A/N: This was a very difficult piece for me to write. Please keep in mind that I am no professional and, by any means, mean no offense to anybody with eating disorders. If any part of this imagine is offensive or taken personally, please message me.
If you are suffering through something this fatal, please contact help as soon as possible.
- masterlist linked in bio
It’s a funny concept for Y/n. Between every hour and every minute of the day, there lays a purpose. Every second counts, whether it determines the rest of your life or destroys what’s left of it. For those, time goes quickly or barely passes at all- has no beginning nor end.
It’s relied heavily on, because we all die one day or another, unexpectedly or anticipated, and if a second of time is wasted, it haunts us until our dying days.
Time is the one true consistency in everyone’s life.
When Y/n was younger, time meant everything. She counted the days till her birthday, counted down the seconds to the new year, and dated every special event she could think of. She believed that every second of her life mattered so greatly, that everything she had once known could change in a blink of an eye. Days were filled with bliss, anticipation for what the future held for her. Because she wasn’t getting any younger, and all she could think about how she was one second- a millisecond, even- away from her life giving her a new purpose.
It wasn’t until summer of 2012 when all of her greatest expectations were destroyed in a blink of an eye.
Y/n lost her father.
It happened so suddenly, an unexpected collision during the early hours of the morning. Y/n was home at the time, locked away in her room because she had an argument with him earlier on that night. Because the money situation was tight, it was impossible for Y/n to attend her top choice university. She insisted that she’d take out loans from the bank and pay every bit of tuition herself, but he refused.
She felt as if all her time and effort has been wasted. Of course, there were other schools, but Y/n was too stubborn and so set on attending this university that they didn’t matter half as much as the one she worked for.
She spewed out words she didn’t mean, anger and frustration boiling up inside of her. She had worked so hard for this moment- had worked so hard to make her parents and herself proud, but it all blew up in her face. She had never been so upset before, and it was the first time in a while she started to raise her voice and cry to try and get her way. She would have done anything, even if it meant insulting her father.
He pleaded for her to settle down, because no matter where she ended up, she’d always make him proud. But she wasn’t having it.
“I never want to talk to you again.”
Of course she didn’t mean it, but she just felt so betrayed. And because of how sensitive she was, she knew the grudge she was holding against him was going to last a while.
Already late for his meeting, he sighed and placed a delicate kiss on her forehead, the way he always did whenever they were in an argument. It was to show that he still loved her, that he’ll always love her, even when times seemed rough.
“I’m so sorry, love bug. We’ll discuss this with your mother once I get back from my meeting.“
It wasn’t until a couple hours later her mom called her.
She was sobbing, her words jumbled and breath so harsh Y/n could barely understand a word she was saying. All she managed to hear was “your father” and “car accident,” and it was all she needed to understand that her father hadn’t made it. He was never going to come back home.
Y/n spent the next couple of months trying to cope with his loss. She didn’t understand what it meant to lose somebody forever, she never experienced that kind of pain before. It was too much for her, living without her father and watching her mother slowly turn into a lifeless woman.
The only way to cope with all of the pain was to stop eating.
She didn’t know exactly how it helped, but it did. She saw it as a punishment against herself, for saying such horrible things to her father and having him believe she truly never wanted to speak to him again. She didn’t blame herself for his loss, but she carried a horrendous amount of guilt upon herself. So, she began to skip meals, which wasn’t hard because she could barely stomach the thought of food while she was as depressed as she was. And what started off as a coping mechanism turned into something much more fatal.
Now, time means nothing to her, filled with an empty void. Every minute is another minute of being alone- another minute closer to her end. She sits, stares at the wall clock hung perfectly in Ms. Carter’s office, and watches as it passes with every breath she takes.
“Y/n..” Ms. Carter mumbles, looking down at her watch to calculate just how much time has been wasted since their session began.
“Are you ever going to speak?” she questions with an exasperated sigh, long past her patience because all of their recent sessions have consisted of unanswered questions and the same dismal look displayed on Y/n’s face.
Y/n makes no effort to answer her. Her legs stay crossed indian-style in front of her, picking at a hangnail that’s been bothering her the past couple of days. She hasn’t moved since the appointment started, staying in the same position as Ms. Carter asked her questions Y/n was hardly paying attention to.
She’s well aware she’s wasting Ms. Carter’s time. She could be guiding other clients toward the help they need, or simply listening to someone’s troubles other than the horns honking outside and the agonizing sound of the clock ticking further toward the next hour.
Hell, she’s even convinced that she’d be wasting her own time, as well, if it weren’t for the emptiness in her heart. This is the only place Y/n has somebody. Everyone in her life left her, unable to deal with the constant struggle of her eating disorder. Her family, friends, boyfriends; all of them had left her. What was once an attempt to help Y/n recover from her disorder turned into a part time job for them; a constant occupation in their lives to deal with her.
If it was their choice, they probably would have left sooner than they did. But they all gave her pity, only remaining in her life because they felt another person leaving her would push her to the edge- would push her into something far more fatal. Some left without a word, others left with a rehearsed speech about how they didn’t want to see her suffer, that they couldn’t bare the sight of her bones sticking from her body. They couldn’t help her anymore, because they didn’t understand, and they barely have their own lives figured out, so how could they figure out hers? They finished their speeches with a sympathetic apology, saying that they’d still be there for her if she needed them. But they didn’t mean it. She knew they didn’t mean it.
A year and a half into her disorder, with nobody by her side, with not a soul left to help her recover, someone saved her.
When he started to get to know her- to listen to her story- he had never felt more remorse for somebody the way he had with her. Such a beautiful and sweet woman has been torturing herself for years all because of the amount of guilt she had at such a young age. He couldn’t begin to imagine what she’s been through, all the pain and hardship she’s endured throughout er life.
She was so lovely, as well, he fell in love with her the moment she started opening up to him. It was easy for the both of them, to talk to one another, simply because there was instant connection none of them could deny. They fit into each other’s lives perfectly, as if filling up the emptiness they both had.
Harry dedicated every part of his life to her, with not a single complaint hanging from his lips. He loved her in ways nobody else had loved her before. He showed it by staying with her, through all the horrible battles she faced. He was patient with her, putting up with her fight against food and reassuring her when she wanted to throw it all up. He was there every step toward her recovery and every step toward her relapses.
It took a long while for her to finally recover. She was eating again; she was healthy again. Her skin glowed with an olive undertone, hair so soft Harry found it irresistible not to touch. Her once twisted thoughts altered to an optimistic mindset. The once beautiful girl he once known developed into an ethereal woman, convinced he was going to spend the rest of his faithful life with her.
If it weren’t for Harry, she wouldn’t have recovered. When he came into her life, she made every promise to herself and to Harry that she would overcome this. She’d continue her battle for them, because she now had a reason to fight. Her love for Harry pushed her to be the woman she became. He changed her- he saved her.
But a year into her recovery, something changed between them.
Something changed in him.
She never felt his love like she used to. He was barley there for her. When he’d come home from work, he wouldn’t call out for her anymore. Even though they were together, she began to feel lonely again. Y/n was convinced he had stopped loving her. She stayed up countless nights, without him, wondering what she did wrong. He didn’t hold her anymore, not like he used to. Before, he’d always hold her, because his arms were her sanctuary and his chest was a bed made specially for her head. His lips only lingered on her cheek or forehead, not in the way they used to. Before, he’d always kiss her lips, because he said he swore his lips were compelled to love hers and said he was always hungry for her love. She fell asleep feeling empty, not in the way she had before. Before, amongst falling asleep, he’d be inside of her, hips colliding with hers because he praised her, and said he’d never love the way he loved her.
But it all ended so suddenly, there was no warning.
She began to feel what she felt with everyone else- neglected.
She felt it was because she recovered. When she was battling her disorder, he loved her because he felt he had to. She had nobody else. Her family had given up on her, her friends left her, and she was left with absolutely nothing. He came at a time she needed someone most. At that point, she was prepared to die, there was no helping it. He was her lifeline, her only dependency, and that’s why he had stopped loving her. He didn’t need to love her anymore.
“I- I don’t quite know what to say.” Y/n mumbles.
She wishes she could tell Ms. Carter everything about it. She wishes she could talk to her like she was supposed to; trust her and open up to her to help her with her recovery. But if she does, she knows Ms. Carter would have to take her to a rehabilitation center. And Y/n wanted absolutely nothing to do with that.
Ms. Carter nods, lips pursing as she places her notebook down of her wooden coffee table. She crosses her legs and arms, back moving to rest upon the black velvet seat she always sits in during her sessions.
“Then why do you come to me, Y/n?” she asks softly, watching as Y/n moves her eyes slowly to her. “If you don’t know what to say, why are you here?”
She shrugs, arms moving to hug her knees to her chest. She rests her chin gently on her knee cap, eyes trained on the window directly in front of her. She watches as cars move during the rush hour, people walking on the sidewalks with a premeditated destination. She envies those who thrive, for she lacks motivation to accomplish her ambitions.
“This is all I have.”
Ms. Carter blinks at her confession, interlocking her fingers together while nodding her head.
She knows Y/n has been different the past couple months. Normally, Y/n talks about her relationship with Harry, how he’s been her biggest step toward her recovery. She talked about how great she’d feel, but was, nonetheless, worried she’ll eventually relapse and disappoint him.
Ms. Carter has had suspicions that Y/n is going through another relapse. However, she knew that if she was, that Harry was by her side at home. It was one of the many reasons she hadn’t taken major actions to help her through it. She knew Harry would do her more help than her, but Y/n kept scheduling appointments that she couldn’t deny.
“And what about Harry?” She asks timidly, “Is he helping you through this time, Y/n?”
Y/n’s eyes flutter shut at his name. Her hands shake as her fingers pull down the sleeves of her sweatshirt, tugging them all the way so that her hands are completely covered by the material.
“Not anymore.” She whispers.
Y/n’s eyes divert to Ms. Carter’s cautious gaze. Her mouth is slightly parted, almost shocked at the confession she made. Ms. Carter knows the only thing that guided her was Harry. He was her rock and support through her entire fight, and with the possibility of his departure comes the possibility of Y/n going back to where it all began.
“Are you- are you still eating, Y/n?”
Her eyes go back to the window.
Another question left unanswered.
The weather outside is making Harry miserable. So miserable, in fact, he’s refused to move from his spot on the couch for the past four hours.
The house is dark for the mid-afternoon, the gloomy weather making it nearly feel like a funeral home. With no motivation to go outside and finding it oddly comfortable to wallow, he can’t help but to keep his eyes trained on the television show playing in front of him. It’s Y/n’s favorite show- one they watched nearly every Saturday afternoon because that’s when CW aired the marathon.
He still watches it every Saturday. A part of him can’t let the tradition go. He’s somehow convinced himself that maybe, just maybe, she couldn’t, either, and they are some how both watching it at the same time in two different places. Gemma tells him that she probably does the same, as well, but he should try to move on from her; that staying in the house and only doing things that remind him of her is going to edge him to insanity. But oddly, consuming his days with things that remind him of her keep him as sane as he can possibly be.
He sighs, clammy fingers tugging at the roots of his hair as he looks down at his phone for what must have been the twentieth time today. His thumb hovers over her contact number, twitching as he begins to contemplate whether to call her or not. It’s been months since he’s seen her, let alone talked to her. Every second without knowing how she’s doing kills him more and more each time.
To say Harry’s been worried is an understatement. He’s completely petrified.
For the past couple of years, Harry has been through it all with Y/n. He’s seen her at her worst, was there to witness her greatest and most disastrous downfalls and stood by her side during her most amazing recoveries. He’s seen her in all her forms of terrible glory, with bones sticking from her skin and bruises covering her arms and legs. He’s watched her as people began to leave her one by one- a bystander of a broken girl being neglected by her loved ones. He’s seen her fantasize about her end and watched as pain settled in her eyes.
And he just can’t shake the feeling that everything Y/n has built up to her recovery has been knocked down again.
He can’t stomach the thought of her looking the way she did when they first met. He doesn’t even want to think about what she’s been putting herself up against since his departure.
For the first month after their breakup, Harry had called Y/n everyday to make sure she was eating properly. He’d call her before bed, asking numerous questions about her diet and her therapy sessions. What did you eat today? How much did you eat? Was Ms. Carter nice? How are you feeling? It was a routine that was able to keep both of them sane during their separation.
It didn’t last long, however, when Y/n started to finally realize she wasn’t able to move on. Between the constant reminder that she didn’t have anybody there for her anymore and his constant phone calls, she found it impossible to move on from him.
Y/n also began to feel upset that Harry had broke things off with her but still had the audacity to call her. She understood what he was doing. She understood that he was showing her that he still cared and worried for her, but the fact that the only effort he had put into taking care of her was through a phone call made Y/n feel like a charity case.
“I just can’t do this anymore, Harry” she muttered softly to the phone, her fingers halfheartedly fiddling with the corner of the duvet, “You can’t keep calling me when we aren’t dating.”
His heart fell to the pit of his stomach. Calling her before bed was a routine to him now. Talking to her was able to keep him sane, because he was getting the reassurance he needed to know she was doing okay.
In all honesty, he didn’t know if he could go a day without talking to her. Without her updating him, he knows he’d spend every second of his day worrying about her health and how she’d be keeping up with herself.
The phone calls were also the bit of her he had left. If he were to stop calling her, all he’d have left is her empty side of the bed, and he needed more than that. He needed more of her.
“But you need to see that I still care for you, Y/n” he whispers brokenly, “that I’ll always be here to make sure you’re alright.”
“But how do you think that makes me feel?!”
Her voice was higher than usual, a tone she very rarely used with him because he never gave her a reason to be angry. But now, after him calling off their relationship but still having the audacity to call her made her sick to her stomach.
“If you still cared, if you still wanted me, you’d be with me right now! You’re not making any effort to care for me, Harry! Calling me doesn’t mean anything because you’re not here!”
He shut his eyes at her words, a pang of guilt hitting him like a ton of bricks. He would be there with her if he had a choice, but their relationship wasn’t working out in both of their favors. In the midst of her getting her life back and him settling in a new job, it was very hard for them to keep up with each other. It was especially hard for him to keep up with her because she seemed to be so content in her new life that he almost felt unwanted.
He still loved her, but he felt like she didn’t want him anymore. She had recovered because of him, and because she didn’t have to rely on him in the way he was used to, he felt useless in her life. And no matter how much he tried to convince himself that it wasn’t true, that she still wanted and needed him, it still broke him apart.
“You know our relationship wasn’t working out for us and-“
“No,” she cut him off, teeth clenching out of frustration, “our relationship wasn’t working out for you. You felt no need to love me anymore, so you left me just like everybody else.”
Harry’s jaw clenches as she speaks, head thrashing wildly side to side, because it’s not true. Everything she thinks, everything he’s made her come to believe isn’t true, and he wants nothing more than to try to make her understand that he’ll always be in love with her. That he’ll always be there for her because he can’t image a day without loving her the way she deserves.
“Y/n, baby, how could you say tha-“
“You need to stop calling me,” she cries, “you’re either a part of my life or you aren’t. There’s no middle ground for you to be in. That’s not fair to me. It’s either you care for me and love me or you don’t.”
Harry’s breath was harsh against the speaker, fists clenched together as he tries to wrap his head around the situation he’s put in.
The hesitation in his answer was enough for her heart to break. The silence between her words and his answer spoke louder than anything he could possibly say to her.
She couldn’t lie and say she wasn’t surprised this is how their story ended. Everyone has already gave up on her, it was only a certain amount of time before Harry realizes how easy a life would be without her. She just didn’t want to believe it.
“I get it, Harry” she whispers, sniffling as she runs her wrist along the tip of her nose. “Goodbye.“
He’s been doing this everyday, worrying and contemplating on what he should do. He wishes more than anything to be with her the way she deserved, and wishes even more that he had never left her in the first place. He knows calling her would make her angry because she’s made it clear she felt hurt every time she did so, but he also knows not calling her isn’t fair, either.
He understands how wrong it sounds to leave his anorexic girlfriend of three years, but he felt it was best for the both of them at the time. But now, after months of her out of his life with no other connections to hear from her, he realized how stupid he was to convince himself that.
He’s completely devastated without her.
Living without Y/n wasn’t living at all. The life he experienced with her was incomparable to the one he’s been experiencing without her. She’s the love of his life, she’s the woman who showed him what it truly meant to love and care for someone so much. Of course, being with her wasn’t the easiest thing in the world, but loving her was. That’s what made them so real. Their relationship was filled with struggles, messes, and tears, but they were still in love with each other regardless. It was their ability to fight together that pulled them through their most difficult times.
“Jesus, Y/n.” He whispers to himself, “I’m so sorry, baby.”
Harry’s thumb presses on the cancel button, letting out a shaky breath as he does so. He feels a tear slowly fall down his cheek, which he’s quick to wipe away with the back of his hand when he hears the front door swing open.
“Afternoon, H!” Gemma greets, hands filled with grocery bags as she stumbles through the front door.
“Bought us some sandwiches. Turkey chipotle sandwiches, to be exact. Figured we could just watch some shows today? The weather is a fucking disaster, it’s making me moody.”
Harry nods speechlessly, his fingers toying with his upper lip. His eyes divert to Gemma’s struggling figure for just a couple seconds before his attention is back on Y/n’s contact.
“Yeah, yeah sounds fine.” He mutters distractedly.
Gemma’s eyebrows furrow in concern over his melancholy tone, placing the grocery bags lazily on the kitchen counter before making her way toward Harry’s slumped figure.
She bites her lower lip at the look of her distraught brother, who’s clearly shown no improvement since his breakup with Y/n. She’s aware that he blames himself for their breakup and that he spends every waking hour of his day worrying about her. No matter how hard she tries to help him through this struggle in his life, there’s always a part of him that will always feel a sense of protection over her.
He’s a wreck, and no matter how many times he tries to deny it, there were numerous nights Gemma would find Harry staring at her contact during the earliest hours in the morning with helpless tears building in his eyes. She’d even hear him mutter apologies to himself, as if rehearsing a speech to say if he ever found the strength to call her.
Who could really blame him, though?
“You okay?” she asks timidly, already knowing his answer but still finding it in her heart to ask.
She would do anything for him- anything to help him. Hell, she’s tried everything. She’s tried to talk to him alone whenever she found him in his darkest hour, even made him cups of tea to help settle his brain. She bought him a journal, in hopes that writing down his feelings will help him recover in the slightest. She even scheduled him for an in-home therapy session, but every bit of her attempts never budged him. He was still the same mess of a man he has been since the day he left Y/n.
Harry looks up at her, nodding his head feverishly when he sees the concerned look on her face.
“Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” he coughs, looking back down at his phone, “Just haven’t checked up on her in a while. Kinda worried.“
Gemma raises her eyebrows at him, unconvinced.
“Kind of worried?” she questions, occupying the space on the couch next to him. Her hand reaches up to his forehead to wipe the beads of sweat off his forehead, which slowly moves to his back in attempt to relieve his tense muscles.
He lets out a breathy chuckle, his hand reaching to the back of his neck. He nods his head, lips pursing together as he tries to hold back the emotions he’s feeling.
“I feel like she stopped eating and it’s just- it’s just something I can’t stop thinking about, you know? I can’t live in peace when it’s all my head wanders off to.”
Gemma nods her head, her fingers squeezing the skin of his shoulder as a way to reassure that she’s here for him.
She feels awful about how much blame Harry’s been putting on himself the past couple of months. It’s beginning to take a major toll on him, he can barely include himself in day-to-day activities without getting lost in his thoughts. His once well-put-together form has seemed to turn effortless, not cared for in the way it once was. He’s become so disconnected,, she can’t deny the overwhelming concern she’s had for him for the past couple of months.
“I’m sure she’s okay, Harry. I’m sure she’s still checking in with Ms. Carter and working on herself. She’s a strong woman, you and I both know that. Strongest woman we’ve ever met. She’ll be okay.”
She leans over to press a chaste kiss to his cheek.
“And if she isn’t doing well, she would have called you by now.”
But Harry is having none of it. He knows that if she’s relapsing, she wouldn’t have called him. She wouldn’t have called anyone. He knows she feels like he doesn’t care about her anymore- feels like she’s the last thing on his mind. If she were to call him, she’d feel like she was a burden on his life, and that was the last thing she’d want. He knows that.
But if only she knew. If only she knew he can’t sleep at night because all he can think about is betraying the woman he loves, leaving her to fight by herself. Hell, if only she knew he can’t touch his phone without constantly going back to her contact trying to muster up the strength to call her and ask her how she’s doing.
“I was her reason to eat. If she stopped eating, it’s because of me.”
“No,” Gemma shakes her head, reaching her hands up to grab his face to ensure she was looking at him in the eyes, “You can’t put that much responsibility on yourself like that, she had plenty of reasons to recover. None of this would be your fault.”
He shakes his head, gripping the sides of his head as if trying to remain as calm as he possibly can. He wouldn’t be shocked if he lost all of his remaining sanity in his moment.
“I was literally all she had, Gem.” he spits, all the anger and frustration he’s held against himself now unleashing. All the contained emotions he’s been feeling, all the loathing he’s been trying to ignore, is all unraveling inside of him to the point where he feel like he can’t breathe.
“My existence, our future, that’s what she recovered for. Not a second of her recovery was for anybody or anything else.” He rants, breathing harsh as the thoughts rush through his brain. “She had nobody except for me. She didn’t have any friends, any family. She wasn’t fighting when I met her. She was waiting to die..”
“And I did what I promised her I wouldn’t do and…and now I-”
“You shouldn’t feel obligated to be with her, Harry.” Gemma blinks, shaking her head softly as she reaches to remove his hands from his head, “If you didn’t love her anymore, you didn’t have a choice.“
“But I do love her” he defends, shaking his head, “I’ve always loved her. We had to break up because our relationship wasn’t easy at that time, but hell, Gem, that doesn’t mean I ever stopped loving her.”
He sighs, rubbing his sweaty hands over his face.
Tears fall slowly down his face, soaking his cheeks as he inhales sharply. God, how much he fucking loves her, is what kills him the most.
“Me, helping her recover, of course that was a plus. I helped her get out of her anorexia, Gem. I never gave up on her, but I did once she recovered. That’s not fair, I still love her so much. I don’t know what to do anymore.”
Gemma frowns, slowly leaning toward him so that she can softly wrap her arms around his shoulders. She buries her cheek against his shoulder, thumb rubbing delicate circles on his back.
“I think you know what to do, H.”
Once Y/n’s appointment ended, she found herself curled up in her bed as the sounds of Harry’s mixtape played quietly throughout the room. It was a tape he made for her when they first started dating, something sentimental for her to hold onto whenever he wasn’t able to be there.
She’s been listening to it almost everyday since the breakup. She’d listen to it mindlessly, whether she was staring at wall or she was listening to it on her way to therapy. It was the only thing in her life that made her feel something; the pure value of it holding so much meaning. The music was the closest she’s been to Harry in a while, so it was her sanctuary.
She sighs, her fingers lightly grazing the window that drips with rain. In her loneliest hours, Y/n wants nothing more than to make her way over to him. She doesn’t quite know how she’s made it so long without him. In all honesty, she expected her to have given up and walk up to his door and beg him for his help. She knows she’s suffering, her body weak and starving the more she refuses to eat. But, to her, she has no reason to. Every bit of love she had for herself and every purpose she had to continue living has all dissolved into nothing.
She shakes her head, unwrapping herself from the blankets she raveled herself in before her bare feet made contact with the cold floor. She decides to go for a walk, or maybe just go out on her front porch to get some fresh air. She thinks it’ll be good for her, after all, she doesn’t have anything else to do besides stay cooped up in her four walls and listen to disgusting love songs.
The second she stood up from the bed, she nearly fell onto the floor. Her head spins and feels obnoxiously light when she begins to stand up properly. It wasn’t rare for her to feel lightheaded whenever she moved too quickly, however, this was the most intense it has been. Holding herself onto the wall, she waits until she feels back to her normal self before making her way down toward her living room.
Her fingers immediately press against her temples when she makes it to her foyer. Her head spins wildly with every step she takes, making her lose her balance once she reaches the last step. Her head hits against the floor, a groan leaving her chapped lips as her body begins to tremble. Her eyes cloud with darkness for a few moments at a time before she regains her consciousness, her sight fogged and lightheaded as she tries to pick herself up off the floor.
“No” she mumbles, coughing as she rushes to reach for her phone.
“No, no, no.”
This has happened to her before. It happened years ago, though, when she hasn’t consumed anything for weeks. The only difference is that she had someone there to save her before. Thankfully, her mom was there at the time and rushed to her rescue. When she made it to the hospital, they said she was near her end. If she had went a couple more hours without consumption, she wouldn’t have been able to make it.
But now, she has nobody.
Her breathing becomes harsh as her body keeps losing consciousness. There’s only a certain amount of time she has before she fades out entirely, and no matter how much she’s tried to convince herself that she’s been ready for this moment, she has never been more scared for her life.
Her shaking fingers reach for her phone in her back pocket. She has to do something and has to do it quick. If she dies like this, nobody would be out looking for her, nobody would find her body. She’d be stuck in this house as her body decays into nothing but bone.
She decides that this isn’t how she’s going to die, because if this is the day her end finally nears, she’d want to spend her last dying breaths with the one person she feels something for.
She whimpers, weak fingers punching in his phone number. Every part of her wants him to answer- needs him to answer, because he’s her last bit of hope and she doesn’t plan on leaving it all behind. But a part of her wouldn’t blame him for not answering. After all, she was the one who dropped him from her life completely, which was, quite honestly, the stupidest thing she’s ever done in her life. She practically pushed him away entirely, even when he was still there for her. Even when he still held onto her and cared for her like nobody else has.
And she can’t die knowing that.
Y/n swears hearing his voice is everything she needs in this moment.
Seeing her name light up on his phone makes Harry spring out of bed, his hands gripping the phone closer to his ear, as if trying to get closer to her. It’s been too long since he’s talked to her, and he’s convinced he can’t allow himself to waste another minute without hearing her voice again.
But no matter how much he wishes she was calling because she missed him, too, he just can’t seem to shake the feeling that the only reason she called is because she’s in trouble.
“Harry” she heaves groggily.
Her eyes are clouded, the room spinning around her. She can barely move, only the ghostly movements of her lips and the subtle rise and fall of her chest. She’s lightheaded, feeling cold and utterly weightless as her body lays faint on the carpeted floor beneath her.
“Y/n” Harry breathes out, slightly confused and partially in awe at the sound of her voice, “are you okay? I was gonna come by later. Been worried about you.”
“I keep fading out” she whimpers, her eyes closing longly each passing second, “I’m gonna die.”
Harry’s face pales the second he hears the struggling in her voice.
Nothing could have prepared him for this moment. It’s as if the world has stopped revolving around him, his only concern being Y/n and her safety. With her shaking voice filled with fear; it feels as if every one of Harry’s greatest fears are all coming to haunt him all at once. Y/n’s in a great amount of danger, all because of him, and he might not be able to save her in time.
In a matter of a second, working so quickly Harry doesn’t seem to fully keep up with his actions, he’s stumbling down his stairs and at his front door, holding his car keys shakingly in his hands. He doesn’t even bother putting on a pair of shoes or a jacket before he’s rushing toward his car.
“Y/n…Y/n, you have listen to me very carefully.” he pants, slightly tripping over his own two feet before regaining balance. “You have to hang up the phone and dial the police before i-”
“I- I can’t, Harry” she chokes out, interrupting him because she doesn’t know how much longer she can make it. “I’m so weak. I can’t move.”
Harry’s moving wildly once he sits down in the car. His hands are shaking so harshly it takes him a couple seconds to push the keys in the ignition, causing frantic mumbles of c’mon, c’mon, c’mon to leave his quivering lips.
“Fucking shit!” he spits, putting the car in reverse and stepping on the pedal so hard he’s convinced his car will be wrecked by the time he gets to her. But he doesn’t care, not at all.
He puts his car in drive and swerves onto the road, breaking the speed limit by an extra 30 miles an hour. His teeth clench together as his hand wraps tightly around the stirring wheel, causing his knuckles to turn white as he steps down on the pedal harder.
No matter what speed he goes, he has this inevitable fear that he isn’t going to make it to her on time. He feels he has no time- that she has no time- and no matter how badly he wishes he can stay talking to her to ensure that she’ll be okay by the time he reaches her, he knows it isn’t her safest option. He has to risk it, he doesn’t have much of a choice.
“You gotta give me two minutes, love. I’m putting you on hold for two minutes so that I can send someone over to you. Do not hang up on me, you hear me? You stay with me. Gimme two minutes.”
He doesn’t give her any time to reply before he puts her on hold. His fingers are rapid as he calls the police, the fingers that are gripping onto the steering wheel tapping along the leather as he waits for the operator to answer.
“My girlfriend, please,” he rushes out before the woman can finish, “she’s home alone and she keeps fading in and out of consciousness. I need you to bring someone over to her house please.”
He doesn’t notice how fast he’s speaking until the operator begins to ask him to calm down and repeat himself.
“Do you know any information in regards to her unconsciousness?”
“Yes,” he swallows thickly, “she’s anorexic.”
“What’s the address, sir?”
“168 Williamson Drive.”
“The police are on their way.”
He hangs up with the operator before switching back to Y/n’s contact.
“Y/n, baby, you still there?”
Her body jolts when she hears his voice from the speaker, breath hitching in her throat as she grips onto her phone tighter. She swears, if it isn’t for Harry being on the other line, she would have given up by now. Knowing he’s coming back to her keeps her fighting against her body, which is on the brink of blacking out for God knows how long.
“How much-“ she whimpers as she speaks, eyes slowly closing, “how much longer?”
His eyes wander wildly to the roads ahead of him. He isn’t far from her now, just a couple more turns until he’s in her neighborhood. Working quickly, his foot absentmindedly presses harder against the gas pedal, switching lanes to avoid the cars that are getting in his way.
“Shit, baby, you gotta give me five more minutes. I just need a bit more time and I’ll be there with you.”
The five minutes feels like forever.
Between Y/n’s soft crying and Harry’s continuously worried questions, Y/n had already fallen out of consciousness three times. She isn’t positive on how she is able to wake up each time, but she is. Every time she wakes up, Harry is calling her name desperately through the phone, reassuring her that he was going to be there as soon as he possibly can and help make sure she stays safe. However, Y/n is almost completely positive she is going to die. She had put her body through so much for far too long, she doesn’t know how many times her body can keep recovering just to relapse again. Her health was constantly fluctuating between the most drastic lows and highs, there is no possible way it has any more strength to push her through this last fight. There is just no way.
Harry doesn’t have time to turn off his car before he’s rushing toward her front door. His sweating hands slip off the doorknob on his first attempt to open her door, but is quick to rebuttal when he storms inside her house. It’s dark, only a small amount of light illuminating the foyer as his eyes wildly search for her.
She’s collapsed onto the floor. Her skin as pale as he’s ever seen it, her fragile body shivering and shaking against the hardwood floor. Her body looks broken, in a way. It looks lifeless as she helplessly tries to muster any atom in her body to keep fighting for her survival. Her loose clothes didn’t hide how weak her body has become within the past couple of months. There’s still a drastic, evident change in her body frame since he’s last seen her. And if he has to be honest, it makes him feel sick to his stomach, to see the love of his life like this.
And the only thing he can think about is how this is all his fault. He caused all of this, not any of this would be happening if he hadn’t left her the way he did. Instead, they could be getting married, living in their dream home together, cooking on the kitchen stove and listening to their favorite music together. They could be happy together.
But everything is because of him. There is nobody else to blame besides him and his selfishness. He left her, alone, in her most disastrous condition and nothing about what he did is okay, not when she’s like this.
“Baby” he cries, falling to his knees beside her.
He begins to sob as he lifts her up from the floor. He cradles her against him, her head laying perfectly on his chest as his arms wrap security around her waist. He nuzzles his face into her hair, his strong cries raking through him as he holds her tighter against him.
She feels cold, much different than her usual warm touch. She feels so light, too, and so weak as he grabs onto her like she’s his life line.
It’s been too long- way too long since he’s held her so close. It feels as if this is the first time he’s finally able to breathe, to not feel so suffocated in his heartbreak over losing the love of his life. He’s with her now, and maybe not in the best way possible, but he’s with her and it’s the biggest step to help them overcome this. Together.
Her fingers brush against his neck, her cheek rubbing against his chest as she whimpers against him.
Her head spins and her eyes fog as he holds her to him, making it nearly impossible for her to keep up with her consciousness. All she can think is how good it feels, to be with him in her weakest moment. She feels the most alive, even in her time closest to death, being wrapped in his arms and being peppered by his kisses. She feels the safest she’s ever been, and in this moment, for the first time in a while, she truly feels like everything is going to be okay.
“Don’t leave me, please” she whispers, “please don’t leave again.”
His heart breaks when he feels her tears soak through his t-shirt as the words she speaks crack in her voice.
He’d never leave her, never in his wildest dreams would he think about leaving her again. He can’t live another day without her, and he’ll stop at nothing to make sure she gets the ending she deserves.
“Oh, my love” he whimpers, placing a delicate kiss upon her forehead, “I’m so sorry, my love. Help is on its way, okay? You’re with me now, you’re safe. I’ve got you.“
He leans down to kiss her shaking lips, running his hands through her hair as he lets out another broken sob.
In four years with the Wellies, Jack had never had a nickname stick.
(It was two years before anyone even tried giving him one, because somehow the boys read ‘crippling anxiety’ as ‘completely boring’ and never bothered. Then a small blond with a penchant for pet names and pies came in with a Mr. Zimmermann and, like all other aspects of his life, everything changed.)
His first season with the Falconers is much the same.
Tater calls him Zimmboni for about two weeks before Thirdy drunkenly announces the name is ‘no good.’ “Jacky-boy doesn’t clean up the ice,” he tells the faces that haven’t asked. “He wrecks it.” They cheer and they drink and the subject is, Jack hopes, dropped.
They try Zimmy next, and Zimms, and then just Zimmer; each lasts a game or two before the awkward shuffling in the locker room as whichever teammate (not friends, not yet, but at least he goes out with them once or twice when asked now) stutters out how it’s not right. It just doesn’t fit. “Sorry man,” Marty pats his shoulder. “You’re just a hard dude to nickname.”
Jack tries to smile but isn’t sure he succeeds. “So I’ve been told,” he manages dryly, but really he just wants to go - not home. His apartment, sure. To bed, yeah. But he hasn’t once called or even thought of his place in Providence as home.
Instead he goes out with the team to celebrate the win, half because his parents and his therapist have been urging him to start setting down a root or two and half because an earlier text said that Bitty was going to a movie with the Frogs and wouldn’t be home until later.
Maybe it’s because that’s already the direction his mind was taking, but he gets to the bar and can’t help thinking about Bitty. Maybe it’s because that’s already the direction his mind was taking - or maybe it’s the song blasting over the speakers that he can’t help but recognize. “Beyoncé,” he says mostly to himself, because it’s a lesson that he’s had drilled into his brain over the years.
Snowy laughs when he overhears. “Of fucking course,” and he slaps Tater’s arm to get his attention. “Of course this Canadian motherfucker doesn’t get a single fucking one of our references, but fucking recognizes Beyoncé in under ten seconds.”
Tater laughs his sweet, infectious laugh and slings an arm across Jack’s shoulders. “Of course he know,” and the sentence trails off into a rather enthusiastic, if off-key, rendition of the chorus. “Everyone know Beyoncé, even Jacky Z.”
The table shakes from the force of Guy pounding his fist onto it; it startles Tater and Jack, and gets the attention of the other players (and the surrounding tables). “Holy mother of hockey,” and Guy turns his too sharp, too serious gaze on Jack. “Jack Zimmermann.” When blank stares and a few confused nods are all the words earn him, the knuckles around his glass go white. “Jack Zimmermann,” he tells them again, voice gruff. “J.Z.”
There’s a stunned, almost reverent silence around the table as six of the seven men accept the words like a sudden lightening bolt of truth, and the seventh wishes desperately that he had never come tonight. “Jay-Z,” they whisper among themselves, and Jack knows without knowing how that this will be the one that sticks.
Later, when he’s laying in bed in the apartment that still isn’t home, Jack rubs the back of his neck and admits over Skype “So they gave me a nickname today.”
Bittle is, predictably, thrilled for him. “Honey, that’s great news! I’m so proud of you for getting out with the team mor-”
“It’s my initials.”
There’s a moment where Jack watches his face fall and knows that Bitty is concerned that maybe the initials is a sign he’s not being welcomed, followed by a moment where his eyebrows shoot up in surprise as he says the letters to himself. The resulting pause is broken by a stuttering start-stop of Bitty’s mouth opening and closing wordlessly, and finally a cut-off shriek. “Oh my - I never - all this time and - I can’t believe I - of course - oh my-” He gropes weakly at the screen of his laptop, voice gone progressively squeakier. “Jay-Z.”
For a moment the under-decorated bedroom feels a little bit more comfortable, a little bit more like a place he could be happy, and Jack laughs. “I think I’m a little bit ashamed for you that someone else realized first.”
“Don’t you chirp me over this,” his glare is rendered ineffective by the way his face splits into a beaming smile. “I just found out I’m dating Jay-Z.”
Jack hums a few bars of a familiar tune. “Hey, Ms. Carter.”
A/N: Okay, so I wrote this loosely based on this post that @imagine-assembling-the-avengers reblogged a little over a month ago because I couldn’t help myself. I think it may have gotten a little out of hand, but I’m p happy with the way it’s turned out! I just hope you guys feel the same way lmao
Word Count: 5185
Warnings: Slight angst?
“Yes?” The woman lying on the hospital bed manages to rasp out. Her breathing is labored and she’s fighting to keep her eyes open. “Who…” She trails off, trying to catch her breath. “Who are you?”
“You don’t know me, but I know how to help you.”
She lets out a hoarse laugh. “How could you help me? I’m dying, dear. There’s nothing to be done.”
“There’s always something to be done.” I shake my head and step towards her. “I have… well, I have powers. I can restore you to the way you were in the forties; young, spry and healthy.”
“How is it that you have these powers?” She asks, wary of the newly presented information.
“I’m an Inhuman, Ms. Carter. When Terrigen mists were released in my city, I was lucky enough to have the necessary alien genes to form a chrysalis and develop powers. Now,” I place my hands on my hips. “Do you want my help or not?”
“Why do you want to help me?”
“Because your idiot godson and too-pretty-for-his-own-good ex are about to do something so stupid that it’ll destroy the balance between supers and civilians as we know it.”
Her eyes widen. “And how do you happen to know this?”
“Not illegally, I can promise you that. I just happen to have Inhuman informants on the inside.”
“Alright… but how do you expect to explain my sudden, miraculous transformation to the hospital staff?”
“Oh, the hospital won’t know. They’ll think you’ve died.”
“And how do you expect to pull that off?”
“Tetrodotoxin B, Ms. Carter. It slows the heart rate to one beat per minute. Dr. Banner is quite brilliant, regardless of whether or not his inventions work the way he intended them.”
“So, I’ll be dead, will I?”
“And when I wake, I’ll be young again. Is that what you’re telling me?”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
She’s silent for a moment, staring at something directly in front of her. She purses her lips and turns back to me “Do it.”
“Cool,” I smirk and produce a syringe of the tetrodotoxin b and take a step closer to the woman on the bed. “I suggest you get comfortable. You’re gonna be out for a while.”
“Ms. Carter,” I snap my fingers in front of her face in an attempt to rouse her. “Rise and shine, sleeping beauty.”
Her eyelids flutter momentarily before her eyes snap open and she sits bolt upright, eyes wide. She looks at me in confusion then down at her hands and, if it’s even possible, her eyes widen further. “This isn’t a dream, is it?”
“Thought you might ask that,” I hand her a mirror and grab my coffee from the table next to her bed. “So I brought backup.”
“How can you do this?” She asks, tearing her eyes away from her reflection. “I realize you have powers, but how can you use them without draining yourself?”
I shrug. “I just have to make sure I take in enough calories before I do anything. Either that, or I drain something or someone else”
“Someone?” She asks, lifting one perfectly shaped eyebrow. She’s trying her hardest to keep her cool, but the mask is slipping.
I shrug again. “If I have to, yes.” I finish with my coffee and crush the slightly soggy paper cup in my hand. “It’s not ideal but, y'know, desperate times and all.”
She nods her understanding and casts her eyes around the room. “Where are we?”
“Motel about half an hour’s drive from the Avengers facility in upstate New York. We have to get to there before dark.”
“You told me Steve and Tony were about to do something only I could stop. What exactly am I stopping?”
“Tony and a number of the other Avengers are about to sign the Sokovia accords. The accords were drawn up in order to move the power over those with powers to the government. Anyone with powers who doesn’t sign, meaning mutants, Inhumans and any other sort of enhanced person, will immediately be marked a criminal and they will be pursued and captured. If they are coerced to sign, they’ll be assigned to a team and all will be fine and dandy.”
“And if they refuse?”
“They’ll be put in prison. Specifically the kind that’s submerged in the middle of the ocean somewhere. They call them rafts. I like to call them hell.”
“Tony wouldn’t dare. “
“I think you’ll find that he would.” I snort. “He’s done a lot of things that he’s not proud of and he’s made some things that he lost control of. He thinks that if there’s someone to keep them in control, then he can prevent any potential future disasters.”
“Steve disagrees, obviously.”
She smiles, likes she’s remembering something. “He never really did like having someone tell him what to do.”
“It’s more than that though. The accords affect everyone. Any powered person who doesn’t sign is a criminal. If someone’s in hiding and has to expose themselves to help an innocent in the street, no matter how pure their intentions, will be put away if they don’t sign.”
“How am I supposed to straighten them out? I’m not an unstoppable force.”
“You’re the only thing left they don’t want to lose. Steve’s probably already gotten an alert letting him know you’ve passed. We have to get to the compound before something drastic happens.”
“Alright then,” She swings her legs over the side of the bed and pushes herself up. “What are we waiting for?”
“For you to change out of your grandma gown.” I rise from my seat and grab the clothing I bought for her and throw the wadded up items at her. “You look ridiculous.”
She readily catches the clothing and looks down at the nightgown she’s currently wearing before laughing. “I suppose the nightgown does age me. Where is the restroom?”
“Just down the hall there,” I point in the general direction. “I’ll pack up and start the car.”
She nods and walks off to the bathroom to change. I shove all of the clothing that’s laying around into the duffel that I brought, leaving a pair of shoes and socks out for Peggy to put on when she returns from the bathroom. Other than the possessions that I brought with, I grab the notepad and ballpoint pen from the table closest to the door and scribble down the phone number of my informant and a message that I’ll have Peggy send on either we’re on our way to the compound. After finishing with the message I take both the notepad and pen, but leave behind the key card on the table.
I fling the duffel in the back of the car and slam the door before dropping heavily into the driver’s seat and loudly closing the door.
It’s about ten minutes before Peggy slides into the passenger seat. I start the engine and, as soon I as she’s buckled her seatbelt, I tear out of the parking lot.
We ride in silence until Ms. Carter can’t stand it any longer. She shifts in her seat and angles her body towards mine. I feel her gaze weighing on me like a ton of bricks.
“Spit it out before I hit you.”
“What exactly is it that you can do?”
“In what context, Ms. Carter.”
“Your powers.” She says. “What are the extend of your powers?”
“Oh. Well, I manipulate stored energy. I can drain energy from people, plants, animals, you name it. I can also give that power back. If I have to, I can weaponize it, but I prefer to keep my talents in the infirmary.”
“Is that how you met your informant?”
“More or less yes. He and I worked at the Avengers facility together. He’s a weapons technician and I worked in the infirmary. More often than not, he would get injured trying to help Stark with his tech and I’d have to patch him up.” I concentrate on the road signs my eyebrows furrowing. “I got pretty well acquainted with most of the Avengers, if I’m being honest. After they found out about my powers they would occasionally come see me for a little energy boost before missions. Not all of them will be happy to see me, so please don’t be offended if I use you like a human shield.”
“Why wouldn’t they be happy to see you?” She asks, narrowing her eyes at me.
“Let’s just say I couldn’t be exactly what they wanted.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I sigh, my grip tightening around the steering wheel. “During the Ultron incident the team picked up a couple of kids. They went to Sokovia and only one of the kids came back alive. They wanted me to bring him back, but I couldn’t. His brain had been without oxygen for too long and I couldn’t do anything to help.” I wipe a frustrated tear away with my thumb. “No one was too happy to have me around at that point, so I left. I kept in touch with my informant and, from what he tells me, at least a few of them think I’m a deserter.”
“That hardly seems appropriate.” She turns her body back to the front of the car and focuses her eyes on the road.
“Yeah, well I left when things got hard. Their words hold some truth. Can’t really be upset when I’m the one who gave up and ran away.” I flip open the compartment between the two front seats and fish out the note I had written earlier and the cell phone and toss them into her lap. “The past doesn’t matter. The present does though, so text that message to the number on the paper.”
I stop the car in a secluded area a ways away from the facility. It looks almost exactly the way it did the day I left.
“So this is the Avengers facility?”
“It’s not as large as I would have expected Tony to have built it.”
“There’s more to it than what you see right here.” I unbuckle my seatbelt and pull myself out of the car. Peggy follows and joins me on my side of the car. “There are a bunch of buildings that you can’t see from here and there’s a large portion of the facility that’s underground.” I point to a small building a few yards away. “That’s how we’re getting in. We just have to wait for my friend to open the door.”
“And when is that supposed to happen?”
“Just give the man a second. He does work in one of the most heavily fortified facilities in the world.”
“What is that building anyway? It’s so small, I can’t imagine it having much more use than a small shed.”
“It’s the underground entrance. Most people who live outside of the facility use it to come and go, especially those of us who work, or rather worked on the lower levels of the facility.”
The doors slide open, revealing my friend who stands there staring in our general direction. I lock the car and gesture to Ms. Carter to follow me. She sticks close, understanding the risk of sneaking into the compound.
“It’s about damn time you got here.” He says as soon as we’re in earshot. “You were supposed to be here an hour ago.”
I roll my eyes and sigh. “Shut up and give me a hug you asshole.” He laughs and pulls me into a brief but tight hug. “We works have been here sooner, but restoring her drained me more than I expected it to.”
He nods and looks over my shoulder to Ms. Carter. “It’s an honor to meet you ma’am. We’ve all heard great things.”
“It’s good to meet you too.” She nods respectfully. “I have no idea what your names are though.”
“You didn’t tell her our names?!”
“It never came up!”
“You’re hopeless.” He sighs in resignation. “I’m Jared and they’re (Y/N).”
“Alright,” Peggy nods once again.
“Okay, we should head inside before we get caught out here. I’d rather go to them than have them come to us.” I suggest stepping aside to allow Peggy to go through the door before me. Jared nods and we follow him down three flights of stairs and into his small office at the very end of the corridor.
As soon as the door is closed I open an application on my phone and activate it before nodding to Jared. He nods back and nod grabs a spare uniform that he managed to smuggle out of the laundry from behind his desk.
“How long do we have until they know something’s up?” He asks.
“Maybe fifteen minutes, twenty if we’re lucky.” I answer taking one of the uniforms from him and immediately beginning to change into it. “Stark, we should start worrying around ten.”
“Alright then, here’s the plan; Stark and Rogers aren’t exactly talking to each other right now. Last I heard, Rogers was mourning the loss of Ms. Carter here. You walk past a few security cameras, freak out the security staff enough that they call Stark in to check, he alerts the rest of the team and you wait for them to come to you.”
“Cool,” I zip the front of the uniform and stuff the cap on my head. “Anyone I should be particularly worried about?”
“Romanoff and Barton always seemed to like you, so they probably won’t be a huge problem. The Vision is just…”
“Vision?” I offer.
Jared snorts. “Let’s say he’s learning. You see the news a couple days ago?” I nod. “Wanda’s in a bad spot, she may not even show up.”
“Might be for the best. I got weird energy readings off of her when she realized I couldn’t bring her brother back.” I nod. “Anyone else I should be wary of aside from the fearless leaders?”
“Rhodes and Wilson joined up, so you might want to watch out for them.”
“Why is it that you’re warning them but not me?” Peggy asks.
“Because you’re the person who started all of this.” Jared says, gesturing to the facility in general. “Who would dare hurt you?
“Listen,” I cut her off “I’m the one who pissed everyone off. Anyone who’s still upset with me is more likely to just punch me and then ask questions. If they don’t recognize you, they still won’t initially hurt a civilian. You’re fine.”
“If you insist.”
“She’s right, Ms. Carter.” Jared glances at the clock. “You two better get going if you want to get this done.”
I nod. “Alright, let’s go.”
We bid Jared farewell and head back out into the facility. I take her down past the gym where the Captain worked out when he wanted to be alone and check the window to the main door. Sure enough, he’s in there, pounding away at a bag near the doors. I slip away before he can see me and nod to Peggy. She nods back and takes her place in front of the door.
Taking a knee, I press the palms of my hands flat against the concrete floor. I close my eyes and focus on the Captain’s energy signature. When I’m sure that I’ve locked onto his unique energy, I send a jolt through the floor and into his body in hopes of it startling him enough to get him to look around and see his lost love standing at the door.
At the sound of Ms. Carter’s soft gasp, I grab her wrist and haul her down the corridor, whipping the both of us around a corner and pressing us against the wall. We hear the doors slam open and the slapping of feet against concrete as Steve thunders out of the gym. As soon as we hear his footsteps retreat we move on to our next point.
We quickly make our way to the hangar. There are rows upon rows of quinjets in various states of disrepair. Several technicians shout a greeting and I wave back, grinning at their reactions when they realize who we are.
I glance over my shoulder to see who’s trying to get my attention. When I see someone jogging to catch up with us I stop Ms. Carter and turn around to wait. I squint at them, trying to figure out who they are and it takes a while for it to click.
“Freddy?” I call, “Is that you?”
He laughs as he comes to a stop in front of me. “The one and only.”
“You’ve put on some weight, man.” I comment, pulling him into a hug. “It’s a good look for you.”
He laughs again, slapping me heartily on my back before releasing me from the hug. “I’ll have you know it’s all muscle!”
I snort in amusement. “Yeah, whatever you say, Fred.” He grins at me and I laugh at his response. “How’re the wife and kids?”
“Still just as tickled as ever that I have a job.” He answers. Peggy catches his attention and I immediately see the rebellious sparkle glint in his eyes. “So you’re really doing it, huh? Restoring balance to the Avengers?”
“We’re sure as hell gonna try.”
“Well good on you,” He leans in slightly and lowers his voice. “Though I’m glad I’m not the one who has to be there when the shit hits the fan.”
“I would never ask that of you. You have a family to protect. I don’t want to mess that up for you.” A loud siren cuts through the air and I sigh loudly. “That’s our cue, Ms. Carter.”
“It was lovely to meet you, Fred.” Peggy says, nodding to the stout man in front of us.
“Same to you, ma’am.” He grins at the two of us and squeezes my arm in a silent wish of good luck.
I clap him on the shoulder and lead Peggy towards the exit on the other side of the hangar. Before we leave the massive room I take off the cap that I’m wearing and discard it, making it easier to recognize me.
I hold the door for Ms. Carter and follow after her as soon as she’s through the doorway, the door banging shut behind us.
“There they are!” Someone yells to our right. Upon further investigation I find a horde of facility security officers not too far off.
“Oh, this is getting good,” I say, shooting a manic grin at Peggy before grabbing her by the hand and rushing off in the direction opposite the security officers.
Without so much as a shout of complaint, Peggy races after me, managing to stick close to me as we wave through the maze-like halls of the facility.
As soon as we burst through the doors that lead to another open field on the other side of the compound we’re met by both Stark and Rhodes, their repulsors trained on the both of us. By the shouts coming from behind us I would hazard a guess that the security guards followed us out and, with any luck, the good captain himself.
“Was this part of the plan?” Ms. Carter hisses.
“Completely.” I answer. “Just stay very still.”
“Y know, I was really hoping we’d never see you again, (Y/N).” Stark’s voice scratches out of his suit.
“Believe me, if I could have avoided coming back, I would have.”
“Care to explain why you’re back then? And on top of that, why did you drag this innocent woman into your petty liitle fight with us?”
“Are you really such an incredible dumbass that you’ve already forgotten what your godmother looks like, Stark?” I question.
Tony snorts in derision. “Peggy Carter is dead. You really expect anyone to believe that you brought her back after claiming you couldn’t bring Maximoff back?”
“He had been without oxygen for too long. If I had even tried he would have been brain dead and that would have been a fate worse than death. I did everyone a favor. The fact that you still can’t see that just cements the fact that leaving this team was the best decision I ever made. However, I didn’t come here to dig up the past, I came to get you idiots the scolding of a lifetime.” I run a hand through my hair and square my shoulders defiantly. “Three days ago I paid Ms. Carter a visit in her hospital room. I offered her the chance to have her youth back and she accepted. Using one of Banner’s little inventions, I helped her fake her death and restored her.”
“You're… you’re really not lying about this, are you?” Steve’s voice sounds from behind me. I sigh loudly and turn around to face the man.
“I’ve caused you all enough pain as it is. I wouldn’t come back and spout nonsense just to rub salt into the wounds.”
Looking over my shoulder, I catch Ms. Carter’s eye and nod to her. Her jaw sets and she turns to face the man. I watch as his eyes go wide and tears form in his eyes.
“Hello, Steve.” She says quietly.
“I-I…” He stutters, searching for something to say. “You’re here.” He says finally.
Peggy nods once. “I am. “ She confirms before turning around again to face her godson. “Now, Anthony, this young person has filled me in on the, what did you call them?” She asks, turning her head towards me.
“The Sokovia Accords.” I answer.
“Yes, the Sokovia Accords.” She nods. “You can’t seriously be considering signing the blasted thing.”
“The accords are going to do a lot of good.” He says defensively.
“No, what they’re going to do is set back the progress we’ve made with powered people by several decades. Do you realize how hard it was to normalize the existence of mutants, Tony? Now with the appearance of Inhumans, we’re presented with an entirely new obstacle and the only thing signing those accords will do is not only criminalize, but demonize the existence of anyone with abilities.”
“I am not finished.” She says tersely. I imagine her tacking on a ‘young man’ at the end of her sentence and have to tamp down the urge to laugh. “Why exactly are you signing the accords? Did you think about how it would affect the rest of your team? How it would affect the rest of the world? Once you sign something like this and it takes hold, it’s very hard to dismantle it. Tell me, have you even read through the proposal?”
“I’ve skimmed it.”
“Of course you have.” I mutter, scrubbing a hand down my face.
“(Y/N), please, that’s not helping.” Peggy says curtly.
“Right, sorry. Force of habit.”
She rolls her eyes. “Do you know what they’re proposing to do with those who don’t sign the accords, Tony?”
“I don’t exactly remember for sure.” He answers. We can’t see his face, but I’m certain he’s trying to look anywhere but at Peggy right now.
“They’re going to put them in prison, dear. Prison. For something they can’t even control. And you think this is a good proposal?”
The faceplate of Tony’s mask finally slides up, revealing his uncertain expression. “We need someone to keep us in line. We can’t keep operating on our own. Too many bad things have happened when we’ve run unchecked and it can’t go on like this.”
“Then propose something else.” Peggy says evenly. “The two of you need to work together and draw up a document that you can both agree on.”
“That sounds… doable.” Steve says slowly.
“It damn well better be or, so help me, I will take over and make your lives a living hell until you straighten out. Even then, who knows what I’ll do!” Peggy threatens.
I watch Steve visibly stiffen and I find myself slightly amazed at the effect that this woman has on these two men. I knew she was important, but I guess even then I underestimated her.
When the two men don’t verbally react she shoots alternating disapproving looks at the two men. “Do I make myself clear?”
“Of course, Peggy.” Steve nods fervently.
Peggy and I stare at Tony expectantly. He drops his gaze to the grass.
“Yes, Aunt Peggy.” He mumbles, his words just barely loud enough for us to hear.
Peggy nods in satisfaction. “Good. Now shake on it.”
Both men stare at her, eyes wide. She just lifts her eyebrows at the two of them, her expression otherwise stern.
“Well?” She places her hands on her hips. “We haven’t got all day, have we?”
I watch, mouth covered by my hand to muffle a giggle, as the two men trudge reluctantly towards each other and firmly grasp one others hand. They move them up stiffly up and down once before looking to Ms. Carter for approval. She sighs in exasperation and rolls her eyes.
“Fine,” She scrubs a hand down her face and crosses her arms over her chest. “Let’s get started on this. I don’t want you to put off something this important.”
Steve nods and waves away the security officers who quickly disperse, nodding once to me and Ms. Carter before they’re gone.
“Y’know, I half wanted to work security when I started here.” I muse, watching the men stalk off to their regular postings. “Maybe you guys wouldn’t hate me as much if I did.”
“You think that we hate you?” Steve questions.
I shrug once before nodding. “S’why I left. Everyone was throwing off negative energy and it was all directed at me. With the strength of it, I knew I wouldn’t be missed if I left. On top of that, Tony’s little greeting earlier really just confirmed that my decision was the right one.”
Steve’s expression darkens and I can’t quite read it. He just looks me directly in the eye and nods once before motioning for us to follow him.
I follow after Peggy as both Tony and Steve lead the way back into the facility.
Soon the hallway let’s out into a tunnel of glass, looking out on the expansive fields of the facility. Everything is impossibly green and beautiful. I half wonder if one of the landscapers has powers because whoever keeps up with this has to either be in a hundred places at once or have the greenest thumb in existence.
I amble along behind the small group, taking in the view, shoving my hands in my pockets and not really paying any attention to what’s going on around me. If I keep quiet I’ll be able to leave again soon without too much fuss.
“(Y/N)!” Tony barks, snapping his fingers in front of my nose, effectively stopping me in my tracks.
“What?” I ask, scowling at him.
“We’ve been trying to get your attention for a while now.” Steve says.
“Really?” I raise my eyebrows in surprise. “Sorry, I was just thinking about how much I don’t want to be here. Didn’t realize you’d actually want to talk to me.”
“Is everyone who quits your little company this sarcastic, Tony?” Peggy asks.
“Nope, just this one.”
I roll my eyes. “What was it that you wanted to talk to me about?”
“Where did you get the uniform?” Tony asks. “It’s not like you can just make one.”
“I borrowed it from a friend who liberated it from the wash for me.”
“Who was it?”
“Now that would be tattling, Stark, and tattling can get someone fired in a place like this.”
“It’s not like I’d fire them.” Tony grumbles.
“Wouldn’t you though?” Steve questions, cooking an eyebrow accusing lyrics.
Stark isn’t given a chance to defend himself as Natasha enters the corridor.
“I heard the alarm a little while ago, what happened?” She asks, looking between her two colleagues.
“Why don’t you ask your little friend here?” Tony says, making a sweeping gesture towards me.
“Friend? I didn’t know anyone was supposed to be here.” Her brow furrows as she looks past them before her eyes settle on me and a grin stretches her elegant features. “(Y/N)?”
“Hey, Nat,” I greet her with a wave and a bright smile. “Fancy meeting you here!”
She pushes past the men at the head of the group to wrap an arm round my neck and pull me down to her height so she can grind her knuckles into my scalp. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”
“Couldn’t,” I grit out, smile still firmly in place, and try to shove her off of me. “It was kind of a secret.”
“I’m a spy, I can keep a secret.” She says, releasing me and punching me in the arm.
“I know, but this was a really big one!” I say, my voice almost a whine, and rub at my arm.
“This is what that young man meant when he said she liked you?” Peggy asks incredulously.
“What young man?” Tony asks.
“Nunya,” I answer, shit eating grin plastered on my face.
“Nunya Business…” Tony trails off, his brow furrowing angrily. “Are you fucking kidding me.”
Steve snorts loudly, his mouth covered with his hand to keep his laughter contained and Peggy smacks his arm, a soft smile playing at the corners of her mouth. I laugh outright and Natasha snickers from beside me.
“Was it Jared?” Nat whispers in my ear. I nod in response. “Good kid.”
“He is,” I agree.
“Is that Peggy Carter?”
“Indeed it is,” I nod.
“Isn’t she supposed to be dead?” Natasha asks.
“Right on the nose, Nat.” I laugh. “Figured she was the only one who could fix this whole business with the Accords.”
“Yeah,” I sigh quietly. Steve, Tony and Peggy begin walking down the hall again and Natasha and I follow after them, keeping enough distance between us that we can talk at a normal level. “Is Steve still looking for Barnes?”
“You think there’s any force in the world that could possibly stop him once he’s put his mind to something?”
“Right, well, he might want to check Romania.”
“Sounds strange, I know, but I’ve heard rumors from a few Inhumans in the area who have seen someone who looks like the Winter Soldier in the street markets.”
The group goes into the conference room and Natasha and I loiter outside a while longer.
“You sure the information is legitimate?” She questions.
“I doubt my own people would lie about something this serious. Still,” I shrug. “Even if it’s not, it’s a better lead than anything he’s had in almost two years.”
“Sure wouldn’t hurt.” She turns her attention to the group in the room, hunched over a large stack of papers. “You think you’d ever come back?”
“Stark doesn’t want me here.” I say simply.
“That doesn’t answer the question, (Y/N).”
“Let’s worry about the Accords before I make a decision okay?”
Imagine for me if you will, it’s a Haus party in Bitty’s junior year. Jack has come to visit so it’s pretty low-key. And by low-key I mean Rans&Holster didn’t invite people from every college in a 50 mile radius. So the hockey team is there, the whole bench though and their significant others and close friends so the Haus is still teeming with people right? And it was an unusually warm spring day so the theme for the night is beach party.
Girls in bikini tops and cut off jean shorts, Rans&Holster are in booty running shorts and crop tops. Jack is still in jeans and a t-shirt but the shades and backwards ball cap give him a laid back look as he chats with a shirtless Chowder who’s only wearing some board shorts. Nursey just wore skinny pants and a tank top and Dex is in some silky basketball shorts with a t-shirt.
The biggest spectacle after Rans&Hoster are Bitty and Shitty. In true Shitty fashion he’s showing more skin than anyone would wish but much to the relief of everyone, Lardo had taken one look at the speedo paired with his trusty jean vest, tugged him down into a chair and distracted him with kisses while sitting on his lap and covering some of that creamy white skin.
Bitty, well Bitty is embracing the efforts of the Better Bitty Booty Bureau in his short shorts and the tank top that’s been knotted in the back to show off those back and ab muscles that come so naturally to D1 college hockey players.
Dex and Nursey are against a wall, it’s Dex’s turn to drink so he’s already had a couple shots and is nursing (lol) a beer next to Nurse as they talk about class.
Then that tell-tale “Lemme hear you say ‘Hey, Ms. Carter,’” plays over the speakers and a small cheer goes up on the “dance floor” in the middle of the living room.
Dex watches the crowd part as Bitty drags Jack from the kitchen doorway to the middle of the crowd of writhing bodies dancing away to Beyoncé.
“Oh man, Bits is so fun to dance with on this playlist,” Nursey says, already pushing off the wall and taking the last swallow of beer in his glass like he’s going to leave Dex all by his lonesome along the wall.
Well. Fuck that.
“D, let Bits get it on with his boyfriend,” Dex slurs slightly as he reaches out and grabs a hold of a sweat slick bicep.
Nursey freezes and looks back over his shoulder at Dex, raising an eyebrow for good measure.
“But I wanna dance,” he pouts and Dex shrugs.
“So dance here, I wanna drink some more,” he offers and Nursey looks down, only when Dex follows his gaze does he realize he’s still holding Nursey’s arm, even though he stepped back to stand along the wall again.
“You want me to dance here?” Nursey asks speculatively, looking pointedly at the lack of space and the people milling around not dancing.
Dex goes to take another swallow of beer and finds his cup empty. After pouting for a moment he looks back up at Nursey and sighs.
“Fine you can go dance, but I’m coming with,” Dex declares and proceeds to drag Nursey into the crowd of people dancing away to the dirty, dirty words of Beyoncé.
Dex just dances for a while, lets the alcohol and the music work his muscles loose and pliant. He forgets to keep an eye on Nursey and by the time he remembers Nursey is on Dex patrol tonight instead of the other way around Nursey has weaved through the crowd and is standing right in front of him.
“Hi,” Dex says, smiling brightly. “You came back!”
“Never left, Poindexter,” Nursey grumbles but he doesn’t look all that irritated. So Dex leans in and throws his arms around Derek’s neck and goes back to moving his body with the beat.
After a too-long hesitation, Dex feels those big strong hands taking a hold of his sides and Dex smirks at Derek.
“Way to make yourself useful,” he says over the music, “now dance with me ya putz.”
Nursey shakes his head but Dex thinks he’s laughing so it’s okay.
“Never knew you could dance like this, Dex,” Nursey says a little while later when there’s a quiet lull in the music.
Dex just throws his head back and laughs because he’s not drunk (he is though) but he is having fun and since Nursey hasn’t caught on yet to the fact that Dex wants to date him, he might as well up his game even further.
“You ain’t seen nothing,” Dex purrs, dropping the words right in Derek’s ear.
He grins, wicked and sharp and pulls Nursey from the dance floor towards the kitchen. It’s even hotter in there somehow but Dex doesn’t care. All he cares about is turning his pulling into pushing Nursey down onto a kitchen chair that was left turned away from the table.
Nursey has never been so confused and so turned on at the same time in his life. William Poindexter has taken him to the semi-private kitchen for what Derek can only hope is a private dance show?? Maybe a-
His thoughts cut off when Dex plops down on his lap, long legs straddling Nursey, long pale arms loosely around his neck.
“You want me to stop, just say so D,” Dex whispers in his ear and Nursey has no hope of containing the shiver that goes through him.
Nursey is equal parts confused, awestruck and turned on. Because he had no idea that all that lithe muscle on the 6’2” frame could move like that. So sinuous and practiced and -
“Do you practice this?” he blurts out and Dex stops and gives him a look. One of those, if he had glasses he’d be looking over the rim to stare disapprovingly at him type looks.
“Not since I took that pole dancing class in high school,” Dex says flatly.
And Nursey’s brain kind of whites out at the image of Dex in shorts that just barely cover the goods, so tight they might as well be painted on dancing on a pole.
He literally loses focus on his surroundings the next thing he knows Dex is in front of him, hands on Derek’s shoulders and he’s still moving in one long sinuous line.
“P-Pole dancing, bro?”
Dex smirks and slides his chest up from where he’d been crouching in front of Nursey so close he catches the smell of his aftershave. And Derek always thought that move was overdone, I mean if Channing Tatum doing it didn’t rile him up, who would? But it is so much different when it’s a strong sweaty chest that’s attached to your best friends face and is perilously close to you when he does it. And Nursey finds himself reaching out to touch and Dex doesn’t stop him, miraculously he grabs Derek’s hand and puts it right on his chest, right in between those pale freckled pecs.
Then Dex is turning, curling in closer as he holds Nursey’s hand in place where he’d put it and then that perfect hockey ass is in his lap, swaying and circling and mesmerizing in those basketball shorts. Too soon probably Nursey has to end the private show. He can’t take it anymore and pulls Dex into his lap, wrapping his own strong arms around that beautiful chest pulling back until Dex’s weight is fully on him and his head is tilted back on Nursey’s shoulder. Nursey buries his nose there and starts mouthing at the sweaty skin.
“You’re killin me,” he grumbles and Dex laughs before it turns into a moan.
“We-” he gasps when Nursey uses just a hint of teeth. “We can’t afford the fines of desecrating Bitty’s kitchen.”
Nursey groans and buries his face where he’d been happily leaving a mark.
“So we have to move?”
Dex laughs again and pats his now limp hands that are no longer holding him in place.
“Come on, I’ll get right back in your lap once we’re in our room.”
And well, Nursey can’t turn down a promise like that.
I wanted to sneak some Aunt Peggy into this AU. :)
“Sir, Ms. Carter is here,” Jarvis said, stepping into his office. “Would you like me to escort her here or would you like to g–”
“Too late!” Peggy said, pushing past him. “I’m already here. Howard, you know I don’t like to be kept waiting.”
Howard stood, waving at Jarvis when he sighed in that way that said ‘I’d roll my eyes if I could but that would be unprofessional.’ “Thanks for trying, Jarvis.”
Jarvis dipped his head. “Shall I bring tea?”
“Don’t bother,” Peggy cut in before Howard could say anything. “Tony will be home soon and I don’t want tea on my blouse.”
Jarvis sighed again, this time fondly, and said, “Very well.”
Howard waited for him to leave before asking, “What’s that?”
Peggy turned to purse her lips at him. “It’s a garment bag, Howard. I’m sure you’ve seen one before.”
“Of course I’ve seen one,” Howard scoffed. “Just never yours. And it’s quite small, isn’t it?” He leered. “Are you here to put on a show for me, Peggy? I’m alright with it, but I’ll need to ask my wife–”
“Howard!” Peggy laughed, so surprised that she didn’t have a chance to pretend she was mad. “Maria would kill us both!”
“Not if I invited her to watch as well,” Howard said confidently, putting his hands on his hips.
“Invited me to watch what?” Maria asked poking her head into the office. She watched the two humans sputter and blush and raised an eyebrow. “…Hmm.”
Howard flailed a little. “It’s nothing, Maria!”
“…If you say so,” she said after a moment. “Howard, did you forget Tony got out of school early because of construction in their science wing? He’s going to–” She yelped as Howard rushed past her, knocking her into the door jamb painfully. “Ow, Howard! Damn!” Maria called after him, offended, and rubbed her side. “…Ow.”
“Are you alright, Maria?” Peggy asked in concern. “Howard’s scatterbrained but I’ve never seen him like… that.”
“Ohh,” Maria mumbled rubbing her side again. “Ever since Tony started school, Howard’s always waited on the landing for him to get home. He tries to act casual but Tony knows he’s waiting for him. It’s almost as if he thinks Tony’s so oblivious that he’d never notice his father always happening to be at the same place every time he comes home.”
Peggy let out a little noise of amusement. “Oh my God. It seems like every time I come over here, I learn a new way he’s smitten with that boy.”
“Well, it seems like every day he sees him, he finds a new way to be smitten,” Maria admitted fondly. She tilted her head. “What’s in your garment bag, Peggy? It’s very small.” She leered. “Oh, were you planning on putting on a show?”
“I hate both of you and I’m going to kidnap Tony and raise him on my own,” Peggy informed her, but she was smiling. “You’re both awful. I can’t believe Tony continues to be the exuberant ball of innocence he is with you as his parents.”
Maria laughed. “Well, Howard is quite a prude around Tony. I’m lucky if a peck on the lips lasts more than two seconds if Tony’s in the room.”
“I adore Howard,” Peggy said, giggling behind her hand. “What a man of mystery. A ladies’ man until he met you, a devoted husband, and now a prudish father. And he somehow manages to be all three at the same time some days.”
“He is absolutely precious,” Maria agreed.
They turned as they heard laughing just in time to see Howard hobble back into the office, Tony standing on his feet and giggling as he was carried around. He brightened when he saw Peggy and let go of Howard’s hands to rush over to her. “Aunt Peggy!”
“Hello, darling,” Peggy replied, kneeling so he could throw himself into her arms. “I hear you’ve started designing a robot.”
“Yeah!” Tony answered immediately, leaning back so he could grin at her. “Dad’s even letting me do everything myself! Or, well, um–” He turned and looked at Howard before turning to look at Peggy again. “I have to let him help me with the heavy stuff, and I need his supervision for welding and stuff. But the rest of it I get to do myself!”
“My, that’s so exciting, Tony!” Peggy said, smiling at him. “I hope everything goes well. But then, you and your father are so clever, I’m sure it will.”
Tony beamed at her. “Thanks, Aunt Peggy!” He noticed the garment bag still in her hand and tilted his head. “Whats in the bag, Aunt Peggy? It looks too small for you.” He gasped. “Aunt Peggy, is it for me?!”
Peggy paused to give both Howard and Maria long, disappointed looks before she looked back down at Tony with a smile. “It is!”
“You got me a present and it isn’t even my birthday!” Tony cheered. He reached for the garment bag, then seemed to remember his manners and clasped his hands behind his back shyly.
Peggy stood and unzipped the garment bag. “I remembered you told me that your friend Janet is doing a little project of designing dresses from each decade.”
“Yeah,” Tony answered hopefully, eyes glued on the garment bag.
Peggy pushed the garment bag open to show a long dark skirt and cream-colored jacket with a cinched waist. “Well, I just found this gorgeous skirt and jacket the other day, just like the ones I used to wear in the forties! Maybe you’d like to wear it the next time you go over to Janet’s house? You can tell her this was high fashion in the forties, especially the cinched waist.”
“Aunt Peggy I love it,” Tony breathed, reaching out to grasp the sleeve of the jacket.
“And,” Peggy added proudly. “Hat brims were much wider back then. This hat might be a bit big for you, but–”
Tony nearly vibrated as she took off her hat and set it on his head. “Really?!”
Peggy watched the hat tip forward, just a tad too large, and reached out to fix it. “Of course, dear. You might have to grow into it.”
“Nonsense,” Maria scoffed, coming to kneel beside him, and carefully fixed the hat on his head. “If we can’t make it work with bobby pins, I have several hat pins. How would you like to wear one of your mother’s pretty hat pins, Tony?”
“You can’t,” Howard blurted out before he could say anything.
Peggy and Maria swiveled to glare at him.
He valiantly did not shrink. “Honey, your hat pins are illegal. They’re too long.”
“What–why?!” Maria exclaimed, sputtering.
“The suffragettes used them as weapons so there were laws made.”
“…Well!” Peggy said, smiling. “Your suffragettes were my kind of women!”
“Howard you’ve let me wear my hat pins to the races!” Maria sputtered again.
Howard blinked at her. “Maria, I have no intention of telling my wife, who can turn into a werewolf, what she can and cannot wear to the races. I will however put my foot down for Tony. He doesn’t have your ability to make people wish they were dead yet.”
Maria stared at him stonily.
Howard nodded. “Yes, like that.”
Tony giggled and pushed the brim of the hat up. “My hair’s not long enough for hat pins anyway,” he said, even though he stared longingly at the jewelry box where Maria kept her hat pins.
“Aw,” Peggy and Maria cooed.
“We’ll just have to figure something out,” Maria continued, stroking her thumb over his cheek. “Peggy, this was so kind. Thank you.”
Peggy sighed. “Well, it’s good practice for when my nieces and nephews finally start having children. I missed this part of their lives because of the war.”
“You can spoil me whenever you want, Aunt Peggy!” Tony offered helpfully.
Peggy snorted, smiling, and gave his cheek the smallest of pinches because only Tony could offer to let someone spoil him and actually mean for it to make the other person feel better. “I will, dear.”
Jarvis knocked on the doorway. “I’ve made coffee.”
“Oh, delightful!” Peggy said, smiling.
Tony turned, hand raised.
“Yes, and a cup of chocolate milk for you, sir, with apples and peanut butter for your afternoon snack.”
“Yay!” Tony cheered, running for the door.
Howard snagged the hat off of his head on the way by. “Let’s leave this with the skirt and jacket, Tony. It would be just our luck if it fell off your head and into your peanut butter.”
“Aw,” Tony complained, but agreed easily enough, instead grabbing and tugging on Howard’s hand. “C’mon, Dad, I wanna tell you about what happened in school today!”
“Of course, honey,” Howard answered immediately, letting himself be dragged down the hall.
Jarvis sighed that fond eye-rolling sigh and followed them.
“Oh dear,” Peggy murmured. “He didn’t call Howard ‘daddy’ once the entire time I’ve been here.”
“Don’t bring it up,” Maria ordered immediately as they began to follow the men out. “I had to calm that tempest twice already.”
I asked her once how she managed to master diplomacy and espionage at a time when no one wanted to see a woman succeed at either. And she said “Compromise where you can. Where you can’t, don’t. Even if everyone is telling you that something wrong is something right. Even if the whole world is telling you to move, it is your duty to plant yourself like a tree, look them in the eye, and say ‘No, you move’.”
Summary: Riley Carter works in the writer’s wing of Balor Club, Inc, which is owned by Finn Balor. Not only does she writes for the company, she writes for a small magazine in her college dorm where the girls shared their fantasies, sexual or not. One day, she gets over plied with the magazine and the business article for the company that she accidentally sends her maybe or maybe not sexual fantasy about her boss to the company. The same day a few hours later, she is called into Finn’s office and smut ensues.
Warnings: Smut, Dom!Finn Balor, Praise kink, Spanking kink, Oral (Male giving and receiving), A little choking kink, a little Fluff, Porn gifs (’cause why tf not?)
Notes: What is up, Gang? What is up, Squad? I’m back at it, again. Back with another one. This time with just my fiance, Finn Balor in a 50 shades of grey spin-off. Inspired by THIS gif set. Sorry for the delay. Been busy with school bullshit and more bullshit.
“Thank God I’m home.” Riley said, sighing and takes off her shoes leaning against the wall.
Summary: Starting fifth year in a completely new area proves less confusing than Y/N thought, as she easily befriends a number of people. The only thing is, not all of them get along, and Y/N finds herself torn between them (High School AU).
You drew a deep breath and forced yourself to remain calm. Things were getting way out of hand.
“Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
“You’re on his side?!”
“You know I’m never one to back down from a fight, but trust me when I say that he’s not worth it,” you murmured quietly, leaning close to his ear so he would hear you better.
This wasn’t going to end well.
mum. I don’t need a lift.”
“Are you sure?
It’s on the way, and-”
you said, laughing as you pulled on your shoes. “I’ll find my way.”
and glanced at the clock on the wall.
have half an hour.”
is fifteen minutes down the road. I’ll be fine. Thanks for offering,” you said,
smiling. You leant up to give her a quick hug and a peck on the cheek as you
got up, before opening the front door. “I’ll see you later. Enjoy your first
day at the office!” you exclaimed, flashing her a smile as you started walking.
she joked, waving. You waved back, and started your walk to the school.
A soft breeze
rustled through the leaves of the trees as you walked by, and you felt oddly
calm. You had done this so many times by now that it was completely normal, and
you didn’t feel as anxious as you used to. As you walked, you noticed other
students walking further up the road, waving each other over and greeting each
other excitedly. You thought nothing of it, and soon you were by the front
gates of the school.
walked past the school before, when you were finding out where it was and all,
but when you saw the size of it, you forgot to think about the amount of
students a school that size could take in. You took a deep breath and pulled
the folded piece of paper out of your pocket, trying to flatten the creases as
you opened it and made your way through the gates.
“The latest WikiLeaks release has sent a shockwave through the intelligence community, especially in the upper echelons of SHIELD, whose tools for hacking into smart devices were among the information obtained by the group. Joining us today to discuss the impact of this leak on the intelligence community is the former Director of SHIELD herself, Peggy Carter. Ms. Carter, thank you for coming on the show today.”
Peggy smiled slightly into the webcam and adjusted the lapel of her blazer, praying her home office looked tidier on camera than it actually was. “Thank you for your invitation.”
“What are your thoughts regarding the Vault 7 leaks?”
Peggy shrugged. “It’s nothing truly earth-shattering. A lot of the operating systems referenced in the files are obsolete and have since been updated, and the Weeping Angel hack has been presented at security conferences previously. Much of this information is just a confirmation of what was widely assumed–that is, intelligence agencies have the capability to hack into a person’s smart devices. It’s certainly not good for SHIELD to be compromised this way, but the comparison to Snowden’s NSA leaks are certainly inaccurate.”
“And what do you make of Assange’s statement that he will provide assistance to tech companies to patch the bugs mentioned in the Vault 7 files?” The newscaster let out a stifled chuckle. “Ma’am, I believe one of your children just walked in.”
As if on cue, Peggy felt a tug on her sleeve. She placed a hand on her elder daughter’s head and tried to regain her train of thought. “You’re certainly seeing caution from Silicon Valley. They are understandably suspicious of Assange’s motives, given–”
There was a more insistent tug on Peggy’s sleeve, and she looked down to see her daughter Sarah grinning at her, holding a toy in each hand with her glasses slightly askew.
“Not now, darling. Mummy’s working.” Sarah opened her mouth, no doubt to deliver a the most devastating retort a three-year-old could conjure. “No, Sarah. Go find your father.”
Peggy turned back to the camera. “I’m terribly sorry. As I was saying, given that Wikileaks has a history of releasing individuals’ personal information and Assange’s apparent ties with Russia–”
There was a loud crash behind Peggy, and she turned her head to see Eleanor in her walker, bumping into her bookshelves and precariously stacked piles of paper. Steve slid into the room right after her, banging his shoulder on the office door. She looked heavenward as Steve hustled their girls out of the room, one hand clutching the back of Sarah’s jumper, the other practically lifting Eleanor’s walker off the floor.
“My apologies,” Peggy said with an embarrassed grin as Sarah jabbered at Steve in the background about how she got to play in Mum’s office all the time and he was being so unfair and she left her Bucky Bear behind.
“Anyway, with Wikileaks’ reputation–” She was once again interrupted, this time by a loud shriek from Eleanor. Peggy managed to tamp down her wince, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw Steve kneeling in the doorway. He reached for the door handle and missed, almost toppling to the floor. His second try was successful, and he closed the door just as Sarah started yelling to be heard over Eleanor’s babbling.
Peggy sighed and shook her head. “I’m so sorry. As I was saying–can you repeat your question please?”
Later that night, Peggy found herself scrolling through her Twitter mentions. She probably shouldn’t have been surprised that the video went viral, but it was still supremely unnerving to have more internet presence in a given day than her famous, superhero husband.
She reached a tweet that made her stop short. “Steve,” she gasped, “how did they guess that I was wearing pajama bottoms during the interview? I made sure not to move my chair at all!”