jesse writes words

She watched the sun dance across the sky
She watched the sky bloom into cotton candy colors
She watched the clouds melt as the sun kissed them goodnight
She watched until the last hues turned grey
Finally at peace, to be under the same sky as him.
—  Excerpt from a book I’ll never write, 53
Like the sun you warm others,
But burn yourself.
I watch them soak up your love
And breathe it in before running
And leaving you thankless.
I see your light dim hopefully
As the moon takes its turn in the sky
But even then your rays play their role.
So I write to you.
Write words of thanks
In the hopes that it’ll make you smile
And keep you a little bit warmer.

McHanzo Week 2016, day 6 - Ultimate Swap.

Hanzo had been searching for some time, before he found McCree slumped against a cargo container, looking worse for the wear. His hat was a foot away, revealing the nasty gash on the right side of his forehead, blood running down his face. His arms were in no better shape, the mechanical one was damaged, while the sleeve of his right arm was soaked with blood.

The archer knelt down, reaching forward to press his fingers against the cowboy’s throat. Before he could find a pulse, McCree’s hand mechanical hand came up, wrapping gently around his wrist. The damage seemed to lock his index and middle fingers into pointing forward. “Hey, babe,” he croaked.

McCree finally cracked his left eye open, smiling at Hanzo. “Y’lookin’ pretty fine, I gotta say.”

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Those who say that demons come out in the night
Know not of the deeds he commits in the day
The way he stumbles into bed
When the sun disappears below the horizon
Presses his skin against mine
My eyes flutter shut
Only when the darkness greets me
May I fail to see the blood on his hands
Convince myself that he has done no harm
Not him, never him
When all I know is his bright eyes and soft skin
The feel of his body against mine
Those who say that demons come out in the night
Know not of the monster he becomes in the day
Golden hair, shining armor
A flame of his own kind
Like the god he will never be
I worship him anyways
Say his name like a prayer
Offer myself as a sacrifice
It would be an honor to die at hands such as those
Crafted to be the finest of his kind
He is beautiful
But a monster, nevertheless.
—  I Loved Him in My Youth and Never Learned to Stop, j.g.

onemuseleft  asked:

Steve comes back from Avengers business one day to find that Tony, while still mentally himself, has been physically transformed into a teenager

Steve peeled his cowl back and ran a hand through his hair as he stepped out of the elevator, flicking droplets of water from his fingertips. He was soaked to the bone and shivering, and he’d have felt a little bad for dripping water on the floor if he wasn’t so miserable.

The Avengers had been called away by two incidents at once, and they’d been forced to split their team in two to deal with them. Steve had taken half of the team to the warf to deal with…some kind of giant, mutated lobster, while Jan and Tony had taken the rest to deal with what they’d been told was a  “magical disturbance” in Queens.

Jan was talking to a young man in the kitchen, already changed out of her uniform and stirring a cup of coffee idly, so they must have taken care of things on their end a little more easily than Steve’s team had.

The teenager had a cup of coffee as well, and he was shoveling sugar into it in a way that rivaled Tony’s coffee drinking habits. With the way he was sitting the kid had his back to Steve, but Steve didn’t think he recognized him. One of the Young Avengers, maybe? Steve had thought he’d met them all, but then, it was hard to keep up with who the teenagers added to their roster, and he’d made it a point to be hands-off about it, because he didn’t want them to feel like he was trying to meddle where he wasn’t wanted.

Jan saw him and winced sympathetically, and then waved him over. Immediately, the teenager tensed and turned.

Steve stared.

“…Tony?” There was no mistaking it. He looked to be about fifteen, wearing an overly-large sweatshirt on his tiny frame and a pair of jeans he must have borrowed from Jan, since there was no way any of his own clothes would fit him now. Tony was normally about Steve’s height, but now he hardly came up to Steve’s shoulder. His beard was gone as well, and he looked impossibly young without it.

Tony looked like he was ready to sink through the floor.

“You’re…young,” he said. “What happened?”

Tony shoveled another spoonful of sugar into his coffee in irritation. It had to be well on its way to coffee-flavored syrup by now.

“There was this,” another spoonful of sugar, “magician, and he hit me with some sort of spell, and now I’m too short to pilot the armor—Carol had to carry me home—and none of my clothes fit anymore, and I don’t even like coffee!”

His voice cracked on the last word, and Tony blushed furiously, looking absolutely mortified. Steve didn’t know what else to do, so he reached out for him. Tony accepted the hug gratefully, completely unconcerned Steve’s wet clothes. He fit neatly under Steve’s chin, and he leaned his forehead against Steve’s chest and sighed unhappily. He pressed a kiss to the top of Tony’s head.

Steve knew this was bothering Tony more than he was willing to let on. Steve knew first-hand what it was like to feel small.


“Tony, don’t take this the wrong way, but—”

“—you’re sleeping on the couch until this wears off,” Tony finished for him.

“It would be weird,” Steve said, glad they were on the same page.

“Yeah,” Tony agreed. “I hate magic.”

anonymous asked:

3490, stony, pregnancy! (hey, technically it's an AU)

Steve nearly took the door off its hinges as he barged into the exam room. He was lucky the nurse left to get Natasha’s chart a minute ago, because the woman was impossibly old and looked like she was one fright away from a heart attack. Natasha was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to be back here, but she was also pretty sure that the nurse didn’t actually explain anything to him when she called him, other than that Natasha was in the hospital.

Natasha pulled her knees in awkwardly, feeling ridiculous in the stupid little paper gown the nurse gave her. She’d been mostly willing to wear the thing when she’d first arrived at the hospital (when they hadn’t actually known what was wrong with her, just that she was feeling sick and wanted answers). Now she wished that she had put her pants back on. This was a conversation that definitely needed pants.

Too late now. She shifted nervously on the paper-covered examination table, cringing at how loud the crackling sounded as she moved. Steve was staring at her expectantly, and…right. This was, god, this was happening.

She looked at Steve and made a face like she was dying.

Steve frowned, suddenly looking…well, about as terrified as Natasha was feeling right now, but for totally the wrong reasons. Making pained expressions at her husband while she was in the hospital was probably going to give him gray hairs.

Natasha threw her hands up soothingly, quick to correct the misunderstanding before he could worry to much.

“I’m fine,” she said quickly, even though she didn’t feel very fine, but she was at the hospital and she had no pants, and Steve was bound to be jumping to the worst conclusions right now. He visibly sagged with relief and took the extra few steps over to the exam table. She wrapped her arms around his waist, and Steve settled his chin on top on her head, pressing a quick kiss into her hair.

“Then what?” he asked after a moment, and Natasha grasped at the back of his shirt lightly.

“Uh,” she said intelligently, because she hadn’t really wrapped her head around the idea yet, herself. “There may be…I’m going to have to step down from the Avengers. For a while.”

Steve was quiet for a moment. “How long?”

“Nine months?” she said hesitantly. Steve froze, and then slowly pushed her back to gape at her. 

From the look on his face, he was clearly trying not to freak her out, but there was something terribly hopeful in his expression, and he suddenly looked so damn excited that Natasha couldn’t help but want to smile, too.

Natasha made another face that was not at all attractive, and Steve chuckled this time. Clearly he didn’t understand how totally wrong this was going to go for this poor child, but he just looked so stupidly happy that she didn’t have the heart to remind him just yet, so she just leaned up and kissed him, and smiled as he kissed back.

Do Not Fear the Reaper (McReaper)

When Jesse McCree was 17 years old, he told Gabriel why he was afraid of dying when asked.

Tales from different individuals from the Deadlock Gang, when he was younger, had scared him shitless of the Reaper and he had been running away from it all his life.

Gabriel laughs.

“Wha-what’s so funny!?” Jesse blushes. From embarassment, and from admiration, for it was rare for him to see this man laugh.

When Gabriel’s laugh died down, there was a kind look on his face, “Jesse, do not fear the Reaper. They will only take you once it’s your time.”

And with those words coming from the man he adores, Jesse believed.


When Jesse McCree was 37 years old, he met with the Reaper. He aimed his Peacekeeper towards it with shaking hands.

“Jesse, do not fear the Reaper,” the familiar voice said, the object of his childhood fear held up it’s hand towards him.

Jesse’s gaze turned to the clawed hand and back to Reaper’s mask, “Is it my time?” He asks, reluctantly lowering his gun.

“Come with me,” the Reaper spoke.

Jesse took the hand and the darkness took over him…

The Captain’s Cabin, Part Five (read one and two and three and four here)(

“Fair, Liam?” He had asked. Well, Killian thought a little bitterly to himself, spat was a better word to describe the tone he’d taken with his brother. “What’s fair about pushing two people together when they were living perfectly happy the way things were?”

That was just it — he wasn’t perfectly happy with the way things were. He had managed something like it before, but there was no returning to the way his life had felt in the weeks before Emma Swan blew into town. She’d barely left twenty-four hours ago, and discontented loneliness had seemingly irrevocably taken her place, following him around the restaurant like the persistent morning fog that clung to the windows. 

He forced himself to find his way downstairs before the day grew too long — Saturdays were by far the slowest day of the week, but they were still open, and Will had yet to show up for work. It was getting impossible to tell which days he actually had off at this point, but Killian kept his mouth shut as he scrubbed his hands clean.

He only ever realized how much he missed a quiet kitchen when their newest hire was gone. The hiss of onions caramelizing, the sizzle of Liam’s catch of the day as it seared on the griddle, the hypnotizing rhythm of vegetables being chopped against a wooden cutting board — it all fell together with the sound of lapping waves that floated through the open bay window, the exact distraction he needed. Killian found it much easier to focus on cooking than on his own problems, especially ones he should have been able to forget by now.  Try as he might to focus on cutting perfectly bite-sized pieces of salmon in front of him, his mind kept trailing out the door, and he nearly cut himself for lack of attention.

He simply couldn’t convince himself that Emma was someone to forget.

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anonymous asked:

Steve/Tony Hogwarts AU :)

“I could do that,” Steve said, face turned toward the sun to watch the Quidditch skirmish going on above them. It was just a practice game between a few of the Griffindor and Slytherin players, not all that interesting, in Tony’s opinion, but Steve was always eager to watch a game.

Tony looked up just in time to see a player nearly knocked off her broom by a Bludger. She turned to glare at her team mate. Tony turned to raise an eyebrow at Steve.

“It looks fun,” Steve said determinedly, crossing his arms over his chest. "You should join with me.“

"We wouldn’t be on the same team,” Tony reminded him.

“I know,” Steve said, following the Quaffle with his eyes as it made its way across the pitch, “but don’t you think it would be fun to be a part of a team?”

Tony shrugged. He didn’t think it would be very much fun without Steve to keep him company, and he couldn’t imagine what actually playing the game would be like, with the Bludgers whizzing around trying to knock Steve off his broom.

“This is fun,” Tony said instead, gesturing at the pieces of tablet strewn across his lap and the grass in front of him. He’d made Steve promise to bring him one the last time he went home, and true to word he had. It was a little worn (and a couple models outdated, according to Steve) but that was probably for the best considering that it was now in about thirty pieces. Steve had mentioned that anything that ran on electricity didn’t work right when he brought them from home—something about the magic around Hogwarts making them malfunction—and Tony was determined to figure out why.

Right now, it just looked like a mess.

“That’s probably not going to work,” Steve said, gesturing to the tablet. "It’s okay… The magical stuff and the Muggle stuff don’t mix well, sometimes.“

Tony looked up at him, surprised, but Steve was looking away again, toward the match.

He probably shouldn’t read into that, but it was hard not to, with the carefully neutral expression on Steve’s face. Tony heard how people talked to him, sometimes, and while there were plenty of people who didn’t care where you came from, there were enough people in the world who had a problem with Muggle-born wizards and weren’t afraid to say it.

It made Tony’s blood boil.

"It’ll work,” Tony said, leaning his shoulder lightly against Steve’s, so he could just barely feel the heat of his arm through the robes. "We’ll make it work.”

anonymous asked:

If you're still taking prompts could you maybe do Steve/Tony as criminals?

“Tony,” Steve said sweetly. “Can we work a little faster, please?”

“You know what, Steve?” Tony said, sticking the last bit of C-4 in place. “How about next time, I get to guard the door, and you can blow the safe? And then you can complain about how quickly I’m moving. Back up,” he added, edging Steve around the door frame so he could press the detonator. The explosion was loud, but well controlled–Tony could calculate the amount of explosive he needed in his sleep–and they both paused, waiting.

A moment passed, but alarm stayed blessedly silent.

Tony grinned. “I told you hacking the alarm system would work,” he said.

“I never doubted you,” Steve said, grabbing two of the empty duffel bags they’d brought along and leading him inside. The door was still smoking, but the explosion had taken the lock right off. It was still warped in places, and Steve wrenched it free. He let it swing inward and let out a low whistle.

“That’s a lot of money,” Tony said, tossing his duffel bags down at his feet. Steve nodded.

“That’s our money,” Steve said.“Now, no trackers and no dye packs. Let’s get going.”

“Whatever you say,” Tony said, pausing to peck him lightly on the cheek before beginning to fill the bag.