#steve: i have never seen a receipt before in my life

[avalonlights]

"Did you keep the receipt?" for @harringroveweek Day 1

[jimblejamblewritings]

not a soldat | part 6.

Summary: Y/N L/N is not a superhero. No serums, no agencies. Just a civilian from a long line of family that’s served in the military. Y/N’s a history buff and bit of a spy in her own special way. This somehow lands her in trouble she never saw coming and straight into the hands of Falcon, Captain America, and Black Widow… if she doesn’t get caught in the unbreakable grasp of the Winter Soldier first.

Warning for the Series: violence, angst, slow burn

Pairing: Bucky x black!reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Previous Part | (Series Masterlist)

While still being arrested since you were at the scene, Rhodey had convinced them to let you sit in the passenger’s seat of the van currently carrying Steve, Sam, and T’Challa. The three men behind the caged area. You ignored most of their conversation— checking out after Sam asked T’Challa if he liked cats. To say you were pissed was an understatement. The men were all in comfortable outfits that they had under their suits, Sam and Steve were even allowed their jackets. You hadn’t been allowed to go back home and change, not even with an escort.

They had wanted everyone on planes to Berlin immediately. And with no other women on the squad that had come to collect Bucky, you were stuck in your sundress. The only satisfaction you got was no one had searched you, Sam and Steve would’ve put up a fight and even Rhodey knew a line would be crossed. So you still had all the contents of you and Bucky’s bags in your backpack as well as the knife still hidden on your thigh.

“And now, because your friend murdered my father…”

You checked in when you heard T’Challa speak those words.

“He didn’t murder anybody,” you said but you were ignored.

“So I ask you as warrior and king, how long do you think you can keep your friend safe from me?”

“He didn’t murder anyone,” you said loudly.

The three men got quiet. You turned as best as you could to look T’Challa in the eye. King or not, he had no right.

“I’ve been with him every day since being in Romania. So tell me, king, how can a man be in two places at once? I don’t care what you think you know and I’m sorry for your loss, I understand how that feels but the man who murdered your father is not the man locked up in the van behind us. He’s innocent.”

“You would vouch for him?”

“With my life… and my life is not cheap, Your Highness.”

Sam and Steve smirked when you turned back around. T’Challa grabbed his necklace that held his father’s ring and rubbed it between his fingers. He didn’t know you very well but the bandage around your leg, the sundress, and clear lack of fighting… not even a spy could act that natural, you were clearly not an accomplice of any kind to Barnes. He knew what he saw, what everyone said but T’Challa wanted to believe you.

You were escorted out of the car to the garage of a very secure building. In front of you was a CIA man and the familiar face of Sharon Carter who looked very puzzled to see you with them.

“What’s going to happen to him?” Steve asked as you guys spotted Bucky’s containment unit being wheeled in.

“Same thing that ought to happen to you,” the man said. “Psychological evaluation and extradition.”

“For what?” you asked. “He didn’t do anything.”

“I’m sorry, who is she?”

Sharon stepped in before you could say something. “This is Everett Ross, Deputy Task Force Commander.”

“How about a lawyer?” you continued.

“Lawyer. That’s funny. See that their weapons are locked up, we’ll write you a receipt.”

Ross was grating on you. He looked you up and down with a raised brow and air of condescension. “And figure out what she knows.”

“Sir, I don’t think…” Sharon protested along with the others.

“Only if I stay with him,” you said.

“No,” Ross pressed.

“I’ll run.”

“Have you seen the armed guards?”

Sam grabbed at your arm. T’Challa looked on with intrigue, you shied away from everyone but fought so hard for Barnes. Why?

“You shoot a civilian? Better hope you kill me with one shot because I’m sure the press would have a field day, when I tell you everything, I’m sure they’ll still have a field day.”

“She really a civilian?” Ross turned to Sharon.

“Sir, that’s (Y/N) (L/N).”

“The S.H.I.E.L.D. historian… Shit!” Ross exclaimed when Sharon nodded. “You guys infiltrated her safehouse?! Damn it, this makes us the bad… okay, will you talk with us in the office and then we get you to Barnes immediately?”

You nodded.

“Get her a proper medic and find a change of clothes.”

You walked over to Bucky and gave him a smile, one he returned very tight-lipped. You shook hands with the Avengers who had only heard of you from Nick and had seen maybe one or two pictures. It didn’t take long for the entire government building to hear about how they fucked up and got you caught in the crossfire. Everyone stared at the wrapping around your leg. You were informed after taking a seat that the UN members were already aware that you were with them— of course only a few S.H.I.E.L.D. members knew your face but your name and what you did was known by everyone. Before the Accords were even a thing, you were the loose link between S.H.I.E.L.D. and the UN. The mole that knew how to keep a secret so well they couldn’t even pin a location on you.

You watched them hook up Bucky’s containment unit into a large outlet on the security screens. The edge everyone had from Sam and Steve off the grid mission was quickly forgotten. Even Tony couldn’t be mad after seeing you, he knew something else was up. They all did and before they entered the room, Steve had made up his mind to sign the Accords. He had made it up after seeing you almost get dropped on the highway after T’Challa had leaped onto Sam. You were the civilians he was trying to protect and they had done a bad job of that. Steve had always fought for freedom, it was an American thing, a 40s thing.

He felt the Accords were stifling that freedom of the Avengers to stop the bad guys— how could they stop fights if they had to wait for a panel to confirm, everyone knew the UN was slow. But maybe it was the right way to go about if it protected people like you, someone that protected Bucky.

“Coffee?” Tony asked you.

“Tea, please.”

“Coming right up.”

Ross sat across from you while everyone else took seats at the table. The Secretary of State was pulled up on video call. You thanked Tony for the tea and placed it in front of you. Ross’ face dropped with each sentence, so did T’Challa. Bucky couldn’t have been the man, not unless you secretly had super spy training and were lying to all of them. Nat prided herself in knowing people and she knew you. The same woman that helped her and Steve was the same woman in front of them— not a liar.

“But if it wasn’t Barnes then who?”

“Is that my problem? I told you Bucky was with me, we didn’t even know about Vienna.”

“He still needs to answer—”

“For what, Secretary?”

Nat sat back a little, she hadn’t seen this nippy side of you but was thoroughly enjoying it.

“For his crimes, Miss (L/N).”

“When he was a prisoner of war under HYDRA. I didn’t realize the US government encouraged the torture of war prisoners, or excuse crimes of people they like and ignore helping actual victims… actually after reading what I have, I’m not surprised. Should I pull up the countless journals I have? I’m interested how the general public would feel about reading how HYDRA slipped under the nose of almost every government in the world.”

“Miss (L/N), I don’t think you understand the gravity of this.”

“I don’t think you understand, Secretary. My job is enough to put all of you under and I will release every document to the public. Every backdoor contract, unknown HYDRA spy, shady table dealing. You think you’re secret but your paper trail is heavy and even digital leaves a footprint. You shouldn’t have given me the keycard to the world.”

Rhodey tried to hide his snort. Sam and Natasha smirked while Steve looked on proud, his friend picked one hell of a girl to protect him. The secretary’s face hardened for a moment. He knew you were right. They all knew you were right, there was enough evidence to shut down the world and it was all under your thumb. And that was something they couldn’t take back now or ever.

“So you propose we just let Barnes go? Let the Avengers run wild.”

“I propose we get Bucky the actual help he needs and you negotiate the Accords on better terms.”

“Privately?”

“God, no. My whole family is a part of this world. Contrary to whatever you may think, I do understand how this works. Bucky will have to speak publicly, on the UN floor. But after that you let him go and we redo the Accords. Take it or leave it.”

“If we leave it, you’ll pull the trigger won’t you?”

“Her nickname is Caliber,” Sam spoke up, giving Ross an answer while you just sipped your tea.

“Fine. I’ll get the UN on the phone, this will take time. Are we allowed to interrogate, I mean question Barnes while he is here, Miss (L/N)? As a preliminary.”

“I can’t stop you from that, Secretary.”

“I wouldn’t know anymore.”

He hung up and everyone around the table looked at you. Ross was the first to speak in a demeanor that you assumed was him trying to apologize for earlier. He called in the medic who undid the first wrappings and began to disinfect— T’Challa apologized for causing the wounds. His hit was enough to take out a super soldier, at the time he hadn’t realized you weren’t involved and by no means a super soldier. You nodded through a hiss as the disinfectant touched your leg, accepting T’Challa’s apology. Sharon came back with a pile of clothes for you.

“How about we get you bandaged, clothes changed and then we take you down to see the tail end of Barnes’ questioning in person?” Ross asked.

“Sounds good.”

You turned your attention towards the screen showing Bucky’s container while the medic pulled out the bandages to start a rewrap, Ross turned up the volume so everyone could hear. Tony watched Steve thumb through the Accords. It was a moot point since you had made it so clear that they would be renegotiated but the corner of Tony’s mouth lifted as he watched Steve sign it before passing the pen to Sam.

“I’m not here to judge you. I just want to ask you a few questions.” You heard the interviewer ask Bucky.

“Do you know where you are James… I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me, James.”

“My name is Bucky.”

Ross relaxed again. He was prepared to send you in, fully bandaged or not, hoping that Bucky would talk if you were there but he started before Ross could move.

“Tell me Bucky, you’ve seen a great deal haven’t you?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Steve turned back to the pictures in front of him while you focused on the interrogation TV, blocking out everyone else.

“Why would the Task Force release this photo in the first place?” Steve asked. Everyone but you turned to him.

“I’m saying, it seems like a good way to flush a guy out of hiding. Set off a bomb, get your picture taken and the world starts looking for the Winter Soldier.”

“You think someone framed him to find him?” Sharon asked.

“Considering (Y/N)’s the only one who managed to see him all this time, the only way to find him would have to be big.”

“But that doesn’t guarantee that whoever framed him would find him.”

“Yeah,” Ross chimed in. “It guarantees that we would.”

All of a sudden the building was plunged in darkness. Ross started talking over a walkie talkie for someone to get the power back up and get the cameras back on. Tony started scrambling for F.R.I.D.A.Y. to find the source of the power outage and fix it. The lights came up and you were the first to spot it, having never taken your eyes off of the monitors.

You recognized the star on the big red book that was now on the table of the interviewer in the room with Bucky. The Russian words that you had memorized after seeing them written in so many different documents— hidden in code until you had put all the pieces together.

“Guys!”

You directed their attention to Bucky thrashing around screaming ‘no’. He broke through his chains but couldn’t get through the thick glass of the box. Bucky started banging on it to try and break it.

“Someone gets Barnes out of there!” Ross yelled over the walkie. “And one of you, get her out.”

Everyone left the room, you being flanked by Tony and Rhodey. Tony pulled you back as they made their way to the cafe on ground level. You heard the punch and knew it was Bucky. Not your Bucky from Romania but the Winter Soldier.

“Is there another way out of here for her?”

“He’s blocking it,” Ross said.

“I’ll go back up, see a second way,” Rhodey said before leaving.  

“Okay, shit, we’re gonna have to fight through. Stay back if you can (Y/N),” Tony said as he whipped out his Iron-Man glove— the only part of the suit he had on him.

“Understood.”

You watched Tony go in first. He ended with his ass on the floor but at least he got Bucky to empty all the bullets from the gun he had grabbed. Nat and Sharon tag teamed Bucky and wow were you mildly jealous of the women and their fighting skills. They were brilliant. Until they weren’t as they were both crashed into tables. T’Challa was next and you already knew he would be down as Bucky turned to him.

The Winter Soldier was on a rampage and for what you didn’t know. You were stuck on the stairs when he came towards you, the only target left. You grabbed at the knife on your thigh as Bucky’s arm pinned you against the wall, his metal arm slowly crushing your windpipe. He grabbed at your wrist holding the knife causing it to drop. Bucky looked down at the knife on the floor.

“Soldat, please,” you barely whispered.

He quickly pulled his arm away from your throat. Looking you in the eye, Bucky tilted your chin so he could see your neck. Not seeing any bruising or signs of harm, he bent down to grab the knife and shoved the handle roughly into your hand. His eyes seemed to harden again. You sank to the floor as he raced up the stairs. Steve who was coming from the sublevels met you shaking, the knife wobbling back and forth.

“He went upstairs, I think he recognized me,” you said as Steve crouched to check on you. “Go, Steve. I’ll be fine.”

The knife shaking in your hand told him otherwise but Steve left at your insistence and raced up the stairs to find Bucky. It wasn’t hard as he followed the sounds of T’Challa fighting him— the man had darted up the stairs seconds after Bucky left you.

(Part 7)...

[natti-ice]

The Letter- Eddie Munson.

Eddie Munson x gn!reader

You find a letter your late boyfriend wrote you before his death.

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, grief (1.4k words)

Author’s note: this is a reupload, I wrote this a while ago!

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated<3

It had been two days since you lost Eddie. Two days of numb. You hadn't cried since you found out he was gone, you were in so much pain that you couldn't feel a thing. That night in the upside down your world changed forever, you lost the one person you ever truly cared about.

Your friends did all they could to console you they were all the nicest you'd ever seen them, It's strange how grieving death makes others see you differently. You became this fragile and delicate house of cards to them, they were afraid to breathe around you terrified you would fall.

You hadn't left the house since that night, you laid in bed replaying that night over and over thinking of all the things you could've done to save him. You knew it wasn't your fault but a part of you felt so guilty. He should be alive, he should be getting awarded a medal of honor for risking his life for the town that wanted him dead, Eddie deserved so much more than what he got.

You know you couldn't keep lying around hating yourself for what happened, today you had planned to go to the school with Steve and Robin to give donations. The town was completely recked since the "earthquake", you figured you could play your part and help.

You took a shower and made yourself look as presentable as possible, people knew you and Eddie were together so you had to act like you knew nothing. It made you sick. You missed his touch, you wanted to hear the sound of his voice one last time but that day would never come. You didn't have much of his things, a few bracelets he made you, and a jacket you stole from him months ago that has become a staple in your day-to-day fashion.

Before heading out you grabbed the jacket off the back of the chair in your room and put it on, you were in a bit of a rush it was 9:50 and you told Steve you'd meet them at 10. You were a bit all over the place, you searched for your keys that weren't in their usual spot. Anxiety builds in your stomach when you can't find them, you looked all over your room, around the house, and found nothing. You searched the pockets of your jacket, maybe by chance you left them in there since you hadn't been thinking clearly the past few days.

Everything felt like it was falling apart and you couldn't do anything to fix it. You reached into the inside pocket of the old jacket, you didn't feel your keys just something that felt like paper. You pulled it out expecting it to be an old receipt, when you laid your eyes on it you realized you were mistaken.

It was a folded-up piece of lined paper, a little wrinkled like someone had been too rough with it. Your name was scribbled across one of the folds with black ink, you recognized the handwriting immediately. It was his. You would often joke with Eddie about how awful his handwriting was and he'd always laugh about it, you could still hear the sound of his laughter. Your heart dropped to your stomach, there was an ache in your chest the same one you felt when Dustin told you he was gone. 

You had never seen it before, you had no idea how it got in there. You slowly started to unfold the paper, trying to keep your hands as steady as possible. You could see scribbles throughout the page, he never had a way with words. 

You took a deep breath before you began to read, 

Y/N, 

My love,

There are a few reasons you might be reading this, 1) you found it prematurely and we are now having an awkward conversation. 2) You found it before I could steal it back and we are now having an awkward conversation. Or 3) I didn't make it out alive. 

I really hope that you never have to read this, but in the case that you do read it, I just need to tell you everything. I'm terrified of this whole situation, I kinda miss the days when I hated this shit town because of the people and not the evil that lurks under it. I don't know what's going to happen, I have a really bad feeling it's not going to end well. There are so many things I want to say to you but I'm afraid I won't have enough time to write them all, you're kinda in the other room right now. 

I'm very surprised I haven't had a psychotic break yet, you're the only thing keeping me sane right now. Thank you. Thank you for being there for me even when I didn't deserve it, things haven't always been easy in our relationship but you never gave up on us. You make me want to be a better person every day, I don't want to run and hide from the emotions I don't understand because you don't run. The fact that you've been dealing with this end-of-the-world shit for years is crazy, I wish you would've told me but a part of me is happy I was oblivious. I wish I could've been there for you during all of this. 

Do you remember the first day we met? I remember it very clearly, It was the first day of sophomore year and you were wearing this old shirt of a band I'm sure no one had ever heard of besides me. I knew I had to talk to you, but I was afraid that you wouldn't want anything to do with me. "The freak" a nickname I've grown to like, I just wasn't sure you would want anything to do with someone like me. When I finally worked up the courage to say "nice shirt" and I saw your smile, I knew you were the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Yes, I know how crazy that sounds because I was 16, and to this day it still holds true. 

That's when you felt it, the wetness dripping down your face, you didn't realize you had started to cry until teardrops hit the paper and smudged the ink. You blinked the tears out of your eyes and wiped the away with your sleeve before continuing to read. Your brain read every word in his voice. 

I should wrap this up, you guys are probably ready to leave by now. I am so sorry for any pain this may cause you, seeing you hurting kills me, but you're the strongest person I have ever met, you'll be okay without me, I promise. I just want you to know, I will love you until my final breath. You are my greatest love and I am eternally grateful to have felt your love.

You are going to save the world, I believe in you.

Forever yours,

Eddie

You allowed yourself to weep, the one thing you've dreaded since he died. Crying solidified that he was gone, it made it real. 

After what felt like a lifetime you finally calmed yourself down, it was well past 10 now but you had promised your friends. You got off your bed, your pillow was completely soaked, and you walked over to the mirror in the corner of your room and stared at yourself. Your eyes were red and puffy, you wiped away the remaining tears on your face. You looked at yourself so long that your reflection seemed to be a complete stranger. 

You couldn't bare it much longer, you had to look away. You took the letter that was still clinched in your hand and shoved it into a drawer, before you could shut it you saw the keys you had been searching for. You let out a shaky breath while staring at the crumpled letter, you waited for a miracle to happen, for him to pop up behind you and say it was all a cruel joke. You knew once you closed the drawer, he was gone forever. 

You thought about what he told you "You'll be okay without me, I promise." Was he right? Could you really get through life without him? At this moment you couldn't answer, you thought about what he would want for you. You knew Eddie best, he wouldn't want you sulking around feeling bad about yourself when you knew there were people who needed your help. 

Without a second thought, you decided you will do whatever it takes, you wouldn't let Eddie become a fool for believing in you. You took the keys from the drawer and closed it, you shook the nerves out of your hands before heading out. This was a start, it was small but a start nonetheless.

Every single thing you did from now on, was for Eddie. 

[may-fanfic]

Hiya,may I request romanoff!reader (of course lol) like she's a civilian and no one really knows apart from a few that nat even has a daughter to keep her safe. So Nat finds out that she's started dating this amazing girl she met (maybe like a book shop) so surprise surprise the day Nat visits she finds out yn has a date and the door knocks sp Nat decides to open it, not expecting Wanda to be there, both shocked as hell till its reveled wanda is the date and nat is her mum :D please and thanku x

Broken Agreements 

summary: when Natasha had you, she kept you out of the public eye but one day you go out and meet someone unbeknownst to you, your mom and wanda already know each other 

warning: none, correct me if I'm wrong 

paring: wanda maximoff x reader, mom!nat x reader

word count: 2,062 

a/n: sorry this took so long, I wasn’t home for a couple of days but I hope you enjoy 💕

((feel free to send in any request you may have 💕))

masterlist

---------

when Natasha had you, she knew that it was the best bet to keep you out of the public eye. it wasn't that she wanted to keep you locked up in the house all day but she knew there were far too many risks when it came to introducing you.  it was easy for her to keep you in her sight when you were younger but the older you got, you began to crave more than just visits to Clint's house. she secretly hated that you were older now because she knew you need more and when you uttered that out to her, she couldn't stand the puppy dog eyes you were giving her. "okay fine." she rolled her eyes as you squealed, relieved that she was understanding enough. 

so with that, Natasha allowed occasional outings, warning you that you had a set time to be back because she couldn't stand the idea of you being alone in the middle of the night. you were understanding of that, promising that nothing would stop you from returning home before the sunset. 

---

Natasha was gone for the day, leaving just after she made you breakfast and despite promising your mom that you wouldn't leave without telling her first, you had just finished your last book. you wished that you picked an extra one-up the last time you were out because now boredom struck and you had nothing else to do. you knew you could make it back before your mom ever returned home so with that you dressed, checking the time before you went. 1:22 pm. you had more than enough time you reminded yourself with a small grin. 

knowing that you weren't allowed to be out, only made it more exciting. you hardly ever broke rules when it came to your mom, not only because she was intimidating but because you respected her and you knew she always had your best interest in mind. you finally reached your favorite book shop with a certain book in mind already you moved through the small shop. you browsed for a moment, not turning up with anything more interesting than the book that you saw last time. you knew exactly where it was because you knew that store like the back of your hand so you moved to the section you could find it, grinning when you saw that there was only one left. you hardly noticed the girl beside you until you reached forward to grab the book just as she did, her hand softly brushing against yours. you shyly retrieved your hand, your gaze fixed to the floor. "sorry." you uttered out causing the girl beside you to chuckle lightly. 

"it's okay," she reassured, nudging you lightly with said book causing you to look up at her, only now taking note of her breathtaking features. you could feel your heart pound in your throat as you swallowed hard, she had been smiling sweetly at you, far more relaxed than you. "here, take it." she offered but you quickly shook your head. "you can have it, I'll wait for the restock," you muttered despite, really wanting to read that exact book. she shook her head, her smile growing with every passing second. 

"I couldn't," she muttered, extending her hand forward for you to take the book but when you didn't move a muscle, the girl sighed, the smile still prominent on her lips. "how about this-" she paused for a moment when she noticed that she had peeped your interest. your eyebrows rose in question waiting patiently for her proposal. "I'll give you the book if you buy me a coffee," she stated, her smile growing when your cheeks seemed to flush over.  "it's only fair," she stated, shrugging lightly. 

you knew your mother always warned you about strangers but your interest in the young woman had been strong and you couldn't help but wanna get to know her more so with a nod, you took the book from her hand, letting her follow you through the shop and out the door. 

she uttered out her coffee order to you, smiling when you moved to go to the counter. she called out that she'd find both of your seats. you could feel your heart pound as you made your way over to the table that she settled down on, placing her mug right in front of her. she had been looking through the book, setting it aside when you came to greet her. "you're gonna like the book." she whispered causing you to nod lightly. 

"I hope so, I've been meaning to buy it," you stated, her expressions had been soft as she brought the hot mug to her lips, looking over at you from over the top of it. once the awkwardness of the situation died down, the conversation seemed to flow naturally and you noticed that you were losing all of yourself in the conversation, time hadn't been a thing. 

realization seemed to dawn on you when the shop owner announced that they'd be closed in less than 5 minutes and then your heart sunk and you felt the nervousness eat at your once joyful mood. "I had a really good time, wanda but I gotta go," you whispered suddenly noticing that the sunset and the street were lit up by the streetlights, there hadn't been a sign of sun anywhere. "let me take you home." she offered but you knew your mom would throw even more of a cow if she knew you gave your address to a stranger. "thank you but I'm okay." before wanda could even completely process what happened, you were gone. 

you looked at your watch, reading the time only made you feel so much worse. 8:56 pm. you let out a soft sigh, rushing home as quickly as possible. you were breathing heavy and hard when you finally made it to your house, hoping that the redhead was still stuck at work. 

you opened the door after catching your breath, meeting the faces of every Avenger. they had all been like uncles to you but you'd never seen them all in the same room, suited up before. it made you feel guilty, you knew you had worried them before you could even talk, Natasha rushed over to you, her fear outweighed any anger she felt because you were okay and that's the most important thing to her. "oh my god! where were you? what would you thinking?" she rambled, tugging you into a tight hug that you melted into, feeling yourself relax because she wasn't as mad as you thought. 

you spoke too soon because as soon as she pulled away from the hug, you could see her relieved expression turn into pure anger because how could you leave and have her worry like that? 

"what were you thinking, Y/n Romanoff?" the use of your full name made your eyes widen as you stared back at the woman who gave you life. "I wanted a book." you stated softly causing a huff to slip past her lips. "you couldn't pick up your phone? that's why you have it y/n! I called at least a hundred times!"

your gaze snapped from her eyes to the floor, finding it to be the most interesting thing right about now. "I even had to call uncle tony, steve, and bruce. you know how worried you made us?" you swallowed hard, hating the feeling of disappointment. "don't you ever do that again, you hear me?" she lectured causing you to mutter out a soft 'yes ma'am'. 

"go to your room." she was done as she turned away from you, you didn't think twice before speed walking up those stairs and into your room.

 it only now dawned on you that you didn't get the girl's number. the only proof of your day was the book and coffee receipt. sighing softly, you set the paper aside, taking a seat on the foot of your bed, staring down at the book in disappointment. it wasn't until you flip open the book and settled on the front page did the lecture you received from your mom seem worth it because on the paper, neat handwriting could be made out. you smiled down at it, feeling your heart skipped a beat tracing the words with your pointer finger. 

I still want the book, call me when you're finished - wanda 

you smiled down at the number in disbelief, determined to finish the book as quickly as possible so you could call wanda. 

you read the book much faster than expected, you were eager to finish it and when you finally called wanda to tell her that she could have the book, muttering about how good you thought it was, she had been grinning madly because almost every day she waited by her phone hoping and praying that it'd ring and now she could hear your voice so clearly. she didn't hesitate to cut you off about the book and ask you on a date. 

-----

as much as you enjoyed having your mom around, you were glad when she told you she'd be out that day because it gave you the chance to invite wanda over for dinner. wanda happily accepted the invite, glad that she would finally spend some alone time with you. 

for the past couple of months, you’ve had occasional meet-ups at coffee shops and restaurants but Wanda always wanted more and now she had been given exactly what she wanted. she couldn't be more excited. 

your excitement seemed to wear off when your mom arrived home much early than expected, questioning you about the candles and seemingly put-together dinner. your eyes flushed over, stumbling over your words when you told her you had a date and thought she'd be out much longer. she wiggled her eyebrows at you, a smirk playing on her lips. she knew that you had been involved with someone because one day after returning from a date with wanda, you had been too giddy and couldn't hold back when she asked you why you were so happy. 

"I can't wait to finally meet this mystery girl." she teased, smiling at the redness in your cheeks. you knew she'd met her eventually but you were still nervous, your mom had always been a hard person to please and you wanted her to like Wanda as much as you did. 

when the knock at your door sounded, your mom's eyes met yours, her grin grew even more. "I got it," she spoke, her voice filled with excitement before you could even stop her from opening the door, she had already been there, turning the doorknob with ease. you took a couple of steps forward to stand behind your mom so the girl didn't feel too bombarded. 

when the door was pulled open, her smile was the first thing you saw, and then it was the flowers she held, you could feel your heart swoon but then you noticed the way her smile dropped when she looked at your mom, confusion written in her expressions. "Wanda?" Natasha uttered out as she looked over the girl intensely enough to make the girl's gaze drop to the ground. "what are you doing here?" your mother questioned as she stared blankly at the youngest Avenger. "I'm here for-"

"you know each other?" you suddenly questioned, looking between wanda and your mom. you searched their faces for an answer but turned up with nothing until your mom spoke softly. "she's been recruited." that was enough for you to know exactly what your mom meant. 

Natasha couldn't be upset at Wanda, there was no way she could've ever known that you were her child and if she was honest, she was glad wanda turned up instead of an unfamiliar face. "come in, wanda." your mom's voice came out gentle and almost reassuring. 

"aren't you supposed to be on lockdown?" she questioned once wanda had entered and taken her coat off, holding the roses tightly in her hands. 

it finally occurred to Natasha why the witch was never around. every time they had been looking for wanda, she was with you. 

"cap let me out for the day." she lied causing Natasha to raise an eyebrow at the teenager but she didn't press. "lockdown for what?" you stared up at the witch, feeling like you knew absolutely nothing about her. wanda hated the way you were looking at her. she opened her mouth to talk but was quickly cut off by your mom's soft voice. 

"that's not important, babes." but it felt pretty important to you and Natasha knew you wouldn't drop it. "I'm gonna head out," she spoke softly, offering the both of you a smile. she knew you'd both have a lot to talk about and she wanted nothing to do with that. 

once the door closed, you turned to wanda with a wary look on your face. "I was gonna tell you." her words had been shaky, her gaze struggled to meet yours but she still did. wanda had looked beautiful that night all dressed in a flowy red dress. "why didn't you?" you questioned, a frown taking over your lips as she breathed out a sigh. 

"I didn't want to ruin things. you're the only person who's ever really seen me for who I am and I was scared you wouldn't look at me the same," she confessed and you couldn't be mad at Wanda so instead you nodded, looking at the roses that she had a tight grip on. 

"are those for me?" you asked softly, her usual smile tugging at her plump lips, her cheeks turning bright pink. she extended her hand, her smile only growing when you took them, along with her hand leading her through the house and to the dining room. as you did so, wanda couldn't help but swoon. she was relieved that nothing really changed and you'd still have you at the end of the day. 

she didn't know what she was worried about before, it was clear that you were different. 

[emwritesstuff]

as the world caves in | ch. 9 | bucky barnes x reader

synopsis: You are a ghost story. A former Air Force pilot who had her plane shot down by Germany in 1945, but here you were in 2023, alive and frozen in your 25-year-old body.

You haven’t seen Bucky since the 1940’s, before his fall, before you went on a suicide mission only to come back alive. You aren’t sure reliving those memories – and being a living memory of everything the man has lost – is the best for him.

But you and Bucky won’t be apart for long.

This will loosely follow the plot of TFATWS - so spoilers ahead, specially regarding episode six (finale). Thread carefully!

masterlist | AO3

notes:  thank you everyone for your patience with this chapter. I'm dropping this lil shortie so we can get the story moving. Let's go! (warnings: lil' fluff, lil' angst) (word count: 3K) nine: records

Bucky knocked on your door a few weeks later.

It was late, and you were snug in your pajamas, winding down after a long day. With your identity no longer a secret, the government was in the midst of transferring you to something more… hands-on, and definitely less diplomatic, you were assuming; so much for retirement, but you figured 30 years of it had been more time than you could’ve anticipated.

You almost didn’t hear the soft rapping on wood over Vera Lynn’s mellow singing.

When you finally opened it, you found him standing there, wearing tired eyes and a dark coat. “I’m sorry, I know it’s late, but I started walking and I—"

“When I said you’re welcome anytime, Bucky Barnes, I meant any time.”

A tiny fraction of a smile was offered your way, and you grasped it tight against your heart at the same time you do his hand, pulling him inside.

His fingers lingered on yours, but before you could start thinking about it he pulled away, taking a seat at the edge of your couch. “I finished it. The book.”

Bucky answered your question before you could ask it. “I just came from there. The last one– the last name.”

“Well. Are you alright?” You sat next to him, your knee knocking against his, and his gaze went from the floor, to the spot where your legs touched, and then to you. He knitted his eyebrows, seeming a little incredulous you were even asking.

“I will be.” His hands intertwined on the space between his knees, and you placed a hand ton his shoulder, getting him to look at you again.

“Yes, you will. Do you want to talk about it?”

One corner of Bucky’s lip raised up, and he shook his head. “Is that Vera Lynn?”

You smiled, turning to look at your record player as if Vera herself was sitting next to it. “It is. Takes me back, I guess.”

“It’s all we’d listen to at the front.”

Nodding, you wondered for a second if Bucky remembered dancing to We’ll Meet Again the night before he was shipped off. Even if you weren’t the only girl he had danced with then, you still asked yourself if that memory was burned on his mind as it was on yours.

We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when. A short-term promise, made back then by hopeful lovers, friends, family members; you had no idea that those lyrics would prove themselves so literal when you and Bucky mouthed them at each other in the middle of a dancefloor.

You let out a breathy chuckle, standing up and beckoning him to where you kept the rest of your vinyl. “Come on. Vera’s starting to feel a little too nostalgic to me.”

Your record collection was pretty extensive, ranging from things of the good ol’ days from the special editions that were still being released nowadays. Bucky joined you on the floor, and together you started to make your way through decades eternized in discs.

“Marvin Gaye.”

You look up from The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust, finding Bucky making a face at the album he was holding. “It’s really good. Do you want to—”

“No. No more Marvin Gaye.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “You don’t like him?”

“I like Marvin Gaye! Jesus. Marvin is good—Marvin’s jus’ fine,” Bucky rubbed his eyes with his thumb and middle finger, and you finally understood.

“Sam’s been preaching you the word of R&B to you too, huh?”

You giggled at the tired look he gave you and silently took Trouble Man out of his hands, stuffing it back with the rest of the 1970’s.

Years ago, Bucky would be delighted to dive headfirst in the new – your trips to countless science fairs and expositions were enough proof of that – but looking at him now, knowing him as you were starting to once again, you figured that just a dip of the toes was more than enough.

You pulled Frank Sinatra from the 1950’s section.

“I know Sinatra.”

“Do you now?”

You put the record on your player, and Vera Lynn’s longing gave way to Sinatra’s swagger and jazz.

“Do you?” Bucky teased, frowning at the most recent items in your collection. As soon as Frank’s voice filled the silence, he nodded. “Yeah, that’s nice.”

“I do know him! Or did. Met ‘im in 1962.” You plopped next to Bucky, who was shaking his head. “What?”

“Show off.”

“No, just been around. Met people on the way. And, you asked.” Your smirk grew into a grin as Bucky mouthed your words back at you. Then his face fell for a second, and your amusement was quickly replaced by worry. “What is it?”

“Nothing, I guess – I guess I just missed a lot.” The same way one of the corners of his lips tug on his cheek again in his attempt of a smile, melancholy tugs at your heartstrings. “I missed out on everything. And I missed out on you.”

Bucky’s head was low as he spoke and you could see the tremble of his hands, even though he clutched one of your records tightly. Nina Simone, 1960’s.

“M’not going anywhere, you know.”

“You still lived an entire lifetime—”

“I did, yes, thank you for constantly reminding me that I’m over 100 years old.” You shook your head at him, sighing softly when he chuckled.

You couldn’t blame him, for clinging to every bit of past he’d missed while he was in HYDRA’s clutches – you knew that was inevitable, but you wished that such sorrow wasn’t so related to you.

“What are you doin’?” He asked as you summoned a small stool from the side of your shelf and stepped on it.

“I want to show you somethin’.” The thing you were looking for was stored at the very top: a heavy, brown leather suitcase that almost made you lose your balance when you pulled it from the spot it had been sitting in for—honestly, years, many of them.

The contents of the suitcase rattled as you climbed down and sat next to Bucky again. Sinatra still playing, telling his lover I've got you under my skin, I've got you, deep in the heart of me;

You almost laughed from the truth and irony of it.

I'd tried so, not to give in

I said to myself this affair never will go so well

You unlocked the suitcase, revealing the gathered memories inside. Pictures, movie tickets, theater playbooks, receipts, trinkets. All souvenirs of the 80 something years of your life Bucky hadn’t been there to see.

Not organized in the slightest, the keepsakes of your life were tossed together and out of order just as in your memory: photographs of you in uniform, and sometimes in party dresses; of when you bought your house; of the few times you had pets. Posing next to famous people and other important ones whose names weren’t as well known by the world.

As you and Bucky went through each of them, you added a story or an explanation, sometimes both, to fill him in on the details of your life events. He laughed at some, frowned at a lot, stared at you intently for all of them.

“Is this Berlin?”

You hummed, nodding. “1989. That party was great.”

“Party?” Bucky knitted his eyebrows in surprise.

“The city was unified, the wall was being taken down, and everyone was celebrating. I’ve never seen that many bottles of vodka in one place.” You laughed, taking a good look at yourself in the picture.

The 80’s were definitely not your best decade, looks wise. You had tried a perm the year before, and the poodle look was only then starting to dial down. The beginnings of a bruise were starting to creep on your left eye, from the mission you had completed just a few hours before.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been that drunk.”

Bucky’s surprise intensified, his eyes wide. “We can’t get drunk.”

“Yes we can.”

“No, no we can’t.”

“We can, in fact. It’s all a matter of quantity and, well, speed.” You giggled as Bucky’s mouth gaped more.

“And the hangover?”

“Horrible. Like getting shot on the forehead. Comes quickly, too.”

He grimaced, and with one last look – certainly to register your peculiar appearance on his mind – gently put the picture back inside the suitcase. A stack of papers seemed to call out to him and he picked it up, releasing them from the band that held them together carefully.

Postcards of the places you’ve been: a small note to James Barnes and Steve Rogers on the back of each one.

Bucky’s voice faltered. He let out an anguished little sound, probably something that was supposed to be an Oh, or a What, but had no strength to crawl up his throat.

You brought your knees to your chest as you waited for him.

“You—you wrote to us?”

“I did. You can keep those, they’re addressed to you.”

After all this time, you could barely remember the words you wrote in those postcards; all you knew was that some had longer messages, others a simple Wish you were here.

“After we met in Baltimore, I thought that— that you’d have moved on from us.”

From me.

As if that was possible.

“Well, I stopped writing by 2003, give or take. But really,” You sighed. “It’s hard to forget someone when you’ve always been expecting them to come back to you.”

Bucky flipped the postcard from Rome, read the writing and smiled wistfully at it. “And, I did.”

“You did. And staying away was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but—”

“But you’re annoyingly stubborn.” His jaw tightened, then relaxed when he smirked. “I mean, I get it – If the roles were reversed, I’d leave you rebuild your life without me like a self-sacrificing idiot too.”

Alright. That was fair.

Shaking your head, you watched as he slipped the postcards in his pocket, an amused expression on his face.

“That was… a big mistake. Something a self-sacrificing idiot would do,” You screwed your eyes shut in shame, opening them when Bucky chuckled. “but now, I’m right here. And so are you.”

His stubble scratched the soft skin of your palm when you reached for him, and you continued. “We’re a little out of place in this century, that much is true, but if I’m being honest… I’m getting tired of yearning for the past, Buck.”

Good old times – sometimes really good, sometimes bad, every one of them old – tucked away in your heart like your records were tucked in neatly in their shelf, organized by year. As you went through the decades, your enhanced body eternizing you like marble, your heart seemingly stayed at that army camp overseas. Or maybe Sergeant Bucky Barnes had taken it with him, only for them to be frozen together, leaving you with an empty hole in your chest.

You lived your life longing for that missing piece, the one with blue eyes and the dashing smile and the skilled feet.

The one that in many other stories was the one that got away, the one who now believed he was somebody else, but had brought your heart back with him all the same.

The very heart that nearly leapt out of your chest when Bucky rested his forehead against yours.

You’ve never been this close – there isn’t an ounce of past in the gesture. His eyes being tightly closed kept him from seeing the surprise on your eyes and then how they fell to his lips for a millisecond. Then, those lips brushed against yours in a featherlike touch.

I would sacrifice anything, come what might

For the sake of having you near

He pried himself off you when you exhaled, as if your very breath had electrocuted him.

“M’sorry. I—I didn’t—” He said as you stared at the back of his neck, and the shock gives way to disappointment.

I didn’t mean to. Or maybe: I didn’t want to.

“That’s—it’s okay.” You clapped your hands on your knees, still feeling the prickle of his facial hair on them, and got up to change the music.

There was no doubt Bucky was touch starved, and that he probably craved the closeness that comes with a lover. He sought that for a fleeting second in Sam’s sister, and now in you. No point in dwelling on what it might have meant.

Right?

Looking at Bucky, his expression was overcast, furrowed eyebrows as he watched you from his spot on the floor. You offered him a gentle smile, and the crease on his forehead eased up slightly.

Right.

Don't you know little fool, you never can win

The record player made a scratching sound as you replaced Frank Sinatra with your go-to jazz compilation. Instrumental.

No lyrics.

There was one thing you’ve always been good at, regarding the infatuation with Bucky Barnes that has taken over your heart for almost a century now: locking the feelings away and stepping into the shoes of the best friend.

Besides, you’ve said it yourself: no more yearning for the past. Hopefully you and Bucky would be able to do that soon enough.

At that moment, however, you needed to feel the burn of whiskey down your throat and pretend it’ll heal the calcinating rejection spreading through your chest.

The guilt you found in Bucky’s eyes as he watched you sweep around your hardwood floors made you pour a glass for him.

He took it gratefully, frowning when you bottomed the whole thing up.

“There’s a lot in here.” He tapped the edge of the suitcase, skillfully steering the conversation in the direction of the more palatable, calm territory it was in before.

The sight of your autobiographical collection made you smile.

“An entire lifetime,” You said, fishing your dog tags from the bottom. “I suppose that’s where it started. Or at least, where thisstarted.”

Bucky took them reverentially, running his thumb over the imprint of your name and numbers.

He reached for his neck, producing from under his Henley the same type of metal chain he was holding in his hands. The fact that he still wore his like that sent a sharp blow to your lungs, almost knocking the air out of you.

His face softened, a smile so beautiful spreading across his lips, so much that your chest clenched in protest because it was simply not fair, how he still had you entirely.

He deposited both of your dog tags in your hands, and that’s when you saw it, and remembered it.

“Won’t we get in trouble for this?”

“Do you care?”

“Well…No.” You sighed, already resigned. And a little excited.

Bucky knew you well: it had been too long of being a good little soldier when all you were used to was the rush of being a hellion.

“And that is why, sugar, that I’m doing this with you, and not with Steve.”

The words made your heart soar, but you were sure to recapture it before it could fly away too high, still too attached to the sensation of the take-off to clip its wings.

You liked flying.

“And because Steve hasn’t been successful in his enlisting efforts. Yet.”

Bucky looked at you from behind his eyebrows, a reprimand hiding in his eyes, but he decided to shove his uniform hat on your head instead. You grumbled, calling him a jerk under your breath.

It was the night before Bucky was drafted to England. He looked handsome in his uniform, a shining, polished star, brighter than the sun even under the dim streetlight you two stood under.

After bringing his and Steve’s dates home (yours was lost to another boxing match along the way – not that you were crying about that) Bucky had decided he was going to stay up all night, because, in his words, he could sleep when the war was over. Or, more realistically, in the ship on the way to England.

So there you two were, illuminated by street lamps and moonlight, visiting the façades and front windows of your favorite places in Brooklyn like drifters in the night.

Bucky still concentrated on his task, his shoulder hunched slightly to block your sight.

“Let me see! Bucky!”

“ ’Sposed to be a surprise! I’m almost done.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “It’s not like I haven’t seen ‘em before.”

“You gotta be more patient. Here.”

He dropped your dog tags on your hand. You displayed the small steel plates on your palm, scanning your eyes over the two. One of them, of course, had your name, number, blood type, next of kin – an aunt you’ve never met – and address.

The other had Bucky’s.

James B Barnes. 32557038.

He slipped his own chain over his head, the plate with your name clinking against his.

You brought the tips of your fingers to your lips, feeling a smile begin to form onto them.

“I forgot we did this. I haven’t looked at these in so long.”

You had stopped wearing your dog tags the day the war had ended – Bucky was gone then, Steve too, and the weight of his dog tags slamming against your chest was too much to bear – your heart was already heavy with its own engraving of their memories.

“Steve had a lecture prepared when he gave mine back.” Bucky chuckled when you looked up at him, incredulous.

You shook your head, half exasperated and half amused. “Good grief, Steve.”

“Y’know how he is. Was,” He trailed, lips twitching as they formed a thin line.

You reached for him, your hand hovering in the space between you for a second before Bucky took it, lacing your fingers. Scooting closer, you let your cheek rest on his shoulder.

“He’d be glad we’re reunited.” You said, raising your head to peek at him and the newfound upwards curl of his lip. “And mortified we’re still bickering.”

Bucky smiled and squeezed your hand. “Old people. Old habits.”

Laughter bubbled out of your chest, and you realized a few things.

In that moment, it didn’t matter – the heartache, the unrequited side of your love. It was just a fact, a fact of life, of your life, that you a lot of the times loved him as more than your best friend. You loved him. And that was the core of it, the most important fact.

And you knew he loved you – you had each other – in this big, ever-changing, modern world, you had Bucky and Bucky had you.

You sat in comfortable, familiar silence until your eyelids grew heavy and you felt yourself drifting in and out of consciousness.

“You dozin’ on me, sugar?”

“It’s been a long day.” You said with your eyes still closed, feeling him chuckle beside you.

“Tell me about it. I can go—”

“You know damn well you should stay.” You patted his arm and hoisted yourself up from the floor. “I’ll get the pull-up ready for you.”

As you sauntered towards the office, ignoring his pleads and protests that he’s got it, he doesn’t need sheets or anything, you put your dog tags back on.

They jingled lightly against your heart.

Maybe you didn’t have to leave all of the past behind to start building something good and new, after all.

[mandowh0re]

Remember Me

Chapter 2

Summary: While cleaning up the timelines that he broke, Loki meets and inevitably loses the one person that’s understood him in life. But he’s not losing you without a fight.

A/N: Another chapter within a week?? More likely than you think! Beta'd by the ever beautiful @edgyvege. Go show her some love!

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2303

Happy Reading!

Loki’s lying in his bed, clutching the book you had loaned him close to his chest.

He finished the book the first night of having it, and he regrets not pacing himself because he still has six days before he can see you again and isn’t sure how to keep himself sane until then. He doesn’t have much to his name anymore, having missed eleven years of his life and his home having been destroyed. So it’s not like he can turn to his favorite books or activities.

The Avengers had reluctantly agreed, mostly out of guilt because of Thor’s previous loss, to let Loki stay in the compound under the condition that he did not leave, did not use his magic unsupervised, and did not cause chaos. It had been an incredibly difficult adjustment, especially on his part, but he was willing to do whatever it took to see you again. So he did not complain even once.

When Loki had returned from timeline 656, the timeline in which he first met you, he was broken but determined. He was on a mission and refused to get distracted until his job was done. He had to find you again. He didn’t know what he was going to do if he didn’t.

So when Mobius agreed to bring Loki to this point of the timeline, he had given Loki the information to be able to find you.

You were his insurance, a way to make sure Loki stayed in his place.

So after two weeks of near perfect behavior and constant sulking from the trickster, Steve and Tony agreed that Loki could leave the compound, though only under Thor’s supervision.

When he first saw you again in that tiny bookstore, he felt like he had been hit in the chest by Thor’s hammer. He thought he was prepared to see you again. Your bright eyes and soft lips were all he could think about the past several months. But apparently, he wasn’t prepared in the slightest.

But you being you, you gave him a sweet smile and kindly helped him find the book you had told him about when the two of you had first met back in timeline 656. Because no matter the timeline, you were always one to help others.

And then you did something he wasn’t expecting. The possibility wasn’t even on his radar. You gave him your own copy to read, telling him it was so he had to come back and see you. He felt his chest constrict in that moment, yet at the same time a spark of hope exploded inside of him. It was something that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Then when you asked him for his name, his heart broke again.

He had forgotten to even give you his name, because he had already known yours. Your name, your scent, your favorite laugh, your body.

He knew it all.

Yet you knew nothing about him. And after telling you his name, he was afraid you’d remember what he’d done to your city all those years ago. That you’d be afraid of him and reject him, just like most everyone else in his life. He wouldn’t blame you. He believed himself a monster, just like everyone else did.

But he kept himself from spiraling into his dark thoughts with the sole knowledge that the version of you in timeline 656 wasn’t scared of him. Not even before he explained to you what had really happened.

No, you had accepted him, helped him, and eventually loved him.

He could only hope that this version of you could do the same.

***

The day you met Loki, you were a bit shell shocked.

He left almost immediately after telling you his name, and you watched as he met up with a much larger blonde man before walking away. It took your brain one too many seconds to realize the blonde was Thor, making Loki the actual Loki. The Loki that reigned chaos and destruction to your beloved city all those years ago.

A few pieces of information struck you throughout the day, startling you each time:

Number one; you had actually hit on a literal god. The God of Mischief, no less.

Number two; he actually flirted back! What the fuck?

Number three; he never asked for your name.

And number four; you weren’t scared of him. More than that, you weren’t even angry with him.

You couldn’t for the life of you figure out why. Why he didn’t intimidate you. Why you felt as if you understood him. Or why you felt like you knew him, more intimately than just having heard of him. You had only spoken to the man once, for crying out loud.

The week passes by incredibly slowly, and every time you think about your interaction or of seeing Loki again, butterflies come to life in your belly and a smile slowly comes across your face.

But today is finally the day.

It’s a quarter past eleven when the door to the shop opens, the small wind chime signaling someone had entered. You look up from your current read and see Loki taking a few short steps to the counter. He’s dressed to the nines again, wearing a dark grey suit with minimal green accents.

He looks positively delicious, and you curse yourself for letting that thought slip. You slide your bookmark into your novel before setting it on a small shelf behind you.

“Hey! You came back!” You say, your voice a few pitches higher than usual. You really weren’t expecting him to actually return the book himself. In fact, you weren’t sure what you expected at all.

He nods, “Of course, darling. I wanted to see you again,” his voice is deep and his eyes are trained on yours, “And discuss the book, obviously,” He lifts the loved copy in his hand, held between his nimble fingers.

Warmth blooms in your chest and you smile shyly. Your eyes flicker to the window where you saw Thor waiting last week.

“Where’s your chaperone?”

Loki raises a brow, glancing to the window next to him.

“I saw Thor meet you when you left last week.”

Realization dawns on Loki’s face, “Ah, yes. I must be accompanied by my brother at all times outside of the Avengers Compound. It is a term of my arrangement.”

“Arrangement?” You ask, cocking your head slightly.

For a moment, Loki falters. He’s said too much, explaining his situation could cause more questions to arise, and he did not need that right now. Because how in the nine realms would he answer them?

So instead of answering, he sets the book on the counter in between the two of you and smiles, “Nothing for you to concern yourself, dear. I would much rather talk about the blatant misinformation contained in this book.”

His tone is light and playful, so you laugh and pull the book closer to you, “Misinformation? You mean to tell me that you didn’t give birth to a horse?”

Loki rolls his eyes, “Gods, no! I did no such thing. Nor am I the father of Fenrir, Jormungandr, or Hela.” He makes a disgusted face.

“That’s a shame,” You fake pout, “You just ruined my favorite book for me.”

He scoffs, “Darling, I am the living, breathing version of the character in your book. How could a novel be more interesting than the real deal?”

You look at him, a mischievous glint in your eye, and Loki feels his heart jump in his throat. He’s seen that look before. The way your nose crinkles just slightly, causing your eyebrows to scrunch, barely noticeable. There’s a sparkle in your eye, one that tells Loki every time that you’re up to no good.

It was one of the many reasons he fell so hard for you.

“You’re very handsome, I’ll give you that. But I just think Book Loki has more layers. Ya know?”

Normally, if you had made a comment like that, Loki would have pinned you against a wall and put you in your place.

But that was another time. One that Loki desperately hoped would come to him once more.

“Well, I think that if you come to know me better, you shall see I am much more… Complex than you humans have made me out to be.” His voice has lowered a few tones, sweet and smooth like honey.

He’s closer now, leaning over with his forearms on the counter, and you feel a warmth spread across your belly. You curse yourself and discreetly press your thighs together.

But unbeknownst to you, Loki knew every single one of your mannerisms, quirks, and habits. And by default, he saw the little movement you made, and had to use his glamour to hide the way his body reacted.

Conversation flowed from there, banter flying back and forth, your quick wit almost matching his.

It somehow felt normal to you. Comfortable. It was bizarre and pleasant at the same time.

But for Loki, it was just a painful reminder of what he lost so many months ago.

Before he knew it, there was a single knock against the front window, signaling that his time was up. The both of you glanced up to see Thor, dressed in jeans and a casual cotton jacket, peeking inside.

Loki sighs, “While I wish I could stay longer and chat, I fear I must take my leave.” He stands from the chair you had pulled up next to you and straightens his jacket.

Your heart drops slightly, not wanting him to leave, and you stand with him.

“Well, how about I give you another book to read?”

“I was already planning on coming back,” He smirks, tilting slightly downward, “But I shan’t turn down a chance to read a book.”

“Good, because I love this one too.” You tell him, grabbing the book from your stash. You rip a piece of receipt paper from the small printer and quickly scribble on it, then tuck it into the front cover.

“And my name is Y/N, by the way. I didn’t get a chance to tell you last week.”

Loki smiles and takes the book from you, walking towards the door.

“Well, Y/N, it has been a pleasure. I shall see you again next week.”

***

“Brother, I see you have another book.” Thor says as he moves to walk alongside Loki, who was already reading the book summary.

Loki only makes a hum of acknowledgment, but doesn’t say anything.

They walk in silence towards the secluded alley where Loki can transport them back to the compound without curious eyes.

The silence is comfortable, yet eerie. Thor is still recovering from the shock of having Loki back, though it wasn’t the same Loki he lost on that forsaken ship.

And Loki… He’s just trying to wrap his head around everything that has happened. Everything he missed because he jumped from 2012 to 2021. He didn’t get to say goodbye to Frigga. He didn’t get to have a last look at Asgard. And now the one woman Loki is sure he cannot live without, doesn’t remember him.

They get back to the compound without incident, and Loki heads back to his room like he always does, choosing to interact with the Avengers as little as possible, lest there be a fight.

He tilts his head up slightly, eyes screwed shut and fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, “Friday, is it? Where is the spider child?”

“Peter is in the penthouse. Would you like me to relay a message to him?”

Loki bites his lip. Is he really going to do this?

Yes, he supposes he is.

“Can you ask him to come to my quarters?”

“Of course.”

Loki paces, waiting for Peter. After several minutes, there’s a tentative knock at the door.

“Come in.”

It opens slowly, revealing a confused Peter.

“Hey, Friday said you asked for me?”

“Yes.” Loki nods, then hands the boy a small piece of paper.

The same paper you put into the book earlier in the day.

Peter, now fully in the room, takes the paper and shoots a curious glance at Loki, before reading.

~

I don’t know if you have a cell phone, or even know what one is.

But if you do, feel free to text or call me :)

555-555-5555

-Y/N

~

“If you tell anyone about this, I shall have your head.” Loki hisses, but there’s no heat behind it. Peter is one of the few humans Loki cares about dearly. The little shit had somehow managed to weasel his way into Loki’s notoriously cold heart within the first week.

And Peter knew this.

“Yeah, yeah,” He smirks, “Why are you showing it to me in the first place?”

“While I know what a cell phone is, I am unsure about how to acquire one. That is where you come in.”

Peter’s eyes light up, “Oh, this is going to be so much fun!”

Loki crosses his arms, fearing he may come to regret this.

***

“What do you want?”

“It’s been a while. Nice hearing your voice.”

“The feeling isn’t mutual.”

“Ouch.”

“Answer my question.”

“I want you to join us, of course. Thought that was clear by now.”

“Fuck off.”

“Well, figured I’d try... Anyways, I received word that Loki is back on Earth.”

“Not sure why you think I care, or how this concerns me.”

“I would like for you to bring him in.”

“I don’t work for you. Use your own goons.”

“He’s protected by Thor, and the Avengers by default. But you could easily-”

“Like I said. I don’t work for you. Why don’t you try intimidating one of your other experiments?”

“Star-”

“That’s not my name. Goodbye.”

***

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[hiiraya]

i like you (more than i thought i would) (rewrite)

masterlist

pairing: robin buckley x reader

words: ~2,101

warnings: mostly fluff and being a gay mess

requested: nope :p

a/n: we've reached 200 of you wonderful people following this blog!! thanks for taking time out of your days to read the mess i post ♡

“If you think I'm believing a single thing you just said to me, you're out of your mind.”

She said, shaking her head at the taller boy as she wiped the counter.

"I'm telling the truth!” He persisted, glancing around the room before leaning closer to her to whisper, "you know, she's gay too."

She only rolled her eyes in response, turning away from him to start sorting the returned vcr's that had come in.

It hadn’t been the first time Steve had tried to play a prank on her, and she was smart enough to know when she was being played with.

"Yeah, okay, dingus."

He huffs when she dismisses him again, throwing an old receipt that was laying around on the counter at her, sticking his tongue out like a child.

"Believe it or not, Buckley, it's true. My sister - my twin sister - is coming to have lunch with me today."

"I guess I'll believe it when I see it."

-

Even though she told him that she didn't believe him earlier that morning that he had a sister (a twin sister to be more exact), Robin had been on the lookout for the other Harrington sibling.

If she even did exist.  

Imagining a more feminine version of Steve, she had to wonder if you two shared the same personality. If you were just as confident and outspoken as your counterpart, or if you were the complete opposite.

She didn't really know what to expect, but when the time finally came and you walked through the door, all expectations Robin had flown out the window.

While Steve's style was more casual with his plain t-shirts, light-washed denim jeans and thin bomber jacket (Robin swore she'd never seen him wear any other jacket) - you on the other hand, were the complete opposite of your brother.

There you were, wearing a black t-shirt with some rock band that Robin had never heard of before, paired with black jeans that were ripped at the knees. The worn leather jacket around your shoulders making you look so out of place, yet the air of confidence you had around you made it feel like you owned the place.

The similarities were there, it wasn't hard to see that you two were clearly siblings, but that didn't stop Robin from glancing back and forth between the two of you.

“You ready for lunch, Steve?” You questioned, pushing the sunglasses currently resting on your nose up to your hair as you walked to the counter where Steve and Robin currently were. ”I’m not waiting all day for you."

Your older brother tutted and shook his head, and Robin could only stand there in shock because no way were you two related.

Absolutely no way.

"I'm still older than you, Y/N/N," He chided you playfully, before turning to face her. "By the way, this is the Robin I was telling you about.”

You turned your gaze to her direction and nodded your head in acknowledgement of Robin’s presence. She said nothing as you rested your forearms on the counter, the action alone making her cheeks heat up because how can one sibling be so smooth and the other so hopeless?

Also, Steve had told you about her?

“First of all, you’re only older by 20 minutes,” You retorted, narrowing your eyes facetiously at your older brother.

"And secondly," You begin, turning your attention back to Robin (who at this point was still standing there with her jaw lax at the interactions between the two of you). "It's nice to meet you."

If you were shocked by Robin suddenly grabbing Steve by the arm and saying yeah, wow, okay, Steve can I talk to you for a second? you didn't show it, allowing your brother to be dragged away to what you assumed was the back room.

"That's your sister?"

Steve had the audacity to look smug, and if it wasn't for her having a mental panic she would've punched him in the arm to get rid of the smirk on his face.

"I told you she was real."

She could only huff in retaliation. He was right. He did tell her that you were real, but he forgot to mention just how much of a character you were.

Besides, wouldn't it be a little weird to be attracted to her co-worker/friend’s younger sister?

"Fine, she is real, but you didn't tell me she was--"

"The complete opposite of me?" The taller boy teased, thoroughly enjoying watching this flustered side of Robin come to light. "Wouldn’t have guessed that bad girls were your type, Robin."

If Robin wasn’t red before, she definitely was now.

"It’s not my fault your sister is hotter and has more game than you do, Harrington.”

-

Robin followed Steve back out to the front, still obviously flustered that Steve had easily called her out on her visible attraction towards you.

Unknowingly to her, the taller boy already had something planned up his sleeves.

“I’m ready to go for lunch, but I just have one question for you, Y/N/N," He says, clapping his hands together as he approached you.

"Are you free on Saturday?”

Robin watches you look up from where you had been sitting, eyebrows furrowing in question.

“Yeah, I guess? I’m going to be in town for a little while. Why?”

Instead of answering your question, Steve nodded before facing her, that annoying, knowing smirk back on his face.

"What about you, Robin?"

“Yeah?"

The two of you could only watch as Steve grinned, the expression on his face only making you more confused while Robin felt the heat in her cheeks rise once again as he made eye contact with her.

"Perfect! Unfortunately, I have a shift on Saturday, but you two have fun on your date.”

“Date?”

“Date?”

She expected you to refuse, after all, who accepts to go on a date with someone you've never met before?

She expected you to roll your eyes and berate your brother, Robin already imagining how you would tell Steve to stop playing around, I came here so we could get food.

Honestly, she expected you to do anything other than say yes.

But when you only shrug your shoulders, and turn to face Robin, you surprise both her and your brother by tilting your head to the side and smiling.

“I've never turned down a date with a pretty girl," You say, with a grin that could rival the sun (but Robin thinks she's a little biased when she thinks that). "What do you say, Robin?”

She looked at Steve (who merely winked at her, and she knows that he's deliberately playing match maker) before back to you.

It didn’t help that you weren’t bad to look at, scratch that, Robin knew she was attracted to you the moment you walked into the store.

One date couldn’t hurt right?

"I guess it's a date.”

-

I'm going to kill Steve.

She doesn't normally wake up with murder on her mind, but the fact that your date was only a few hours away, she couldn't help but blame the nerves on the person who had set up the whole thing.

As much as she wanted to call you throughout the week and cancel the date, very much regretting the fact that she agreed to this date without a second thought, she knew that Steve would talk her ear off about how she ditched his sister and frankly, she’d rather just get the date over and done with if it meant he would shut up.

So when you showed up at her door at exactly 6 o'clock and not a minute late, just like you told her, Robin tried to ignore the nerves that had been present ever since she woke up that morning.

“Hop on.” You told her while holding out a black helmet. You were still wearing that worn leather jacket (what was it about the Harrington's and never owning any other jacket?) that made her speechless the first time she saw you.

“You want me to get on that?”

She watched you glance down at the 1982 Triumph motorbike that you were currently straddling, before looking back at her with a raised brow.

“Yes? Come on, I’m won’t let anything happen to you.” You say, gesturing to the helmet again while you gave her a comforting smile.

You only smiled wider when she took a step further, helping her put the helmet on and securing it on her head. Robin hoped that you couldn't see the way her cheeks had heated up when your fingers brushed against the underside of her chin, but the way you were still watching her with an admiring smile on your features.

“I’m holding you to your word, Harrington.” She mumbled, taking your offered hand to help her get on the seat.

“Just keep your arms around me, and we’ll be there before you know it.” She heard you say while you position her arms around your waist.

She couldn't help but lean into you when you situated her arms around you, the closeness of your bodies making her heart race a little. For someone who looked so intimidating on the outside, the more she was around you the more she could see that it was just a façade.

-

"You cold, Buckley?”

She watches you secure your bike and put the helmets away, all while having a smirk on your face. If she ever doubted you and Steve were siblings before, the smirk definitely said it all.

The sun had gone down by the time you arrived, and it didn’t help that the wind whipping past while you were driving made it feel like Robin had just walked into a freezer.

"Shut up."

You let out a small laugh, but nevertheless you shrug off your jacket. Taking a few steps to stand by her side, draping the heavy fabric over her shoulders.

“There, now you won’t get cold.”

Robin swore she’d blushed more around you in the thirty minutes she'd spent with you than she had in her whole life.

She felt her pinkie brush against yours, and before she could think about whether or not you would think it was too forward of her if she were to hold your hand, you had already laced your fingers with hers, the warm of your palm tethering her to the moment.

“Rides first then food? That way we don’t throw up anything we eat.”

All she could do was nod and let you lead the way.

-

Maybe it was because you were Steve’s sister, or that she barely knew you that Robin doesn't want to admit just how much she doesn't want the day with you to end.

Maybe.

The blush that stained Robin’s cheeks from the moment you helped her put the helmet on refused to go away even after hours had passed since then.

As much as she tried to deny it, she loved being pampered by you during your time together.

The whole night you were there by her side. With you hand in hers, or on her side, or on her arm, you made sure that she knew that you were by her side the whole time.

For all your tough guise you liked to show, you sure weren't afraid of looking like a complete fool trying to win her a big bear in one of those impossible basketball games where the hoop is too small for the ball to fit in.

She liked you.

More than she'd liked to admit.

But she had to remind herself that you weren’t staying for long. That no matter how much fun she had with you, you wouldn’t be in Hawkins forever.

"Are you staying in Hawkins for long, Y/n?”

With her hand still in yours, she tightened her grip just a little while she met your eyes.

If you could hear the reluctance in her voice you didn’t show it, only squeezing her hand back in return.

"I wasn't planning on staying for long," You admit.

“I’ve never really been one to stay in one place for too  long but something's telling me that maybe I should."

She could practically hear Steve already teasing her for being ‘lovesick’ for his sister, but with the way you were looking at her now - with such warmth, like whatever was budding between you two was something that you wanted to last.

"You should."

If the smile you gave her, told her anything, it was that she wanted this to last too.

[honeypiehotchner]

i knew you (Bucky Barnes soulmate AU) -- part six

I keep forgetting to post this story OOPS

Warnings: panic, general self-deprecating thoughts, unrequited love thoughts, maybe slightly ooc!Tony, I think that’s all

Sam, Steve, and who you learn to be T’Challa, now King of Wakanda after his father died in the bombing at Vienna -- which makes his obsession with clawing Bucky’s eyes out make much more sense -- are shoved in a vehicle alongside you.

You have no idea what they did with Bucky -- other than he’s still alive -- and you have no fucking clue where you’re going, but the ride is long. Too long to be in a car with Sam and Steve, especially with Sam trying every second he can to get on T’Challa’s nerves.

“So you like cats?”

“Shut up, Sam, please, for once in your life,” you groan from your spot next to him.

Even Steve gives him a look.

“What? Dude shows up dressed like a cat and you don’t wanna know more?” Sam asks.

“Your suit…” Steve narrows his eyes. “It’s vibranium?”

“What is that?”

You don’t get an answer.

“The Black Panther has been the protector of Wakanda for generations. A mantle, passed from warrior to warrior. And now, because your friend murdered my father, I also wear the mantle of King. So, I ask you, as both King and warrior,” T’Challa pauses. “How long do you think you can keep your friend safe from me?”

The silence is deafening.

“It wasn’t him,” you blurt, earning yourself a glare. “Laugh at me all you want, but it wasn’t Bucky that killed your father. Don’t get revenge on the wrong man.”

T’Challa turns to face forward, refusing to say another word.

You do the same, instead focusing on what Bucky is feeling. You wonder if he can feel just how pissed off and panicked you are. You’re pissed, of course, because all of this fighting wasn’t necessary. You jumped off buildings for that man, and he still insists that he doesn’t know you.

Maybe you’d be able to write it off as a dreadful miscommunication for the past decade of your life, but you can’t. Not when you can physically feel that he is lying. The tightness in his chest doesn’t lie. Neither do his eyes.

But God, you wish they could.

You turn your head to hide your quivering lip. The last thing you need is to break into a sobbing mess in the back of this vehicle with three men surrounding you — especially when one of them was just trying to kill the same soulmate you’re upset over.

You know it’s not true, but part of you does wish Bucky was dead.

It was a lot easier on you to fantasize and dream about him when you thought he was dead.

+++

The government facility in Berlin looks far more secure than anything you’ve ever seen. Having guards posted all around when the four of you step out of the vehicle almost seems like overkill. They already took your weapons, what are they expecting any of you to do?

You glance over your shoulder to see Bucky in a small container. Your heart breaks at the sight of him, being restrained and in such a tight space. But the fact that he won’t even look your way breaks your heart even more.

“What’s gonna happen to him?” Steve asks, having the courage to voice what you want to know.

“Same thing that ought to happen to you,” the man replies. He’s short and wears a gray suit. It’s hard for you to take him seriously as an authority figure when it looks like his pants need to be hemmed. “Psychological evaluation and extradition.”

You cross your arms over your chest, keeping your mouth shut. Sharon stands next to the man, but at least she looks like she’s on your side — or Steve’s, since she obviously has a thing for him.

“This is Everett Ross, Deputy Task Force Commander—” Sharon begins introducing him, but you stop her.

“A guy too big to introduce himself?” You raise an eyebrow. “Wow.”

Everett barely smiles, but it isn’t friendly. “Yeah, uh, who the hell are you?” It’s taunting, but you’re too exhausted to give in.

“No one,” you wave your hand, letting Steve keep going.

“What about a lawyer?”

Everett finds that about as amusing as your sentence. “A lawyer, that’s funny.” He turns to address Sharon. “See that their weapons are placed in lockup.” Then turning to the four of you, he says, “We’ll write you a receipt.”

As if on cue, men pass by holding Steve’s shield and uniform, Sam’s wings, and your gun and bullet proof vest. You had almost gotten away with the vest, but once they felt it, they wanted it off -- probably afraid it had some explosive inside it. So, now you’re without your protection, and you miss the weight of the vest. Something about it soothed the ache inside you.

Sam looks ready to burst at the seams. “I better not look out the window and see anybody flying around in that.”

You’re ushered forward by some guards and you go without resisting. You see Steve take one more look at Bucky, but you don’t bother. No sense in looking at someone who doesn’t want to see you, anyway.

Everett walks ahead, leading the way across a glass bridge to the other side of the facility. “You’ll be provided with an office, instead of a cell.”

“How kind,” you snort.

He ignores your comment. “Do me a favor: stay in it.”

You roll your eyes. What does he expect you guys to do? Start a fight when the ratio of unarmed super-soldier to heavily armed guards is about 1 to 1,000 in here?

Natasha joins the group, giving you a particularly cold stare before talking to Steve. “For the record, this is what making things worse looks like.”

You manage a chuckle. She has a point, after all.

“He’s alive,” Steve says matter-of-factly.

Yeah, you think. A lot of good that’s doing to everyone.

By the time you reach the other side of the bridge, you’re ready to ask T’Challa to claw your eyes out instead. You won’t even put up a fight. You’re just tired of holding these tears back and feeling this burning pressure in your chest. You don’t know if it’s yours or Bucky’s emotions at this point, all you know is that you want to be left alone.  

The weight of it all is crushing down on you now that there aren’t guns firing at you.

He doesn’t want you.

Your soulmate doesn’t want you.

Fuck.

You wipe a stray tear away, spotting Tony Stark up ahead. Tony seeing you cry is not something you ever want to happen, so you chew on the inside of your cheek instead, hoping you can slip past him quick enough that he won’t notice.

But, of course, that’s too much to ask for when you’ve got Sam and Steve next to you. And when the three of you are now criminals.

“Colonel Rhodes is supervising clean up,” Tony says to someone on the phone. But, because he’s Tony, he has to glare at the three of you while he says it. “Consequences? You bet there’ll be consequences. Obviously you can quote me on that because I just said it, anything else? Thank you sir.”

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. Here we go.

“Consequences?” Steve inquires, very obviously not giving a damn from the sounds of his tone.

“Secretary Ross wants you prosecuted,” Tony pauses, looking pointedly at you. “All of you.”

You glare at him. “I wasn’t expecting to be an exception, if that’s what you were thinking.”

“That’s not what I was thinking,” Tony replies, always having to have the upper hand. “What I was thinking, is that when I paid for you to have top of the line combat training, I didn’t mean for you to use it on something like this.”

“For God’s sake,” you mutter under your breath, ignoring Steve and Sam’s bewildered stares. You should’ve known he’d use this moment to blast your secret to everyone.

Your training is something you kept under wraps because naturally, if someone knows you’re going to be a challenge, they normally take it. You wanted to be as off the grid and as normal appearing as you could, so you quietly trained while loudly posting about your degree and only your degree. No pictures with Sam or Steve in them when they’d come to visit. Just you or your best friend, nothing more. You wanted to appear as though you were staying out of the way of any and all affairs that could deal with The Winter Soldier. You knew you’d be left alone if you acted as if you didn’t care. You even went on random dates and posted about them. You slipped under everyone’s radar just like you wanted.

“I’m not doing this right now,” you push past Tony in search of an empty office.

“No, I think we are doing this now,” Tony pulls you back by your arm, which you wrench out of his grip immediately. “I paid for those classes so you could defend yourself, and now you’re a criminal. How do you think that makes me look?”

“I don’t know. Grab a goddamn mirror. It’ll tell you.”

Your sarcasm only fuels his anger. “Listen to me—”

“No, okay?” Your voice cracks and you hate it. You hate the way Steve has been looking at you, like you’re about to break into a million pieces right on the floor in front of everyone. You hate that Tony thinks he can just lecture you about something he has no fucking clue about how it feels. You hate that Bucky doesn’t want you and you hate that he’s in a tiny box right now and that if you never would’ve met Steve two years ago then you wouldn’t be hurting like this right now.

Tony stares quietly at you, waiting for you to finish.

So, with as much strength as you can gather, you finish. “I’ve just jumped off buildings and almost taken bullets for my soulmate who does not even want me.” You pause to let it sink in. “So, if you don’t mind, I’d really love to go cry my eyes out for thirty minutes. You can lecture me after.”

Tony’s face falls and pales a little even, but you’re too exhausted to notice.

By some stroke of bad luck, Everett Ross happens to overhear your words. His dumbfounded expression comes into view and it takes all of your leftover energy to not deck him right in the jaw.

“Did I just hear you say that you’re his soulmate?”

“No,” you snap. “Because he doesn’t know me and doesn’t want to talk to me. So, sorry, you won’t get to weaponize me today. Now, do you have an office I can cry in? Or do I need to go find it myself?”

Stunned, Everett flounders for a response. “Uh, you can just pick an empty one.”

“Great,” you swallow around the lump in your throat, keeping your eyes on the ground as you finally escape from everyone around you.

The office is glass, so it isn’t like you’re getting much privacy at all, but it’s enough. You take the farthest one, turning to face the wall so no one else has to see your pathetic tears as they stream down your face.

Saying it out loud made it real.

Bucky doesn’t want you. He doesn’t know you. He doesn’t care what you feel. He doesn’t care that you’re his soulmate. He doesn’t want any part of any of it.

Your chest feels like it might rip itself open just for your heart to escape, and part of you wishes it could. You wish you could be without your heart and this soulmate business just for one day.

All those years. Thinking he’d want you.

The past two years. Rehearsing how to talk to him. How to make it work because you weren’t foolish enough to think it’d be easy. You knew it would be hard, that he’d be troubled with his own issues. But you never thought about the possibility of him straight-up rejecting you.

All of it. For nothing. For a soulmate who insists he doesn’t know you.

You try to muffle your choked sob as best you can, but you fail, the noise only causing more tears to fall. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He was brainwashed by HYDRA and you were stupid enough to hope that he’d want you in his life, that he’d remember you.

Maybe he doesn’t remember you. Maybe when they did something to his mind, it erased all of you.

But he remembers Steve, you remind yourself, and the hurt takes over once more.

You turn and press your back to the glass, shutting your eyes so you won’t see if anyone is watching you. You know how absurd you must look. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t want you. What does any of it matter anymore?

You slide down to the floor, burying your face in your knees. God, it hurts. It hurts and it hurts and it hurts and you want it to stop. You wish you never went to that damn exhibit with your best friend. You wish you never knew about Bucky. Living in blissful ignorance was painful, but at least you had peace alongside the pain.

At least that image of your soulmate wanted you.

+++

Back outside, Everett watches your shaking form with a newfound worry. “Is she gonna be okay?”

“I don’t know.” Tony hangs his head. “Do you need me for anything?”

Everett glances at his watch. “No, actually I’ve got things to get to.” He disappears without another word.

Tony thinks it over, wondering if he should even go check on you. You’re like a daughter to him, though he’ll never admit that to you, and you’d never suspect it. The two of you hardly speak. You were surprised when he reached out about your protection. Steve had apparently mentioned you, and Tony being Tony, knew he had the money to make you feel safe.

And he did. The classes helped. Keeping everything about you, except what you wanted people to see -- that you were an Honors student, a well-supported, intelligent young woman -- a secret helped.

The two of you bicker. You argued when you first met. Tony wanted to pay for extra security, personal security that would follow you around. He wanted to move you from the college apartments to some fancier complex where he could control the security protocols. You turned him down, asked about classes. He compromised. But not without some off-handed, pissed-off remark, that you promptly replied to with, “Fuck off.”

You’re strong, he’ll give you that. Anyone else would’ve denied their feelings, sworn they weren’t the soulmate of the fist of HYDRA. But you embraced it. You knew you couldn’t change it. You knew you would get Bucky back one day -- your Bucky.

But you never would’ve guessed that he would’ve reacted this way. Shielding you from bullets while insisting that he has no idea who the hell you are.

His insistence is what hurt you the most. You had thought when you confessed that you can feel when he’s lying, he would’ve given in. That maybe he needed a confirmation, a reason to believe it was really you, because anyone can lie. Technology -- Stark’s, at least -- has advanced, anyone can look like whoever they want. You thought Bucky needed proof. But that wasn’t it.

He just didn’t care.

Tony watches as you turn around, pressing your back to the glass. Your eyes are closed, face wet with tears and hand pressed over your mouth. You slide to the floor, and that’s the last straw.

You look up when you hear Tony knocking on the glass.

Once you see it’s him, though, you put your head back in your hands. “I said thirty minutes,” you mumble. “I know damn well it’s only been ten.”

“Just shut up and come here.”

You look up again, your expression pained as if he just slapped you. Tony frowns. He’s making it worse when he wants to make it better.

“What do you want?” You ask tiredly, rubbing both hands on your face to wipe the rest of the tears away. You sniffle loudly, grimacing at the noise. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, just come here.”

“What do you want?”

“To give you a damn hug,” Tony mutters, invading your personal space by sitting next to you on the floor.

You accept his hug, but only for a few seconds. That’s all you can take.

“Sorry,” you murmur, shrugging him off and scooting a foot away. “Anything that touches me makes me want to punch. I don’t know if it’s him feeling that, or me, but…” You sigh. “Regardless I’d just like for this to be over.”

“You and me both, kiddo,” Tony exhales, leaning his head back against the glass. “Why did you go with Cap and Sam?”

You shrug. “If it was Pepper...wouldn’t you?”

“Pepper wasn’t brainwashed by HYDRA,” Tony says. “And Pepper didn’t assassinate dozens of people.”

“But if she had, if it was Pepper in that box right now, wouldn’t you have done anything? Even if you knew it was a losing battle?”

Tony stays quiet, thinking. “Yeah.” He nods slowly. “I would.” Then he lets out a dry laugh. “I don’t think she’d put me in that position -- I think it’s more likely the other way around.”

You look over at him, frowning.

He sees you looking and sighs, closing his eyes. “We’re taking a break.”

That explains it. “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. “It’s fine. In her defense, I’m a handful.” Typical Tony. Deflecting his real feelings with humor. “Anyway, I’m sorry, too. Earlier. I shouldn’t have spilled your secrets like that.”

You shrug. “It’s whatever. It’s out there now. I’m sure Everett is thinking of every way he can to somehow get through to Bucky through me.” The mention of your soulmate has tears jumping back into your eyes.

Then a wave of panic rushes over you.

Your eyes shoot open and you scramble to your feet, moving to the farthest corner of the office to get a good look at the screens. Without audio, you can’t tell much, but that doesn’t make it any better.

“What wrong?” Tony asks, joining you.

“He’s panicked,” you murmur. “Where’s Steve?”

Tony doesn’t have time to answer you before you’re practically running out of the office to find Steve. You find him with Sam and Sharon in another office.

“Steve--” You stop when you hear the audio. It’s Bucky’s voice.

“Where’s Y/N?” He says. You look at the screen, thinking your ears have deceived you, but he says it again. “Y/N, I need to talk to her.”

“What’s going on?” Steve asks, noticing the look on your face.

“Something’s wrong,” you say, shaking your head. “I don’t know what. But he’s panicking. Or maybe it’s me. Something’s wrong.”

About that time, the power goes out.

Literally. Everywhere. Emergency lights coat the room in a soft blue glow, the red of the exits the only other light working in the place.

“Fuck!” You smack the table, looking to Sharon. “Where is he?”

“Sub-level five, East wing,” she answers quickly.

You don’t look to Sam or Steve, you just start running.

The slapping of footsteps behind you is the only indication you have that they’re following you. Tears spring to your eyes as another wave of panic comes over you, nearly choking you this time. Something bad. It’s something bad.

Anger comes next, burning in your chest. What the hell is happening? That psychiatrist -- what’s he doing to your Bucky?

Then you feel it.

It spreads throughout your whole body. The old feeling you had once forgotten. Two years is long enough to get used to Bucky and forget all about The Winter Soldier, but not long enough to not recognize it when it returns.

You push forward, running as fast as you can. You slow once you’re at the correct sub-level, waiting for Sam and Steve. You hold your hands up when they come into view.

Steve comes skidding to a stop. “What?”

“He’s not Bucky right now,” you say quietly, despite the thrumming in your ears. “He’s the Soldier. We have to be careful. I don’t know what happened, but I felt it.”

“Shit,” Steve cusses. “Okay.”

Back on track, the first sign that the Soldier is here is all of the guards lying unconscious on the floor. Inside the room, the psychiatrist sent to evaluate Bucky -- though you’re suspecting he isn’t the psychiatrist -- lies in the middle of the floor, barely conscious.

Steve walks in and drags the man up off of the floor, pinning him to the wall.

You’re right. He’s not who he says he is.

While Steve is handling him, you and Steve step up to the doorway, but you pause, pressing your arm to Sam’s chest.

Shit. He’s in there.

Sam either doesn’t catch your signal or doesn’t want you walking in by yourself, because he ignores you and steps into the room. Regardless, it earns him a punch to the face that he barely dodges.

“Bucky!” You scream, pushing Sam out of the way before Bucky’s metal fist can smash his head in. “Bucky, stop!”

But he doesn’t. He keeps going after Sam, and only stops once he has thrown Sam halfway across the room into the box he was kept in. Sam falls limply to the floor, unconscious.

“Bucky, look at me,” you plead, tears pushing to the front of your eyes, but you blink them away. “You have to come out of this!”

Bucky pushes past you, going after Steve this time. Well, you think. First, he knocks the psychiatrist out cold, but you don’t mind that. What you do mind is when Bucky focuses back on Steve, choking him up against the wall.

You try to pull on his arm, but you know it’s useless. He holds you back, keeping you away from him, but still not hurting you.

You think. Quick. What would help? Why isn’t he hurting you? He’s capable of handling more than one person, and you’re obviously provoking him in some way right now as you claw at his back. But still, he isn’t hurting you. Why?

A long shot of an idea pops into your head.

“Soldier!” You raise your voice, straightening your shoulders, hoping it’ll give you the look of an authority figure. “Soldier. I said stop.”

Steve hits the ground with a thud, coughing loudly.

“Soldier,” you repeat, keeping your voice even. “Look at me.” Slowly, Bucky turns around. He’s still the Soldier, but at least he isn’t trying to kill Steve. “What are your orders?”

“You give them.”

You blink. “What?”

“Orders are to protect you,” the Soldier says. “Keep you safe.”

Your breath hitches. You push away your emotions, thinking instead how you can use his orders to your advantage right now. You don’t exactly like using him this way, but you don’t have any other option when he’s a highly trained and chemically enhanced assassin.

“Steve is a friend.” You pause, nodding to Sam who is slowly coming back to consciousness on the ground. “So is Sam. Do not hurt them. Understand?”

Firmly, Bucky nods.

You look over your shoulder at Steve. “We’ve gotta get him out of here,” you say. “They’ll kill him if they find him like this.” Regardless of the fact that he’s listening to you.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, voice hoarse. He goes over to Sam, pulling him off the ground. He’s disoriented, but awake. “Come on. We gotta go.”

“Okay, Soldier,” you almost wince, hating talking to him like this. “Get us out of here. Can you do that?”

Again, he nods. His flesh arm wraps protectively around your waist, practically picking you up as he begins to walk.

You try your hardest to ignore the effect it has on your body, but you can’t help it. The combination of his strength and this being the most intimate way that he has touched you yet leaves you breaking out in a cold sweat.

“Wait,” you pause, and Bucky stops. “I’ll hold onto your arm,” you say, slipping his arm from around your waist. You grip his bicep, your other hand sliding into his. You hate to be doing this because you know once Bucky remembers, he’ll probably hate you even more for it. But right now, the Soldier won’t walk two inches without some sort of grip on you. “Is this better?”

The Soldier’s bicep flexes underneath your fingers. You swallow thickly. Maybe this was worse.

“As long as you’re safe,” is all he says, before continuing on.

You look back over your shoulder to find Steve watching with a sad smile.

You shove down the swelling sadness in your chest. You know this is the last time you’ll get to hold his hand, or hold onto him like this. But he can’t stay the Soldier forever. He needs to be Bucky again.

Even if Bucky is the one who doesn’t want you.

[shaynawrites23]

Rosy Proposal

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Word count: 1505

Prompt: “One rose for every day I should have been with you.”

Written for @kitkatd7’s writing challenge! Congrats on 250!

You stood in the kitchen, humming to yourself as you skillfully flipped your pancakes. Off days were just the best, you had so much time to yourself and you could do anything you wanted.

The bowl of batter was soon empty and as you removed the pan from the stove, you caught sight of the calendar pinned to the fridge with a colorful Eiffel Tower magnet and you froze. August already?

You were snapped out of your trance by Nat strutting in, her posture similar to that of a Victorian-day queen as always.

"Hey girl, what's up?" She greeted you, pouring herself a glass of water.

"Nothing much. The usual."

She hummed in acknowledgement, pausing as if she were pondering her next words.

"You know, (Y/N), we should have a girl's day. You, me and Wanda."

You drizzled maple syrup over your pancakes, considering your options. You could go with Nat's idea, which would most likely result in you spilling any juicy details you hadn't previously mentioned regarding your love life, or you could take a day for yourself, which would probably end with you wallowing in how much you missed your boyfriend.

"Yeah, let's do it!"

~

A couple hours later, the three of you were lounging on Wanda's bed, each delicately balancing a bottle of nail polish between the fingers you were currently doing. You had selected the bright pink. It reminded you of when you were a teenager, as you always walked around with pink nails.

"So, (Y/N), any plans for when Bucky comes back from his mission?"

You sighed, screwing the cap back on your bottle and examining your work.

"Not really. I mean, it's been six months since he left on a six week mission. I just want Bucky back, you know."

"I get what you mean." Wanda placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "But still, wouldn't it be nice to plan a lovely date for the two of you? For after he rests up, of course."

"Maybe," you mused, leaning back against the fluffy pillows. "Actually, that sounds like a good idea. And I may have a better one."

Nat raised a questioning eyebrow and you continued.

"Bucky's been on a mission for six months; I think he deserves a vacation. And I can definitely get time off as well. So... what if we went on a road trip?"

Wanda clapped her hands in excitement. "Oh, that's a wonderful idea! I overheard Bucky telling Steve once how he wanted to go on a road trip across the country. Maybe you could do that."

"Yeah! I love road trips." You sat up. "In fact, I think I'll start planning already."

You moved to leave but Wanda grabbed your wrist.

"Noo, don't go!"

"But I need my laptop, Wanda, I'll be right back."

"Use mine."

You shrugged, but sat down again as Wanda handed you her laptop. Nat had pulled out her phone and was busily texting, the clicking of her nails against the screen filling the room.

"Nat, is there something I should know about?" You asked, eyeing her suspiciously.

"Nope," she mumbled, popping the 'p.' "Nothing at all."

Curse her for having such an excellent poker face. You couldn't tell if she was lying or telling the truth, but you chose to ignore it anyway.

~

Your stomach grumbled, and you glanced at your watch, a beautiful watch with a white leather wristband and silver studded hearts on the face, below the hands. It was a gift Bucky had gotten for you on your first anniversary.

Shit. Why did everything have to remind you of him?

"Hey, girls, it's six thirty. I don't know about you, but I'm hungry, so I'm gonna go make myself a sandwich or something, okay?"

You moved to leave, and once more, Wanda grabbed your wrist.

"Wait! We'll order takeout."

So you sat down again, an amused smile playing on your face.

"Why do I have the feeling you're trying to keep me here as long as possible?"

"Maybe we are, maybe you're just imagining it," Nat shrugged. "Does it really matter?"

"I guess not. So, where are we ordering from?"

~

You were now watching a movie, a rom-com, courtesy of Wanda. Of course it had to be a love story. You'd spent six months without your partner, your other half, and you were itching to have him back in your arms.

Naturally, you had called each other, or rather, he had called you whenever he was able to do so safely, but it was never quite the same as having him there, with you.

Nat's phone pinged, and she snatched it up to read the text. Both you and Wanda paid her no mind, Wanda was engrossed in the movie and you were daydreaming about your boyfriend.

Then Wanda's phone pinged, and as she read the text, she glanced at Nat, behind her. However, you were too distracted to notice them subtly mouthing instructions at one another.

"Hey, Nat, (Y/N), I just remembered I have a date with Vision tomorrow and I need to be well-rested, so I'm sorry but I have to cut our girls' day short." She looked so genuinely sorry, you didn't think twice about it and pulled her into a hug.

"Aw, it's okay, girl. We can always schedule another one. Have fun tomorrow!"

Had you looked back when you left, you'd have seen Nat rapidly dialing Steve's number.

~

As you attempted to open the door to your suite, courtesy of Tony, you discovered the door was jammed. You fished your phone out of your pocket to call the billionaire, but shoved it back when you heard a curse on the other side.

"Hey! Who's in there?" You yelled. If it was a burglar, well, God have mercy on him.

You jiggled the knob once more and the door swung open. You leapt forward into a battle stance, but relaxed when you scanned your surroundings and your jaw dropped open.

The room was filled with roses, it seemed like there was a bouquet on every surface. Each rose was the same vibrant hue, as red as your favorite lipstick, the one Bucky couldn't resist messing up and before you knew it, his mouth would be on yours.

Stop thinking about that. Where did these come from?

You spotted a card on the bouquet lying on the couch and you folded it open, inhaling the sweet smell of the flowers as you read it.

'One rose for every day I should have been with you.'

Well that was either sweet or creepy, depending on who it was from.

You stumbled into the bedroom, hoping to find another card or at the very least, a receipt that would indicate who sent them. Instead, you got another huge surprise.

The bedroom was illuminated by candlelight, and there were rose petals on the bed, arranged in a way that must have taken hours and a lot of though.

And the biggest surprise of all was Bucky kneeling before you, a tired but nonetheless admiring grin on his face. His hands held a small black jewelry box, and the ring displayed before you was silver with an elegantly cut sapphire.

Your hands flew to your mouth as Bucky started speaking.

"Doll, I'm... shit I forgot my speech. Okay, uh, shit. Here goes. So I've been away for six months and I've had a lot of time to think about our relationship. You were there for me when I started to adjust to this century. You were there for me during every nightmare, every tough therapy session, everything. I can't thank you enough for that. Then, when I asked you on a first date and you agreed, I was about ready to jump ten feet into the air from joy. And I can't say exactly, but somewhere in between the first time we met and now, I fell hopelessly in love with you. I only hope that you feel the same way about me. (Y/N), will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?"

You didn't respond, only falling to your knees and kissing him with every ounce of love and passion you had in you. Your arms wrapped around his neck and you felt a tear slip down your cheek, but you didn't care.

When you finally pulled away to breathe, Bucky's smile could light up the world as he slipped the ring on your finger. You kissed him again, and this time his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as if he were afraid you might evaporate.

This time he was the one to pull away, the same dazzling smile never leaving his face.

"I'm truly the happiest man alive," he whispered, pulling you into him and burying his nose in your hair, inhaling the scent of your shampoo.

You pulled away slightly to look at him, a teasing glint in your eyes.

"Bucky?"

"Yeah, doll?"

"What am I gonna do with all these roses?"

[heart-eye-harrington]

bathroom chandelier

(gif by @harringtown​! thx!)

Summary: When Steve gets invited to a party thrown by some old friends, reader finds sanctuary in the bathroom

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: implied social anxiety and one (1) curse word

⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★

The bathroom floor tile is cool against your check, its matte finish seems to hold the January breeze. It keeps you here, almost cradled in its quiet, the feeling similar to waking up on a chilly Sunday morning, comforter cocooning you in a soft comforting warmth created from a good night’s sleep.  

Above you the bathroom chandelier twinkles. After hours of your staring contest, you still haven’t landed on how expensive you think it is. It’s definitely more than your outfit, that much is clear. The thought seems to churn your stomach for the hundredth time this night, but like each time before, you refused to throw up in the fancy shower. 

God, it was just so clear to you that you didn’t belong here. 

⋆★⋆★⋆

“Wanna get some fries?” Steve sent you a quick questioning look from the driver’s side. You rolled your eyes, instantly catching on. 

“Steve, what do you want?” you laughed at his overly dramatic reaction. He brought a hand to his heart and scoffed.

“What? A guy can’t get is lovely significant other some food without some ulterior motive? I have to say, I’m offended.” 

“I can see that,” you gestured to his expression and still poised hand. “I never said bribes didn’t work, just that I knew that’s what you were doing. I’m down for fries, but what is this ulterior motive?” You grabbed the hand off his chest and intertwined your fingers. He gave you a tight squeeze before he sighed. 

“You know how my parents are members of the country club?” you hummed, you knew that’s where they spent most of their time was either spent there or travel for his dad’s work. “Well, they put me in the kid’s golf lessons with all the other snotty brats whose parents didn’t feel like watching them. We all became close after being stuck in those stupid lessons for years, but haven’t talked since we outgrew them. Anyway, one of them is throwing a party, and I was wondering if you wanted to go?” 

You shifted a bit. Steve had always been a bit more extroverted than you, and the idea of going to a stranger’s house filled with people you’ve never meet was a bit daunting. Discomfort slowly kneaded your stomach, only stopping when Steve gave your hand another squeeze. 

“Listen, we don’t need to go. I’d be perfectly happy sitting on my couch and stuffing our faces.” A soft smile tugged at your lips as you pictured it, practically sinking into his sofa. The feeling was short-lived as guilt gripped your chest. 

“No, we can go. You said you haven’t seen them in a while, I wouldn’t want to keep you from catching up with them.” 

“Are you sure?” concern dripped from his words like sticky sweet honey. Maybe that’s why they were so easy to swallow, despite your initial unease. 

“Yeah, as long as you keep your promise about fries.” your tone was playful, but Steve knew you were serious. He shook his head, a boyish grin light up his face as he pulled your hand to his lips, placing a sweet kiss on the soft skin.

⋆★⋆★⋆

“Holy shit” you whispered under your breath, just loud enough for Steve to hear. He chuckled, “Yeah, holy shit.”

You had a soft grip on his bicep as the two of you walked to what had to be the biggest and most beautiful house you had ever seen. The driveway was big enough to land a private jet on, which you had a sneaking suspicion had been done before. Greek statues and sculpted bushes littered the well-kept lawn. Balconies and columns decorate the stark white house.

One of your hands came to your collar, fingers milling the fabric. It was the nicest outfit you owned, but it suddenly didn’t feel like enough. Steve placed a hand over the one still resting on his arm. 

“Hey, stop that. You look stunning. You’re fine, and as soon as you don’t feel like you are, we’ll leave, okay?” His thumb rubbed reassuring circles on the back of your hand, smudging out any discomfort you felt. You sent him a weak smile and a nod. 

⋆★⋆★⋆

The thumping bass was muffled by the heavy wooded door, a barrier keeping you from the party outside. A shield from the glares and whispers, but one you knew you would eventually need to drop. You should get out of this bathroom before some girl needs it to throw up.

The thought manifests in a solid knock against the door. You shuffle to your feet, brushing your hair that was disheveled by laying on the tile. You could stay all night, but right now you need to get the fuck up, get back out there, fill up a cup and pretend to be as drunk as you seem. Your fingers fumble with the lock, letting down the shield and preparing for the arrows to fly and find their target in your chest. As you swing the door open, you find Steve on the other side, his soft eyes a pleasant surprise. 

“Hi”

“Hi”

“Can I-?” he nods his head toward the bathroom, hands dug deep into his pockets. 

“Oh, yeah.” you start to leave, but he catches your fingers as you pass him. 

“I was hoping you’d come with.” His pleading eyes accentuated by raised eyebrows and a soft tight-lipped smile. He sees the confusion building behind your eyes, “To talk.” You nod. interlocking your fingers with his and following him into the bathroom. You sit back on the tile, facing the expensive shower.

“So, wanna explain why you’ve been hiding in here for 20 minutes?” his question wrapped with concern, not a trace of anger, accusations, or a demeaning tone to be found. Your eyes flick up to the chandelier, its light and elegance seeming to mock you. 

“I just feel like I don’t belong here.” the though finally coming out in words. You feel Steve shift next to you. You know he’s going to say something, so you need to get the rest of your thoughts out. “My parents don’t belong to a country club. This is my best outfit, and it probably looks like rags to your friends. I don’t have a big house with statues, or a pool, or a chandelier in my bathroom.” You wanted to stop there, but the flood gates were open, “I don’t have any of this. I’m afraid that I’m not enough for you.”  

Your words hang in the air, stilling any life outside the four bathroom walls, and frankly the life inside them as well. Your breath hitches as you realize the gravity of what you said. 

“Is that really what you think?” Steve’s words felt like an old blanket, worn with love and holding on to its last threads. His features soften and sink as he scans your face. You can’t meet his eyes, yours still trained on the glistening light above you. 

Steve digs into his pocket and gets his wallet. He’s obviously looking for something, and your curiosity gets the better of you. He finds whatever it is, pulls it out, and holds it in front of him like it was a golden ticket. 

“Do you know what this is?”

“Um, a receipt.” his face lights up at your hesitant response.

“Yes! Do you know what for?”

“No?”

“It’s from the first time we went out. From the drive-thru. You weren’t really hungry but I made you get something, and you got fries. We drove around, and you made me laugh so hard-”

“-milkshake shot out of your nose.” a laugh gently shakes your chest at the memory. You meet his eyes and see the joy in them. His cheeks hide his eyes as he smiles. 

“That’s what I want. Well, maybe not the milkshake part, but to laugh with someone. You don’t need all this-” he gestures around the room, “-to be enough for me. You are everything to me.” 

You don’t notice the tears falling down your cheeks until Steve’s thumb wipes them away. You lean into him, wrapping your arms around his shoulder and resting your head against his neck. He’s quick to engulf you in the hug, gently swaying to try and soothe you. 

“Wanna crawl out the window and get some fries? We can eat them at my house.” your laugh is muffled by his hair, but he feels you nod. 

“Only if you get a shake.”

[aries-writingblog]

Stay With Me (2)

Summary: James Buchanan Barnes had never looked at himself as a family guy. He never even thought of it until she came around, flipping his world inside out. Bucky likes trouble and this girl? Well, she seems to invite chaos to dinner.

Pairing: Mob! Bucky Barnes x OC! Alex Grant

Chapter Word Count: 1898

Chapter Warnings: Language, mentions of violence, actual violence (one little hit, nothing big)

A/N: This is an OC story but I try to make them with the least amount of physical description as necessary. The pronouns used are feminine for the character.

“Hey, Alex- you’ve got another package on the front porch.” Wanda announced, walking through the door with Peter and Pietro in tow. The woman groaned, pressing her head to the kitchen island countertop.

“Again?” Alex asked, she looked over to Peter. “It’s the third time in two weeks- are you telling your boss the supplies we need?” Peter’s eyes widened and he shook his head. For the past two weeks, three unmarked packages arrived on Alex’s doorstep. The first just had some essentials for wood working- stain, paint, putty, a couple of new carving knives. The second had been similar- then she read back over a receipt as she was balancing her cheque book, noting the exact same products were present in the boxes. She could only imagine what was in the next one.

And she absolutely refused to change hardware stores- the workers were always so kind to her and the youth that typically dropped by- most of them attending the annual auctions to show support. More than once, they banded together and presented the group with a donation- which prompted Alex to make holiday cookies for the store employees every year. So, no- she would not give up on her family simply because of one idiotic, stupid rich criminal, who seemed hell bent on forcing his way into her life.

“What makes you think they’re from Bucky?” He asked, snatching a drink from her fridge. Pietro grunted, jumping up and sitting on the island, leaning over to Alex.

“If he’s giving you free shit, I wouldn’t complain.” He commented, tugging at her hair gently. Alex looked up, cocking an eyebrow at the teen. “Wring that fucker dry.”

“Pietro.” Wanda scolded, slapping her brother’s arm. “I don’t blame you, Alex. He’s a shady character, with even shadier money.”

“Okay, why are two teens giving me advice, right now? Shouldn’t you be... I don’t know, cleaning your rooms or something?” She snipped, pushing Pietro off the countertop. “People eat here, get your ass off.”

“I’m serious, Alex.” Pietro stopped her, gazing at her. She stopped pushing, meeting his electric blue eyes. “It would help with some of the expenses here. You know that.”

“We aren’t broke. You are, dickhead.” Alex shoved him down the hallway. “Now go- I need laundry in five minutes or your ass is grass.”

Wanda laughed, following her brother down the hallway. The two had been orphaned kids when Alex found them. They were on the streets, trying to survive. Pietro had been caught stealing from a grocery store, Alex stepped in and apologized for his behavior. The, at the time, nine year old played along and then told Alex their situation. She immediately offered them a place in her home. Pietro had accepted, trusting her fully. Wanda had been suspicious but eventually warmed up to her. They’d lived together for six years, the teens would have their sixteenth birthday in a few months. Every time Pietro or Wanda offered to help out and get a job, she turned them down.

“I make plenty of money at the hospital. You’re only kids now, enjoy your time as kids.” She’d tell them.

“They’re right, you know.” Peter supplied, tossing his backpack to the floor. “He may make dirty money but he has plenty of it. If he’s blowing it on you- what’s the problem?” Alex scoffed, swallowing her last bite of cookie.

“The problem is that you don’t live here, Pete. Why are you always here?” She passed the last of the dessert over to Peter.

“Aunt May is working night shift again and I told her I would stay with you so she wouldn’t worry.” He explained, trying to talk around a mouthful of cookie. He swallowed, taking another swig of his drink. “Plus, Pietro and I have a science report due tomorrow and we haven’t started it yet.” Alex took a deep, calming breath, closing her eyes.

“That’s great, Peter. But I’m also working night shift this week. So, you’ll be here by yourselves.” Alex stood up, stretching her back out. “Don’t burn my house down.”

“Sure thing.” He beamed at her, a chuckle falling from her lips as she started up the stairs.

Alex quickly got dressed for work, pulling on her scrubs. She made sure she had her ID badge, clipping it to her pocket. She then stopped by Pietro and Wanda’s rooms to double check if the clothes were picked up. On her way down the stairs, she heard quiet whispering from the teens.

“- what’s the harm in a date with the guy?” Pietro asked. Wanda sighed, Alex could almost picture her pressing her fingers to her temples in annoyance.

“So what she doesn’t want to date anyone? Just let it go, Pietro. And no one said anything about her dating Bucky, Peter just said that he has an interest in her. And sending random gifts isn’t gonna win that woman over, trust me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, do you know something?” Peter asked. Alex stopped on the steps, curious to hear what Wanda was going to spill to the group.

“Well... here’s the thing. In the back of Alex’s closet, there’s a-“ Wanda stopped, turning around and greeting Alex with a sheepish grin. “Oh, hi Alex.”

“Kids...” she narrowed her eyes, skirting around the group and going into the laundry room. There was a pause before three pairs of feet scurried after her.

“Can we order pizza tonight?” Pietro batted his eyelashes at her, giving his signature pouting smile. She returned the smile, mocking him.

“Pizza in the freezer. And stop going into my closet, Wanda.”

“In my defense, you told me I could borrow that top a few weeks ago and it fell off the hanger. So, was I really in your closet?” She asked, narrowing her eyes. Alex cocked an eyebrow and continued the laundry.

“What would you do, if hypothetically Mr. Barnes was like really interested in you?” Peter asked her, leaning over the washing machine.

“Peter.” She sighed. “I’m not dating your boss. End of story.” She started the machine before turning to Wanda. “Pizza’s in the freezer, keep an eye on it while it’s baking. Don’t let strangers into the house and keep an eye on your brother and Peter. Keep the laundry going and don’t work with any of the auction stuff until I get home. I don’t want any of you showing up at the hospital, wounded. Got it?”

Wanda nodded, repeating everything back to her. Alex grabbed her phone and keys, tucking them into her pockets. She hugged Wanda goodbye, ruffling Pietro‘s hair, before going out. She passed by the large box on the porch, groaning. She pushed it over to the edge of the porch, kicking it for good measure. Then, she got into her car and started to the hospital.

~~~~~~

“I don’t think this is a good idea, Bucky.” Steve advised, crossing his arms. He’d been slightly pissed all day, as soon as Bucky told him of the plan. Sam laughed, watching the buildings out of the window. Bucky groaned, throwing his head back onto the headrest.

“I’m just gonna ask if she got the deliveries. That’s it. No flirting, no banter, nothing. Zilch. Just a question.” Bucky reviewed, once again.

“But in practice, the deliveries are flirting tactics.” Steve pointed out, rolling his eyes. “She threatened to shoot you if you came back, Bucky. Leave it alone.”

“What’s the matter with you?” Bucky griped, cutting his eyes over to Steve. “You never give me shit for anything- girls in clubs, you’ve seen me beat guys senseless, shoot people, more questionable things than being interested in a woman.”

“She’s a woman who has her life together, man. Don’t pull her into this life.” Steve sighed, causing Bucky to shut his mouth. The SUV pulled to a stop in front of the house. Bucky unbuckled his seatbelt and stepped out, slamming the door behind him. He jaunted up the steps and rapped his knuckles against the door. When it opened, he saw a teenaged boy with bleach white hair behind it.

“Can I help you?” He asked. He didn’t let the door open further than his shoulders. It was excusable. A strange, tattooed man at seven thirty standing on the porch of a woman who threatened to kill him. Bucky flashed a bright smile.

“Is Alex around, kid?” He asked, glancing over and spying the box still sitting unopened on the porch. “Ah... she hasn’t opened them?”

“You’re Bucky Barnes?” He asked, ticking an eyebrow up. Bucky nodded, reaching a hand out to shake hands. Pietro didn’t reciprocate, keeping the door tucked to him. Alex trained these kids well. “Well, thanks for the shit but Alex said she didn’t really want it.”

“Pietro, you left the oven-“ A girl with red hair stopped in her tracks. “What’s going on?”

“This is Barnes.” Pietro looked back at her.

“Oh, hi, Mr. Barnes!” Peter peeked his head around Pietro, opening the door wider. Pietro grumbled something but stood back a little to accommodate for the other boy. “What are you doing here?” Bucky silently sent a thanks to any deity currently listening in. Peter he could work with, the other two kids weren’t gonna give him the time of day. Much like Alex.

“Alex around?” He asked, trying to peek into the house further. Pietro shifted, blocking his view. He crossed his arms, scowling at the bulky mass of a man standing on their porch.

“No- she’s at work-“

“Peter!” The girl hissed, slapping a hand over his mouth. “Shut up!” She turned to Bucky again. “Listen, mister, we don’t want your gifts or you loitering on our porch. We’ve found Jesus, don’t need your depression pamphlet, and we don’t want any of your fucking cookies. Our mom doesn’t condone talking to strangers. Good day, sir.” She slammed the door in his face, the audible sound of several locks clicking.

“Wanda- what the fuck! He could kill you, you know that right?” One of the boys shrilled on the opposite side of the door. Bucky stood in shock- mom? Alex definitely did not look old enough to have two fifteen year olds.

“Oh please, as if. That’ll look real good to Alex, wouldn’t it? He won’t touch either of us.”

Bucky turned and jogged down the steps back to the car. When he opened the door, Sam was doubled over, laughing so hard he was crying. Steve was watching with a ‘I told you so’ smile.

“Alright, you’ve had your laughs.” He grumbled. Shoving his way into the car. Sam snickered, straightening up and looking over at the man.

“That little girl kicked your ass!” He burst out laughing again, pounding his fist on his knee. Bucky mimicked Sam’s words mockingly as he began a search on his phone.

“Whatever.” He breathed out, looking up to the driver. “Saint Quincy’s Hospital, Davis.” The driver nodded, starting the car.

“Why are we going to a hospital?” Steve asked, mirth in his voice. Sam began wiping the laughter from his face, sniffling. Bucky turned to Steve, unbuckling his seat belt.

“Punch me in the face.” He instructed, unbuttoning the top buttons on his shirt. Steve raised an eyebrow, cocking his head. Sam turned, serious again.

“Now, wait a minute-“ Sam was interrupted by Steve throwing a punch directly into Bucky’s nose. Bucky doubled over, holding his now bleeding nose. His eyes watered, stomach rolling.

“Shit!”

[hopelikethemoon]

San Antonio (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: San Antonio  Rating: PG-13 Length: 2100 Warnings: None.  Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set in December 1993.  Summary: Reader and Javier make their way to Laredo. 

Taglist:  @grapemama  @seawhisperer @huliabitch @pedropascalito @rogrsnbarnes @thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow @hiscyarika @plexflexico @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501 @fioccodineveautunnale  @roxypeanut @snivellusim @amarvelousmandalorian @lukesrighthand @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @exrebelshocktrooper @awesomefandomsunited @ah-callie @swhiskeys @lady-tano @beskar-droids @space-floozy @cable-kenobi @longitud-de-onda @cool-ultra-nerd @himbopoes @findhimfives @pedrosdoll @seeking-a-great--perhaps @frietiemeloen @arrowswithwifi @random066 @uncomicalhumour @heather-lynn @domino-oh-damn​ @cyarikaaa @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage @ksgeekgirl​  @yabby-girl @xqueenofthecraziesx​ @punkass-potato​ @coredrive​ @pascalesque​ @theduchessofkirkcaldy​ @queenquazar​ @sabinemorans​ @buckstaposition​ (if I forget to tag you, I’m sorry)

“How are you doing, baby?” Javier questioned as he held Josie, letting her bounce on his lap. She was thrilled with the attention and giggling up a storm. 

You reached for your glass of tea and took a sip from the straw. “I’m fine.” You assured him, though it was a half-hearted answer. Truth be told, you weren’t fine. But you weren’t about to let that get to you. “Are you calling your father tomorrow?”

Javier canted his head to the side, pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek. “Yeah.” He stared at you for a long moment, “You nervous about that?”

You sat your glass down and shrugged. “Who wouldn’t be, Javi?”

“Pops knows about you,” Javier reminded you. “Or at least he knows that I’m not coming to the wedding alone.”

You nodded your head, taking another sip of tea. “What if he hates me?”

His brows drew together, “He’ll love you, baby. And he’ll adore Josie.”

“You aren’t worried about how he’ll react to finding out he has a seven month old granddaughter?”

“He’ll be thrilled, baby.” Javier assured you, reaching over to give your leg a squeeze beneath the table. “I mean look at her.” He turned Josie towards you and she grinned broadly as she bounced on his lap, “She’s gonna have him wrapped around his finger.”

“And what about the rest of your family?” You questioned, reaching out to brush your fingers over her forehead, before giving her nose a playful pinch — much to her amusement. She squealed, trying to reach for you. 

“I’m not gonna sit here and pretend they won’t have opinions,” He scraped his teeth over his bottom lip, before sweeping his tongue over the spot. “Given my past, I don’t think any of them would expect to see me coming home with you or a baby in tow.”

You took Josie from him, smiling as she cuddled into your chest. You ran your hand down her back as you stared at Javier. “I’ve never been taken home to meet someone’s family. Much less their entire family.”

Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth, “We don’t have to go if you don’t want to, baby. Say the word and we’ll just stay at the ranch.”

“No.” You shook your head. “Then they’ll definitely hate me.” That would not look good. “I’m just anxious. About all of it.”

“The move?”

You nodded. “Can we… Can we not bring up that we quit?”

“I already told pops that I quit.”

You glanced down at Josie as she started pulling on the tie of your dress. “Sweetheart, you can’t eat that.” You warned her, before looking up at Javi. “Just… tell him to keep it quiet for right now. I really don’t want to get into any conversations about what happened in Colombia.”

“I get it.” He slid closer to you on the booth, slinging his arm around your shoulders. “I want this to be a good thing, baby.”

“It is.” You assured him. “It’s just a lot all at once.” You leaned towards him, resting your cheek against his shoulder. 

It wasn’t just losing your job and having to leave behind your life in Colombia that you were fretting about. Hell, it wasn’t just going to a Peña family wedding with his entire extended family. There was the pressure of moving to Miami — signing a contract on a condo neither of you had ever seen. 

Getting a place of your own where the two of you would start a new life together with your daughter.

Beneath it all you were still worried that this wouldn’t last. The entire flight to San Antonio you had dwelled on that fear — the worry that Colombia had been the only thing that kept the two of you together.

“Hey, JoJo.” Javier said, rubbing his hand down Josie’s back as he got her attention. She turned her head, making a series of gurgling sounds in response. “Wanna try a lemon?” 

You rolled your eyes, “Are you torturing our daughter now?”

Josie reached for Javier and he took her back into his lap.

“It’s just a lemon.” Javier grinned at you as he plucked the lemon slice off the rim of your tea glass. He ran his finger over the side of the lemon, before he trailed it over her bottom lip. 

Josie looked perplexed at first, her eyes going wide as she licked at her lips. She looked mildly horrified for a moment and you prepared for tears as she looked at you and then tilted her head to look up at Javier. But her tears never came. 

“You like that?” He questioned as she made grabby hands for the slice of lemon. 

“Javi.” You tsked as he gave Josie the lemon slice and she tried to shove the entire thing, peel and all, into her mouth. 

Javier chuckled, “That’s my girl.” He pulled the lemon away from her, grinning at you as she squealed and chortled trying to reach for the lemon. “See. She loves it.”

“She’d eat anything you gave her.” You shook your head, finishing off the rest of your tea. 

The waitress was quick to come to the table with the pitcher of tea. She’d been a very attentive waitress — which has nothing to do with you. 

“She is just so precious.” The waitress cooed at Josie, sitting the pitcher of tea down on the table as she leaned down to Josie’s height across the table. “Hi, sweetheart! Look at you.”

“We’re ready for the check.” You told her with an insincere smile. 

Javier gave you a curious look, “You ready to go back to the hotel already?” He questioned, reaching over to run his hand over your arm as he kept his hand securely against Josie’s stomach to keep her from squirming off his lap. 

“Is that one or two?” The waitress questioned, a little too hopefully. 

“One.” Javier answered, his eyes still on your face. “You good, baby?”

“I’m just tired,” You explained with a shrug of your shoulders. “We can stop at H-E-B on the way back to the room.” You met his eyes, “See if she likes limes too.”

The waitress lingered, “You know, we’ve got limes here. I can bring you a plate out if you’d like.”

“The check is fine.” Javier told her, glancing at her briefly before turning his attention back to you. “Baby, if this is about going to the wedding…” 

“It’s not.” You assured him, brushing your fingers through your hair. “I’m still jet lagged.”

“It was a five hour flight into the same timezone.” He gave you a pointed look as he reached for his beer and finished it off. 

“Alright,” Your shoulders sagged. “I am nervous about meeting your family.” Javier started to interrupt, but you continued. “That’s not going to keep me from going to the wedding, however. Plus there’s the whole Lorraine situation.”

“It’s not gonna be a situation.” He said firmly, shaking his head. “That shit happened a long time ago.” 

“Javier,” You sighed heavily, fixing him with a look. “Your ex-fiancé is still close with your family. So much so that she’s invited to the wedding—”

“It’s a small town.” 

“—which puts pressure on me. Regardless of the size of the town.” You rested your elbow on the table, propping your chin up on your palm. “It’s my one big chance to make a good impression. You only get one first impression.” 

“Baby,” Javier reached out and brushed his fingers over your cheek. “You’re a fucking force to be reckoned with. If they can’t see that from the first time they meet you, that’s on them. Not you.” He tucked a lock of hair behind your ear, before leaning towards you and pressing a kiss to your temple. “Don’t stress it.” 

“Easier said than done.” You muttered, turning to face him as he pulled back. “At least I’ll have my girl there,” You remarked, grinning down at Josie as she cooed at you. “You’re going to get everyone to fall in love with you, aren’t you?”

The waitress returned with the receipt, “She really is an adorable baby. How old is she?”

“She was born in May,” You answered, taking the receipt from her and passing it to Javier as you took a hold of Josie so he could pay. 

“So what brings the two of you to San Antonio?” She questioned. 

You let Josie stand on your legs, laughing as she leaned back against you and tried to kick her feet up onto the table, “We’re visiting his family.” 

The waitress grinned, “Oh, how nice!” 

“Should be fun,” Javier remarked with a tight-lipped smile as he passed her the receipt and a tip. 

“Well I hope ya’ll have a good trip. Hope to see you around again.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, though the temptation was strong. 

This was a new situation for you. Back in Colombia — before Josie — it never bothered you when women would flirt with him at the bar or on the job. And after Josie you hadn’t exactly had a nightlife. You couldn’t actually remember the last time the two of you had had dinner at a restaurant. 

Maybe since Steve and Connie left. Well over a year ago. 

Now, the flirtatious giggles and fluttering eyelashes made you want to strangle someone. Javier, to his benefit, seemed oblivious — which hadn’t been the case one upon a time. 

At least there was comfort in that. 

——

 “Javi,” You started as you sat down on the foot of the bed, reaching behind you to give his leg a squeeze through the covers. “Babe, wake up.”

“Hmm?” He mumbled as he slowly woke up. Javier rubbed at his face, letting out a heavy sigh as he peered down at you. “What’s up, baby?”

“Josie hates this shitty hotel crib.” You explained, extending your foot and nudging the rickety contraption the hotel had given you. “Are you okay if she joins us?”

Javier drew back the covers and rubbed at the empty space beside him, “C’mere.”

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” You assured Josie, bouncing her gently in your arms, before holding her close to you as you maneuvered yourself onto the bed. “She started fussing and woke me up.”

“Shit. I slept straight through it.” He yawned, scratching at his jaw as he rolled onto his side to face you. “Sorry baby.”

“It’s okay.” You assured him as you settled Josie onto the bed between the two of you. “She’s so sleepy.” You cooed at her, keeping your hand on her stomach as you shifted to turn off the lamp beside the bed. 

The window that was parallel to the bed had the worst curtain you’d ever seen in a hotel. It was sheer and your room was illuminated in the cold blue light of the parking lot fixtures. You could see Javier clearly, his own tired eyes watching you in the darkness. 

“What?”

He shook his head, reaching out to rest his hand over yours on Josie’s belly. “You’re happy, right?”

You didn’t even have to hesitate on that. “So happy.” And you meant it. 

“I know leaving was hard…”

“It was a long time coming,” You told him quietly. “And I don’t regret it.” You slid your foot towards his under the covers, brushing it against his lower calf. “I love you.”

He gave your hand three short little squeezes and smiled at you, “Love you too, baby.” Javier stifled another yawn. “Don’t worry about pops, okay? Once we’re down there, I just know he’s gonna take a liking to you.”

“Why? Because I helped make him an abuelo?” You teased lightly, keeping your voice quiet as you heard Josie let out a sleepy sounding sigh. 

“Yeah, you’ll win big awards for that.” Javier chuckled softly, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. “And he’ll like you cause you make me happy.”

“Thank God for that.” You grinned, “We both know how pissy you get when you’re unhappy.”

“Hey! I was about to dole out more praise.”

“I’m waiting.”

He shook his head, “You witty, clever, and you take no shit. Chucho will wish you were his daughter.”

“A little too incestuous for my taste.” You tsked. 

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah.” You sighed, pursing your lips. “I’m just still reeling from everything.”

“I know.” He frowned, shifting as close as he could without accidentally waking Josie. “But we’ve got it handled. You and me and JoJo.”

You titled your head to meet his lips, smiling against them. “I’m looking forward to our new life together, Javi. I really am.”

“Me too.” Javier answered, squeezing your hand. “Now sleep, baby. We’ve gotta handle picking up our shit tomorrow.”

“Don’t remind me.” You’d been dreading having to go through everything from your storage unit from before your move to Colombia. So much of it was going to be trash you didn’t need. Life had changed since 1987. 

You had your own family now. 

[satanherfuckingself]

Hayley Atwell. Publicly Adored Psychopath.

Before I begin, I feel it's imperative to mention that this was not created to cause harm. Do not send anyone hatred or harassment despite what you may read. You are not a monster. Do not stoop to that level. Verbal abuse is still abuse, whether we acknowledge it or not, whether someone 'deserves' it or not.

Please, do not do that. Do not become an abuser. If you feel the need to do something, I will provide solutions for that fact, but hatred and harm will not solve anything.

Keep that in mind. And please stay tuned and read this thoroughly because it's more than just a social call out. It's more than just 'cancel culture' or someone making a big whoop over something nonsensical or even holding someone accountable for their actions. I promise there is a point to this, and it is probably far more important than the title even suggests.

Please, stick with it, and read to the end.

I also feel the need to mention that some of the behaviors discussed in this piece will undoubtedly be quite... disturbing. Proceed with caution if you find it necessary.

And. Let it be known that any claims made here are in fact alleged. Evidence and sources will be provided of course, that's simply a friendly reminder for the... legality of it.

Forgive me if you enjoy this ending because if you have any sense of a decent moral compass, this will probably shatter that enjoyment of it, and forgive me if you do not because this will only make you hate it more.

So I found this blog:

Hydra Support Blog

Really, it's a blog centered entirely around hating Sharon Carter, the very real person that was her actress, Emily VanCamp, encouraging hatred towards this same very real person and her fans for any scrounged up nonexistent reason they can find, without proof, as well as fans of the comics.

They also insult her acting, despite the fact that Emily actually has won awards for her performances while the idol they are so devoted to has not.

All for the sake of the very real bully who actively encouraged, manipulated, and even to some degree, promoted the behavior. Under the guise of promoting her own character.

Why did I call them a Hydra support blog?

Well, quite clearly, they support the Creepy Uncle Theory that Endgame made a point to reward them with, which certainly does require the support of Hydra among other things, but I won't dive into that just yet. It's also because they sound exactly like Zola. Don't worry, we'll come back to it. But they are also quite clearly overjoyed at the idea of someone losing a job for their personal enjoyment.

This is also terrible.

Allow me to remind that this harassment and hatred was not limited to these fans, or fans of Peggy or Steggy. It also existed, to some degree among Romanogers fans, Stucky fans, and Stony fans. You know who you are. And you are certainly not excused from this behavior if you in any way participated in spreading hatred or contempt for the Staron and Sharon fanbase, or actively harassing those fans.

You don't have to like it, you can even rant against it all you like in your personal spaces. But being respectful and understanding should be the common fucking courteousy here. People are allowed to like different things from you. And they are not obligated to agree with you.

Your personal enjoyment is not worth more than someone's job or life. And it never should be.

However, the only actress who encouraged this particular behavior in full, among her fans... was Atwell.

Not Emily, not Chris, not Scarlett, not Sebastian, and not Robert Downey Jr. Some may have made tasteless jokes or even gone along with the situation, encouraging 'teams' among fans for publicity. I wouldn't label complete blamelessness in this case, but it is important to recognize ignorance over malicious behavior, which is the difference here. Because it was nothing to the extent of the tantrum that Atwell threw the moment the spotlight was no longer on her.

So let's talk about Hayley Atwell, and her involvement in all of this, the alleged actions and their implications. Let's take a deep dive into the psychology of it all, and why what she did was actually very wrong. I'll touch on the lack of etiquette and class as well as blatant unprofessionalism needed to consciously do what she did.

Because her behavior is disturbing, it is disgusting, and it has gone unnoticed for far too long. Her portrayal of Peggy makes the relationship canonically abusive. And no one noticed.

People are still defending her, and respecting her, despite what she's done. She is welcome to have a life and live it how she pleases, but not at the expense of other people. We cannot simply reward this type of behavior when it is unquestionably wrong. We cannot leave her with the power to do worse.

A good starting point in understanding what she's done would be here:

Receipts

Who one lovely sweetheart of a blogger decided to compile and I am ever so grateful for, as I'm a lazy shit~. My only regret is that this wasn't seen and still hasn't been seen by enough people, especially by those that rewarded or are even promoting the behavior still. This blogger is a very good person and that is abundantly clear, send her some love and reblog that post if you can. It's necessary more people see it. Thank you, love, you are truly a blessing. So I'm a little bias, I tend to be for good people.

Allow me to expand on it though, as I do have to mention, I have just a few minor additions and concerns. However, sources are provided perfectly, along with plenty of evidence to stand on it's own for what Atwell did. That this was active, deliberate, and intentional to hurt someone's career that wasn't herself. Allegedly.

But, let's also debunk some of Atwell's claims and mention a few other things, starting with all her claims about the relationship between Sharon and Steve. Between being 'disrespectful' and 'incestuous'.

Claims easily found in these articles:

https://ew.com/article/2016/06/06/captain-america-civil-war-hayley-atwell-steve-sharon/

https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/heat-vision/peggy-carter-does-not-approve-899860

https://www.hypable.com/captain-america-civil-war-hayley-atwell-steve-and-sharon-were-disrespectful/

https://www.thewrap.com/hayley-atwell-agent-carter-captain-america-civil-war-kiss-sharon-carter-marvel-incestuous-disrespectful/

https://www.cinemablend.com/new/Hayley-Atwell-Issue-With-Captain-America-Agent-13-Kiss-Civil-War-135197.html

https://www.bustle.com/articles/165038-hayley-atwell-reveals-peggys-feelings-about-steve-sharon-which-are-just-what-youd-expect

https://www.bustle.com/articles/165194-why-captain-america-sharon-carters-relationship-does-a-disservice-to-both-fans-steve-rogers

https://www.themarysue.com/peggy-carter-does-not-approve/

Oh, and look at that last one, including a gif of the psychotic rage it takes to shoot at someone who doesn't belong to you, because you're jealous... And of course, we love a good afterthought in which a real person is less important than a fictional story.

https://screenrant.com/captain-america-mcu-ending-problem-sharon-carter-endgame/

Did I need to include all of those sources? Of course not. Are they mostly along the same lines? Absolutely. But does it make a point of how positively this was covered as the media ran with her words to give her as much press and coverage as she wanted and promote her and only her ideas?

Absolutely...

To put it all very bluntly, I disagree with her. Why?

Well, for starters, we know that 'Peggy' had initially moved on from Steve. She'd married, had a family, supposedly loved this family and even had grandchildren. The character had always, comics alike but even in the MCU, been meant to signify and aid in Steve moving on, just as she did, from the past. It was a minor role, but still vital, and quite endearing when done this way.

But according to this, these articles and Atwell herself.

Peggy never loved the husband she'd initially married, or the family she'd made.

They were only placeholders for Steve.

According to her, Steve wasn't allowed to move on from her. Wasn't permitted to find happiness, beyond her, even though her character had blatantly stated she wanted him to in 'CA:TWS'. As proven even by Atwell's feelings towards Romanogers. Seemingly any woman that wasn't Peggy was an absolute 'no' for her. Because he belonged to 'Peggy'. I didn't know... slavery was a thing for her, but as far as I know, people cannot and should not be ownable.

Under no circumstances, even with married couples, should the people involved be considered property. They are individuals and human beings. Point blank. Period.

But let's make an exception in her case and say that this is true. Well, apparently this controlled permission and ownership extends to Sharon as well?

Now I'll ask, why is Peggy's opinion, a woman Steve had previously only shared one kiss with, had never even managed to share that one date with, relevant at all?

A woman who, need I remind you is well into her 90s by the time we see her again, is Steve still supposedly all she thinks about? All she thought about all those years? Why was a picture of... him on her desk in the 70s, as portrayed in Endgame, when she should have been married, with children, well into her 50s mind you but somehow still young, and apparently, none of her family is as important as Steve?

How is that healthy?

She was tantamount to an ex-lover at that point. Even if they had slept together, as Atwell claimed, and Evans and the writers disproved. Are people supposed to consult ex-lovers before they start dating someone else? Especially ones that get married and live their lives? Is there some unspoken rule I don't know about? Or in another sense, I wasn't aware she was also his mother and could decide for him, a grown man with a right to his own decisions and autonomy, who had initiated the romance with Sharon, what he could and could not do.

Ideally, Peggy would have cared more about Sharon, a niece she had supported in her endeavors and helped raise, rather than a man she admired symbolically and had shared one kiss with, and never managed to date. Just because she didn't get dick from him. Ideally, she would have cared more about the family she'd allegedly made after moving on from this man's death. A family, Sharon would have been a part of.

Her concerns shouldn't have been cockblocking Steve and saying he couldn't have Sharon and vice versa, they should have been whether or not he's treating Sharon right. And far more protective over Sharon, than possessive over Steve.

In fact, a good great aunt who'd truly loved both of them, faced with this situation, I would have even imagined trying to set them up, and being that scandalous older woman~, who's lived her life, had fun, loved her family, and wants to see him happy with someone else.

Because that's what true love is.

Wanting to see the person you love, happy, even if it's without you, even if it can't be you that gives them that happiness, especially if you've had to move on in your own life and can't be with them.

I fail to see how Steve moving on after she has too, qualifies as 'disrespectful'. Even if you find it tasteless that he kissed Sharon after her death. Could he have asked for her permission and blessing for the relationship? Of course! Maybe he should have, I think this would have even made it better. The difference being, a Peggy who truly cared about him would have given her blessing, not withheld it.

But what about the 'incestuous' aspect?

Well, that's also a no. At least... not technically, and certainly not before Peggy was forced back into the relationship, before Steve willingly and knowing became Sharon's uncle. And Peggy's placeholders were set aside like chopped liver. Steve was certainly in a peculiar situation that maybe doesn't look the best from the exterior, and in the original version of the comics, Sharon was merely Peggy's younger sister. However, the comparison of his situation is easily explained and understood in much better lighting with some simple imagination.

Take for example, and let's even make Sharon a more direct descendant just to drive the point home, if Steve were an ancient vampire.

Let's say... this vampire Steve has a brief romantic fling with a young and beautiful Peggy. They do not sleep together. But share some feelings, some sweet passings, and a single kiss. However, Steve goes dormant, for years and years and years on end. However vampires do. Peggy is understandably sad for the moment, perhaps upset. But she moves on. She understands, she falls in love with someone new, she has children, and her children have children, and so on and so forth. She lives a normal human life.

Steve wakes up.

And he meets Sharon. A however many greats granddaughter of the woman he was once infatuated with. But he may not necessarily know this. They look nothing alike. But maybe there's something special in the bloodline that draws them together, that draws him to her.

Oh, and by the way, this is starting to sound familiar. Ever heard of the 'Vampire Diaries'? Except Elena and Katherine do in fact look exactly alike.

Yet no one bats an eye at this or calls it incestuous.

The point being, he falls in love. And she does too. And maybe this time, he decides he wants someone to be with, to hold, wholly and completely. And he turns Sharon into his immortal lover. (There's a fic idea for anyone that wants it~!)

Perhaps this was even something that under circumstance, he couldn't offer to Peggy, or she had even rejected.

This is not incest, in any way, shape, or form. This is a man, faced with a circumstance, in which he moves on. And is happy to do so. There is nothing wrong with that.

Could it be a little strange that he happens to fall for someone in Peggy's bloodline? Sure. But it's still not incest.

Unless~, he falls in love with Sharon... before deciding on takebacksies and finding a way to go back in time just to be with her however many greats grandmother. Possibly even ensuring that his own blood is part of Sharon's, or erasing her from existence along with any of the other family that Peggy had allegedly loved.

The first one is perfectly understandable. The second one is disgusting.

Peggy makes it incestuous.

But I suppose, according to Atwell, Peggy was also incapable of love.

Not just loving other people besides Steve, but love in general. Because this is called obsession, and it's sick. It's disturbing. Can't tell the difference? Here, that should help. This one too, very informative and does a good job of simplifying this concept for the average person. And what a coincidence. Oh, and look, another. And another.

Seriously, this is what Marvel, and Disney, a modern day company that should be responsible with it's messages and stories, glorified and normalized for the public.

If you're going to write a horror story, at least say it's a fucking horror story. Or take the goddamn criticism when someone tells you it is objectively bad.

So, not only did this woman completely fabricate and romanticize a crush, an unhealthy one, and blow it up to be a real relationship along with convincing everyone of the lie, she put others down to do so in order to get what she wanted, regardless of the price that others had to pay for it. Lovely. I think her claims completely undermine and disregard the legacy Peggy had left behind, and the love she would have otherwise had for her family. I think it's a gross mischaracterization of her that misses the mark on who 'Peggy Carter' was and what she represents.

Did you know that in the comics she has a relationship with Gabe Jones? One of Steve's own Howlies no less, and a wonderful representation of an interracial love fighting for what's right, together, especially for the time period?

Where's that love story, that doesn't require Steve to be a creepy uncle for her sake and is more than just an obsessive crush and single kiss?

Why does Sharon not matter to her? Why did her husband not matter? Why did her kids not matter?

And if you're under the assumption that Steve was this person the entire time, why did Hydra not matter growing within S.H.I.E.L.D.? Why did Steve's own principles and who he was not matter to her anymore, as long as she was getting dick? Why did Bucky not matter, being tortured by Hydra for the 70 years she got to get off?

Nevermind, I guess she treated him like shit anyway, even if ideally, the flirtatious little shit Bucky was would have been the best man at Steve's wedding to her, an uncle to her kids, and the best friend that Steve had in his life with her.

Why did Sharon still not matter to her? Nor her other family which she apparently lied to? Why did young Steve not matter enough to tell the truth to? And lie about Alzheimer's no less. Why did she seem to find it fitting to lie to everyone?

Let's continue.

If that's not enough, let's talk about the cry that Steve somehow 'wasn't good enough' for or 'didn't deserve' Peggy when the kiss of Civil War happened.

Okay...

How?

Because if your reasoning for the logic of putting someone down, telling them they are lesser, and 'not good enough' or undeserving of you, is because they choose to 'move on' and not be with you, or choose someone else over you?

You are a terrible person. And I would not want to be the object of your affection.

That is deliberate psychological abuse. And if you tell anyone that sort of thing, just because they don't or can't return your feelings, you are a fucked up person. Fuck you. That is disgusting.

Do not ever tell someone this just because they can't or choose not to love you. Apologize if you ever have, especially to someone you do love. Love is not always an active choice. And this is guilt tripping, manipulating, gaslighting someone into a situation where you put them down for your personal benefit, and that is nasty, unacceptable behavior that no one should tolerate.

Call out someone's own terrible behavior if they are doing something wrong, do not jump to the conclusion that this means the person is worthless. There is a difference. Harmful behaviors can be changed. People can change and get better. We should strive to be better.

However, the aforementioned? That is what psychopaths do to ensure their control over a relationship, run if someone is doing this to you. Find a way to get out of there if you can, because that is fucked up, and no, you deserve better than that. Do not let them belittle you.

And yet, this was... completely glorified by the media, even rewarding someone who committed to this type of behavior. Especially after the fact.

How many articles are there out there that critique Endgame versus those that promote this ending and actively defend it? Giving Disney good press?

But luckily, Atwell only did it with the characters, right? It's only fictional, right?

Yeah, that's why we didn't see Emily in Infinity Wars or Endgame... That's why, even though she'd been hired for a job she had earned, they kept kicking her down the road like a bent, empty can. Worthless and usable, and not a real person at all. Why did they hire her if this had 'always been the plan' as they claimed? To disgust everyone? To make the ending as fucking shitty as it is and have people praise them for it? To publicly embarrass and humiliate her, just because?

The lack of class and just... human decency necessary to commit this kind of behavior is easily seen with a hypothetical comparison, simply with another well beloved actress I will admit might not be a fully fair comparison. But that's because this actress is amazing and not many people compare to her.

But let's take a pause and also consider the actions of Atwell's coworkers, since none of them did quite what she did. None of them... did quite what she did.

You know who else would never do this, even if she'd been playing Peggy Carter and got her show cancelled? Who realistically, wouldn't have gotten her show cancelled because she actually is amazing and would be worth watching, hands down, no complaints.

Sandra Bullock.

And I'd hate to name drop like that or put her on the spot, but just consider it for a moment. Sandy B. as Peggy Carter. Already, beautiful, elegant, amazing, maybe a bit funnier, compassionate, kind, and playing the part of the loving aunt for Sharon perfectly. Even more comic accurate probably! Sandra Bullock would never take time out of her day for any reason, to put down one of her costar's characters and talk trash about this character and the relationship she's in with another character... Ever. Period.

She has class, grace. And she's a truly, genuinely good human being. In fact, I would wager to say, she'd make jokes about it to promote the relationship. As the crazy aunt who's constantly trying to set Steve up with someone new, probably her niece, and embarrassing the shit out of him. And that image is just fucking adorable.

Can you picture it? It's pretty amazing, right?

Now can you really defend Atwell's actions knowing they could have been avoided and a real person, real people, not hurt with them?

I guarantee this ending would have never happened had someone at least like Sandra Bullock been cast as Peggy Carter. Even if she did happen to 'ship' Peggy and Steve more than she did Sharon and Steve. Even if she did 'joke' about it. Especially when there's a point the jokes go too far. And I'd wager to say, she'd even focus more on helping Emily VanCamp, than putting down her character and sicking her pack or rabid bullies on her to try and get her to kill herself.

What the actual fuck has to be wrong with someone to do something like that. Even without giving the direct order.

And sure, maybe fans do ride the crazy train a bit to much. But the least we could expect from Bullock would be a public statement regarding the behavior, and letting fans know that she doesn't condone it and would want them to stop.

I challenge you to find anything along those lines that Atwell could have done. I tried.

And there was nothing.

Let's continue with the character analysis and talk a bit about the implications of this ending.

So far, we know Peggy hated Sharon, her own niece, that she 'owns' Steve and has all rights to his autonomy and decisions, doesn't care about her husband or family if Steve isn't somehow part of it, and would label Steve 'unworthy' of her if he somehow decided he loved someone else. Not just Sharon, but anyone.

Let's also not forget this is a woman who shot at him for having kissed someone else in front of her. When they weren't together. Would you want and choose to date someone who shot at you for doing that?

I mean, I suppose I don't personally know you, maybe you're into some kinky shit. But that doesn't really seem to healthy to me.

Let's talk about little Steve and Erskine, and the promise Steve made to him as well as himself. His character development over the movies and what this ending requires not just of him, but of Peggy too.

From the first movie, we know that even when Steve wasn't capable of doing more, when his body didn't permit him to, he always wanted to do more. Erskine in his dying moment asked him not to forget his heart. The man that would choose to do good above all else. To help those around him that maybe couldn't help themselves. This is an invaluable lesson I think we could all learn from, within our capacities of course.

Bucky even tried to stop Steve from hurting himself, because he worried about him. And then followed him because he admired what the little guy... had always stood for. And against.

“I don't want to hurt anyone. I don't like bullies, I don't care where they're from.”

By the end of the film, Steve has lost someone incredibly dear to him that he grew up with, Bucky, and makes the decision to save thousands of lives that would otherwise be lost over his own personal enjoyment. Because it's the right decision. And he tells Peggy it's his choice. He doesn't hesitate. He doesn't expect to survive, but he keeps his promise to Erskine above all else, and stops Hydra, or so we think.

We later discover Hydra has survived all those years through Zola. Growing in S.H.I.E.L.D., under Peggy's watchful eyes... holding Bucky for all that time.

With the addition of Endgame's Creepy Uncle Theory, that little tidbit of the story, we've been given two interpretations. There's also a lot of lines that lose all meaning, from Steve, Peggy, and Sharon.

“When I see a situation pointed south, I can't ignore it.”

“Sometimes, all we can do is our best, and sometimes the best is the start over.”

“She kept so many secrets, I didn't want her to have one from you.”

“I don't know, the guy who wanted all of that went into the ice 70 years ago, I think someone else came out.”

But let's go back to those interpretations, both of which require someone to suffer on Steve and Peggy's behalf for a minimum of 70 years. Apart from becoming a creepy uncle who apparently had been only using Sharon as a replacement for her. And of course abandoning everyone who loved him just to get laid. This may not be easily seen or understood at first glance. But it is easily explained and should be painfully obvious.

If Steve is present in the main universe that entire time, choosing to do nothing, he has:

Abandoned Sharon.

Abandoned his family, the Avengers.

Abandoned Bucky.

Abandoned the principles he lived by and thrown away promises to all those he held dear. Including his promise to Erskine, who gave him that power to do more to begin with.

Left Hydra undisturbed and even prospering under his beloved wife's organization, allowing people to die and suffer, including Bucky who we know is tortured and in and out of ice for those years.

Be perfectly happy with the sexism, racism, and just general bigotry of the time period. Something that at least comics Steve Rogers has been proven to hate so much, he actively made himself go forward in time permanently, after only saving Bucky, because he couldn't stand it. No amount of Peggy to fix the situation for him. She's also never mattered as much as any other love interest to him. Not even Blind Al, that one's obscure~.

Be perfectly happy to do nothing while a situation is pointed south, even though he has previously stated incapable of doing so? While he knows what will happen or that people are suffering and dying for him and Peggy, what he will do to Sharon, and just completely and utterly not giving a shit.

Huh... Well, none of that sounds 'good'. I guess it also means he completely regrets his decision to save all those lives and sacrifice himself. A decision... I assumed he was the type of person to be able to make more than once if necessary. Because it was who he was. And supposedly, what Peggy even respected him for. I assumed Peggy would have also respected this decision, not backtracked to make him actively do the opposite of this very thing for 70 years. Possibly even... if we're to believe Hydra is allowed to run rampant all those years, potentially thousands of lives to be killed on his behalf instead.

Huh, I guess it was a pointless decision.

“We don't trade lives.”

Right?

And we're supposed to believe Mjolnir, a tool essentially measuring 'selflessness' and humility, purity of heart, 'worthiness', would be perfectly fine with labeling this behavior as 'good' as well.

That just seems like a pipe dream for every sod who can't get laid and has a backwards moral compass, but let's not dive into that.

Despite the fact that he's also abandoning all sense of self and is nothing more than a mindless puppet at this point. Through 'Steve Rogers' choosing this ending... he is actively doing wrong, and knows it. He is actively allowing Hydra to prosper, and... essentially...

Proving Zola right.

“We won, Captain. Your life amounts to your death, a zero sum!”

Familiar now, isn't it? But I guess every message we learned about Steve, in light of everything, in light of Peggy, is meaningless so long as he's... getting laid. Or 'happy'.

That doesn't sound fucked up at all, being perfectly okay with people suffering on your behalf. But I suppose it's no surprise that the people who love Atwell so much and are perfectly okay with her behavior feel the same way...

And here's the thing, I don't think 'Steve Rogers'... the real one in context of his story anyway, would be happy in a setting he needs to let others suffer on his behalf, and ignore their suffering, in order for him to be happy. Looking at his character just over the previous movies, I'd say this would in actuality be literal torment for him.

Spidey gave a perfect rendition that completely embodied everything Steve Rogers stands for and had stood for in those movies.

“When you can do the things that I can, but you don't, and then the bad things happen... They happen because of you...”

What a coincidence. And another important message.

If you actually think a man like Steve, a first responder by nature, who always seeks out the goodness in others and wants to help people, would suddenly sit on his ass and allow people to suffer for him? When he couldn't even do this while too small to make any real impact?

You are delusional. And it is disturbing that you would somehow label that as 'good', as 'cute', as 'healthy', as 'right', as 'true love'. As 'happy' for him.

This is a man, forced into retirement, under the 'guise' of a 'choice', when in reality, it is atrociously horrible writing that disregards anything about who he was and what he stood for. That had he been real, this would have been a disservice to him and is certainly one to every important message the character has, and the history behind him. He would have been stuck in this world. Trapped, and held back from doing anything. By someone who supposedly 'loves' him?

Love doesn't hold people back or hold on possessively like a fucking parasite, it sets people free.

Why would she do that to him? Why would she sit back and assume all of those things are 'okay'? How? Why would anyone want her to??? I thought Peggy was supposed to be a good character inspired by upholding his message. Did she break the vial? Did she keep him in her basement? Did she tell him to sit on his ass and 'look pretty' while she did all the work? A fucking horrible job I might add, if she just lets Hydra run rampant and kill Howard for her sake. How is someone like that admired as a 'good' person?

Nothing about this is 'good'.

This ending is not 'beautiful'. It is a horror story masquerading as something 'pretty'. It is an abuse story being normalized to a vast and unknowing public. At best, a horribly irresponsible message to send the public... and at worst... a reflection of what's wrong with society as a whole. Possibly with ulterior and deliberate intentions.

In order for this ending to happen, Steve Rogers must cut ties with his family and abandon all he loved, loves, lives for, all sense of self... all for Peggy, and solely Peggy's, satisfaction. Seems oddly... familiar to a certain situation his best friend, who seemingly means nothing to him, happened to be in... for 70 years.

Let's reverse the roles. If Steve had been a female to do this for a man's sake? The first thing people would notice is how unhealthy the relationship is. How obsessive it is. How harmful it is. And how disgusting the normalization of it is. In a media that has a far reach and should be so much more fucking responsible with the messages they send their viewers.

Knowing that there are so many sacrifices, ones that shouldn't be made, and that every sacrifice comes from Steve's end, would you willingly call this relationship healthy? Beautiful? 'True love'?

When in reality, they'd only shared one kiss, and never dated?

Yeah. Seems legit.

On the flip side, you have that other interpretation, right? The one where he's in an alternate universe and lets his Peggy live her life with another man, but steals this Peggy both from her future husband and himself.

You'd think it gets better, right? I mean he can fix this universe in full, he might fuck something up and we might consider it a bit irresponsible to play with timelines like that, but he can always just go back if it goes too bad. He's earned it, his shot at this life, still disregarding Sharon and now... a version of himself. A Steve still trapped in the ice. Still suffering on his behalf. While he lives out his life with supposedly this Steve's girl, this Steve's Bucky, and this Steve's entire potential life.

Oh, and apparently this Peggy really doesn't care about the Steve trapped in the ice, since she's also fine with a replacement that's totally different from the one she knew~! That's not weird or fucked up at all.

Leaving him to wake up, alone, in the future having known the life he wanted was knowingly taken by someone else. Someone selfish enough to leave him in the ice. Bucky's alive and safe from Hydra, yay! Apparently... no version from this alternate universe is worth giving the shield to though. So I guess Steve ultimately didn't love these replacements as much. And of course, this is assuming Steve doesn't also just leave this universe as is for everything else terrible to happen.

This is assuming he gives a shit at all. Because if he had?

Tell me why... defrosting the alternate Steve to live out a life with his own Peggy, to at least make sure one of them got that 'happy ending', could still do good, without abandoning anyone, could kick ass, could fix everything in this alternate timeline, maybe even with a few tips from this time traveling Steve, somehow wasn't acceptable compared to 'Steve Rogers' actively and willingly doing, and allowing terrible things to happen, and abandoning everyone else who loved him.

Once again, cut off from his family and replacing them all with clones.

This is supposed to be better?

Did he ever really love Peggy, or just the way she looked since any identical twin happened to work just fine?

Tell me why, if Chris Evans just wanted to stop playing the role, Steve going back for just the dance and asking for Peggy's blessing to marry Sharon, presumably after they'd actually made an effort to develop the relationship, presumably after Peggy has made her peace with loving someone else, and then coming back to not abandon his family or any of his principles or promises he made, or just who he is in general, and proposing to Sharon with Peggy's blessing and understanding, wouldn't have been better and more respectful in all ways?

With the characters, with their history, with their messages. Tell me how it wouldn't have been better to simply have him out of the spotlight and training recruits, but still actively being who he was and doing good somehow couldn't have been acceptable?

There, I can write a better ending than those quack professionals Marvel hired. Simple, easy, done. Where's my fucking job~?

Instead of demolishing every part of who he was, using an anti-bullying character... to reward bullying no less?

Even if Evans wanted to retire or would have made a decision like this, doesn't mean Cap would have ever even remotely done something similar. At least not a good version of him. Upholding the symbolic moral message the character presents would have been easy, but they were too stupid to even try.

Tell me how this ending doesn't disrespect a previous almost 60 years of an established comic relationship, a relationship need I remind in which Sharon was pregnant with Steve's child, one sadly lost, and later shared an adopted son with him. A relationship, that should they disrespect and retcon for Peggy's sake, will only serve to make Steve Rogers seem like a terrible person with no sense of loyalty to a woman he supposedly loved and has spent a good chunk of his life with. As opposed to sharing one kiss or brief romance with. For all intents and purposes, Sharon being his common law wife.

Ironically, the very thing Atwell claimed this relationship did in the MCU, despite the fact that her character only shared a single kiss with Steve, canonically. And she lied and actively manipulated fans into believing it was so much more. When... watch the movies, it wasn't.

Tell me how this ending doesn't disrespect the characters, including Peggy, and the messages they have conveyed, the convictions they've held over the years of their history, and the symbolism which I would argue is much more important, that they represent. Tell me how it doesn't somehow disrespect and belittle Bucky, Erskine, the idea that Howard was Steve's friend, or that any of the people Steve loved actually mattered to him, beyond Peggy.

Beyond getting laid. Because deny it all you want, that is what this ending boils down to. That is the only reason it exists.

Or, actually, I'd wager it also exists to actively squash the importance of the messages the characters convey.

Here's an idea. Johann Schmidt and comics Hydra Cap both have more conviction and loyalty to their cause than EG Cap. And Schmidt post IW/EG arguably causes less harm than EG Cap actively allows to happen right beside himself, because Schmidt is incapable of doing much as the stone's guardian.

And at least Hydra Cap made sense within the context of his storyline.

Prove me wrong.

That's the sort of Cap you have to support to like this ending. Hydra complacent, bigotry complacent, and completely castrated, or at the very least, willing to replace everyone he loves with clones while he takes an alternate Steve's life. Frankly, that's not a Cap I think anyone should support. And I don't think any fans, especially Peggy or Steggy fans should be somehow proud of the fact that this is the sort of 'Steve' that Peggy gets.

I mean... I suppose it is in fact the kind of Steve that sort of Peggy, equally complacent and horrible, would deserve? But that doesn't really stop it from being gross, does it?

Is that really what you'd want as a fan?

I've mentioned that Atwell's alleged behavior is inappropriate, excessive, disturbing. And I'll also mention, this kind of obsession for fictional characters is unhealthy. So why did she do this? Why the behavior at all, why did she go out of her way to essentially hurt Emily, discreetly of course, without people noticing? Why all the manipulation?

Well... it gets worse. And this is certainly where that allegedly becomes very important.

Take a moment to think for a minute about who benefited from this ending and how.

Atwell, most certainly, at Emily's expense of course. At the expense of fans. And an actual well written product we wouldn't get immediate buyer's remorse from. And of course maybe one that doesn't insult our intelligence?

You could assume she simply wanted money. Though somehow... that doesn't really fit. Maybe spotlight? That makes a little more sense, though just as bad. It's seedy, it's spiteful, it's uncomfortably close to a bad Harlequin manga villain. If you've ever read one of those.

They're based off old trashy romance novels if that gives any reference.

Except... what if you replaced every instance of 'Steve, Sharon, and Peggy', with instances of herself and Chris? With the names, 'Chris, Emily, and Hayley'.

Except Emily is happily married now, and can easily identify the difference between a romantic interest in her work, and in real life. Can easily discern a job from her private life. Because that's what a good, stable, actress or actor can easily do.

Suddenly, the situation takes on a very different meaning.

How creepy would that have been for her to do? Along with easily dismissed by the public.

Keep in mind, this is a woman who publicly admitted to, and even in plain view, groping this man, multiple times, without his explicit consent because she 'couldn't help herself'. Okay. Big deal, right? So she touched his 'man boobs' a couple times. He laughed it off, it was all good fun. Why would he complain, it's different, men shouldn't be complaining about being touched without their permission by beautiful women. Despite the fact that they're not, nor have they ever been, in a romantic relationship together.

It's perfectly appropriate for a woman to grope a man as she pleases, whether he is in a relationship with her or even other people, or not. He can't feel uncomfortable because of this, only woman can. Why would he ever be uncomfortable about it, and if he was, he would have said so. He loves her, they're friends!

Let me know if the hypocrisy needed for that logic is falling through the cracks here, because that seems like a dangerous double standard to set.

You shouldn't be allegedly or otherwise, touching or really molesting, in her own words 'groping', anyone publicly and suddenly, especially without their consent. But let's assume he was okay with every single time it had happened. Okay. Sure. Fine. It's his body to decide with who can touch him like that, who can invade his personal space and how, right? And besides, he loves the attention and being objectified by women.

That's clearly why he'll make an effort to actually call out and put people on the spot who pretend to talk to him through a faked photoshopped encounter, right? Clearly why he absolutely hates that.

Now let's assume he wasn't.

Why would he ever admit to that if the response we can expect is that 'he's a man, so he should be okay with it'? As if men somehow don't have a right to their own bodies or can't be sexually harassed and molested, abused, raped, you name it. Objectified maybe? Why would we be suspicious of the behavior or tell someone that it's wrong, without the full story even though it's happening in our plain view?

Playfulness and comfort between friends is one thing, boundaries between them is another, and friends can still cross boundaries they shouldn't. Sometimes they do. Consider the fact of a known straight man and a woman who is attracted to him, and suddenly the implications change. The man, so far, has not shown even remotely the same attraction.

But why would we suspect her behavior would entail anything other than support for her own character that she played, and the ship she was a part of, which had been respectfully written out of the story and made to move on? It's not like she was actively dragging down a woman, a real person, another actress that essentially got in her way, and the part she wanted to play. Kissing Chris Evans.

It's not like she claimed she'd be the best choice for Sharon's actress in blonde wig before Emily was cast. Oh wait...

Was that in that little blog sourcing everything she did and claimed? I can't remember.

And this is all speculation of course. But I think it's very important speculation. And especially, is a reason to be suspicious of everything she did. But I of course can't read her mind, only look at what she did do and what there's proof of. Allegedly.

Seems like an extreme extant to go to to to get an extra kiss from an actor, right? An actor who, mind you, dated other people, not her, and seemed to ultimately choose his dog over anyone. And of course, since we're speculating.

Under the pretense that 'Peggy' gets 'Steve', 'she' got the 'man' that everyone else wanted, right? She lived that fantasy, married him, and had kids with him, and everyone else is just jealous of her. The characters are meant for each other, she can take no blame in what's done with the characters.

Except when encouraging hatred among her fans and negative press for the company and story so long as it doesn't revolve around her.

In this light, looking at the facts, her alleged behavior is extremely creepy.

When you consider the fact that Evans suddenly, and I mean suddenly wanted to quit playing the character, seemingly out of nowhere when just a year before still wanting to do so, and at the same time, he admitted to loving the idea of continuing to play Cap, and even the prospect of doing a movie with Deadpool and Wolverine. Something that would have been brilliant by the way, and I lament that it apparently won't happen every day.

Source

Yes, there is a very special relationship there, read a fucking comic~.

Let's consider the fact that Evans said this about his 'final scene of Endgame'. To sow just a little bit of discord. Of course, there's no guarantee that this scene had anything to do with that one he shared with 'Peggy'. Speculation.

Let's assume it did. Let's go beyond and say, Hayley was the entire reason Evans wanted to quit. The entire reason he wouldn't fight this, and was done playing the character. Let's assume this was the last straw for him, and that he quit just to get away from her.

Allegedly.

Let's assume for just a moment, he was no longer comfortable or happy around this woman. And she was breaking him down. Let's assume he was just tired of all the bullshit, had maybe even seen it for what it really was, was even creeped out. And decided, sure. 'I'll keep my mouth shut... as long as I don't have to deal with her'.

We can also assume he's being... strongarmed into silence somehow, either by the company or by her. Maybe I'm going out on a limb here, but that man hasn't looked the slightest bit happy as of late, and it's noticeable in his interviews. Maybe there's a reason for that. But maybe this idea is pushing it a tad too far, let's take a step back for a moment and remember the simple fact that this is speculation.

Based on alleged actions and circumstantial evidence.

I could absolutely be wrong and I am willing to admit that.

If Chris Evans wanted to call me out on this, correct me about Atwell and her behavior specifically towards him in this regard, I would welcome it. Even if he managed to prove me wrong about the bullying, provide an article or interview of some kind that does in fact prove her innocence, I would be more than happy to take a look at it and retract everything I've mentioned here regarding her, and her behavior. Even delete this post, and publicly apologize to her.

I want to be wrong about this, because it is fucked up, it is creepy, it is something he should not have had to, or have to ever deal with. It is not something Emily should have ever had to deal with, let alone the fans.

Nor is it something that we should simply tolerate and accept from Hayley Atwell. From or towards anyone.

Chris Evans is a human being. Emily VanCamp is a human being. Both of them deserved the utmost respect from Atwell, along with everyone else, neither of them received this from her. Allegedly.

The messages conveyed by that rottenly horrific ending can't even begin to compare to how important this simple fact is.

Real people were hurt. Bullies were rewarded. This should not have happened. We cannot simply allow it to happen now, or in the future. We cannot simply allow more harm to be done, with the continued bullying from that Hydra Support Group I mentioned, and their continued attempts to get Emily fired and Sharon removed from the comics.

That they quite clearly don't give a shit to buy or even read.

Why is this important now, of all times, during a pandemic that is keeping us all indoors with nothing better to do?

Well for one, I'm indoors with nothing better to do than come across bullshit like this. There's also something to be publicly said about female abusers and how important it is that we start to recognize when these situations might be happening. Whether from a man or a woman. And whether to a man, or another woman. If she didn't hurt Chris, she certainly didn't hesitate to hurt Emily.

I have friends... that were living their lives off of the messages Cap taught and inspired in people. Good friends, good people. And maybe it seems silly to linger on something like that, but I can say first hand it is heartbreaking to watch those people get that same inspiration, those same moral messages ripped away, and stolen from them.

And be left struggling with trying to hold on to those messages, but try as they may, not being able to. And then come a few epiphanies, a few discoveries.

This shit. The bullying. The behavior, the fact that we as fans were given a normalized abusive relationship, and told it was somehow good, somehow just, somehow right. That that's the message we are being given in place of everything else...

I had a friend have a panic attack because of this ending, after she tried to rationalize that it was okay, that it was 'sweet', and 'cute', and understandable. Because it hit a little too fucking close to home for her, and now she just relives that, remembers it with almost any part of what her favorite thing in the world was. And that is horrifying to know...

“I helped support this. I gave them money. I dedicated years of my life to following this.”

And it goes so much more beyond regretting that decision. It goes so much more beyond being able to simply move on and somehow keep those symbols, or at least the core messages beyond them and disassociate them from the characters when you can't escape reminders of it. When you can see so incredibly clearly what it really means, what really happened, and everyone else around you just accepts that something so fundamentally wrong is something right.

Here's a question, can you sue a company that's so profoundly built an empire, so embedded itself into your day to day life that you can't escape a personal trauma being reminded of it in something you paid for and actively support for years from this company? Does that count as some form of being publicly irresponsible and projecting harmful ideologies?

Is that something someone can do, or is it just something a 'Karen' would do? Would the sheer evil it takes to become that type of person, to dawn that haircut and demand to speak to a manager be worth it in the end?

“What did it cost?”

“Everything...”

Yeah, it really fucking did.

Oh hey, by the way. Hayley Atwell is definitely a Karen. Just thought I might point that out. Why else would she throw a massive tantrum to get someone bullied out of a franchise because she's not getting her way or the spotlight on her? She's just an evolved one.

Allegedly.

I am all for people policing their own content and being respectful of creators, and understanding that fiction is different from reality. Not every concept will be stomachable or enjoyable by absolutely everyone. Horror in itself is a perfect example of that, especially psychological horror.

I can also say without a doubt that I hate knowing that the people I care about are so heavily affected by something they had initially used to make themselves a better person, that should remain fictional and symbolic but just somehow forces itself to go beyond that.

I hate knowing a corporation could be so irresponsible that this is the message they get billions of dollars for, that this is what they give to the public, that this lack of care or even noticing what they've done and who they've rewarded, and the continued behavior...

The bullying, and despite every piece of criticism screaming at them just how fucked up this is.

But no, they can't take two fucking seconds, to think 'maybe we made a bad move and shouldn't stick by this considering what it's done or is doing to fans'. 'Maybe we should be more responsible with the power and influence we happen to have'...

Except they knew.

“It might end the whole franchise.”

What kind of context am I supposed to imagine for those words. Especially in light of a franchise that had a multitude of plans to continue.

What the fuck does that mean?

And isn't that the most piss soaked cherry on top of this shit cake?

Hayley's words in the interview represent how little she cared about the character, about the franchise, about the fans, or the messages conveyed, as long as she got what she wanted.

And she did.

Publicly... adored... psychopath.

Allegedly.

Cap's core message is something so incredibly vital, I believe, to this world. Especially in these times. Especially when it comes to making progress.

“Doesn't matter what the press says. Doesn't matter what the politicians or the mobs say. Doesn't matter if the whole country decides that something wrong is something right. This nation was founded on one principle above all else: the requirement that we stand up for what we believe, no matter the odds or the consequences. When the mob and the press and the whole world tell you to move, your job is to plant yourself like a tree beside the river of truth, and tell the whole world –"No, you move."”

Especially in a world that will actively tell and show us that human lives aren't worth a dime a fucking dozen to the people we let control our world. Especially when we should be telling these same people.

“No, fuck you, that's wrong.”

And yeah, that fucking sucks. It fucking sucks to have family that is vulnerable to something potentially deadly, to be vulnerable to it, and have no control over that. It fucking sucks to know people you may trust will not even give a shit. And it is fucking hard to keep hope when everything around you just seems to be falling apart.

And you can't do a damn thing.

But this message teaches us just that. To not lose hope. To not lose faith. To keep fighting for what we believe in, and make things better. Isn't that the whole point of criticism? Challenging ideas, beliefs, so that we can discern right from wrong and have a better understanding of what that might be? So that we can improve? What a hell of time it would be to have this message with us. What a hell of a time for us to need this message, now more than anything... and not have it.

What a hell of a time for someone to willingly quit portraying and sending that message... Though I can't say I'd blame him, he's only human, it's a heavy burden to bear, and if Atwell really did do all of this just to kiss him... Allegedly.

Well, I'd wanna get away from her too. Provided it was willing at all. I get mixed signals from that guy. And trust him about as far as I can throw him. I am a weak bitch, so that is not very far... But... professional liar, so.

He could also be the world's biggest troll, cause I don't believe for a second he didn't know how fans would react to this. Which... biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitch. But also, RESPECT.

And also, BITCH! Be serious for a goddamn second, this is fucking important!

But this message also teaches rebellion.

What a hell of a message to publicly squander in order to keep people complacent, for the sake of pretending someone gets a 'happy' horrific ending, finally getting laid. Like neither of those things were something that couldn't be found in the future while still preserving the legacy of the character.

Right?

Ironically, it was a message they had helped to represent with Sharon, and still there's the issue of her and fans being publicly bullied and disrespected, once again, a real person, people, for Atwell's sake.

If we only surround ourselves by those that tell us what we want to hear, rather than the truth, we can only stagnate our growth.

If we only care when we are finally forced to face the problems evident, can we really call ourselves virtuous?

If we do nothing knowing something is wrong, what does this say about us?

I'm just as guilty in not noticing these sorts of things as they happen until it's too late, but I'd like to hope I'm getting better and paying more attention, and that we can still do better.

What's the point of all this, and what can we do?

As I said before, I do not want to cause harm. I do not want people to go and harass anyone for alleged wrong doings or behavior of any sort. I do not want people to lose entire jobs or livelihoods over this. But it is clear something is wrong, and we certainly need to right it. I also don't believe any of the parties involved are somehow beyond redemption. Even Hayley.

If Marvel had any sense, especially now, they would retcon this, however necessary, first off. They don't even need Evans to do that, they can do something as simple as making a comic that undoes this nasty ending and saves Cap, and the other characters, from being made into an empty shell and castrated version of himself. Or at least make a solid plan to and very publicly apologize to Emily for the situation and discourage such behavior among their fandom. Hayley would do the same, not just to fans but especially to Emily, and maybe even Chris.

If you ever participated in this behavior and now understand that it was wrong, I would encourage you to go give Emily your love and support and apologize to her for this mess and what she had to deal with on behalf of fans. She deserved far better. She still deserves better.

If Hayley refused to acknowledge or even publicly address this? Or Marvel, Disney for that matter, well it would just go to show that they'd want it all swept under the rug instead of being held accountable for what happened. Something that's certainly a disrespect to Walt Disney , as he was able to make amends and admit to his mistakes publicly, and it's a stain on the legacy he left behind that the current Disney can hardly be bothered to.

And yes, believe it or not, there's a way to not let them do this without aggressive harassment.

My first suggestion is meme the shit out of it. Be an absolute troll and make a joke of this giant fucking joke of a company that can't even put two and two together for basic story elements. To an extant that will publicly embarrass them for sure, be relentless, but don't send hate.

Just show everyone the clowns they are~.

I've been told this can also be a bit mean though. And clearly, we can't simply let them forget it or forget it ourselves.

The second, ask questions. Simply ask for this to be addressed, try to get it noticed as best you can. Send them this across as many platforms as you can to as many people as you can. Or even just the smaller blogs I linked. Repost, reblog, and share this as much as you can and make it something they can't ignore without sending them direct hate and harassment. Copy and paste or just send a link to this in a concerned email to the corporation. Make sure their offices are absolutely buzzing with the news. Ask, don't demand, your favorite MCU actors to publicly speak out about this, please. Keep asking until you get some sort of response.

Without being rude.

Because it may take time, it may take effort, but it is important, and it certainly should be addressed. And never allowed to happen again.

As for Atwell and her bullies?

Well, first let me congratulate her.

She played herself. All those jokes about turning Peggy into a supervillain and that's exactly what she did. With her own wants and desires, not Peggy's.

But otherwise be kind, be courteous, and hold your grace and elegance. Treat her with the same respect you would want for yourself and do not stoop to her or their level. Do not insult her. Ask her, 'what's wrong'? Ask her why she did this, if she's okay. Ask her to stop, to speak out about it, to address the situation and to understand why she didn't do it sooner. Ask her if she's seeking help for whatever psychological issues she may have that would push her to do something like this, wish her well, and tell her you hope she finds the help she needs and learns that what she did was wrong. Let her know you're disappointed if you're a fan.

She definitely shouldn't be allowed to keep relishing in the reward and aftermath of what she did, and she definitely owes Emily, and possibly Chris, an apology for all the bullshit she encouraged and did. Her behavior, allegedly, is fucking creepy.

But she's still a human being, behaviors are correctable.

Simply address the fact that it was wrong and ask her if she understands that. Also maybe that... public molestation isn't okay? Allegedly.

Do the same for her bullies, if they are rude to you, simply tell them:

'Oh... you support Hydra... you're entitled to your opinion, but I'll have to disagree.'

And leave it at that. Just take comfort in the fact that you can recognize an abusive relationship and don't support it. You cannot force them to change their minds if they don't want to, do not antagonize them or potentially bring harm to yourself by doing so. And yes, that is admittedly a bit mean, a bit trollish~, and the reality is they probably don't support Hydra... But they also kinda have to to support this ending somehow.

The writers 'confirmed' Hydra Trash Party as canon while the directors 'confirmed' everyone in Steve's life being replaceable.

And he still becomes a creepy uncle while someone needs to suffer on his behalf for 70 years.

Fantastic~! I'm accepting neither and I give you no money until it's fixed! Because it's gross~!

If this situation is addressed by everyone involved, and any allegations and speculations I've made are in fact proven true, but let's say Atwell still publicly refuses to admit to anything she did or apologize to Emily. Even if Disney does. Well, she'll be proving exactly what type of person we suspect her to be. And only then would I consider it acceptable for the company to completely erase her from the franchise in turn and blacklist her from what they produce. Some people might consider that too nice, I think it's reasonable, you're free to disagree.

Not necessarily her character though, Peggy has actually done nothing wrong on her own, she's a fictional character best represented by good writers, and malleable according to that. And I would certainly even encourage much better character explorations and portrayals of her. But Hayley herself, who would then become pretty much a poster child for harassment and bullying, and defending psychopathic behaviors...

Allegedly.

If people try to silence you, ignore you, keep trying, keep spreading the message, keep going as much as you can, until we manage to get this addressed and the situation finally corrected.

Do not support the company, or actress that refuses to address this. Do not support people that do terrible things without holding them accountable. Do not allow them to simply get away with it, but do not lose your own humanity for their sake.

I know first hand how fucking hard it is not to lose your shit when shit like this happens. And nobody notices. But I guarantee, throwing a fit of rage will get nothing done, and they will try to use it against you.

If they manage to prove me wrong in any regards? Great! I will be fucking overjoyed! I hate the idea that evil is actively happening in the world and people do nothing about it, don't you?

And a friendly reminder.

You are not in anyway required to purchase anything from Marvel, any of the actual bullshit content and harmful ideas they refuse to take any criticism or responsibility for. You are not obligated to them just because you are a fan, and you do not owe them anything. If they want our money, they can earn it, but you can definitely get your fixes of good creative content elsewhere, and even support other artists. If this is what they provide, you do not have to support them. You can make your own. For free. And enjoy what others make for free. For any and all people part of an intricate creative community, fan fiction does not just have to be trashy romance or gay ass ships. That is a huge chunk of it, I won't even bother lying about that, I'm under no illusions otherwise.

But it can also be just simple storylines based off what canons you like, simple fan comics that maybe present a different sort of story arc you aren't seeing developed and wonder where you might go with it. It can be action, scifi, fantasy, horror. It can be any sort of fusion that you would enjoy. It can even be insanely good or horrendously bad! It can even be original fiction! And yes, you're more than allowed to publicly critique and parody the work these companies sell you, go write ahead~, and make a point of making something better. Because you can.

Or it can be shipping wars and nonsensical shit and trashy romance and smut. Again, no illusions that there's not a whole lot of that shit.

Or crack. Lots of crack fic.

But the beauty of it is that it's up to you. And you don't owe anyone anything because everything you get to make is free. But keep in mind that goes both ways in this aspect. For you and others, and I'd wager to say there are a lot of writers out there that can definitely do these characters and their messages a much better justice than the disservice and disrespect Marvel has given them and the fans. Especially as of late.

Lastly, especially in these times... do not lose hope.

Do not lose faith in the message Steve Rogers stands for, or in the hopes things may get better. For all of us. And for the character? That he may just yet be saved from quite plainly, all the bullshit. That any of your favorite characters might be given better treatment down the line. And if not?

Save 'em yourself. Make it better yourself. And make it known, no matter what happens, no matter what they do, these messages can't be squandered or destroyed. Hold them dear, and don't accept anything less than them being upheld, no matter how it's represented.

Particularly when you're paying for it. Don't harass small time writers that write self indulgent bullshit for free. Just police your content accordingly, please.

But the message?

That's what's important.

In conclusion?

'Logan' was the better movie. Hayley turned Peggy into 'Monika' of Doki Doki Literature Club. And Chris Evans chose his dog.

“I don't like bullies... I don't care where they're from.”

;)

[enigma-im]

He Was a Satyr Boy

 Rating: Explicit Relationship: Satyr X Female!Human Warning: Fluff, Respecting boundaries, Penetration, Satyr and human relationship, Critical Role mentioned, timid or shy characters

Word Count: 8604

A shy Satyr catches the interest of the cute comic book store girl

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Today is slower than usual. Generally, comic book stores aren't super busy on a workday but today was especially boring. I've gotten all my work done around noon leaving several more hours of my shift left to fuck about. I lean against the glass counter near the register and look over the empty store. I huff and try to entertain myself by reading the posters around the room for the hundredth time.

Reading the green lantern motto for the 6th time I'm ecstatic to hear the chime of the front door. Looking over I see a satyr walk in. I immediately notice his antlers protruding from his curly brown hair. He is a skinny man, not particularly tall. Might be the same height as me if I were to guess. An inch or two taller. He is sort of cute, not my normal type but still eye candy. Especially wearing a fitted hoodie and loose pants. He has a softness to him, a gentle aura.

I don't call out to him, welcoming him to the store. I just watch as he shoves his hands into his pouch then looks around way too much. As he walks further inside he catches my eye. He gives a curt nod then walks around with his head down. I watch as he paces through each aisle before stopping at the books. He skims through them and picks out two. He cradles them close to his side then makes his way to the register. Only briefly glancing at me he sets the items on the counter.

"This all," I ask. He glances up and nods.

"Yes, this is all. I don't have money for more, your stuff is expensive," he sort of rambles. Edge of my lips quirks at him. I scan his items and wait on him to either pull out a card or cash. He fumbles with his pockets to his loose pants and pulls out a wallet. He produces a card and swipes it to the machine.

He pays and a receipt prints. I push the books to him and hand him the paper. He doesn't say anything as I pass him his things. He takes them quietly and nods before heading to the door.

"Have a nice day," I surprise myself by calling out. It seems to have startled him too. He looks over and gives a nervous smile.

"You too." With that, he leaves. I watch till the door closes, a little captivated by his departure. When I finally look away to the now empty store I hardly notice to half-smile gracing my face.

I'm a little confused to see him the next day around the same time. The store is a little more full, normal for a Tuesday since there is a sale going on for comic books. Perhaps that's why he is back? I try not to pay him any mind as I ring up people but I can't stop glancing at him curiously. He wonders around the store, catching eyes with me a few times. This piques my interest even more.

I barely listen to the man rambling on and on about god knows what. I give him a few nods but couldn't care less. I keep glancing over his shoulder at the nervous satyr browsing the store. I'm not sure why I'm so inquisitive but he is keeping my attention. Perhaps its why he is back after saying he had no money. Or the fact he isn't even looking at the comics that are on sale. What could he possibly need?

I lose focus on him when someone comes up with a question.

"Do you guys have any captain marvel comics," a stout woman asks.

"Far-right wall, under the popular section," I point behind her. I hope this is the end of the conversation but sadly it isn't.

"Oh. Can you show me, I didn't see it over there," she gives an apologetic smile. I look over at the satyr, then back at her.

"Yea, come on," I walk from around the counter. I lead her to the right wall. She keeps asking questions even when I found the box for her. She draws on so long my coworker works the register and checks out the satyr. I see he bought another DnD book, Just the one. He leaves before I even get back to the counter.

I don't see him the next day, hardly surprised. I actually don't think about him, having no reason to. My fascination is but a product of boredom mixed with seeing someone so cute. I've never seen him before, knowing most of the people around the town. It's rare to see someone new and even more rare to see them two days in a row. Still, it seems he is gone now.

I think as such till I see him Thursday. I don't notice anyone walked in as I clean the glass countertop. It isn't until he sets his item down beside me that I acknowledge him. I give him a confused look for a second, wondering what he is doing back here.

"Hi," he curtly smiles, "I forgot the monster guide." I look from him to the book, another DnD guide.

I look back up at him," so you did." He nods as I grab the book. I scan it and prepare the machine for him to pay. I watch him pull out his wallet, I felt the need to fill the silence.

"You know we hold campaigns here every Thursday night," I cock a brow at him. He seems to startle before staring back.

"Oh," he tilts his head. His hair brushes over his forehead and the corners of my mouth quirk.

"They are run by Steven who set it all up, anyone is welcome. Starts tonight around 7, if your interested," I inform.

"Oh, thanks but I don't think that would be good for me. I'm busy around then but thank you. I appreciate you telling me. I guess you figure from all the books I've bought that id be playing this but it's just to read. I don't actually play, I've just been watching a campaign online. I wanted to follow along, you know," he rambles. I don't feel like interrupting, just resting my elbow on the counter. "It's a good show, very funny. I don't know if you have heard of it, but you might have. Its a bunch of voice actors playing DnD, so they get to use their acting skills to bring the characters to life. It's super neat," he continues.

"Critical role?" I cock a brow.

He grins widely, "yea, do you watch it?"

I tilt my head and regard him," not really." He deflates, it almost makes me wanna lie just to get him to ramble some more.

"Well, it's worth a listen. Even if it's super long," he collects his book off the counter," well ill see you around. Bye." I wave then he turns and walks out. I watch him the entire time, huffing in amusement when his antlers scratch against the door.

I stand back up with a little smile, "what an adorable man."

I stay a bit after, organizing some of the figurines in the displays. I know I'm sticking around just to see if he shows up, I'm not going to convince myself otherwise. I'm also not surprised to see he doesn't show up. Which is fine, it was a bit last minute so I can't expect him to not have plans.

It is a surprise when he shows up next week.

The week was slow and I hardly thought of the cute satyr. I noticed he hasn't been back since last Thursday but that was the extent of my thoughts. By Wednesday I've forgotten him, mostly.

Thursday night comes and I'm sorting through the comics for ones that don’t belong. I hear the gang setting up near the back. Getting the table together and their items out. I finger through the thin booklets, pulling out any that wasn’t Batman. I lose focus when I hear the bell at the front door. I look up and chuckle when I see the satyr. I stop what I'm doing and head over. Noticing immediately that he was fidgeting. He was looking around a lot and bouncing from leg to leg. He stops when he catches my eye.

"Hey, I'm sorry, I was a little confused about where the campaign takes place. I looked on the website and it said that it happens in the store, which is what you said, but I don’t know where in here it is and I didn’t want to just walk on in and wander around," he nervously laughs," it is tonight right?"

 my lips quirk," Yes." I won't elaborate, seeing if he will talk some more.

"Oh, good," he looks behind me then back at me," I've been looking through the books. Good reads, it's so elaborate. Still, it’s a lot to learn. I tried to do a crash course on them last Thursday but I was too worried id make a fool of myself. So that’s why I didn’t show up, I didn’t want to be the one asking all the questions. It would take away from the fun of everyone else. I mean I still might ask questions, there is a lot to learn. I hope that no one minds a newbie joining. I really studied, which sounds weird to study for a hobby, but I was nervous. You know, I might actually just watch, or come back later. I don’t want to take the fun from everyone else." I listen to his ramblings, cocking a brow as he tries to talk himself into leaving. Deciding to help him out I step beside him so we are both facing the room. I notice that he is just an inch or so taller than me.

"Come on," I nudge his shoulder then walk ahead. He startles but follows along, keeping his hands in his hoodie pockets. I smirk to myself as I lead him to the back. Once we turn the corner the patrons perk up. All of them looking towards us curious. I glance over at the satyr and see he is hiding in himself. Bunching his shoulders and ducking his head into his jacket. I nearly coo at the sight.

"Who's this," Steve asks with a friendly smile. I don’t answer but nudge the Satyr to speak up. He jumps, staring over at me shocked before looking back at the group.

"Uh, I'm Jensen," he nods in greeting," hello." I quirk a smile at the greeting. Jensen.

"Well, howdy there Jensen. What brings you to our little hobble," Carley asks before anyone else could. Jensen looks from her then back to me. I nod towards the group as encouragement.

"I'm here for the, uh, campaign," he nearly stutters. I find myself taking a step closer to the poor lad. Matt notices and passes me a glance, raising a brow. I pay him no mind and wait for Jensen to join the group.

"Well that’s great, we always have room for another traveler," Steven shouts jovially," please come sit." I look from the gang to Jensen, content with his wide grin. He walks forward and takes a seat between Matt and Steven. I take one more look at the lads before turning to leave.

"Would you like to join," Carley calls. I turn to face them, the words 'no' ready on my lips. I'm a bit surprised to see Jensen practically begging me with his eyes. Watching me with bated breath for my answer. I'm still ready with the 'no' but looking at him makes me want to change my mind.

I have never played with the group, having been invited nearly every night. I generally have things to do and rather get home quickly once they finish up. It's not like I have anything pressing at home, I just rather be there. I begin to doubt my choice, near caving just to get to spend time with the nervous Jensen.

"Ok," I answer shortly. I nearly smile when I see Jensen's little grin. He has a cute smile.

"Really," Matt tilts his head. I don’t answer but walk towards the table. I grab a chair from the wall and sit on the opposite end of Steve. I look at the three's suspicious faces, knowing they are probably trying to figure out any reason why I'd choose now to join. Of course, the genius bunch looks towards Jensen and piece together their own theories. I'm not above admitting it, I want to hang out with him. He is cute and I find his rambling adorable. Depending on how tonight goes I may develop a crush.

The night goes alright, everyone was boisterous and engaged. Everyone seemed to have fun, including me. Jensen was shy at the start but grew into his own as everyone kept him included. I appreciated that. I didn’t want to be the only one trying to keep him out of his shell. Id hates to look over and see him cave into himself with nerves.

Around two hours later the gang packs up and says their goodbyes. I walk away before they could start interrogating me, getting started on the work I put off. Once I hear the chime of the bell I head back over to the table, startling when I see Jensen still packing up. I grin to myself and head over, sitting across from him.

He looks up and smiles," Hey." I nod in greeting," man those guys are so nice. The woman, Carley was it, she gave me some of her dice. They look so cool, got a holo look to it. Reminds me of opals, it's so cool." he holds the 20-sided die up and rotates it back and forth. Showing off the rainbow reflection on it.

"So ill take it you had fun," I cross my arms and lean back in the chair. I smile at him, feeling his own grin to be contagious. He looks from the die back to me, his toothy grin making me feel gushy.

"Yea, it was so grand. Steven has such an imagination on him, this wasn’t what I expected at all," he leans onto the table with his elbows," I can't wait to come back and partake in whatever the next adventure will be. I might try being a sorcerer next time. That is if we are allowed to change our characters. I like mine right now but I do wanna experience the other classes. Does he do different campaigns every time?" 

"Yes," I nod.

"That’s great! I'm so glad I came, I was so nervous that I paced around my apartment before coming here. I figured since I just moved here it wouldn’t hurt to make some friends but I was nervous mostly for that reason, not knowing anyone. It helped that I know you, I was really banking on you being here. If you weren't I would have probably walked out," he nervous laughs, looking at the table," also thanks for joining, I could tell it isn't something you usually do."

"No problem, it was fun," I answer honestly.

We chat for a little longer before I have to shut down the store. He leaves shortly before, promising he will be back next week. I find myself getting a little giddy at the idea of seeing him again. Tonight went well, I think I can confidently say I have a crush on him.

He visits twice before Thursday, one of the days I heard from Matt when he was the one working. The day I got to see him was nice, we chatted a bit before it got busy and he left. Along with his two visits, I've been getting the 2nd degree from Matt.

"So you like him," he cocks a brow as he lounges against the counter. I shrug noncommittedly, knowing it's going to rowel him up. He drops his head back and groans at my non-answer," Don’t give me that. I don’t know the last time you were interested in someone, I've only heard stories of your past boyfriends. The tall hunky lads with more muscles than sense. So excuse me for wanting to boy talk with you." I pass him a glance, debating on being a prude with my thoughts. It was none of matt's business on who I liked and didn’t like. Still, I'd admit that the idea of gossiping is tempting.

"Yes, I have a thing for him," I bite my cheek to stop from smiling. I don’t need him poking fun just yet. He startles at my words, perhaps shocked I even said anything.

He twists around and leans his elbows on the table," I was just teasing before, I didn’t think you actually wanted him. He is so not part of your portfolio, he is so timid and lithe. Hard contrast to your previous interest." I pass him a cheeky grin while pretending to read the magazine in front of me.

"He is cute, and I think his ramblings are adorable," I answer. Matt deadpans at me, not really getting what I'm saying.

"You like his ramblings? What happened to the woman who dated big bulky men, hell the last dude I heard you dated was an orc. Like how would you go from something that big to someone like Jensen," he tilts his head trying to catch my eye. I glance at him but continue to look at the pages.

"I just like him, not everything has to be dissected and viewed from every angle. I think he is cute and I enjoy his company," I answer bluntly. Not everything has to be over analyzed to its basic form. I don’t have to uproot my childhood to figure out why I find Jensen so attractive. I just do, and that’s ok.

Matt doesn’t like my answers but he leaves me alone after another five minutes of arguing.

Thursday comes quickly to my joy. The gang sets up and Jensen shows up shortly after they do. I watch him walk from the door straight to the back, resting his bag on the table as he too sets up. I stay in the corner, finishing up my work. I'm content on just sitting this one out, but of course, if he asks I can't say no.

"Where is she," Jensen asks as he looks around.

Steven looks up at him," she is working. She generally doesn’t contribute to these things."

"Oh," Jensen looks dejected. I actually feel bad for having to work. I guess if I rush I could come over for a little. I bite my cheek as I try to figure out anything I could close early.

Around an hour later I make some time, skipping out on stocking for the night. I can just do it tomorrow anyway. I step around the bookshelf and watch the table from the sidelines. Listening to Steven paint the picture, then the gang reacting. I watch Jensen for a bit, smiling a little as I see the enjoyment on his face.

I startle when Carley calls outs," You just going to stand there or you going to sit down?" Everyone turns to me, only Steven turns back to the table.

"Oh hey," Jensen grins," Come, sit." he pulls out the chair next to him. I walk over and take the offered seat, not missing Matt's big smile.

I spend the next hour listening to and watching their game. Keeping quiet on the sidelines just enjoying their jovial behaviors. The mission comes to an end, leaving on a happy note. I stretch and get up before the others could begin packing. I wave to the group and go back to closing.

I count out the register as Jensen stops by the counter," Hi." I finish off the set of ones and give him a friendly smile.

"Hi," I say back.

"Watcha doing," he rests his elbows on the counter.

"Counting out the drawer, make sure I'm not missing anything," I answer as I count out the twenties.

"Are you the manager here or owner," he asks. I get what he is doing, trying to start up a conversation. I appreciate the company, so I answer.

"I'm technically a manager, but it feels like I'm the owner most of the time," I shuffled up all the money and places them back in the drawer.

"Why is that," he watches as I close out the register.

"I do everything here. I make the calls, stock the store, fix the store, advertise for the store. I think the owner just wanted to own a comic book store but not actually run one," I walk around the counter and to the backroom. Jensen follows, staying at the door when we get to the office. He keeps me company as I deal with the paperwork of the day. Dealing with return receipts and new stock.

The night feels like it goes by quickly, probably Jensen to blame for that. He is nice to talk to. Once he comes out of his shell he is funny. Still rambles but it's with fewer nerves and more just enjoyment of the topic. I finished up my work about twenty minutes ago but I didn’t want to send him away just yet. I'm content listening to him talk about his job as a Graphic Designer. He seems to be very passionate about it, grinning widely as he talks.

The conversation starts to die down as we both begin to yawn. I look over at the clock and see we are forty-minute past close. We both decide its time to leave. I walk him to the door and he waits for me as I lock up. I turn back to him and prepare for goodbye.

"Well, today was nice. Thanks for chatting with me, I didn’t mean to make you stay so late. I know I tend to talk too much, I get it can be a little annoying so don’t be scared to tell me to shut up," he tries to laugh but it’s a little self-deprecating. I watch him for a minute, probably making him feel uncomfortable.

I find myself sputtering out the first thing that came to mind," Do you wanna go out sometime?"

He startles, "What?"

"Do you," I point to him," Want to go out with me," I point to myself. He still seems lost.

"Uh," he short circuits, not really getting what I'm saying. He looks uncomfortable and I can't lie, it hurts a little.

"Hey, you don’t have to. It's ok if you don’t," I try to give him an out.

He shakes from his stupor, "No, I want to. I'm just a bit shocked."

 I regard him curious," Shocked? Why?"

"well," he rubs the back of his neck," its just-because- you know."

I smile," No I don't think I do know."

"Its cause- because," he huffs," Because you are you. The super hot comic store girl. I didn’t think you would like me." I can't stop my chuckle. I've never had a guy assume I wasn’t into them, especially when I feel I've been obvious.

"Well, I do. So would you like to see a movie this weekend," I try again since he never really answered.

"yea," he grins widely," I'd love to."

I give Jensen my number and tell him to write. We depart with dorky grins on our faces, leaving for our respective homes.

The weekend comes quick and I meet Jensen at the store. We walk together in a bit of awkward silence. I can basically feel his tension rolling off him. I can't help but try to think of ways to relax him, make him feel comfortable. So I ask him about his job and he takes the in. This seems to work until we make it to the theater. when we go to sit his tension rise again. I try to keep the conversation going but when the movie starts its harder to keep him calm.

I watch him out the corner of my eye the entire film. He fidgets his hand in his lap, not really focusing on the movie. I feel bad he cant enjoy this. I'm running out of things to try, so I go for broke and grab his hand. I interlock my fingers with his and rest them on the armrest. His grip is a bit tight so I rub my thumb to his skin in an attempt to calm him down. Surprisingly it works, he loosens his grip with a sigh. He gives me a quick squeeze then leans back in his seat. I go for broke again when I lay my head on his shoulder. He jumps but doesn’t do anything to push me away. I will take the win.

The movie ends and it wasn’t that great. Probably should have picked a better one. Still, I had fun, only because it was with Jensen. After we got up he grabs my hand again and we walked out together. It was sweet, which is something I never had with my exes. They were a bunch of dumb jocks looking for their next nut. It was fine at the time because I wasn’t expecting much but it was unfulfilling. This, with Jensen, feels good.

We walk back to the store where we chat under the awning. With a brief hug, we part ways, making plans on the phone for another date. I sit in bed that night smiling like an idiot, not wanting to put the phone down till I nearly pass out on my own.

We go on a few more dates after that, nothing getting too intimate besides a kiss on the cheek. We see movies, go out for dinner or go to one of our places to cook. Then every Thursday we talk for hours, even texting once we got home. I like him a lot.

One day while talking at the store he kisses me. I'm startled when it happens, he gets embarrassed and tries to back away. I don’t let him get far and kiss him. Since then the relationship has gotten more intimate. Spending dates snobbing anywhere private like a pair of teenagers. He shocked the gang one night when he kisses me hello. They all had their guesses but we never gave them answers. Since then they have taken to picking fun of us, trying their best to get us to blush. Of course, I was a little harder to crack than Jensen. Still, it was cute to see him get all flustered. Sometimes I joined in on the teasing and give a big kiss to his cheek.

As much touching as we have done we never have gotten around to discussing sex. It was becoming more prominent as some make out sessions left us both a bit bothered. He never initiated anything so I didn’t push, it was fine. But one night while we are sitting on my bed talking he surprises me.

We lounge on my bed looking through his phone at videos he saved. One thing leads to another and we start making out. I have my fingers buried in his soft curly hair, my other hand petting over his chest. I want to badly run it under his shirt, feel his skin on mine. I don’t try to push my luck, wanting him to take the leap.

His fingers clench at my hips making my insides burn. He hesitates in the kiss, but not stopping as his hands play with the hem of my shirt. He slides them under my shirt, gliding them over my hips up to my waist. I find myself gasping and leaning back. Our breath mingles together as I wait for his next move. I can feel his finger shake as he tries to move up but he can't bring himself to do it. I resume petting over his chest, leaning up and kissing his cheek. Telling him in actions that it's ok to go on.

He gains some of his nerves and smooths his hand over my skin. Petting and groping up to my bra. His breath stutters as his thumb timidly traces over the fabric. His breathing stops when he hooks a finger underneath, sliding over till his index touches my boob. He sucks in a gasp, pausing his hand as he catches his breath. I continue kissing his neck and petting his hair. Giving him all the time he needs.

Jensen rests his head against mine before moving to cup my chest. He sighs, tickling my head with his breath. His palms are warm against me, if not a little sweaty. He gropes softly, rubbing his thumb over my hardening nipple.

"so soft," he mumbles to himself. I peck his neck in answer. He continues to grope and squeeze, content in just this for the time being.

Soon he leans back and tugs at my shirt. Asking with his eyes if I could take it off. I don’t even hesitate, I lean back and pull the clothing off. I throw it onto the floor. When I look back at Jensen I nearly laugh, he is captivated by my nearly bare torso. I grin at him as I lead his hands back to me, hinting at him to take my bra off on his own. He catches on and fumbles to unhook the back. He manages well and helps pry the straps off my arms. He tosses the bra off the bed and doesn’t take his eyes off me. He reaches for my chest, watching as his fingers rub my nipples. I leave him to go at his own pace, sighing at the sensations of his hands. He surprises me by leaning down and taking me into his mouth. I choke on my words as his tongue swirls over my bud. I pet along his head, tugging softly on his hair when he sucks on me.

He laves attention on both sides, taking his time to both enjoy and make sure I enjoy it. I feel the all too familiar weight in my stomach, my crotch throbbing with need. I know better than to force anything but its starting to get hard too. I'm happy when he takes another step, pushing me back and crawling over me. He leans down and captures my lips, giving a rather fierce kiss. He continues to cup my chest with one hand, seeming to not be able to get enough. I press my luck and slide one of my hands down his chest, sliding under his shirt and feeling his warm stomach. He gasps into the kiss but doesn’t react. I continue moving up, pulling up his shirt as I go. He lets me, even leaning back to take the clothing off himself.

Once the article is removed he smiles down at me before kissing me again. I return the kiss but turn away so I can get a good look at his newly revealed torso. He pecks down my neck as I pet along his chest. I go up to his shoulders then going slowly down over his pecks, rubbing his nipples as I go past. He licks over my neck before sucking on my skin. I gasp with a grin then trace my nails over his stomach. I chuckle when he sucks in a breath, his stomach clenching as I near his pants.

He stops his assault on my neck, waiting patiently for my next move. I reach over his hips, sliding into his pants as I do. I feel his soft fur, raking my fingers through it as I pet his hips. He rests his head against my neck, watching my hand between us. His antlers rake against the headboard but neither of us pays it any mind. I cautiously run my hands towards his front, keeping my pace deliberately slow in case he wants me to stop. He doesn’t react, perhaps not even breathing as I reach towards his cock.

When my fingers are finally touching him we both jump. His antlers thud against the wood startling me. I pause my hands near his dick. He takes a minute to catch his breath before leaning down and pecking my shoulder. I take that as a sign to continue. I reach down and wrap my fingers around him. I hold him then wait for any signs he wants to stop. His breathing is shallow and rushed, his posture tense. Still, he kisses my shoulder, nuzzling his face to my neck.

I stroke him in a loose grip, enjoying the feeling of his hard cock. He is a well-hung satyr, staying on par with a lot of my exes. He is thick but perhaps averagely long. He is warm and I can feel something wet running down from his tip. I'm curious what he would taste like.

Getting too caught up in the feel of him I don’t notice his whimpers. For a moment I think they are good till he lifts his head away from me. I look at him from the corner of my eye, stopping my motions on him. His eyes are clenched and his breath is still shallow. It doesn’t come out even but in ragged, scared patterns. He looks more than a little nervous.

Without much thought, I retract my hands from his pants. Petting up his stomach and chest to his neck. I tilt his head towards me and give him a peck on the lips. He squints open his eyes, I finally get to see the fear in them. That decides it.

I roll him off me and lay him on his back. He follows without a fight, looking at me curiously and worried. I give him a smile before reaching for my blanket and throwing it over us. I lean over to my nightstand and grab the tv remote. I lay down beside Jensen, laying my head on his chest. I rest my hand on his stomach then turn the tv on.

He doesn’t say anything as I boot up YouTube. He is still breathing hard but he has rested his hand on my naked back. I pull up my unfinished video then fully rest against Jensen. The video plays and I can feel him perk up when he realizes what we are watching. I've been watching Critical Role so we had more to talk about, its not a bad show but its so long.

Soon Jensen relaxes and watches the show. At some point, he started petting my back and holding my hand on his stomach.

"Thank you," he mumbles. I turn my head and look up at him. He adjusts and looks down at me. He looks calmer now, if not a little content. I hum in acknowledgment and kiss his chest. He hums too with a relaxed smile on his face. We turn back and watch the show.

We never say anything about what happened, it being pretty self-explanatory. He wasn’t ready, and that’s fine. We soon fall asleep half-naked in each other's arms. It’s a peaceful rest, best night sleep I've had in a while. 

I wake up the next morning to the feeling of something repeatedly touching my face. I squint my eyes open as I feel something wet against my nose. I first see Jensen smiling at me. He leans down and places another kiss to my cheek then to my chin.

"Morning," he mumbles as he kisses my lips. I hum into the kiss, happy to return it full. I sit up and cup his face as we make out. It’s a bit sloppy for a morning kiss but ill take it. He reaches over and pets over my back, his cold hand causing chills over my spine. I gasp into the kiss making him smile.

He surprises me by sitting up and pulling me over his lap. I balance myself by holding his shoulders. The coldness of the room makes me shiver as I remember my lack of a top. Of course, Jensen doesn’t seem to mind as he slides his hands up my thighs, over my hips, on my stomach to my chest. He watches his hands as they cup me. He pinches at my nipples, smiling when I suck in a breath. He leans forward and begins kissing up my collar. Trailing licks and nibbles over to my neck then jaw. He drops his hands to my hips and grinds me down onto his hard cock. I startle at the suddenness, curious if not pleased with the turn of events. What a way to wake up.

Using whatever bravado he has gotten this morning he grabs my ass and squeezes. He huffs against my neck as he bucks up to my crotch.

"You seem excitable this morning," I gasp near his ear.

"I have a wonderful woman in my arms, what's there not to be excited about," he chuckles. I laugh with him before grinding my hips to his, relishing his groans. We go back to making out but this time he reaches between us and cups my crotch. I startle, sucking in a breath as he fingers me through my pants. He pets me a few times but decides it isn't enough. He slides his hand into my pants and touches me directly. Petting along my slit then diving his fingers inside.

"Very excitable," I gasp. He leans back against the headboard and watches me. Having a pleased grin on his face. A better look than last night. I can't help but lazily smile back, happy that he is comfortable.

His fingers pump and curl inside me, testing out every bump and crevice to see which makes me groan and gasp. I enjoy this different side of him, his smirk is all the more arousing. He adjusts his hold and gets his thumb to rest over my clit, giving timid circles. I try not to grind with him, not wanting this to end so soon. Just enjoying the soft strokes and pumping fingers. His other hand pets over my thigh, everything moving slow. He takes his time, just looking pleased to watch me.

I look down at his chest, my hands following my gaze. I feel his chest rising and falling quickly, his heart pounding at his chest. His face is calm despite his rushing blood and hard cock poking my ass. My fingers trace over his stomach and down to his pants. I feel the tufts of fur poking up, the happy trail disappearing behind his bottoms. As I play with his pants he slows his motions then removing his hand altogether. His face is focused but still calm. He rests both of his hands on my thighs, not moving or giving any indication of what he is feeling.

I hook my finger on his pants while keeping eye contact. I cock a brow in question. His lips quirk slightly, his emotions very different than last night. He nods his head while petting up my thighs a bit, fingers twitching with hidden nerves.

I sit up off him and pull his pants down to his knees, keeping his boxers on. I can't help but smirk at the tent in his underwear, feeling a little confident because of it. I reach for his bottoms but look up at him again, just making sure.

"I trust you," he mumbles while giving a nod. I grin like an idiot, feeling butterflies in my stomach. I hook my fingers to his boxers, brushing my nails against his skin. I pull them down just enough for his cock to spring out, slapping back against his stomach. I suck in a gasp, feeling a wave of arousal flow over my cunt.

"Oh," I gasp. I stare at his swollen member, appreciating its girth. His tip is red and wet, his shaft presenting a lovely prominent vein. I can barely see his balls, just seeing the curly hair flowing under his underwear. Using a finger I push his bottoms down more, brushing against his sack. He jumps at the contact, making me snap my eyes to him. He is chewing on his cheek, seeming a bit nervous. Not nervous like before but a little self-conscious.

He catches my worried look," I'm fine, just… you are staring."  he looks away still chewing his cheek, his fingers fidgeting at his sides. I want to coo but I know it will embarrass him. Instead, I lean forward, my stomach brushing against his cock, and kiss his cheek.

I whisper near his ear," you just look so good, I kind of want a taste." his shoulders drop as his head thumps against the headboard. He clenches his eyes and groans.

"God," he drops his head to his shoulders," maybe later." I lean back to look him in the eyes but he is still tilted away from me. So I grab his antlers, guiding his head back to me.

I cock a brow," later?" he stares at me a bit wide-eyed, worried he said the wrong thing. To ease his tension I lean forward a peck him on the lips," I like the sound of that." he smiles. I take his lips for mine again, introducing my tongue to his mouth. He meets mine as his hands grab my hips. As our tongues mingle I reach between us and timidly grab his cock, worried he will reject me again. Not that I'm bitter about last night, I understand. It's just going to hurt the second time.

He gasps into the kiss, his fingers holding me a bit harder, but he doesn’t stop me. I grip him a little tighter and pump. Feeling the bumps and grooves of his cock, squeezing a bit at the tip. I feel his pre coat my palm, smearing it over his head then the top of his shaft. He bucks into my grip while forcing his tongue into my mouth. His hand reaches to the hem of my pants, reaching in and fingering my clit.

We touch each other, grinding into the other's hand as our tongues intertwine. Our gasps and groans feed each other's wants and desires. I feel on the cusp, my finish nearing because of his fingers. Yet I don’t want him to do it just yet, I want to cum on his cock.

I lean back from the kiss, stopping my hands. His fingers curiously stop, he watches me for my next move. I remove his hand from my pants, nearly whimpering at the loss. I sit up and shimmy out of my pants. He catches on and helps me remove the clothing before tossing them to the side. I rest back on his lap, my cunt sitting at the bottom of his dick. He looks at me with wonder and eagerness.

Curious, I grind my pussy over him, spreading my slick over his shaft. His head drops back as he groans. I watch him with a smile as I repeat. Grinding over him, feeling his warmth partially part my folds. His back arcs as he pushes his chest out.

"Please," he whimpers," let me be inside." I look at his hooded eyes, them begging me along with his words. I nod before sitting up and hovering over him. I look between us, grabbing his cock. I stroke him once or twice then positioning his tip to my entrance. I let just his tip slip in, my insides practically burning with the need. Still, before I can give in to my greed I check to make sure he is ok. I refuse to use him, he means too much for me to do to him what I did to my exes. He isn't just a body to me.

Our eyes meet, his hooded gaze is locked onto mine. He looks like he is in divine torture, biting his lips just waiting with bated breath. He passes a quick glance to where we are about to meet then looks back up at me. He nods once, telling me what I needed to know. Without preamble I drop down on him, taking his cock quickly.

We both cry out as we meet, sitting flush on his lap. I take a second to enjoy the stuffed feeling, resting my palms on his stomach. I watch as his head drops to his shoulder, his eyes clenching as he bares his teeth. I pet over his stomach, giving him a moment to catch his breath.

"Tight," he whimpers as he looks at me. I huff with a big smile. He grins at me as well, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

We sit there for a second as he catches his breath, I wait for his cue. It doesn’t take long for him to raise his hands and cup my hips. He grabs me and grinds me into him. We both suck in a breath, then he does it again. I get the idea and circle him, listening to his sharp breaths and tiny whimpers. I introduce a few short thrusts, using my thighs to lift myself. I watch as his eyes flutter close, his lips parting in a sigh. I ride him, using my hands to balance myself as I lift higher.

I set a fair pace, bouncing on him while gyrating my hips. I stroke over his stomach to his chest, feeling his racing heart. Watching his face contort in pleasure, each fall causing his mouth to part just a little more. I soon lean forward and kiss his cheek. Giving soft kisses under his eye then near his nose. He startles me when he wraps his arms around me. He sits up and begins to give shallow thrust upwards.

My breathing starts to get harder, panting near his ear as our bodies meet. I grind myself into his stomach, my clit stroking over his fur. I groan at the image of his fur flattening from my slick. I start to whimper against him as I feel my pleasure begin to peak. I rest my cheek against him, petting up his chest to his neck. I card my fingers through his hair, just barely touching his antlers. I squeeze my eyes shut as his cries increase my own. His noises spurring me on more.

"God, you feel too good," he pants. I can’t speak now, I just nod. I focus on the feel of his cock sliding in and out of me. Stroking my walls and reaching deep inside. I cry out louder on his next thrust, tugging his hair as I follow my peak.

I don’t have time to warn him before I'm clenching around him. I stop my falls as my legs give out. He chokes on a gasp, grunting into my neck. I feel some drool drip onto my shoulder as he bucks into my convulsing cunt. I slide my fingers up and grasp at his antlers, clenching them in a white grip. I cry with each thrust, falling apart over him. I barely notice when he stills suddenly, feeling something warm and hot inside myself. He lets out a long groan, bucking once or twice more.

He takes a moment to catch his breath, as do I. he holds me close, adjusting to relax his head to my chest. I still grip his horn tightly but I pet his back as I try to even out my breathing.

"Thank you," he still huffs.

"Don’t thank me for that," I laugh," I had fun too." he kisses my sternum as he too chuckles.

"Not that, but thank you for that too," he sits up, not before nuzzling one more time to my boob. He rests his head against the backboard and looks up at me with a fulfilled smile. "Thank you for giving me time," he clarifies. His hands slide down to my waist and keep me close. I stare down at him feeling happy. There is no other way to say it, I'm just happy.

"of course," I pet some hair out of his face," I wanted our first time to be comfortable."

"Most people wouldn’t have stopped," he nuzzles against my hand. Pressing a kiss to my palm.

"Then most people are awful," I joke," I couldn’t use you like that."

"And that why you are so wonderful. Even when it looked like my body wanted it you knew me well enough to see I wasn’t ready and for that I thank you," he leans up and kisses me. It's slow and wet, if not a little lazy. It's nice.

"I love you, Jensen," I find myself mumbling to his lips. He sits back abruptly with eyes wide. I watch him cautiously, feeling the heavyweight of panic in my stomach. Before I could say anything he buries his face to my neck, grinning widely against my skin.

"Aw," he coos," you don’t understand how terrific it is to hear you say that." the panic evaporates quickly and is replaced with a gushy feeling. I rub my cheek to his head, my forehead hitting his antlers. I can't stop smiling or blushing as he rubs his nose and continues to coo. "You beautiful woman, I love you so much," he kisses my cheek," Love you when you joined me in my first campaign. Love you when you held my hand at the movies, relaxing me when I was a nervous wreck. And I love you most when you didn’t force me last night, I will love you forever because you are just too wonderful." I hide my face to his shoulder as he peppers my face with kisses.

"stop," I laugh," my face is going to catch on fire at this rate."

"How can I stop? The cute girl from the comic book store loves me! I never thought id even get the guts to talk to you let alone have sex with you," he rubs his nose near my eye. His grin is wide and his heart still beats wild. I try to fight my smile but it comes out anyway. My teeth showing as my lips curl from ear to ear.

"I thought you were cute when I first saw you too, I wanted you then and now," I kiss his cheek. He shutters and slumps on me.

"You are going to make my heart burst," he mumbles near my ear," first you are kind to me last night, then you are watching Critical Role for me. Next you get me to trust you so much that we make love. And you tell me that you like my stupid awkwardness! God, you are too much." I nearly get teary-eyed at his words, making me feel like a saint when all I did was care about him. I definitely love this timid satyr.

"Do you work today," I wrap my arms around his shoulder. He slides his hands around my waist and hugs me close.

"No. Do you?"

"No," I kiss his neck," would you like to spend the day in bed?"

"I'd love nothing more," he quickly flips us over. I laugh as he settles above me with a big smile. He looks down between us and kicks off his bottoms. Quickly he catches my eye again and cocks a brow in question. I can't help but laugh before grabbing his face and kissing him again.

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PSA: you can withdraw consent at anytime. This is for both genders. just because a girl is wet, doesnt mean she is ready or willing. Just because a boy is hard, doesnt mean he is ready or willing. communication is important and No means No.

On that note, I really wanted to write a story where the guy wasnt ready. its always the girl not ready to take the leap but it happens to guys too. they arent always the cumbrains we mistake them for. sometimes they need time to trust and open up to a person.

Archive | Main Blog | Critical Role YT Page

[kenzieam]

Not You - Chapter One

@jewels2876​​​​​​  @moonbeambucky​​​​​  @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​​​​​​  @iammarylastar​​​​​​@captstefanbrandt​​​​​​  @badassbaker​​​​​​  @pinknerdpanda​​​​​​  

I know I’m forgetting people, sorry. If you want in, hit me.

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Rating: M

Warnings: Language, general nuttiness, smut, major angst, drama, potential infidelity

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FEEDBACK IS LIFE, Y’ALL

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So... I know I should be finishing my old stories...

But I’m not, lol. I keep getting new ideas.

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In this one, Bucky finds his dream woman, the one who takes his breath away but what if she’s already taken? What’s more important, your own happiness or the happiness of others, namely your friends? And, if you have to steal it, was it yours to begin with??

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Bucky turned away from the sink, nearly dropping the glass in his hand as his heart exploded into a frantic, startled tattoo.

The girl met his eyes shyly, looking quickly away and Bucky swallowed hard, hearing his pulse hammering in his veins. “Can I help you?” He asked, voice raspy. Christ, in all the time he’d been tending bar he’d never been so simply struck by someone before.

“Um, may I have a white wine, please?” Her voice was soft and cultured, sounding faintly European in the way she pronounced her consonants.

“New around here?” He inquired, if simply to keep from gaping at her simple perfection.

She gave him a guarded smile. “I guess so. I’m supposed to be meeting an… old friend, but there was a mix-up with flights.”

Bucky poured her drink, waved off her money. “On the house,” he pronounced and, this being the fourth double shift he’d worked this week as a favour to his boss and a co-worker with a family emergency, they’d better not squawk going over the receipts later.

“Thank you.” She murmured demurely, lids fluttering closed as she took a sip.

Bucky glanced across the bar, there was no one needing his immediate attention and the siren song of this woman was too strong to ignore. “I’m James.” Somehow his nickname wouldn’t fit the moment, he thought as he extended his hand to her.

She smiled softly, still shy. “Valentina.” She offered after a faint pause, reaching up and taking his hand, he felt her softness against his callouses, a faint tingle where they touched.

Bucky opened his mouth to continue, to ask her more questions about herself, an ember of attraction beginning to glow brightly in his chest. Did she feel it too?

“Hey!” One of the waitresses, Teagan, bellowed from down the bar. “I need four beers!”

It was on the tip of Bucky’s tongue to tell her to come around and grab them herself, but Teagan was a brat who’d either make a mess or take a bottle for herself if he didn’t watch her. Why the boss hadn’t skidded her by now was anyone’s guess, but Bucky imagined it involved a good oral game. At least she’d propositioned him at least once and he’d said hell no.

With an apologetic glance Bucky turned away, quickly filling Teagan’s order but then a crush of orders came in from individuals bellying up to the bar and he was tied up for far longer than he wanted. Finally, he had time and stepped in front of her, noting her empty glass. Valentina was texting, frowning at her screen. She glanced up and startled, an unguarded smile lighting up her face and making Bucky’s heart stutter anew.

“Another?” He managed to ask, voice cracking. Jesus, he’d never been so simply taken by a woman before and he’d spent enough time as a bartender to read her body language too. The feeling was definitely mutual.

“I’ll just have a water, please. My… friend will be done work soon; I should get going.”

Faint panic gripped Bucky’s heart but he made himself pour a water like a sane person. “I, um….” He licked his lips.

“I need an order!” The other waitress, a cougar named Lola, yelled. She would never go behind the bar, preferring to trying to chat up the nearest guy while she waited for Bucky.

Shit. He needed more time.

“I… can I have your number?” He blurted, feeling like a thousand different kinds of fool, mainly a lovestruck one.

Surprise flitted across the girl’s face, then a tentative smile. “I shouldn’t…”

“Please?”

“Hey!” Both Teagan and Lola were there now, hands on jutted-out hips.

“Just give me a minute.” Bucky pleaded, turning away from Valentina and rushing over, mixing drinks like a madman, throwing furious glances at the waitresses, who snapped gum and stared vapidly at his manic movements.

Finally, he thrust the last glass at Teagan then turned back to Valentina, an apology dying on his lips.

She wasn’t there.

He’d missed his chance.

Fuck.

********************************************************************************

Her skin was unbelievably soft, her scent a heady mix that made his pulse race and nestled deep in his soul. His body responded to her readily, heart hammering in his chest as he caressed her shoulder, pulled her down to meet his greedy lips. She moaned and writhed against him, grinding her core against his painfully hard cock.

Peeling off her shirt he kissed first one breast than the other, slowing down to lav attention to each when she moaned again, fingers clawing through his hair to hold him close.

“More, god Bucky-” she whimpered, tugging almost painfully at his locks.

“Fuck-” drawing out the curse, morphing it with a groan of need, Bucky rolled, pinning Valentina beneath him. Grinding his hips to hers he reveled in her gasp, her stuttered hitching breath.

He couldn’t wait any longer, pulling at her panties, a feral growl spilling from his lips when she matched him, yanking at his jeans, pushing them down over his ass just enough to free his cock and then he was pushing inside her, into her sweet heat and fighting off his rushing climax at the ecstasy found there.

“God, baby-” he gasped, hips thrusting helplessly, hopelessly caught in sensations and pleasure. Never before had he felt such bliss, been so ensnared in the web of a woman.

Valentina moaned, arching up to pull him deeper, legs wrapping around his hips, tangling with his jeans still bunched there; her voice broke as she whimpered his name, clawing at his face to pull him down to her mouth again, her desperate kiss stealing his breath with it’s intensity.

He could feel his orgasm rising dangerously fast, but he didn’t care, couldn’t and wouldn’t stop such a freight train of heavenly sensations, he only wanted Valentina to crash into the abyss with him.

And then she tensed, walls tightening around him as her own climax hit, crying out his name and dragging him right down with her. With a roar he surrendered, giving into his release with a shudder, face twisting as his cock throbbed almost painfully inside her, spilling his seed in thick pulses-

Bucky startled awake with a gasp, hand still gripping his shaft, the waves of his powerful orgasm still crashing over him and, even as the shudders of pleasure skated across his skin and through his body he winced, feeling a thick, creamy mess pooling on his belly.

Jesus Christ.

He hadn’t had a fucking wet dream in years, and yet ten minutes contact over a bar-top with a beautiful stranger had him spilling in his sleep like a teenager.

Groaning, he glanced down at himself then cursed. Fuck, he had laundry to do now too, he hadn’t shot so huge a load in a long time; fuck, this woman had him all sorts of tangled up.

And all he had was her first name. Not even a goddamn phone number.

Still grumbling, still wincing and cursing himself, Bucky rolled from the bed, used the already soiled sheet to wipe his belly clean then pulled them from the bed and piling them in the corner to launder later, storming nude to the bathroom he and Steve shared in their two-bedroom apartment, not caring whether his oldest friend got an eyeful or not.

Only once the water grew cold from the scalding he’d set it at did Bucky emerge, toweling off and striding back to his room to pull on sweats and grab a coffee. Steve had set some brewing before leaving for his morning run and Bucky needed a hit of caffeine like he needed air.

He’d just taken a sip when the front door opened and Steve walked in, glistening with sweat and still breathing hard.

“Morning,” Bucky grunted.

“Hey, Buck. How’s your morning?”

Trust me punk, you don’t want to know. “Fine.”

“Got to sleep in at least, that your last double shift for a while? What was that anyway, four in a row?” Steve moved past him, pouring an ice water from the fridge, and swallowing half the glass in one go.

Bucky grunted in answer, but Steve had always been the more loquacious of their duo.

“Work tonight?” Steve continued, reaching for a box of cereal.

“Nah, night off.”

“Good, Sam wants us to come over. His girlfriend’s moved back, and he wants us to meet her.”

Bucky frowned, trying to remember. While he was friends with Sam, it was Steve who worked with him and was the closer of the two. Then he remembered, she’d grown up with Sam, gone all through grade school with him, just like him and Steve, and they’d been roommates all through university, also like him and Steve. Apparently, they’d started dating after graduation and, when she’d been offered a special project in Europe almost two years ago, they’d gone long-distance, her moving across the ocean and Sam moving here, becoming immediate friends with Steve when they started working at the same job together.

“What’s her name again?” Bucky asked, not really caring. His mind was still stuck on the mysterious Valentina, not on Sam’s girlfriend, whom he wouldn’t even know from a hole in the ground, he’d never even seen a picture of her before.

“Lev?” Steve replied, quirking a brow. “Something unique like that, yeah… Lev, Sam calls her Levi.” He pronounced it like ‘levee’, shrugging.

Bucky nodded absently, Valentina’s hypnotizing violet eyes holding his attention. God, she’d had the most beautiful eyes, slightly upturned at the corners, long and full lashes; and her hair, an auburn shade like he’d never encountered. Either natural or the best damn dye job he’d ever seen, she’d stood out from the crowd with her looks alone, not even counting the magnetism and aura she gave off…. Christ, he was in trouble.

“You there?” Steve’s amused voice broke in, his punch harmlessly bouncing off Bucky’s powerful shoulder.

“Huh?” Bucky rolled his shoulders, shrugging off the hit. He hadn’t had much of a chance to hit the gym this week, what with working so many doubles in a row, and he needed to go; blasting away all his frustrations and anger lifting weights and hammering at the heavy bags kept him level and calm, soothed the latent edginess of his soul, which had, upon reflection, gone strangely serene last night when he’d laid eyes on Valentina too.

“You’re a million miles away, jerk.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry. Just-” he broke off, wiping his mouth with his hand and shaking his head.

“A girl?” There was genuine interest in Steve’s voice; while he didn’t begrudge his oldest friend’s continued one-night stands, he’d always wanted Bucky to find someone to share himself with, someone to soothe the man’s seeming natural-born vulnerability and loneliness that not even close friendships could compensate for.

Bucky felt a thrill at the thought. Yes, this was about a girl. The first time he could honestly say that. His reddening face answered before his mouth could and Steve hooted, slapping him on the same shoulder he’d just punched.

“Really?” The blonde’s eyes were sparkling. “Tell me.” He snagged the milk from the fridge and poured some over his cereal, overfilling it in a way that always made Bucky nervous. The man’s milk to cereal ratio was whack.

Bucky hesitated, struck with the sudden incongruous thought that speaking her name aloud would somehow puncture the spell, convince the universe to rip her away, make her all a figment of Bucky’s imagination.

“Her name’s Valentina.” He couldn’t help a quirk of his lips when Steve let out a girlish squeak and clapped his hands, as if this were the best news he’d heard in years.

“And?” He prompted, leaning against the counter, picking up his bowl of cereal and lifting the spoon to his mouth, brow raised in question.

Bucky let out his breath in a rush, not able to hold it back anymore. “And she’s fucking perfect, man. I mean, I saw her, and it was like… fuck, I mean she just… grabbed me.”

“Like literally?” Steve grinned, milk dribbling off his chin when he gave Bucky a smartass grin.

Bucky rolled his eyes and continued. “No, but Steve…. Her eyes, Jesus, and her smile? I… I didn’t know what to do, it was like I’d just ran into a brick wall or something.”

“And her? What was she like? Was she hit too?”

Bucky nodded slowly, replaying her actions in his head. “Yeah, I think so.” A huge grin split his face and he was suddenly struck with the urge to throw his head back and roar.

“What’d she say? Did you guys talk?”

Bucky shrugged. “We didn’t get much of a chance, I had Teagan and Lola last night-” he threw Steve a look because Steve knew as well as Bucky how useless both waitresses truly were.

“Bummer.”

“Yeah. I asked for her number but then got busy and… fuck man, when I turned back, she was gone.”

“Shitty.” Steve commented, shaking his head.

“I know.” Bucky felt a moment of real panic but forced himself to breathe.

“You want to skip Sam’s tonight? Go over there and see if she comes back?”

He was torn, he really was. Would she be back? For all their pretend animosity, Sam was a real friend to him though, and he hadn’t seen the smirking bastard in a few weeks, he needed to go. “Nah, I should go see Sam, it’s been awhile.”

Steve noticed his struggle and considered. “Chap working today?”

“Yeah,” Bucky replied.

“Ask him to keep an eye out. If she shows, he can give her your number. He owes you.”

He did. “Yeah…. Okay. I got a bunch of errands to run today anyway, I’ll stop by.”

“You want me to wait until you’re back to go to Sam’s?”

Bucky shrugged, they only lived a floor apart, Sam being one down from them, its not like Bucky would get lost, but he appreciated his friend’s consideration. “Yeah, thanks.”

“No problem. I got a few things to wrap up too, see you later?” Steve had finished his cereal and was already walking towards his bedroom. He and Steve had been roommates, in one apartment or another, for years but this was far and away the nicest, a pre-war building neither would be able to afford alone and, until a few months ago, Sam had been in the same boat, but his roomie, a quirky, somewhat eccentric kid named Tony, had left. It was good timing that his girlfriend was moving back now, almost fated.

“Later.” Bucky called, then forced his mind away from Valentina. He’d get nothing done today if he let her stay there.

*******************************************************************************

Later that night, Bucky followed Steve absently down the flight of stairs to Sam’s floor. He’d gotten all his errands done, convinced Chap to keep an eye out and had even had time to fantasize about Valentina in the shower, groaning her name in release as he’d stroked himself to completion, pulsing his thick seed onto his fingers and the shower floor. He’d leaned his head against the tiled wall, breathing heavily and wishing feverishly for the real thing before straightening with a growl and finishing his shower, body still aching with want.

Steve knocked and waited; usually they’d just knock once and head on it, but neither wanted to walk into something they didn’t want to see.

After a moment, the door was thrown open and Sam’s familiar face split into a huge grin. “Hey!” Always a happy, personable guy, there seemed to be an extra level in him tonight, no doubt finally having his girl back with him. “Sit down,” he pointed to their usual perches on the couch and armchair. “Lev will be right out.” He focused on Bucky. “How you been, man? It’s been a while. Steve says you’ve been pulling doubles down at the bar?”

“Yeah,” Bucky answered, leaning back in the chair, and getting more comfortable. “Chap’s mom fell down and banged herself up some, I took his shifts so he could go help her for a few days.”

“You’re too nice, man.” Sam grinned, shaking his head. “Steve said Teagan and Lola were there? Christ, what a pair.”

Bucky quirked his brow in agreement. “Yeah, it was special all right.”

“Sam?” A female voice called.

“Yeah, baby?” Sam leapt to his feet. “Lev’s pretty jet-lagged, she was sleeping most of the day.” He explained as he disappeared down the hallway. Quiet voices too low to make out floated back but Bucky caught something that sounded like ‘you look fine, baby girl, before Sam reappeared, his huge grin back. He glanced over his shoulder, pulling gently on someone’s hand, then turned back to his friends.

“Steve, Bucky, this is my girlfriend, Lev. Lev, this is Steve and that’s Bucky.” He pointed to each man in turn, but Bucky’s eyes were locked on Lev.

What the hell?

What kind of cosmic fucking joke was this??

Leaning into Sam’s side, nestled into his one-armed embrace but staring at Bucky with shock equal to his, was a heartbreakingly familiar face.

Valentina.

[tisthedamnstark]

And whatever they lose, they rediscover (Stony Angst)

Read on AO3

It's a little known fact that at fifteen, Tony Stark was a gifted poet. The combination of his genius mind and his complicated teenage emotions made him an able writer, collecting and polishing words like a machine he has to restore.

Now, Tony writes again, standing in the ashes of the Avengers fever dream.

OR

Set after Civil War, Tony writes a poem for Steve when all he has left is a burner phone, broken promises and a stubborn ember of hope.

cap breaks promises. "we'll lose" in that second, every ounce of trust released unbound willing to believe whatever he says in return. "then we'll do that together too".

Tony remembers, vividly, that time when Steve promised to be there. The time when he swore, half unspoken, that no matter how catastrophic the loss, he would stay by Tony's side.

He can still feel the rush of relief, the band aid on his ageing heart when he believed he had Steve. The feeling of being wanted and trusted is burned so strongly onto his very being that he still dreams about it- even now. Standing in the ashes of the Avengers fever dream. Surveying the wreckage of his naivety.

A little part of him still believes. Tony is fully aware that he poured expensive alcohol on a flame and expected it to flicker and die, when deep down he knew that it would burn brighter than before.

One day, he thinks it was a Sunday, Peter came into the tower unexpectedly and, well. It wasn't a pretty sight, as Tony was (impressively) both drunk and hungover.

He took one look at his wasted mentor and pulled out his phone, frantically typing something.

"Hey kid," Tony slurred, "don't go telling on me. Not cool."

"I'm not busting you Mr Stark, it's, uh, your life I guess?" Peter scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, "It just reminded me of a meme I saw. Um... this one!"

Peter handed Tony the phone, saying "This is you, Mr Stark, seriously."

The meme was a yellow dog in a room on fire, sat at a table with a mug. There was a speech bubble saying 'This is fine.'

Before Tony could respond indignantly, Peter took the phone back and said he was heading into the lab to work on the web formula. Waving him off, Tony sat back into the chair holding his glass of whiskey contemplatively.

"Damn kid." He muttered, "If only he knew how spot on that analogy was."

After that, Tony drank less, which was good. Unfortunately, he also decided that a good replacement for his poisonous drink was something toxic to inhale instead.

It had been a long time since Tony had smoked like this. Sure, he enjoyed a cigarette now and then, but he kicked the habit in his early twenties.

So, to say Rhodey was surprised to see his friend chainsmoking on the balcony was an understatement.

"You gonna talk about it, Tones?" He asked softly, without judgement.

"Not a chance." Tony scoffed, taking a particularly long drag.

"Hand me one then. I'll keep you company."

The pair spent almost two hours in a comfortable silence, the only sounds from the traffic below and the occasional click of the lighter.

When Rhodey got up to leave, he placed one hand on Tony's shoulder and said "Don't break yourself over this."

Tony heard the footsteps of his best friend fade, and wondered if he'd ever open up again. Ever trust again.

Tony remembers the time when Steve promised to be there. He wonders how delusional he must have been to have seen love in those eyes.

spoken so strongly you're compelled to believe. they lost. but they lost to eachother. promises twisted and poisoned and still promises. indescript phone. indescribable promise. "whatever it takes" he promised. his promises shouldn't mean anything now; no trust. liar.

Sitting at his desk, his eyes linger on the phone Steve left him when he, well, left him. Ran off with his childhood friend because he never truly loved-

Tony quickly cuts off that train of thought, forcing it back into the darkest corner of his mind, refusing to face reality. He returns his attention to the computer, to the document full of false starts and cliché concepts.

It's a little known fact that at fifteen, Tony Stark was a gifted poet. The combination of his genius mind and his complicated teenage emotions made him an able writer, collecting and polishing words like a machine he has to restore.

When his parents died, he felt the violent roar of grief, simultaneously overwhelming his mind and numbing his emotions to the point where he was so changed that he couldn't do it anymore.

Words that once flowed smoothly like clockwork ground to a bitter halt, depriving Tony of his last healthy outlet. Thinking nothing of it in the haze, he tucked his notebook away and reached for the whiskey.

The decades passed and it was almost as if the recent events revived the poetic voice in him; maybe two wrongs do make a right.

Deciding to change tack, Tony closed the document and reached for a pen and paper.

It was if someone had ripped open a faucet, everything that wouldn't type poured out onto the page. The poem was a mess, a formless chunk of angry, brutal, beautiful sentences that expressed everything he wanted it to.

He reread what he wrote with a more critical eye, reshaping the raw emotions into palatable English, harshly critiquing his rusty wording.

When Tony was satisfied, he folded the page in half and tucked it into the locked drawer of the desk.

Three weeks later, with a cigarette in his hand and a determined expression, he pulled out the burner phone and typed it all out into a text message. (It had been a while since he used an old-fashioned keypad, so that took longer than he would care to admit.)

Wondering if he would regret this, he quickly added a short line at the bottom:

"you asked to read my poetry a couple of years ago. i didn't like that idea. you taught me that we don't always get what we want, or even what we thought we already had. -ts"

Trying not to tremble, he sent off the message, praying that the phone really would contact Steve.

Without the luxury of read receipts, Tony went to bed troubled that night, silently begging the universe to give him a break for once in his life.

The universe, unsurprisingly, didn't reply.

yet somehow despite the pain, despite the loss, there's always more to gain in him. and whatever they lose they rediscover and it burns even brighter than it did before. hurts even deeper than it did before. they love even harder than they could before.

Tony, despite his current pessimism, hates bad endings. His life seems to deal him those cards constantly and unrepentantly, ending everything painfully and pairing them with beginnings that were so beautiful he couldn't bear to ignore them.

There was Yinsen, a saviour before he even spoke a word to Tony. He knows he owes his life to the man, and that debt shall remain unfulfilled until the day he himself drops. Tony tries to believe that death was truly what his companion wanted.

Obadiah was the caring father figure that Tony desperately needed, until his jealousy got the better of him and he went from supportive to unplugging the life support. Tony cursed the man who invented greed.

These circumstances are what made losing Steve so jarring. Somehow, Tony had convinced himself that his boyfriend loved him and would never leave him behind, but... it turns out even Captain America was a bastard.

"I'm so done with bad end-"

A shrill, tinny noise comes from the burner phone. On autopilot, Tony reaches for it and answers in a split second.

"Steve?"

There was a huff of breath and a pause.

"I read your poem, Tony."

Tony hadn't noticed how much he missed Steve despite everything. Hearing his voice was almost too much, but the last thing he would ever do is hang up.

Tony swallowed. "Um. Yeah. Thoughts?"

"We lost. And I'm sorry." Steve said, trying to hide the uncertainty in his tone, "I broke a promise, and I hurt us. We both made mistakes but..." A shaky sigh exits Steve's mouth, and Tony feels the familiar ache to kiss away the pain for him.

"But." Steve spoke more surely now, "I made the bigger one. That mistake was leaving you behind. I love you, Tony, and I have completely failed at expressing that in a meaningful way."

"I love y- you too." Tony said, voice small and stuttering slightly. All his residual anger was fading hearing from the man he loved speak to him again. "We really lost, Steve. Can we really continue the story of us? When all I have left is the ashes of what we were?"

"Killing me with poetry." Steve mutters, but he spoke too close to the microphone and Tony smiles a small, hopeful smile.

Steve, unbeknownst to Tony, was stroking over the words of his poem, having copied it out as soon as he received it. "What is lost, as you said yourself, can be rediscovered. What love we had can make it, Tony." He paused, before adding;

"We'll burn even brighter than we did before."