#mcu hcs

[annachum]

OKAY I LOVE THIS SM

Or Odin can send Sigyn to stop Loki

Like

Sigyn : * shows up in front of Loki's fleets right in front of rhe Avengers *

Loki : * stops everything * My love -

Other Avengers : MY LOVE?!

Thor : * already backing away a little * Yes, they are courting -

Sigyn : * fae voice, eyes pink, and having aurora borealis force fields around her * Loki Odinson, by the power invested in the Nine Realms, I command thee to SURRENDER

Loki and fleets : * immediately surrender *

Tony : Wha -

Loki : * tries to smile * My dear, what happy chance -

Sigyn : That's enough of that! When I heard such news from my diplomatic trip to the Dark Dimension with my father, I hurried myself to Midgard and didn't even bother to change! Odin has personally sent me to fetch thee to stop this rampage on mortals!

Loki : But -

Sigyn : And your mother specifically commands thee to apologize to the mortals and are coming HOME.

Loki : Alright alright! I'm sorry and I'll do what you want....

Sigyn : * eyes turn back to normal mode * Oh and your mother told me that you, Thor and Odin shall be onto a bonding quest to * checks notes * Nornheim

Thor : You mean, I have to go with him?!

Sigyn : Yes

Thor : Very well then

Sigyn led Thor and Loki away from the equally baffled Avengers

Sigyn : * to Loki * Oh, and by the way. * embraces Loki * I'm so glad you have survived from that fall

Loki : * embraces Sigyn and kisses her *

Thor : * praying to himself and reminded that Sigyn is not one to be trifled with *

[roseamongroses]

shuriri college au!

note: im not a stem major so it might be vauge

shuri gets a crush on a girl in one of her labs (riri) and is basically trying to try her damndest to get a chance to talk

problem is riri is booked and busy nd doesn't really get that shuri (or other people tbh) are interested in hanging out so she always ends up dipping to go work on her projects

and like shuri is breaking out her super genius intellect just to get coffee with her but somehow, someway riri finds a way out of directly interacting with her

shuri gets extra tickets to movie she finds out riri's a fan of? riri has already had the tickets purchased for weeks OR she's already found a way to pirate it

shuri tries to get paired up with riri for an assigment? turns out riri has accommodations so she works individually rather then in group projects

shuri's friends think this is funny cause SHURI HERSELF is notorious for dissapearing off the face of the earth to work in the lab so whenever she complains about riri ditching her/ ignoring her they hit her with the "ohhhh???rlly???that must suck???"

at one point shuri even signs up for tutoring. but that only confused riri cause "did u lose a bet or something?why do u need tutoring u have higher grades then me???"

eventually, shuri gets to the point where shes like. fuck it. and just starts hanging out with riri without the elabroate plots + super special planned dates.

beforehand shuri was stuck trying to find ways to stand out and impress riri, but the thing is riri was ALREADY impressed with shuri.

riri just thought shuri was just being nice to her bc she's (mostly...) nice to everyone/ so she didn't want to assume anything

riri's working late hours? shuri brings her coffee, works alongside her. doesn't make a fuss of it. they start walking her back to the dorms after those late nights. in class she starts asking riri questions more, complimenting her, but again, no more schemes.

after awhile, they just kinda...click? like riri doesn't even notice how often she's starting to look forward to seeing shuri. and even starts to believe that maybe shuri is being nice to her because???she enjoys????riri's company????

soon enough riri starts to seek shuri out. excitedly calling shuri whenever she has a new idea, offering to pay for coffee the next time they're working late, staking out the financial aid office, even responding to shuri's texts in a (somewhat) reasonable time frame

when it does click for riri that she might be forming a crush (her attraction is so sporadic that she rarely pays attention to it anymore) she does panic. a bit

not because she hates the idea of dating shuri, but because she doesn't have much experience dating anyone. what if shes misreading the situation and shuri only wants to be friends? what if riri doesn't even know what she wants and just likes the attention???what if she ruins everything because of her inexperience? what if she icks shuri out and never sees her again???

yeah that wasn't a good week for her

[cut to shuri doodling their names in the margins of her notes]

anyways. when riri panics she reverts to bad habits and starts ghosting hard. self sabotage arc :)

at first shuri lets it go cause again she'd be a hypocrite otherwise. but after a certainpoint it really started to hurt her feelings cause damn she knows they aren't dating, but at the very least thought they were friendly? she gets mad, gets moody, but after awhile she gets REALLY concerned cause while riri is flighty she never does it maliciously

so for one last time, shuri does indeed cook up a scheme. said scheme is sneaking into riri's dorm and just asking her straight up if she's okay (she brings food just in case riri is actually mad at her)

and like....riri's so used to keeping her emotions and worries to herself that she isnt used to just...being asked.

so the moment she's hit with the "are u ok" girl just breaks down and spills

(riri does accidentally admit to her crush during this breakdown, but shes also revealing other stuff about herself so shuri decides not to focus on that and to just help her cry it out)

(shuri feeling some conflicted feelings cause on one hand her crush has mutual feelings on the other hand her favorite person is feeling shitty)

[insert cry sleepover sesh]

about a week or so later things have reutrned to...normal....mostly.

thing is now that riri is getting used to her attraction and wanting shuri and wanting a life outside of her lab she gets...bold.

starts slowly returning shuri's playful flirting... being more open with shuri about how she feels

shuri is not used to bold. shuri, princess of wakanda, top of her class, isn't used to being flustered or pursued so seriously, shuri's bbrain turns to mush and will never return.

shuri's friends also think this is funny

ok thats it maybe ill write more ideas later but i got an essay to submit for my final among other tings

[lanawinterscigarettes]

Wanda x reader x Natasha headcanons please, what it's about can be up to you as long as its fluff :)

I wrote some domestic headcanons because we always see heroes in action but we never get to see them just chilling yknow? Hope you enjoy <3

WandaNat x reader domestic headcanons

Warnings: fluffy goodness, brief mentions of Yelena at the end

Out of the two of them, Wanda is the only one who knows how to cook

If you do too, great, that means you can help her out in the kitchen

If not, you can join Natasha in the living room, where she's been banned from the kitchen after trying to "help" Wanda with Thanksgiving one year (you guys ended up having to get takeout because she overcooked the turkey)

Natasha is great when it comes to styling hair and doing makeup, and loves doing intricate braids in both her and Wanda's hair, and yours too if it's long enough

The three of you have contemplated getting a pet before, but with your jobs taking you out of the country a lot you decided against it

Wanda hates doing laundry because she doesn't always understand what to do and how all the buttons work, which results in her trying to use her magic to get the clothes clean and ends up making a mess everywhere

The amount of times either you or Natasha have come back from shopping to find the laundry room flooded with soapy water and sopping wet clothes is too many to count

Even though she sucks at washing clothes, Wanda's not that bad when it comes to folding laundry- a huge difference from Natasha, who throws her clean clothes into the drawer without even bothering to fold them first

While they both have thought about having kids, Wanda would be much more likely to take active steps in getting pregnant or adopting whereas Nat is content with being the fun aunt for Clint's kids

Speaking of Clint's kids, you guys often babysit for him whenever he's away on a mission or just needs a break

Wanda loves shopping for clothes and often drags you and Nat along with her so she can model them for you

Nat redyes her hair whenever she gets bored, along with yours and Wanda's help

Wanda still owns the clothes she wore during her emo phase, and sometimes she'll put them back on and smear some black eyeliner over her eyes just for you and Nat's amusement

Yelena visits whenever she can, as you and Wanda assured her that she's always welcome for being part of the family

Nat hates you for this, because this means Yelena will randomly show up whenever just for the heck of it and bother her

You and Wanda don't mind and think it's funny to see the way Nat acts whenever she's around

🏷 taglist: @anxiously-sad @iloveentrapta @ghot-girl @taecube @nevilleismywhore @xxromanoffxx @your-next-daydream

~

Main masterlist || MCU masterlist

[imgonnaragnorockurshit]

AYO ITS KISSY KISSY TIME FOLKS STRAP IN

“Matty?” he was so close they were breathing the same air.

“Hmm?” he moved forward and rubbed his nose against hers. He felt like he was going to combust. This felt like a tipping point, the last split second before he changed things between them forever. Just one more subtle movement, one last step.

“What are you-“ she stopped and swallowed nervously. “What are you doing?”

“I just wanna try something.” He murmured quietly, “Is this okay?”

She gave a small nod, lightly knocking her nose against his. “Mmm.” She hummed softly, “I trust you Matt.” Her voice was barely audible, but to Matt it felt like the most beautiful symphony he’d ever heard. His lips parted softly with a breath as he felt her eyes flutter shut.

Time seemed to move in slow motion as he moved closer, closer, closer until his lips brushed hers. It was a quick and gentle thing, he pulled away after the first brush and pressed his forehead and the bridge of his nose against her own, flexing the hand on her waist, giving her an out if she decided that she didn’t like kissing him.

He was half ready for her to pull away completely when she nuzzled her head against his and pressed a kiss to his chin, where she could reach without standing on her toes. The exchange continued this way, small innocent kisses placed on each other’s faces. But when Matt pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth, he could hear Helena’s heartbeat roaring in her chest, if he didn’t know any better he would’ve thought that it would burst out of her body.

The air shifted suddenly when she turned her head to catch his lips with her own, and at the unexpected show of affection, Matt nearly fell over. She brought her hand to his face, holding his jaw, the other slipping beneath his suit jacket, resting against his back. The feeling of her hands on him and her lips on his sent him into overdrive. His arm looped around her waist to pull her closer, nearly knocking her off her feet, as his other hand rested possessively over her throat.

They parted their lips at the same time, slipping into a hazy, slightly sloppy, kiss that left them both lightheaded and warm.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.”

 a/n: 🤮🤮🤮🤮 (affectionate)

Hot person taglist: @freshabogados @elgrandeavocados @angelsfilth @moonlarking ​

Comment or dm me if you want to be added!!!

[autisticheadcanonsdaily]

Loki Odinson/Laufeyson from the Marvel Cinematic Universe is autistic, submitted by anon!

[buckys-metal-arm]

Marvels After Credit Scene that Didn't Happen but is Canon in My Heart:

So I really want a scene of one of the Flerkittens (white with blue eyes) to be wandering around the street meowing and then we see boots coming up to it and two hands reach out and then you see it.

The metal arm.

It picks up the kitten and walks off, maybe if you're feeling really fancy maybe a few lines of quiet "hey, hey, it's okay Sweetheart" or something like that and then BOOM we have Alpine in the MCU

Then cut to Thunderbolts and Bucky still has no idea that Al is a Flerken until they're in a fight and she gets attacked and Bucky is terrified they're gonna hurt his cat and then Alpine just gobbles them up and then like Yelena is like "JAMES BARNES WHAT THE FUCK"... Cut to Bucky looking equal parts horrified and impressed and just picks up Alpine and goes "uh...good girl?"

[multitaylorsversion]

sup, hello all.

i just finished watching dr strange in the multiverse of madness. let me just tell u. that was the most interesting movie i’ve watched. i can make a rant post if you wish but i might not be up to that rn. good luck and good bye.

[jjeangrey]

wanda: why don’t you just bring america here

dr strange:

wanda: you didn’t tell me her name did you

dr strange: …no

wanda:

[petertingle-yipyip]

SO LONG LONDON - STEVEN GRANT

Pairing: steven x reader (established) (and then marc shows up)

Word Count: 2,489

Summary: Dating Steven was always a bit of a gamble. So when a beautiful woman comes to town claiming your boyfriend as her husband, you find a whole new side to the man you love.

//honestly idk what happened here, just go with it//

It made no sense.

You two were scheduled together all the time. Donna claimed it was the only way to make sure Steven actually showed up to his shifts. And for the most part, it worked. Occasionally, you two would have a day or two different and he wouldn’t show or would be ridiculously late. But you were usually able to explain it away to your manager so Steven wouldn’t get in trouble.

But now, it has been three straight days of Steven pulling no-calls-no-shows. Even when you tried to call him, it went straight to voicemail. Like his phone wasn’t even on.

You were walking around the city that day after work. You picked up some lunch and were looking at your phone, contemplating whether or not you wanted to try calling out texting him again, but the sharp whizz of a woman on a moped cut you off.

You stopped so suddenly in your tracks that your phone fell from your hands as you scrambled to catch your food.

“I’m so sorry!” The woman said quickly, suddenly in front of you with your phone in hand. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.” You shrugged it off and held a hand out for your phone. She went to pass it back to you but her eyes lingered on your screen where Steven’s contact photo was waiting.

“It was my fault for not looking.” You tried while she quietly stared at the screen. Your fingers hooked on your device and with a slight tug, you got it back.

“I’m Layla, by the way.” She said when you had moved to leave.

“Y/N.” You nodded. “Nice to meet you.” You tried to leave again but she spoke up.

“Boyfriend?”

“What?”

“The guy on your phone.” She gestured to your hand where your phone still sat. As subtle as possible, your thumb hit the lock button to hide the photo that was still waiting. “Is that your boyfriend?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “He’s M.I.A. right now so I’m starting to worry. Normal girlfriend things, y’know? He’s a bit of a sleepwalker so…” You finished awkwardly.

“Would you…” She began and your brows raised. “Would you wanna get some coffee maybe? I think we should talk some more.”

“Oh, well.. Thank you but I should get home. I’m like three missed calls away from a missing persons report.” You tried to joke.

“It’s just that your boyfriend looks an awful lot like my husband.”

“What?” Your heart sunk.

“Yeah, uh..” She hurried to pull her phone from her bag. “My husband, Marc Spector. Maybe you’ve heard his name? He comes and goes for work but then I got a call and now I’m here trying to find him.”

“Oh!” You sighed in relief. “Okay, it’s probably a coincidence because my boyfriend’s name is.. Steven… Gra…”

Your sentence trailed off as Layla showed you her screen and a photo of her and someone who looked exactly like Steven faced you. His posture was different and you assumed his aura was as well. His hair was styled differently and he even wore different clothes than Steven would. Too similar to ignore but too different to convince you.

“Wow, um, that resemblance really is… Y’know what, maybe we should get some coffee.” You agreed.

After a while of you two talking, neither of you were convinced the other person was talking about the same person. Layla’s ‘Marc’ seemed to have a completely different personality than Steven. He seemed rougher, insufferable even. To be able to completely abandon your wife with no explanation was borderline appalling, and Steven would never. He hardly even went to run errands without giving you a full list of everywhere he intended to go.

As far as you could tell, the only similarity was their looks.

You offered to bring her to Steven’s apartment to show her that he was a different person with a different life. But when you knocked, your usual habit just in case he was home, he actually answered the door.

“Hello, Love.” He smiled at you, though the expression quickly faded when he saw yours. “Something wrong?”

“Steven, this is Layla. Layla, Steven.” You introduced before she had pushed past you both and into the apartment.

Steven looked at you in confusion but you smiled in apology with a small shrug. He stepped aside and gestured for you to come in so you did. Layla was investigating the small space and Steven was staying close to your side. You could feel his fingers tapping the back of your hand, his silent request to interlock your fingers together, but you put your hands in your jacket pocket instead.

“This is your flat, Marc?” She asked and you were thankful someone finally spoke to break the tension.

“I’m Steven, actually.” He answered.

“And you live here with her?” She gestured to you.

“No.” You answered for yourself. “I stay a few blocks over.”

“It’s my mum’s flat, actually.” Steven defended.

“You guys are talking again?” She asked as she found one of the poetry books on his shelves.

They exchanged remarks about the French poet and the hieroglyphics on Steven’s desk. You watched quietly and were finding nothing that could indicate Steven was Marc. But then again, the one French poet he knew just so happened to be Layla’s favorite. And his explanation of hieroglyphs was the same as hers.

Was it possible?

While the two turned to argue about divorce papers and Steven’s identity, you were distracted by the unusual gym bag on the table. You glanced and saw them take their conversation to another side of the room so you went over to the bag. You were thankful it was already unzipped so you pulled the sides apart and were dumbfounded by what you saw.

Stacks of money, a gun, a golden bug, and a passport.

You were drawn to the document so you pulled it out quietly and opened it, seeing a different name printed on the page.

“Marc Spector.” You read to yourself and your heart came to a screeching halt in your chest.

“Who’s Marc?” You asked suddenly, drawing attention to yourself. You held up the passport expectantly.

“Oh, jeez, uh…” Steven rushed over, crumbling the divorce papers under his arm as he reached for the passport.

“No.” You held it further away. “Who are you?”

“C’mon, love. You know me.” He tried, almost desperate for you to be on his side.

“I don’t think I do.” You said sadly. “Who’s Marc? Is he your twin brother or something?”

“I don’t know.” He answered quickly.

“He is Marc and he needs to tell me if we’re getting this divorce or not.” Layla spoke up and snatched the papers from under Steven’s arm.

“You seem lovely, Layla, truly. But I’m not Marc Spector.” He insisted and you so badly wanted to believe him. “I’m Steven Grant and I work at a gift shop. Well, I used to work at a gift shop. I just want my life back.”

“Doesn’t seem like you know which life that is, do you?” You slammed the passport against his chest.

“Y/N, please wait.” He reached for your hand but you backed away.

You nearly ran down the hall to the elevator. You needed to get away. From Layla. From Steven or Marc or whoever the hell he was.

It felt like you didn’t know him anymore. A different name you could live with. A secret job, sure, you could get over that. But a wife? An entirely opposite personality? That shook your entire world, the very foundation of your relationship. You could justify the rest but the idea of him loving someone else so wholly and being someone else so entirely, it had you questioning everything you knew.

About him. About life and love. Even about yourself.

It made you wonder if you could walk away from it all. Say so long to the quiet london boy that stole your heart.

You were back in your apartment before you knew it and you leaned against the closed door for a moment once you were inside. Your head was spinning with the new situation and you decided you didn’t want to think about it. You pushed yourself up and headed to your fridge, picking out one of the cans you usually reserved for after dinner or nights you had friends over for drinks and movies. You took it into your room and got changed before dropping onto your couch.

You put your can on the side table and picked up the remote, flipping through channels until a familiar movie played. You let it run as background noise while you read your book and slipped your drink. But despite your best efforts, Steven was still present in your mind. When you were picturing the main male character, all you could picture was your boyfriend. One of the female characters started to look like Layla. It drove you insane.

You threw the book to the coffee table and dropped to your back across the cushions. You didn’t know how long you had been staring at your ceiling when someone knocked on your door. The first time the noise came, you didn’t move. Surely whoever it was would leave. But after a few seconds the knocking came again, with more authority than the first time. so you hauled yourself up and shuffled over. 

Opening the door, you were greeted by the ghost of your boyfriend. For the most part, it was the same man. Same clothes and same facial features. But his dark curls were pushed out of his face. His posture stood taller and his shoulders pulled back.

It didn’t take long for you to recognize you weren’t looking at Steven.

You moved to close the door when his hand shot out to stop you. You tried leaning some of your body weight against the door but it hardly budged. You muttered a small complaint to yourself before stepping back and opening the door fully.

You stared at the imposter expectantly.

“Not gonna let me in?” He asked, gesturing slightly towards your apartment.

Even his voice was different. Missing the accent, deeper and fuller than Steven’s. Seeing the more mature sound come from your boyfriend’s face sent goosebumps across your skin.

“Why would I? I don’t know you.” You shrugged.

“C’mon, Y/N.” He groaned and ran a hand down his face. “You really wanna have this conversation in the hall?”

You sighed heavily and as if on cue, your nosy neighbor was leaving her apartment. You grabbed Marc’s jacket and pulled him in, giving the woman a quick wave and a tight smile. You heard her question who he was but you shut the door before having to answer. You stared at the door for a second to collect yourself before turning to face Marc, who had already made himself comfortable on your couch.

“Little early in the day for drinks, don’t you think?” He tried to joke and shook the empty can but you didn’t laugh.

“Well when I find out my boyfriend is married and absolutely not who I thought he was, I’m entitled to a spiked lemonade… Just be glad it isn’t the bottle of vodka in my freezer.” You countered, the words spilling faster than you could control them. “So who the hell are you this time?”

“My name’s Marc.” He began and you rolled your eyes. “Steven and I are…”

“Twins?” You tried your earlier guess. You just desperately wanted something simple for an explanation. A case of mistaken identity among twins was simple enough.

“No, not exactly.”

“But you are the one married to that girl, Layla, right?” You pressed.

“Yeah.” He nodded and a small smile crossed his lips. “Steven’s never met her till today.”

“Well…” You said awkwardly, coming a few steps closer. “She’s very pretty.”

He smiled a little wider for a second before he seemed to remember why he was there.

“Listen, I came here because I wanted to try and explain what I could to you.” He began carefully.

“Is Layla right then, Steven’s just an act?” You cut in sharply. “A fake name so you can lead a life away from her? Because it seems to me that that woman loves you. Why she would is baffling to me and why you would divorce her is even more ludacris.”

“He’s not an act and he’s not fake.” He seemed to flinch at the last word. “Maybe he’s not all that real, either. It’s…” He blew out a heavy sigh. “It’s complicated, Y/N/N.”

“Don’t you dare.” You said tightly, closing the distance to put yourself in front of Marc. “You’ve existed to me for all of ten minutes. You have no right to call me that.”

“You’re right.” His hands went up in surrender. “I’m sorry.”

“How do you know about that anyway?”

“I know pretty much everything about Steven’s life.” He shrugged innocently. “You, the gift shop, his really shitty boss. I know what bus he takes, that goddamn fish. Jesus, I even know what underwear brand he wears.”

“How? Why? I just-“ You groaned and pushed your hands into your hair. “What the hell is going on, Marc?”

“Sometimes…” He spoke carefully, as if he was treading around land mines. “There were a few nights when you would come to Steven’s, or walking back to his place after work, it wouldn’t be him… He wouldn’t take over in time and it would be me. Kinda got to know you through that.”

“Oh my god.” You said quietly, your hand covering your mouth as you sunk into the chair beside you. “When he would be super quiet and just nodding or making little humming noises…”

“Yeah…” He hesitantly agreed, clearly embarrassed. “I tried to kind of push him forward but- I don’t know how this shit works, Y/N. I’m just living with it at this point.”

“So… You’re Marc and he’s Steven, but you’re also the same?” You questioned as the information tried to sink in. “Like you two are-“ You interlocked your fingers together.

“Same body, different people.” He nodded. “I know it’s a lot but don’t.. Don’t leave him over this.”

“Leave him?” Your brows furrowed and you almost laughed. “I’m not gonna leave him over this.”

“Really?” His brows raised quizzically. “Cause it didn’t seem that way when you walked out.”

“I can handle personalities, I think. It’s the marriage that’s a problem.”

“To be fair, it’s my marriage.” He offered. “Like I said, he never knew her.”

“I just need a day or two to let it process.” You confessed. “And I think you need a day or two to figure out things with Layla.”

“Yeah, probably right.”

“And if you two work it out, me and Layla are gonna have to figure out an arrangement.”

[lokidips]

little loki in dresses (the oversized hoodie counts to her) <3 bonus: thor buys them for her.

[annachum]

Lol imagine Zeus be like, ' Ah, my big brother Hades! After all these centuries and still have 7 offsprings! '

And Poseidon goes, ' Who would have thunk that our big brother is the one with the least children?! XD XD '

Hades : * exhaustedly * At least I don't run around having multiple children with other women UNLIKE THE BOTH OF YOU

Hermes, Apollo and Artemis : OHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!! 🤯🤯🤯🤯🤣🤣🤣🤣

[appocalipse]

something good ⋆ bucky barnes

summary: bucky is about to go to war without confessing his feelings for you. you are about to watch him leave without confessing your feelings for him. that is, unless one of you gets up the courage to do something about it...

"I...need some fresh air. I'll be back."

Steve looks like he's going to argue with you as you push the chair out, but then you glance toward where Bucky disappeared in the crowd of people dancing, and Steve's face softens before he gives you a nod.

"We'll be right here," he says, pointing to your barely-touched drink. "Be careful."

The alley behind the bar is damp and quiet, cool from the rain earlier in the day but blissfully empty. You lean against the bricks and tip your head back, closing your eyes.

Steve was wrong — you should have stayed home.

He'd begged you to come out tonight; it wasn't just the two of them, he'd said, his eyes wide with hope. A few others had been invited, too, old friends who Bucky had wanted to see one last time before shipping out tomorrow.

And girls, of course. Girls with big smiles and bright eyes, who looked at Bucky as if they were hungry and he was a steak dinner.

To his credit, though, Bucky had asked you to dance first, and you'd said no. No, because it would have been impossible to act casually around him with your hands on his chest and his on your waist.

So, yes, you’d needed some fresh air after that. How could you not, when—

"Are you mad at me?"

You turn toward the voice that came from down the alley. Even though it's dark, you, of course, recognize him instantly, silhouetted against the weak light coming from inside the bar.

"Me? No, you—I'm not," you reply, your tongue feeling like it weighs three pounds. You attempt a smile. "What are you doing out here? You should be inside, enjoying your last night, no?"

Bucky shrugs and walks closer, but only far enough so you can see each other without straining.

"I was looking for you," he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Steve said you'd come out here."

"I'll go back inside soon, I promise. Don't worry."

He doesn't move except to kick a loose pebble away from his toe. "Why didn't you want to dance with me?"

Your stomach plummets at the question. He sounds almost hurt, and you wish you could explain yourself to him in a way that doesn't include blurting out your stupid feelings in the process.

"Uh...I don't know, I just...well, no reason," you stumble, wishing desperately that you weren't such an idiot. "I thought I'd keep Steve company while you...you know."

"Danced with the rest of them?"

You nod silently.

Bucky makes a scoffing sound before running a hand through his hair. "They're all the same."

"Okay..."

"It's not, uh, it's not what you think," he continues, taking a step forward, then back again as if he's unsure of how close to stand. "The girls — they're nice and pretty, sure, but...they're just not... I don't think they're my type, I guess."

"Uh-huh," you murmur, turning your gaze downward toward your shoes, suddenly finding it easier to look anywhere but at him. "Yeah, well, we better get back before—"

"Is there somebody else?"

The air in your lungs vanishes at his abrupt question, and you look up as your heart starts beating out of rhythm.

"Excuse me?" you whisper, surprised that you've even found your voice. "Somebody else?"

"Somebody that you...that you're seeing," Bucky says slowly, his words strained, as if every one causes him pain.

You stare at him for a second, hoping this is a joke, that maybe Steve put him up to asking these ridiculous questions — or maybe he's been drinking too much — because, surely, Bucky couldn't possibly be trying to ask you what you think he's trying to ask you.

"Bucky, let's just go back inside—"

"It's Steve, isn't it?" he cuts you off with the most absurd statement yet. His expression softens. "It's okay, really. If you are, I mean. He's a really good guy."

"Steve?!" You actually laugh at the absurdity of it all, shaking your head until the shock fades away into incredulity. "Jesus Christ, no! I mean, Steve is...he's like a brother to me, what...what the hell are we even talking about?"

"But...there's someone?" he asks again, sounding less upset than he had a few moments ago.

"No, not—no," you say, slouching against the wall and shrugging halfheartedly. "There's no one. Honestly, there hasn't been since..."

"Since when?"

Since I met you.

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose and praying that a sinkhole will open up and swallow you whole. This has gone on long enough. "I don't know. It's...been a little while. I don't know what you want me to say, really."

"I just wondered."

"Okay, fine."

You start to walk back to the door leading inside, but Bucky moves so quickly that you run smack into his chest.

"Wait, just—"

He grabs your hand and holds it gently, thumb softly brushing along your knuckles.

Your breath hitches at the unexpected contact. You glance down at where he's holding onto you, then back up again, confused, curious, wondering if this is real and not some strange dream you'll wake up from any moment now.

You exhale with a shaky laugh when he lifts his other hand to your cheek and rubs his thumb across it, stopping at the corner of your mouth.

Slowly, so slowly, he leans in.

"Bucky," you breathe, his name soft on your tongue.

His forehead touches yours, and you reach up to rest a palm against his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath your fingertips.

"Do you not want me to...?"

He's never been this close to you, but everything about the moment feels familiar — the heat radiating from his body, the light scratch of his stubble on your cheek, the smell of him surrounding you.

You lift your chin slightly. "I do, but..."

"Just..." You feel the warmth of his breath on your lips; he's so close now that they brush against yours as he speaks. "I wish I'd...said something before it came to this."

"Before what came to this?"

"That I'd have...asked you. Proper, like. Dinner, movie. You know, the way it shoulda been. Before I...before I leave."

You stiffen at the word leave, pulling back so that you can look him in the eye.

"Bucky..."

"I wish I would've asked you to dinner. Would've loved to take you to dinner," he says, his eyes searching yours. "Wouldn't that have been nice, doll?"

A small smile lifts the corner of your mouth. "It would've."

"It could've been nice, you and me."

"I think it could have been."

"Yeah?" he chuckles quietly, lifting your hand and bringing it to his lips. He presses a kiss to the back of your fingers, then your palm. "I think it can still be. You see, I'm quite selfish. I'd like to go to war with something good to think of. Something — or someone — to come home to. That'd be worth coming home to."

"Like...Steve?"

It's a joke, of course, and Bucky, to his credit, does laugh, too. Then, he slips a finger under your chin and tips your face up toward his. You hold your breath as he dips his head to place a gentle, barely-there kiss on the corner of your mouth. "Not like Steve. No."

The music from inside the bar becomes louder, a woman's voice singing softly, sweetly. Stars fading, but I linger on, dear...

"I..." You clear your throat nervously, fiddling with the collar of his jacket. "You better come back to me in one piece."

"You gonna be waiting for me?"

You smirk. "I mean, I already waited this long, so I might as well—"

The rest of your words disappear into his kiss. You gasp at the sudden, almost desperate press of Bucky's lips on yours, but then he brings his hands to the sides of your face and kisses you more gently, more slowly, more purposefully, as if he has a lot to say to you in this moment but words fail him and the only thing left to do is this — to kiss you, over and over, again and again, to say, with his lips, with his hands, with every inch of himself...that he'll come back to you.

You whimper as Bucky's teeth catch your lower lip and tug before letting go. He pulls back far enough to look at you, to see your swollen lips parted. "So...that means yes, right?"

"Yes," you murmur. You slide your hands over his shoulders and into his hair, pulling his mouth back down to yours. "It means yes."

[lanawinterscigarettes]

Dirty hcs, y with Natasha

(Dirty A-Z headcanon game can be found here) nsfw under the cut

Y - Yes, Master (what kinds of names are used during sex? do they like being called master / mistress, daddy, etc…? what names do they call their partner?) 

Natasha's fine with being called either daddy or mommy, whichever one you prefer; and honestly, if you want to switch between them and call her mommy one time or daddy another, she really doesn't care. Her nicknames for you are simple but sweet: Малыш, which means baby in Russian, and дорогой, which is darling

[imgonnaragnorockurshit]

Annihilation Day: Chapter 7

Chapter warnings: 18+ minors DNI, PTSD flashbacks, canon typical violence, angst, touching on Matt’s self-hatred and depression, hospitals

a/n: GOD the writers block really killed me on this one, thank you guys for your patience <3

word count: 4.4k

Series masterlist

Her eyes strain against the bright fluorescent lights above her as Helena opens her eyes. Her mouth is dry as she tries to breath, the feeling making her feel choked. After a few moments of letting her eyes adjust to the offending light, she began to assess to room around her.

She couldn’t remember where she was, or how she got there. But, with each passing second that confusion morphed into terror as the realization sank in that she knew exactly where she was.

The sickening and terrifying hospital lab that she’d spent so many years in as a girl surrounded her on all sides, causing blood-curdling fear to rip through her body. Her ears rung and her stomach twisted, as she began to thrash around on the table, desperately trying to free her limbs from the restraints that held them securely by her sides.

The walls seemed to be closing in on her as tears streamed down her cheeks, she hadn’t even realized she’d started to cry, but she was fucking terrified. The lights became unbearably bright as she heaved in breaths that her lungs continued to reject.

What the fuck is going on? Her thoughts screamed inside her skull.

I made it out.

I shouldn’t be here.

Why am I here?

Her spiral was cut short by another voice piercing through the haze of the scene around her. It called out a few more times before she could even understand what it was saying. It was calling her name.

Helena!

Helena, wake up.

Helena you’re okay, you’re okay please wake up.

The room around her started to blur together and spin as she tumbled headfirst into consciousness, her real eyes shooting open and her lips opening to heave in a massive breath as she shot up in her hospital bed. Her head jerked around in a panic, her lungs still hyperventilating as her gaze focused on the only other figure in the room.

It was Matt.

In an instant he was by her side, his hands on her shoulders. He was speaking to her, but she couldn’t hear what he was saying, the ringing in her ears still far to loud to process any other sound. She read his lips as best she could.

“-s okay, just breathe, in and out, there you go, that’s it, just breathe.”

The ringing dulled and was soon replaced with the sound of her vitals, the dull buzz of the fluorescent lights, and the breathing of the man in front of her.

“Matty-“ Her voice was cracked and strangled, and it made his heart shatter even more. “Water, please” she choked out. Matt’s head nodded quickly, leaving one hand on her shoulder as he turned to grab the water bottle from her bedside table, uncapping it as he gently brought it to her lips. Helena shocked him when her own hand reached up to take the bottle from him, raising it fully and completely downing it in seconds. He stood stunned as she put the, now empty, bottle down. It was silent for a beat before the memories from the night before hit her like a freight train.

“Oh, shit I was stabbed, wasn’t I?” she breathed out, her hand unconsciously moving to her side where it ghosted over the fresh bandages from what she assumed was a life-saving surgery. She observed him carefully as he nodded, his brows furrowing together at the reminder.

“Helena-“ He started before pursing his lips, taking a deep breath through his nose. “What happened? Mrs. Sánchez said someone broke into your apartment. She said you-“ He took another breath, “She found you in a pool of your own blood.” His jaw clenched.

“I don’t know, really.” She sighed, disappointed. “I think he was Russian though.” She perked up as she spoke, having remembered the minor, yet hopefully important detail.

He struggled, and failed, to keep his expression in check, his teeth bearing from under his lips.

It couldn’t be a coincidence.

It was why Claire was completely safe, and why he never did figure out who the Ranskahov brothers were targeting that night.

It all made sense now, and the realization started a fire in his chest that screamed, find him, find him, find him.

“Matt, whoa, whoa wait, where’re you going?” Her voice cut through his fury; he hadn’t even realized he’d taken a couple angry strides towards the door of Helena’s hospital room.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured quickly moving back to give her a kiss on the forehead, before moving back to the door again with even more purpose than before, “There’s something I have to take care of.”

And before she could even begin to protest, he was gone.

Matt hadn’t come back to see her since he’d left her hospital room in a hurry, but she wasn’t alone for long. Foggy, Karen, and Mrs. Sánchez took shifts to be with her at nearly all times. And though she treasured their company, she really did, she couldn’t deny that she felt the safest in the five minutes she’d spent with Matt when she gained consciousness.

Foggy and Karen would take their lunchbreaks in the cramped, dingy room in Metro General Hospital and Helena tried not to feel the subtle ache in her chest that Matt never once joined them. In fact, the topic of their mysterious friend hardly came up at all. It seemed that, once again, Foggy and Karen were as in the dark about Matt’s where-abouts as Helena was. The sentiment, however, did little to sooth the hurt that Matt’s absence had caused, but she had bigger things to worry about.

Someone had broken into her apartment.

Someone had broken into her apartment to kill her.

Karen did the most in the way of attempting to investigate who and why Helena was attacked, Foggy was just happy that his friend was alive, satisfied with sharing his fries with her during lunch time.

On the third day of her hospital stay, Helena watched the sun set through the window of her room. Mrs. Sánchez had left an hour ago, insisting to continue eating dinner with her until she was well enough to come home. The doctors told her that she lost a kidney, in all honesty it was probably the best-case scenario given her circumstances. About two inches to the left and up, she would’ve likely lost her spleen, not fatal, but significantly more debilitating than a lost kidney. A couple inches to the right and she would certainly be dead, so she resigned to consider herself lucky. And after a week’s stay in the hospital, the doctors insisted that, aside from another nasty scar, she would feel ‘as good as new!’ as though her apartment hadn’t been broken into, and she hadn’t been stabbed, and hadn’t been nearly, brutally murdered.

Fortunately, or unfortunately rather, this was a feeling that Helena knew very well. She knew how it felt to have people after you, for people to want you dead. But she was used to having these feelings when she used to live in Russia, where she was raised to kill and never ask questions. But here she was a nobody, or she was supposed to be. So, the indifference she felt towards this situation was quickly replaced with anger when she realized its implications.

She had friends now; this could mean they were in danger.

She’d spent so long building a quiet and honest life for herself, and this threatened to fuck all of that up.

And god there was probably a massive fucking blood stain on her living room floor right now, which meant that even when she was cleared to go home, she wouldn’t be escaping the reality of what happened to her. In an effort to quell the building irritation in her body, Helena turned her focus to the small TV playing across from her. It only played the news and out of order re-runs of Cheers, but it meant she wasn’t alone with her thoughts, so she kept it playing a majority of the time. The evening news was in full swing right now, one of the news casters talking about the forecast as Helena tried to focus on what he was saying, until her focus shifted into a cat-like concentration as the Breaking News banner flew across the screen.

“Breaking news, a body has just been discovered in Hell’s Kitchen, the victim has just been identified as Anatoly Ranskahov, a prominent member within the Russian mob-“ the victim’s picture popped up next to the broadcaster’s head and Helena’s exhale caught in her throat. There he was, the man who tried to kill her. All sound drained from her focus as her tunnel vision centered on Anatoly Ranskahov’s photo. “-The police currently have no leads at this time, but advise the residents of Hell’s Kitchen to stay inside after dark and lock your doors while they get to the bottom of this bizarre tragedy.”

Helena’s hand moved with a slow and cold calculus as it raised the remote to turn off the TV. Ranskahov. She knew that name. While she’d never found photos during her deep-dark-web search, she had repeatedly stumbled across the name Ranskahov. Anatoly Ranskahov and his brother Vladimir. She quickly decided that if she wanted answers, and she did, her best shot would be to track him down. Carefully, she scanned the room around her, listening intently for any movement or footsteps outside the door. When she heard none, she turned to her arm, removing the needles that were constantly feeding her fluids. Thankfully, the nurses had been kind enough to change her into sweats that morning, so she wasn’t going to have to perform the great escape in an assless hospital gown. She’d be without shoes, and obviously without her kidney- but in the grand scheme of Helena’s life, she’d been through much worse. Once she’d made it out her door with no one seeing her, the process of prematurely leaving the hospital was easier than she could’ve imagined, the building was still buzzing with life, but with the day staff gone and the night staff in their place, no one knew her face. And consequentially, no one questioned her as the observed a, seemingly, healthy woman leaving the hospital as the sun set.

Except as she cleared the hospital doors, with one less kidney, she couldn’t ignore the dizziness she felt and the black spots that swam through her vision.

But Helena was nothing if not relentless.

Even barefoot, she made it back to her crime scene of an apartment in record time. For the first time since she left the hospital, she came to a halt in her bedroom and stared at her floorboards. Rather, what was under her floorboards. Huffing a breath, she grabbed a hammer and started ripping up the floor of her tiny city bedroom.

“Stupid motherfucker.” She seethed under her breath in Russian as she destroyed her perfectly good hardwood. “This is going to be such a fucking pain to fix, pain in my fucking ass.” Safe to say, she was more than a little frustrated with the current state of things. And as she pulled the dusty duffel bag out of the new hole in her floor, her hands began to shake. She set her jaw as she raised to her feet, hauling the cursed bag with her.

No more than ten minutes later Helena stared at her reflection in her bathroom mirror. Wrapped in a pitch black, full body tactical suit, guns at her hips, a wide array of knives strapped to her thighs and around her ankles, and tasers at her wrists, she felt like she was looking at someone that she only used to know. She hadn’t met this version of herself in a very long time. Honestly, she’d hoped she’d never have to again, but the universe was nothing if not unnecessarily, and cruelly ironic. If she wasn’t so keyed up to go and find answers she probably could’ve cried.

But instead, she put her hair up and left her apartment through her fire escape, expertly slipping into the darkness of Hell’s Kitchen’s alleyways, in search of her target.

In all honesty, Helena had little to no idea exactly where she was going, and it wasn’t like she’d be able to recognize Vladimir’s face either. Sticking one side of her headphones into her ear she hacked into the police scanner station for the area, listening intently for anything that could give her a lead. She kept walking in the meantime, absentmindedly playing with the mangled cord of her headphones as she surveyed the empty city streets around her, when she heard a barely audible shuffle coming somewhere behind her. She immediately removed the headphone as discreetly as possible, in an effort not to tip anyone off of her awareness of their presence. She paused momentarily, listening carefully, and continued to walk forward very slowly, stopping again after a few steps.

There was no sound this time, maybe it was just her imagination, but she knew better than that. Whatever or whoever it was had corrected their mistake, but she wasn’t going to make one herself. So, with slow subtle movements, she kneeled to the ground, feigning like she was examining something up close, as she carefully shoved her phone and headphones back into her pocket and slowly gripped the handle of her gun that hung at her right hip. After half a breath, she pushed herself up off the dirty, alley floor and spun on her heal, clicking off the safety and raising the handgun towards the darkness where she was certain someone was hiding.

“Okay, whoever’s playing boogeyman in the alleyway right now, I suggest you quit it if you’d like to keep your kneecaps in solid pieces. I have had a very bad week, so trust me when I say I am the wrong person to fuck with tonight.” Her voice was steady, her hands were steadier. To Helena, this kind of thing was like riding a bike. Just as easy to pick it back up every time, regardless of how long it had been since she held a gun, let alone used one.

She could practically hear the stranger contemplating their next move as she stood her ground, less than patiently awaited their decision. However, to avoid unnecessary gunfire, that Helena was more than willing to produce, the stranger took a step out of the shadows and wavered there, like they were afraid to be fully seen by her. But she didn’t need to fully see them, she knew exactly who she was looking at the second she saw their silhouette.

All black, broad shoulders with a slender waste, fists wrapped in bloodied rope, all topped off with a black mask covering the top half of his face. The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. She lowered her gun almost immediately, holstering it back at her side.

“Jesus, Diablo, you can’t just follow women in dark alley’s yaknow?” She teased, releasing a breath of relief. But his resolve didn’t crack, not even a smile. She wasn’t close enough to him to decipher what little emotions she could from the tensing of his jaw, the flaring of his nostrils, or the subtle downturn of his lips, but she could tell that he was uncomfortable, maybe even angry.

“Sorry about the gun, like I said, it’s been a very bad week.” She gave another pitiful attempt to lift the, suddenly very, tense mood, but once again no dice.

There was a long pause where the two just stared at each other, until Matt took a deep breath and spoke.

“What are you doing out here?” He tried to mask his voice with a different pitch and inflection, but he knew instantly that his efforts were in vain. Helena knew him all too well.

“Come closer.” She spoke lowly, steadily, but he could hear the increased racing of her heart. When he didn’t, she spoke again. “I’m dead serious right now, stop hiding and come out here.” He could hear the slight waver in her voice, and he was done for. He immediately stepped forward into the dingy light of the streetlamp and came face to face with Helena. She was too delirious to realize it the last time they’d met, but now, with all her focus and after having gotten to know him over the past few months, it was painfully obvious to her who he was, even with that ridiculous mask.

“Matty?” the question came out soft and unsure, even though they both knew she was certain of the answer. He gave her a small, defeated nod as she reached up her hand to lift the mask to his hairline, so that she could see his entire face. His eyes where closed as she held her hand by his cheek, like he was afraid she would reject him if she saw what was inside them.

But after another moment of the still silence that had formed between them, Helena did something Matt did not expect. She hugged him. Slowly she wrapped one arm around his neck and the other around his torso before burying her face against his chest. He was expecting her to leave him, hit him, yell at him for being so selfish or for lying, but she didn’t. She simply held him.

He hesitantly wrapped his arms around her, afraid that any sudden movement would result in her abandonment. “You’re not- you’re not mad?” he asked quietly, like he was afraid of her answer. Her heart clenched at the thought as she shifted back slightly to look at his face.

“Matty, why would I be mad at you?” Helena asked honestly, eyebrows furrowing together like she could possibly imagine what was so wrong about what he was doing.

“I lied to you, to all of you. And I’ve been running around playing vigilante, I’ve hurt people, you- you should hate me.” Matt spoke with a level of self-loathing that concerned even Helena, who had condemned herself to eternal damnation for the things she’d done on more than one occasion.

“Matt no.” She spoke firmly, raising her hands to lift his face from where it had tilted towards the ground in shame. “Matt, you saved my life, no doubt lots of peoples lives.” She soothed, running her thumbs gently across his cheekbones where she could see a fresh bruise, likely sustained earlier that night, starting to form. “I mean, look at me, I’ve obviously been keeping things from you too. We all have demons and skeletons in our closets Matty, and it’s not up to anyone but you how you want to deal with them.” She watched as his eyes welled with relieved tears, and she stayed quiet as she whipped them away with her thumb as they fell.

“Thank you.” He breathed in a whisper as his forehead pressed against hers. They stood like that in comfortable silence for a while.

“As much as I would like to go back to your apartment and divulge into our childhood trauma and deepest darkest secrets, I do really need your help with something.” Helena spoke up after Matt had calmed down and his breathing evened out.

He nodded against her head. “Anything.” He agreed almost instantly.

“I know who broke into my apartment.” She started as she pulled back from him, though reluctantly.

“Anatoly Ranskahov.” He affirmed with confidence.

“How did you-? You know what, that doesn’t matter right now, that makes this easier. I’m looking for Vladimir, his brother.”

“Same here, I came straight out after I heard the news that he’d been killed, I figured his brother may have some answers.” Matt nodded his head, and thought hard about their next move. He wasn’t overly thrilled at the idea of bringing Helena into whatever shit show he was about to walk into, but he had a feeling that she was more than capable of taking care of herself.

And so, he filled her in on his plan, and it went off remarkably smoothly for his standards. After some effort to tail a Veles taxi to an abandoned warehouse, and fight off a group of Russian mobsters they were able to get someone to talk. Vladimir wasn’t there sadly, but a rat would work just as well as far as Helena was concerned. It took very little convincing; Helena was very threatening.

“Okay, here’s what’s gonna happen pal. I need you to answer all of my friend’s questions or you and I can play a game I like to call how many bones can I break in under a minute, capeesh?” Matt stood to the side stunned as she spoke, the woman in front of him completely unrecognizable. “Trust me, I do not enjoy hurting people, but unfortunately for the both of us, I had to become very good at it. So, it is in your best interest to cooperate. Now, I will ask you again, what is your name?”

“Piotr! My name is Piotr.” He cracked, breathing heavily.

“See? That wasn’t so hard. He’s all yours Diablo.” She spoke over her shoulder towards Matt, her tone much softer and kind when directed at him.

Matt stalked toward the chair that held Piotr and squatted to maintain a faux line of eye contact.

“Where is Vladimir Ranskahov?” he questioned.

Piotr squeezed his eyes shut and groaned toward the ceiling. “He’ll kill me.”

“No, he won’t, because after you tell us everything you know, I’ll be turning you into the Hell’s Kitchen Police Department. You’ll be put in prison, but you will be safe.” Matt countered, a small smirk grazing his face as he continued, “though, if that option doesn’t suit you, I’m more than happy to let my friend take a few swings at you, see what falls out.” He smiled wickedly as Helena cracked her knuckles for effect.

Piotr nearly pissed himself as he cowered in the chair. “No, no, no, no! I’ll talk! I’ll talk.” He took a shaky inhale and exhale. “I don’t know where he is right now, but I know where he’ll be, paper? Can I see some paper? And a pen?” he scribbled down an address. “that’s the address for one of his warehouses, he’s usually hanging around there. Probably even more now that his brother is dead, but you already knew about that.” He sneered.

Helena tilted her head to the side, “What’s that supposed to mean?” she questioned.

“What the fuck do you mean what’s that supposed to mean? He killed him of course he would know.” Piotr spoke matter-of-factly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. For a moment Matt’s phantom gaze met hers and they knew they had just uncovered a whole other list of problems. “He didn’t kill Anatoly Ranskahov.” Helena spoke firmly, sending a wave of relief through Matt, a small part of him had admittedly been a little afraid that Piotr had planted a seed of doubt and she’d turn on him.

“Well, the entire crime syndicate in Hell’s Kitchen thinks he did so as far as he’s concerned, he’s a wanted man.” He spoke with a thick accent.

“Fuck.”

An hour later, after dumping Piotr at the police station and changing into normal clothes, Helena sat on Matt’s couch carefully stitching up a cut he’d endured on his shoulder. He was wearing a pair of sweats that sat infuriatingly low on his hips, while she was wearing an old Columbia t-shirt and boxers from his closet. This interaction wasn’t new for them, they’d done this plenty of times during sleepovers, or after getting caught in the rain. But this time felt tense, and she knew perfectly well why, but it was easier to blame it on her wearing his clothes than acknowledge the fact that she was only getting closer and closer to telling him the truth, the whole truth.

“What are you thinking about?” Matt’s soft, low voice cut through her thoughts; she raised her eyes to scan his face before falling back down to where she was stitching him back together.

“Mm, just- everything I guess.” She hummed, “Can I ask you a question?”

“You just did.” He gave her a classic shit-eating grin before letting it soften into an encouraging and genuine smile. “Of course, go ahead.”

“Are you actually blind?” She asked hesitantly. She was more than a little shocked when the question pulled a small laugh from him. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, nothing. You’re just jumping right in.” he smiled fondly as she gave a chuckle of her own.

“Well, we have a lot of questions to go through between the two of us, figured I’d start with an easy one.”

And so, Matt told her everything. Spilled his guts everything.

He told her about his dad and about the accident. About the church and the orphanage and Father Lantom. About his abilities and Stick and his training. About Columbia when he met Elektra and nearly failed out of school. About the late-night fights, and the secret double life. About all of it.

“Thank you for trusting me with this.” Helena spoke earnestly after a beat. “I know it wasn’t easy to share.”

“Thank you for listening and not yelling at me or hitting me.” He smiled a bright, relieved smile. He felt elated it was the happiest he’d felt in weeks, like a weight had been lifted off of his chest. He was brought back to reality at the sound of Helena’s heart beating to an anxious rhythm. Her breathing grew slightly unsteady, and her cheeks grew warm with fear. “You don’t have to tell me, if you’re not ready.” He assured softly, placing a hand on her knee as a comfort.

“No, I want to, I need to, it’s just- it’s really hard.” Helena looked down as she fiddled nervously with her fingers, picking at the skin around her nails. Matt, picking up on the anxious tick, reached forward and took her hands in his, tangling their fingers together before she could do any damage.

“I’m listening whenever you’re ready. I promise that it won’t change what I think of you.” He encouraged, or how I feel about you he thought to himself.

Helena took a few centering breaths before sitting up a little straighter and gripping Matt’s hands a little tighter, readying herself to fly into the storm.

“Have you ever heard of the Red Room?”

a/n: WOOOOO I’m sure everyone already guessed it cause I was NOT subtle at all, but the cat is now officially out of the bag!!! But for real, this chapter took me sooooo fucking long to write but it was so worth it, and I am really proud of how it turned out! And super excited to write the next chapter completely dedicated to Helena’s backstory.

Hot person taglist: @freshabogados @elgrandeavocados @angelsfilth @moonlarking ​

Comment or dm me if you want to be added!!!

[fotibrit]

peter parker once asked if Tony is scared of the dark.

"What? Why would you think that? No, Im not."

"Why did you make sure your arc reactor glows then? You made a night light."

And now, when he gets nightmares of space and wakes up to the darkness of the room, the light of the arc reactor comforts him bc it reminds him of his kid

(SI made a line of night lights that month for an unrelated reason ofc)

[worldfullofash]

Pietro Maximoff headcanons

Bleached his hair so he could dye it. But he liked the bleached look more and decided to keep it.

Thinks it's fair to race with someone when he clearly has an advantage because of his powers

ABSOLUTELY LOVES sports. Especially basketball. None of the Avengers wants to play with him because he uses his speed to win. And afterwards he will call it a ‘fair game’

He believes in opposites attract

If you’re close, he sometimes wakes you up at 1am to steal all the snacks from the kitchen together

It annoys the heck out of Steve

That’s why he keeps doing it :,)

His accent gets thicker when he’s tired or angry

As someone with and accent when speaking English; i love that his accent gets appreciated

He’s very open minded

Spends a lot of money on shoes. He is picky about what shoes he buys

Pietro is very vain. This guy has MANY hairproducts.

Takes hygiene very seriously

Loves to listen to records and has a record player in his room.

He secretly loves the old songs Steve listens to

Pietro is definitely a dog person

Peter and him pull pranks on the Avengers all. The. Damn. Time.

His humor>> (Vision always takes his sarcasm seriously)

Pietro can easily comfort someone/cheer someone up. He knows how to read body language and takes the time to make his loved ones feel better

He feels very protective of Wanda (as he should). For a long time they only had each other. Despite now also having the Avengers, Pietro will always take care of his sister

Once when they were 8 years old a kid pushed Wanda off a swing. Pietro saw red and punched the kid in the face

This^^^

But he and Wanda can also argue over nothing (as siblings do obv)

I do think he was a bit shy/closed-off as a kid. After what Hydra/Strucker did to him, he became more bold and cocky

Pietro is a mama’s boy

When he was little, he used to hold his mother's hand while walking

He wants others to think he doesn't care about anything, but he overthinks quite often

Flirty but respectful

Teases everyone. Literally everyone. He doesn’t always do it to be flirty. He loves all the different reactions he gets. The reactions say a lot about a person

He craves validation from his loved ones

Missions are always fun and successful with him