#sam on the warpath. time to let go

[dreamersbcll]

“Godless” - for @krikeymate

———————————————————————

Sam could tell from the very moment she woke up that something was wrong.

She liked to attribute it to her sixth sense. Ever since she was little, Sam was able to tell when shit was about to go sideways. From the day she was slapped by her mother the first time to the day she found that cursed journal

That same sinking feeling in her gut. Like she swallowed a boulder, it sat in her stomach and weighed her down with dread and anxiety about what was coming next. The feeling usually disappeared after a while, but this one rotted in her stomach, festering her body with fear.

She decided not to let this feeling rule her and padded her way out to her living room. It was five in the morning, and she didn’t have to be at work until ten, so she might as well watch television.

Turning the television on, she skipped channels until she found the one she wanted. Living alone in a shitty apartment was rough, but not having a smart tv was the worst. Everybody else got to watch the latest Grey’s Anatomy episodes, while Sam watched a lot of public television. It was alright. She learned a lot about the weather and public events in Modesto.

Her favorite channel was the news. It was stupid, but she liked knowing what was happening around her. Strangely, it was comforting to know that other people had lives around her. That things were happening outside of her little bubble. Plus, it was easier to sleep when the gas prices flashed across the screen.

But this morning, with that pit of dread in her stomach, she admittedly hesitated to switch to the news. Something told her just to turn the television off, but like most warnings in her life, she plowed through it.

And there, on channel four news, she saw it.

Her baby sister’s face was plastered across the screen, a picture Sam hadn’t seen. It took her breath away at how grown-up her baby sister looked. It looked like some school photo- as Tara wore a peach long-sleeved shirt, her hair was down and stringy. Tara smiled big, but Sam could tell she was faking it.

Sam was so engrossed with the photo of her sister that she almost missed the headline flashing across the screen.

WARNING: DISTURBING SCENES

She cocked her head, watching the cameras pan around a house. Her old house. The house in Woodsboro. The one she was raised in. Why were they in her home?

The cameras panned around, zooming in on various shots of a clear scuffle.

Sam snorted. Of course, Christina fucked up her home. That woman could ruin anything she touched. But why would they do a piece on her mother being a stupid drunk? It’s not like it was news.

Naturally, Sam spoke too soon.

As the camera zoomed in, Sam felt her blood run cold. On the floor of what once was her kitchen, a broken picture frame, glass shattered around it. She knew that picture well. It was from the day she taught Tara how to ride a bike.

—-

“Okay, the brake is the right trigger. The left one is a brake too, but you shouldn’t use that. That one will stop super quick, and you’re not ready for that, okay?”

Tara looked up at Sam, her big brown eyes wide with fear. Her purple helmet wasn’t tight enough, slipping onto her forehead. Coupled with the splash of freckles over her nose and the braided pigtails on her shoulders, she looked utterly adorable. It was hard for Sam to be serious when her little sister looked like a little angel.

The two sisters were standing at the side of Tara's new bike. Well. Mostly new. Sam had stolen it from the elementary school and spray-painted it purple. Rummaging through her father’s toolbox, she had taken the training wheels off too. Now her baby sister could be just like all the other kids. Seven wasn’t too late of an age to learn how to ride a bike. Sam learned at eight years old from her friend Tracy’s mom.

She knew it was time for Tara to learn. Her baby sister had been begging for weeks to let her ride Sam’s big girl bike. But now, at the sight of her very own bike, her little sister looked unsure.

Frowning, Tara messed with the right brake, feeling the bike stop and go under her hand. She did the same with the left; her brow furrowed deeply.

Sam knelt by Tara’s side, cupping her cheek and gently rubbing her thumb in soothing circles. Her sister leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering closed.

“What’s wrong, baby girl? Are you okay? Am I going too fast?” she asked, smiling slightly at how Tara practically fell into her hand.

Her sister shook her head, jutting her lower lip in a pout. “No, Sammy. I’m just scared. What if I fall off?”

Sam held out her hand, and Tara took it without a second thought. Looking into her sister’s eyes, she saw a mirror of her younger self. Unsure. Scared. Nervous.

She knew she had to calm Tara’s fears. Nobody had done it for her, so she was determined to do it for Tara.

Anything for her baby sister.

“Listen, honey. You’re not going to fall. You know how I know that?”

Tara shook her head, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Sam smiled, squeezing Tara's hands. “I know that because I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall. I will protect you, okay? Always,”.

“Always?” Tara feebly asked.

Without hesitation, Sam answered. “Always. I promise,”.

Tara smiled and threw her arms around Sam’s neck. “Okay. I’m ready,”.

Sam hugged her back, basking in the warmth of her baby sister.

“Okay. Let's do it!”

Sam doesn’t quite know who took the picture. Maybe the twins' mother or even her father. All she knew was that she was thankful she had swiped that picture frame from Walmart. She knew it would come in handy one day.

She was proud to be Tara’a protector. She always would be. She promised.

—-

Now staring at that picture frame smashed on the kitchen floor she grew up in, Sam started feeling light-headed.

Bloodstains were smeared on the floor and a bloody handprint caked to the wall. Shattered glass was all over the kitchen floor, and yellow caution tape covered the whole scene.

And there she saw it.

Below the bloody handprint, but above the broken picture frame, was a messy word.

S A M A N T H A

Her name was scrawled in red paint on the wall. No, not paint, blood.

She swallowed hard, shivering at the frame. None of this felt real. What was going on? Why was her name on the wall of her old kitchen? And why was it in the blood?

Who’s blood was that?

As if answering her frantic thoughts, the camera flashed back to the news reporter, and Sam saw the new headline underneath him.

LOCAL WOODSBORO TEENAGER FOUND SLAIN IN HOME: NO LEADS AT THE MOMENT.

And there was her sister’s picture again. Right above the headline. Her smiling, beautiful baby girl. A new murder case for the local news to follow.

The room around her started to spin. This wasn’t right. Tara was eighteen now. She was supposed to graduate high school this year. Sam had the date on her calendar- she promised herself that she would see her baby sister walk across the stage. Now she’s dead.

Who would kill her baby sister? Who could take her instead of Sam?

She got up, stumbling her way to the bathroom. Falling to her knees, she emptied the contents of her stomach into the toilet. It was hot acid crawling up her throat. Shame and disgust burned in her gut, and her hands couldn’t stop shaking as they held onto the porcelain bowl.

Leaning back, Sam felt her back hit the wall, and she closed her eyes and tried to breathe.

This wasn’t right. Tara couldn’t be dead. Sam hadn’t even said hello again, much less goodbye. How could she be taken away from Sam? Who would do this?

She shakily got to her feet, hand on the wall to keep her upright. Making her way to the sink, Sam turned the water on as hot as possible. She needed to feel it tear the skin off her hands.

Something to tell her that this reality wasn’t her own.

Letting her hands grow red and angry under the steaming water, she looked up in the mirror, eyes widening at the reflection staring back at her.

Her father stood behind her, a strange look on his face. She wasn’t unaccustomed to seeing him, especially when she hadn’t taken her medication. But he usually smiled behind her, a shit-eating grin occupying his bloody face.

But Billy stood behind her, a knife in hand, blood dripping off the blade, a strange look on his face.

“You know why they did this, Sam. You know why they took her. Are you going to let that slide?” he growled, his eyes dark with bloodlust.

She swallowed hard, pulling her burnt hands from the scalding water. They were red and angry, and she couldn’t bend her fingers. Steam curled off her fingertips, and against her will, her hands shook.

“What can I do? She’s dead. She was murdered,” she choked out, her throat clenching in pain.

He just shook his head, blood spattering onto his soiled shirt.

“Are you going to let her die in vain? Are you going to let her death mean nothing?”

Sam shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. “No, no. She means everything. I promised to protect her. I promised,” she sobbed.

Billy leaned in, and Sam could feel him breathing down her neck. She shivered at the feeling.

But a genuine part of her loved knowing his control over her. It felt so fucking good to be understood and accepted for her bloodlust. Her natural state of chaos, the violence she craved to inflict on others who wronged her.

Maybe that’s why she was more than okay with his following few words.

“You can’t protect her now. But you can avenge her,” he whispered.

She straightened up, wiping the tears from her face.

“How?”

He grinned at her, and she felt something bloom in her chest.

Rage.

“You let me take over. And we will make sure that everybody knows not to fuck with the Loomis bloodline,”.

Sam blinked, and suddenly he was gone. She was left alone with just her own reflection in the mirror. Her own tear-filled eyes, and blistering hands. The pain radiated up her arms, making her teeth ache as she clenched them.

But the pain didn’t bother her. No, it was fuel. She knew Billy was right. It was time to let go of the pain she felt. It was time to inflict it on others. It was time for her revenge.

Tara wouldn’t die in vain. Sam promised to protect her. In life or death, Sam would make whoever murdered her baby sister pay for their sins.

And she would make it hurt like hell.

[daka-d3monb0y]

Random thing, nice job on the placement of colours! I noticed Eclipse's face is black and orange and Solar's is orange and black.

I missed him and his evilness very much 🥺

Welcome back, Eclipse.

Just putting a version with no text here

Honestly I can’t remember the last time I just drew Sun and Moon Show Eclipse outside of any of the AUs.

[supernotnatural2005]

A Welcomed Distraction

Parings: Dean x Reader

Word count: 1.5k

Summary: Torn between assisting the brother's coping mechanisms admits Chuck's warpath, Dean is quick to remind you who's the right choice.

Warnings: Fluff, Clingy Dean, Smutty themes (18+ ONLY!!)

AN: Just a little something that had been a WIP and finally got round to finishing lol 😅 i hope you all enjoy!

Masterlist

“Hey, Y/N/N’s!”

You come to a halt a few steps past Dean’s room at the sound of him calling out to you. You backtrack the couple of steps you’d taken and push his half-closed door fully open, smirking in amusement at the sight before you.  Dean is sprawled out on his front on the bed, his body propped up by his pillows, facing the TV you’d helped set up for him a few months ago.“What’s up?” You ask, glancing with a raised brow between him and the TV, which released a bloodcurdling scream.  “Hatchet Man marathon.” He explains with a chuckle, and you make a sound of disgust, accompanied by an eye roll.  “Hey, don’t crap on Hatchet man. It’s a classic.”  “Halloween, A Nightmare on Elm Street, and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre are classics.” You reel off with a count of your fingers. “Don’t taint good cinema horror with Hatchet man.” You mockingly scold, making him look even more offended.

“Now what did you want, Winchester?” You ask with a hand on your hip. 

You’d already promised Sam you’d help him with research on finding something to kill God with. Yeah, your already complicated life had become even more messy.

Whereas Sam scoured the internet and rummaged through the dusty archives looking for a way to stop God and his genocidal warpath on mankind, Dean had taken a completely different approach and sunk into a kind of defeated depression. So it had been up to you to help the younger Winchester, as of late.  However, you felt torn in half trying to appease both of them. Between helping Sam with research and making sure your boyfriend didn’t drink himself to death, you were exhausted.  “Not your hostility, that’s for sure.” Dean snarks, though there is a slight smirk on his lips. You chuckle and walk further into the room, coming to stand at the foot of his bed. “Fancy joining? And before you say no, I’ll even be nice and let you pick something else.” He interrupts you before you could protest.

You almost cave at the hopeful look on his stupidly handsome face. Instead you sigh, more so in remorse because you’d rather do nothing more. 

“I can’t. I promised your brother I’d help him with research.” You tell him guiltily, and he lets out a huff.

“You two are always researching lately; is there something more going on there that I should know about?”  Instead of dignifying that hideous accusation with an answer, you lean down to smack his arm, which was a rookie mistake as he anticipates your attack and pulls you down onto the bed with him instead. You yelp in surprise and grunt at the impact, but before you can react, his lips are pressing to yours. 

Your surprised squeak is drowned out by the soft press of his pillowy lips, and by default, your eyes flutter shut as you lose yourself in the feeling. With his large palm framing your cheek, fingers nestled deeply into your newly mused locks, he pulls away to stare down at you with a cheeky grin.

“You’re an asshole.” You mutter, albeit a little breathlessly, realising his intentions. Laughter erupts from Dean, laughter you hadn’t heard in a while, and you can’t help the fond smile upon hearing the sweet sound.

“You know I’m kidding. I appreciate you trying to be there for the both of us.” He admits honestly, a more adoring look crossing his features as his thumb gently glides back and forth across your cheekbone. Your hand slides up to join his on your cheek, and you smile lovingly up at him.  “I just wish he didn’t hog you so much.” He murmurs as he makes his descent to kiss at your jaw, your neck, taking his time to nibble and suck at your sweet spot when you can’t help but sigh in pleasure. Your hands automatically slide up his neck and into his hair, grasping onto the soft strands as his warm tongue glides over your pulse point, making you shiver.  “Didn’t peg you as the clingy type, Winchester.” You tease, though it comes out more of a moan as his lips and teeth tug at your earlobe, setting your nerve endings alight. You arch up into him, desperately craving friction against your rapidly dampening core. Dean pulls away then and grins down at you. 

“I could say the same thing about you, sweetheart.”

“Shut up.” You mumble before pulling him down by the collar of his shirt, claiming his lips in a heated kiss, too desperate to tease anymore. Dean quickly melts into it, moaning as your tongue slips past his lips. He secretly loved it when you got desperate and clingy; it only fuelled his desire. He nudges your legs apart and nestles comfortably between them, experimentally rolling his hips and making you gasp and break away from his mouth. Your hands slide down his toned, solid back toward his perky ass, and with a cheeky smile of your own and with a firm grasp, you pull his hips back into yours again. Both of you groaning at the friction this time. 

Dean begins a steady roll of his hips and leans down to claim your lips again, this time more insistent and devouring, leaving your lungs burning and core pulsing with desire. You moan into the kiss at the feel of his hand slipping under your top, his exploration purposeful and intentional on its ascent. His deft fingers slip under the cup of your bra, and he takes your full breast in his large palm, massaging the tender flesh as his lips begin trailing across your jaw and down the length of your neck. 

Your fingers are quick to slip into his neatly styled spikes, musing them in every which way as he sucks at your sweet spot. You sigh and thrust your hips up into his, feeling the solid length of him straining against his zipper. The friction between your bodies is both not enough but also just right. 

“Shit.” You moan, so lost in the feeling of him, you hadn’t realised his lips had navigated to your exposed breast until he was sucking the perked bud into his mouth. His tongue is warm and wet as it swirls around your nipple, the sensation shooting straight to your cunt. As if he knew what you needed, because of course he did. Dean knew your body as well as he knew his beloved Baby. He’d worked on you comparably more and just as thoroughly. His free hand quickly unbuttons your jeans before his long, thick digits slip under both fabrics, all the while his mouth remains latched to your chest. 

You release the longest sigh of relief as soon as his digits make contact with your throbbing clit. His deep groan of approval at the dampness he discovers there, sending shivers down your spine. 

“Fuck. You’re soaked, baby.” Dean praises as he rises on his elbow, hovering above you as his fingers begin to circle your bundle of nerves. You keen at the feeling, your hips rising on their own accord, pressing further into his hand to seek more. 

Dean smirks pridefully, but lust burns in his gaze as he watches what his touch does to you. The sweet sounds he pulls from you, all of it shooting straight to his cock. You rise up and claim his lips once more just as his middle finger dips into your soaked hole. Your hips roll in a steady rhythm, your clit brushing his palm with each movement, setting your nerve endings on fire. 

It still astonished you how quickly Dean could have you crumbling in a matter of seconds. His mouth, his touch, his attention direly distracting. It was both a gift and a curse. For instance, you had completely forgotten what it was you were supposed to be doing before you had entered his room. That is until that reason walked in.  “Y/N? You in he—oh, whoa! Sam exclaims and quickly turns away from the compromising position you and Dean were in.  “Shit.” You mutter and shuffle from under Dean, who takes the hint and shifts his weight off of you. “Sam, I’m sorry. I was coming.” You shoot Dean a look at his snicker at your poor choice of words, and he quickly silences. “Your brother is a menace.” You add pointedly for payback.

“Hey!” Dean complains, not appreciating your name-calling. You ignore him and quickly right yourself and fix your askew clothing just as Sam wearily peeks over his shoulder, fully turning around when he sees you both had separated and were less dishevelled.

“Actually, I was just coming to tell you not to worry now. Elaine is free tonight.” Sam explains and gives you an uncomfortable smile.  “Oh.” Is all you can form and meet Dean’s enlightened expression at the news?

“Well, that’s great, Sam.” Dean begins and rises from his spot on the bed. “Tell Elaine we said hi.” He adds with a wide grin as he wraps his arms around you and begins tugging you back towards the bed.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Sam stumbles and quickly evacuates the room just as you let out a squeal and the sound of the bed-frame creaking under the sudden weight of you both. Sam was quick to make his exit before any other noises, more scarring, traumatising ones, spilt from his brother's room.

AN: I hope you guys enjoy this little spicy once shot! 😜 Again I have a habit of making poor Sam the unintentional cockblock lol 😂 But I'm just going through all my WIP's (there's a lot 😅) and finally finish them. But let me know what you think! And I hope you enjoy.

[rhynestonez]

ASHES LEFT BEHIND (PART 4)

Warnings: small Sam x reader x Bucky

POISONED

The briefing room was dimly lit, from the pale blue glow of the monitors lining the far wall. Rain streaked along the windows, steady and rhythmic, tapping faintly as if to mirror the pulse of tension in the room.

Valentina stood at the head of the table, poised, calculated, always two steps ahead in her own mind. She let the silence hang, heavy and suffocating, before finally speaking.

“Well, clearly-“ she exhaled, arms crossing smoothly over her chest. “We have a situation.”

The image flickered on the screen behind her. Your face. Staring back at all of them.

The same image pulled from the files Bucky had recovered—the one that had been folded, dog-eared, studied.

Your file.

Your warpath.

The table was full: Yelena sat toward the end, chewing absently on a piece of gum, her sharp eyes flicking between the screen and Val. Walker leaned forward, arms planted on the table, frustrated tension brimming beneath his skin. Ava sat nearby, silent but alert, reading the room.

And then there was Bucky.

At the far end.

Silent.

His metal fingers hovered over the file in front of him, idly brushing the edge of the photo. Your photo. He hadn’t looked away from it since they sat down.

Valentina let her gaze flicker to him for half a beat before continuing.

“Walker, you’re the one with the closest contact so far. Why don’t you share?”

Walker sighed, adjusting his shoulders, as if still physically shaken by the last encounter.

“She’s—” he started, then paused, jaw twitching. “—more dangerous than any of you realize.”

Ava lifted a brow, voice smooth and dry. “We gathered that much from the body count, Walker.”

Yelena smirked faintly beside her, adding, “You mean the part where you got your ass handed to you on the roof?”

Walker’s head snapped toward them, annoyed. “That’s not what happened.”

“Oh, I think it is.” Yelena shrugged, unbothered. “You said she threw your shield off a building ‘like a frisbee’. Sounds like ‘ass handed’ to me.”

“Enough.” Val cut in, though her tone carried a small note of amusement beneath it. She let her eyes drift back to Walker. “Go on.”

Walker huffed, but his voice lowered, more serious now. “Look, I fought beside her a few times. Back when Sam was running things. Back when Barnes—” his eyes flicked toward Bucky, who still hadn’t looked up “—was running things too.”

He inhaled sharply, leaning forward.

“But this? This isn’t the same person I remember. She didn’t have that look in her eye either. She’s not just targeting criminals anymore. This is controlled. Surgical. She’s got a list.”

Valentina smiled thinly. “We noticed.”

“She’s unrecognizable-“ Walker continued, his voice tightening with a hint of guilt. “The way she fights now, the way she moves—cold. Brutal. She doesn’t hesitate like she used to.”

Bucky’s metal thumb pressed harder into the corner of your photo, the paper crinkling under the pressure. He still hadn’t lifted his eyes, his jaw locked tight.

Ava glanced at him briefly, noting the silence, then added her own observation. “Walker said he felt like he was being followed a few nights ago. Might’ve been her.”

At that, Bucky’s head finally lifted slightly. Not fully—just enough to show a flicker of awareness behind his narrowed eyes.

Valentina nodded, pleased. “Interesting.”

“She’s watching us now.” Ava continued, more to the room than to Bucky. “Getting bolder.”

Bucky exhaled slowly, barely audible, gaze shifting toward the middle of the table as if doing calculations in his head.

Following Walker. Watching the team. Watching me.

The more they spoke, the heavier the air sat in his chest.

“She shot at me, and hit me.” Yelena added, voice calm, almost clinical. “She definitely doesn’t hesitate.”

Walker shook his head. “It’s worse than that. I don’t think she would even care if she gets caught.”

Valentina leaned forward, voice low but sharp. “Which makes her unpredictable.”

Bucky’s stomach twisted. He could feel the weight of your bag sitting in his hotel room even now. The files. The maps. The names. The crossed-out photos.

And those final names at the bottom.

John Walker.

Yelena Belova.

Connected to Valentina.

His fingers flexed, metal scraping faintly against the table’s surface.

He heard his name spoken softly.

“Barnes?”

He blinked. Looked up.

Walker was staring at him expectantly. “You’ve worked with her longer than any of us. Knew her personally. What’s your read?”

For a beat, Bucky said nothing. His mind was elsewhere—lost somewhere between the rooftop that night and the memories that kept pulling at him from years past.

The way you used to fight beside him.

The way you used to smile at Sam’s bad jokes.

The way your voice sounded when you made him believe he wasn’t just the Winter Soldier.

He swallowed.

When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, strained.

“Walker’s right, she’s not the same person anymore.”

A long pause followed. No one filled the silence.

Valentina’s smile was thin, knowing.

“That’s why we’re here.”

-

The golden light of the setting sun filtered through the half-closed blinds, casting thin stripes across the blood-smeared floor. The air inside the room was heavy — hot, metallic, and stagnant. You stood quietly by the far wall, leaning against it as you watched him begin to stir.

The man groaned low, his head drooping forward as consciousness returned in painful fragments. A thin stream of blood trickled down from the gash on his forehead, weaving down his cheek like a slow-moving tear.

His eyes blinked open—confused at first—then wild once he realized where he was.

The heavy ropes binding his arms and chest cut deeply into his skin. His hands, bound tightly behind the chair, had already begun turning shades of purple-blue from how many times you had looped the cords around his wrists. Over and over and over. No room for error.

Panic set in fast. You could hear it in his breathing—a sharp inhale, chest rising and falling too quickly now. He shifted, yanking at the ropes instinctively, but there was no give. His eyes darted wildly around the room, searching for something—an exit, a weapon, a sliver of mercy.

You sat across from him, calm. Silent.

The handle of your knife rested casually in your palm, the blade catching the last rays of sunlight and reflecting them across his face in thin, dancing lines. The glint made him flinch.

You didn’t speak. Not yet. You wanted him to feel it first.

The dread.

The inevitability.

Only when his panicked eyes finally met yours—desperate, pleading—did you move. Slowly. You stood up, taking a single deliberate step forward. Then another. The knife twirled lazily between your fingers, the metal whistling faintly with every spin.

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, sweat starting to bead at his temples.

You stopped just in front of him, towering now, shadow swallowing him whole.

Finally, you spoke. One word, low and sharp like the knife in your hand:

“Eli.”

The name hung heavy in the air, slicing through whatever thin hope remained inside him. Even saying it, your jaw clenched involuntarily. The name tasted like rusted nails. The memories stung the back of your throat—brief flashes you tried to shove down: his face, his voice, what he had done to you.

Focus. Not now.

The man’s lips trembled slightly. His eyes flickered away for the briefest moment. “I—I don’t know who that is.”

Lie.

You saw it immediately. The hesitation. The micro-movements. You had studied liars for far too long not to notice.

You exhaled slowly, letting your frustration cool beneath your ribcage as you grabbed his hand—flattening it against the table. He fought, instinctively trying to pull back, but he couldn’t budge under your grip.

You offered him one final chance—a flicker of mercy in your cold, steady stare.

He didn’t take it.

The knife came down with precision.

The blade sliced through flesh like paper, carving deep into the palm of his hand. Blood surged up instantly, warm and thick, spilling across the wooden surface and splattering onto your fingers. His scream tore through the otherwise silent apartment, raw and animalistic.

You didn’t flinch.

The knife clattered onto the table as you grabbed his jaw, forcing his face toward yours.

“Where-“ you repeated, breath steady, voice like stone. “is Eli?”

He wheezed through his pain, chest heaving, but remained stubborn.

You could feel your patience draining.

No hesitation now—you snatched his other hand, forcing two fingers upright before snapping them back in one swift, brutal movement.

The cracking of bone was loud, grotesque. He howled again, tears breaking down his face, then you grabbed your knife, and pointed it close to his thigh, threatening to bring it down into his leg. His pride finally cracked with the rest of him.

“Okay! Okay—!” he cried, desperate now, chest convulsing, voice broken. “He’s outside the city—two towns over. He’s staying put now—always moves but—but he’s permanent there now. Please—please—I told you!”

You didn’t respond right away.

Instead, you retrieved the folded map from your bag, snapping it open and laying it flat in front of him. His breath came in stutters as he leaned forward as much as his bonds allowed, using one trembling, blood-soaked finger to mark the location.

You studied the mark carefully. Then cross-referenced it against the scattered notes you’d already compiled over the past few weeks.

It aligned.

The pieces were fitting together now.

As he continued to sob behind you, still muttering apologies, you circled the location calmly. Another step forward. Another path locked into place.

You circled behind him again, slowly tightening the black glove over your bruised knuckles. His trembling voice filled the air like static.

“Please—you have what you want. Please don’t—”

The plea died in his throat as you slipped an arm around his neck, your other hand locking behind his head. You squeezed. Hard. His legs kicked weakly beneath him for a few seconds, ropes creaking against the chair. His breath shortened, sputtered—then stopped. The body sagged forward, lifeless.

You stepped back.

Another one done.

Wiping the blood from your knife onto his shirt, you calmly returned the weapon to its sheath. You folded the map precisely, slipping it back into your bag, now heavier with the weight of a new target.

As you crossed the room, you stepped over the second body—the earlier one—gagged, bound, long since dead. His hand still resting beside the words you forced him to write with his last breath:

ELI

You paused briefly, giving the room one last sweep before slipping out into the darkening streets.

The sun was nearly gone now.

And you were getting closer.

The alley was narrow, damp, half-swallowed by the city’s quiet hum. Faint flickers of dying neon signs reflected off the wet asphalt, painting your boots in ghostly red and blue as you trudged through. The weight of your bag pulled at your shoulder, every step heavier than the last. You could feel your pulse thudding in your temple, that same sickening rhythm that hadn’t left you since the last kill.

Not that long ago.

Not far enough behind you.

You didn’t mean to stop, but your legs suddenly lost momentum. Like your body finally rebelled. A stuttering breath pushed through your chest, and you stumbled toward the wall—one hand bracing against the cool brick, the other clutching your thigh to hold yourself upright.

“Fuck.” you whispered, barely audible, voice tight.

The air was thick. The dampness of rain, sweat, and city grime clung to your skin like a second layer. The golds and reds of the streetlights flickered in your peripheral, blurred and distant. You lowered yourself into a squat against the wall, heels barely flat, elbows resting on your knees as your hands hovered mid-air—trembling. They shook in those small, erratic jerks that you couldn’t stop.

Your fingers flexed, curled, flexed again.

Breathe.

In through your nose.

Hold it.

Out. Slow.

Again. And again.

The spiraling thoughts clawed for control—the chase, the blood, the bag you lost, him—but you forced them out. One breath at a time. If you let it all in now, you’d break apart right here. And you couldn’t afford that.

Eyes locked on nothing, you stared at the broken concrete between your boots. One tiny crack. Like a fracture in your own head.

The bags under your eyes burned.

Your jaw ached from how tight you’d been clenching it.

Your stomach twisted itself into knots you couldn’t loosen.

“Stay sharp.” you whispered to yourself. “You don’t get to fall apart yet.”

A distant car horn snapped you out of the moment. You blinked hard, forcing the moisture back from your eyes, shoving the panic back down where it belonged.

You wiped your palms on your pants, twice, trying to steady them. The tremor didn’t stop completely, but it was enough.

Enough to keep going.

You stood, adjusting your bag, rolling your shoulders back like armor sliding into place. The city stretched out before you again — ugly and waiting.

One more breath.

And you moved.

-

Bucky sat on the edge of his hotel bed, phone in hand, thumb hovering over Sam’s contact. His breathing was shallow, chest tight. The rain outside beat softly against the window like a metronome to his anxiety.

He hit call.

The line rang once. Twice.

Three times.

No answer.

He sighed heavily, gripping the phone tighter, jaw locking. He tried again. And again.

Nothing.

His frustration boiled under his skin. Finally, with a grunt of defeat, he threw the phone onto the bed, where it bounced once before landing face down. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands gripping his hair as he exhaled through clenched teeth.

What the hell am I even doing?

The phone buzzed suddenly. His head snapped up. The screen lit up:

Sam calling.

Bucky snatched the phone up and answered, almost too quickly. “Sam—”

There was silence on the other end. Sam let him speak first.

“I need to ask you something.” Bucky said, voice low, strained. “It’s… it’s about..”

A pause. Then you said your name, slowly.

Then Sam’s voice came, calm but cautious. “What about her?”

Bucky licked his lips, trying to find the right words — but there weren’t any. “I just… after I left— after everything— what happened to her?”

Sam was quiet for a moment. The silence stretched just long enough to make Bucky’s stomach twist.

“She obviously didn’t take it well Bucky.” Sam finally said, voice low. “She freaked. Got angry. Sad. She blamed herself. Then you. Then just about everyone. And then soon after, she left too.”

Bucky’s throat felt tight. “Left where?”

“-To her brother’s place. Stayed with him for a while. She used to call me every few days to check in, but the line went cold after a few months.”

Bucky’s head jerked slightly. That part he didn’t know. “Wait… brother?”

“Yeah-“ Sam replied with a faint sigh. “She’s got a brother. Didn’t talk about him much — you know how she is. But yeah, she stayed there after you left.”

Bucky felt something hollow form in his chest. His mind raced. The image of you — alone, spiraling — hit harder than he expected. The weight of his choices pressed down heavier.

“Did something happen with her?” He asks, almost panicked.

“No.” Bucky says without thinking, not meaning to lie but it slipped out.

“Have you even talked to her?” Sam asks, coldly. Bucky bites the inside of his cheek.

“No.” Is all he says. But he could hear the scoff come from Sam on the other end.

“She’s one of my best friends y’know, and now I haven’t heard from her in a year and a half.” Sam explains. The tightening in bucky’s chest getting worse.

There was a long beat of silence.

Then Sam spoke again, quieter, more serious now. “You hurt her bad, Bucky.”

Bucky’s breath hitched.

Sam continued, his voice steady but cutting. “She thought you two were- you know,something more. I saw it, man. Hell, everyone did. The way you looked at her. The way she looked at you.”

Bucky’s heart pounded.

“For you to just walk away from her like that.” Sam said, voice hardening, “-and not even say goodbye.”

Bucky’s mouth opened but nothing came. He swallowed hard, words stuck in his throat. All he managed was:

“I was scared.”

Sam didn’t say anything right away. When he did, his tone was colder than before. “Yeah. Well… look where we are now.”

The line went dead.

Bucky sat there, frozen, the silence of the room deafening. The soft rain outside seemed distant, insignificant compared to the heaviness inside him.

His hand fell to his lap, still clutching the phone like it might somehow offer him comfort. But it didn’t.

The image of you flashed through his mind — your eyes, your smile, the way you laughed when it was just the two of you. Then the way you looked the last time he almost caught you — cold, haunted, unrecognizable.

He buried his face in his hands.

⸻

Flashback:

The soft hum of the summer breeze carried the scent of grilled food and ocean salt through the open yard of Sarah Wilson’s house. The sun was starting its slow descent, bathing everything in gold. The sound of kids’ laughter echoed across the yard as people milled about—family, friends, neighbors all gathered for one of Sarah’s famous cookouts.

You pulled up quietly, slipping through the side gate with a small smile. Before you could even close the latch behind you, a chorus of excited voices erupted from the far side of the yard.

“There she is!”

“Guys look!”

“Over here!”

You barely had a second to react before a wave of small bodies crashed into you — Sam’s nephews and half the neighborhood kids. Their arms wrapped around your waist, clinging to you like vines as you opened your arms wide to catch them all.

“Well, look who’s gotten bigger since the last time I saw you!” you laughed, feigning dramatic shock. One of the kids tugged at your sleeve while another threw a pretend punch to your side.

“Oh no—” you gasped, clutching your ribs and stumbling slightly for their amusement. “Is that all you’ve got? Weak punches. You need better training, kiddo.”

The kids erupted into giggles, immediately throwing more pretend strikes and kicks while you swayed and blocked with playful exaggeration. Their giggles filled your chest with a rare kind of warmth, one you didn’t always allow yourself to feel anymore.

“Alright, alright, let her breathe, would ya?” Sam’s voice called out from across the yard, making the kids groan in protest.

You gently unwrapped their arms from around you and gave a few heads soft ruffles. “I’ll come play again later, promise.”

They pouted as you made your way toward Sam, who greeted you with a hug that pulled you in a little tighter than usual.

“Hey.” you smiled against his shoulder.

“Hey yourself.” he replied, grin slightly wider than casual. “You look good.”

“I try.”

There was a little pause before he leaned back, lowering his voice. “Listen… I got someone I want you to meet.”

Your brow lifted slightly. “Oh?”

“But—” Sam added quickly, “—I’m giving you fair warning: he’s a bit of a flirt.”

You rolled your eyes with a small smirk. “So you’re setting me up.”

“Not setting you up. Just… introducing.” He gave a half-shrug, eyes glinting with something unreadable for just a second. “C’mon.”

Before you could push him any further, Sam turned, waving someone over from near the grill. You followed his gesture—and your breath caught, just slightly.

Walking toward you was a man you hadn’t seen before. Broad frame, strong shoulders, short dark hair, a quiet steadiness in his stride, but something else too—a kind of softness behind the eyes. Shy, maybe. Guarded. But curious.

He stopped a few feet in front of you, and Sam made the introductions.

“This is Bucky.” Sam’s tone was easy, but his eyes flicked sideways for just a beat too long. “And this is—well, you know who this is.”

You held out your hand, offering a friendly smile. “Nice to meet you.”

Bucky hesitated only briefly before his larger hand wrapped around yours. “Nice to meet you too.”

The handshake lingered a moment too long. His thumb barely brushed your knuckles before pulling back. His gaze flickered over your face with an open, but unreadable admiration.

“Sam’s told me a lot about you.” Bucky said softly.

“Oh yeah? Hopefully only the bad things.”

That earned a quiet chuckle from Bucky, and you noticed the slight curve of his lip like he was holding back a grin. “Mostly bad things. But I like to judge for myself.”

Sam groaned loudly, breaking the little pocket of electricity between you. “See? Flirt.”

You laughed, and even Bucky flushed slightly at Sam’s teasing. Still, the ice was broken. And for the rest of the evening, you and Bucky kept gravitating toward each other, as though drawn together by some quiet, unspoken thread.

Hours passed.

You sat together on the porch swing, kids shrieking in the distance as dusk settled. Bucky had his arm draped lazily across the back of the swing, posture relaxed but eyes still studying you. He spoke softly about Brooklyn, while you offered little mischievous stories about your shared history with Sam.

Every now and then, Sam would glance from the yard toward the two of you, quiet but thoughtful. Watching.

At one point, the kids roped you both into their pretend pirate battle. You squared up against Bucky with exaggerated drama, poking him in the ribs with a foam sword.

“Oh no, you’ve got me.” he gasped, falling theatrically into the grass.

The kids roared with laughter as you stood victorious above him. Bucky lay still for a moment, staring up at you, something flickering in his eyes—warmth, curiosity, and something a bit softer than either.

From a distance, Sarah nudged Sam with a knowing glance. “They’re cute.”

Sam’s mouth twitched. “Yeah… sure.”

His voice was light, but behind it was the smallest flicker of something else. Not jealousy, not exactly—but maybe a complicated little knot of protectiveness, fondness… and a quiet awareness that he wasn’t quite the only one who saw something special in you.

Neither you nor Bucky noticed.

From that night forward, something unspoken simmered.

A few weeks passed. The spark stayed.

Today, Sarah had invited everyone again — nothing fancy, just casual work around the house. Sam had mentioned you’d be coming by, and Bucky found himself arriving earlier than necessary.

The afternoon air was warm, thick with the smell of fresh-cut grass and ocean breeze. Bucky stood near the porch as Sam worked on one of the railings.

“You see me sweating here?” Sam grumbled, hammering away.

“I’m providing moral support.” Bucky replied, crossing his arms.

“That’s not moral support, that’s loitering.”

Bucky smirked, but Sam leaned slightly toward him. “She’s gonna be here today.”

Bucky feigned disinterest. “Who?”

“You know who.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Bucky muttered, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeve.

Sam narrowed his eyes knowingly. “Man, you’re the worst liar I’ve ever met.”

“I’m just being friendly.”

“Friendly, huh? That why you stare at her like you’re mapping out constellations?”

Bucky sighed. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t.” Sam flipped a burger, before growing slightly more serious. “Just don’t mess with her, alright? She means a lot to me.”

There was something beneath Sam’s voice—not quite a warning, not quite a confession. But Bucky heard it.

Bucky nodded, voice low. “I won’t.”

Just then, the familiar sound of tires crunching gravel made both men glance toward the driveway.

You stepped out of the car, casual but radiant as ever. The kids spotted you instantly, taking off in full sprint to greet you.

Bucky glanced once — and Sam caught the shift again, quietly grinning to himself.

“Friendly.” Sam muttered under his breath.

[the-firebird69]

Paul McCartney - Band on the Run (Live)

He said he's laughing and saying sailor Sam is next door and I think it's you and he says oh boy so he started giggling you said what am I doing I don't know you're the band on the run it hasn't started yet or something so he's laughing going oh terrific and it's going on now looks like a whole bunch of little chips and it really is and they're coming out of the middle and they're heading towards the South if it looks like and then coming out of the ocean and it is going on no that's weather from ships and they are pseudo empire ships and to moving around out in the ocean they're actually looking for something and what does that look strange and there are a couple announcements we're going

-we have a period here where people are going to start becoming very odd they said and that was what they said about the warlock not really sure what they're talking about we are sure though they're going to be strange to people who are mean to them thinking they gained power or something. They're going to be mean to the pseudo empire because the foreigners are going to come in and us so it doesn't make sense so they're kind of hashing it out and they're saying we all sudden get something we've been very mean to him and our son says that you guys are falling and once you're doing bad things and getting caught at it some of you are moving to your areas and keeping it please know but the foreigners in mine have to move in here because of the macs and it's less to do with you than it is Mac proper and even these pseudo empire is somewhat of an ambiguity. And they are laughing because the name sounds like that. But he's right this is a time where these other two groups they're going to have to come in and try and pull their weight and stop the Max from being so absurd and they're at war with him they are realizing that it just don't know their place and they realize that they're and ruining their day and night but they're also getting them to do stupid things to people and they have to protect themselves more notably from being picked up by them for stuff and they say it like that and it's been going on here for a while so they do know what they're talking about with regards to they have to try and figure out what to do in the pseudo empire does too and I it would be a new day tomorrow and the following days be very different and the empire will probably retain its feet and slowly lose it but nowhere near abruptly has this happened they will lose it probably over a period of a year and people don't believe it but that's because they have so much stuff underground and they might get their Stone chips out that's going around too there's a huge buzz it's a lot of talking and a lot of guessing and theory and they want to know what are some things and he's saying this ebike tire is gigantic. It's true too it's as big as a big motorcycle like a real big one so besides that we have a weird weather pattern and it's from Stone ships dragging moisture up and pretty good too A lot of it and it's probably going to rain

-there is a huge contingent of empire ships that is trying to get to the United States and Florida the pseudo empire is terrified and they don't know what to do the are spaceships and they're trying to go over the airspace and they're being blocked by foreigners and us and they say why and we say because and they said that's where we are and we need to defend ourselves against morlock and things like that and would you fight their battles and there is a protocol but we have to control areas where are people might be let me know about it and so they are getting pretty pissed off and they're mad because Tommy f is still in the way and they can't get to him either but we simply can't let everybody run around here and it's true right now they're very hot and they want to kick him out there are a couple more things going on Tommy f is on the warpath against the max of course but people who were backstabbing and he's going to exact revenge so we have to stop him if he's trying to threaten her son for it to get whatever he thinks and there's other things too

-the foreigners are very upset at the empire they don't want them gaining power they realize it's going to be a little different and slower than thought but they're down there fighting and they have to stop them and we do too there's some game plans being made and we are as well it will be aggressive and the empire is going to complain we may experience problems and we're going to have to go through them and here is no different so we need to have our son in better shelter with communications that are better and have his friends talk to him and and be able to move and then right now it's ridiculous and these guys still want to extort and they're ridiculous right now we are forced to come in as the pseudo empire is coming in and they're dangerous and violent people and we are going to make sure they're stopped we're doing that now

-foreigners are also demanding entry has been a long time and they are realizing what the underworld really means and it is a lot of work but they're going to be here starting tomorrow and they'll have a presence and yeah the max morlock will be pushed down possibly even the pseudo empire we're not sure what the relationship will be it's always been kind of sour but they have had negotiations before it's coming up pretty quick there's a few other items the warlock are continuing to attack the pseudo empire they are up in the northern hemisphere of the western hemisphere and they are attacking those bunkers they're down to 35% but the ones in New England are still there the Eastern portion of the upper Midwest and Canada at that location and the West near BC Oregon and Washington but tonight massive armies are going there and they're going to try and take them down and it is going to be a massive war and we are going to be witness to it tonight and tomorrow. We have a couple more things we're going to print this is huge

Thor Freya

Olympus

Zues Hera

[maximons]

Can’t Stand You

Summary: Wanda and Y/n cant stand each other, so much so that their constant fighting forces Steve to take measures to put an end to it. But what happens when things don’t go according to plan?

Word Count: 5,295

Genre: Angst w/ happy ending

Requested?: No

Warnings: Suggestive language, implied sex, stabbing, drowning, mentions of blood, implied death

A/N: Yo, I went offff on this one lmao I started this thinking it was gonna be a fun Enemies to lovers and then boom, this came out, soooo enjoy? Lol Also pleaseee send some requests, I’d love to make stories with your guys’ ideas

Never stick Wanda Maximoff and Y/n L/n in a room together for too long.

Unless you want to be in caught in one of their warpaths when they leave.

The Avengers learned very quickly that Y/n and Wanda hated each other. Nobody really comprehended why, in fact when you joined the team, everyone had assumed that you and her would be fast friends.

You were both young women, you had similar backgrounds, similar interests, a similar sense of humor. On paper, you should’ve been inseparable.

But reality was a different story.

Everything had started out well enough. While you two were never best friends per say, you got along. You worked well together and could at least tolerate the others existence.

That only lasted about a month though, and then the animosity started. 

No one could really pinpoint what the catalyst was. Sam had suggested it was when Wanda ran into a random woman you slept with when she was eating breakfast. Clint had thought it was when Wanda began dating Vision. Natasha disagreed with both of them and thought it started when Wanda was careless during that one mission and broke her arm.

No one knew for sure.

And they knew they couldn’t count on either one of you to tell them why. Hell, neither one of you probably could even if you wanted to.

While it was amusing to watch you two go back and forth at first, it started interfering with your work. Whenever the two of you were on missions, you two couldn’t help the snide remarks, distracting the rest of the team members who were on the mission with you. It was getting to a point where it’s a real hindrance.

And Steve wasn’t going to let that fly.

When Steve called you and Wanda into his office, you didn’t know what to expect. But it definitely wasn’t his bright idea to make you two get along.

“You want us to what!?” Wanda exclaimed, beating you by one second.

“You heard me. You two are becoming an issue, and we need to fix it.”

“You’re absolutely right, Cap. I’d be more than happy to help Wanda pack her bags.”

“Oh please, if anyone here should go, it’s you. My powers are way more useful than yours.”

“Yeah, useful for chaos and destruction. Last time I checked, one of us was a HYDRA lab rat and tried to help an evil robot take over the world. And it ain’t me, princess.”

“Well at least my powers aren’t stupid. Controlling water? What’s next, talking to fish?”

“Hey, controlling...wet things has helped me on more than one occasion.” You smirked, and Wanda scoffed.

“You’re fucking disgust-”

“ENOUGH!” Steve roared, causing the two of you to turn to him with wide eyes. Steve was always the level-headed leader, and it was very rare to see him snap like that, especially to his teammates.

Damn, you must have really pissed him off.

Steve took a deep breath, bringing his fingers to his temples in an effort to calm down. “Neither one of you are leaving the team, you are both way too important.” You knew he meant that in more ways than one, and it made you smile a little. You looked over and saw Wanda also give a small smile, which caused you to wipe yours off your face.

“So what do you want us to do?” You asked.

“You two need to get along. It’s becoming a major distraction on missions, and I won’t allow that. You don’t need to be best friends, you don’t even need to like each other, but what’s happening now needs to end.” Steve took a deep breath, knowing what he was going to say next would get a negative reaction. “I’m sending you two on a mission. Alone.”

“What!?” You both exclaimed.

“Again, you heard me. It just so happens that this mission requires both of your skillsets, you’ll need to rely on one another to get through it.”

“Sorry, do you want the mission to fail? She’s impossible to work with!” Wanda shouted.

“Sounds like someone’s projecting.” You muttered.

“I’ll project my foot up your-”

“Stop!” Steve interrupted again, this time less angry and more annoyed. “It’s either this, or you both are suspended until further notice.”

You rolled you’re eyes and threw your head back with a groan. You shifted your eyes over to Wanda and saw here cross her arms. You both knew being stuck in the compound with the other for who knows how long would be torture. Much worse than a mission would be. You both took a deep breath and agreed.

“Fine.”

The next morning, you and Wanda would meet in the hanger, where an agent would fly a quinjet to take you two to the mission location. You were waiting outside the jet, impatiently checking your watch, waiting for the witch to show up.

This is so fucking stupid.

“Couldn’t agree more.” Wanda said, as she walked in. You rolled your eyes, realizing she read your mind.

“Stay out of my head.”

“Oh please, like I’d want to go in there. Your thoughts are too loud.”

“Mhm.” You muttered, not really believing her. “Corset’s looking a little tight there, Maximoff. I’m not complaining though, makes your boobs look great.” You gave an ‘ok’ sign with your hand. Wanda scoffed.

“Where’s your orange jumpsuit and trident? You need to go back and change? I can wait.”

You shot her a blank stare. “For the last time, I’m not Aquaman.”

“Yeah, you’re not as cute.”

“Funny. Hey, did you get to say goodbye to your walking talking vibrator? Or is that what took you so long?”

“Don’t talk about him like that, L/n. Let’s just get this over with.” 

“What’s the rush? Trying to hurry back for more?”

“Shut the hell up already.”

You both climbed in the jet, and took off. About two hours of annoying the hell out of the pilot later, you arrived.

“I’ll be on standby, good luck.” The pilot said, but you could tell he was just happy to get you two out of his sight.

“Alright, let’s just stick to the plan. No crazy rogue stunts again.” You said.

“That happened one time, and I remember it saving Steve’s life.”

“Don’t be dramatic, he would’ve been fine, and you ruined the mission.”

“Whatever, just stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours.”

“Roger.” You saluted sarcastically.

The mission was a simple one. Go in, get the data you need, extract the weapons, and get out. The area would be guarded so that’s where Wanda came in handy. Your job was to download the data. You and Wanda would reunite to grab the weapons before bailing.

“I still don’t get why you’re here. I could have done this on my own, easily.”

“It’s in a submarine. A mile under the surface.” You deadpanned as the two of you walked up to the edge of the dock. You smirked when you saw Wanda’s face fall in realization that you were right. She’d never admit it though, so this was satisfaction enough. “You’re more than welcome to try on your own though, go ahead.” You laughed, Wanda rolled her eyes yet again.

“Let’s just get this over with.” Wanda said, waiting for you to do your thing, but nothing happened. She looked over at you, and you had your arms open, staring at her. “What are you doing?”

“We need to be close so I can form an air bubble around us.”

“What, you can’t form two?” She quirked up an eyebrow.

“Yeah, but it’d drain my energy, and this is only the first part of the mission. I need it.”

Wanda wasn’t sure she believed you, but she wasn’t in the mood to argue anymore. “Fine.” She walked into your arms, and wrapped hers around you as you closed yours around her. She tried not to notice how perfectly she fit in your arms. You had only a few inches on her, but it worked. Hugging you felt...nice. And, oh wow, have you always smelled this good?-

“Uh, you good?” You interrupted Wanda’s thoughts. She pulled her head back from your chest and looked up at you, you already looking down at her. Oh wow, you have really nice eyes-

Focus Wanda.

“Yeah, c’mon what are you waiting for?” 

“Alright.” You tightened your grip on Wanda. “Ready?” Wanda only trusted herself to nod in this moment. She had to get out of your arms ASAP. “One. Two. Three.” You counted down, and you jumped in the water below. You quickly formed an air bubble around the two of you, and took control over it, pushing it as fast as you could downward.

You arrived outside of the submarine. You directed the bubble to the part of the sub that the plans said would be the least guarded. “Your turn.” You said. Wanda unwrapped one of her arms from you, and red tendrils began to poor from her hand. They wrapped themselves around the metal door, and Wanda yanked her hand back, pulling it open. Water started flooding the sub, and you quickly pushed yourselves inside. Once inside, you used the water outside to force the door back closed.

You and Wanda made your way down the hall, away from the flooded room, and towards the center of the ship, where you knew the main server would be. Wanda looked over to you and saw you smirking. “What?” She asked, annoyed.

“Nothing.”

Your smirk was still plastered on your face, and she realized. “You didn’t have to make only one air bubble did you?” She already knew the answer.

“Nah, I could’ve easily made two.” You felt a sharp elbow at your side, but you just laughed. 

“You’re such a jerk. Are you trying to make this thing as hard as possible?”

“Yeah, yeah, lecture me later. It was still funny though.” You laughed again, jogging slightly ahead of Wanda. You hid your body behind the wall and peeked your head around the corner. You saw the entrance to the server room, but there were several HYDRA goons surrounding it. “Do your thing, witchy.”

Wanda walked towards the guards and raised her hands. Red beams surrounded all the agents in the room. She rose her hands, raising all the guards up and slammed them against the ceiling. They all fell to the ground, unconscious.

You rose your eyebrows and let out a whistle, causing the witch to turn to you. “Impressive.” Wanda tried to suppress the small smile that formed, but she couldn’t.

What is going on with me? I hate this woman, what am I doing?

“Just go.”

“Roger.” You ran forward, around the unconscious guards, and entered the server room. You pulled the flash drive out of your duffel bag, and plugged it in, beginning the download.

Unbeknownst to either of you, one of the guards had enough energy in him to hit a button on his belt.

After several minutes, you had everything you needed. You pulled out the drive quickly, shoving it back in your bag and ran back out of the room, meeting Wanda. “Done. Let’s go for the weapons.”

The both of you started jogging down the halls, making your way to the weapons room. The lack of guards caught your attention. “This is a little too easy, something’s up.”

“What, not used to missions going so well, huh? See what happens when you let me actually do my job?”

“Wanda, I’m serious.”

Wanda turned her head to look at you, eyebrows furrowed. She wasn’t used to you sounding serious, so it caught her attention. Before she could say anything though, she noticed your eyes go wide. You turned your head to the opposite wall, before quickly turning back to her.

“LOOK OUT” You shouted, as you threw yourself over to Wanda. You wrapped yourself around her, protecting her from the small explosion that was set off a half a second later.

The blast was big enough to throw you both into the opposite door. You managed to flip yourselves so you went from taking the impact of the blast, to taking the impact of the door, and the impact of landing in the ground.

You and Wanda opened your eyes at the same time, and your breath hitched at how close your faces were. You vaguely notice your arms are tightly wrapped around her waist, and her hands gripping your shoulders, all you can focus on were her eyes. “You okay?”

Wanda took a deep breath to calm herself, the past few moments catching up with her. “Yeah...thanks.”

You normally would’ve cracked about your closeness or how she actually thanked you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to in this moment. So you settled for “No problem.”

After a few moments of staring at each other, Wanda hopped off of you as if she was burned. Well that was nice while it lasted. You slowly rose and stood up as well.

You both headed out into the hallway. “What the hell was that?” Wanda asked. You took in the scene the explosion left behind. A large crack was formed along the submarine wall, causing water to flow in at an alarming rate. Before you can comment, several goons ran from around the corner, heading towards you two.

“Fantastic.” You muttered. Wanda’s hands and eyes started to glow red as she started fighting. You attempted to use your powers to draw in some of the water that was spilling into the ship, but doing so only made the crack bigger, so you stopped. “You gotta be kidding.” You settled for hand to hand combat and started fighting alongside Wanda.

It seemed as if you guys were winning, you were both knocking down bad guys with ease, and working surprisingly well together as a team. But of course, nothing could be easy for long.

You heard Wanda let out a yelp, you turned to see her be thrown back. Anger filled your gaze, and you went over the asshole who hurt her. You threw a punch, but he saw it coming. He caught your fist, and twisted it. You yelled out in pain, but he didn’t stop there. He took out a dagger from his belt, and shoved it in your abdomen.

“Y/N!” You heard Wanda yell. You doubled over, and the guard pushed you down to the ground, right next to where Wanda was. She immediately went to check on you, but your attention remained on the guard. He reached down to his belt again, wrapping his and around what looked to be a button. A detonator. Your eyes widened.

“Hail Hydra.” He said before pressing the button. Another, bigger explosion sounded out down the hall, you recognized it was in the weapons room. A third explosion went off down the hall behind you, that must’ve been the server room. Water was now filling the ship from all sides. Fast. 

They weren’t fighting to defeat you. They were fighting to distract you.

Wanda applied pressure to your stomach, as she turned and sent a powerful blast towards the agents, sending all of them flying down the hall. She then formed a forcefield around you both, buying some time.

“Just hang on, okay? We’ll get you out of here.” You were on the brink of unconsciousness, so you could’ve been hallucinating, but you could’ve sworn you saw tears begin to form and run down the witch’s face. You gave her a small smile and shook your head.

“It’s okay.” You breathed out. Wanda began shaking her head as well.

“No, no, don’t start. Not now. We’ll get out of here.”

You knew that wasn’t going to happen. You were very low on energy, and severely injured. You couldn’t muster up enough energy to get you both back up to the surface.

But you had enough to get her out.

You reached into your bag and pulled the flash drive out, and grabbed Wanda’s hand, placing the drive in it. You closed her fist around it, and you looked into her eyes. “Get...get this back to Cap.” You said weakly. 

“You can give to him yourself.” Wanda seethed out. She was getting desperate. She knew the situation didn’t look good, but she wasn’t gonna give up on you.

“I’m...sorry...for making your...life hell...maximoff” You managed to wheeze out.

“Apologize to me later, we gotta go!” She cried out.

“Yeah....you do...” With that, you used your some of your dwindling stregnth to kick Wanda away from you, causing her to lose concentration on her force field. She landed by the wall with the crack in it, water surrounding her. She looked up at you, pleading in her eyes.

“Y/n, please!”

You didn’t answer as you raised your hand towards her. You summoned water through the crack, enlarging it enough so Wanda could fit through. When it was large enough, you surrounded Wanda’s entire body with water before quickly forming an air bubble around her.

You then pushed her out of the sub, sending her towards the surface as fast as you could. After a few moments, you saw the agents flowing back into the room, guns pointed at you. “Shit.” You whispered, you turned your attention towards where your hand was pointed and held it for a little while longer. When you knew Wanda got close enough to the surface where she can swim up, you let go, and turned your attention to the guards.

You laid down, looking at the ceiling, and spread your arms out. Hands wide. You lifted you head up to look at the guards as best as you could and smirked.

“Game over.”

With that you closed your fists, and drew your arms inward. The water from the the three openings flowed in very quickly, as well as new openings forming. You and the guards quickly became submerged but you didn’t stop, determined to end it all together.

You closed your eyes.

Wanda was desperately trying to break free from your bubble, but she couldn’t. As she was getting further and further from the ship, she began to sob. She couldn’t leave you down there. She couldn’t lose you. She needed you.

And when she came about a foot away from the water’s surface, the air bubble disappeared. 

No

She held her breath, and swam up to the surface to catch some air. Once she did, she started to swim down again. She knew it was in vain, she couldn’t get down there fast enough on her own, but dammit she was gonna try.

But then, she managed to see the ship implode.

She screamed in agony. Air bubbles flowing out of her mouth from the action. Tears began to flow out of her again, blending with the salty sea. She then gave up the fight, letting herself float back up to the surface.

You were gone.

One month later

It’s been hell for Wanda since your...disappearance. She refused to believe you were dead. She couldn’t. She had to hold on to some kind of hope.

Steve felt incredibly guilty, and it was eating him alive. You wouldn’t have been down there if it wasn’t for him. You would still be here. He became cold and distant from his team, only choosing to interact with them when it came to missions. Wanda also knew he cried himself to sleep at night, but she wouldn’t dare mention it.

Everyone dealt with their grief differently, but everyone was beyond saddened and missed you dearly.

Well, everyone except Vision.

He didn’t comment at first, choosing to comfort his girlfriend instead. He just assumed that she had survivors guilt, and not that she was actually sad about you.

And after several weeks of Wanda mourning, he made the mistake of saying that.

“Wanda, I truly do not understand your sadness anymore. The loss of a life is always upsetting, yes, but if I recall correctly you didn’t even like her. Do you not think that it’s time to move on?”

Wanda threw him against the walls of the training room. His vibranium body destroying it, but she didn’t care. Tony can dock her pay to fix it.

Needless to say, she was done with him after that.

Wanda’s new past time in the evening now was visiting your room. Tony had given her the key to it, and she’s been exploring it ever since. 

And she discovered things about you that she wished she got the chance to discover naturally.

Your favorite movies, music, books. You had several framed pictures of a little boy around the room. She vaguely remembered you mentioning the death of your little brother during a team dinner one night, but she was too damn stubborn at the time to listen to a word you said.

God, she hated herself. She pushed you away for so damn long, and she couldn’t figure out why.

All she knew, was that you were gone because of her.

If she hadn’t have hated you, if she hadn’t have fought with you all the time, Steve wouldn’t have felt the need to send you on that mission...and you would still be here.

And she was starting to realize, that maybe your presence wasn’t that bad after all.

She couldn’t stand you, but she can’t stand that you’re not here even more.

She let herself fall face first onto your bed and sobbed. Sobbed for you, the memory of you, and the time she wasted with you. Eventually she cried herself to sleep, just like she had many nights before.

She was awoken the next morning by the loud alarm of the compound. She cracked her eyes open and saw the flashing red lights accompanying it.

What the hell?

She shot up out of your bed, and opened the door. Spotting Sam running down the hall, clad in his boxers, she figured this wasn’t a false alarm.

“Sam!” She shouted, and the man stopped to turn to her. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know, Steve says a security breech. C’mon!” With that, he ran back down the hall towards the main room. Wanda rolled her eyes, not wanting to deal with this right now, but she made her way down as well.

When she entered the room, the rest of the team were standing in a line ready to face whatever was on the other end of the door. Everyone was clearly awoken from their slumber as well, since they were all in their sleepwear. In any other situation, Wanda would find this situation hilarious. 

A shirtless Steve Rogers, who of course wore American flag boxers, holding up his shield in prime Captain America mode, was a funny sight for sure.

But, she was all out of laughs, and just wanted to get this over with.

She faced the door along with the rest of the team, eyes and hands glowing red, ready for the threat.

The bang against the double doors resonated through the room. The next one was louder, the third the loudest.

Until finally, a huge blast of water knocked the doors down. The water stopped just short of the Avengers before being soaked into the carpet. The heroes cared more about the figure that was revealed behind the blast, however.

There you stood, with your head down as you lowered your arm. You took a shaky step forward, almost like a zombie, before you looked up. Your eyes widened at the sight of your friends pointing their weapons at you, ready to fight. You threw your hands up in surrender.

“Whoa, hey, I come in peace!” 

Everyone lowered their weapons and hands in shock. It was you. You were back.

Objectively, you looked terrible. Your hair was matted, you looked dirty as hell, your suit was still on you, but tattered. Your suit had a small hole in the stomach, where they assumed you were stabbed based off of what Wanda told them, but the skin under it looked completely healed.

But you were here. Alive.

“...Y/n?” Steve broke the silence.

“You guys look like you’ve seen a ghost.” You tried to joke, but no one was laughing.

“That’s because you are one...” Natasha said. “You’ve been dead for a month.”

You sighed. You remember what happened, but your journey back to the compound was treacherous, so you were beyond tired and didn’t want to deal with explaining everything right now. “Well, here I am...trust me if I was a ghost, I’d look way better.”

Wanda couldn’t believe her eyes. You were back. Not caught underwater, and not about to pass out from blood loss. You were okay. She marched up to you, catching your attention.

You looked at Wanda as she was approaching, and your eyes softened. You were glad to see that she made it back, but you knew having to see what happened to you must’ve been traumatic. And you knew it probably wasn’t because it happened to you, it’d be traumatic if she saw that happen to anyone.

But regardless, you opted to try to comfort her.

“Hey...are you okay?”

Wanda’s expression quickly shifted from awe and disbelief to anger. Was she okay? What kind of question was that? How dare you even think to ask that after what you did.

Wordlessly, she grabbed your wrist, and stormed off, dragging you with her. Leaving the rest of the Avengers behind, still in shock.

She dragged you down the hall and eventually arriving outside your room. Wanda whipped you around, and your back slammed against the door. The pain in your back didn’t compare at all to the fear you felt from Wanda’s glowing red death glare.

You’ve pissed her off more times than you can count, but she’s never looked this livid.

“Am I okay? AM I OKAY!?” She shouted.

“Um, hey...” You started, unsure of what to say.

“You. Fucking. Idiot.” She punctuated each word with a poke to you chest. “I can’t fucking believe you, you seriously managed to get yourself killed?”

“I’m not dead-”

“I’m not done!” She snapped, and you shut your mouth. So not the time to argue with her. You stood in silence, staring at her, waiting for her to keep yelling at you.

You really didn’t expect her to slap you across the face.

Your head whipped to the side, cheek stinging in pain. You groaned and brought your hand up to your face. “What the fuck!?”

Instead of answering, Wanda just slapped you across the other cheek.

“Jesus! Fuck you!” You let out, not even meaning the words that spilled from your mouth. What Wanda said next though, shocked you more than both slaps.

“Fuck me yourself. You owe me.” You looked at her, pretty sure you looked the most confused you ever had in your life.

“Huh!?” You got out, and instead of answering, the witch grabbed the front of your suit, pulling you down and smashed her lips to hers.

Your mind was running a mile a minute. You just made your way back home after a month according to Nat anyway, you had no idea how much time had passed of hell, and the woman you had just saved, the woman who couldn’t stand you since the moment you met, was yelling at you about it. And now she was making out with you against the door.

You weren’t complaining though. Subconsciously, you knew you wanted this for a long time.

And when Wanda managed to open the door, and push you inside with your lips still locked, you more than welcomed what was to come.

A few hours later, you and Wanda laid next to each other, staring at the ceiling. Sheet covering your bare chests, clothes strewn throughout the room, and sweat covering you bodies.

“Holy shit.” You breathed out. 

Wanda nodded and smiled. She turned her head to look at you. “I know.”

“We should’ve done that ages ago. Would’ve saved us a lot of fights.” You joked. Wanda’s smile dropped slightly, but you noticed. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s just...we spent so much time hating each other, fighting over nothing, and then I thought I lost you, and I just...” She trailed off as her voice broke. You took a hold of her hand, silently encouraging her to continue. “I just feel like an idiot for not realizing that instead of pushing you away...I should’ve been pulling you closer.”

You looked at her with a small smile. Truth was, you never hated Wanda. You weren’t entirely sure when or how the fighting started, but you just went with it, and soon enough it was a daily routine. But if you can turn back time, you’d try to stop whatever it was that sparked the fire in the first place.

Instead of voicing all of that though, you simply grabbed Wanda’s chin, and turned her head to look at you. You placed a gentle kiss on her lips, trying to ignore the salty taste from her tears. 

Wanda clenched her eyes shut, and responded to the kiss by placing her hand behind your neck, pulling you closer. Afraid that if she let go this would all be a dream, and you’d be gone again.

But when she pulled away, she saw you staring at her with those beautiful eyes that she knew her dreams couldn’t perfectly recreate. You were here, this was real.

“Well, I’m here now. And I don’t plan on going anywhere anytime soon. Not that I could anyway, because I’m pretty sure Steve’s not gonna wanna send me on missions for a very long time.” You joked trying to lighten the mood, and this time Wanda actually chuckled.

“Thank goodness for that.” She smiled. Her hand came from behind her neck and caressed your cheek. “I’m sorry I slapped you.”

“Hey, I get it. I probably would’ve done the same if the roles were reversed.”

Wanda chuckled again briefly, before her face twisted in confusion. She removed the sheet from your body, hand trailing down your taut stomach, until she landed on the area that she knew you were stabbed.

“How...did you survive?”

You sighed, your hand reaching for hers. “I’m not entirely sure. I just remember waking up underwater, and I was able to breath without a bubble which was definitely new. I remember swimming up to the surface, and dragging myself to the the shore of a beach. I removed the dagger from my stomach and I noticed the wound started to close, so I tested a theory. I summoned some water to pour over it, and boom, it closed up. Guess water has some healing properties for me.”

Wanda listened with rapt attention, impressed with the discovery of your new abilities and grateful that they surfaced when they did. She cracked a small smile though, as she realized something.

“I guess I wasn’t far off with the Aquaman comparison.”

“Oh, shut up.” You laughed and slapped her shoulder playfully. You pulled her into another kiss, the both of you smiling through it. After a few moments, you pulled back in confusion.

“Wait, what about Vision?”

“Ugh, don’t worry about him, that’s been done for a while now.”

You wanted to question her about that, but right now you cared more about being lost in her, so you kissed her again.

You knew you had a lot to explain, and a lot of conversations you had to have, and shower, but those were problems for later. Right now, you were wrapped around the woman you’ve always secretly held a torch for.

And Wanda? She realized the woman that she couldn’t stand, was actually the woman that she couldn’t live without.

A/N: Also, yes, I’m fully aware that the science behind the submarine scene makes no sense, and that an actual sub would implode the second outside water is introduced, but shh just enjoy the angst

[writingintheshadowsforever]

Imagine Sam and Bucky finding out you're the Broker

Even after all the dust settled and everything was right again. It didn't sit right with Bucky to leave one stone unturned. Especially when that stone was such a big player in all this. The Broker was the reason those super-solider serums were created again. The Broker funded the whole program and nothing good was supposed to come from it. While he wasn't on a warpath like Zero to put a stop to the creation of super soldiers. He knew the dangers of someone with so much power and money could easily find another scientist, and start over from scratch. Bucky told Sam that they would stopping another potential threat in the future. There was no way they could just move on without stopping the Power Broker.

So they returned to Madripoor determined to find out who was the person behind the name, and bring them down. Which wouldn't be easy because the Power Broker had the entire country in the palm of their hand. Even the people who feared the villain, and wanted to see them fall wouldn't give up any information on the location, or a real name. Sam and Bucky were warned if they kept poking around asking questions. They were going to get exactly what they wanted, and not in a good way. The whole Captain America, and Avenger status thing didn't mean much in a place like this.

Sharon was the one who reached out to warn you that your old friends, and teammates were coming for everything you built. You felt a little betrayed when she told you that she wouldn't be returning to Madripoor, because all of the heat surrounded the Power Broker. But she did take care of Karli so you didn't have to, so letting her walk away without making a fuss was. The least you could do for her maybe one day she would come back.

You let them roam long enough trying to get someone to turn on you. Before you finally caved and paid some mercenaries to bring them in. It was safe to say Bucky and Sam didn't come quietly.

"Let us go you can't do this" Sam protested. The mercenary behind him held his arms behind his back secured in some hold. He couldn't break free of no matter how hard he tried.

"Shut up and keep walking by the way if you don't stop struggling. I will break both of your arms Cap" the mercenary sneered shoving Sam forward.

"I don't think either of you know who you're really dealing with. You will regret this" Bucky said a bit more calm. His arm was twisted behind his back as well, but his vibranium arm had been disarmed the same way Ayo had did it before. The mercenary had it secured in his bag.

"I can't believe you use to be the deadly Winter Solider a real assassin. You were so good people believed you to be a myth until you came for them."

"Hey that's enough if you knew anything about him. You would the Winter Solider title isn't one he carries proudly. I told you guys to escort them here not beat them up, and take them hostage." You said turning your chair around all of the commotion alerting you to their company.

Sam and Bucky both had bags placed over their head, so they couldn't see anything. But they could hear your voice clear as day Sam started wrenching his body around trying to get away from the mercenary.

"Your job is done let them go and leave us" You ordered with a harsh tone leaving no room for discussion.

The mercenaries nodded and released their hold on your friends. Bucky's vibranium arm, and Sam's shield were thrown to the floor by their feet. By the time they got the bags from around their heads the mercenaries were gone. Bucky saw you first his eyes widening in surprise.

"Y/N"

At the sound of your name Sam turned around to see if it was really you. No had seen you since the battle with Thanos you just disappeared after it was over. He couldn't believe what he was seeing "You can't be serious right now you're the Power Broker."

"I guess it's time for us to have a long and overdue conservation huh." You chuckled throwing your feet up on the desk

"You think" Both Sam and Bucky exclaimed at the same time in frustration.

Oh this was going to be fun and complicated.

Taglist: @wandanatvoid @yelenabelovasgf @romanoffomixam @xxromanoffxx @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @mellowladyangel @musicinourlips @shayzulia @cyberbonesworld

[uncomfortable-writers]

Naive (Thomas Shelby x Reader)

(Gif credit to owner)

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Character: Thomas Shelby

Persona: Female

Word Count: 1,050

Warnings: Bit angst but not really, swearing, low-key jealous Tommy 

A/N - Inspired by The Kooks - Naive <3

♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡

His feet thudded on the pavement below. The people of Birmingham made sure to stay out of his path and it wasn’t because of his reputation. Thomas Shelby was an intimidating man but when his face looked like thunder he could give even the devil the shivers. He walked with purpose towards the Garrison wanting nothing more than a drink to nurse the stress headache pounding behind his eyes.

Pushing on the doors harshly they swung open, releasing the stench of old beer and sweat. As he pulled off his peaked cap his cold eyes darted around the pub looking for you tucked away in the crowd. Unable to find you he began to move towards the private room returning greetings from the drunk revellers with a low grunt. He found the room to be unoccupied, not even by a single Shelby. Tommy took off his overcoat and neatly placed it over a chair. He took a moment to compose himself; he wanted to be in your presence, even though he wouldn’t openly tell you, you helped him to relax. 

As Tom left the room he still observed the drunken rabble on his way to the bar. His usual order of whiskey was placed in front of him, taking the cup in his hand he was about to take a sip when a hand clapped onto his shoulder causing the brown liquid to spill out onto his hand. With a disgruntled expression, he turned to scold the culprit. 

“Tommy!”, Arthur slurred with drunken glee, “How are ya Tommy?”. Arthur’s breath reeked of alcohol signalling to him that Arthur had been drinking for a while which most likely meant you had and the other Shelbys had too. Thomas didn’t think it was possible for his mood to worsen, “Fine”, he breathed out through his teeth. Whether the lie was so convincing or Arthur was too drunk, he couldn’t decide but his brother didn’t let on either way, “That’s what we like to hear Tommy!”. Pouring what was left of the drink into his mouth, Tommy swallowed quickly feeling it warm his throat, the action cause Arthur to drop his arm and instead lean on the bar for support. “Where’s (Y/N)?”, he asked Arthur. Arthur’s ginger brows pulled together before they relaxed, a small knowing smile faintly pulled at the corner of his lips irking Tommy to no end, “(Y/N)”, Arthur repeated letting your name hang in the air. “Yes, (Y/N)”, Tom said flatly, reaching into his jacket to find his cigarettes; the habit being one of his only stress reliefs.

 Arthur pivoted to look at the crowd and gestured wildly, “She was over there last I saw her, talkin’ up a storm with some bloke”. Tommy struck up a match to light the cig taking his time to do so to calm down, he inhaled sharply on the stick and turned to face the crowd too. “Some bloke?”, he prompted his brother who only shrugged in response, “Better go find her Tom”. Thomas gave Arthur his signature stare before he did just that.

Wading into the crowd he was polite to the people who spoke to him, though he didn’t stop when they tried to carry on the conversation. He’d almost walked fully round the Garrison and he even would’ve missed you had he not heard your unique laugh drift through the air like a siren’s call. He turned on his heel, his blue eyes clocked you in a corner that was dimly lit, standing too close to a man he didn’t know. You were laughing about something he had said, the man had reached out and gently placed his hand on your arm.

It took less than a second for him to arrive near you.

“(Y/N)”, Tommy’s gravelly voice sharply interrupted your conversation, he spared you only a moments glance before he began to access your acquaintance, “Who’s your friend?”. The question sounded harmless to you but the man involuntarily straightened his posture, his hand returning to his side. “Tommy when did you get here? This is Sam”, your tone was happy, voice slurred. “Sam”, Thomas rolled the name off his tongue like it was poison, “Sam what?”. 

The Peaky Blinder continued to stare Sam down, he didn’t even turn to look at you when he saw you grow serious out the corner of his eye. Even though he wasn’t a very tall or heavy-set man, Tommy was still able to intimidate even the biggest of men with just his very presence. “Behave we were just talking”, you sighed, Tommy could just hear the pout present on your face and when he finally ripped his eyes away from your friend, he was right. You were pouting up at him as if he were the only person in the room. “You were just talking”, Tommy puffed out smoke which hung in the air. “Yes Thomas, that’s how you make friends”, your irritation was becoming obvious. 

Tommy raised his eyebrows mockingly. He hated it when you called him anything but Tommy. “How you make friends”, he took another long drag of his cigarette observing you, he knew he was playing with fire by purposely provoking you but he just couldn’t help himself. He watched the way your perfect features contorted nastily, “What’s so wrong with making friends?”, Thomas didn’t react, he deliberately took his time puffing on the cig knowing it would drive you mad. Just as he opened his mouth Sam interjected, “It’s been wonderful (Y/N), but I think I best be off”. 

Thomas snapped his head towards the man, a slight scowl on his face, “Yeah I think you better”.

Sam abruptly left, you jabbed your finger in Tom’s chest, “Why are you always such a cock?”. You started to stamp away but he caught your arm, “Now (Y/N)--”, you ripped your arm out of his grip, “Oh don’t start”. You continued on your warpath over to the bar, ready to drink until you were happy again half expecting Thomas to follow and he would have, had he not been stopped by Aunt Polly who’d been watching the entire scene unfold. “When?”, she said ominously prompting Tom to sigh at her, “What?”. He didn’t have time for her long-winded riddles. “When are you going to tell her you love her?”. 

[sunny-sasithorn]

taylor swift songs for each dsmp character because im bored :))

(but only the ones i watch so it stays semi-accurate)

• tommy: tolerate it

"you're so much older and wiser and i, i wait by the door like im just a kid"

this song is just so tommy to me. it could be his relationship with wilbur and how he idolized him even as he went insane or even his exile arc with dream.

• dream: i did something bad

"they say i did something bad. but why's it feel so good? most fun i ever had, and i'd do it over and over and over again if i could. it just felt so good, good."

was i going to choose a sad song at first because im a dream apologist? yes? but did i? :0

•george: right where you left me

"did you hear about the girl who lives in delusion? break-ups happen every day, you don't have to lose it. she's still 23 inside her fantasy. and you're sitting in front of me" / "they say, "what a sad sight". i, i stayed there. dust collected on my pinned-up hair. i'm sure that you got a wife out there, kids and christmas, but i'm unaware. 'cause i'm right where. i cause no harm, mind my business. if our love died young, i can't bear witness. and it's been so long. but if you ever think you got it wrong?"

i ALMOST chose all too well, but i has this epiphany that this song is literally george the other night and it still haunts me. because george lore always involves dream (and my dnf agenda) this is for dream and george, but from georges perspective. the delusion is dreamxd because he is just a illusion of dream to george. and the but if you ever think you got it wrong?" SHEESH THAT JUST BREAKS ME

•ranboo: this is me trying

"they told me all of my cages were mental, so i got wasted like all my potential. andd my words shoot to kill when i'm mad. i have a lot of regrets about that."

i feel like ranboo trying to recover from dreams manipulation and have low self-esteem and being just afraid or himself is so underrated and we need to talk about it rn.

•sapnap: the archer

"ive been the archer, ive been the prey. who could ever leave me, darling? but who could stay?" / "i wake in the night, i pace like a ghost. the room is on fire, invisible smoke. and all my heroes, help me hold onto you.

not a lot of sapnap lore to go off of but just his beautiful husband's helping him recovering from losing his best friend and feeling like a villian :'|

•sam: epiphany

"keep your helmet, keep your life, son. just a flesh wound, here's your rifle." / "with you, i serve. with you, i fall down, down. watch you breathe in. watch you breathing out, out." / "only 20 minutes to sleep, but you dream of some epiphany. just one single glimpse of relief, to make some sense of what you've seen."

do i like sam? sometimes. do i feel terrible for him and am i a very sad hesitant apologist? yes

•quackity: bad blood

"bandaids don't fix bullet wholes, you say sorry just for show. you live like that, you live with ghosts."

quackity and dream and like the only 2 that don't have sad songs and idk how i feel about that. bad blood or lwymmd would have worked tbh.

•wilbur: innocent

"i guess you really did it this time. left yourself in your warpath. lost your balance on a tightrope. lost your mind tryin' to get it back. wasn't it easier in your lunchbox days- always a bigger bed to crawl into? wasn't it beautiful when you believed in everything and everybody believed in you?

call me the fithly wilbur apologist i am and leave

•techno: cardigan

"i knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired, and you'd be standin' in my front porch light. and I knew you'd come back to me... you'd come back to me. and you'd come back to me. and you'd come back"

this one lowkey a stretch but there's not a really good song for techno, but just the end part for him and tommy and their mutal usage for each other ;<

•phil: SLIPPING THROUGH MY FINGERS - FROM 'MAMMA MIA!' AN ORIGINAL MOTION PICTURE SOUNDTRACK

"schoolbag in hand, he leaves home in the early morning, waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile. i watch him go with a surge of that well known sadness, and i have to sit down for a while. the feeling that i'm losing him forever. and without really entering his world. i'm glad whenever i can share his laughter. that sunny little boy... slipping through my fingers all the time, i try to capture every minute, the feeling in it. slipping through my fingers all the time. do i really see what's in his mind? each time i think i'm close to knowing, he keeps on growing. slipping through my fingers all the time. sleep in our eyes, him and me at the breakfast table. barely awake i let precious time go by. then when he's gone, there's that odd melancholy feeling. and a sense of guilt i can't deny. what happened to those wonderful adventures? the places i had planned for us to go. well, some of that we did, but most we didn't. and why, i just don't know? slipping through my fingers all the time. i try to capture every minute, the feeling in it. slipping through my fingers all the time. do i really see what's in his mind? each time i think i'm close to knowing, he keeps on growing. slipping through my fingers all the time. sometimes i wish that i could freeze the picture and save it from the funny tricks of time. slipping through my fingers. schoolbag in hand, he leaves home in the early morning, waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile..."

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Heat Of A Lie

Characters: Dean, Sam, Castiel, Reader (all platonic), Jack (mentioned)

Inspiration: Season 14, Episode 19 - Jack In The Box

Warnings: None.

Summary: They didn’t tell you. Team Free Will hid their plan to lock Jack up in the box and when you find out, you bring the heat.

“Get him out.”

You thundered into the kitchen and towards Dean. Worried that you’d throw the Winchester into the wall Castiel intervened and held you back.

“Get him out!” You shouted while pushing against Castiel to move aside.

“No. Jack stays put.” Dean replied simply. “And you’re not his parent that we have to ask for your permission.”

“I guess we’re lucky that he’s not biologically related to you because you’d make a terrible father.” You snapped and frowned at the way Castiel was shielding him.

“Cas, let me go.” You commanded but the angel shook his head.

“Not until I’m sure that you won’t throw someone across the length of the Nile.” He answered and you realised that if you wanted him to back off that you’d have to do the same.

So, you stopped resisting and moved back with hands up. “Fine.” You conceded.

Castiel looked you over and stepped aside, still remaining close - just in case. You rolled your eyes at him and then focused yourself on Dean as he took a sip of his whiskey.

“You’ve had it out for Jack from the minute you saw him. You didn’t care - you just tolerated his existence. And when Jack was dying without his soul, hell, I’ll bet that a part of you was pleased.”

“(Y/n), please stop.” Sam begged. He understood the pain and anger that were driving your words but he also saw the way it was carving hurt into his brother.

Scoffing, you turned to where Sam was sitting on the other side of the table.

“Stop? You mean the way that you stopped him?” You were on a warpath with anyone in that room who tried to defend their actions. Your tone towards Sam was a touch softer than what it had been with Dean but it was still bitter. “I never thought that you’d be part of it. I thought I could trust you.”

Sam bowed his head sadly and gave it a small shake. It hadn’t been his finest hour. “I’m not proud of it but Jack needed to be-“

“Yes, contained - I heard you the first thousand times but... he’s a person and that box is inhumane.”

“‘Humane’ being the operative word because Jack isn’t human.” Dean reminded and you shot him a seething look.

“And if you let him rot in there then neither are you - you’d be a monster.”

You stepped back and started to leave the kitchen when a loud bang was heard from above. The walls shook violently as if the bunker had been struck by an earthquake and lights switched off for a brief second before they reappeared – flashing red.

Something was wrong.

Masterlist here

Tags: @akshi8278​

[bloodyneptune]

New theory time, and stupid long.

Ok so, we already know from Endgame and Miss Minutes' video that a variation in the timeline creates a branch reality right

So in the same way Steve wasn't secretly in the MCU this whole time in hiding, Old Loki wasn't in the main timeline. Interacting with Thor wouldn't have altered the Sacred Timeline anymore than Steve interacting with Peggy did. The second the change occurred, they were in a branch reality.

So why would interacting with Thor have mattered? Did they get rid of the multiverse, then let a second one be created where each one is essentially the same, with a few minor but overall insignificant changes? A billion sacred timelines?

That makes no sense. The same with Silvie, clearly the fact that she was female (or choosing that form) didn't alter the overall events of the sacred timeline of the reality she was in, but she was in one. Whatever happened in her nexus event moment diverged from the timeline too much

My point is, that's stupid, why would the people/person behind the TVA be fine with a second multiverse as long as they're all essentially the same.

Unless protecting the timeline isn't the goal, its keeping it isolated. The way they talk about it, pruning, branches, the way its visually shown, what if its literally more like a tree. Small branches are fine, as long as its close enough to main trunk (the sacred timeline) but big changes cause big branches, and when you have say, a bunch of trees in a forest, the bigger the branches the closer it gets to other trees.

Theory:

I think the multiverse was never destroyed, its still there. They didn't get rid of it and make one timeline, they isolated one from the rest. Look at the way they showed Loki and Silvie's Nexus event, like some thing going straight up and away. Maybe if it hadn't been stopped, it would have connected the 'sacred timeline' back to the multiverse.

Even the word 'nexus' itself doesn't mean some thing diverging from some thing else, it means connecting. You could read it as 'the central point' as in, the point where the variation occurred, but that could be what they led everyone to assume. Maybe it actually means 'connecting event'. It would explain why branch timelines arent nexus events, only things that diverge too far from the path of the sacred timeline.

What if they didn't win some big multiverse war like heros, bring order and peace, they ran and hid. Everything weve been led to believe tells us whoever's running the TVA is some evil mastermind with a hidden motive, but what if they've just been trying to keep the timeline hidden and safe from a multiverse still at war?

If Loki ends with big enough branches being formed, it could bring the MCU timeline into a multiverse of madness. A multiverse where its common to go from one to another, say like a pile of Spiderman villains followed by a pile of Spidermen in pursuit. Evil Skrulls that secretly invade other multiverses. Maybe a powerful enough witch could hear a reality where her made up children are real, and go on a warpath through the multiverse to find them, the catalyst to alerting everyone to the realities presence again, making her the villain of the story

What if stopping the TVA is bad

And if we go back to Lokis character: in Dark World he faked his death, hid, then pretended to be Odin, a great and powerful ruler. Just like in this theory, whoever is behind all this would have 'faked the timelines death', hid, and pretended to be a great and powerful ruler. So...what if another Loki did the same thing on a universal scale? Maybe the theories that another Loki is behind everything is true, but in very much not the way we expect.

The TVA uses time travel, he could have seen the fate of his universe -loosing Asgard and how it effects him has been a reoccurring theme - and went back to create a branch timeline of his own, making sure it followed the 'sacred timeline' aka the one he already knew, and eventually "resurrecting Asgard" so to speak, something they literally showed us a Loki do. Foreshadowing?

Maybe Loki and Silvie realize all this, while Möbius has gone off to doom the universe by 'burning the TVA to the ground'...BECAUSE HES MEpHisTO!!! Im kidding I'm kidding

Anyway, the alternative is that there really is no multiverse anymore, Loki breaks the TVA and suddenly a fully formed multiverse exists. Just boop, no more TVA, now Sam Ramis Spiderman Universe exists.

This though, this would bring a lot of the themes together. The universe wanting to break free, Lokis always surviving, the TVA being staffed by variants (it would have been started by one), Lokis always lying (Boastful Loki much? A variant Loki pretending to have conquered when he didn't?), his love of Asgard, Old Loki 'resurrecting' it, wanting to take over the TVA to control his own fate ('he' would literally control the TVA and control 'his' fate), this TVA Loki hidden alone. And maybe it ends with Silvie and Loki, who's mission it is to take down the TVA, agreeing to help keep it going. A real Watchmen style end, except..

But something I won't type 50 more paragraphs about happens, and its into the multiverse of madness

[marvelousimagines]

You're Everything

Mob Boss!Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,709

Summary:

Note: I wasn't sure if this was a request or not, and you just couldn't think of a prompt. Or if you were just asking a question. Either way I hope you like it.

You could hear the faint murmur of voices a few feet away from you. Their timbres like insects buzzing against your ears, and you want nothing more than to shut them out. Closing your eyes does little to alleviate the headache that was starting a warpath within your skull. You try to fight against the pain that was starting to slowly work its way down your body. A harsh reminder of your predicament and subsequent failure. 

You know that this was your fault. If you had just listened you wouldn’t be here. You would be at your apartment with Natasha. Safe within her warm embrace and the fuzzy feeling you always got when she was near. You shouldn’t have defied her when all she had been wanting to do was protect you. 

Your head only drops lower as you recall the conversation that had started this domino effect. 

-----

“Natasha I don’t see what the big deal is,” you say, exasperation clear within your tone as you move through your shared apartment. “You have had plenty of scuffles with rival gangs before. Some that were even worse than this one. So why do I have to stay indoors now?” 

Turning your head you meet Natasha’s stoic gaze when her silence continues, but you’re not put off by the unwavering look like others might have been. Crossing your arms you simply raise your eyebrow in challenge. Not at all impressed by her intimidation tactic. You watch as something shifts within emerald orbs turning them softer than they were previously. Slim shoulders slackening slightly at your continued defiance. 

“Lyubimaya,” Natasha begins her voice coming out in a gentle whisper, but you can clearly see that she was just as exasperated as you were. After all you had been arguing about this for about two hours, and neither of you was going to give in anytime soon. “I understand that you’re annoyed, I do, but you know that I wouldn’t be asking this if I wasn’t being serious. I would never want to take any freedom from you, but in this case I don’t have a choice.” 

Dipping your head you have to fight the urge to move towards her. Especially when you could hear the clear desperation underneath her steely exterior. Her words were comforting for only a moment before your mind processed them. 

“You do have a choice, Nat, you do have a say in the matter,” you hiss, eyes flashing as you bring your head back up. “I refuse to be treated like a dog. I refuse to be kept in this apartment while everyone else acts like nothing is wrong. I refuse to be treated like I’m something that can just be locked away at a moment's notice.”

A hard look passes over Natasha’s face as she listens. Her eyes, once again, turning steely and stoic. Her mob boss persona snapping back into place. You watch as Natasha, your Nat, the love of your life and the most gentle creature in the world, becomes the Black Widow, the most deadly. Turning your head so you wouldn’t have to meet her burning gaze you move towards the window. Not even sparing Natasha a glance as you feel her move towards you. Her familiar warmth pressing slightly into your side, and you know that if you would just glance at her you would see her hands twitching by her side. A clear sign that she wanted to touch you but didn’t know if she would be allowed. A thought that brings pain lancing through your heart, but you refuse to rectify it. You didn’t want Natasha to doubt your love for her, because she would always be allowed to touch you, but right now? Right now you just needed your space and time to process everything. 

At your continued silence and stony posture, Natasha lets out a small sigh. The soft exhale ghosting across your neck and you want nothing more than to bring Nat into your arms. But, your pride and stubbornness wouldn’t let you. You were not going to apologize nor were you going to bend automatically because Natasha wanted your attention. No matter how much you wanted to break when her hand ghosts down your left arm. Halting slightly at your wrist, her fingers gently digging in and stopping there. As if Natasha was listening for something that only she could hear. 

After a beat her hand retracts and you immediately miss her warmth, but you do nothing from stopping her. “I know that you’re upset about this situation, and it pains me to see that you’re also upset with me too, but I know that this course of action is going to keep you safe. And I would be damned if I ever let anything happen to you. Especially when I could have stopped it in the first place, because you mean more to be than anything else in this world. I refuse to put you into harm's way. Even if it means you hate me.”

Opening your mouth, to object to her last statement, you’re interrupted by her phone ringing. Natasha’s presence vanishes from your side so she can take the call. From where you were you could hear the faint sounds of a males voice, probably Steve or Bucky, and they seemed to be speaking fairly quickly. You didn’t have to turn your head to know that through it all Natasha was staring at you. The burning gaze was enough to know that she was only half listening to the conversation. If her halfhearted hmms were anything to go by at least.

“All right, I’m on my way. Sam and Clint are still coming, correct?” Natasha asks as she moves around the loft. Her movements are precise and careful so she wouldn’t disturb you. Even so you couldn’t help but stiffen at the sound of the two men's names. You had no problem with them, in fact you considered them great friends, but the thought of them being your babysitters? It fills you with a type of indignation that you didn’t know you could possess. Rationally you know that you were being a little harsh on Natasha, and you could even understand where she was coming from. But, that didn’t stop you from feeling like an animal trapped in a cage. Forced to stay because of a perceived threat that may not actually be there. 

Closing your eyes, once more, you can acutely feel the way Natasha’s eyes sweep your form. Assessing you in the way only Natasha ever could, but she doesn’t move to approach you again. Instead she simply sighs and moves towards the door.

“Please be careful, lyubimaya, at least until the boys get here.” 

You don’t bother to vocalize your answer. Opting to stiffly nod your head in affirmation without shifting your stance once. You could feel rather than see Natasha’s defeated expression, and just as she’s about to close the door her soft voice fills the silence. “Ya lyublyu tebya.” 

The door clicking softly behind her is the only other sound in the apartment for some time. The shifting of the lock is another, but you barely have time to process either. Not when your gaze levels on the window in front of you. The window that conveniently had a fire escape on it, and was conveniently unlocked. 

Turning your head you look towards the closed apartment door. Half expecting Natasha to come barreling back in as if she could sense your plans. After a moment when nothing happens your shoulders slacken with relief. Your head turning back towards the window and your plan already in motion. 

If Natasha wanted you to stay she should have stayed with you to make sure that you would. 

You were not a good little prisoner that follows every order to the letter. You were your own person and you had things that you needed to do. Even if it meant angering Natasha to be able to do them. 

Moving towards the window you couldn’t help but feel the elation course through you as it seamlessly opens. Your heart pounding against your chest as you step through and onto the fire escape. 

No you weren’t a good little prisoner at all. 

-----

Which is what brought you to where you were now. Tied up against a dingy wall in the warehouse district of New York. Your arms slightly elevated above your head and your mouth gagged so you couldn’t make any substantial noise. Four men stood before you and you wanted nothing more than to punch the self satisfied smirks off of their faces. They had caught you unaware as you were stepping out from the local grocery store that was down the street from your apartment. To add insult to injury as you were being taken the car you were in passed your building, and you could clearly see Sam and Clint on the phone. Their eyes filled with worry and trepidation. Their worry was for you and the trepidation was for the incoming wave that would be Natasha. Her fury crashing down onto all of her men when she heard the news that you were gone. 

You had wanted nothing more than to jump out of the car, but the cold metal digging into the small of your back stopped you. Not that you could have gained their attention anyway. The goons that had snatched you were at least somewhat competent, unfortunately, and they gagged you the moment you were in the car. “We don’t want you to cause any unwanted attention now do we?”

The whispered words against your ear still causes a shiver to run down your spine. The words themselves not having any actual effect on you, but the way in which they were spoken. The dark promise that lay in undertones of the gruff voice, and the way the speakers hand had caressed your hip when saying it. 

Closing your eyes you allow your head to lull down. Your body slowly starts to become numb in the position that it was in. The stiffness of your muscles doing little to ease the ache of the bruises that you knew were forming. Your captors having not been the gentlest of people when grabbing you. You were sure that you would have a bruise in the shape of a handprint for the foreseeable future. If I even make it out of this.

A thought that makes your breath catch, your head shaking slightly against the sudden fuzziness that it brings. No. You couldn’t start thinking like that because if you did then you would lose all hope, and you know that Natasha would come for you. That she would burn the entire city down if it meant getting to you, and that thought breaks your heart even more. How could you have doubted her? How could you have treated her demand like every other possessive girlfriends? How could have doubted her love for you? When she had shown her devotion to you time and time again. You know that being her girlfriend was dangerous, and you know that your safety was top priority to Natasha. And, you had simply cast her concerns aside like they were nothing more than pesky flies. 

Your eyes slip shut on their own volition, this was your fault. You deserved everything that was coming towards you. 

You could tell that the men were nearing the end of their conversation, and you know what would happen to you when it finished. They would start their interrogation and by the look of the knives on the table beside you it wouldn’t be the fun kind. Staring at a particularly brutal looking knife you couldn’t help but let your mind wander. Thinking about how it would feel to have that digging into your flesh. Ripping your body open like it was nothing. You never felt so human before, so vulnerable. Your mind swirls with the thoughts of death and pain. Blocking the rest of the world out from you. 

Because of this, however, you completely miss the sounds of choked gasps from in front of you. The sound of bodies falling with a gentle thud against the decrepit floorboards of the warehouse. Only when a familiar warmth appears in front of you, and gentle hands cradle your face, do you snap out of it. Your gaze meeting shimmering emerald as Natasha smiles at you. Her beautiful face was all that you could see as she cut you down, your legs automatically giving out after being numb for so long. Though you needn’t have worried about falling for too long, because Natasha caught you in her strong hold. 

Her lips press against your temple with an almost desperate urgency. Her voice coming out in a choked whisper as she clings to you, gently rocking you both back and forth. “I’m here, lyubimaya, I’m here and I’m never going anywhere. All right? I’m never leaving you again.”

Pressing yourself more fully into Natasha’s side you couldn’t help the tears that slip from your eyes. “I’m so sorry, Nat, I should have listened to you. I shouldn’t have been so hard headed and egotistical. I shouldn’t have let my pride get in the way of your worries. I’m so sorry, Natasha.” You know that your voice sounded choked, almost as choked as Nat’s, but you couldn’t help it. You had almost been taken away from the love of your life because of your own stupidity. Something that you weren’t sure you could ever forgive yourself for. 

“There is no need to apologize, but please never do this again. I don’t think my heart could ever take it again. Just like I don’t what I would have done if I hadn’t been faster,” she says, her arms keeping you pressed against her as she raises you both from the floor. Snuggling further into her side you allow your head to rest against her shoulder. Your bodies slot together like puzzle pieces.

“I’m just glad that my mistake didn’t cost us everything,” you say, leaning heavily into Natasha’s side as you begin to move. Your legs still not wanting to cooperate to their full potential. You choose to ignore the bodies that litter the ground of the place. Their throats having been slit, and an almost surprised expression on their faces. 

Stepping out into the night you couldn’t help but relish the wind on your face, and the warm body pressing you against her side. Feeling Natasha’s soft hand caressing your cheek prompts you to look at her. Her green eyes shining underneath the moonlight, a gentle smile pulling on her lips. “I am happy about that as well, lyubimaya, more than you could ever know. I would have let this city burn if it meant getting to you faster, and I’m so happy that it didn’t have to come to that.” She says as she brings her lips to press against yours, A gentle embrace between two souls that needed nothing more than to reconnect with one another. 

Pulling away you could feel a small smile beginning to form on your lips. You always seemed to be smiling when Natasha was near. “I love you, Nat.” 

A blinding smile spreads across Natasha’s face at your words. A look of pure adoration replacing the normally stoic mask. “I love you too. I always have and I always will.”

Putting your face back into the crook of her neck you begin to move once more. Natasha’s arms never waver from your waist nor do yours stray from hers. You know that the boys would be by soon to clean up the mess, but you couldn't really think of anything but Natasha. The warmth of her body and the feeling that seemed suffused itself into your chest because of her hold. 

You had almost lost it because of your own stubbornness, and you promised yourself then and there that you would never do so again. 

You had learned tonight that you weren’t Natasha’s prisoner, you were her home. Just like she was to you and you could never be happier about anything else. As long as you had each other you could fight through anything.

Together. 

[sincerelyreidburke]

I for once am in a mood for quindo fluff. Some playful bickering perhaps?

Given that you’ve asked me for this twice, Percy, I would have felt very bad not giving it to you.😂😂😂😂 Here’s the Quindo bickering content of your dreams, but from Remy’s POV! Set during junior year, and briefly featuring two more fictional hockey players of my creation.

Also on ao3, in the ficlet collection. (Ask/send me anything about the crickets!)

//

junior year | october

  The commotion in the kitchen wakes Remy up from the best nap he’s had in awhile, and that in and of itself is a sin.

Naps are not only a spiritually enriching experience, they’re also essential. Remy is slowly learning to use them as a remedy for the fact that he only gets so many hours of sleep per night. Ben keeps telling him that he should look into taking melatonin or something for the insomnia, but it always feels like a problem for another day. The other day it’s a problem for has yet to come.

So today, after he wakes up at five AM and does not fall back asleep, he spends the better half of the morning in the library busting out his entire upcoming paper for HI 387 (British Empire). When he finishes formatting his bibliography, he feels his primal nap instinct coming on, and the sky outside looks gray, which just helps the urge along. He gathers up his stuff, walks back to the house on Beech Street, changes into sweats, and flops into his bed with his feet on the pillow and head on the pile of stuffed animals at the end of the mattress.

Only God and Ben Shaley can judge him for his stuffed animal collection.

Some indeterminate time later, he wakes to the noise downstairs. He can’t make out exactly what’s being said, but he’d know Quinn’s shrill voice anywhere, piercing the stairwell and creeping right up into Remy’s room.

There’s a steady rain drumming on the window, and he lifts his head off of his arm. He feels like he accidentally imprinted the sleeve of his sweatshirt onto his cheek, if the weird bumpy sensation when he runs his fingers over his face is any indication. This is a sign of a good nap. Unfortunately, it’s been interrupted.

Downstairs, Quinn is still talking. He has one volume, and it’s loud.

Remy buries his face in between his stuffed snake and his duck, and sighs.

He lays in bed for a minute more, weighing the merits of attempting Naptime Part Two versus going downstairs to see what the fuss is about. In reality, he knows that there’s probably no fuss at all, and that Quinn is just on another of his random rants which must double as practicing onstage projection based on how loud and animated he can get. Remy fishes through his plush pile until he finds his phone, where he checks the time— it’s 3:02, which means he slept for at least two and a half hours. If he tries to go back to sleep now , there’s no way he’ll ever be able to get to sleep at the normal time to go to sleep.

So he rolls over, sits up in bed, and rubs his eyes. He feels a mighty yawn coming on, but it doesn’t actually hit him until he fixes his shirt— somehow, under his hoodie, it bunched all the way up to his chest in his sleep. And the ankle seam on one of his joggers is up to his knee.

Wow. It really was a good nap.

The yawn hits him when he stands up and out of bed. He kind of feels like a zombie, walking after such a deep sleep. He guesses it isn’t such a bad thing to be so well-rested. It’s been awhile.

Downstairs, Quinn’s voice persists. When he opens his bedroom door and steps out into the hallway, another factor comes into play— somebody is cooking down there, and, well, okay, he can say ‘somebody’ but the smell tells him without a doubt it’s Nando. It smells like that spicy chicken soup recipe he loves making on rainy, crappy days, and Remy had no idea he was hungry, but all of a sudden his stomach growls like a feral cat.

Jeez.

As he heads down the stairs, slow but steady, he can gradually start to make out Quinn’s words. “... do not understand even in the slightest how you can work like this—”

“Baby,” he hears Nando laugh, which puts a temporary stop to Quinn’s tirade. “I swear, there’s a method to my madness!”

“Oh, it’s madness, alright,” Quinn replies. “I mean, goodness , Sebastián—” There’s a clatter of dishware, like someone has put something in the sink. “You’re building an entire tower over here!”

Remy rounds the corner into the kitchen just in time for Nando to protest, “But I’m gonna clean it… promise!”

Quinn is the first thing he sees, orange-haired and pint-sized in a baggy (obviously stolen) sweatshirt and gesturing snappily. He stands next to the counter. “The issue isn’t that you’ll clean it eventually,” he’s saying to Nando, who leans against the stove with a goofy grin on his face and a ladle in his hand. The huge pot on the burner behind him, Remy wagers, must be the source of the smell. “The issue ,” Quinn adds, “is the mess.”

Which, okay, yeah. There’s a mess.

Nando has stacked the sink full of obviously relevant dishes, and both counters are laid with evidence that he was there, from cutting boards to empty cans to knives. Nando being a disaster cook isn’t new news, not to Remy or to Quinn or anyone else in this house— but he must have struck a nerve with Quinn today, by the looks of it.

Quinn looks ready to gear up for another rant, and Remy’s half-asleep brain doesn’t really love the thought of that, so he cuts in before he can. “ Crisse , Q,” he says, rubbing his eye as he stands in the kitchen doorway. “Is there a national emergency?”

Quinn folds his arms and lets off a sigh, leaning his hip against the counter. “There may as well be.”

Nando is grinning at him, like he’s trying not to laugh. “ Baby .”

They’re not alone in the kitchen, though— Ben is at the table by the window, sketching by the looks of it, based on his huge spreads of paper and the pencil stuck into his bun. Jordy and Sam are playing cards at the same tabletop Quinn is leaning against, and X is next to them, on his phone. “Stay out of it, Rem,” Ben remarks, turning in his seat to face him, with a half-grin on his face. “He is on the warpath .”

Quinn snaps his head over to Ben. “I am not on the warpath,” he says. “I am maintaining a sense of order.”

Nando puts his hand over his face and makes a noise like he’s trying not to laugh. Quinn whips back to him and jabs his finger at him menacingly, which is really hard to do when you’re 5’6 but your boyfriend is 6’4. Quinn does it anyway. “ Sebastián Hernandez , you are going to get it—”

Remy suppresses a laugh of his own, and slumps into the chair across the table from Ben. “How long has this been going?” he asks, in a low voice.

Ben is still grinning. “Like ten minutes?” he replies. “He got in from his drama thing and unleashed holy terror.”

Remy sighs. “Great.”

“I hear you talking about me, Ben,” Quinn calls across the room, despite the fact that calling is completely unnecessary given the size of the kitchen.

Ben shields his face with one hand. “White flag! I surrender. I’m sorry, your majesty, for my great offense—”

“ Benjamin .”

Ben winces, and pulls the pencil out of his hair. “Message received,” he remarks, and goes back to his spread of papers. It is drawing stuff. Remy doesn’t understand architecture homework, but Ben is great at it.

Remy watches as Quinn walks back to the sink. He turns the faucet on, as if to conquer the stack of Nando’s cooking collateral. “How do you people live like this?”

“How are you surprised?” X asks, not looking up from his phone but grinning like crazy. “You were in here all last year.”

Which is true. Although Remy just moved into Beech for his first year this preseason, Nando lived here last year, too. Quinn is well familiar with the disasters he makes in kitchens, particularly the Beech kitchen. At least freshman year, he was relegated to the shitty student kitchen in the basement of Wilson Hall, the freshman boys’ dorm. Beech Street gives him a space of his own. Which is good because the whole team gets to eat his food. But bad in the process of making said food.

“I’m not surprised, Xander,” Quinn says, turning to X, in a slightly less homicidal tone. He holds a soapy blue sponge in his left hand. “I merely wish that a certain boyfriend of mine would learn to clean up his messes—”

“I told you, baby,” Nando replies, stirring his soup with the ladle, “I’m gonna clean, when I’m all finished. What’s the use of cleaning during the process, when I’m just gonna make a mess again on the same surface?”

Quinn turns off the sink, presses his fingers to his own temple, takes a long breath, and replies, “What’s the use of keeping your empty bean cans on the counter?” He points the sponge to the counter, where there are, in fact, empty bean cans everywhere. His point makes a flicking motion and sends a stray sud flying into the air. It lands on the floor. “ Empty bean cans , Sebastián.”

“They’re just cans,” Nando replies.

Quinn bristles, puts the sponge in the sink, and dries his hands on a kitchen towel. “And the rubbish barrel,” he replies, pacing to the counter, “is right there.”

Quinn scoops the cans off the counter, opens the top of the nearby trash, and drops them into the bag beneath. With a hmph , he turns his pointy, freckled nose up at Nando, like he’s saying so there.

Nando blows him a kiss, which intensifies Quinn’s rage. “Thanks, mi amor .”

Across the table, Ben is still grinning even as he draws, like he wants to laugh, and Remy can’t blame him. This is not at all an unfamiliar dynamic— since their earliest days dating, Nando and Quinn’s relationship has been characterized by bickering like they’re an old, married couple.

Well, okay. In actuality, their ‘bickering’ looks more like Quinn bitching at Nando and getting nothing but heart eyes in return. Nando is a simp, and Quinn is an irritable priss, and they’re in love.

Remy doesn’t get romance, but he knows it works for them.

Ben looks up from his sketching, and catches Remy’s eye across the table. He wears the unmistakable smile of someone who is going to cause problems on purpose. “Duck,” he murmurs, in a mischievous voice with volume only for him. “Watch this.”

“Oh, God,” Remy mutters, but it’s too late.

Ben leans over the back of his chair and remarks, “Y’know, Quinny, you talk mad shit for someone who can’t cook to save his life.”

Remy snorts into the neckline of his sweatshirt. “ Ben .” At the stove, Nando guffaws. Jordy and Sam, who, as wise, observant bystanders, have chosen to remain quiet right up until now, both start heckling like their brains are connected. (They’re a D-pair, so they probably are, come to think of it.) “ Yoooo ,” Sam mumbles, and Jordy lets out a quiet, “Oh, shit.”

Flushed pink in the face, Quinn whirls on his heel to face Ben and Remy’s table. He has the energy of a tea kettle that’s ready to start screeching. “ Benjamin Shaley .”

Ben grins, owning his chirp. “What, so you can dish it, but you can’t take it?”

“You’ve gotta get used to that,” Jordy cuts in. “Being manager comes with the responsibility to get chirped…”

“Oh, trust me, Jordan.” Of all the people in the kitchen, Jordy seems to have irritated Quinn the least. “I am well accustomed to the chirping.”

“Yeah, Jordy,” Nando adds, with a big grin as he pulls up a steaming ladle of his soup. “He’s been dating me for two years.”

“Oh, please ,” Ben replies, because he is clearly not done. “I’ve never heard you chirp him in your life , Nanny. All you do is kiss his ass.”

Remy snorts again. “ Yoooooo !” Sam cries.

Nando drops his ladle into the pot. “ Rho ! I do too chirp him!”

Ben laughs wildly. “You do not ,” he says. “You don’t dare chirp him. You’re too busy simping twenty-four-seven.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you chirp Quinn,” X offers, still grinning at his phone.

Remy jumps on the bandwagon. “They kinda have a point, Nanny,” he says, and waits for the reign of terror to descend upon him.

But Quinn has apparently tuned out. Rather than participate, he has chosen the duration of this exchange to tidy up Nando’s counter mess. He throws away trash— the fragments of a poblano pepper, the remaining bean cans, a bag that held frozen corn. Then he deposits the cutting board into the sink with the knife Nando was using.

“There we go.” He wipes his hands on the dish towel, then turns around to face their side table again, and Remy thinks for a second that he’s going to take another shot at Ben. Instead, Quinn looks to him , which is terrifying until he says, very evenly, “Hello, Remy. I heard you had a nap.”

“Uh.” Remy isn’t sure if Quinn would kill him if he laughed. He can turn on a dime. It’s terrifying. But also beneficial, for managerial purposes. “Yeah,” he tells Quinn. “It was a good nap.”

“Well, good.” Quinn dusts off the front of his sweatshirt. It says Hernandez on the sleeve, as if its sheer size on him wasn’t proof enough that it’s stolen property. “I hope we didn’t disturb you too much.”

“Oh—” Now Remy does let out his laugh. He doesn’t dare tell Quinn that yes, actually, he did wake him up. He really did need to get up for the afternoon, so it doesn’t matter. “Uh, no. It’s fine.”

“Good.” Quinn smiles, then turns back around, walking to Nando by the giant soup pot. He rises on his tiptoes and kisses his cheek. “Isn’t that better?” he asks him, gesturing to the clear countertop.

Nando is still grinning, like the huge simp he is, and smiles sideways at Quinn as he stirs the soup. “Much better, baby.” He wraps him up sideways in his arm. Quinn gets swallowed by the sheer size of him, as usual. “Thank you,” Nando adds, and gives him an actual kiss.

Quinn is still flushed in the face, but now it’s that cheesy blush Remy has watched Nando give him so many times. Just like that, Quinn has cooled off, and the noise level in the kitchen is better for it. Remy looks away, because watching them together always feels like an invasion of privacy, even when they’re engaging in mild PDA. He thinks it’s just a him thing.

Nando keeps cooking. Quinn keeps him company. Ben gets back to drawing, and X to scrolling, and Jordy and Sam to their cards. The rain keeps pattering at the windows, and conversation returns to a normal level, and it’s a perfectly normal Sunday afternoon.

Yeah. Remy doesn’t get romance. And he definitely never will. But he loves this team, and he loves this house, and he really loves his friends.

[jbbarnesnnoble]

Let Me Go

Summary:  When your fiance returns from his deployment, things aren’t the same. With your band getting ready to go full steam into your debut album, Bucky becomes too much, and you know that if your relationship is going to survive and be healthy, you need to go. 

Features: Angst; Happy ending; mentions of Bucky losing his arm; 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader

Notes: This has been a WIP for a while that I kept coming back to. I almost scrapped this. Their relationship isn’t healthy at the start, but that’s why things play out how they do. 

EDIT: forgot to mention, Kisses at Airports is a 100% real song by the amazing Cassadee Pope

Word Count: 2352

A wandering soul, a dreamer, a lover. The adjectives ascribed to you by the ones you loved, by the ones you were willing to lose in the pursuit of your dreams. You had dreams and staying was keeping you from them. You knew he never meant to keep you like a caged bird, he never realized that it was what he was doing. 

He excuses for why you shouldn’t do something were weak. “It’s too far”, “Have you seen the crime rate there?”, “what if something happens and I’m not there?”. You loved him. You did. But he clung to you like a leech, slowly draining you of your dreams of a life far away. It wasn’t healthy. He had his own issues to work through and he never would if you stayed. It hadn’t always been that way. You remembered a time when it wasn’t that way, where he wasn’t the one thing holding you back from your dreams. 

The summer air was filled with the scent of freshly made funnel cakes, spun sugar of cotton candy, and the smell of fresh rain. You had gone for cover in one of the buildings on the fairground, watching as the rain fell. His arms were wrapped around you, his left hand holding on to the cotton candy that had nearly fallen victim to the rain outside. You held tight to the moment. He’d be leaving soon, and moments like those were ones to cherish. 

“Think you’ll still get to play?” he asked as he tore a piece off and held it to your lips. You took the bit of sugary fluff into your mouth, smiling at the artificial taste of grape. It always had been a favorite of yours. 

“Wait for it. The show must go on,” you told him, nodding toward the bay doors where the rain was clearing. He laughed as you pulled him out of the building and toward the stage that was set up. Music was your passion. You dreamed of Nashville, of playing the Ryman, of one day joining the Opry. 

You had a band, a group that had been friends since childhood. They were your family, not by blood but by shared experiences. Natasha Romanoff was a badass with a guitar, Wanda Maximoff was a hell of a drummer, something no one ever expected. They always thought Nat would be the drummer and Wanda would be a guitarist or a fiddle player. Sharon Carter was your bass player, and Wanda’s brother Pietro was your keyboard player. The East Coast Connection was what you’d called yourselves since high school. Now, four years later, you were close to being able to head to Nashville and really try.  

The two of you found your friends. Steve was helping with the setup, but it looked more like he was getting distracted by Sharon. The pair had gotten married earlier in the summer. Carol Danvers was an addition to your close-knit group. Carol was a welcome addition, along with Sam Wilson. Carol, who Wanda had fallen head over heels with. They worked with Steve in New York, with the FDNY. You spotted Peter, MJ, and Ned in the mix. It seemed like everyone was there, everyone except…

“Where’s Barton?” you heard Bucky ask. Everyone paused and looked around. You swore you saw Nat swear under her breath. Clint Barton on the loose at the end of summer fair was never a good thing. You remembered the year he managed to take off with the entire pot of clams that had been put out for the annual seafood dinner night that was part of the fundraising efforts of the volunteer fire department that put on the fair. 

No one could forget the year Clint managed to hide terrifying-looking clowns in the Funhouse. 11-year-old Peter Parker ran out screaming and his Aunt May went on a warpath to find Clint. That was the summer before you entered 8th grade. Bucky, Steve, and Clint were a year ahead of you with Nat. Your year had the twins, Wade Wilson, who still showed up at random, though no one knew exactly what he was up to since high school, and Bruce Banner. 

Clint, as it turned out, had gone to meet Tony Stark. Not only did Stark own Stark Industries, but he had ventured into other industries, namely the music industry with a start-up based out of Nashville. Tony had been a senior your freshman year. His parents prided themselves on the fact that he went to public school, never mind the fact that your school was one of the top in the state. As far as you knew, Stark had settled down recently and was expecting a child with his wife Pepper. 

By the time Clint showed up with Tony, the band had taken the stage. You were so wrapped up in the show, you didn’t notice them. You slowed things down a bit in the middle of the set.

“This song...I wrote it thinking about something I really don’t want to think about. It’s called Kisses at Airports,” you said. You nodded your head to the beat, doing your best not to cry as the song neared the end.

“How many times do we take for granted? Kisses at airports, by open car doors, no I don’t wanna let go. I just wanna make sure you know, this one means I missed you. This one means I’m going to, make every one I give you baby be a little more, like kisses at airports, like kisses at airports,” you sang. You didn’t let yourself look at Bucky until the last note, seeing the emotion on his face clearly. 

You hadn’t played that one for him. You weren’t sure it was because you wanted it to be a surprise or because you didn’t want to acknowledge the truth. He was deploying soon, hopefully for the last time if you had it your way. His enlistment was up at the end of this one. He had been lucky enough to be stationed back home this time before deploying. 

You snapped out of your thoughts with the slam of the front door, followed by a muffled stream of curses. Alpine jumped from her perch on your lap. The ring you wore sat heavy on your left hand. He had proposed before he left, nearly a year ago. Four months in, you got the news about his injury. Two months later, he was home. You and the band had been in the studio, having signed on with Tony’s label. The amount of creative freedom he’d given you had shocked you. 

When you’d found out about Bucky’s injury, Tony made sure the band could stay in the area, that you had the support. Tony was the reason Bucky had a top of the line, custom made prosthetic. It was one of a kind. 

The past six months had been filled with physiotherapy and with Bucky’s visits to a therapist. It did nothing to quell the storm raging in his head. You could tell that much. You felt awful, for thinking about leaving. Felt like you were kicking him while he was down. Losing his arm and his fiancee in quick succession? It wouldn’t be forever. You knew his mental health wasn’t your responsibility, that distance was necessary. Nashville was the focal point, where the two of you couldn’t agree. He needed to stay in the area. His doctors were there. Tony was there. His new job with Stark Industries was there. 

You looked up when he came in. He looked exhausted. For a moment, you felt your resolve crumble. You had a bag packed, sitting beside you with your guitar. You were just waiting for your ride. Steve would be coming over after you left, you and the band heading for Nashville to do the things you needed to. The networking, the shows, preparing for the album launch. 

“Where are you going?” Bucky asked, his voice cracking. You sighed.

“James…,” you started to say.

“You’re leaving me. I need you here,” he said. You shook your head.

“It’s not healthy. This. Whatever this is right now. We need time apart and the band...we have so much to do before the album comes out. You and I...we’re not good for each other right now, Buck,” you said. 

“You’re leaving me,” he repeated. You stood up, placing your hand gently on his cheek, leaning to kiss him. He held you tight, not wanting to let go.

“It’s not forever. You need to let me go, James,” you said. He rested his forehead against yours. Conflict swirled around him. 

“What if I don’t want to?” he asked. Your breath caught in your throat as you felt the familiar sting of tears.

“You have to. This...what we’ve been since you came home...it’s not healthy. It’s not good. It’s not good for you. It’s not good for me. I won’t be gone forever. But you have to learn how to let me go again. You have to. This...whatever this has been...we need the time apart before we destroy ourselves,” you said, your voice breaking. The two of you sat in silence, holding one another, until a knock came at the door, along with a text from Sharon. Clint was driving you all to the airport and had dropped Steve off. You grabbed your bag and your guitar, Bucky trailing behind you. 

“Please,” he whispered. You shook your head.

“It’s for the best,” you said, kissing him one last time before you walked out the door and to the car. You couldn’t bring yourself to look back as Steve ushered him back into the house. You felt your heart break a little more. It wasn’t forever, you reminded yourself. 

In the car, you just shook your head when Natasha asked about what had happened. You stared out the window as Clint pulled away, the sunlight catching on your ring as you left Bucky in the rearview. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nashville was a lot of things, but it wasn’t home. You enforced a strict policy of two phone calls a week with Bucky. The first week you had been gone, he was constantly calling and texting to check on you. You reminded him that you needed the space. You both needed it, even if he was unwilling to see it. One month passed, and then the second and a third. Four months passed and the album was releasing. To your surprise, the band had been asked to play the Opry. Before that the band was appearing on a radio show. You knew you were going to be asked about the songs, about your relationship. You wished he could be there. Once upon a time, he had been your most vocal supporter, promising to be there for every milestone he could. If the others knew what was on your mind as you sat waiting for the interview to start, they didn’t let on. 

“You have this song, Kisses at Airports, what was the inspiration there?” Bobby asked. You sighed.

“My fiance is...was in the military. He joined right out of high school. He’s home now, but those years...those years were filled with kisses at airports, saying goodbye without saying goodbye,” you explained. 

“Will he be at the Opry debut?” he asked. You bit your lip.

“It’s up in the air. He’s recovering at the moment,” you said, unwilling to give a deeper answer than that. You were checked out for the rest of the interview, Nat and Sharon doing most of the talking while Wanda and Pietro watched you with concern. You were quiet when the interview ended and you were heading to the venue. It wasn’t until you got to the dressing room that Wanda brought up the elephant in the room.

“You want him here, don’t you?” she asked. You nodded.

“He’s my best friend. Of course I want him here,” was all you said. You were more subdued through the afternoon as the band prepared for the show. You were nervous, more nervous than you’d been for any show you’d ever done. This was the Opry. How many greats had stood in that circle before you?

As you stepped onto the stage after the band was introduced, you looked out at the crowd. You tried to commit it to memory. Second only to the day Bucky proposed to you, this was the best day of your life. The opening chords of Kisses at Airports started and you didn’t have to think as you sang, Bucky on your mind. 

When you got off the stage, you were surprised to see a crowd outside the dressing room. Steve was there for Sharon. But with Steve was someone you didn’t expect. Bucky. When the two of you had spoken earlier in the week, he mentioned not being sure he could fly out. Between him not feeling comfortable traveling and his new job, you understood. But there in front of you was Bucky. You smiled at him. He looked surprised as you hugged him, squishing the flowers he held. After a moment, he laughed before he picked you up and spun you around. His laughter was a sound you had missed so much. Before you had left, you wondered if you would ever hear it again. 

He was doing better than he was the day you left for Nashville. Therapy helped you both. Texting was a daily thing now, phone calls whenever one of you just wanted to hear the other. You looked at him, really looked at him. He looked rested, more than he had in the six months leading up to your departure. 

“Missed you,” he said, his voice low. You smiled.

“Missed you too,” you replied before leaning to kiss him. 

“Alright lovebirds, let’s get going. We have dinner reservations,” Natasha said, breaking the two of you out of the bubble you had found yourselves in. For a moment, it had been as if no one else was there, just the two of you, finally back together again. 

[avengerscompound]

The Tower: The Queen of Asgard - 13

The Tower: The Queen of Asgard An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Pairing:  Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 1832

Warnings: just some sexual innuendo

Synopsis: The twins are now three and while the Avengers know that Clint and Thor are the biological father’s none of them know or care which blond, blue-eyed baby is related to which man.  When Riley gets the power to control wind and it becomes evident that she is the heir to the Asgardian throne, Elly, Steve, Thor, and Tony take the twins to Asgard to train her.

Not every Asgardian is happy with their king’s choice of consort, nor the impurity of the heir’s blood.  While others expect Thor to make things more official.  What’s clear is, the role of Queen of Asgard is not easily filled.

Author’s Note: Written with the human pin-cushion @fanficwriter013​

Chapter 13: Keeping Safe

The next morning I woke still nestled in between Tony and Steve but Thor was nowhere to be seen.  I managed to wriggle out from in between them, and as soon as I was clear they moved toward each other, obviously not ready to wake yet.  I used the bathroom and then went into the living room to find Thor working at a desk.  Volstagg was guarding the door to the children’s room.

“Good morning,”  Thor said looking up.  “Glad to see you’ve joined the land of the living.”

“Are the kids okay?  One of them normally wakes the other and they come and get us.”  I asked.

“Still asleep,” Thor said.  “I checked on them.”

“Do you need help with anything?”  I asked.

“I would appreciate your insight on this scheduling.  There are so few I trust here, making sure the warriors get the rest they need and having everyone guarded is difficult.”  Thor said.

I came over and sat down in his lap and he put one hand on my thigh, tightening it for a moment before just letting his hand relax.  “I’d prefer that you stay with me.  I think that will be the best way to keep you safe.  I’d like at least two people with the children at any time.”  He said.  “I know that Steve can handle himself, so I am not too concerned about him.”

“And Tony?”  I asked.

“I don’t want to say he can’t handle himself.  I know he has the suit…”  Thor said.

“But you’re aware of his fragile mortality?”  I said.

He nodded and put his chin on my shoulder.

“Well, he’s going to want to go to the lab and work on the bots now.  That’s for sure.  Would you trust Tony and Steve alone together?”

“Perhaps.  I think together they should be strong enough to at least hold out a fight long enough for Loki and I to get there.”  Thor said.

“Well, what if Steve and Tony stick together.  And I’m with you.  Then the warriors and Loki can rotate keeping the kids safe.”   I suggest.  “Then when the bots are done there’s extra security on everyone.  Plus the others will be here soon enough.”

“I can make that work,”  Thor said with a nod.  He filled out the timetable and began to write a letter.  I couldn’t understand anything he wrote though as he was writing in what looked like runes.

“I should go and dress for the day if I’m tailing you around,”  I said.  “You could always have either you or Loki with the kids at all times too.  So if you put down when you’re needed to do things elsewhere, Loki can be with the kids.  He won’t mind even with the warpath he’s on.  He loves spending time when Pietro.”

“He does love that little boy,”  Thor said.

“He does.”  I agreed.  “I wonder what that is exactly about?  I’d put it down to the fact he loves books so much.  But remember when he came to meet them?  They were still all floppy and only just learning to roll over.   Even then he wanted to hold Pietro first despite the fact we said he was the one that was more likely to cry.”

Thor shook his head.  “Maybe he always suspected Pietro wasn’t mine biologically and therefore not the heir to the throne.”

I nodded slowly, mulling the hypothesis over.  “Could be.  Perhaps he wanted to make sure he always felt worthy the way he didn’t feel that.”

“It’s hard to say,” Thor said.  “If I understood the inner workings of my brother better, we wouldn’t have the trouble we do.”

I went to stand and he took my hand and looked up at me.  “How are you feeling this morning?  I feel like I ought to check in on you.”

I smiled down at him.  “Better.  Sleep helped.  It was dreamless too.  So that’s good.  I’m obviously still anxious, but so are you.  That’s not going to go away until this is all put to rest.”

He kissed the back of my hand.  “We will get to the bottom of this.”

I kissed him gently and went and bathed.  I changed into a less formal looking Asgardian dress than I had last night.  Though saying that, it was still far more elaborate and formal than I normally dressed.  The dress was gold with black thread work through it and wrapped around me.  Over the top, I wore a blue and black cloak.

When I came back out to the living room Steve and Tony were both up as were the kids.  Pietro was sitting in Thor’s lap drawing on some paper as Thor continued to work, while Riley tore around the room.

“Mommy!”  Riley squealed and slammed into my legs.

“My goodness, you are so hyped lately,” I said, crouching down and cuddling her.

“That might be her connection with Asgard and her newly obtained powers,” Thor said.

I nodded and moved to the couch.  “Sounds reasonable.”

The door open and Loki stalked in.  “Surprise brother.  Apparently, we have more siblings.”

Thor looked up startled and Pietro reached for Loki.  “We what?”

Loki took Pietro from Thor and the little boy snuggled into his uncle’s chest.  “I do not know who this woman is.  But she seems to be an envoy from the kingdom of Heven.  Before either of us were born our parents had two other children.  First was a son named Aldriff.  Back then Asgard was waging war everywhere.  Aldriff was killed by a spy from Heven as an infant.  Next was a daughter.  I have been unable to find anything else except word that she existed.  It’s like every record pertaining to her has been erased.”  Loki explained.  “This new faction is claiming that Aldriff was never killed but taken and raised in Heven to one day take the throne here.  Much like our parents did with me, intending I return and take the throne on Jotunheim.”

“If our brother is a worthy ruler, I’d gladly give him the throne.  Why all the subterfuge and violence?  We have no quarrel with Heven.”  Thor said.

“Wait… just back up a second.”  Tony interrupted.  “There’s a Heaven?”

“Of course, Tony,” Thor said while Loki rolled his eyes.  “These myths you have on Earth usually have an origin elsewhere.”

“Well, regardless, it looks like Heven may have been holding on to some past anger and plan to put their own puppet on the throne,” Loki said, turning the conversation back on track.  “There may be descent in your council.  I will continue to look into it.  If we can smother that it should crush any further attacks.  Heven is not strong enough on its own to take us.  It needs the support of the people.”

“And you’re sure our guest is of Heven?  Aren’t they usually possessing wings?”  Thor asked.

“I don’t know what to tell you, brother.  This is all I know so far.”  Loki said with a shrug.

There was a knock on the door and Fandral lead in the same chef from last night along with some others who were all wheeling trays of food.

“Yay!”  Riley squealed, running over to the carts.  “You maded yummy food.”

“I did, little princess.”  The chef said.

“Fank you.”  She said, looking up at him and bouncing on her feet.

The chef picked up a plate and turned crouching down and offering it to her.  “Made special for the princess.”

She clapped her hands and a breeze picked up. “Fank you.”  She took the plate and then very slowly and carefully carried it to the table.

“You are most welcome.”  He said.  “I’ve made something else for the little boy if he’d like it.”

Loki brought Pietro over and took the plate.  He tasted something and looked down at Pietro.  “You can eat it.”  He said.

“Fank you,”  Pietro said, looking over the food and then carefully sampling some, exactly as Loki had just done.  Meanwhile, Riley had made a complete mess with her food already.

“I’ve taken some liberties with the cuisine to try and make it more to your tastes.”  The chef said.  “I hope you enjoy.”

“Thank you so much,”  I said.

“Is yummy!”  Riley added, enthusiastically.

“This is the highest of praise.”  The chef said.  “Thank you, princess.”  He bowed and left the room followed by his staff.

“Winning hearts there, Rie?”  Tony asked and she grinned up at him, her face completely covered in food.  He came over and began looking over the carts as I helped myself to a selection of things.  “So, what’s on the menu this morning?  You know, aside from -”  He made an obscene gesture and I hit him.

“Tony!  The kids.”  I yelped.

“Uh-huh,”  Tony teased.  “You know you want it.”

I rolled my eyes and took a seat at the table.  “Riley, please use your fork.”  I sighed.

She scrunched her nose and picked up her fork.  She stabbed her food with the fork and then took it off the fork with her hand before putting it in her mouth.

Steve chuckled.  “That’s not how you do that, Riley.”  He said.

“I use dem.”  She said defensively.

“You put the food on the fork and then the fork in your mouth.”  He instructed.

She attempted to do as he said but the food fell off her fork and spilled down her dress.  Steve chuckled and sat down, putting her on his lap and helping her eat.

After we’d eaten the kids got cleaned up and we prepared to split into our respective groups.

“Alright.  The children are mine now.”  Loki said.

“Who’s staying with you?”  I asked.

“That would be me, my lady,” Fandral said, making a large sweeping bow.  Loki looked at him with an expression of complete boredom on his face.  “The lord Loki appears very excited to have me.  That’s okay.  We shall have fun.  Shan't we, your majesty?”  He said kneeling in front of Riley.

She did a wobbly curtsy and patted his cheeks.  “I’m majesty.”

“Where do we want to go, children?”  Loki asked.

“Wibwawy,”  Pietro answered quickly.

“No…”  Riley whined.  “Is borwing.”

“Let us compromise.  First, we shall spend time in the library and then we shall do something Riley would like to do.”  Loki said.

Riley scrunched her nose.  “It's okay, your majesty.  I'll be there.  We can make it fun together.  Annoy your uncle Loki.” Fandral said.  He offered her his hand and she took it.

“Alright, kiddos. You stay with Loki and Fandral.  No wandering off and no talking to strangers.”  I said as Loki and Fandral headed to the door with them.

“Subtle, Elise.”  Loki teased as the twins called out ‘bye-bye’.

After they were gone Hogun led Tony and Steve down to the lab and Thor took me along to a meeting with his advisors and I got to see exactly what being the King of Asgard actually meant.

// NEXT

[daydreams-and-shortattentionspan]

Speechless: Chapter 1

A/N: Hey guys I'm so sorry it’s been a while since I last posted! I just had a really hard time finding inspiration lately. This story was a way for me to work through so emotions I could really find words to put to them It kinda (if you REALLY squint) deals with mental illness. It in no way romanticizes it but more so normalizes it and normalizes talking about it and talking your way out of a dark place if you can. I really hope you guys enjoy it!

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Black!Reader

Warnings: None(? If there is something you want to be tagged in this let me know and I’ll fix it right away!)

Word Count: 2k

Chapter 2

________________________________________________________

You never wanted to be a bother to anyone, so a lot of times you kept your emotions to yourself. You were more of a ‘team therapist’ without the degree. Not that you minded being a confidant to the team; you were definitely able to keep a secret, a really good listener, and tried to give some sound advice when asked. You always tried to make everyone else feel better when they were feeling down or calming someone down when they were on a warpath (mainly stopping Sam from killing Bucky for some prank he pulled). All that was good and dandy, but sometimes you needed to talk things out and have someone just listen to you for once. That’s where Steve comes in. He was your go to person whenever you could feel one of your sad episodes coming on, or it was like he could sense you starting to shut down internally. He was the one to distract you from the invading thoughts of self doubt and internal bullying. You never really knew the cause of these sad episodes but they were always there and you had no way of stopping them.

This episode felt like it was going to be one of the extremely bad ones and you could practically hear the Windows shut down chime playing in your brain, but Steve was out on a mission at the moment when you needed him most. Again, not complaining, obviously the safety of everyone else is more important than one of your little mental pity parties, but you needed to try and get through your emotions before some small inconvenience had you becoming a big crying mess.

To avoid that inevitable minor inconvenience that would lead to your public break down, you texted Tony telling him you were feeling under the weather and weren’t coming in today. He said that it was fine and that he (along with everyone else) would miss you and hoped you’d get better soon. You turned your phone off completely and just tossed it on some random place at the foot of your bed -not wanting the reminder that everyone was happier than you-, turned on your TV and put on a movie that would no doubtedly put you in a worse mood than before. You snuggled deeper into your blankets and started your endless sadness fest.

~~~

Steve had arrived a day early due to the mission being easier than expected. He had stepped off the quinjet looking for you and possibly bracing himself to catch you in a tight embrace, but instead was met with Maria giving a quick mission debriefing. Usually he would have been engaged in the conversation but he was so focused on finding you that he hadn’t heard a word Maria had said.

After half-ass listening to Maria, Steve had begun his quest in search for you. He started off with the training room, expecting to see you on the treadmill as usual trying to beat your mile run time, hair thrown up in a high puff bouncing with every step you take, eyebrows slightly furrowed from concentration; he always admired your commitment. Instead, he was met with Bucky and Sam wrestling on the floor, shoulders slouching slightly in disappointment.

“Have you seen (Y/N)?” mind too preoccupied to worry about their latest friendly squabble. They both shook their heads no and went back to fighting.

He decided the next place he should check was the lab; you were always trying to learn something new from Bruce or Tony and oftentimes you were a helpful extra set of eyes, hands, or a new brain to pick. You liked to say that you majored in Chemistry and minored in kicking ass. Steve had a fond smile on his face as he walked, remembering the way you giggled through saying that. When he had made it to the lab he was met with Bruce muttering to himself, most likely about whatever he was working on.

“Have you seen (Y/N)?” he asked while looking around, expecting you to come out of some back room with something for Bruce, or walking out with Tony talking about whatever he was working on. Something, anything, he just needed to see you.

“Uh… No, I haven’t. Did you try the training room?” Bruce asked in return, to which Steve shook his head no.

“Have you tried the kitchen?” Steve had mentally smacked his palm on his forehead for not thinking about the kitchen. He was already out the door without saying a word.

This should have been one of the first places he should have checked, you always loved to bake whenever you had a free day at the tower to take advantage of the ‘fancy schmancy’ state of the art kitchen as you so eloquently put it. He loved watching you bake, you always put your music that he always found so calming along with the view of you making your way around the kitchen, you always looked so carefree and happy when you were there singing and dancing and stirring up ingredients, he always thought you made such simple things look like art. He was down the hall from the kitchen and heard rustling in the fridge, but no music. He had turned the corner only to find Tony eating grapes and grabbing a water. Tony had tossed a grape into the air and caught it in his mouth, grinning to himself in cocky satisfaction. Steve had taken out his phone and decided to call you, only to hear the sound of your voicemail instantly. He sighed in defeat, all he wanted to do was see you after this mission but there was also a growing concern in his mind. With one last chance of hope he turned to Tony as he was scrolling through some hologram for whatever he was working on.

“Tony, have you seen (Y/N)?”

“Not here today. Texted me saying she’s not coming in because she was feeling ‘under the weather’” Tony had replied nonchalantly, not looking up from his hologram. Steve furrowed his brow; you never texted if you were sick, you always called, and you never said feeling ‘under the weather’ he knew how theatrical you were when you weren’t feeling well and always had to say you were so close to death. He walked towards the elevator and headed towards the garage. He immediately hopped on his motorcycle and only had one destination on his mind.

~~~

As you predicted, you spent all day in bed, only getting up for the occasional snack and bathroom break. You watched all the ones that lowered your spirits and brought them back up to still sad state but not as sad as before, Waiting to Exhale, Poetic Justice, Higher Learning. Now you were watching Cinderella with Brandy and Whitney Houston hoping this might be the one to bring you out of your funk but all signs were pointing to no at this moment. Most of the time, intrusive thoughts filled your mind taking your attention away from the films.

‘No one probably is even missing me right now.’

‘They’re probably happy I didn’t show up.’

‘No one even likes me there.’

‘They probably don’t even think of me as a friend

“They only talk to me out of pity.’

‘I’m such a waste of space there’

‘Why do I even bother?’

The sound of a motorcycle passing your apartment muted the thoughts for a moment and caused butterflies to erupt in your stomach making yourself believe it was your own prince charming Steve coming to your apartment to get you out of this endless, black pit that was your emotions. Your mood began to sour even more if that were even possible, you knew if you were to check out your window you'd be in for a let down so big; you didn’t even want to know how much more deeper you’d go into your sadness.

~~~

Steve saw your bedroom window was open, indicating that you were in fact home. He parked and made his way to your apartment, not even buzzing your apartment for you to let him up because he already had a key and the code to get in. You had given those things to him a few months back -and every time they changed the code- so he could water your plants while you were out on a mission. He had arrived at your door and knocked announcing his presence to you before using his key to enter.

~~~

You shot up at the sound of someone knocking on your door followed by the sound of someone messing with the locks. Your bedroom was wide open and faced the front door and the only distance between the two doors was your living area, so you had a moment  to think of what to do but also had to think fast. Instantly, you reached for the gun in your nightstand drawer. You might not have been in the right headspace and you weren’t exactly happy about your life at the moment but you’d be damned if you were going to let some dumbass try to take it from you. The door opened slowly and in popped Steve’s head, you instantly had let your guard down and stopped reaching for your weapon, Looking straight at you he looked to have breathed a sigh of relief and made his way straight to the side of your bed and sat down, grabbing your arm and pulling you in a tight embrace. This small act was pushing you closer to the edge of opening the floodgates that had been slowly building behind your eyes.

“I was so worried about you,” Steve had sighed, still holding you close, this caused the tears to flow with no end in sight. All the pent up feelings you had been holding were finally free, not just sadness but anger and happiness too. You just needed to release everything and Steve was the only person you felt safe and comfortable with doing so.

~~~

Steve could feel that this is what you need, he didn’t even have to say a word. He just knew that this is what you needed: to be held and to be listened to because that’s all you ever wanted at times like this. He was there to relieve the burden he knew was weighing down your heart.

~~~

After a few more moments of crying, you began putting yourself back together, wiping your nose and face, taking a few deep breaths and just overall calming down. When you had felt slightly better, Steve had given you a look; a look you had grown so accustomed to. Whether you two were standing at opposite ends of a room, or next to each other in a debriefing, it was always the same, it always said ‘are you okay?’ You simply shook your head no, this was followed by a look that said ‘do you wanna take about it?’ You shook your head again -losing all desire to speak at all-, he always took this as a sign to just be closer to you, to give you a sense of comfort. So he took off his shoes, jacket and pants and got under the blankets with you and just held you while you continued watching your movies. The more time you spent together, the more you could feel your spirits lift at a slow pace almost like your mental batteries were on a charger. At random moments during the movies, you’d bring up something that bothered you while he was gone, venting slowly and lifting the weight that had stayed heavily on your shoulders when he was away. You could feel yourself going back to ‘normal’, whatever normal was anyway. You felt whole again, almost new. You don’t know what you’d do without Steve, and you never wanted to imagine what life would be like without him. You snuggled deeper into the blankets with him and began to memorize all your favorite parts of him. You wondered if he ever did the same thing when it came to you.

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