#compound words i sometimes just say the first word and the first letter of the second word

[outer-edges]

just discovered cockney rhyming slang and i am SO obsessed with this i wish it didn't sound absolutely ridiculous in american english because it is right up my alley i LOVE doings that make my speech borderline incomprehensible

[ofstarsandvibranium]

My Sweetheart: Part 2

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: You purchase a vintage sweetheart bracelet from an antique store and with it, comes the spirit of the woman who owned it. Through her, you go on an interesting journey to find out what happened to her old lover.

Part 1

It's been two days since you've basically taken a ghost back home with you. Said ghost named Dot who was attached to the sweetheart bracelet you bought. In the few days since discovering her, you've discovered that she can be pretty powerful. She'll open doors, knock things over, stuff to grab your attention. While she does have a lot of energy, communicating with you can take a lot out of her sometimes. Now it's day three and you're at your computer with a pen and paper beside you to see if she can give you the name of this Jamie person.

You watch as the pen moves a bit but doesn't lift. You're sure she's trying her best, but it kind of frustrates you. You want to help Dot so she can move on and so that you can get back to living your regular life, completely alone without your newfound ghost roommate.

Ways to talk to ghosts

You type the words into google and click on the first link you see: ouija board, a spiritual medium, pendulums, rods, voice recorder, or a spirit box.

Out of all the options, you felt like the ouija board would be the best bet to communicate with Dot. So later that day you go to your local Target and purchase a ouija board, because, yes, they do sell those there. The board being considered as a game.

Later that night, after you've had dinner, you sit in your living room. You have the ouiji board set on your coffee table. The lights are off in the room except for a few candles you lit. You place the sweetheart bracelet beside the board, hoping it'll bring as much of Dot's energy as possible. Beside that, is a pad and paper for you to jot notes

You take the planchette, sliding it over to HELLO.

You take a deep breath, "Dot, are you here?"

With your fingers lightly touching the planchette, they slide towards YES on their own.

"Alright. What is your full name?"

You watch at the device slides over each letter to spell out D-O-L-O-R-E-S-M-I-L-L-A-R-D.

"Dolores Millard. Okay. Nice to meet you, Dolores. But I'm assuming you prefer Dot?"

YES, she says as it slides to the upper left of the board.

"Alright, Dot. Who is this Jamie you want me to look for him? Why do you want me to look for him?"

J-A-M-E-S-B-A-R-N-E-S

"James Barnes? Uuuhh, is there anything else you can give me? Does he have a middle name? It'll make things easier to looking him up."

B-U-C-H-A-N-A-N.

"James Buchanan Barnes. Alright. Give me a second," you pull out your phone and type in James Buchanan Barnes as well as 1940s.

You went through a list of men, Dot either telling you YES or NO. Then it hit you, "Wait. Hold on."

You type in BUCKY BARNES to google and tap on a picture captured of him and Sam Wilson, "Is this your Jamie? Is Bucky Barnes your Jamie?"

YES.

"...well shit!"

_______________________________

Bucky didn't expect things to go this way. He didn't think he'd find himself working beside Captain America again. However, he did find it therapeutic in a way. Sure, he still went to therapy, just not with Dr. Raynor anymore, but this was a different kind of therapeutic. This was him doing good, to make up for all the bad he's done as the Winter Soldier.

The newly renovated Avengers Compound in upstate New York was where Bucky stayed a majority of his time. He still had his place in Brooklyn when he needed to get away from Sam and the newbies, but, for the most part, this was where he can be found.

"Uh, hey, Mister Barnes?"

Bucky looks away from the tv to see Kamala looking at him confused, "What is it, kid?" He asks the young Avenger.

"So there's this lady in the main lobby asking for you. She said it's important?"

"Define important."

Kamala shrugs, "I don't know. Something about a bracelet and a lady named Dot."

Bucky's brows raise in interest, "Dot?"

"FRIDAY?"

"Yes, Bucky?"

"Bring up the CCTV footage of the lobby?"

"Got it," a holoscreen appears and you're seen sitting in a waiting area. Your leg is bouncing, your fingers are tapping on your lap.

"Is she someone you know?" Kamala asks.

Bucky shakes his head, "Nope, but she's mentioned someone that from my past. So I guess I'm gonna talk to her."

Kamala excitedly asks, "Need backup?!"

He chuckles at her eagerness. Even after working with Carol and Monica, Kamala is always wanting to jump in to help, "I think I'll be okay. You can watch the live footage if you want, just in case."

"OKAY!" Kamala plops herself onto the couch where Bucky previously sat and watched the holoscreen eagerly.

It takes a few minutes for Bucky to get to the lobby. The new Avengers Compound is much bigger now after Thanos destroyed the first one.

His brows furrow as he thinks about Dot. It's been literal decades since he's seen her. He knows she's long passed away after looking her and several other of his loved ones up on the internet. She ended up marrying another guy, had a few kids, and a few grandkids. She died about a decade ago.

When Bucky entered the lobby, you spotted him immediately. One of the security guards rushed to stop you, but Bucky held his hand up, "It's okay."

He then looks at you, "Do I know you?"

You shake your head, "No, sorry, um...can we go somewhere private?"

It's Bucky's turn to shake his head, "Sorry. Since I don't necessarily if you're a threat or not, this is the best we can do."

"Alright," you sigh and pull up your sleeve to reveal a bracelet, "Does this look familiar to you?"

Bucky looks down at your wrist and gestures, "May I?" You slip it off and place it into his metal hand. He looks at it and suddenly remembers, "Dot. I gave this to her before I was shipped out for the war."

"Right. Okay, so, um...do you believe in ghosts, Mr. Barnes?"

He snorts, "Call me Bucky, and, I mean, I've fought aliens, super soldiers, died and came back a few times now, so, sure, I guess ghosts are real. Why?"

"Soooo it seems that Dot's spirit is still connected to this...realm...? Anyway, she's attached to this bracelet and her spirit asked me to find you. I think, maybe, for some closure?"

"Is Dot here now?" Bucky asks, a bit, weirded out by this whole thing.

You shrug, "I don't know. I can't see her."

"Then how'd you communicate with her?"

"She wrote on my steamed up mirror the first time and then it's been primarily through ouija board."

"Those things actually work?"

"Seems so. Anyway, I'd really appreciate it if you helped me give her spirit closure so I can start living a normal life again, sans my new ghost roommate."

Bucky snorts. You're very interesting. It seems you're also very determined and a little desperate to solve this Dot situation out. Bucky's not busy. Sam's away on his own mission, so that leaves Bucky to some free time.

"Yeah. Sure, I guess I'll help."

"Thank you!" you fist bump the air, "Should we start now?"

"What exactly should we do first?"

You slip off your tote bag that you've been carrying and pull out the ouija board you've been using, "We can make contact with Dot?"

"You're...efficient," you shrug and Bucky chuckles, "Yeah. Sure. Okay. Um, we need to get you clearance first so, uh, come with me." You follow him to the desk and watch as he discusses your clearance badge to one of the security. You never thought buying a pretty vintage bracelet from an antique store would lead you to meeting an Avenger.

[whumped-by-glitter]

WOW's Birthday Event Day 3: Crying / Parting Words Regret / “Why…"

⚠️ No CWs today I don't think. Also, I ran out of generic names..... sooo, Claudio 🤣

Day 2 Here < > Day 4 here

Youngest team member took the video harder than Leader expected. He had been prepared for Caretaker’s reaction, but not Youngest’s. Holding the sobbing youngest in their arms right now made Leader realize just how young they were, how innocent.

It was an easy fact to forget sometimes, despite their childish antics. Youngest would fight fiercely right along side the rest of them. Their superhuman speed was an asset to their team, as was their optimism and quick wit. However, seeing them now reminded him they were still just a child underneath everything.

Youngest finally pulled away from Leader after some time of crying. Their eyes were glassy from tears, but brighter.

“I’m going to rescue Whumpee,” the 19-year-old announced resolutely.

“You absolutely will not!” Leader exclaimed. “I miss them too, but we cannot risk going in ill prepared. This man is a cartel arms dealer.” Youngest was naive and reckless for even suggesting it.

“So, what? You’ll just abandon Whumpee? Let them die?” Youngest argued, incredulous at Leader’s hesitation.

“That is not what I’m saying and you know it!” Leader growled, anger stirring at the boy’s accusation. The guilt was eating him alive as is.

“Then why?! Why won’t you let me go?! I’m fast, I can be in and out!” Youngest was confident they could do it.

“you were there that day, Youngest! Breaking into that place was a failure for all of us combined! Don’t be an idiot!” Leader yelled, “I forbid you from going and that’s final!” Leader was starting to lose their temper. Youngest was reckless, naive and he could now add overconfident to the list too.

Youngest shook their head “I refuse to follow your orders this time Leader. I can’t, I won’t.”

“If you leave and something happens to you, I will not waste the manpower to come after you!” Leader practically screamed, finally snapping. He instantly regretted the words as they left his mouth. The pressure of the failed mission, now Whumpee, was too much.

“It’s your fault Whumpee is gone in the first place!” Youngest bit back before storming out. Leaving Leader sitting alone in silence and guilt.

---

Youngest stormed to their room and started packing their mission bag. They would rescue whumpee with or without Leaders blessing, thy resolved in their head.

Once packed Youngest snuck out of the window and into the inky night. From there they started sprinting, if Youngest calculated it correctly they would be at Whumpee’s last known location by morning.

---

Leader sat alone, stunned, Youngest’s words felt like a sharp slap in the face. It was his fault, he was supposed to look after Whumpee. In hindsight whumpee shouldn’t have even been on that mission, their powers had not come in fully yet. Leader had been too obsessed with throwing everything into taking out the weapons dealer, Claudio, he ignored the fact that Whumpee should have been benched to easier missions to awaken their abilities.

Quiet tears fell down Leader’s face. He thought about the letter and the flash drive. Now that he was past the shock he could fully process the events of that morning.

Something did not add up. That, what they had just seen, was not Claudio’s style. The man was ruthless, sadistic, and cruel, but that, that back there, that was deranged. As he turned it over in his head more Leader came to the slow horrible realization, Claudio did not have Whumpee, someone else did…..

---

Youngest made it to the edge of Claudio’s compound by morning, as they had predicted. They proceeded to sneak around the fence, trying to stay out view of cameras, trying to find a way in. Finally the found a gap under the tarpped, barbed wire topped chain-link fence that looked big enough to squeeze their wiry frame through.

Youngest scanned the area one more time to check for cameras. When they were certain it was clear they put on all the gear they thought they would need. They elected to leave their bulky mission bag hidden for later retrieval. With another glance around they began to push their way under the fence.

The 19-year-old just pushed their arms through when they felt cold metal snap around their left wrist. They tried to immediately pull back, but was too late. Whoever was on the other side grabbed them and pulled them the rest of the way through. In the process a of Youngest being dragged under the fence a hood was put on over their head as soon as it was on the other side.

Once through Youngest’s arms were wrenched behind their back and the other cuff snapped onto their right wrist. They could also feel shackles being placed on their ankles, preventing them from running.

In the moment Youngest should have felt panic and terror, but strangely, all they could feel is immense regret. They replayed their final words to Leader, they were awful. Now exactly what Leader warned them would happen, happened.

‘Why had I been so stupid? Why hadn’t I listened?’ the thought played in Youngest’s head like a broken record. Then it hit them like a punch to the gut, ‘will the team even come rescue me?’ Leader’s words rang through their head, louder than a gunshot.

---

Leader decided to check on Youngest that morning. He felt bad about the things he had said, and wanted to make sure the boy was okay. He knew that Youngest likely didn’t mean the things they said either. They were all just highly emotional and stressed over Whumpee.

He knocked on Youngest’s door, there was no answer. Leader knocked again, louder, there was still no answer. Panic grew in Leaders chest and he began to pound.

“Youngest!” he boomed out, the name tearing out of his chest. “Youngest!” When there was still no answer, his gut twisted.

Leader busted the door. As he was terrified that he would discover, Youngest was gone. Leader Collapsed to the floor, his trademark stoicism, completely gone.

“Not you too! No! Why?” He cried out loud.

Leader sobbed, washed with regret and guilt.

@whumperofworlds

Event Prompts Here

My Event Masterlist

[sergeantbuckybarnes]

you belong with me (part 3) // fred weasley

Summary: You’re stubborn, so when your best friend tries to convince you that Bucky Barnes isn’t the right guy for you, you try to prove him wrong. In the process, you end up in a place you thought only existed in books, where you meet the one.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader (eventually)

Word count: 4k

Warnings: angst, mentions of past bullying

A/N: As always, remember English is not my first language. Also, thanks to @error501beta​ for proofreading this!

main masterlist  |  series masterlist

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland, Great Britain, 1994

It had been a few weeks since you had unexpectedly landed in this reality, and you might say things were going well for you.

The arrival of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students and the announcement of the Triwizard Tournament had set Hogwarts ablaze with liveliness. The halls were teeming with excitement, as everyone busily prepared for the grand event.

You'd become close to Hermione and spent nearly all of your time with her. It felt good to have a genuine girlfriend; while you were very fond of Peter and treasured your friendship with him, but sometimes you just needed a girl — who wasn’t your sister– on whom you could rely, and sadly you didn’t have that back at home.

“Hey, America,” you sighed in annoyance when you heard the voice you'd –unwillingly– become accustomed to calling you from the end of the corridor.

When you turned your head, you saw a pair of indistinguishable figures with bright red hair. “Yes?” You asked with a forced smile.

“Is it true that you can see the future?” This question does come out of George’s mouth.

You knew it was George and not Fred, because you had since learned all the subtle differences between the twins. They were minimal, but they were there. Also, you were proud to say that you had a keen eye.

You rolled your eyes, recognizing the source of that strange query, “No, I’m not.”

Since you mentioned Ludovic Bagman and the letter to Fred on your first day at Hogwarts, he'd been bugging you, speculating that you were a seer. It wasn't your intention to be serious about it, you just wanted to mess with him, but your "prediction" of what would happen later in the story had stuck with the curious redhead.

“Fred says you are.”

You squinted at him, “And do you believe all the bullshit that comes out your brother’s mouth?”

“Hey!” the aforementioned brother exclaimed, offended.

You just shrugged, not regretting your words. It's not as if you had lied.

“You’re a seer!” He declared with unwavering conviction. Very sure of his words. Something that did not surprise you, because Fred Weasley was defined by his self-assurance.

“What makes you believe she's a seer?” Fred looked at his brother as if he was being incredibly stupid.  

“I already told you!” He threw his arms up in frustration. “She knows stuff,” he mumbled under his breath, not wanting to be heard; something improbable given that you three were the only ones in the corridor, everyone else being in the Great Hall since it was dinner time.  

Your stomach rumbled. You hadn’t eaten since noon, which was hours ago. Eating at set times is something you hadn’t done since your days at the orphanage. Living in the Avengers Compound came with various perks, including the freedom to indulge in any food item at any given hour.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied with a puzzled expression on your face.

You would never want someone to be falsely accused of lying, but you and Fred had gotten off to a bad start, and it must be confessed that you were a little spiteful.

Fred widened his eyes, “You told me about Mr. Bagman!”

“Who?”

“Fred, she can’t know about Bagman because she doesn’t even know who he is,” George pointed out. Oh, the voice of the reason.

“But she knows,” Fred insisted, stomping his foot on the floor like a five-year-old throwing a tantrum

“I don’t have time for this. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to have dinner.”

You left the twins behind as you made your way to the Great Hall. Their voices were faintly audible in the distance, as the Weasley boys continued to debate whether or not you were a seer.

“Well, the goblet is nearly ready to make its choice,” Dumbledore explained. “I believe it will take another minute. “Now, when the champions' names are announced, I would direct them to come to the top of the Hall, go along the staff table, and enter the next chamber,” he pointed to the door behind the staff table, “where they will receive their first instructions.”

He drew out his wand and swung it in a graceful motion, causing all the candles in the room to be snuffed out except for the ones inside the intricately carved pumpkins. The sudden lack of light left the space shrouded in a dim and eerie atmosphere. The Goblet of Fire now shone brighter than anything else in the Hall. The flames within flickered a vibrant, electric blue and white that burned so brightly it was almost painful to look at.

“Hope it’s Angelina,” Fred said.

“So do I.” Hermione agreed with a nod.

Oh, boy, if they only knew…

The flames within the goblet burst into an intense crimson hue once again. Small sparks began shooting out of it. Then a flicker of flame suddenly shot up, followed quickly by a scorched piece of parchment – the entire room gasped. Dumbledore quickly grabbed the parchment and held it out in front of him, the flames flickering white and blue again. Raising his voice so that everyone could hear, he read out loud, “The champion for Durmstrang will be Viktor Krum.”

“No surprises there!” Ron screamed as the hall erupted in applause and cheers.

Viktor Krum slouched up from the Slytherin table towards Dumbledore, turned right, strolled along the staff table, and disappeared through the entrance into the next chamber.

The room fell silent as everyone's focus shifted back to the goblet, which rapidly transformed back into a vibrant red color. Suddenly, the flames erupted once more and a second parchment shot out of it. “The champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!”

Hermione, amidst the bustling commotion, gestured towards the remaining Beauxbatons group and said, “Oh look, they’re all disappointed.”

“‘Disappointed’ was a bit of an understatement,” you thought. The girls who hadn't been selected appeared utterly devastated; two of them were now crying uncontrollably and hiding their tear-streaked faces in their arms. Seeing such raw emotion on display made it clear just how much this opportunity had meant to them.

When Fleur Delacour disappeared into the adjacent room, silence fell again, but this time it was a silence so stiff with excitement you could almost taste it. The Hogwarts champion was about to be announced next…

Your stomach had knotted up for no apparent reason. Perhaps it was the anticipation of what was to come.  You knew everything would be okay –except for Cedric– but the terrible taste in your mouth would not disappear.

Although you had only been here for a short while, you had grown fond of these people. You cared about them even before you knew they were real and they were just characters in the pages of a book.

You got attached to people fast, which could be an issue here given what was to come.

Once again, the Goblet of Fire turned red and emitted sparks, shooting a large flame into the air from its tip. Dumbledore retrieved the third piece of parchment and announced with enthusiasm, “The Hogwarts champion is Cedric Diggory!”

As Cedric strode towards the chamber behind the teachers' table, every Hufflepuff student sprang up from their seats, cheering and pounding their feet in excitement. The ovation went on for so long that Dumbledore was forced to pause briefly before he could speak again.

“Excellent!” Dumbledore exclaimed with joy once the noise settled. "So, we now have three champions. “I am confident that I can count on all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions all of your support. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real —”

However, as Dumbledore cut himself off mid-sentence, it became evident to those present what had diverted his attention.

The fire within the goblet had once again flared red and tiny flames were bursting from it in various directions. A lengthy flame shot upwards, bearing along an additional piece of parchment.

Dumbledore extended his hand and seized the parchment, raising it aloft as he scrutinized the name inscribed upon it. As the room waited in silence, Dumbledore contemplatively examined the note in his grasp, while all eyes remained fixed upon him. Ultimately, with a throat-clearing, Dumbledore readout —

“Harry Potter.”

You already knew how everything had gone down. Harry was forced to participate in the tournament, and Ron was fuming with him as he had not believed his friend's denial of putting his name in the goblet. Since then, he had been giving him the silent treatment.

The rest of Hogwarts seemed to be against him as well, and they took every opportunity they had to make it clear that they supported Cedric and not him.

This behavior did remind you of your high school in New York. Apparently, fiction was not far detached from reality.

“Hey, America,” you rolled your eyes at the nickname.

“What do you want?” You were surprised, when you turned around, to only see one redhead. You wonder where George was, or if he was hidden somewhere nearby and you were about to be pranked.

“No pranks for the lady today.”

You wanted to smack your face for speaking your mind aloud. Instead, you repeated your question, “What do you want?”

Fred’s face morphed into a serious expression. “I want you to be honest with me. How did you know about Bagman, and why did you lie to George about it? You made me look like a liar.”

“Why are you still sulking on this? It’s been weeks, let it go.”

“I won’t let it go.”

As you let out a deep breath, you rubbed the bridge of your nose with your fingers in frustration. You knew he was tenacious, and he wouldn't let go of the issue until you provided him with a satisfactory answer. You'd always been a brilliant girl, so you had to think of something. And fast.

“I already told you. I have a gift,” you reiterated with a confident tone.

Fred's eyes rolled in a show of disbelief at your feeble excuse.

“No. Listen, it’s true,” you said as convincingly as you could. “It’s been a thing in our family for decades. My sister has it. My mother had it, pretty sure grandma had it as well,” you mused. “It's a gift that every Maximoff woman is born with.”

Oh my… The whopper you were dropping on him.  You didn’t even believe yourself, so how could you expect him to?

When you caught Fred's blank stare, you figured he wasn't going to buy your story. Without hesitation, you spiced up the lie to make it sound more convincing.  “When we touch someone, we can glimpse inside their soul and thoughts. When I held your hand at the Black Lake I saw you and George at the World Cup, I saw the bet you made with Bagman. I saw how he duped you.”

Fred's face began to show an increasing sense of surprise with each word you said.

“I’m not a seer. I cannot see the future.”

Despite everything you had unfolded, the older twin remained unsatisfied with your answer and pressed for more proof to be presented.

“What do you want me to do?”

He reached out his hand for you. You gazed at it, then at him, perplexed. “Take my hand. I want you to tell me what more you see.”

You lifted your brow at his mistrust, but you took his hand nonetheless. Your small hand was wrapped around his large fingers once again. You shut your eyes and began to perform your role.

While you pretended to be focusing, your thoughts were actually buzzing with potential things to say to him. This time you weren't messing with him; instead, you wanted him to believe you had a gift.

A moment later, your eyes fluttered open and you released his hand.

“Well?”

“You dropped one of your and George’s ton-tongue toffees on the Dursley’s floor and Harry’s cousin picked it up and ate it. His tongue looked like a great python,” you smiled, “Nice one, by the way.”

Fred's eyes grew wide. “Oh, and I know your mom isn’t very fond of — what was it the name?” you pretended to think about it, “Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes! I'm sure she'll change her mind once she sees the amazing things you and George have invented.”

“How do you even —”

“And, I know you put bulbadox powder in Keeneth Towler’s pajamas last year. He erupted into boils! Honestly, Fred. What did the poor guy do to you?”

Fred found himself at a loss for words.

“Do you believe me now?”

He nodded quietly, his gaze fixed on you.

“Good.”

You were ready to leave when Fred grabbed your arm. Obviously, this conversation wasn’t done for him.

“And now what?”

“Why did you not admit this to George?”

“Because it’s meant to be a secret. I can't go around shouting it from the rooftops.”

“You told me.”

“Yeah, Because you can be so incredibly annoying.”

That made him smile broadly. Not taking it as an insult but as a compliment.

“I guess you expect me to keep your secret.”

“That would be very thoughtful of you.”

But you knew it wouldn’t be that simple. It never was when it came to Fred Weasley.

Avengers Compound, New York City, USA, 2016

You strode into the room with anger bubbling inside, and hurled your backpack carelessly onto the floor. You slammed the door shut, not caring that your sister was coming up behind you.

You were seething with anger. Angry at the stupid people in high school, angry at that entitled brat Ashley Miller, and you were especially angry at Wanda.

Without even bothering to knock, your sister stormed into the room, a matching angry expression visible on her face.

“Like she had a reason to be mad,” you thought.

She just stood there, without saying anything or moving a muscle. Her arms were tightly folded across her chest, and her gaze was unwaveringly focused on you. If she was expecting an apology from you, she had another thing coming.

She looked at you expectantly. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

You shrugged, indifferently. “What do you want me to say?”

“Are you serious right now, Y/N?” she asked you incredulously. “Do you realize what you’ve done?”

There it was again. ‘What you’ve done’. It was always what you had done. Never what others had done to you. That never seemed to matter to her. Or to anyone else.

“She deserved it.”

Wanda gave you a disappointed look, and even though you didn’t show it, it pierced you.

“Why can’t you just behave for once?”

“I have to behave?” you snapped. “What about them? Why do they have to be a bunch of assholes?”

“Same old story again, the world is to blame, and you’re the victim.” Wanda’s voice was dripping with sarcasm, hitting the perfect note of mockery you knew she was clearly aiming for.

“You didn’t even care to ask me what happened.”

“I couldn't care less what happened, Y/N. Nothing justifies what you did.”

“Yes it does!”

“I will not justify your actions any longer. You’re not a child anymore, so quit acting like one.”  Wanda’s words were sharp. And they hurt. They hurt a lot.

You bit your cheek. You weren’t going to cry. Crying is for weak people who lack emotional control.

You were unbreakable.

“Well, I’m sorry I’m not the perfect sister you wished for. But what I’m not sorry for is not letting a bunch of spoiled morons treat me as if I’m less than them, 'cause I’m not.”

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland, Great Britain, 1994

You caught up with Ron and Harry as they were exiting Trelawny’s class, and a few seconds later Hermione joined the group.

“How are classes going, Y/N?” she asked you brightly. “Are you adapting well?”

“Oh yeah, I adapt very easily to changes.”

Lie.

You arrived at the entrance hall, which was crowded with people queuing for dinner. You and the Golden Trio had just joined the end of the line when a loud voice rang out behind you.

“Weasley! Hey, Weasley!”

When you turned around, your eyes fell upon Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle who were all standing there, each with a look of utter delight on their faces.

“What?” Ron asked.

“Your dad’s in the paper, Weasley!” Malfoy said, waving a copy of the Daily Prophet and speaking loudly enough for everyone in the crowded entry hall to hear. Malfoy straightened the paper with a flourish and read on:

ᴀʀɴᴏʟᴅ ᴡᴇᴀꜱʟᴇʏ, ᴡʜᴏ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴄʜᴀʀɢᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴘᴏꜱꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴ

ᴏꜰ ᴀ ꜰʟʏɪɴɢ ᴄᴀʀ ᴛᴡᴏ ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ ᴀɢᴏ, ᴡᴀꜱ ʏᴇꜱᴛᴇʀᴅᴀʏ ɪɴᴠᴏʟᴠᴇᴅ

ɪɴ ᴀ ᴛᴜꜱꜱʟᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ꜱᴇᴠᴇʀᴀʟ ᴍᴜɢɢʟᴇ ʟᴀᴡ-ᴋᴇᴇᴘᴇʀꜱ

(“ᴘᴏʟɪᴄᴇᴍᴇɴ”) ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴀ ɴᴜᴍʙᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ʜɪɢʜʟʏ ᴀɢɢʀᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ

ᴅᴜꜱᴛʙɪɴꜱ. ᴍʀ. ᴡᴇᴀꜱʟᴇʏ ᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀꜱ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʀᴜꜱʜᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ

ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɪᴅ ᴏꜰ “ᴍᴀᴅ-ᴇʏᴇ” ᴍᴏᴏᴅʏ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɢᴇᴅ ᴇx-ᴀᴜʀᴏʀ

ᴡʜᴏ ʀᴇᴛɪʀᴇᴅ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪɴɪꜱᴛʀʏ ᴡʜᴇɴ ɴᴏ ʟᴏɴɢᴇʀ ᴀʙʟᴇ

ᴛᴏ ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪꜰꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴀ ʜᴀɴᴅꜱʜᴀᴋᴇ ᴀɴᴅ

ᴀᴛᴛᴇᴍᴘᴛᴇᴅ ᴍᴜʀᴅᴇʀ. ᴜɴꜱᴜʀᴘʀɪꜱɪɴɢʟʏ, ᴍʀ. ᴡᴇᴀꜱʟᴇʏ

ꜰᴏᴜɴᴅ, ᴜᴘᴏɴ ᴀʀʀɪᴠᴀʟ  ᴀᴛ ᴍʀ. ᴍᴏᴏᴅʏ’ꜱ ʜᴇᴀᴠɪʟʏ ɢᴜᴀʀᴅᴇᴅ

ʜᴏᴜꜱᴇ, ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍʀ. ᴍᴏᴏᴅʏ ʜᴀᴅ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ ʀᴀɪꜱᴇᴅ ᴀ ꜰᴀʟꜱᴇ ᴀʟᴀʀᴍ.

ᴍʀ. ᴡᴇᴀꜱʟᴇʏ ᴡᴀꜱ ꜰᴏʀᴄᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴏᴅɪꜰʏ ꜱᴇᴠᴇʀᴀʟ ᴍᴇᴍᴏʀɪᴇꜱ

ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴇꜱᴄᴀᴘᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴏʟɪᴄᴇᴍᴇɴ, ʙᴜᴛ ʀᴇꜰᴜꜱᴇᴅ

ᴛᴏ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ ᴅᴀɪʟʏ ᴘʀᴏᴘʜᴇᴛ Qᴜᴇꜱᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴡʜʏ ʜᴇ ʜᴀᴅ ɪɴᴠᴏʟᴠᴇᴅ 

ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪɴɪꜱᴛʀʏ ɪɴ ꜱᴜᴄʜ ᴀɴ ᴜɴᴅɪɢɴɪꜰɪᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴏᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴀʟʟʏ ᴇᴍʙᴀʀʀᴀꜱꜱɪɴɢ ꜱᴄᴇɴᴇ.

“There’s even a picture!” Malfoy stated as he flipped the page over and held it up. “A picture of your parents outside their house — if it can be called that! Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn’t she?”

Ron was trembling with rage. Everyone in the room was staring at him.

“Stuff it, Malfoy,” Harry said, “Come on, Ron…”

“Oh yeah, you stayed with them this summer, didn't you, Potter?” Malfoy sneered, “So tell me, is his mother really that porky, or is it just the picture?”

“You know your mother, Malfoy?” Harry said — both he and Hermione had grabbed the back of Ron’s robes to stop him from launching himself at Malfoy — “That expression she’s got, like she’s got dung under her nose? Has she always looked like that, or was it just because you were with her?”

Malfoy’s pallid face went slightly pink.

“Don’t you dare insult my mother, Potter.”

“Keep your fat mouth shut, then,” Harry snarled as he turned away.

BANG!

Several people screamed, and Harry felt something white-hot scratch the side of his face. He reached inside his robes for his wand, but before he could touch it, he heard a second tremendous BANG, and a roar that rang throughout the entrance hall.

When Harry looked around, his gaze was drawn to a pure white ferret shivering on the stone-flagged floor, right where Malfoy had been standing.

There was a frightened hush in the entrance hall. Nobody knew what had happened.

You had distanced yourself from the trio at some point when the argument started, and by staying back, you blended into the sea of students and went unnoticed. As you delicately flicked your fingers, the ferret took off, soaring through the air with ease, before crashing down onto the ground with an audible thud. Despite the impact, you weren't deterred and the furry creature sprang back up into the air once again. As you persisted with your action, the sound of the ferret's painful shrieks filled the air. It bounced relentlessly, reaching higher and higher heights.

“Stinky, cowardly, scumbag asshole,” you muttered under your breath. You were sick of bullies.

The ferret haphazardly soared through the skies, with its legs and tail flailing about uncontrollably.

“What is going on here?” a shocked voice inquired.

Professor McGonagall descended the marble stairwell, her arms laden with books. She watched as the ferret leaped and jumped through the air before her eyes eventually landed on yours. As soon as she caught sight of you, your hand stopped moving and the ferret slipped out of it, hitting the ground with a thud.

She drew her wand, and with a loud snapping noise, Draco Malfoy returned, laying in a heap on the floor, his sleek blond hair all over his now vividly pink face. He winced in pain as he slowly got up on his feet.

He, Crabble, and Goyle ran off immediately, streaking for the dungeons.

“Miss Maximoff,” Professor McGonagall's harsh voice summoning you drew the undesired attention of the entire hall, which was now fixated on you. “My office. Now.”

Peter Parker and May Parker’s Apartment, New York City, USA, 2016

“You know she didn’t mean it, right?” Peter spoke, “She was just upset.”

“I was upset too. And she didn’t even bother asking me what happened,” you settled onto Peter's bed, expressing your frustration. “She just put the blame on me.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” you looked at your best friend, and you felt so lucky to have him in your life.

You and Peter had a connection you had never experienced with anyone else before. He was your first real friend, the one person who truly understood you and whom you could count on for anything.

“I would have reacted the same way if someone had insulted my mother,” he continued.

You let out a humorous laugh, “Would you have turned Flash into a rat?”

You knew Flash usually picked on Peter, but you were sure he would never stoop so low as to make a hurtful remark about Peter's deceased mother. And even if he was, Peter would never have lost control of himself as you had.

“I would have.”

You gazed at him with a puzzled expression.

“I would have!”

“You’re too nice to hurt anyone, Peter.”

And you believed this. Peter Parker was kind and caring, known for his selfless and generous nature. Throughout his life, he was always eager to help others, never once displaying any malice or ill will.

“You’re nice, too.”

“You've got to be the only one who thinks that.”

“Hey,” Peter said, placing his hand on top of yours, “Ashley had it coming. You never let anyone walk all over you, and you always protect the ones you love. That’s so freaking admirable. You are admirable.”

“You know, Wanda is everything I aspire to be one day. And I want her to be proud of me, but I just feel like I’m a constant disappointment to her. No matter how hard I try, it seems like she only sees my flaws,” you swallow the lump in your throat, chest trembling in anticipation at the words you’re going to utter, “Sometimes… Sometimes I think she wishes I was the one who died that day, instead of Pietro.”

“Don’t say that, Y/N,” Peter gasped, his face contorting into a horrid expression of shock and disbelief.

“It’s true,” you said, “They were twins. They had a special bond that she and I would never share.”

“Wanda loves you, Y/N,” Peter tried to reassure you. He was determined not to allow any doubt to arise in your mind regarding the love that your sister has for you. He knew Wanda wasn't perfect and she had messed up by refusing to listen to your version of the story. However, that didn't mean she didn't care about you, or that she hoped you'd died instead of Pietro. “You’re her whole world. You’re the only family she has left. You’re her little sister.”

“A child she has to keep justifying actions for.”

The echoes of her words reverberated in your mind, leaving a lasting impression.

“No. A little sister she feels she must protect and for whom she wishes the best,” Peter interjected, kindly correcting your statement. “She doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

You shifted your gaze towards your friend, the realization dawned upon you that Peter had your best interests at heart. His genuine concern for your well-being touched you deeply, prompting you to open up after all these years of shielding yourself from emotional vulnerability. As the overwhelming wave of emotions crashed down upon you, a sob escaped your lips, highlighted by shimmering rivulets of tears flowing down your face.

Peter swiftly embraced you, and you clung onto him as if he were your sole anchor for survival. You buried your teary face into his chest, releasing all the emotions you'd been repressing for who knows how long.

[alotofpockets]

Her necklace | Yelena Belova

Pairing: Yelena Belova x Platonic!Reader

Summary: After Natasha's death Yelena started wearing her necklace. When she loses it, it's like she lost the last piece of her sister. You help your sister in law try to find it.

Word count: 1010

Warnings: sadness, loss of Natasha (past).

masterlist | requests: closed | taglist

A ding from your phone takes your concentration off of your current task. You check the screen and see it’s a message from Wanda.

Wanda: Hey y/n, can you call me as soon as you get this?

You pick up your phone to call immediately. “Hey Wands, what’s up?” You say a bit concerned because her text sounded urgent. “Hey y/n, I wasn’t sure if you’d be at work or not.” Once you reassure her that you’re just doing some house chores she goes on. “ I was wondering if Yelena spent the night at your place?”

“She didn’t, is everything okay?” You reply. “I’m not sure. No one saw her come home last night and she wasn’t at the team meeting this morning. I was hoping she came to you, we’re worried about her. Any idea where she might be?” Wanda explains the situation. You think for a bit before saying, “I might know somewhere. I’ll go check right now, keep me updated? Bye Wands.”

You hang up the phone and grab your keys to leave, within a couple minutes you were out of the door and into your car.

After your wife Natasha had sacrificed herself to save the world you and Yelena grew closer through your loss. Together you would spend hours at her grave. Sometimes you’d sit there in silence and other times you told each other stories of your time with Natasha. Yelena would share things about their childhood, and you told her stories from when you were together, in the time before her and Natasha had reconnected.

So, that’s where you might find her. Once you walk onto the cemetery where Natasha was buried you see a figure at her grave. You send a quick text to Wanda.

You: I found her. Walking up to her now, I’ll keep you updated.

When you walk closer you see the tears streaming down Yelena’s face and hear the words, “I’m sorry” coming out of her mouth over and over again. Your heart broke at the sight. You move closer and sit down next to her. At first you don’t speak, as a way to give Yelena space. With your eyes fixated on all the pictures, letters, flowers, candles and stuffed animals people had left at your wife’s grave. If only she could see how many people had loved her.

After a while Yelena gets up and you do as well. The next moment she’s in your arms, stroking her back. Hoping to bring her some comfort. “What happened, Lena?” You say softly, not wanting to startle the crying woman. “Her necklace, it’s gone. It’s all I had left of her, y/n. What am I going to do?”

“We’re going to find it. I’ll text Wanda to get everyone together and we will all look together at the Compound.” You try reassuring her. In the car you text Wanda and think back to when you gave her the necklace.

You and Natasha had your own apartment in New York, close to the Avengers Compound. You stayed in the apartment after her death, that way she would always be with you. Yelena lived in the Compound with some of the other Avengers. A couple weeks after Natasha’s loss you were going through her stuff, when your eyes fell on Natasha her arrow necklace.

You had thought of all the times you had seen her wear it and thought it be the perfect thing to give to Yelena, to always have a piece of her sister with her. Ever since that day Yelena had worn the necklace, you had never seen her without it.

When you get to the Compound, Wanda was instructing Steve, Sam, Kate, Clint and Peter. Telling each of them which rooms they’d be searching. You gave her a thankful smile. The whole time you stayed by Yelena’s side, not wanting her to be alone in a situation like this.

Once everyone had looked through all the rooms multiple times and the necklace still wasn’t found, you had called it a night. Yelena asked if she could stay at your place for the night, to be surrounded by some of Natasha her stuff. “Of course, Lena, you know you’re always welcome.”

It had been a couple of days since that day, and you were cleaning the house. It was then when you went to vacuum under the guest bed that a shimmer caught your eye, there it was. You dropped the vacuum and ran for your car.

When you arrive at the Compound you ask the first person you see, “Where is Yelena?” When they tell you she’s probably in the training room you start running again. Yelena looks at you with a question look once you enter the room. “Why are you out of breath?”

You take a second to collect some air to breath properly and lift your hand up in the air, the necklace dangling from your fingers, “I found it.”

Yelena’s widen and she’s by your side within a second. A tear escapes when she reaches out for the necklace taking it from your hands. She holds it close to her heart and give you a hug, “Thank you so much, y/n.” You smile and hug her back, “I’m glad we found it. Want to have lunch with Nat and show her?”

At Nat’s grave you both sit down with some sandwiches. You and Yelena reminisce about Natasha like always and tell Natasha the crazy story of her necklace.

“Hey, Lena. You know you never have to ask to come over right? I gave you a key, so you’d always have a place to go to be around her. And when I married Nat, you became my sister too. We’re family, which means you don’t have to do any of this alone, okay?” You say as you look at a picture of Natasha that was placed next to the stone. Yelena’s eyes water again, “You see me as your sister?” You bump your shoulder to hers, “Yeah, you’re my little sister Lena.”

~

Main taglist:

@yellowvxbes // @xxromanoffxx // @xxxtwilightaxelxxx // @wandanatvoid // @wandaswifeyforlifey // @marvelwomen-simp // @snooy245 // @peggycarter-steverogers // @wandas-slut-heart // @nats-dreamland // @annephobic // @laaurrel // @catasha // @t00manyfand0ms // @multifandomlesbianic // @bandit2029 // @avengerswriter4eva // @gigistylestomlinson // @snowdrop1026 // @sylvies4ever // @youreatotalposer // @mellowladyangel // @milfloverslut // @natasha-danvers // @lyak12 // @smallestavenger // @when-wolves-howl // @svftpetker // @la-reine-des-enfers // @official-chaotic-wandamaximoff // @b0r3d-s1mp1ng-b1tch // @bubblensqueak002 // @imabee-oralizard // @rafecameronswhore // @be-missed // @romaaa28 // @iamsorrydidisteponyourmoment // @youralphawolf72 // @maia-lightwoood // @rootbeerfaygo // @elliesayshello869 // @vllowe // @princessprudy // @nightingalexx

Yelena taglist:

@ailenepuff // @mellowladyangel // @kacka84

[wander-wren]

wren’s 100% correct warrior cat names opinion

was talking about this on a server so i figure i might as well throw it up on here as well. every few months or years i randomly get back into warriors rp and/or fanclans and ocs, which sometimes leads me to finding people with ocs whose names are technically correct (ie, they are two nature words a feral cat would conceivably know), but…not right. so why is that?

first of all, there are two elements to a name sounding right: the general flow of it/the mouthfeel, and whether it makes sense.

the first part dictates things like syllable count and what words exactly can be used. for the record, i’m approaching this from the perspective of trying to make names “feel” canon; not necessarily traditional naming, but names that aren’t jarring in the setting. most canon warrior cat names are two or three syllables long, and don’t contain words that are already compound words. i even looked this up to grab some stats:

of the several hundred canon prefixes:

4 are compound words: Bluebell, Chestnut, Milkweed, Primrose

7 are 3 syllables: Bubbling, Cinnamon, Dangling, Ebony, Juniper, Lavender, Shivering

1 is 4 syllables: Dandelion

none of the canon suffixes are compound words or longer than two syllables.

most warrior cat names, then, end up being 2-3 syllables long. the ones that are four are almost exclusively a 2&2 syllable pattern, like Goldenflower and Brambleberry. the full warriors that do have longer prefixes have 1-syllable suffixes, like Cinnamontail, Ebonyclaw, and Juniperstone, and we’ve never had an adult warrior with a compound prefix.

this isn’t to say it can’t be done—i think Primrosepetal is a solid name, for example—but you should be careful with it. Primrosechestnut is probably not a great name, because it’s very long for only four syllables and easy to get lost in, plus it seems like it has four segments instead of two. personally i think alliteration helps here as well, makes the sounds flow together better. make sure your name isn’t hard to read, either, like how Rumbleadder creates the word “lead” in the middle that can be confusing.

years ago, i saw someone use the name Solidagoshine and i like that too. solidago is another name for goldenrod, and i think a better one because goldenrod is compound, even though solidago is longer. solidago gets through its 4 syllables with the minimum number of letters and distinct sounds for each one, so it’s easier to read, and it ends in a nice 1-syllable shine to close it off. so it’s definitely possible to have longer names under this system, don’t worry.

while we’re talking about compound words, let me also caution you against using a normal compound word as a warrior name, for example Waterlily. it’s a fine name, but it just rings a little wrong since it’s already a real word.

ONTO THE SECOND CRITERIA: whether the name makes any sense. We’ll use the name [spins wheel of nature nouns] Twilightredwood as an example. probably not a great name to go for, because twilight and redwood do not have any real conceptual link, they dont describe how the cat looks (in fact, they’re a bit contradictory, with “twilight” having a gray connotation and “redwood” having, well, red, or maybe brown), and they don’t really hint at the cat’s personality or skills. maybe twilight could imply calm and redwood could imply steadiness or strength, but it’s not obvious.

those are the three criteria i use for a name’s meaning. just about every canon name fits into one or more of those categories. we all know that cats named Graystripe, Redtail, and Blackfoot have specific patterns. names like Mothwing and, dare i say, Twigbranch, are made up of two linked concepts. Other names like Hawkfrost, Leafpool, and Rootspring may not point to a specific physical trait or make any sense as linked concepts, but they outline the character’s personality or skills (Leafpool’s is technically a nod to the Moonpool, but I’d argue that the “pool” image is calm like she is, so it still works).

now that starts to lean more into traditional naming, but i don’t think every prefix/suffix has a set meaning or rules. “snow” could mean soft, gentle, playful, for one cat and cold, uncaring, even deadly for another. you could have a white cat with the Oak prefix if you meant it as strong and steady as opposed to bark-colored.

again, i’m not the name police. ultimately, do whatever makes you happy. i have ocs named Briarbee and Swiftdove and Crowflight and Lichendust, but i also have one named Rhododendronsnap. so, uh. how much room do i have to talk. actually, ironically, i think the only one there that might not follow my own rules is Lichendust. what does that mean.

[wardenred]

Whumptember 19: "You are not a hero."

I'm once again not sure if this even fully qualifies as whump, but... it's implied? :D

"You are not a hero. You’re a child playing dress up. Now take off that silly mask and go home."

Charlie's heart was done trying to break through their ribcage and proceeded to flutter somewhere in their throat. They swallowed several times in a row, trying to recover their voice. The villain was already turning away, ready to stalk off into the night, but his words kept echoing in Charlie's skull: matter-of-fact, barely laced with disdain.

This was their chance. They couldn't let their anxiety blow it for them. They couldn't.

The villain's black-clad form was about to get swallowed by the night.

"You're right!" Charlie called desperately after him. It came out as an embarrassing squeak, and they cleared their throat before trying again. "You're right. I'm not a hero. I don't even want to be one. I've never wanted that."

For a few moments, they were so certain they were talking to the empty space. But they blinked, they took a step forward, and, miracle of miracles, the villain was still there. He had stopped, his broad-shouldered shape a faint outline in the darkest corner of the junkyard, between a useless crooked lamppost and the carcass of a long-dead car.

"How curious," he drawled after a pause so long that Charlie had forgotten how to breathe, re-learned this skill, lost it again, and became painfully aware of their uncontrollable nervous trembling. "Next, you're going to tell me that League of yours is kidnapping kids and forcing them to fight evil?"

Charlie's supervisor had warned them the villain would ask them. She had also strongly suggested not going along with it. Even though it was technically true.

"Not that I know of," they said, and hoped the way they stalled and stumbled could easily be attributed to their stupid anxiety. "I wasn't kidnapped. I—I fought to get in, actually. But I didn't do it so I could stay." Their tongue was sticking to the roof of their mouth. They had to swallow again, and then to fight against choking. "I did it so I could get to you."

"Get to me," the villain repeated, emotionless.

"Yes. You... You killed my parents, you know."

"I have killed many parents."

"I'm very grateful to you for that. Not for, you know, the many. Um. For mine. They were, they were really bad people, so. Yeah."

"There are easier ways to thank me than joining my enemies and getting sent on a suicide mission," the villain remarked. "You could have written a letter. I do read fan mail sometimes."

The night was getting chillier, or maybe Charlie had reached that stage where their body refused to process warmth. This was a ridiculous plan. It had seemed doable back in the compound, when they'd been rehearsing with their supervisor. Now, though? It was bonkers. Why they'd ever agreed to do this, they had no idea.

"It's not that. I." They swallowed once more; it was pure bile. "I want to join you. I know I've made a bad first impression, but I'm good with things that are not..." They went for a broad sweeping gesture and ended up just angling their arm weirdly like a broken robot. "This. Like computers. And numbers. I'm really good at numbers and making them make sense. And, and..." Stop, they begged themself, just stop now, you've said all you've been instructed to say, don't go off script, you know you can't improvise. "And my entire surviving family is in the League. My brother, and both of my cousins, and my aunt. My aunt is Snailscale, actually. We're on good terms."

"Is that so?"

Crap. Crap, fuck, shit, why did they have to say it?

"Yeah."

Another pause, and then, "Well, tell you what. Bring me the keys to all four Snailscale's apartments and copies of her legal IDs, for her League and civilian identities alike, and then we can continue this conversation."

They were so in over their head.

[mcrmadness]

This other day I met with an online friend, who's from the US but talks only a little bit of Finnish. So we were talking in English, and it was pretty interesting. I haven't spent hours talking English too often, and I think the last time was 3 years ago.

I noticed so many things about my own English skills, one being that I really struggle with knowing which vowels or vowel sounds to use in words. So often I noticed making the wrong vowel, and I suspect that's because of vowel harmony being such an important thing in Finnish (my first language). So it's really hard to use front vowels (a, o and u) in the same word with back vowels (ä, ö and y), as in Finnish that happens only with some loan words but never with words that originate from Finnish. (Compound words are a different story, in those it works because it's several different words and the small pause between the words makes it possible to pronounce all the vowels normally.)

Then there was one word that I was constantly trying to slip into my sentences, and every single time my brain just forgot how it's pronounced: statue. I had to ask the others up to 5 times how is it pronounced again because I just couldn't remember, my mouth just automatically started it like the word "state" and I was unable to continue the word "statue" in my head nor mouth until I heard someone else say it, or somehow managed to dig it up from my memory.

I always feel like my English would be so poor. Especially when that happens where my tongue feels like it'd lose all the touch to the English language for a second. Like, I just can't find a single proper consonant nor vowel sound from my mouth, and everything sounds so horrible and becomes just this huge mess of weird sounds that make no sense.

But I try think that something similar happens to me with Finnish all the time too. If focusing on how I speak Finnish, I actually "stutter" a lot - it just doesn't look like what it does in movies, and I don't really notice it myself unless my tongue gets so "stiff" I have to pause and actually slow down and focus on what I'm trying to say in order to get it out. Otherwise it's mainly just me repeating syllables, because they came out wrong or the letters were in the wrong order, or because I thought I was using a wrong word and realized it was actually the correct one after all and use it again. Also my grammar is often really horrible, and I do notice it myself (others notice it too) but I simply just think too quickly and speak too slowly, so I'm basically thinking about two or more things at the same time and it SHOWS.

The latter is usually what has made my social anxiety even worse in the past, especially because the more nervous I am, the more weirdly I start to talk. One key for getting over that is to notice it yourself instead of just trying to hide and wish no one noticed. So nowadays, if and when I fuck up at something I say, I usually grab it and make it bigger than it actually is, make fun of it, and boom, suddenly it's not even nearly as bad! It's weird how something, that used to be my biggest fear, can actually reduce the anxiety. Another thing I sometimes do is the keysmash but with my mouth, if I can't get a word correct. Idk, maybe it somehow lets fresh air in into my brain, and it can also reduce anxiety if it sounds funny and makes others (and myself) laugh.

But yeah. Speaking English is hard. Like, literally SPEAKING it is hard because it feels like using different muscles with my mouth and tongue. Also there are so many things about those vowel and consonant sounds that we were never ever taught at school! Just this other day alone I learnt so many things that I did not even know exist, and I really need to start watching videos that describe and demonstrate how different consonant and vowel sounds in English are made because all we got at school was the phonetics, and they neither were properly explained, ever.

[whatisonthemoon]

How Young Oon Kim Allegedly Recruited Bo Hi Pak

▲ Pictured: Young Oon Kim and Bo Hi Pak with two U.S. military, allegedly teaching them the Divine Principle

The following is an excerpt from Bo Hi Pak's "Messiah: My Testimony to Rev. Sun Myung Moon" that describes how Young Oon Kim reached out to him in order to witness to him, while they both worked on the same KMAG compound in 1957.

Then, one day, a letter was delivered to me. The sender was someone with whom I was not directly acquainted, a Miss Young Oon Kim who worked as a secretary in the KMAG chaplain’s office, which was located in the same compound where I worked. The letter’s contents were quite short, saying only, “There is a place where they discuss matters that are important to human life. Would you like to go there with me sometime?”

I telephoned Miss Kim at her desk in the chaplain’s office and told her that I was willing to go with her to this place sometime when it would not interfere with my official duties. I checked General Matthews’ calendar and made an appointment to accompany Miss Kim in the evening two days later. It was my hope that this invitation would lead me further on the pathway to the truth.

At the appointed time, I went to the place where Miss Kim had asked me to meet her, a shop in the middle of Seoul named Tonghwa Dang. It specialized in herbal medicines used in traditional Korean healing practices.

When they met up, he arrived, apparently surprised Kim had just arranged to meet with him. He consented then to an elaborate personal lecture from Kim on the first half of the Divine Principle, and by the end of this lecture he was basically convinced that her teachings were true. He wrote, "Such content of the Principle is like a bolt of lightning out of a clear sky for today's Christianity. How is the Christianity of this age going to receive such Words of God? Just thinking about this question made my heart beat faster."

Though this could very well be true, as Bo Hi Pak was actively involved in the church, demonstrating a faith or spiritual practice. Bo Hi Pak had been baptized into the Church of Christ five years prior to joining the Unification Church and even, for a moment, considered going to seminary in Columbus, Ohio, after an offer came from a minister. He decided, instead, to focus on his military career.

That said, Christian faith was commonplace among South Korean military and politicians, especially those who were in liaison positions with the U.S. Government, which Pak was since the 50s. This was partially a demonstration of commitment to western values, but for many, their faith was genuine and a vital part of their families’ history and culture. Many Koreans who fled the North due to their Christian faith were politicized, anti-communists in South Korea. Many of these Christians were also quite wealthy prior to Japanese occupation, having come from noble families that converted to either Catholicism or the missionary Protestant churches (namely Presbyterian and Methodist, but also Pentecostalism), and maintained connections to the West as well as to the Korean Zainichi community in Japan.

All of this made the North Korean’s “Marxist-Leninist” government suspicious of them, as they sought to purge Korea of individualistic, bourgeois values. 

Some of these Christians also had privileges due to their connections to the Western Church (British, American, Australian, etc.) that included greater education. For those who came from noble families, they had come from families who had been entrenched in a long history of Confucian education and scholarship, and therefore were in families where scholarly pursuits were valued. This general access to higher education helped some of these Christians integrate into the South and rebuild their lives during and after the Korean War, as well as potential allies to the occupying U.S. military. 

Bo Hi Pak himself was active in the Christian church while in the States for intelligence and military training, just a few years prior to joining the Unification Church. Perhaps this period of political upheaval, in the global struggle against communism that was in his own homeland, and his own Christian faith made him ripe for Kim’s theological presentation of Moon’s teachings, as she had done what she could to polish Moon’s theology with her own Western academic training. 

But why would Bo Hi Pak so quickly trust and take such a meeting at face value and not assume that a meeting with a woman he had never met, arranged via letter, was something... more? Especially since he was only connected to this woman through their employment on a U.S.-Korean military base. He was, after all, translating top secret meetings between U.S. and Korean military intelligence. With his intelligence training, would he be this naive and not be be suspicious of Young Oon Kim’s witnessing?

Related articles listed below

Young-oon Kim’s group purchase 2,900 gun barrels in San Francisco, August 6, 1964, and ship them to Korea. “their biggest outlet was in Japan.” – FBI report

More Questions about Young Oon Kim, and What is Clear

The Unification Church and KCIA: Some Notes on Bud Han, Steve Kim, and Bo Hi Pak

Robert Parry’s investigations into Sun Myung Moon

“The Moonies: Government Files Trace Church from Sex Cult to Korean CIA”
 Chicago Tribune, Monday, March 27, 1978

The Moon Organization and the KCIA – ‘Privatizing’ covert action

The Moon Organization Academic Network by Daniel Junas   Fall 1991

Did Young Oon Kim become an asset?

The Unification Church and KCIA: Some Notes on Bud Han, Steve Kim, and Bo Hi Pak

Young-oon Kim joined, but it ended in tears and flames Various Versions of Young Oon Kim’s Testimony Young Oon Kim and Bo Hi Pak were both employed by the Korean Military Advisory Group (KMAG) UC Member Serving in Vietnam Asks Young Oon Kim if Killing Communists in Justified Bo Hi Pak and Young Oon Kim

On Young Oon Kim’s Relationship to Butterwick

On the 1962 Reorganization of the Unification Church as a Political Tool of Japan, South Korea, and USA

Unification Church, WACL and CAUSA Were Involved In CIA Operations

Paul Perry, or Paulo-Juarez Pereira, a CIA-Connected Moonie

On Young Oon Kim’s Disciples, Early American Moonies, and the Conversion Process

Moonies Were Brainwashed by The CIA As Soldiers In The Cold War MRA-associated Weatherhead’s Influence of Young On Kim and Unification Theology

On the UC links to intelligence - excerpted from “Cults, Anti-Cults, and the Cult of Intelligence” by Daniel Brandt, in the Alternative Press Review (Fall 1994)

[almsspring2023]

Coming to a Close

Click here for my final thoughts on this ALMS course!

Now that I’ve done the work for my ALMS course it’s time to reflect on what I’ve gained along the way. In the beginning, planning all this out and thinking about the plan made me realize that I do tend to challenge my English skills on the regular, and I could put that to use for the course. I mostly interact with media in English; especially reading more complex news articles from various subjects is something I enjoy, and basically all TV series and movies I watch are in English. What I’m trying to say here is that this ALMS-aligned way of thinking has definitely helped me to find a positive and encouraging spin on my English language media consumption. ALMS helped me realize I might actually hone my skills and gain something by interacting with the language in a way that feels natural to me, and that’s pretty cool.

I did a lot of work over this course to meet my quota, and the best part was definitely the support groups. Social interaction brings so much to the learning process, in very concrete ways such as direct feedback but also in more subtle ways like picking things up from others’ work. I also got some really good tips from the group teachers that I’ll remember for later. One was that when writing a text in English, even if it feels more difficult it’s a lot less work to just start writing in English rather than first writing something in Finnish and then translating it. The languages are built differently and translation requires a lot of extra work in switching words around and thinking of sentence structures and words more natural to the other language. Another thing is that English has a lot more words overall than Finnish does. A lot of the words are shorter and phrases formed of several shorter words instead of the compound words Finnish tends to go for. There’s often more than one way to say something and more nuance to what would work best in a particular situation. I think this is something seen in practice when doing crossword puzzles in English – there’s so incredibly many three letter words!

I did a lot of the things I originally planned to do and added on some more along the way. I said I wanted to read a lot of news articles and that’s what I sure did! I also did a lot of vocabulary exercises with some translation, weekly challenges and playing different word games. I talked English a lot in the support group meetings, which really helped to improve the flow of my speech. I’ve written a lot as well, for group works but mostly for my ALMS blog! I’ve had a lot of hearing practice as well in watching and listening to miscellaneous English-language media.

Most academia work was contained in the translation group, as I besides translating I read a lot of the papers that were linked there. I did say I wanted to read an article, and I did – I actually read two very recently. But both of those were for another course, so I don’t know if they count for ALMS hours and I didn’t count them in, even if I did read them thoroughly and making sure I understand it all (with this ALMS course in mind). There’s also some stuff that I was hoping I would do but didn't manage to fit in my schedule.

I think I’ve also found some weaker areas of expertise in my English. I feel like talking a lot in the support groups has made me hone in on some of my problems, such as that I sort of mumble my words sometimes. The best way I can describe it is that I kind of scramble my speech when talking so that it comes out a little unintelligible; I say stuff but can't exactly keep my pronunciation up with my talking speed due to lack of practice. I just kind of don't have enough confidence in my speaking to say things fast clearly enough. This is something I'm trying to work on, and the support groups have definitely helped. Now that I’m done with the groups though I should maybe find something to keep it up. Speaking is a skill that’s only improved by active usage, no question of that. This is of course true for other aspects of English as well, but I think speaking is the one that I get least practice with. I don’t communicate much with foreigners and if I do, it’s mostly over text.

It’s been a road of setting different challenges but I hope I’ve also gained a lot! I enjoyed this course and the fact that it’s so easily shaped into something that benefits each student individually. ALMS has allowed me to find the way to learn English that fits me the best and hopefully gain more understanding on how to develop my language skills going forward. Thank you very much to every teacher, all of you that I interacted with were super helpful, kind, and competent!

[serendipityrogers]

Hiiii omg i hope ur doing well it’s 8 am here and i opened my pinterest and i saw this…can i request like idk thigh riding while he’s in his suit? Thanks<3

remind me again, captain || s. rogers 

summary: whatever you and steve had together was confusing but exhilarating.

word count: <2000

warning: thigh riding (<3), mentions of choking, use of ‘sir’ and ‘captain’, nickname (’bunny,’ ‘baby,’ ‘good girl’), prior consent to touching while asleep, 18+

an: im really liking this request thing, so feel free to send me one!

This thing you had with Steve, whatever you wanted to call it, was new. And you weren’t entirely sure how it started. Well, actually that’s a lie. You knew exactly how it started, he made sure you would never forget, but you weren’t entirely sure what had begun you two down this path. You honestly still dreamt about that first time, and it had been a few months since it all started.

“Blew it again, Rogers, oh sorry, I mean, Captain.” You spoke the words like they were venom in your mouth. The two of you, along with Wanda, Bucky, and Banner, had gone on a mission to retrieve some files. The files had to do with a possible answer to a string of missing people. Usually this was something the police dealt with, but not this time, this time it was other-worldly, which basically had the Avengers name written all over it.

You had quite the mouth on you, and it definitely got in the way of your relationships sometimes, but you were working on it. It was especially especially bad when you were frustrated, just like you were that night. It was multi-layered as to why you were agitated, and Steve had caught the brute force of your attitude, which he had admittedly gotten used to. But in your defense, this time he deserved it. The organization that was protecting the files had caught wind of Captain America being close by because he had to throw around that stupid dinner plate he called a shield.

When you finally got back on the Quinjet, no files, you really let him have it. The three others had gotten sick of your bitching, and walked away. That’s when he cut you off, mid-sentence. “I am the Captain of this mission, and I will not allow you to speak like that to me anymore.” His voice projected across the ship, he had reached his breaking point. You could see the vein in his forehead pulsating, his teeth were gritted, and he stepped closer to you. “So watch your mouth.” His hand landed on your shoulder, forcefully pulling you as close as he could.

“Why don’t you make me?” The words had left your mouth before you could even process them, and you hadn’t intended on making them sound so…sexual. But it ended up working out well for you. And if your words hadn’t surprised you, his next ones sure did. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”  The words made your heart race, and you could feel your panties go damp. You cocked an eyebrow at him, a sarcastic laugh passing your lips, “I always finish, Rogers.”

And that night ended exactly how you imagined.

But tonight was different.

The latest mission didn’t require your assistance, which you were actually excited about. You had been on the last seven missions, and you were tired to say the least. But the same could not be said for Steve, he was the Captain after all. Tony, Natasha, Clint, and him had been in Switzerland for the past six days, and were currently on their way back. So, to say you were needy was an understatement.

You thumbed through the most recent book Steve had recommended, trying to ignore the aching feeling between your legs and the heaviness of your eye. Your gaze shifted towards the clock, it’s red numbers glaring back at you, 11:39pm. You promised Steve you would stay awake, but that was getting harder and harder to do as the minutes ticked by. And before you knew it, the letters on the pages got blurry and your eyes fell shut. The last thing you remembered was feeling the book fall against your chest.

Steve was the first one out of the Quinjet when it landed back at the compound. He mumbled something about a debrief in the morning, he had one thing, or person, on his mind, and that was you. If you thought you were desperate, Steve was beyond that. Six long days, lack of sleep, not to mention his frustration with Tony had reached its breaking point, and he couldn’t wait to take it out on you. Fuck you until you couldn’t remember your own name.

He had dreamt about you every night. The sight of your naked body seared into his brain, which he definitely wasn’t complaining about. The breathy moans that fell past your lips played on repeat in his mind. The thought of his hand wrapped around your throat, and your tiny ones holding onto his wrist begging for him to squeeze even tighter, made his suit feel even tighter in the crotch region.  

His bed desperately called for him, but he ignored it, pressing the elevator button corresponding with your floor. Luckily, only one other person lived on the fourth floor of the compound, which was Wanda. But she was rarely ever there, sneaking into Vision compound instead. For her sake, he prayed she was there tonight.

The elevator let out a loud ‘ding,’ and he finally looked at his watch to see the time. It was nearly two-thirty in the morning, and he had a hunch you had fallen asleep, which you did often after promising you would stay up for him. His boots were loud against the wooden floorboards, practically jogging to your door. He knocked, loudly, hoping to hear your voice. And not surprisingly, he didn’t.

Pushing open your door, he saw a familiar sight. Your head lulled to the side on one of your shoulders, a book open on your chest. He couldn’t help but turn soft for a moment and observe your beauty. The way your skin color popped against your neutral sheets, you hair strewn across your face and pillows, and the soft rhythm of your chest.

But this sweet feeling quickly subsided and was taken over by a more hungry side, one that had been wanting you for almost a week. So, he did what he normally did, which he had gotten consent to do previously, and approached you. His hand ran across your exposed stomach, finger tracing the hem of your sleep shorts. His bare calloused hand, disappeared further into your pants, contrasting roughly against your soft skin.

His index finger trailed between the lips of your pussy, using the underwear to collect any arousal, which there was a significant amount. He took his bottom lip between his teeth, he missed his wet you were. It made everything that much better. He could slide in and out of your so easily. You stirred in your sleep, his finger exploring past the fabric, finally feeling the wetness himself. Your eyes were screwed together, thighs clenching together to hold his hand in place, and next a small moan fell from your mouth.

Your eyes reluctantly pulled open, and you saw a familiar sight before you. Steve hovering above you, hand deep inside your panties already. “Anxious, were we?” You chuckled, a small laugh leaving your mouth. Slowly you rubbed any remaining sleep from your eyes. He let out a dark chuckle, one that vibrated through your body. Steve didn’t give you a moment to even think before he was all over you. 

His lips pressed against yours, his usually soft lips were gone, they were rough and chapped but you didn’t let that stop either of you. He was hungry for you, and his movements said it all. He ripped the comforter off of your frame, letting his other hand wander down the side of your body, sneaking his fingers under the material of your shirt. The pads of his fingers were hard, and his worn out hand cupped one of your breasts.

A small moan passed your lips and traveled towards his ears. His thumb brushed over your pebbled nipple, back and forth making your body cave inwards. He knew you were incredibly sensitive when it came to your breast, and he used that to his advantage. His lips left yours for a moment, “I’m so tired, baby, but I want you so bad.” He murmured, eyes meeting yours. You wracked your brain for a moment, before you came up with an idea.

“Sit.” You demanded, before pressing another kiss to his lips. He listened without another word, taking a seat on your bed. This was the first time you got a good look at him. He still wore his suit, he knew you had a thing for it, so he hadn’t stopped and gotten changed before coming to see you. It was something about the muted colors against his pale skin, and the way it flattered his physique.

After untangled yourself from your sheets, you placed both your hands on his shoulders, straddling one of his thighs. “What’re you doing?” His face was full of confusion. You shushed him, and pressed your lips against his again. What you did next caught Steve off guard. He felt your panty-clad core rub against the fabric on his pants. He opened his mouth to further question you, but instead he heard you suck in a quick breath. You were enjoying this.

Taking you by the hips, he gripped them tightly, teetering on the edge of too tight. But you never minded the bruises. Forcing you further down on his thigh, slowly grinding against him. Soon this wasn’t enough for Steve, he wanted to hear you more. One of his hands released your hip, traveling down to your panties, and forcibly moving them to the side. Your pussy against the nylon fabric was like no other, a moan was instantly emitted from your lips.

“You’re so wet, bunny.” He could feel the wet patch growing against his leg. Steve leaned back, supporting his weight on his palms. He could have watched you for hours. Your hips bucking subconsciously, your eyes begging to close, and your mouth slightly agape. “Don’t hold back, baby.” He encouraged, making warmth flood to your cheeks. “Need more.” You murmured, desperately trying to catch your orgasm.

You felt his thumb land on your lips, this caused you to open your eyes. When you caught Steve’s gaze he spoke, “Suck.” He ordered, and you listened. You took his thumb between your lips, using your tongue to circle over the digit. Once it was covered in your saliva, he pulled it from your mouth. “Good girl.”

It landed on your clit, making your body tense immediately. “If you stop, I stop.” He explained, beginning to rub in small, circular motions. It was hard to concentrate, you wanted to stop and enjoy his finger work, but you didn’t want him to stop. “Steve, I-“ He loved the way his name fell from your lips, but that wasn’t part of your agreement. “You know not to call me that.” He tutted, stopping his motions immediately.

“I-I’m sorry, sir.” You begged, the fire between your legs fleeting. “You know better than that.” He cooed, tucking a piece of hair behind your ears.” You knew you had fucked up. A feeling of dread, and excitement, washed over you. He wasn’t going to let this slide. “I was gone for six days and you forgot how to act.” He continued, his tone was condescending. If it was in any other setting you would talk back, but not now, not to him.

“I think I need a reminder, captain.”

[writerforfun]

7 Tips for Writing Clearly and Concisely

Writing can be difficult. It requires a lot of effort, time and energy, sometimes leaves you quite badly drained as well. This may leave you unmotivated to write, or you use words that tire out your readers.

Don't think this is an act! I say this from experience, I do this dumb thing too and gosh do I get annoyed by this.

One thing to remember, readers sometimes don't want wordy sentences in stories, think about it, you are reading an intense fight scene do you want a 20 words sentence? NO!

Well here are some tips to help you refine your writing in an effective way so you don't tire out your reader. Articulate clear precision as well.

1. Embrace brevity. Extra words, long words, unnecessary phrases, and contrived chapters may boost word count, but they won’t improve your writing. A writer is more effective when they make their point efficiently without resorting to unnecessary words, redundant words, and redundant phrases. Aim to communicate your point with the fewest words possible, and if your prose feels too spartan, you can always beef it up later.

2. Use words you fully understand. Many writers, especially new ones do this, I still do it time to time but the thing is we don't need it all the time. Finding big words that may sound sophisticated but that may not be precise synonyms for the simple words they’re replacing. Smart readers will spot these false synonyms. A single word can upend an entire sentence if used incorrectly. So while there’s nothing wrong with using advanced vocabulary, always prioritize clarity and precision.

3. Use technical terms sparingly. Know your audience. If you’re writing for a trade journal or sending business letters (such as cover letters for a job), it may be appropriate to use technical jargon from certain industries. But if you’re writing for a general audience, be prudent about using technical terms. Too many of them—particularly too many unexplained terms—will negatively impact the readability of your work and cause audiences to lose interest. Take note of what the most successful writers do. New York Times bestselling authors like Stephen King and Dan Brown aren’t forcing their readers to wade through a river of jargon to get to the plot. They tell stories in language that feels comfortable to most readers, and their readers show them loyalty in return.

4.Write in the active voice. In a sentence written in the active voice, the subject performs an action. “He caught the ball” is active. “The ball was caught by him” conveys the same information using passive voice, and it’s a less appealing sentence construction. Sometimes you need to write a passive sentence to accurately describe a situation, but generally, the active voice is more direct. Choose active verbs when given the chance.

5.Use qualifiers and intensifiers judiciously. A qualifier is a word or phrase that limits the reach of a statement. For instance, you could call a person the “best athlete in the world” or you could call them the “best American athlete in the world.” This sort of precision can be a hallmark of good writing, but the overuse of qualifiers can weigh down sentences with prepositions and weak language. Intensifiers can produce strong statements (such as the word “extremely” in the phrase “the weather was extremely unpleasant”), but a gratuitous intensifier can leave you with a long sentence that is needlessly wordy. If your first draft is heavy on qualifiers and intensifiers, be ready for a revision process that starts with weeding out needless prepositional phrases and extraneous words.

6.Vary sentence length. Short sentences and long sentences both have a lot to recommend them. The key is to provide your reader with variety. If your first sentence is a compound sentence with multiple clauses, make your second sentence short and simple. Amateur writers tend to fear shorter sentences, erroneously believing they’re inherently less sophisticated. To compensate for this, they end up producing one wordy sentence after another, replete with vague words. Yet many great writers, from Ernest Hemingway to Judy Blume, made their name on short sentences.

7.Watch out for nominalizations. Nominalizations are multi-word phrases that would be better replaced with a single word. Instead of using a phrase like “gave an assessment of,” just write the single word “assessed.” That way you instantly give your reader the right word without forcing them to read extraneous phrases.__

Source used: Master class article

[staywhelmedbatfam]

Reunited

~Damian Wayne/Reader~

Summary: You had thought things were going well between you two. That is until he up and left the city without a single word. When he suddenly appeared one night, you made it your mission to get answers.

Hello all! It's been a while since I've posted any fics. The spring semester was kicking my butt and my work is really lacking in employees (as I'm sure a lot of other places are) so I didn't really have time nor the energy to get a lot written. On top of that, I've got plenty of one shots started but no idea how to end them😅

I wasn’t really sure how I wanted to end this one, but I think it’s satisfactory. Enjoy!

***

“Damian?” you asked in a tone of disbelief as you stared at what you thought was his back. He stopped in his tracks but didn’t turn around. A blade quickly found its way to your throat, dangerously close to breaking the skin.

“You will only address him as The Demon’s Head,” the blade wielder growled.

You kept your focus on the person unknown to you, watching from your peripherals, as Damian turned around. Many emotions overcame you now that his identity was confirmed. He raised his hand and made a gesture while walking forward. The blade lowered, the wielder taking a step back from you. With your life no longer in immediate danger, you shifted your gaze to Damian.

His eyes bored into yours as he got closer and finally came to a stop a foot in front of you. He briefly looked away while he spoke to his subordinate, “Leave us.” As they were leaving, Damian’s senses remained alert until he was sure they had exited the room. Now that the two of you were alone, his facial expression softened as his hands came up to hold your face.

“Dam–” you started, only to be cut off by lips meeting yours. Melting into the kiss, you squeezed your eyes shut and your hands found their way to his chest. Tears began to run down your cheeks.

He pulled away all too soon for your liking. Wiping the tears from your face with his thumbs, he continued to hold your face and you stared up at him. “(Y/N)… I apologize for leaving so suddenly. I should have told you. I’m so sorry, Beloved.”

“It’s been months, Damian. I thought something terrible had happened to you, but I never heard from your family. When I finally asked them, they told me you’d left. They never mentioned anything to me because they thought you had said something to me already,” you expressed, eyes shining with new, unshed tears. “And they didn’t get into specifics either. Then I see you and, suddenly, I have a knife to my throat. What in the world is going on?”

“I never imagined this would be how I tell you about any of this. Me leaving without a word was supposed to be the best way to protect you, but I ended up hurting us both instead.” He shut his eyes in anguish for a moment and let out a sigh before continuing. “My mother and grandfather were part of a group called The League of Assassins. I was raised in the League, training to become the perfect soldier and succeed my grandfather as leader. As you know, I went to live with my father at ten years old. The only reason I did was because of an attack on the League’s compound. Mother thought that was for the best at the time. Father never even knew I existed until we showed up in Gotham. While I lived with him, he showed me a better way than what the League had instilled in me. I ended up patrolling the city as Robin alongside him.

“When Mother came to take me back, I decided I would remain in Gotham. The first couple of years in Gotham were rocky, to say the least, but I eventually came to like it. Then you came along. I was instantly drawn to you, no matter how much I told myself I wasn’t interested in any kind of relationship – romantic or platonic. You lit up every room you walked into with that bright, gorgeous smile. I was in deep before I even realized it. You were the light I needed to counter all the darkness in my life. Then, a couple of months before I left, my mother insinuated that she would harm you if I didn’t return to the League. I tried to delay it as long as possible, but then I realized I was only hurting you more.”

Learning all of this new information at once and overcome with emotion, you stammered, “I–I would have come with you–”

“That’s precisely why I didn’t want to tell you. The League… it’s not a place for someone as generous and kind as you, Beloved. Had you come with me, there is no doubt in my mind that my mother would have done something to you anyway because you didn’t meet her standards. Regardless, I didn’t want you to waste the rest of your life being involved with a group of assassins when I know you are meant for so much more.” He leaned down, touching his forehead to yours, and closed his eyes. You shut your eyes too, relishing in the closeness.

Opening your eyes, you sighed before speaking, “So what happens now? I don’t want to lose you again.”

“I have to leave for now, but I promise you – this won’t be the last time you see me.” Damian lowered his voice as he continued, “It’s going to take some time, but I’m working on disbanding the League.”

“Just… be careful. Come back to me in one piece.”

“Your wish is my command.” He brought you in for another kiss, this one lasting a bit longer than the first. “I love you, (Y/N).”

“I love you too, Dami.”

***

After Damian told you about everything he had been keeping secret, you talked to his family. Since then, you’ve gone to the manor on occasion for dinner or even to help with their nighttime activities when they asked. At least the help you provided them never required you to leave the safety of the Batcave.

Even though you knew the details of Damian’s whereabouts now, you were still anxious. He had promised you that you would see each other again. That didn’t stop you from worrying or missing him. You felt empty without him beside you but pushed through each day with the thought that no news was good news.

As time passed, so did special occasions like birthdays, Valentine’s Day, and your anniversary. On the day of each occasion, you received a bouquet of your favorite flowers. Sometimes there was no occasion. You would cry every time, but the flowers weren’t the cause of your tears. No, it was the hand-written note that always came with the flowers. Just seeing Damian’s handwriting was enough to bring tears to your eyes. His words made you cry even harder.

After the first couple of notes, you bought a keepsake box and a journal. The notes got put in the box and you wrote a new entry in the journal after each one. Sometimes you would write an entry even when there was no letter – when you felt like you missed him more than usual.

Your coworkers tried to set you up with someone at one point until you told them you were in a long-distance relationship. They seemed to understand but were confused since you never talked about him. The longer this went on, the more skeptical they became. Questions were asked and you tried to answer them as best as you could without telling them anything they shouldn’t know.

“Seriously, it’s complicated. The circumstances we’re under don’t really allow me to share anything. I appreciate your concern though,” you told them right before leaving work for the day. They all watched you leave and gave each other worried glances.

When you returned to your apartment and unlocked the door, you set your purse and keys down on the entryway table then kicked off your shoes. Letting out a heavy sigh, you entered your bedroom and changed out of your work clothes into something more comfortable. That ended up being shorts and one of Damian’s sweatshirts that you took from his room a few months ago when you were at the manor. You tried not to wear it too often so his scent would last longer. Today, you just felt like you needed to be wrapped up in it.

Exiting your room, you headed for the couch to sit down and watch one of your weekly shows. You almost made it to the couch when a voice made your anxiety skyrocket and your heartbeat speed up.

“You always did look better in my clothes than I did.”

Whipping your head in the direction of your balcony, your eyes began to water. Damian stood inside your apartment, dressed as Robin. “I’m not dreaming, am I? It’s really you?”

“It’s really me, Beloved,” he replied with a serene expression on his face.

Running to him, you wrapped your arms around him and buried your face in his chest as the tears spilled down your cheeks. He hugged you tight and placed a kiss on the top of your head.

“I’m sorry it took so long,” he whispered against your hair.

You shook your head against his chest. “You’re here. That’s all I care about.”

***

I was thinking about doing something extra with the notes and the journal. Is this something you guys would like to see? Let me know! I appreciate any comments!

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[maximoffcarter]

Time goes by.

Pairings: Natasha x reader (frienship), Wanda x reader.

Summary: After the snap, y/n and Natasha tried to move on with their lives as hard as it is; y/n misses Wanda terribly, but knows Natasha is always there by her side. But what happens when she's not anymore?

A/n: I don't know where this came from, but I ended up writing it in a depressive moment and it came out like this. At first I thought it didn't make sense but I wanted to share it with all of you. Also, I feel like I'm preparing myself again to say goodbye to Nat...but yep. I'm running out of ideas even if I still have some requests and some more to post, so if you have any requests, my ask and messages are open!

Y/n had always been an optimistic girl, always trying to push people to do their best, always trying to get them to do whatever they wanted to do and always with a smile on their face, she was sometimes that annoying girl that always tried to make things better for everyone; to say the least, she was the opposite of Natasha. Not that she wasn’t positive, but Natasha had her own way to show things, she was a badass, while y/n tried her best to not show that side of her, unless they were on missions. Natasha had been a sister to her since forever, missions together, sometimes with Clint, but they always stuck together, supporting each other and being the people they needed there.

Natasha had been the one to get y/n out of that dark place she always had to be in, doing missions she had never wanted to do, or just being in places she didn’t want to stay in. Joining the avengers had seemed pointless, she had wanted a normal life out of anything that had to do with fights or missions, but she would do it for Nat. And thanks to that, she got to meet Wanda, even if it took her a very long time to really get to tell her about her feelings, it had been worth it; also all the pushing and long talks with Nat, she had helped a lot.

So when Thanos happened, of course Natasha was always there for y/n, and y/n was there for her. It was the two of them for a while, Clint had disappeared, Steve tried to keep living his life in his own way, Tony was nowhere to be found, Bruce also disappeared, and the rest…they were all gone. They both tried to get any idea, any plan to get them back, but it wasn’t easy, so on some days they just decided to keep living and have their own little fun, even if they always ended up crying together. Y/n missed Wanda terribly, Natasha knew that, but y/n always tried to hide it.

When they finally got a plan, it almost seemed like Natasha knew what was going to happen next or as if she had expected something to happen. The day before, they had taken the time to prepare for the mission, it wasn’t going to be easy, but it was something they had agreed on doing. Y/n had spent most of her time in Wanda’s room, afraid of what may happen, afraid that it wouldn’t work, afraid of everything really. It had been years, years of suffering, years of crying, years of not having her by her side, but she was also thankful she had not been alone at all.

Y/n smiled softly as she looked around and decided to leave the room. She closed the door quietly and as she looked up, she noticed Natasha’s door room open, she made her way to the room and smiled softly as she found Natasha sitting on her bed. She slowly made her way in and closed the door behind her, making Natasha look up at her.

“Do you think it will work?” Natasha asked quietly.

Y/n shrugged. “We can only hope.”

Natasha nodded as she offered a tired smile. She padded the empty space beside her as she laid down. Y/n joined her a few seconds later and looked up at the ceiling just like Natasha, suddenly feeling Natasha grabbing her hand and intertwining their fingers.

“Do you remember that one mission where we had to stay in Mexico for a few days and we stayed near this beautiful beach? Every night we would go lay on the sand. We barely got any sleep for how painfully annoying the mission was.” Natasha chuckled softly.

Y/n joined her and nodded. “We also had a lot of tequila. It wasn’t that bad.” She grinned as she looked at Natasha, biting her lip softly. “Are you afraid?”

Natasha looked at her and smiled. “I don’t know. I want to believe that everything will be okay, that we will get everyone back.”

“But?”

Natasha smiled. “But we never know what can happen.” She sighed. “But also, you’ll get your witch back. I know you miss her more than anything.”

“I do. And that’s what makes me happy about all this.” Y/n smiled. “But something just doesn’t fit right.”

“Aren’t you miss ‘it’s all gonna be great guys! We can do this!’” Natasha mocked her as they both laughed.

“Ass.” Y/n laughed. “I mean yeah but…everything has changed in these past years. I’m afraid.”

“Everything will be okay.” Natasha smiled as she leaned in and kissed y/n’s forehead. “We’ll be okay.”

That night, both of them had gone to sleep with a clear mind, after many hours of laughter, jokes, memories and just talking about anything they could think of. It had been a night to remember for both of them. They had slept throughout the whole night, y/n in Natasha’s arms, both of them finally feeling like things could really get much better, and soon everything would go back to normal; it had finally been a peaceful night. The next day, everyone prepared what they needed to go ahead with the mission, they all had been serious at first, focused on the things they were doing. Natasha and y/n found each other before they all reunited and for some reason, y/n felt the need to hug Natasha, no words needed.

Space seemed to be the best place they had gone to so far, it had been the best experience they had, until they got to Vormir. Everything had happened too fast, they didn’t have time to think things through, not when both of them were stubborn. The last thing y/n remembers was trying to hold Natasha’s hand tightly to stop her from falling, Natasha looked at her with love and sadness at the same time,

“N-Nat…don’t do this to me. Don’t leave me!” Y/n cried out.

The last words she heard were ‘it’s okay’ and ‘I adore you’, the next thing happened too quickly, a scene she didn’t want to remember. She woke up in water surrounding her, she sat up confused until she noticed the small stone on her hand, bringing memories back to her. She sobbed uncontrollably as she looked down at the stone, she had lost Natasha, she wouldn’t be able to bring her back. She yelled at the top of her lungs as she cried; if this didn’t work, she was going to be heartbroken.

____________________

It felt selfish. It felt selfish to feel a little happiness in her. It felt selfish to smile. It was hard, but she couldn’t help the happiness she felt as soon as she saw Wanda. After the battle, after them winning, she ran to Wanda and hugged her tightly, crying as she buried her face on Wanda’s neck, crying tears of happiness mixed with sadness. She couldn’t get any words out, she couldn’t really talk about it right now, but she knew that after this, it was going to be hard to hold it in together.

They barely talked when they went back to safety, no words were needed when they both knew what was going on in their minds. They both showered together, and Wanda held y/n the whole time, she could feel her pain, she could feel the sadness and it made her feel the same way because even if she wasn’t as close to Nat as y/n was, she still loved Natasha, she had helped her through so much and she couldn’t believe either that she was gone.

The next day, Tony’s funeral happened. It was unbelievable to think that they had lost two members, they both sacrificed their lives to save the world. Y/n said nothing, just kept holding Wanda’s hand and she stood by her side the whole time. They both had gone back to their hotel room, y/n wanting to shut down entirely, but was also scared that she would lose Wanda too, so she pulled Wanda with her to bed and hugged her close to her, never wanting to let go.

The next few days were the same, Wanda would go get them some food and bring it back to their room so y/n would have something to eat, but she barely finished her plate and then went back to lay down, sometimes to sleep, sometimes to cry, but mostly she wanted Wanda to always be there with her. She stood up to go to the bathroom and take a shower, but even then, she always asked Wanda to join her. It broke Wanda’s heart to see her like this, she knew y/n wanted to be okay for her and wanted to make up for the time they lost, but the sadness took over her, she knew she missed Natasha terribly, she didn’t know what else to do.

____________________

Bucky had brought the last things that he had found in the mess of the compound, recovering some clothes or belongings that were buried but remained in a good state after the whole disaster, it had only been a box and some stuff he had gotten for both women. He was worried about y/n but also didn’t know what he could do for her or how to help Wanda. As Wanda went back to the room, she found y/n still asleep, giving her the chance to look at what Bucky could recover, mostly they were clothes that now seemed to be clean, she then found a letter that had Wanda’s name, but decided to leave it at the end. Her eyes then laid on something that she didn’t think she would see again, not after the disaster that was left in the compound.

She looked up at y/n and noticed she had started to wake up. She smiled sadly as she laid back the item inside the box and walked to the bed, laying down beside her and kissing her forehead softly.

“Hi, moya lyubov.” She whispered softly as she kissed her nose.

Y/n offered a small smile. “Hi.” She whispered back.

“Did you sleep well?”

Y/n shook her head. “I had a nightmare. But I couldn’t wake up.”

Wanda nodded softly. “Well, you’re back. With me.” Wanda ran her hands through y/n’s hair and leaned down to kiss her lips softly.

“I’m sorry.” Y/n whispered against her lips as she felt tears in her eyes.

“You have nothing to be sorry about, my love. I know…I know it’s hard. I don’t blame you for feeling this way.” Wanda rested her forehead against y/n’s and sighed. “I’ll always be here.”

Y/n then smiled sadly again. “I know. And I’m glad you’re back. That you came back to me.” Her voice broke as she placed her hand on Wanda’s cheek. “You know…Nat had to deal with my sorry ass when I didn’t feel okay and when I missed you…she had to hear me cry and as much as I tried to live…I needed you. I missed you.” She confessed with a sad smile on her face. “She knew you would come back to me.”

“I’ll always come back to you.” Wanda smiled. “And I won’t leave your side. Not when you need me the most, not in your best, not in your worse. I’m here to stay.”

“I love you.” Y/n whispered softly as she pulled Wanda for another kiss.

Wanda smiled against her lips. “I have something for you.”

Y/n furrowed her brows. “What is it?”

Wanda stood up from the bed and grabbed the box she had left in the small table, walking back to the bed, and sitting down beside y/n.

“I don’t know if you remember, but when we fought Ultron, back in the tower, Pietro gave me something to wear because well…everyone was getting ready and dressed to fight, and I only had a simple dress.” She chuckled softly at the memory. “I didn’t know who it belonged to, until a badass redhead asked why I had her jacket.” She handed the leather jacket to y/n and smiled.

Y/n gasped as she grabbed the jacket, sitting up on the bed and placing it on her lap. “This is…”

“Nat’s.” Wanda smiled as she looked at y/n. “She let me keep it, I used it maybe one or two times after it.” She bit her lip. “I know it’s not much, but…it’s all yours now.”

Y/n sobbed quietly as her hand traced the lines of the jacket. “Everything was buried. I thought…I thought there was nothing left.” She hugged the jacket as more tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Well…Bucky brought the box not too long ago. Some clothes were okay, and this jacket survived.” Wanda smiled sadly. “It might not smell like her anymore but…it was hers so.”

Y/n nodded softly as she looked back up at Wanda and smiled. “It’s ours. I’m sure she protected it for us, as lame as it sounds. She would laugh at me for saying that.” Y/n laughed softly, a genuine laugh after so long.

Wanda chuckled softly and nodded. “I’m sure.” She bit her lip softly as she looked back at the envelope. “There’s also…there’s this thing that…has my name. I just…I didn’t know if I could open it.”

Y/n furrowed her brows as she looked inside the box. Her eyes widened as she grabbed the envelope. “Oh my god, I didn’t…” She smiled widely. “She really did protect these things.” She whispered softly.

Wanda furrowed her brows as she looked back at her. “Is it important?”

Y/n smiled softly as she handed it back to Wanda. “After 2 years, Nat and I went on a road trip just to clear our minds and be away from the compound. We drove until we got to New Jersey and we got to this small…town.” She smiled at the memory. “We uh…we drove around, and we saw all these houses and there was an empty space.”

Wanda looked down at the envelope and opened it as y/n spoke, her eyes scanning what it had inside, her heart stopping for a moment.

“As much as Tony was upset and wanted to make his life with Pepper and Morgan, he still helped me, and he bought this place for us. I didn’t start the whole construction because well…I wanted it to be a thing…for us…and I-“

Wanda interrupted her as she jumped on her and kissed her lips softly. Y/n chuckled and wrapped her arms around her, kissing her back just as softly. Y/n knew she still wasn’t over the whole Nat thing, but she remembered what Nat had told her, that everything would be alright, and Wanda and y/n would be back together. So as selfish as she felt, as bad as she still felt, as much as she missed Natasha, she knew Natasha wouldn’t have want y/n to be sad because of her, she would indeed pull her out of bed just like she did many times when Wanda was gone.

After a few seconds of the sweet kiss, both women pulled away with a big smile on their faces. Y/n looked into those green eyes she loved so much and smiled, Wanda doing the same as she placed her hand on the back of y/n’s neck, caressing it softly.

“I know it’s been hard, and I haven’t been at my best. But…maybe this can help us out.” Y/n shrugged.

“We’ll get through it together.” Wanda whispered softly.

“I’m sure Nat will finally be happy to know we are going to start the house. She was desperate for me to start it but understood why I didn’t.” Y/n laughed softly as she looked back at Wanda. “But I know you won’t leave my side again, and..” Y/n licked her lips. “…we can finally have that life we talked about.”

Wanda smiled. “We can finally have it.” She whispered softly as she pulled her for another kiss.

[that-damn-girl]

(1) Daze of Pollen

(Work in Progress - 1 of 8; Slow updates)

Daze of Pollen Materlist

Pairing: (cis)fem!Reader x Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers x Sam Wilson

Words: 1800+

Warnings: None except language?

Summary:  Bucky, Steve, Sam and you are in the safe house post mission when a retrieved Hydra device activates, releasing a kind of pollen you don’t know of, but the effects of which are soon discovered.

A/N: To all my horny bitches out there, I’m sorry the first chapter isn’t smutty. I didn’t plan on keeping the entire first chapter as the intro but it just...happened. Also, This is my submission for @buckyssoul​​ ‘s Rae Hit 1k Marvel Writing Challenge. I’m sorry for the delay. Hope you like it!

It is a strange concept, really. We don't always get what we want. But  if we do, it's when we least expect it, in the most strangest of ways as well.

Call it your good luck, fate, destiny, a simple mere coincidence, or whatever. You were grateful for that night in the safe house regardless. For the first and the last time, you could say that you were thankful for a little Hydra contraption.

It all started during a peaceful dinner. You and your group of friends were relaxing after a successful mission, treating yourselves with any and all comfort food available in the safe house. The mission was anticipated to be much harder than usual; the only reason why Bucky and Sam had asked you and Steve to accompany them. Quite unexpectedly, the mission went smoothly and it seemed there was no need for the extra help they had requested. But considering the mission consisted of scoping out an abandoned Hydra base, being overly cautious was preferred than being overconfident. One never knew the levels of villainy Hydra truly possessed.

Oh, you were about to discover the truth in that statement just fine.

Bucky sat across from you on the dining table, Sam to your right. The duo played catch with a balled sheet of paper, their half eaten meals abandoned on the table. You and Steve conversed with them while enjoying your respective sandwiches.

It was true that Steve had given up his Captain America mantle to Sam, a man just as deserving of the title, but hadn't completely retired. He didn't get out on the field anymore, but used his excellent strategic skills in planning the missions sometimes, especially if it included Hydra. 

All of you would have been enroute to the Compound had Rhodey and Scott not hogged the quinjet. None of you minded though. With the four of you together, it was very much like a quiet night in with close friends. Unbeknown to you, it wasn't going to be particularly quiet much longer.

"Does it smell funny to anybody else here?" Bucky asked, pausing midway while rocking his chair. Squinting his eyes, he glanced around himself to locate the source of the smell, a deep frown etched onto his features.

Steve took a tentative whiff, you and Sam doing the same. "No pal, I don't smell anything."

"It's…" Bucky closed his eyes, taking in deep inhales. "It's faint but it's there. I'm sure of it." 

You and Sam glanced at each other, a raised eyebrow followed by a shrug. Suddenly Bucky sat up with a start, his gaze fixating on a corner of the room. Following his line of sight, you found the hard black stacked containers with the Shield logo which held the Hydra files and devices you had retrieved from the base earlier in the mission. 

"It's coming from there, I think." Bucky stood up and reached the stacked containers in only a few long strides. Before any of you could stop him, he lifted the cover to inspect its contents. 

Immediately a puff of bright yellow powder-like substance was released from the inside, as if a smoke bomb had been triggered. Bucky coughed as the coloured dust hit his senses. It didn't take long for the particles to dissipate in the air. Soon the clean air around you was shrouded with the yellow dust, leaving all of you a coughing mess.

"What is it?" You wondered, one hand waving in front of your face to get rid of the dust while the other protectively covered your nose. It was no use though. It was everywhere, the particles so fine they slithered through the gaps between your fingers. You could do nothing but inhale it as you coughed helplessly. The particles stuck to the insides of your mouth. You couldn't feel them on your tongue or the roof of your mouth, but the dryness that followed was a sure shot indication. The tangy scent of it overwhelmed your senses, making you wonder how could you have missed it.

"Look inside the container, Bucky. See what released it." Sam instructed with broken words in between the coughs.

"Fucking Hydra," Steve muttered under his breath.

Following Sam's orders, Bucky peeked inside and pulled out a wooden cube. It was small enough to be grasped in his palm. One of its faces had the ugly red symbol of Hydra painted on it. The cube was heavily cracked along the sides. Had Bucky not held onto it firmly, it would have fallen apart right then. 

Sam, you and Steve drifted closer to Bucky as the yellow dust gradually dissipated into nothing - or rather as the most of it was already inhaled by you all. The cube appeared to hold some carvings in a language you supposed was Russian. 

"I...don't...understand…" Bucky's fingers drifted across the letters as he tried to make sense of it. "Fuck!" With widened eyes, Bucky retraced the words, confirming what he had read. Throwing the cube across the room, he started pacing the room, his head hidden behind his palms. 

"Come on, man, you're scaring me." Steve said, approaching his friend.

"You should be!" Bucky yelled, all his frustrations coming out on the wrong person. He loudly groaned, rubbing his forehead, "I'm sorry. It's just that…"

"What is it, Bucky?" You asked.

Bucky looked at you, his gaze sweeping over your form. He bit his lip, an almost remorseful look coming over in his eyes. In a much softer voice, he said, "I don't know how to explain it. I don't know where to start."

"Do you know what the yellow dust we all inhaled was?" Sam asked. 

Bucky replied after a long pause. "It was a sort of pollen which Hydra had engineered." 

"Hydra modified...pollen?" You asked. The idea sounded as bizarre to you as snow in the Sahara. "What?"

"No- Well, um, yes," Bucky took a deep breath before he started explaining. "Hydra could never replicate the super soldier serum they used on me. But they needed more super soldiers. It hardly ever happened that anybody else would succeed in recreating those serums so that Hydra could steal. They decided that if they couldn't transform using the serums, they would...breed super soldiers. That's when Project Growth started. These pollen were engineered to assist in it." 

"How did the pollen assist Project Growth?" You asked, confusion dripping from your voice.

Bucky glanced at you but quickly diverted his gaze, unable to keep the eye contact. "Project Growth was about using super soldiers like me and those four others to... impregnate willing women. Conception with super soldiers is harder than usual for some reason. So they came up with this pollen to aid the process. It's an aphrodisiac. They called it sex pollen, because well, it increases one's sexl drive... by a lot. So much so that it might be fatal if the person exposed to it doesn't, you know, climax."

"What? Are we gonna want to fuck like rabbits then? Become Hydra's breeding bitches?" Sam asked, crossing his arms in front of him.

"The experiments were never successful. They did it a couple of times and it never resulted in a pregnancy. This box," Bucky gestured to the broken cube lying on the floor, "I don't know how or when but it got activated somehow." He shrugged helplessly. "I have no idea if the pollen inside it was a sample of those failed experiments or if that of a new one. Either way, we don't have long before the effects would start showing."

There was a lull in the room, the implications of what Bucky said sitting heavy on everyone's minds.

"We can keep ourselves locked in our separate rooms until it wears off to...get ourselves off." Steve's cheeks were tinged a deep shade of red as he proposed the idea.

"It's not that easy. Trust me, I've been through it." Bucky looked at Steve. "It's something about needing another person's touch; a sense of intimacy. No matter what you do on your own, it won't ever be enough. It would send you in a daze of lust, where the only thing you could focus on would be to anyhow satiate yourselves. You would desperately want another person to touch you, no matter who or what gender. You'd need them to touch you." He glanced at each one of you. "I'm sorry, but it's going to be nasty."

"So what you're saying is, it's basically fuck or die?" Sam said.

"When you put it that way…" Bucky tried to think of a better phrase but finding none, he replied, "-Well, yes."

"I don't know what to say," You crossed your hands in front of your chest. To say that you were shocked was a massive understatement. You couldn't even begin to believe that any of it was true.

Unconsciously, your gaze drifted over each of the men in the room. They all stood with a hard look on their handsome faces, lost deep in thought. You weren't sure if it was you or the pollen due to which you felt yourself get wet, your panties gradually dampening and sticking to your form. 

Truth be told, you had always wondered what being with these men would feel like, what fucking them would be like. Would Sam choke you in a sensual manner with those bulging arms of his? Would Bucky keep you pinned to the bed with his thick thighs? What would gripping America's Ass feel like when Steve would be pumping his length into you?

You bit your lip, your mind conjuring up a train of lewd images. You wondered if it all would come true that night. Though you had considered them insanely attractive since the day you had met them, you never dared to act upon any of your desires with either of them. They were your close friends, and you'd be damned if you'd destroy it for a night of pleasure.

Now though, you had no other option but to fuck them if you valued your life. On any other day you would have laughed boisterously had anyone suggested such a thing, but it was your reality right then. 

You realized it didn't have to be a necessarily bad thing though

Huffing dramatically, you stood straighter, hands falling by your sides. With a newfound confidence, you asked, "Well then, what are we waiting for?"

"What?" Steve asked, dumbfounded. 

"At one point or the other, we would eventually go crawling to someone. I don't think we'd be in control of ourselves if it would make us that desperate. Avoiding the inevitable makes no sense. It's better to start it while we are still able to make conscious decisions and consent to being with each other. At least I'd prefer that."

The men looked at each other, a silent conversation happening amongst them. Bucky asked, "Are you sure, Y/N?" 

You smiled. "I am, Bucky. If it's gonna be this way, then I'm glad it's the three of you. Are you guys sure though?"

Bucky glanced at Sam and Steve before smirking, "You bet we are, babydoll."

You walked closer to Bucky, standing on the tip of your toes as your arms curved around his neck, excitement thrumming through your veins. "Let's get this show started then."

Chapter 2

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[barnesandco]

Little Hands (II)

Series Masterlist

You, Bucky, and Anastasia pay Bruce Banner a visit. 

This is an entry for @star-spangled-bingo 2021. Word count: 1836. Square filled: “You don’t wanna know.”

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: More Sad Child. Needles, fear of. So much overthinking.

A/N: Gosh, I’m so glad I got this chapter edited in time. I hope you like it and I’m sorry for skipping out on y’all last week! To make up for it, there’ll be two updates this weekend, so look out for the next chapter tomorrow! Lmk what you thinkkkk

The Avengers Compound is every bit as spectacular as you could have possibly hoped, and yet you’re unable to fully appreciate it because of the sheer absurdity of the situation. Your hand is in the vice-tight grip of the supposed daughter of your neighbor, who happens to be an Avenger.

Said neighbor is pacing back and forth in front of you as you sit in Bruce Banner’s laboratory, with Anastasia beside you while you wait for Bruce to arrive. Ana is remarkably calm, her young features – the round cheeks, still-wet eyes – made mature by her abnormal silence. Something about her makes you think she’s used to this kind of tension. Something about her screams war-child. Perhaps this grip she has on you is the first demand she has made in a long time, the only tantrum she has ever been allowed to throw.

While you aren’t particularly experienced with children, you think you want her to feel safe with you, because it seems she hasn’t been elsewhere. Ana’s eyes flit around the room in the only behavioral indication of her youth – a childlike curiosity, shining in the face of this fancy, new place that gleams like a toy store. Every now and then, her gaze jumps back from the alien appearance of the lab to her father (?) who seems intent on wearing a hole in the tiles with his pacing.

It is beginning to wear on you: both Bucky’s pacing and Ana’s steadily increasing anxiety. He hasn’t said a word to her since he opened the envelope, only asked that you accompany him to the Compound seeing as Ana won’t go alone with him (You would have gone with him even if that hadn’t been so. Though the nature of your relationship is ambiguous at times, the strength of your friendship is not. You’ll figure this out. You won’t leave him alone). Clearly, there is some unspoken memory that has him convinced the claim in the letter is plausible. Neither of you would be here if it wasn’t.

Bucky doesn’t talk too much about his past. He has offered a few of the shattered shards of his past reflection to you in the few night-caped moments you have hammered on his door upon hearing shouts across the hall. Between that, and what you know thanks to Black Widow’s file dump, the big Avengers’ in-fight in Europe last summer, the consequent resolution to the Accords, and Bucky’s publicized pardon, you can guess at the traumas that lurk in the depths of him.

They’re traumas that are closer to the surface of his eyes now, pulled forth by this new life, this little soul that has no business with such dark things, and the implication that this holds. Ana, innocent as she may be, is an insinuation of what else might have been unwillingly torn from Bucky.

You don’t want to think about it, because it hurts to do so, because you care for him, in many, many ways. It seems that Anastasia is also starting to tire of it. With every step Bucky takes, her hand tightens on yours. Fortunately, soon, the door to your left opens, and Bruce Banner enters his lab.

He's appropriately disheveled for this hour in the morning. Under his pristine lab coat, one of his shirt buttons is done into the wrong buttonhole, but his eyes are alert, frantic even, though you get the feeling that this is a man always on the edge of escape.

Bucky lets out a breath he seems to have been holding at the same time as his shoulders tense. “Thanks for coming so early, Doctor Banner. I wouldn’t have called if—”

“You never call, so I know it must have been important. But it looks like I’ve kept you waiting anyways,” Banner says, his eyes widening as they move from Bucky, to you, to the little girl at your side. “What’s the matter? You know I’m not a medical doctor, right?” He asks, putting a work bench between himself and his visitors.

Bucky clears his throat, and doesn’t quite know how to say what he needs to. After a few more seconds of hesitation, in which Banner waits patiently, Bucky extracts the envelope containing the fateful letter from his pocket, and hands it over.

The furrows in Doctor Banner’s brow multiply spontaneously, and when he looks up, Bucky gestures with a subtle nod of his head to Ana. He has yet to explain your presence, but you think Doctor Banner is a smart man. It won’t take more than Anastasia’s tight hold on you for him to put two and two together. Sometimes, a scared child is just that, no matter how unusual.

Most of their ensuing conversation is held at a lowered volume, set by Bucky, probably out of courtesy for Ana. You can hear snatches and phrases, most of them confirmations of things you had expected and some, not so much. Lobby security cam footage… fingerprints… paternity test… serum… blood sample…

By the end of it, some facsimile of a plan seems to have evolved between the two men, because Doctor Banner turns away with a smile and you, taking it as a welcome, stand and approach him. He rounds his desk and shakes your hand, exchange introductions though he hardly needs one, and then, he crouches, the way Bucky had, and offers Ana his hand.

“Hi, I’m Bruce.”

“Ana.”

Bucky steps forward. “Anastasia—” the name is clumsy on his tongue, because he’s scared. You can see it, and you hope he knows you are, too, but you’ll stand with him regardless, “—Bruce is going to check that you aren’t sick.”

“I’m okay.”

“We need to be sure.”

“Okay.”

Banner pulls out a chair, and you’re about to sit Ana down on it, when she pushes you gently into it, and sits on your lap. You can do nothing but wrap your arms gently around her, so she doesn’t fall. The apology in Bucky’s eyes is melted with a sympathetic smile. It’s alright. A child developing an inexplicable affection for you is not the worst thing to ever happen to you.

Ana is warm and a comfortable weight on you, and you hold her as loosely as you can, feel the movement of her chest against your arms with each breath. Her hair is a mix of wool-thick and silk-soft against your chin, smelling faintly of the sugar-sweet strawberry scent found in children’s shampoos. Someone took care of her.

Someone she isn’t asking for. What kind of child doesn’t ask for their mother, past the initial, momentary heartbreak? How has she come to terms with the apparent change in custody, when the new custodian hasn’t?

Whether Bucky is to be the new guardian has yet to be determined. You can see Bruce pulling out a syringe and preparing a vial. You wonder if she’s scared of needles. Bucky flinches at the sight of them, even now. He’s said that his disdain for the cold clinicism of medicine dates back to long before Hydra. Medical equipment reminds him of worrying that his best friend was going to die. It’s the fear he has harbored longest, longer than his fear of war, of gunshots in the dark, of blood on his hands.

Ana shares it. When she sees the needle, she screams, and Bucky lunges forward to help you hold her in place. She’s so, so much stronger than you thought and while you can hold her limbs, her head thrashes about, and so does her torso, making it impossible for Bruce to get to the inside of her elbow.

In the chaos, your eye lands on a trinket on a nearby desk, sitting there like a peace offering, literally beckoning to you. “Hey, Ana,” you whisper-yell, trying not to get hit in the jaw by her head. “Do you like animals? Cats? I have a friend who has lots and lots of cats, and I could take you to see them.” It’s working. You’re out of breath, but she’s quieting. Most little kids love cats. You love cats. “I think Bruce has a toy cat. See, over there?” You dare to lift an arm to point at the maneki-neko on the table. Ana stills. Her eyes follow the hypnotic movement, and the syringe at Ana’s elbow does its job.

When the bandage is put on, you and Bucky let go with twin nervous chuckles of relief and disbelief, and Bruce puts the vial in a machine. Ana hops off to approach the desk, and bats at the paw waving at her like a mirror of it.

“We should have the results soon. I think the others are starting to wake up, if you want to say hi,” Bruce says, taking off his glasses and wiping them on the corner of his lab coat.

“Maybe later,” you say, seeing that Bucky is hardly in any position to converse casually with his teammates right now. Not to mention, it’d be a lot of work to explain Ana, especially before having any sort of confirmation of who she is.

Bucky pulls out a chair next to you while Bruce opens a laptop a few counters away, and an x-ray machine lifts its head behind Ana, who has moved on from the lucky cat, and is stroking the leaves of a flowering plant.

“Peace lily,” Bucky says, startling you. You look at him, the bags under his eyes, the way he almost looks his age right now, and fight the urge to hold his hand. “It’s the first flower I bought for my apartment. I put it in a community garden after a nightmare about the war. Didn’t feel right for me to have it.”

He's talking about the Second World War. The war always refers to his first war. You think he’s talking about peace, and not the lily, after what he’s done. After what he was forced to do.

“It’s not your fault,” is an automatic response, and never enough, especially for the war, because at least he was in his own senses, even if he was drafted. It always elicits a self-deprecating laugh, but right now, he’s too tired for even that.

Right now, he can only watch as the x-ray camera follows Ana around the room, from the peace lilies, to an Amazon elephant’s ear, to a strange sculpture made from Coca-Cola cans glued together by what looks like spider-webs.

Too soon, Bruce calls you over to his work station. You follow Bucky, one eye on Ana.

“She’s yours,” Bruce says, and Bucky inhales sharply. Now, you do take his hand, stroke the metal ridges with your calloused thumb. “But she has disproportionately more of your DNA than her mother’s.”

“What does that mean?”

Bruce wrings his hands. “She’s not a complete clone, but nearly a genetic copy. 80% of a clone, if you will.”

Bucky is growing increasingly uncomfortable, shifting next to you. “How’s that possible?”

“You don’t wanna know.”