pan looked at your name tag, “Y/N…” His eyebrows furrowed with confusion. Hesitantly, he looked up to your eyes.

The dull pain that you had ignored for so long returned when he recognized you. You just walked away to get her tea, making sure that you didn’t cry.

“Here you go,” you said as you gave the girl her tea. She was about to say something, probably ‘thank you’, but Pan swiftly paid for the drink and took her hand to drag her out of the restaurant.

Pan always said that he couldn’t love. You even started to believe him. Maybe he just couldn’t love you.

Finally, your shift ended and you left to go back to your apartment. Mary Margaret and Emma were a bit reluctant to let you live by yourself, so they compromised and you were living about two seconds away from them.

No one was out on the streets, even though it was late afternoon. That didn’t really bother you. No one was particularly fond of you. You had hoped that your parents or your friends had somehow been sent there with everyone, but they weren’t.

You stared at the ground, which proved to be a bad idea when you accidentally walked into to someone. “Y/N,” the all too familiar voice said.

“Hi, Pan,” you said weakly.

“Is it really you?” He asked. You nodded, still feeling pretty bad. The feeling got worse when Pan decided to hug you. Once in a blue moon, Pan would hug you in Neverland. It still felt like you were flying.

He pulled away, searching your face for something. “What happened to you?” He inquired, “How did you leave?”

“I asked Tinker Bell for some pixie dust,” you answered dishearteningly. You had always secretly hoped that he would come after you, but he never did.

The look of hurt on his face made you a little angry. “Well, I didn’t know that you were having such a bad life on Neverland,” he stated.

“What happened to ‘no one leaves the island without my permission’?” You mumbled, “If you cared, you would have stopped me.”

“Don’t think that the Lost Boys and I didn’t care about you,” Pan warned, “You are their mother.”

“Then why didn’t you stop me? You could have been mad and left me in the cages to be their mother for all eternity.” You liked the Lost Boys, but you were starting to feel more lost on Neverland.

Pan stiffened. “I knew you were thinking of leaving,” he revealed, “I wanted to respect your decision, but you just left. There was no warning, no goodbye. I thought you would at least ask me instead of doing it behind my back.”

You knew that you were angry, but you didn’t really have any right to be. Instead of telling him so that your love wouldn’t grow anymore, you didn’t. He didn’t know that everything he did for you made you hurt.

He tried to get you to look at him. “Y/N, please just tell me why. I’ve been thinking of what happened before you left that would cause it, but I can’t. I even tried to be nicer to you so maybe you wouldn’t leave. You hurt us.”

“Pan, if you knew that I was leaving, you must know why,” you insisted.

He looked at you sadly. “I had my suspicions.”

Tears danced in your eyes. “Then why didn’t you tell me?” You asked.

Pan looked at the ground. “I don’t know. Part of me liked the attention. I liked that the only girl on the island fell for me. I didn’t realize how it felt for you.”

“So I was just part of a game that you won,” you said sadly, “Now you have her.”


“Pretty name,” you managed to say.

“Yeah,” he nodded. Pan looked up hopefully. “Y/N, I know that I hurt you.” Your mind made up a scenario of him apologizing and saying that he loved you.

“You did,” you stated, already ready for the apology.

“And nothing can change that.”

“I know.”

“Then, can we be friends? Good friends,” Pan started, “You can come back to Neverland and be the boys’ mother again.” He smiled almost joyfully

The minute he said 'good friends’, your mind practically blew up. He never loved you. Not even a little. Then belittled you by saying love is weak when he knew how you felt. Then brought his girlfriend to see you after two years there and who knows how long on Neverland.

“You-you bastard!” You yelled, “You told me that you knew of my feelings for you and basically played me! You think I can be your friend again, let alone good friends?”

The smile bled from his face when he realized how it sounded. “Y/N, no-”

“I mean, it’s one thing to just tell me, but you let it continue,” you continued, “Because of you, my chance of a better life was ruined!” Your eyes narrowed. “You know what, I regret every single tear I cried over you. And you needn’t imagine that there were many of them!”

His eyes pleaded with yours. “Please, Y/N. You were one of my closest friends and it hurt me-”

“It hurt you?” You demanded, letting your own jealousy seep in, “Yeah, cause when you’re with Wendy, it doesn’t seem to be hurting you.” Shooting him one last glare, you walked back to your apartment. Nothing in your life has made you feel as relieved as that moment.

Quickly and Quietly part 7

A/N: Here it is! The seventh part. Things should start to pick up after this!

Word Count: 3770

Warnings: None

Part 6

“Could I talk to you?” Pietro asks, sliding his hand down my arm to capture my hand. Everywhere his hand touches leaves a trail of goosebumps prickling along behind it.

“Uh, yeah,” I say, looking back over my should I see Bucky comfortably walking and talking with Steve. Satisfied, I return my focus to Pietro. “Sure, what’s up?”

“Earlier you were saying that you are ugly, but you are definitely not.” He says quietly. “You know that, right?”

“I do now…” I respond, my voice even quieter than his. “Thank you, Pietro.”

“Of course,” He nods. “If anyone deserves to know they are beautiful, it is you.”

“Speaking of things people deserve to know, what was that kiss all about earlier?” I ask, lifting one eyebrow.

“Oh, yes that.” He says, scratching the back of his head. “I may have been a little jealous of the time you were spending with Mr. Barnes this morning and last night. It wanted you to pay attention to me instead. I figured either you would like it, or you would slap me. I couldn’t tell how you felt about it from your reaction so I just like of , eh, ran away.”

“Oh. Oh.” I say, grinning like a little kid. “We’re just friends, P. He and I were in the same line of work during our respective times in Hydra. We’ve got a lot in common.”

“Oh,” He says, his tone flat.

“Yeah,” I chuckle. “The next time you want attention from me, please just tell me instead of acting like a three year old.”

“Alright.” he says, smiling brightly at me. “I must ask though. How did you feel about me kissing you?”

“Mostly surprised, I think. It was our first kiss and I didn’t get to participate in it much because of the circumstances. But,” I kiss his hand before letting it go and winking at him. “Maybe we could talk about this more over dinner tomorrow at six?”

“(Y/N), are you asking me out?” He asks, mock surprise colouring his voice.

“Just a little bit, speedy, just a little.” I grin at him before leaving to do some other shopping.

I had half expected him to follow me, but he didn’t so I just stay in the mens department. After wandering around for a short while I find a couple of cardigans. I choose one that is steely gray for myself and other that is deep crimson for Pietro. Pietro hasn’t got any sweaters, much less one in his sister’s favorite color, and I’m sick of people staring at me.

As I’m about to head to the registers another item catches my eye. It’s a deep, almost chocolate brown leather jacket. It’s somewhere between a bikers jacket and a bomber jacket in design. It immediately reminds me of Bucky. He could use another jacket aside from the one he arrived in.

Upon closer inspection I find that it is, miraculously, about Bucky’s size. I desperately want to get it for him. Call it a “Welcome to the tower” gift. Hesitantly, I check the price tag, only to find that the once $200 jacket has been marked out 75% and is now $50.

I lift the jacket, on its hanger, off the rack. I examine it more closely, rubbing the soft leather between my fingers. I spin around, grinning, in a little dance to celebrate the sheer luck that the universe has graced me with. I notice a few people have stopped to stare at me and I freeze under their gazes, shrinking back to try and hide amongst the racks of clothing, my cheeks heating up. After hiding for a moment I rush off to pay for my findings and then to meet up with the guys.

When I catch up with the three men they’re all standing around in the perfume department. Pietro looks exasperated, but Steve is standing beside Bucky looking somewhat teary eyed. Bucky is holding a bottle of perfume, his facial expression is filled with concentration.

Before Joining them, I take the steel gray cardigan from the bag, remove the tag and slide it over my arms. I come to stand by Pietro’s side, watching Steve and Bucky.

“What’s happened?” I ask, tugging at the collar of my sweater.

“The new guy seems to have remembered something.” Pietro answers, looking at me briefly before turning back to the scene. “And we were so close to leaving too.” A whine mixes with his words near the end.

I sigh and stroll over to Steve and Bucky, gently and silently snaking my arm around Steve’s waist. In turn he pulls me into his side, his arm around my shoulders.

“That’s the perfume my mom used to wear when my dad would take her out.” Steve whispers. “They always asked Bucky to stay over when they could actually make time to go.”

Bucky turns to Steve and I, a single tear rolling down his cheek. I set down the bag I’ve been holding and reach out to him, wiping away the tear with my right thumb.

“There’s so many emotions.” Bucky says. His voice sounds like it’s on the verge of breaking. “I just feel so much, (Y/N).”

“I know.” I whisper.

“I remember…” Bucky starts, turning to Steve. “I remember that night, in February, when your parents went out. Your father stood by the door and I remember him just smiling so brightly at your mother…” When he pauses I can feel Steve’s breath hitch and his arm around my shoulders pulls me tighter to him. “They were so kind to me… Why?”

“Because you were a good kid,” Steve answers. “A good man. You were like a son to them.”

Bucky replaces the perfume and stands there silently, staring at the floor, deep in thought.

I can practically feel the impatience radiating off of Pietro in waves so I carefully take the keys from Steve’s back pocket and toss them to him. He manages to catch them and after doing so shoots me a puzzled look.

“Get the car started. We’ll meet you out there.” I whisper, handing him my bag. “The cardigan in there is for you. The red one.”

His eyes glint with a little excitement and he nods at me before walking off in the general direction of the car.

Once he’s disappeared in the crowd I turn back to Steve and Bucky. As I turn to face him, Bucky seems to surge forward, wrapping an arm around Steve and  another around me, pulling us to his chest. Steve and I are startled at his sudden embrace but, slowly, we respond in kind. Steve wraps his left arm around Bucky’s shoulders protectively. I snake my arm around his midsection and pull myself tighter to his chest. When his shoulders begin to shake I ball up a fistfull of the fabric of his top at the small of his back. He buries his face in the crook of my neck in response. Steve rests his free hand on my shoulder before he starts to rub slow, reassuring circles between Bucky’s shoulder blades.

After a short while he’s calmed down and pulls himself away from Steve and I. Taking deep breaths, he wipes the wetness away from his eyes,

“That was a little, um…” Bucky pauses, trying to find his words. “Overwhelming.”

“Do you think you’re ready to head back now?” Steve asks, sympathy and worry etched into his features.

Bucky nods and Steve squeezes his shoulder reassuringly in response. As we turn to go, Bucky runs his left hand down my right arm to grasp my hand. He runs his thumb over the back and, surprisingly, I can feel it. I guess Tony’s genius knows no bounds.

We walk to the car in a sort of horizontal formation with me on the far left, Steve on the far left and Bucky in the middle.  As we make our way to the car Bucky’s thumb keeps drawing slow circles on my hand sending surprising goosebumps prickling up my human arm and my neck, making me shiver a little.

“So, getting your memory back is kind of intense.” Bucky intones, his voice quiet.

“You’re tellin’ me, Buck.”

“What?” Steve asks.

“What?” I repeat.

“What’s this about you getting memories back?” He asks, his tone stern.

“Damn, I forgot you had super hearing too.” I say, running a hand over my face. “Well, I-”

“She was just sympathizing with me.” Bucky cuts me off. I look up at him, eyes wide, and he just looks down at me, smiles, and shoots me a wink before turning back to Steve.

“Oh really?” Steve sounds unconvinced.

“Really.” Bucky nods in affirmation.

“So there’s nothing you’re not telling me?”

“If you needed to know she would tell you, right?” Bucky says smoothly, using my words in my defence.

“I suppose so.” Steve shakes his head, shrugs and finally drops the topic.

Thanks, I mouth to Bucky.

“No problem. You’re my friend.”

At that I feel my heartbeat quicken slightly, and smile makes it’s way onto my features.

We walk the rest of the way in relative silence with the occasional captain america fan stopping Steve in the middle of the mall for a chat and to try and get a picture. Once we’re out of the massive building, all three of us nearly run for the car. We all climb into our previously assigned seats and heave a collective sigh of relief to be out the crowded public space.

“So,” Pietro says, somewhat mockingly. “How did it go?”

“It went great, Pietro.” I retort, smacking hard on the shoulder to try to tell him to shut up.

“Great!” He says happily. “So we can leave now, right?”

“Yes, Maximoff, we can leave now.” Steve says, exasperation leaking into his voice.

I scoot over into the middle seat and buckle in next to Bucky. I remember how important it

was for me to have someone near me when I first started getting my memories back. Even if that’s not what he needs, I can still lend silent support.

As Steve pulls out of the parking lot, Bucky scoots closer to me, at least, as close as the seat belt will allow. He links his right pinky with my left. In return I squeeze his pinky with mine.

“You okay?” I ask quietly.

Steve seems to sense that this is a private conversation and turns on the radio, almost instantly starting up a conversation with Pietro to distract him. I thank him silently and turn my attention back to Bucky.

“I think I will be.” He sighs quietly. “I think I’m just a little shaken up.”

“That’s understandable.” I nod. “It was a lot all at once, from a long time ago and in an unfamiliar environment.”

“I guess.”

“How old were you guys? In your memory, I mean.”

“I’m not sure. Maybe 16 or 17?”

“Whoa.” I breathe.


“Your brain is really taking you back to the beginning.” I muse.

“Is that not how it went for you?” He asks.

“No, not really. I was just all over my personal timeline. One memory from when I was three, another from when I had just been taken to the sandbox. It’s probably because I can be scatterbrained at times.” I answer. “Maybe your brain works in a more chronological way and that’s why you’re starting so close to your beginning.”

“Maybe…” He trails off, his expression pensive.

“Like I said earlier, don’t worry about trying to remember everything at once. Your only job right now is learning how to relax again. Besides, you’ll just give yourself a headache, believe me.”

Bucky chuckles in response and nudges my shoulder with his. I smile and nudge him back. After that we sit in silence for the rest of the ride. Somewhere between the time we left and the time we arrive at the tower I begin to feel drowsy. I end up closing my eyes, resting my head on Bucky’s shoulder and falling asleep. It feels like it’s been only five minutes when someone is shaking me awake.

I shake my head to try and clear away the grogginess and run a hand over my face in an attempt to rub away the sleep. I look around, trying to get my bearings. I slowly realize that I’m still in the car and it was Bucky who woke me up.

“We’re back.” He says quietly.

I nod absentmindedly and stretch, the plates of my arm shift and make popping noises before settling back into their normal and respective places. I slowly get out of the car and grab my bag out of the back of the car before heading towards the staircase with Bucky.

“I didn’t drool on you, did I?” I ask. He laughs in response.

“No, not really.” He shakes his head.

“Not really?! So I definitely drooled on you then.”

“Well, I mean, a little yeah.” His soft laughter echoes through the stairwell as we ascend to the living quarters.

“I am so sorry, that is one of the grossest things I could have ever done.”

“No, don’t apologize, it wasn’t that bad. It was just a couple drops.” He says, shrugging as we exit the stairwell and enter the hallway.

“Alright, if you insist.” I follow him out and am almost immediately met with the broad chest of Steve. I look up at him, eyebrows raised questioningly.

“Could I speak to you?” He asks, his tone scarily serious. “Alone?”

“Uh, sure,” I say, looking from Steve to Bucky and then back again. “I guess.”

He gently, but firmly grabs me by the arm and steers me to my room, closing the door. After flipping on the lights he turns to face me, arms folded across his chest, his expression stern. I can feel the blood drain from my face as he takes a few steps closer to me, stopping to stand only inches from my face, immediately making me drop my shopping bag.

“So, what’s this about you getting memories back?” He asks.

“Steve, I need you to back up a little bit.” I sat quietly. I can feel my heartbeat start to quicken along with my breath. I back away from him, but he follows me.

“No, not until you answer my question.” He presses.

“Steve, please.” I plead, my voice shakes and my back is now up against the wall. I can feel an anxiety attack building up, and if I don’t get some space soon I’m going to start another fire. “I can’t keep control if you don’t. I don’t want to burn anything.”

“O-oh, I’m sorry (Y/N). I didn’t realize…” He quickly moves back a few paces, giving me the space I need to breathe and calm down.

“No,  it’s fine, there was no way you could have known.” I run my hands through my hair and slide my back down the wall.

“I still need to know,  (Y/N).” He crouches down to be on my eye level. “You were wiped, weren’t you.”

“Yes, “ I breathe deeply, trying to keep myself from crying. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t even know I was wiped, Steve. I didn’t have anyone from my past to tell me who I was or where I was from. When everything started coming back I was terrified. I didn’t know what to do and I didn’t think I could talk to anyone about it.” I sigh, trying to calm myself. “It’s not like I didn’t want to tell you, believe me I did, I just didn’t know how to do it.”

“Do you not trust me?” He sounds hurt somehow.

“No! I trust you completely!” I cry, looking at him pleadingly. “I didn’t want you think I was a hinderance to the team. I wanted to belong somewhere safe for once. You don’t know what it’s like to not know who you are, Steve. Existentially, maybe, but mentally or physically? It was mortifying to remember the things I did when I was in Hydra. I remembered every person I killed. How I did it, how it felt when they died in my arms, how I didn’t feel anything when they did.”

“I had no idea.” He sits down next to me on the wall, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

“That was the point. You weren’t supposed to know.” I cover my eyes when I feel tears start to fall onto my cheeks. “I’m not the same person I was two months ago and I don’t even want to remember who that monster was. She wasn’t me. There may have been small parts of me in her, but I’m not her.”

“You definitely aren’t the person we found in that transport two months ago,” He pulls me closer to his side, rubbing my left arm with his hand in an attempt to comfort me. “But I would never have expected you to be whole after having been in Hydra for so long, none of us would.”

“I know…”

“Have you told anyone else?”

“Only Bucky,” I pause for a moment deciding if I should continue. “But Tony knows too.”

“What? How did Stark know before I did?” He asks, sounding a little upset.

“Hey, it’s not my fault! The man’s got a shit load of cameras all over the tower and apparently they’ve got mics too. I was talking to Bucky in the gym earlier, telling him about getting my own memories back before I had to go up for a diagnostics check on my arm.” I move my hands around, illustrating the order in which things happened. “I went to the lab and Tony commented on how comfortable Bucky was around me and I said that I thought that I might have known him, and then Tony told me he knew. So. Yeah.”

“He’s got cameras all over the tower?” He asks, his eyes widening. “Just how many are we talking here?”

“You might want to search your room. Thoroughly.”

“That man is a pervert.” Steve sighs.

“You’re telling me. I found five cameras in my room. Five. And two of them were in my bathroom.”


“They didn’t work, so that’s okay, but still. Gross, Tony.”

Sorry, sweetheart. Tony’s voice floats over the intercom.

“I thought I told you no more spying on us!”

And I told you, my tower, my rules. And cap, wearing your own merch? Really? Even I don’t do that.

I look to see Steve blushing profusely and trying to hide it with his hands.

He’s blushing right?


Nice. Stark out.

And with that Tony’s voice ceases to come through the intercom and Steve sighs. I just laugh.

“So. You wear your own merchandise, huh?” I say, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Maybe.” He rests his head back on the wall.

“Don’t worry, I do too. As pyjamas.” I wiggle my eyebrows at him. “So what do you wear? The t-shirts? The sweat pants? The boxers?” He turns his head to look at me, clearly all kinds of embarrassed. “No. Steve. You can’t. You just can’t.”

“Come on, they’re comfortable!” He whines.

“It’s one thing if it’s sweats, but underwear? Have you no shame, man?” I flail my arms for emphasis and Steve grabs me around my middle, pulling me onto his lap and tickles my sides. “STEVE, NO!”

“I’ll stop if you promise to never tell anyone about what you heard learned today.” He says, resting his hands on my sides.

“I can’t make any promises.” He sighs and starts tickling me again and my hands fly to his forearms, trying to get him to stop. “”Alright, ALRIGHT! I promise! I won’t tell anyone.” Steve stops tickling me.

“Good.” He smiles.

“But you have to promise me something.”


“You can’t tell anyone about my memory.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

“Thank you.” I haul myself off his lap and offer Steve a hand up in turn. He nods and heads towards the door.

“You said you might have known Bucky,” He says before leaving. “Does that mean-”

“That I haven’t got everything back yet?” He nods. “Yeah. That’s exactly what it means.”

Steve just nods before disappearing through the doorway. After he’s gone I strip what little bedding is left off of my bed and toss it into a corner of the room. After quickly replacing it with the new bedding I flop down on my back to relax for a second. I don’t get to be alone for long because the door opens and closes again. I prop myself up on my elbows to find Bucky making his way over to the bed. He sits down on the edge for a second before laying down beside me.

“Hey, Buck.” I say quietly.

“So what did Steve want?” He asks.

“He got me to tell him about my memory.”

“Oh.” He intones.

“Eh, he would have found out sooner or later. Besides, I totally got some dirt on him.”


“Yeah. I’ll tell you if you promise not to tell anyone.” I smile slyly.

“Lay it on me.” He chuckles lightly.

“He wears his own merchandise.”

“What?” Bucky says, sitting up and looking down at me. “Really?”

“Uh-huh. And that’s not even the best part.” I try to suppress my laughter. “He wears the Captain America underwear.”

Bucky snorts and falls back onto the bed, breaking out into laughter. His laugh is loud and booming, and genuinely happy. It’s magnificent.

“Seriously?” He asks, gasping for air.

“Mhmm.” I snort and chuckle to myself. “Oh hey, there’s something for you in that shopping bag over there.”

“Really?” He asks, getting up to investigate. When he pulls the leather jacket out of the bag he looks up at me with wide eyes. “(Y/N)…”

“Do you like it?” I ask, sitting up and swinging my legs over the side of the bed. I rise from the bed and approach him.

“I-I love it! But how could you ever afford something like this?” He slips the jacket on, running his hands over the leather of the sleeves. It fits perfectly.

“Stark gives me an allowance like a five year old. Not that I’m complaining!” I add, just in case Tony is listening. “And it was on sale, so don’t worry about it too much.”

“Thank you.” He says, rushing forward and wrapping his arms around my shoulders in a hug. I respond in kind, circling my arms around his waist.

“Welcome to the tower, James.”


Part 8

Thank you so much for reading! Feedback would be greatly appreciated!

This was inspired by the prompt - We accidentally switched our suitcases from the airport terminal AU, which I saw cross my dash yesterday. And it ended up a lot longer than I expected. Oops!

Red. Pink. Black. Black. Another black. Pink again. Green. Hawaiian print? Blech.

The suitcases continued to loop around in a never ending circuit, all different shapes and sizes and colours. The longer she stood there, the more suitcases appeared on the conveyor belt, as though every person in the damn world had been travelling on her flight. And right now, they were all preventing her from doing what she really wanted to do.

All Katniss Everdeen wanted as of this moment was to get to her hotel, have a shower and scrub the last 8 hours of sitting next to a drunk guy falling asleep on her shoulder off of her skin. And order a meal and a beer from room service.

She glanced at her watch, noted that she’d been waiting close to 15 minutes already. It probably wasn’t all that long in the grand scheme of things, but she’d already seen a few people arrive after her and saunter off with their Samsonites, iPhones already up to their ears as they reconnected with the world.

Keep reading

Neighbours (Part 10)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: You’ve moved into a new apartment in Brooklyn. Your neighbour starts getting friendly, and you wonder where it could lead. How are you going to cope with what’s about to happen next?

Word count: 1533

A/N: finally got this out, hope you enjoy it!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 11

Masterlist (mobile friendly)

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“Steve. What’s Project Cobra?” You asked hesitantly, placing the folder back town on the table slowly.

“It’s something HYDRA were working on while they grew under S.H.I.E.L.D. It never got approved by any of the actual S.H.I.E.L.D. employees, but we think they were working on it afterwards, too.” His voice was hushed slightly, so as to not draw much attention to the two of you at the table.

You flicked through the pages. Something about a serum they were trying to develop, similar to the one used in Project Rebirth for Steve.

“It’s supposed to turn a human into another super soldier, like me or Bucky. But it also links into the South American folklore about Kanimas. Do you know what they are?”

“Think I saw it on a TV show once,” you said absentmindedly, you were still flicking through the folder.”

“Well, these Kanimas were kind of like werewolves,apparently, also a mythical creature mind you, except they had longer claws, long tails, and they were covered with scales like a reptile.” You were confused as to why Steve was telling you this information, and why it was important you knew more than Bucky did.

“The serum they were working on, didn’t do any of that, no tail, no scales. But it did stay true to one part of the lore; it was supposed to give whoever it was used on paralytic venom. Anyway, when we first found out about it, we thought they’d make some sort of army out of this, however, that wasn’t the case.”

“So what is the case?” you asked, you had gotten to the end of the file so you placed it down and drank your coffee. You didn’t really know what else to say right at that moment.

“A few months ago we had a small attack, HYDRA, of course. We found out that they were looking for Bucky again. So then we thought they’d use it on Bucky, turn him into this thing.”

“But he’s still okay right, he’s not like this thing is he?” You were suddenly very worried. If it didn’t happen to Bucky then chances are they could have used it on you.

“Yes, Bucky’s fine. But then was the attack, the one where they took you.” Steve trailed off, like he didn’t want to say what was next.

“You think they gave it to me? That’s not the power I got, I have electrical powers. I thought Bucky told you.”

“The thing about this serum is it takes a while to develop, while they may have given you another serum which gave you your powers, they might have injected this one, too, and it just hasn’t developed yet.” He spoke slowly, smoothly so as to not worry you or frighten you.

“That would explain why they thought it had gone wrong when I woke up,” it made sense now, you thought.

“Exactly. That’s why I sent you to the infirmary as well, to see if we could find any anomalies.” You could see that Steve was obviously worried about you, about what you might become.

“So, Bucky doesn’t know that I could still become that. He thinks I’m safe?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

You thought for a second. Should you tell Bucky, he is your boyfriend after all. But then again, you didn’t want to worry him either, and you certainly didn’t want him to be scared of you.

“Why do you think that they gave it to me?” you asked. They really had no reason to think they injected it into you.

“We swept the entire facility, and we didn’t find any vials of serum, even the regular stuff. Unless they kept it hidden in some secret room we didn’t find, they definitely used it.”

You took a sip of your coffee, unsure of what to say.

“You should probably go home, [Y/N]. Have a think about it. Our scientists were already working on a reversal serum just in case, we’re not sure if it’ll work but it’s all we’ve got.”

You finished your coffee in one last gulp. “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow, Steve.” You got up from your chair and walked out of the little coffee shop.

You checked your phone on the way to the station and noticed that Bucky had messaged you.

“They sent me home, let me know when you’re on your way back.”

You replied to him and continued on to the station.

It was quite late, around 8 o’clock. The sun was almost down and the stars began peeking out in the sky. You had time to think on your journey home. You couldn’t recall the scientists ever talking about anything other than your powers, or that something different should have happened other than when you woke up and that was about the super soldier part. They actually seemed rather pleased with their ‘results’ so if anything else was supposed to happen, they really didn’t let on.

When you got back you immediately turned up the heating, your apartment was freezing, probably because no one had been in for such a long time. You went out and knocked on Bucky’s door to let him know that you were back. He opened the door slowly, revealing his tired face. He took one look at you and smiled instantly, almost as if all of his fatigue lifted the second your presence was known.

“[Y/N], you’re back!” Bucky pulled you into an embrace as if he hadn’t seen you just a few hours ago. “What did Steve want with you?”

You knew Steve didn’t want you to tell Bucky what he told you, you instantly had a sour taste in your mouth when you decided to lie to him, but it was for the best, for now. “He wanted to get them to run tests on me, just in case some weird serum stuff was still in me, and he told me about some of the side effects of the serum he got in case I got them, too.”

“Oh, okay then. I thought it was something really bad. I’m glad you’re okay.” He smiled at you once more before taking you into his apartment.

You sat on his sofa, his place was a bit of a mess which wasn’t normal for Bucky. He tried to keep it as tidy as possible, maybe he was just more focused on finding you.

“Sorry it’s a bit of a mess,” he said as if he’d been able to read your mind. “I haven’t been in the right frame of mind since they kidnapped you.” Bucky handed you a glass full of wine before sitting down next to you and taking a sip from his own glass.

“How long was I really gone for? Everyone’s been giving me really vague answers.” You asked, drinking some of your wine then placing the glass down gently on the table.

“I think it was the middle of the July when they took you, the 16th? It’s September 22nd now.” He said carefully.

“Oh. That’s more than 2 months.” You knew you were gone for a while so you weren’t sure why it came as such a shock to you. “Didn’t seem as long as that.”

“Were you having fun there or something?” Bucky turned his whole body toward you, intrigued by your answer.

“I would say I loved it,” you started, “but it wasn’t entirely awful. I can understand why you’d hate it, but they didn’t do anything extremely bad to me. If they brainwashed me or tortured me like they did to you then, yeah, it’d be horrific. But they actually taught me how to fight and useful things like that.”

Bucky thought for a moment, almost confused at what you just said, as if he couldn’t comprehend it. “They didn’t do anything bad to you?”

“Nothing other than the serum, no.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Fairly certain. I’m fine, okay? You got me back, there’s no need to worry.” You smiled at him sympathetically, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

He looked up at you, blue eyes fixated to yours. “Okay,” Bucky said quietly. He leaned forward and kissed you gently.

You and Bucky chatted for a while more, about how they managed to find you by raking through every single S.H.I.E.L.D. file they possibly could, or how Natasha was so determined to find you that she would barely sleep. He still hadn’t told the guys that the two of you were dating yet, but he was thinking of a way to tell them. As if they hadn’t already guessed, but you let him marvel at his cute little ideas.

You ended up watching some reruns of Friends on the TV, cuddled up to Bucky on the sofa under a blanket.

“Did you want another glass of wine, [Y/N]?” you heard Bucky ask you, but you were half asleep, so you gave him an unintelligible grunt and snuggled deeper under his arm.

“I’ll take that as a no,” he giggled softly as he pulled up the blanket up to cover you completely. He pressed a kiss to your forehead before turning off the TV and settling in to fall asleep himself.

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