#The mother of all spoon-killers

[atomskdluffy]

I really need to get around to finalizing the upgrade to my PC, but after that last attempt I've lost the motivation to try again. I think I know how I'll find it again, and sadly it's not completely up to me: I need someone else here to supervise the process. So as I near the end of Burning Shores and start to wonder what I should stream next, I have to admit that it will not be BG3 for some time yet, not until the stars align and my upgrade is complete. I'll have to find a much smaller-scale game to play first!

[timmydraker]

Tim who has never been good at understanding the words of Shakespeare and Dickens.

He can understand metaphors and knows about philosophy, but he’s always struggle to truely grasp the tragedy and helplessness so may of them hold. The idea of someone being doomed from the start, by the author and the narrative or maybe just the world they were set in, just doesn’t really make sense to him.

Part of him knows it’s because he was born with a vintage silver spoon placed delicately in his hands, but there’s more to it than that.

See, most of the bad things that have happened to Tim have either been consequences of his own action or the fact that his friends and colleagues all have the same dangerous job.

To him it just makes sense that bad things will happen and so he can just… prepare for it. He can do what he can to fix it or move onto something else and push away his own feelings because what else is he supposed to do?

So, no, things like Hamlet and Dorian don’t really click for him

At least… until he thinks about Jason.

Born in poverty with a world surrounding him that would not bother to care or offer help to him purely because of how he looks of his parents.

A mother who loves him endlessly, only to fall into the drugs she tried to protect him from.

Finding out that mother didn’t even give birth to him, but the father that never showed anything other than distain and cruelty was still his own.

Being given Robin, hated by the first one for a time, only to die in the suit by the hands of a mad man all because his real mother sold him out.

Waking up in a coffin, digging himself out and roaming around catatonic and the only thoughts he can actually process is that he must be a ghost.

Being taken by a league of killers, lied to and trick and tormented into thing a perfect weapon.

Realise his mentor, who he once thought the father he deserved to have, has failed him and let his killer free because of something as fickle as a moral compass.

Seeing that mentor seemingly replace him with a perfect rich kid who doesn’t swear or complain or sneak off without permission from what he can tell.

Having no real friends in that time.

Having no one to trust because everyone had an ulterior motive. Everyone uses him.

And through out it all, even with all the hate and the bitterness and injustice he had been faced with, his first course of action is to make the home he first had and the only one he will ever have… safer.

To protect the kids like him from becoming statistics and killers, from the pain he felt and the false promises of the Batman.

Jason keeps honesty and integrity, even when no one else offers it to him in return.

Tim can’t understand Macbeth or Antigone or Othello, can’t see why someone would write something so morbid just to try and entertain.

But he can understand, or at least try to understand, Jason Todd.

Because that is someone who had actually been hurt for no reason. Someone who had been tormented by the universe, by fates and coincidence, with no real lesson being taught other than the world hates him.

Sure Jason has Roy and Biz and Artemis and Kori, but what about a brother?

Dick tried, he still does, but he fails Jason over and over by trying to make him ‘better’.

Damian doesn’t really care too much, not out of malice but there’s just not much of a connection between them.

Cass tries, but Jason is always awkward around her and that’s not his fault, you can’t hide a thing from her.

Duke liked Jason a lot, but again, the newest Bat is trying hard to find his place in the world of vigilantes and can’t quite find it in himself to be too close to Jason’s violence.

But Tim…

He’s morals have always been held together by the simple fact of ‘it’s not really that approved of’ and not much else. He won’t kill, but unlike the others he is happy to leave a Rouge in a sinking ship and not feel a hint of guilt.

He adores Jason’s Robin, he knows to some extent how much he lost with that, and now he knows that Jason might not need much more than a few good things.

Small things, nothing that will trick him into thinking the world is apologising because it won’t, but enough to show him that Tim thinks he’s still worth something.

Tim won’t try convince him to become a better person or to stop killing, he might ask him to be a bit more rational and probably won’t be able to stop himself from giving tips on how to run his business, but he wouldn’t ask for his violent brother to change.

Because unlike everyone else, Tim knows that violence exist for good reason.

If it keeps his Jason alive, Tim will gladly hold onto his blood soaked hand.

[innerfare]

You’re Sick - Part 1

Summary: How do they act when you come down with a bad fever?

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Ace, Sabo, Law, Kid

Genre: Fluff

CW: None // SFW

——— 

Luffy: 

Don’t expect him to look the other way when you blow snot all over the place. He’ll laugh and even poke a little fun at you. One thing he won’t do is fuss over you. Sure, he’ll bring you something to eat, and he’ll tell you to get under the blanket if you’re so cold, but he won’t be a mother hen clucking. And it’s comforting, actually. If there’s one thing you can count on from Luffy, it’s for him to remain calm, and he does just that when you come down with a fever, showing up for you without smothering you. 

Zoro: 

He’s not very good at the nurturing gig. The main thing is that he doesn’t want you to think that he thinks you can’t handle yourself. But… well, he worries. He’s never seen you this way, and the fear of loss is never out of reach for him. He takes to hovering by the door with his arms folded over his chest, even lowering his head to rest his eyes but never once sitting down. It’s not even a conscious thing, him staying on his feet the entire time you’re sick; his instinct is just to protect you, and this is the way he knows. 

Sanji: 

Soup. Of course he’s going to make soup. And then he’s going to make more soup, so much soup that the entire crew will be eating soup for at least the next week. Sanji doesn’t know what else to do with himself. He has to keep himself busy, though, has to keep his hands moving, or else he’ll find himself in a dark place. Luckily, he knows he can place his faith in Chopper to nurse you back to health. In the meantime, though, he’s going to keep making soup because he knows the power of a good meal. 

Ace: 

He brushes it off so easily you would think he wasn’t worried- if you didn’t know him, that is. What hits him the hardest when you’re bedridden, though, is how much you take care of him, followed by a fear that he won’t reciprocate well enough and you’ll be cross with him. He never would have imagined his fear of abandonment would rear it’s ugly head at such a time, but there he is, sitting on the end of the bed feeling like his most precious treasure is about to slip through his fingers. He wants to run from it, but he manages to grab your hand and give you a smile, teasing you about your messy hair. 

Sabo: 

He babies you- the man who rarely picks up the transponder snail and usually hangs up in the middle of the call when he does, the man who can’t be damned to remember most people’s names, the man who seems so utterly blasé most of the time. He drags a damp cloth across your forehead, he takes your temperature every hour, he reads and rereads the label on the medicine you were given by the doctor to be sure you get the right dose at the right time and don’t show any of the adverse side effects listed. 

Law: 

You expect him to be gruff with you. After all, your boyfriend hasn’t struck you as a doctor famous for his bedside manner. That’s not to say he’s mean, he’s just not very sappy. But when you come down with a fever, you notice a line in his brow you’ve never seen before and quickly realize the depths of his worry. Law is more gentle with you than he’s ever been, even going so far as to quietly spoon feed you. And he holds you the entire time, any risks to his own health be damned. 

Kid: 

If you didn’t know him so well, you’d think he was mad at you, or at least trying to disturb your sleep because he doesn’t want you to rest. But he snapped at you to sleep in his bed, not your own, and when he comes into his cabin every fifteen minutes, you recognize his extra loud footsteps and irate muttering about you coughing all over his sheets as concern. Eventually, he sits in a chair by the bed with a hunk of metal in his hands that he fidgets with while he watches over you, barking at Killer to bring you something hot. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[brain4stew]

I was wondering if u could do something with this post https://www.tumblr.com/brain4stew/776674413350404096/forsaken-killers-with-a-deceased-so-perchance

But make it like a part where boom their body's are suddenly gone and now there suddenly alive but the killers don't believe it at first!! if possible then just a lil fluff.

I really wonder where you people get ideas from… ���‍♀️ DID YOU STEAL MY BRAIN JUICE?! 😦😦 /J

But yes, I shall make this for you, anon. 🙂‍↕️

Those that do not know what post the anon is referring to, it is,

This one.

(Note: Characters may be ooc, since I do not know how the characters actually will work/be like!)

That being said, here is your request under the cut! ;

1x1x1x1 (1x4).

We all know that this creature is the embodiment of hatred, right? And he had you as their lovely s/o.

However, you were dead. You were a minion for a while, a special minion.

But after a round where 1x4 was the killer, and she killed every survivor, and won. Imagine her shock, when you’re gone.

Now just imagine, his hatred but now tenfold.

Way more relentless in rounds, bringing actual hell on their victims. (Survivors.)

But one specific round, she sees you alive.

He doesn’t believe it of course, and kills you for a few rounds. Before he notices that very same look you always have, when you were alive, and didn’t die.

Another round, and they immediately starts rushing to find you. Ignoring every and all survivor now, surprisingly.

When she finds you, oh, when she finds you again… She won’t leave you be alone ever again.

He’s practically growling at any and all survivor and killer within your vicinity. He just doesn’t want you to die again…

In private, they’ll be scared to touch you, let alone hold you. But as you reassure them that you will be alright, they can’t help but hug you, hold you close, and pepper your face with kisses.

You both fell asleep with each other again, cuddled up with each other. 1x4 obviously is the big spoon, scared that you’ll be gone the moment she wakes up again.

John Doe.

This poor, confused and corrupted guy…

His corruption was far too bad when you were dead. That his corruption ended up corrupting the killers and survivors a bit.

He doesn’t notice that you’re alive, as he kills you for many rounds, until a survivor yells out your name, to warn you of him.

He pauses his hand, mid-strike, stiffening up.

Did he hear that correctly? His s/o? Alive again? Couldn’t be…

When he glances down at you, he is arguably… Shocked and confused.

He lowers his hand, hesitating for a while-

You ended up tackling him down into a tight hug. He’s shocked by your sudden strength, how did you manage to tackle him down?!

He’s glad you’re alive however. So each round where you’re in it, he searches for you, and stays by you everytime. His corruption gradually becoming stable again.

(The survivors and killers that were affected by his corruption also became free of the corruption.)

He glares at anyone, everyone and anything near you. He quite literally does not trust anything near you, afraid that you’ll die once again.

In private, he’s clingy as hell. He always has to have at least one singular claw on one of your fingers.

He’s hugging you, and cuddling you quite a lot. He missed you, a lot.

Jason.

Jason was still and is still killing each and every survivor, until his mother tells him that your body, is gone.

He’s scared, livid also! Did your body get taken? No, because then someone would have to go inside his room, and search for both you and his mother’s head…

He’s more feral this time, killing anyone and everyone. He doesn’t notice it, as he kills you for a few rounds, until…

His mother, recognized you. She immediately tells him to stop, and to look closely at you.

He does as told, stopping his attacks, and looking at you closely. Oh. My. MOTHER. (😇)

He drops his machete, and chainsaw, before rushing to you, and hugging you closely. Not caring at all that the survivors are looking.

In private, you and him will be making diy’s, knitting, learning and listening to his mother. Listening to what she has to say about her youth, and learning how to do and make things.

He also hugs you a lot, tensing up whenever a survivor or killer is nearby you.

Mafioso.

He’s relentless in rounds. Killing any and all survivor, in debt or not, he does not care.

He always watches over his goons, practically glaring death daggers at them, if they ever are close to your capsule.

Imagine his shock and horror when his boss, Eunoia, tells him that you are gone. You disappeared. Your dead body, gone, vanished.

He immediately rushes back to your capsule and his boss after his round of being the killer, and sure enough… You’re gone. Eunoia has already sent some goons to look for you, whilst having trackers on each and every one of them.

The more rounds he is in, the more frustrated, angry and mad he is. Where did you go? Did one of his goons betray him again? Did a survivor take you? Did a fellow killer take you away? No, Eunoia would have seen, heard and taken care of them.

So imagine his reaction, when you tackle him from behind, hugging him tightly from behind, and calling him that lovely and sweet nickname you gave him that he remembers dearly.

He stops in his tracks and turns around to face you, taking his hat off, and placing it on top of your head, as he hugs you back.

He holds you, hugging you for a while, before he calls his most trusted goons. (Soldier, Contractee, Consigliere and Caporegime.)

Their shock when they see you again, they immediately ask Mafioso if they can hug you too. When they get a confirmation from Mafioso, and he backs up from you.

You’re immediately tackled down into a group hug. The guys crying and hugging you, as you smile, and hug them all back, telling them that you’re okay and safe. And how you missed every and each one of them.

You look up at Mafioso, and grin, you reach up an arm, and pull him down into the group hug. (He’s surprised by the unexpected gesture and strength, so much so that he actually stumbles.)

In private, you and his goons are making bracelets, items and everything you all can make together.

You, Mafioso and his goons listen to Eunoia, occasionally asking questions, and giving advice.

(Whenever you’re supposed to be sat on the ground, you’re instead sat on Mafioso’s lap. He put you on his lap.)

Mafioso’s bunnies squeak and whine when they finally see you. You’re immediately swarmed with bunnies, and Mafioso sat behind or beside you.

In private, Mafioso will hold you like you’re something fragile, afraid that you’ll die and disappear again.

He doesn’t show it much, but whenever he’s with you, or Eunoia, he lets his bunny form show. You and Eunoia are the only ones he trusts to be able to help groom him in his bunny form/state.

He’s also cuddling you a lot, even nuzzling you a bit too, he’s glad you’re alive and back again, but he’s still scared it’ll happen again.

Eunoia also treats you like you’re fragile glass. She knows how vulnerable people are, and she’s afraid she’ll damage you.

(Anyway, thank you for requesting this, anon! 🫶)

[riecoeur]

love.

pairing — athlete!lee chanyoung x fem!reader warnings — aged up, lowercase, just fluff and cute lee chanyoung part of — my gold metal husband .

📌 any feedback are appreciated, i’d love to know what you think of my first mini-series, send ask → 💌🦕🩵 !

🏷️ taglist

ever since your pottery shop opened, you’ve been so busy you can barely catch your breath, let alone eat properly. your little shop’s tucked away in a quiet alley, meant as a cozy spot for people to try their hand at crafting pottery, but you never expected it to draw such a crowd.

groups of young friends, couples, even older aunties and uncles they all show up to mess around with clay, glazes, and the wheel.

you’re thrilled. but also, completely wiped out.

it’s not like you’re neglecting yourself on purpose, it’s just that you genuinely don’t have time to think about it. from morning till night, you’re caught up with customers, clay, and half-finished cups and bowls. some days, your stomach growls so loud you can hear it, but you just brush it off, thinking you’ll eat once you’re done. except “later” often stretches into late at night.

chanyoung, of course, isn’t about to let that slide.

that day, you’re in the middle of showing a group how to shape clay into mugs when the shop’s bell jingles. you glance up on reflex and spot a familiar figure at the door.

lee chanyoung. your husband.

and apparently, not a stranger to the younger crowd either, with that cool-guy charm, killer physique, and height to match.

proof? the second he steps in, the younger customers start whispering. some widen their eyes, others nudge their friends, and one even lets out a tiny squeal.

“oh my god, is that lee chanyoung?!”

“he’s even hotter in person than in pictures!”

“his wife’s this shop owner, right? ugh, this couple’s too cute!”

you bite back a laugh, worried they might swarm him for photos any second. pretending not to hear, you clap your hands to reel everyone back in.

“alright, everyone, let’s keep shaping! the tricky part’s coming up!”

the group blinks a few times, then reluctantly turns back to their wheels, unwilling to abandon their projects. chanyoung catches it, smirks faintly, and walks over, setting a bag of food on the table before quietly pulling up a chair in the corner. his eyes stay glued on you, like he’s waiting to see if you’ll actually eat.

you sigh, turning to the customers.

“keep going, guys, i’ll be right back.”

then you drag chanyoung into the break room, well, “room” is generous; it’s just a tiny space sectioned off by a glass partition.

“what are you doing here?”

chanyoung crosses his arms, giving you that displeased look.

“eat.”

you blink. “huh?”

he points at the food bag on the table.

“i got you food. eat it.”

you laugh. “i’ll eat later.”

chanyoung frowns, voice turning stern.

“how many times have you said that already?”

you know you can’t argue, so you obediently open the bag. inside, there’s a warm bento box and a cup of your favorite juice. you glance at chanyoung, and his expression softens a bit.

“when’d you get this?”

“on my way here,” he says, voice quieter now.

“mom called me yesterday. said you’ve been so busy you’re not eating right and you’ve gotten thinner. i was worried.”

guilt creeps in. your mother-in-law must’ve noticed you slimming down and tipped him off.

you pick up the chopsticks, but before you can take a bite, chanyoung grabs a spoon, scoops up some rice, and holds it to your mouth.

“open up.”

you laugh but comply. the moment the food hits your tongue, your stomach rumbles hard. maybe you’ve been starving yourself longer than you realized.

chanyoung patiently feeds you, grumbling every now and then, “if my wife gets any skinnier, i’m gonna be pissed for real” or “if you don’t take care of yourself, i’ll skip practice and camp out here until you eat properly.”

you just smile, gazing at the man in front of you, feeling your heart swell with warmth.

what you don’t know is that, not far off, a few of the customers from earlier are secretly filming.

the next day, photos and videos of chanyoung feeding you spread like wildfire online. the captions are all over the place, but the standout ones?

“top swimmer on the blue lanes, but at home, he’s just want his wife to eat a proper meal!”

or, even funnier,

“national swimmer, defending the country on the race track, defending his wife at every meal. now that’s a national treasure.”

when chanyoung sees them, he just scratches his head, chuckling awkwardly.

“all i did was feed my wife, and now it’s a whole social media thing.”

you laugh, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“you’re even more famous now, huh, my husband?”

he grins, wrapping an arm around you, voice soft and gentle.

“fine by me, as long as you eats properly.”

[befuddledcinnamonroll]

Tag Game: Scenes I will never forget

Rules: Share 5-10 scenes you can't forget. Not your favourites, the ones that got stuck in your brain for any reason.

Tagged by @thisonelikesaliens 😘

I love this prompt, because a lot of tags are about favorites, but there are so many scenes that have more complexity than that, and are harder to classify. Going to stick to QL, since that's what most in my head these days.

1. Until We Meet Again was one of my earliest BLs, and one of the most impactful. From the first episode, I was so struck by how Korn had forced Intouch to watch him die, and how utterly traumatizing that must have been. This is not meant in a victim-blaming way at Korn for his choice, he was in so much pain, but he did do something that hurt the one he loved the most in the most brutal way possible and I needed it to be fully acknowledged. And then, close to the end, we got the moment that both destroyed me, and absolutely needed to happen for the story as a whole to work. Intouch finally had a chance to express his pain and trauma over what Korn did. Fluke's acting here gave me chills, and the catharsis I needed.

Close second is the scene with the fathers of Korn & Intouch tying the red threads, which made me cry so hard I've never been able to watch it again.

2. Manner of Death. This was the first BL I watched that wasn't romance-focused, and I ate it up with a spoon. But it was also quite a powerful and raw story. When the killer is murdering Jane, and you understand all of the despair and confusion and hurt that Jane is experiencing at the hands of someone she utterly loved and trusted, it's both heartbreaking and unforgettable.

Since none of us want to see that in gif form, as solace, have Great shirtless.

3. DNA Says Love You. I will never stop talking about how underappreciated this series is. Because Amber is a very internal character, we learn things about him slowly. But what really sticks out to me is this scene, where is he eating the cake that he used to have with this family as a child. And the memories that come back are just so overwhelming. Le and his mother at this point have no context, just see their guest crying over cake, but are still so sweet and kind despite their bewilderment.

4. Not Me. Needs no explanation. Honestly, I could pick about 10 scenes from this series. I am so beyond excited P'Nuchy is coming back to direct again.

5. Perfect 10 Liners. I know I'm not the only one who connected fiercely with Faifa, and how deft he was at wearing a positive face over his pain. I will never forget his face in this moment, while the rest of his family is happily reconnecting, and completely ignoring him and his obvious feelings, because they only ever care to see the illusion when he is present.

6. He's Coming to Me. Another series that doesn't get talked about nearly enough. The early scene with Med walking through the graveyard, as time passes and people change around him, visiting all the other graves while he is alone, has always stayed with me. It evokes such bittersweet sadness for Med, until it's broken by the first appearance of Thun.

7. Ghost Host Ghost House. What can I say, I like my ghost stories. I could pick multiple options from this show, but in this case, I have to go with the couch scene, because it's one of the best "dear lord give me strength" moments ever from Pluem, while Kawin, of course, knows exactly what he's doing with those short shorts, the little devil. They are telling us so much with zero dialogue.

8. Old Fashion Cupcake. Almost this entire series lives in my head, but the confession is just an incredibly directed and acted scene. Continuous shot, the camera matching the chaotic energy of the actors, following Nozue as he gets increasingly desperate to flee, and Togawa as he gets increasingly desperate to keep Nozue with him, culminating in both one of the best kisses, and one of the most painful moments, as Togawa thinks he's just lost Nozue forever.

9. Secret Crush on You. A lot of credit goes to the translators for this moment, where they did such an incredible job expressing the beauty and respect in Intouch's manner of speech to Daisy, and all that it conveyed. There is so much we miss due to translations, and I will never forgot someone taking the time to make sure we understood the important context between the words, for such an important character and all she represented.

10. Semantic Error. This one also has so many moments I could pick, but this scene, the code switching in their conversation, the kiss, and what it says about the characters, has a permanent rent free spot in my brain.

I also feel like I need to do an honorable mention for Sorn jacking Jun into a koi pond as a series intro, because I don't think I'll be forgetting that anytime soon.

No pressure tags @sunshinechay @infinitelyprecious @le-trash-prince @slayerkitty @poetry-protest-pornography

[cokoladasljesnjakom]

tag you're it

tag you're it - shes a ruthless killer. she does not care if someone dies on her watch. her moves are like shadow. she is a shadow. once you see her, its too late. its not her problem. she cant complain, but what she can do is to comply thats what is she made for. thats what they made her do. but once she escapes from their grasp, she searches for him. for her brother. but of course what goes around, comes around. and thats is when she meets him. the winter solider. and oh yeah the rest of the avengers.

bucky barnes x fem! reader

word count: something like 8k

warnings: blood, panic attack (again), guns,bombs and uh lots of tears so yeah :) have fun

taglist: @svtpbts :)

a/n: here she is... ready to serve yall and YALL BETTER LIKE HER. i spent like a week and a half trying to finish her and i couldn’t. idk why tho but honestly? who gives a shit. have fun honey bunnies. just to be sure this is NOT proofread! so if you see mistakes... get over it.

masterlist

"Wake up! Come on, kids! Time for school!” Veronica’s voice rang through the house as she rushed from room to room, juggling breakfast, backpacks, and her own work uniform. She barely had time to tie her hair back before heading to Max’s room.

Pushing the door open, she expected to find him tangled in his blankets, grumbling for five more minutes. Instead, he was already sitting up, wide awake, grinning from ear to ear. “Mommy, I’m ready! Ready for school!” he announced proudly, bouncing on the bed like he couldn’t wait to start the day. Veronica’s heart swelled as she crouched beside him, hands on his tiny shoulders. “My big boy,” she whispered, pressing kisses to his soft, chubby cheeks.

Max giggled, his laughter bright and full of life. He clumsily returned the favor, smacking a sloppy kiss against her cheek. She chuckled, wiping off the mess but never once complaining. That was Max—her little sunbeam. As she looked at him, she couldn’t help but think of the day he was born—the way she had sobbed when she held him for the first time, overwhelmed by love. And then, the moment Y/N had met him, standing on the bed, wide-eyed with curiosity.

Veronica had barely gotten the words out— "Sweetheart, meet your baby brother. His name is Max."—before Y/N gasped dramatically. “What?! But you said the baby was in your tummy, Mommy!”

Veronica had burst into laughter, tucking a strand of hair behind her daughter's ear. “Well, he’s here now. I know you’ve been waiting to meet him.”

Y/N had stared at Max for a long moment, her little brows furrowed in concentration. Then, slowly, her frown melted into awe. “He’s so pretty,” she whispered, as if speaking too loudly would scare him away.

And just like that, a bond was formed. Wherever Y/N went, Max followed. And wherever Max was, Y/N was never far behind.

Now, years later, Veronica smiled at how little had changed. “Wanna wake up your sister?” she whispered. Max’s eyes lit up instantly. “Yes, yes, yes! Let’s wake up Y/N!”

Before she could stop him, he was already racing down the hall, his tiny feet thudding against the floor. He burst into Y/N’s room like a tiny hurricane, jumping onto her bed and shaking her with all his might. “Y/N, wake up! Wake up! It’s time for school!”

A low groan came from beneath the

blankets. “Max, move,” Y/N mumbled, pulling the covers over her head. Then, peeking out with one eye, she turned to their mom. “Can I stay home today? Please? I really don’t wanna go anywhere.”

Veronica gave her a sharp look, the kind only a mother could master. Y/N huffed but rolled out of bed anyway, throwing the blankets aside with dramatic flair.

“Ten minutes,” Veronica said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I want you downstairs, ready to go." By the time Y/N trudged into the kitchen, hair brushed, backpack slung over her shoulder, breakfast was already waiting for her. She plopped into her seat, grabbing the bowl of cereal. “Thanks, Mom,” she muttered before shoveling a spoonful into her mouth. Across the table, Max, munching on his PB&J, pointed at her and started giggling. “You have milk on your face!”

Y/N glared at him, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand while their mother watched with an amused smile.

For a moment, everything was perfect.

And none of them knew—none of them could have known—that this was the last normal morning they’d ever have.

3 months later -

Max gasped awake, choking on air as if he had been drowning. His heart pounded violently against his ribs, sweat clinging to his skin like ice. His hands trembled as he gripped the sheets, trying to remind himself— It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real.

But it was. The echoes of gunfire still rang in his ears. The scent of blood, smoke, and something burning filled his lungs. In his head, he could still see her—could still hear her. His mother’s voice, screaming. Shadow’s cries. His own younger self, frozen in place, unable to move, unable to help.

And then, the silence.

The silence was always the worst part.

Max turned onto his side, squeezing his eyes shut, as if that could somehow erase the images behind them. His fingers curled into fists against the mattress, his breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. It never ended. No matter how far he ran, no matter how much time passed, the nightmares never stopped. Some nights, he thought maybe—just maybe—if he could endure it long enough, they would finally fade. But every time he closed his eyes, the past dragged him back.

5:00 AM.

The red numbers on his clock glared at him like an omen.

Max exhaled sharply and sat up, running a hand through his damp hair. He glanced to his side—his fingers had accidentally brushed against hers in his sleep. That small, almost insignificant touch was enough to ground him, just a little.

But it also reminded him of how fragile everything was. He wasn’t getting any more sleep tonight.

With a quiet sigh, he pushed the blankets off and forced himself out of bed. His body ached in protest, but he ignored it, walking toward the bathroom. After brushing his teeth and splashing his face with cold water, he stepped into the kitchen, pulling on his running shoes.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Sam’s voice made him pause.

Max looked up to find him leaning against the counter, a steaming cup of coffee in hand. Max hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. You know how it is.”

Sam studied him for a second. He didn’t push. He never did. Then, as if shifting gears, he smirked. “So, what, you finally decided to stop being lazy and go on a run with me?”

Max huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah, well… figured it was time to kick your ass and prove you’re getting slow.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, amused. “Oh, really?”

Max finished tying his laces and stood. “Yeah, really.”

Sam hummed in mock thought. “Perfect. That means I can finally push you into that lake I told you about.” Max scoffed, already heading for the door. “Dream on, shithead.” He flipped Sam off over his shoulder.

Sam followed, shaking his head as he locked the door behind them. The world was still dark, the air crisp and biting against their skin.

He smirked. “Oh, I do dream about that shit. Every day, buddy.”

Max chuckled, shaking his head. “You need new dreams, man.”

Sam grinned. “Nah, this one’s too good.”

Then, without warning, he took off.

Max blinked. “Wait, aren’t we supposed to warm up first?” Already halfway down the street, Sam shouted back, “I did!” before flipping him off.

Max cursed under his breath before sprinting after him.

The nightmares never stopped. The past never let go. But for now, running—chasing after Sam, feeling the wind against his skin—made him feel like he could breathe again. At least for a little while.

After ten minutes of running—ten long-ass minutes of Sam teasing him about anything he could think of—Max was starting to regret this.

Sam, barely out of breath, smirked over at him. “You tired yet? Or do you wanna call it quits before I have to carry your ass home?”

Max shot him a glare, still keeping pace. “I should be asking you that, old man. You’re running like this is your last day on Earth.” He paused, grinning. “Actually, I wouldn’t be surprised if it is.”

Sam let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, yeah, keep talking, tough guy. We’ll see who’s still standing at the end of this.”

Max, despite the burning in his legs and the way his lungs fucking ached, smiled wide. “Uh-huh, sure. I’m dying here as we speak, y’know?”

Sam glanced at him. “Nah, if you were dying, you wouldn’t be running your mouth.”

Max huffed out a breath, shaking his head. His muscles were screaming at him to stop, but he pushed through it—he had to. The exhaustion, the burn, the ache in his chest… It was better than feeling nothing.

Sam must’ve noticed something shift in his expression because his teasing softened just a little. “Hey,” he said, nudging Max’s arm as they ran. “Still with me?”

Max blinked, snapping out of whatever dark thought was creeping in. He swallowed, forcing himself to focus on the pavement beneath his feet.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Still here.”

Sam gave him a look but didn’t push it. Instead, he jerked his chin forward. “Race you to the end of the block.”

Max raised a brow. “The hell? I thought we were pacing ourselves?”

Sam smirked. “What, scared you’ll lose?”

And just like that, the tension cracked.

Max snorted. “You wish.”

Then, before Sam could react, he took off.

Sam blinked. “Oh, you son of a—”

But he was already sprinting after him.

For the first time in a while, Max wasn’t running from something. He was just running.

-

They had been running for a while when another figure joined them. Blonde hair, white shirt clinging to his muscles, running like the damn ground was on fire beneath his feet.

Sam was the first to notice. His eyes widened as he watched the guy sprint past them at an almost inhuman speed. “Damn, how’s he running so fast?” He turned to Max, mouthing, Are you seeing this?

Max turned his head, catching a glimpse of the guy. And yeah, he was fast. Stupidly fast. “Dude, he’s gotta be winning this one. He just ran, like, two miles in a minute.”

Sam shot him a skeptical look. “Since when do you know math?”

Max glared at him. “What? Am I wrong, though?” He huffed, nodding toward the runner. “Show-off.”

Before Sam could respond, a voice called from behind them.

“On your left.”

Max, without missing a beat, deadpanned, “Uh-huh. Yeah, okay.” Sam gave him a weird look, but Max just shrugged, picking up his pace slightly.

A few minutes later—

“On your left.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Uh-huh. On our left. Got it.”

Another few minutes passed, and Sam could already feel it coming. He didn’t even have to look over his shoulder to know the guy was about to say it again. And right before the words could leave his mouth, Sam called out, already annoyed, “Don’t you say it! Don’t you say it, man!”

The runner just smirked. “On your left.”

“Oh, come on, man!” Sam groaned, finally slowing down while Max doubled over laughing.

Sam threw his hands up. “Did you see that shit? Who even does that?!”

Max was still wheezing, hands on his knees, shaking his head. “Dude’s out here making us look like amateurs!"

Sam pointed at him. “Speak for yourself. I’ve still got some dignity left.”

Max raised a brow. “Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that.”

After that, they gave up from running, more like max gave up because, damn he never ran this long before.

Wheezing and catching their breaths, they leaned on a nearest tree and rested their backs on it, while max tried to speak, the man who was with them not while ago spoke up, a smile on his face. "Need a medic?"

Sam broke out in a laughter and said "I need a new set of lungs" while Max huffeed and said right after sam "I need new legs. and a cold shower. Like a really cold one."

Sam continued, his hand still on his chest, trying to steady his breathing. "Dude, you just ran 13 miles in 30 minutes."

And the man said, while not sweating a breath or anything at all. "Guess i had a late start.

Max, grinning from ear to ear, took a swing from his water bottle and said. "Yeah? well you should be ashamed of yourself. you should take another lap." And looked at him sceptiply and added again "I assuned you just did right?" Then he turned to sam and asked him "Can you believe that?" while sam shook his head and drank his water too.

The man now asked sam "what unit you were in?" and Sam answered "58th pararescue. but now im working at the VA." While max answered, noticing the mans stare at him. "Im unemployed. Living on his back so, yeah, i am tehnically his problem" and sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah, a very expensive one."

The man noded, while Sam extended his hand at the man to lift him up from the ground and introduced himself "Sam Wilson." while Max did the same, only he lifted himself off the ground alone. "Max harrison."

And the man finally introduced himself back while taking sams hand and lifting him off the ground. "Steve Rogers."

Sam laughed and answered while pointing to steve. "yeah, i kinda put that together."

Max, however being the only one interested in now, steve rogers, the Captain America asked him, his hands gripping the bottle in his hands, trying to keep himself from fanboying. "Must have freaked you out, coming home after the whole defrosting thing."

Sighing, steve answered "it takes some getting used to. good to meet you Sam and uh Max."

Sam now seeing a chance to know about steve asked him, curiosity peeking out. "its your bed right?"

Steve, now turning around to face sam again asked "what?"

Sam continued "your bed, its too soft. when i was over there, i'd sleep on the ground, use a rock as a pillows like a cavemen." and Max snorted in the backround, after hearing the word 'cavemen' coming out from sam's mouth, and Sam turned around at hit him across his head, while max grumbled.

"Yeah, well I bet your head was too big to fit on a pillow anyway." Max teased Sam.

Sam sassed back at Max "your ass is too big for my couch and yet youre there sleeping like a little princess you are."

Sam now turned his head to face Steve, who had a shit eating grin on his face, looking at Max and Sam bickering. "now im home, lying in my bed -"

Steve interrupted him. "feeling like im going to sink into the floor, like a marshmallow." after a second he asked sam. "how long?"

Sam answered looking around. "2 tours."

Max asked him, now interventing in the conversation. "you must miss the good old days, huh?"

Steve, however shrugged and pointed some things out. "well the things arent that bad. foods a lot better, we used to boil everything." Max grinned. “Okay, first—hot dogs. You gotta try ‘em. Ketchup, maybe a little sugar on top—”

Sam groaned. “Oh my God, please don’t listen to him.”

Max ignored him, continuing, “Also, there’s this new restaurant that just opened. People say their food is amazing. I mean, I haven’t tried it yet, but—”

Sam turned around to face Max and told him to calm down, while Steve looked at them loving the way that Max got excited to talk about new places hes definitely going to visit after. "Internet, so helpful. i've been reading a lot, trying to catch up."

Sam suddenly remembered something and told steve about the old singer. "Marvin Gaye, 1972, trouble man sound track."

Steve took his little notebook out his back pocket and said "I'll put it on the list." and wrote out the artist's name and the name of the resturant that Max told him about, when max saw that, he punched Sam on the shoulder to celebrate his victory.

Steve’s phone buzzed and he sighed before saying bye to Max and Sam. "Alright Sam and Max. duty calls. thanks for the run." and he added teasingly "if you want to call that running."

Max lifted his eyebrows in suprise and called out "okay, cmon man, we tried okay. you're just stupid fast." while Sam said, laughing "oh thats how it is?" and Steve laughed and said while shaking sams hand "ooohh, that's how it is."

Steve pulled his hand out, ready to walk away sam called out "anytime you want to come by and visit me at the VA, trying to make me look cool in front of the girl at the front desk, just let me know."

While Max said "yeah, well if you want to visit me, which it would make more sense, and hang out with me, im always here."

Steve laughed and said "i'll keep it in mind." and while he walked away, a car pulled in fron of him and a women called out, or lets say the black widow, Natasha Romanoff. "hey fellas. either of you know where smithononias is? im here to pick up a fossil."

Steve now walked to the car and said "thats hillarious." while closing his door getting in the car. buckling himself in he turned around and said to the boys. "can run everywhere."

Max and Sam laughed and said "yeah, no shit you cant." and the car drove out from their sight. the moment it did, Max jumped up and down while yelling to Sam "dude i just met Captain America!" while Sam laughed and both of them went home, while Max ratted Sam's ear off about everything.

H.Y.D.R.A. SAFEHOUSE

The mans hands trembled as he gripped the files to his chest, his breath coming in quick, uneven gasps. I shouldn’t have done it. I should’ve deleted everything when he told me to.

He forced himself to take a deep breath, but it did little to steady the panic clawing at his ribs. Reaching the secured door, he swiped his keycard. A beep. The doors hissed open. He slipped inside. The computer sat waiting, its screen casting a dim glow over the desk. He dropped into the chair, fingers flying over the keyboard, searching for the file he was supposed to have erased. Come on… come on…

Then—there it was. The man exhaled sharply, relief crashing into him. He clicked it open— And froze. Everything was still there. Every bit of data, every classified detail, untouched. But something felt wrong. Like someone had been here before him. Like the most important piece was just… gone. His grip tightened around the flash drive in his hand. No. I need to check—

"William?"

The thick Russian accent sent a bolt of ice down his spine.

Slowly, he turned.

Ivan Aslanov stood in the doorway, watching him with a cool, unreadable expression.

"What are you doing here?" Ivan asked, his tone even.

William swallowed hard. "I—uh, I was just checking the data for the mission tonight. Making sure everything’s in place." His heart slammed against his ribs. Too fast. Too hard.

Ivan’s sharp gaze lingered on him a second too long before he finally nodded. "We have all the data in the office. Come." He gestured toward the door. "We have work to do."

William hesitated. Then, stiffly, he logged out of the system and powered it down.

He stepped away from the desk.

And didn’t notice—The flash drive. Still plugged into the computer. Ivan’s gaze flicked to it the moment William passed him, his expression giving nothing away.

He waited until the sound of William’s footsteps faded down the hall. Then, in one smooth motion, he plucked the drive from the port and slipped it into his coat.

For the first time in years, he had a lead.

Now, he just needed a plan.

To get her out.

Ivan walked with measured steps, his thoughts miles ahead of him. The risks. The consequences. What could go wrong—and what had to go right. Three months of planning, of waiting for the perfect moment. Three months that had stretched into what felt like a lifetime.

Now, it was almost time.

Beside him, William remained oblivious, too focused on the mission at hand. They entered the office, where a large table was covered in blueprints, maps, and classified files. Everything was set. The fake pirate attack. The bitter Frenchman with his personal grudge against Captain America. The so-called "hostages"—S.H.I.E.L.D. agents placed in just the right position to play the victims.

But Ivan barely saw any of it. Tonight wasn’t about the mission. A voice cut through his thoughts, sharp and commanding. An American voice. Alexander Pierce. “Is everything ready for tonight?”

Around the room, the scientists muttered in unison, “Yes, sir.”

Pierce nodded, his gaze sweeping over the room like a final warning. “Good. Everything has to go exactly as planned.” His tone left no room for failure.

Another round of nods. Another “Yes, sir.”

Satisfied, Pierce turned and left.

Ivan exhaled slowly.

First step: the mission. Let S.H.I.E.L.D. play hero. Let them think they were winning.

Because tonight wasn’t about them.

Tonight was about her.

BACK AT THE S.H.I.E.L.D. COMPOUND

Steve and Natasha made their way down the hall toward Nick Fury’s office, their conversation light but persistent—at least on Natasha’s end. “Oh, come on, Steve,” she teased, a knowing grin on her face. “That girl at the front desk? She’s cute. And her name is Darcy. Sounds like she was made for you.”

Steve groaned as they stepped into the elevator. “Is she the one who stares at me every time I walk by?” Natasha nodded.

Steve sighed, running a hand over his face. “Yeah, no. Too many tattoos. And she’s always looking at me weird.”

Natasha let out a dramatic sigh and shook her head. “Because she likes you, dumbass. And she probably wants a piece of that—” Steve shot her a glare as they reached their floor. She smirked. “I mean, can you blame her?”

They stepped out of the elevator and walked toward Fury’s office. Steve raised his fist to knock—maybe a little too hard.

BANG.

Natasha snorted. “Easy there, soldier. You planning to break the door down?”

Before Steve could respond, the door swung open, revealing Nick Fury’s unimpressed face. He eyed Steve, then the door, then back at Steve. “You knock like that again, and you’ll be paying for a new door, Captain.”

Steve scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry, sir.”

Fury stepped aside to let them in, the door shutting automatically behind them. “Lock it,” he ordered.

The AI responded instantly. “Doors locked.”

Natasha dropped into a chair, crossing her legs as she made herself comfortable. “So, what’s the emergency, Nick?”

Steve remained standing beside her, arms crossed.

Fury exhaled, leaning back in his chair. He twirled a classified file between his fingers before tossing it onto the table. “We have a mission. And I need you two on it.” He glanced at Natasha. “I tried to get Stark, but the little asshole won’t answer his phone. So congratulations, you’re my second choice.”

Natasha placed a hand on her chest mockingly. “Wow. I’m honored.” Steve, ignoring the banter, stepped forward. “What’s the mission? And when do we start?”

Fury nodded toward the file. Natasha picked it up first, skimming through the pages. Her eyes flickered with interest as she read. “S.H.I.E.L.D. agents taken hostage…” she muttered. “Pirates. French ones, apparently.” She raised an eyebrow. “They really thought taking S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives hostage was a good idea?”

Fury scoffed. “These guys aren’t just pirates. They’re stupid pirates. But stupid people can still be dangerous. And they’ve got hostages.” Natasha handed the file to Steve, who flipped through it quickly before nodding. “We’ll get them back.” He shut the file and placed it back on the table. “You have my word, sir.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned toward the door. “Romanoff, I’ll be waiting.”

Natasha smirked. “Aye aye, Captain.”

As soon as the door closed behind Steve, Fury’s expression shifted. His usual cool demeanor remained, but his voice dropped just slightly. “You know your real mission, Romanoff.” Natasha’s smile didn’t falter as she stood, adjusting her jacket. “Take the most important data, as much as i could and try not to sabotage the mission.Yeah, yeah, I got it.”

Fury gave her a long look. Natasha held up two fingers. “Scout’s honor.” Then, with a wink, she strolled out the door.

When it shut behind her, Fury let out a slow breath, his gaze drifting to the city skyline through his window. For three months, he had been chasing shadows. Following whispers about her. The one who nearly put a bullet in his brother’s head. The one who had disappeared without a trace.

Tonight, that would change.

Or at least, he hoped it would.

2 HOURS BEFORE THE MISSION -

walking slowly and trying not to get attention on himself, Ivan had the files thightly in his hands, while the stick was deep in his lab coat, hidden from everyone.

the reason he was on the ship and not someone else? because he was the only one who knew the code to the doors he needed to get into. yeah,yeah he knew, a stupid reason, but he needed one. to do what he wanted to do for months.

when walking, every guard would nod his head to greet him and he would do the same. finally, reaching the doors, his hand reached for the card he now had and scanned it, making the doors open with a quiet hiss. now, youre asking, but how did he got the card, after all these years? well heres it how he got it.

flashback-

walking out from his office, his case in his hands, Ivan's thoughts were all around the place. how would he get the card, how would he find out what did William did, and how to break her free.

his fingers thightly gripped the case, while he entered the room where the winter solider stood. it wasnt a mission, or anything at this point, it was just the siencetists doing their own thing. experimenting on him. breaking him. all over again. his stomach churned at the sight of, before the strongest solider ever known, now like a broken toy, thrown away like nothing. 'it must’ve been the trigger words that affected this.' he had thought. the older siencetist, thrown across the room and his breathing shallow. 'maybe a few broken bones, here and there.'

trying to foucus on the solider, he stepped close to him, and spoke carefully, whispering with his hand out, like hes trying to ground himself. "солдат? ты меня слышишь?" (solider, can you hear me?) and the way the solider spoke, made him stop in his tracks, his footsteps now quiet, like he was afraid to scare him off. "цель устранена, миссия выполнена успешно." (target eliminated, mission successful.)

Ivan looked at the other side and saw a medic on the man trying to get him up, and the guy from the medic, nod his head in the was to say that the siencetist is fine. looking back at the solider, Ivan nodded his head yes, as in making believe for the man in front of him that he susccssesed.

"молодец солдат" (well done solider) Ivan said, while inching closer to the solider. "но мне нужно, чтобы ты сейчас вернулся и рассказал мне, что ты сделал." (but i need you to come back now and tell me what you did) and the solider stiffened, his back now straight and coice clipped. "Я убил цель и готов вернуться." (I killed the target and am ready to return)

Ivan now looking at the mans face, the blood running on his forhead, busted lip, fractured bones and probably twisted arm, asked him once again. "почему и кто вам сказал это сделать?" (why and who told you to do this) and the solider looked at him, pointed his head at the mans direction and said. "он мне так сказал" (he told me so) and Ivan nod his head once again, before telling the solider in a calm,deep voice. "Ты снова идешь спать. Спи спокойно, солдат." (you're going to sleep again. sleep well, soldier.) and the way his eyes crumbled, Ivan turned away, because he knew, that is he stayed there, he would to anything to get him out.

stepping away from the room, he saw William fiddgeting with his fingers and murmuring something to himself. seeing the key card hanging around his neck, he needed something do discract William, so he could at least get a copy of the card.

walking towards William at the full speed, yet acting calmly, he knocked his shoulder against his making William’s files fall out from his hands. cursing, William got down to pick them up, craning his head down, making the card fall down from his neck to the floor. and Ivan not waisting a second, took the card and hid it in his pocket.

"sorry, didn’t looked where i was walking, sir." William apologized, his hands now shaking and if it wasnt for now, Ivan would’ve felt bad. but unfortunately, he did not, so he helped him with his files and said, almost like he felt sorry, with russian accent. "its okay, it happens to everyone." so he patted his shoulder and walked away.

end of the flashback

Entering the dimly lit room, Ivan moved quickly, the door sliding shut behind him with a quiet hiss. He strode to the desk where the terminal awaited, his fingers already pulling up the login screen. The code? He knew it. Hacking into restricted systems had always been second nature to him—just another skill Hydra had unknowingly sharpened over the years.

He typed it in. The system granted him access. Now, his eyes scanned the directories, searching for one thing: the deleted file. But it wasn’t there. His jaw tightened. William must have wiped it completely.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small drive and plugged it into the terminal. A second passed, then another—then the screen flickered, and the file appeared. The one that wasn’t supposed to exist. Clicking it open, he scanned the data flashing before him. The missions Hydra had executed over the decades. The projects. The experiments. The people they had destroyed. Her. Him. Countless others who had been nothing more than pawns in Hydra’s hands. And worst of all—proof that Hydra had never truly died, that it had been rotting within S.H.I.E.L.D. all this time, waiting for the right moment to strike.

His hands hovered over the keyboard for only a second before he made his decision. With precise keystrokes, he initiated the upload. Every secret Hydra had buried, every atrocity they had committed—it was all about to be exposed.

A final prompt flashed on the screen:

“RELEASE THE DATA?”

Ivan didn’t hesitate. He hit Yes.

The system processed his command, the progress bar crawling forward. Heart pounding, he rose from the chair, yanked the drive free, and tucked it back into his coat. He swiped his keycard, stepping out of the office just as the countdown began.

Thirty minutes.

That’s how long until the attack. Until the data was stolen, hidden away. Or worse—until it was erased again. But this time, he had done something that mattered.

For the first time in years, the weight on his shoulders felt lighter.

30 minutes later -

With calculated precision, she took down the last guard, moving like a shadow through the dimly lit hallway. No wasted movement, no unnecessary noise. By the time his body hit the ground, she was already at the door, pulling out a small device. A few taps. A quiet beep.The lock disengaged.

Natasha slipped inside, closing the door behind her without a sound. The room was cold, sterile—just another forgotten corner of a ship filled with secrets. She moved to the computer, fingers flying as she logged in using the stolen credentials. Files flickered across the screen. She filtered through them, searching, scanning—until she found it. A single, tucked-away file, buried deep.

Gotcha.

She clicked. The screen filled with data, scrolling too fast for the average eye to catch, but she wasn’t an average eye. Her fingers moved again, copying everything onto the drive Fury had given her.

Fury.

Lately, he had been on edge, more than usual. Like he was waiting for something—or someone. And whatever was on this hard drive, it mattered to him more than he was letting on.

A muffled grunt sounded from outside the room. She ignored it. Come on, come on, she thought, watching the transfer bar crawl forward. Then— The doors burst open. A body crashed to the floor—a French pirate, groaning, half-conscious. And stepping over him, shaking his head, was Steve Rogers. "Well, this is awkward," she muttered, a smile on ber face.

Steve glanced from her to the computer, then back. "What are you doing?" She smirked. "Backing up the hard drive. It’s a good habit to get into."

Steve’s jaw tightened. "Rumlow needed your help. What the hell are you doing in here?".Finally, he looked at the screen. Realization hit. "You’re stealing S.H.I.E.L.D.’s intel."

Natasha barely reacted, typing a few more commands. "Whatever I can get my hands on." Steve stepped closer. "Our mission was to save hostages." She pulled out the drive and patted him on the shoulder. "No, that was your mission," she corrected, smiling. "And you did it beautifully."

Before she could move, Steve caught her arm, pulling her back. His voice was low, tense. "You just jeopardized this whole operation." Natasha didn’t flinch. "I think that’s overstating things."

Before he could respond, a click echoed in the room. Both turned—just in time to see the pirate on the floor rising to his feet, a small detonator in his hand. "Shit," Natasha muttered. Steve barely had time to react. He grabbed Natasha, shielding her as he launched them both over the desk.

She fired a shot at the window just as the explosion detonated behind them. The blast ripped through the room, sending them crashing to the floor, the impact knocking the wind out of her.

For a moment, everything was dust and ringing ears. Steve was the first to move, pushing himself up and glancing out the shattered window. The pirate was gone.

Natasha let out a breath, rubbing her head. "Okay. That one’s on me." Steve shot her a glare, completely unimpressed. "You’re damn right."

And just like that, he was gone, already chasing after the pirate. Natasha sighed, rolling her shoulders before getting up. "No gratitude, I swear," she mumbled, following after him.

THE NEXT MORNING -

Nick Fury sat in his dimly lit office, the weight of last night’s events pressing against his thoughts. The hard drive in his hand felt heavier than it should. Something isn’t right. He placed it into the computer and spoke, voice steady. “Secure the office.”

“Office secured.” The AI’s confirmation was immediate. The once-transparent windows darkened, the room sealed off from the outside world. No prying eyes. No unwanted ears.

Fury leaned forward. “Open Lemurian Star's satellite launch file.” Silence.

“Access denied.”

He froze. His gaze flicked to the screen. That’s impossible. “Run decryption.”

The system processed, the progress bar crawling forward—then suddenly stopping.

“Decryption failed.”

Fury’s fingers tightened around the desk. He wasn’t one to be shut out. “Director override. Fury, Nicholas J.” Another pause. Another lockout.

“Override denied. All files sealed.”

A slow exhale. His instincts were screaming now. He switched tactics.

“Open files on the most recent missions.”

“Specify.”

Fury didn’t hesitate. “Shadow and the Winter Soldier.” Nothing.

“Access denied. Files are sealed.”

His jaw clenched. "On whose authority?"

The AI didn’t even pause. “Fury, Nicholas J.”

His own name. That was all he needed to hear. Yanking the drive from the port, Fury turned on his heel and strode toward the elevator. "World Security Council."

"Confirmed."

As the elevator ascended forty floors, Fury’s mind raced. Someone had locked him out of his own system, and he wanted to know who. Why now? And what the hell are they hiding? The doors slid open. He stepped out, heading toward Alexander Pierce’s office.

Pierce’s secretary barely had time to acknowledge him before he was inside, waiting while Pierce wrapped up a conversation with a congressman on the screen. Pierce turned, a smirk already in place. "I work forty floors away, and it takes a hijacking for you to visit?"

Fury shook his hand, matching his tone. "A nuclear war would do it too." Pierce let out a short chuckle, but his eyes remained sharp. Fury glanced toward his office. "You busy in there?" Pierce waved a dismissive hand. "Nothing some earmarks can't fix."

Fury nodded, taking a second before speaking. How the hell do I ask this?

"I need a favor." Pierce exhaled. "Nick, when you say favor, I hear ‘bureaucratic nightmare.’" Fury ignored him. "I need you to call for a vote. Project Insight needs to be delayed." A pause. "And I need access to the mission data from three months ago."

Pierce leaned back slightly. "That’s not a favor, that’s a subcommittee hearing. A long one." His fingers drummed against the desk. "And that data—why not just pull it yourself? You’ve got the code."

Fury’s stare was unwavering. "That’s the problem. My code doesn’t work."

Pierce’s expression didn’t change, but his fingers stopped moving. Just for a second.

"Could be nothing," Fury continued. "Probably is nothing. I just need time to make sure it’s nothing."

Pierce studied him. "And if it’s something?"

Fury didn’t blink. "Then we’ll both be damn glad those helicarriers aren’t in the air."

Another pause.

"Fine," Pierce said, rubbing his temple. "But as for the data—I, uh, forgot my own code for it. You’ll have to wait a day." Fury didn’t buy that for a second. But he nodded. "Appreciate it." Pierce smiled, leaning back in his chair. "No problem. But you still owe me—my niece’s birthday party, remember? You promised Iron Man would show up."

Fury gave him a look. "He’s not exactly the 'kids' party' type." Pierce smirked. "He doesn’t have to mingle. Just stand there and look shiny." Fury let out a low chuckle, turning toward the door. "I’ll see what I can do."

As he walked out, though, the uneasy feeling in his gut didn’t fade. Something was wrong. And he hated not knowing what. Stepping into his car, he locked the doors, started the engine, and drove. His instincts were rarely wrong. And right now?

They were screaming.

BACK AT THE H.Y.D.R.A FACILITY -

running around, the siencetists tried to do everything in time, before he arrives. they got out him out of the cyro and sat him down, strapping his hands down on the arm rest. after checking twice if the knot was tied hard enough, the man stepped in front of him with a red book in his hands.

now bucky, stared him with wide eyes, fear filling them and anxiety bubbling all over him. his hands shook in fear, that maybe there is another mission and his memories would be wiped all over again. 'i dont want this, not again, please.'

he wanted to say the words out, but knkowing them, saying a word without a premission woulve have consequences, so he keept his mouth shut and watched the man silently.

the machine inching closer to buckys face, it cachged him and started electrucing him. opening the book, while buckys scream echoed in the room, the man began saying the trigger words.

"Тоска" the man started to circle around bucky, his footsteps now loud, but not loud enough to susprese Bucky’s screams.

"ржавый" every scream sent the siencetists into a haze, their skin crawling and their minds too quiet.

"печь" bucky's skin felt like it was on fire, the touch of the machine burning his face. not handling the pain, he screamed louder.

"рассвет" remembering the daylight so clearly, the sunrise kissing his cheeks, every time he stayed up late, thinking about his future, but now forbidden to think about it.

"семнадцать" when he was just seventeen, the news he got were like he got hit by a car. the day that his grandmother died. he remembered how he cluched his mothers body next to his as if to ground himself.

"доброкачественный" the first time he got convinced that he was about to do, that it was 'good'. that it would help him to grow into good person.

"девять" always doubting him, using him for cruel ways to kill someone and the last nine years he had been used, those nine times he had been forced to listen and have no choice, but do everything what they said. the days that his freedom was taken away from him.

"возвращение домой" the days before he was capcured. the familarity of having his family close to him. where he felt that he belonged there. the warmth of his moms hugs, the teasing from his 4 younger sisters, every praise from his dad and raising him to be good man in the future, his friend, the one he loved so dearly, but his name - seemed so familiar, yet so distant.

"один" the first time he was ever sent to a mission. meaning he was sent alone. being the only one solider he was, in the beginning, it was always just him. one mission, one task, one target.

"товарный вагон" the day he fell off from that train. his fingers grippkng the handle so thightly, he thought his palms would bleed. Steve inching closer to him, wanting to take Bucky's hand into his and get him up, his hands suddenly fell off from the handle, making his screams for help to echo in to the void.

the man now stopped circling around bucky, closed the book and put it on a table next to him and stepped kn front of now, the winter solider, said in a cold demanor. "доброе утро, солдат."

the winter soldier now looked at the man with nothing but emptiness in his eyes as he nod his head. "готов подчиниться."

"is he ready?" pierce asked the second he stepped in the room, his hands in his pocket, making his presence in the room now cold. the man noded his head. "he is ready, sir."

pierce now satisfied with the answer, stepped closer to the winter solider and said. "we meet again, solider." sighing, he said again. "I have a mission for you, and you have to do it perfectly. no hessitation, just perfection." the solider nod his head yes in understoodment.

and the words that left pierce's mouth, shocked all of the siencetists in the room, even the man who triggered bucky. "kill nick fury. and I want a clear shot with a bullet in his head." and with that, he left the room, only to go in the other one.

Entering in the second room, the presence felt cold, non exsitend and almost normal? hearing the sharp breaths and the way her eyes burned through his skull, it made him uncomfortable and his skin crawled and itched every time he had to lock his gaze onto hers.

noding to the siencetist, as if asking if she was ready, the siencetist, whose name was Ivan, noded his head in aprovement to say yes.

Ivan watched Pierce’s gaze onto hers and all he wanted to do is to rip her off from the chair and save her. "she ready?" asked pierce.

Ivan nod his head and stepped away from her, and watched the way pierce walked slowly towards her and kneeling in front of her, taking her hands in his. "I have a mission for you, shadow." and she looked at him with the same look the winter solider had. emptiness and coldness. the loom that could say everything, but yet, nothing.

"I need you to kill Nick Fury." sighing and agzer a second he said again. "and i need you to repeat your mission before 3 months ago." looking at her, he asked her. "you remember that, dont you?" and shadow nod her head yes.

getting up from the position he was in, he clapped her shoulder and walked out from the room.

now it was the time to do the missions.

not one, but two.

-

In 20 minutes, both assassins were ready.

Weapons strapped to their bodies—knives, pistols, explosives. Anything that could kill, they carried. Their suits, dark and fitted for combat, left no room for mistakes. As they stepped out of their lockers, they locked eyes.

The Winter Soldier gave a curt nod. Shadow, standing there awkwardly, scoffed under her breath. “Asshole.”

He heard it. Of course, he did. Enhanced hearing was a pain in the ass sometimes. Turning slightly, he glanced over his shoulder—she was already gone.

Rolling his eyes, he made his way to the black SUV, yanking open the door and slipping inside. And there she was, sitting across from him, casually inspecting a gun. It was sleek, polished—black with pink edges.

His gaze lingered. Shadow, not even looking up, stretched her arm before speaking. "You're doing the staring thing again." He leaned back in his seat, expression unreadable. "No, I’m not. You’re imagining things." She snorted, loading and checking her weapons. "Uh-huh. And you’re delusional."

The Winter Soldier crossed his arms, his presence somehow even more intimidating, and Shadow—God help her—felt her face grow warm. That suit did not need to fit him that well. The way his muscles flexed beneath the fabric? Unfair.

"You are pretty annoying for a girl," he muttered. Shadow smirked. "You think I’m pretty, Soldier?"

His jaw clenched. A flicker of something crossed his face—confusion, irritation, maybe both. The faintest red crept up his neck. He didn’t answer. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. Before she could push further, the vehicle came to a stop. Orders were given. They stepped out, weapons in hand, eyes locking for one last moment before their humanity switched off.

Now, they were empty. Now, they were killers.

-

Max leaned against the wall, chest heaving. His shirt stuck to his back with sweat, and his legs felt like jelly. He waved Sam off weakly. “I hate you so much.”

Sam, hands on his hips, grinned like he had just run a warm-up lap instead of nearly getting them both killed. "Uh-huh. And you have a terrible way of lying, but here we are."

Max shot him a glare, but it lacked bite. He was too tired for attitude. Sam, ever the menace, reached out a hand. Max grabbed it, only to regret it immediately—Sam yanked him up, then clapped him on the back so hard he nearly faceplanted.

“Okay, what the hell was that for?” Max grumbled, straightening himself.

Sam smirked, already walking ahead. “You need to learn how to run. Those two things you call legs? Feels like you’ve got cinder blocks strapped to them.”

Max scoffed, catching up. "I wasn’t built for running, Wilson. I was built for—"

"Whining? Complaining? Moving at the speed of a grandma on a Sunday stroll?"

Max shot him a look. “I was gonna say ‘strength,’ but sure, let’s go with that.”

Sam snorted. “Strength, huh? Hate to break it to you, but if we were in a race for survival, you’d be dead five minutes in.”

Max threw his arms up. “Okay, first of all—screw you. Second, I’d survive.”

"Oh yeah? How?" Sam challenged.

Max grinned. “By tripping you first.”

Sam blinked, then let out a laugh. "Wow. Real honorable, man."

"Hey, survival's not about honor, it's about strategy."

Sam gave him a long look before shaking his head. “You know what? I’m actually impressed by how little shame you have.”

Max clapped a hand on Sam’s shoulder, smirking. “I aim to disappoint.”

Sam groaned, rolling his eyes as they kept walking. “Yeah, you’re doing a great job at that.”

Max just grinned, jogging ahead. Sam shook his head, but a small smirk played on his lips as he followed.

-

Five more minutes of running, and Max was done. He yanked Sam toward a nearby shop, ignoring his protests.

“I need a treat,” Max muttered, walking straight to the freezer section.

Sam scoffed but followed. “Yeah, sure. Take your time. Not like we were doing anything important.” When Max emerged, happily unwrapping a chocolate-covered ice cream bar, Sam’s expression turned downright offended. Without hesitation, he smacked Max upside the head.

“Wow. Okay. I see how it is.”

Max gave him an unimpressed side-eye as he took a bite. “You’ve got your own money. Buy your own. I’m not your damn nanny.”

Sam huffed under his breath but didn’t go back inside. “You know, every time I go grocery shopping, I get you something. Because I know your ass will be up my neck whining about how I didn’t.”

Max scoffed. “Well, yeah. You can’t just let me starve, shithead.”

Sam shot him a deadpan look. “Sometimes I wish I could.”

Max rolled his eyes and tossed the ice cream wrapper in a trash can as they walked. “Yeah, yeah. You fucking wish, man. If you really hated me, you’d have thrown me out a long time ago—”

BANG!

The gunshot split the air. Max froze as the bullet whizzed past his head, missing him by inches. Sam lunged, grabbing Max by the shirt and yanking him down behind a parked car just as another shot rang out. The sudden impact knocked the air from Max’s lungs. His ears rang.

“What the hell was that?!” Sam hissed, peeking over the hood, trying to pinpoint the shooter. More gunfire. Bullets pinged off metal, shattered glass, tore through the air.

Max’s hands were shaking. His breathing hitched. His heart pounded so hard it felt like it would burst from his chest. He turned to Sam, eyes blown wide with panic. "Sam, w-what’s happening?"

Another shot clipped the side mirror, shattering it. Sam grabbed Max again, shoving him further behind cover. He felt it then—Max's heartbeat hammering against his own palm. Too fast. Too erratic. Not good.

Max’s chest rose and fell too quickly. His fingers curled into his hoodie, nails digging into his own skin so hard his palm bled. His whole body shook. Panic attack.

Sam didn’t hesitate. He gripped Max’s wrist, prying his clenched fingers open. “Hey, hey—look at me.” Max’s eyes flickered to his. “Breathe, buddy. In. And out.” Sam inhaled, exaggerated, slow. Max mimicked it, struggling to control the rapid gasps.

But the gunfire. The noise. The smoke rising in the distance. It pulled him back—to her.

To the day she tried to kill him.

“I can’t.” Max’s voice cracked. His free hand clawed at his chest, as if trying to tear the panic out of him. "Sam, I can't fucking breathe."

Sam’s grip tightened. “Yes, you can. You’re with me. Right here. No one's gonna hurt you. I got you.” Max squeezed his eyes shut. Focus. Focus on Sam's voice. The world narrowed. The ringing in his ears dulled. Breathe. A deep inhale. A shaky exhale.

Sam gave a small nod. “There you go. You’ve got it.” Then he glanced over the car. Smoke. Whatever was burning, it was getting worse. Max was still rattled, and if he took one breath of whatever that shit was—it’d send him spiraling all over again.

Sam turned back to him, forcing a grin. “Alright, listen. We’re gonna run. As fast as we can. Because if we don’t, we’re gonna die in this damn alley, and I refuse to go out like this.”

He nudged Max, trying to keep the moment light. “If I’m gonna die, it better be on some cool superhero shit.”

Max let out a breathless laugh. He knew what Sam was doing. And he appreciated it. “…Yeah, well, we better start running then.” Sam grinned. “You ready?”

Max exhaled. "Hell no. But let’s go."

Then they ran. Bullets tore past them. They weaved between cars, ducking low, using wreckage as cover.

Suddenly—a blur of movement.

A man lunged from the shadows, tackling Sam to the ground. Max skidded to a stop, heart dropping. Sam barely had time to react before a fist slammed into his ribs. Another hit followed—a brutal hook to the jaw.

Watching the fight happening in front of his eyes, Max was ready to jump in and help sam but then - the grip on Max’s wrist took him by a suprise and it was like a vise, twisting his arm so far back that pain shot through his shoulder.

A second later, his chest slammed into the pavement. The impact rattled his ribs, his breath torn from his lungs in a choked gasp.

Move. Don’t freeze.

He felt the weight of the man shifting above him—his attacker trying to get a stronger hold. Max gritted his teeth and yanked his arm forward, rolling onto his side just enough to jam his elbow into the guy’s knee.

A sharp grunt. The grip loosened. Max didn’t wait. Using the momentum, he twisted free and planted both feet firmly against the pavement. Then he kicked.

His boot crashed into the man’s chest like a sledgehammer. The force sent him staggering back, a deep, guttural cough escaping as he nearly lost his balance.

Max didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.

He launched forward, grabbing the man’s collar and slamming his fist into his jaw. Once. Twice. A third time. The guy’s head snapped back, but then— A second attacker. Max barely registered the movement before a fist collided with his ribs. A sickening crunch.

Pain exploded through his side, knocking the breath from his lungs. He stumbled back, clutching his ribs, vision momentarily spinning.

Stay up. Don’t go down.

The second man was bigger, stronger. His smirk was slow, deliberate—like he was enjoying this. "Not bad, kid," he taunted, cracking his knuckles.

Max wiped the blood from his lip and exhaled hard, forcing himself to focus.

Then he moved. He ducked under the man’s next punch, twisting his body and bringing up his knee. A sharp hit to the gut. The man grunted, doubling over slightly. Max didn’t give him time to recover. He brought his elbow down onto the back of his neck, sending him to one knee.

But the first guy wasn’t down yet. Max barely turned in time to see him lunging.

His instincts screamed. At the last second, Max twisted out of the way, grabbed the man’s arm, and used his momentum against him—flipping him forward. The attacker’s back slammed into the pavement.

Sam groaned, pushing himself up from the ground, wiping blood from his busted lip.

"Show-off."

Max scoffed, shoving the unconscious guy aside like he was nothing. He stepped in front of Sam, rolling his shoulders before extending a hand to pull him up. “Yeah, well, this show-off just saved your sorry ass.”

Then Max gave him a once-over, lips curling in mock disgust. “Guess I didn’t have to.”

Sam grinned, shaking his head as he clapped a hand on Max’s shoulder. “You alright, man?”

Max hesitated. His body ached. His heartbeat still hadn’t fully settled from the fight, the adrenaline making his hands tremble slightly. But he exhaled, forcing a nod. “Yeah. I mean—I survived, right?”

Sam studied him for a second, then nodded back. “Good. ’Cause it’s your turn to order pizza tonight, dumbass.” He nudged Max’s arm playfully.

Max rolled his eyes, already opening his mouth to fire back—

BANG!

The world shattered. Pain—sharp, searing, unforgiving—ripped through Max’s side. His breath hitched. He barely even registered the sound of the gunshot before his legs buckled beneath him.

Sam didn’t hesitate. He caught Max before he hit the ground, dragging him behind cover. "Max? Max?!"

Max's eyes fluttered, dazed. A slow, creeping warmth spread across his ribs, and when Sam's hands pressed against his side—red. Dark, pooling, spreading red.

Sam’s stomach dropped. "Shit—shit, stay with me, man. Just keep your eyes open—”

Max sucked in a sharp breath, vision blurring at the edges. The pain wasn’t even the worst part—it was the cold. Crawling up his spine, numbing his fingers, slowing everything down. Across the smoke-filled street, a figure emerged.

Shadow. She lowered her gun, pressing a finger to her earpiece. Her voice, sharp and clipped, cut through the static. “цель устранена. достижение успешное.”

But then—another voice crackled through her earpiece. "цель сбежала. миссия... провалилась." Her breath caught. No. Not again.

She took a slow step back, her heartbeat thudding against her ribs like a warning. Her fingers twitched at her sides as memories threatened to surface—the Soldier. The mission. The failure.

This was just like before.

She turned on her heel, walking stiffly toward the waiting black SUV. The agents inside didn’t ask questions. They knew better. Inside the car, Shadow pressed her forehead against her hands, breathing shallowly. When does this end?

Sam was still pressing down on Max’s wound, hands slick with blood. “Max, c’mon, open your eyes—stay with me, man, stay with me.”

Max exhaled shakily, eyes barely focusing. “S-Sam?” Sam nodded quickly. “Yeah, yeah, I’m right here, buddy.”

Max swallowed, his throat dry. “Listen. You’re… you’re gonna save my sister, okay? Promise me.”

Sam felt his chest tighten. Max lifted a trembling pinky finger. Even now—dying in his arms—this dumbass was making him pinky promise. Sam let out a choked laugh, blinking hard to keep his vision clear. He linked their fingers together..“Yeah, yeah, you got it, man. But first?” His grip tightened. “You gotta stay awake for me, alright?”

Max’s breathing hitched. His eyelids drooped. “…Max?”

No. No, no, no— Sam’s hands shook. His heart slammed against his ribs.

“Max—HEY—STAY AWAKE, MAN!"

TO BE CONTINUED...

translation-

Тоска - longing

ржавый - rusted

печь - furnance

рассвет - daybreak

семнадцать - seventeen

доброкачественный - benign

девять - nine

возвращение домой - homecoming

один - one

грузовой вагон - freight car

[ninus9607]

❝𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐥 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬❞

𝟨. 𝐻𝑜𝓌 𝒾𝓈 𝒾𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝒹𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝑔𝒻

Pairing(s): Marvel Characters x Female! reader

Word count: 0.6k

Warning: nothing

tags l content: fluff

AN: I hope you like it.... please forgive me for every mistake!! English is not my first language!

Natasha Romanoff / Black Widow

-Just like with Bucky, it takes a while for her to get used to all this love, but once she does, Nat turns out to be the best lover there ever was.

- Everyone may think that your Natasha hates the PDA, but she literally LOVES it!

- Even if she tries to cut it off in public, she will still have her arm wrapped around your waist or she will touch you in some way. (wink wink)

- Her dry sense of humor comes alive when she's with you. She loves to tease you gently and always enjoys your comebacks.

- She really can't cook! She once tried to make you breakfast and almost set the kitchen on fire.

- Missions together!❤️

- She loves being a big spoon but secretly loves being held and can be a little spoon.

- Some of your best moments together happen late at night when the world is quiet. She'll open up about her fears, dreams, and everything in between.

- Although she is a very skilled killer, she would never hurt you and if she did it accidentally during training, she would hate herself even more.

- you're comforting her after a terrible nightmare... ─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡

Wanda Maximoff / Scarlet witch

- She literally loves everything about you.

- She uses her powers to make life a little more magical. From conjuring a bouquet of flowers to creating tiny glowing lights in your favorite colors, she loves making you smile with her abilities.

-At first, she was afraid to use her powers around you, but you have proved to her that you are not afraid of them and that you love her.

- Queen of PDA.

- Magic hands (wink wink)🪄

- She loves watching you sleep.

- Wanda enjoys cooking for you and takes pride in preparing Sokovian dishes from her childhood

- Wanda loves quiet, domestic moments - cooking together, tending to a small garden, or simply enjoying a lazy day at home. She finds peace in these little rituals.

- Maybe she's a little bit obsessed with you - she loves you and doesn't want to lose you.

- She is very protective and can be jealous at times.

- But you love each other so much that you can't imagine life without each other. ─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡

Agatha Harkness

- She never thought that she was worthy of love because her own mother didn't give it to her, but when she met you, she knew that you were special to her.

- She thought that you were too good for her because she thought that you were a goddess, but you convinced her that you weren't such an innocent after all.

- Ever since Salem, you have been living together and fighting your way through the world as one.

- She kept hiding how much she loved you because she thought you didn't love her the same way.

- Being centuries old, Agatha has a unique view on romance. She enjoys traditional, old-fashioned gestures like writing you letters, lighting candles during dinner, and slow dancing in the living room.

- She loves your fangs!

- She loves to use her magic to amuse you...

- Just when you thought that Wanda was a little bit obsessive, Agatha is 100% obsessive and she admits it!

- She loves you and that means she will always protect you, she will want your full attention 24/7 and of course, she will be jealous of anyone who looks at you for a while.

- Dominant😈

- But you understand her and you know she's afraid that one day you'll realize you want someone else, but you know that'll never happen, so sometimes you let her get jealous and push you to the door and mark you as hers. (wink wink)

AN: Hope you enjoyed it and see you for the next part of love.

PS: Guys... I turned into a giggling mess when I wrote this

XX

[forsaken-headcanons]

Some Jane Doe headcanons (and a few other characters)

Jane doe acts almost like a mother figure towards the survivors and even some of the killers (mainly c00lkidd and Guest 666) which they respect her for.

If she were to ever find a way to meet The Spectre she would most likely try and absolutely beat the living shit out of them (it was when she found out that c00lkidd was a 10 year old)

She loves to craft.

She acts like a mother towards c00lkidd and would often give him small candy's.

I would imagine that she would be taller than John doe (John being 5,6 and Jane being 5,11) John also likes being the little spoon when being cuddle.

Noob and Guest 666 headcanons:

He is very good and making his own caramel candy, he wanted to learn on how to make some so he could give them to Guest 666 (he still makes them out of habit and he does give them to Guest 666 in-between rounds)

Guest 666 will show up to the survivors cabin to hang out with noob, they've gotten used to it at this point.

When Noob first encountered Guest 666 in a round Guest didn't kill him, he just started to sniff Noob (Noob had caramel in his pocket) Noob gave him the caramel which made Guest very happy that he purred very loudly. He then picked up Noob by the scruff of his neck and just cuddled him for the rest of the round (the others were very confused on why they haven't seen the killer and noob when that happened)

Noob and Guest 666 both made their own markings for each other, one of Noobs arm and the other on one of Guest's horns.

Ok that's all i got for now

Ah, the full thing of the matching Noob and Guest 666 markings post. Love to see it.

[ask-lab-rats]

For creator: will u make a thread or maybe summary post about the plot? I just got here and don’t know where to start or what’s going on 😅 but I want to!

CreatorNotes: Sure! I'll give u links to posts I deem important and a little summary.

But I highly recommend scrolling thru (I know it's long but I think it's worth it) especially if u want to get to know the characters more and see how they evolved over the story :)

Also I started making "arcs" but I stopped cuz they all kinda blended together. The only ones I did were Vent arc and Calls arc.

Some stuff we get introduced in the beginning:

Balloon doesn't trust Taco

They do not like Dr. Cobs

Taco is s1 Taco (mostly) at start

OJ does not like Balloon

They've lived their whole lives in the lab. They were born/made there

The kids get put thru tests. Physical, emotional, experimental, intelligence, and ability related

They've seen the world thru pictures online

Taco is a spy, working w/ Cobs

The other doctors are nicer than cobs

Bow thinks her parents abandoned her.

Bow turns 18!

Tests - Abilities - Schedule - Balloon's tests - More tests - More stuff - Baxter first appearance - Apple - A failed plan - Bow's powers - Knife breaks his wrist

Vent arc: Knife gives Balloon a pocket knife. Balloon decides to open a grate on the ceiling w/ it. He realizes it's too small to fit. - Lightbulb - So he takes Taco up there. - Taco - Taco almost gets caught - Thankfully Taco is not caught. She decided to look around Cobs office for info. She finds notes on her, Pickle, and something called Project B.O.T. she also find a sticky note w/ Cobs kids phone numbers. - End

Calls arc: Start - As Taco turns around she bumbs into Dr. Spoon who immediately takes her back to the lab. Cobs returns and claims he saw someone. He asks who it was. - Paintbrush - OJ yells at Taco, upset that she let PB take the blame for her mistake. She tries to explain but OJ doesn't listen. So instead she readies herself to fight. - Fight - The kids quickly call a doctor. - Dr. Fizz - OJ is put in confinement for a few hours. OJ soon returns but Taco and PB have not.

Paintbrush returns - Tessa - Haircut

While they wait, the anons reveal that taco is a traitor. They attempted to warn her that she's been found out but she's high on pain killers and and can't comprehend it good. But she understands when she wakes up. Taco returns to the lab and immediately gets in another argument w/ OJ

Taco's reveal - Half blind - Taco's panic attack

We're introduced to Evil Paper, or as he prefers, Looseleaf.

Balloon is scared to leave the lab

Taco in her "emo arc" she then takes a break from the blog. But she eventually comes back

Bow makes a map w/ help from ghosts

OJ somewhat apologizes to Taco

An anon makes PB mad, causing them to burn themself w/ their ability

Tessa find the kids - People explain to Tessa what is going on. She vows to help these kids escape. She eventually has to leave and is almost caught but thankfully not. She then returns home and tells Finley what happened. Fin also decides to help save the kid. - Remembering - Bow learns that her mother never abandoned her. Tessa and Dr. Parker decide to work together.

Currently Tessa is back in the lab w/ the kids

This definitely isn't including everything. (Like the doctors personal lore) Just anything important to the kids stories.

Like I said, please look through it yourself. But I hope this helped eitherway :D

[ebongawk]

WAIT OK I HAVE ANOTHER ONE it’s prob cheating to send two so you can save this for another time but!!!! just chrissy fidgeting w eddie’s jewelry. his rings, his necklace. like she’s anxious abt smth and over time learned instead of like biting her nails or pulling hangnails or smth he’ll let her do that

Chrissy always had an issue with biting her nails.

As a child, whenever she was anxious about school, or nervous about dance competitions or cheer routines, her nails found their way between her teeth, chewed ragged and brittle.

Her mother called her disgusting. A ruler or wooden spoon was often produced, seemingly from thin air, to smack Chrissy across the back of her hands whenever they found their way into her mouth.

The main reason she started painting her nails was because the chemical taste of the polish made her nauseous. As her issues with food worsened, nausea became increasingly harder to control, and she found herself in the bathroom more often than not.

Her nerves, however, found new ways to ruin her.

Using those pretty nails she now sported, Chrissy dug into her cuticles. Picking at dry skin or tiny abrasions, creating hangnails she could then tear away.

Jason called her disgusting. Lightly smacking her hands with his own or with his school notebooks. Telling her constantly that every part of her was so pretty, but she was ruining her hands. Ruining the illusion of beauty he cast upon her by reminding him that she was human.

She couldn't break up with her mom. But she did break up with Jason.

Free of his oppressing weight, the urge to pick at her nailbeds lessened. It didn't disappear completely, of course, but she found healthy skin growing over her tiny scars.

Then she started hanging out with Eddie. And, for a little while, she didn't even notice how her fingertips stopped bleeding.

One day, sitting at the lunch table Eddie and his friends occupied, Chrissy's mind had been sloughing through the finals they had coming up. She was decently confident about most of them, but O'Donnell could be killer when it came to testing. Often asking things not covered by the study guide, so she and Eddie had spent the past four afternoons in his bedroom, textbooks open and flashcards made, trying to get one another ready for their teacher's unhinged brutality.

Her anxiety, during this thought spiral, had heightened exponentially. She stopped moving all at once when she remembered that Sandra had taken a bad scrape during practice yesterday – cheer season was over, but Chrissy was determined to keep the younger girls occupied through the year so they wouldn't be so rusty when they came back in August – and she'd used her last band-aid for the scrapes.

Sighing, Chrissy looked down to inspect the damage.

And saw Eddie's hand in her lap.

She glanced over. Eddie was still fully engaged in whatever conversation he was having with Jeff – his unoccupied hand twisting and twirling through the air to accentuate his points. But his left hand was loose between hers, one of his rings twisted to face his palm.

Chrissy twisted the ring back to right. Then did another circuit, finding it strange how natural it was to fiddle with his rings.

Looking up at Eddie again, he met her eye with a curious smile. Tilting his head to one side in silent question that she just shrugged at, instead scooting the tiniest bit closer and dropping herself seamlessly back into the conversation.

She didn't think of it again for a few weeks. Until she and Eddie were tucked up at his home, watching some British scary movie called Underworld and sharing a bowl of popcorn. They'd started the evening next to one another, but as the movie progressed, Chrissy found herself almost entirely in Eddie's lap. Curling into his side with every scary part, until her knees were tucked up to her chest and her feet were pressed between his thighs.

Every jump scare made her wince, shoving her face into Eddie's shoulder and peeking through one eye until the scary parts were over.

The movie was almost completely finished before she registered Eddie's hand in her lap. Her fingers twisting the rings around his over and over, slipping them up and down his knuckles.

Her nailbeds had never looked so healthy.

Remaining quiet until the previews ran, Chrissy slipped from Eddie's lap, standing and stretching as Eddie moved to flip on the light.

"What'dya think?" he asked, picking up the popcorn bowl and a few stray kernels before walking it into the kitchen. "Weird, yeah? Did I fill your weekly scary movie prescription, Miss Cunningham?"

She'd told him, ages ago, that she wanted to start liking scary movies, because he loved them so much. They now had a weekly movie date, watching something from his repertoire of slasher films before loading one of her favorite romance tapes into the VCR.

(Tonight, it was Breakfast at Tiffany's.)

"Yes, Dr. Munson, it was exactly what I needed," she said around a grin, walking into the kitchen with him. He had his back to her, squatting in front of the fridge for another movie snack, and Chrissy wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Hoisting herself onto his back and pressing her cheek against his neck.

Beneath her, Eddie let out a little chuckle. Something Chrissy turned her head to taste with her lips against his spine.

"That freaked out, sweetness?" he asked, grabbing a jar of the strawberry jam he kept just for her and a couple cans of Coke before standing. Keeping herself firmly affixed to his body with her legs around his waist.

"No," Chrissy answered. "Just wanted to be close to you, that's all."

Eddie huffed, setting his wares down and yanking her further up his back. Situating her to be a little more comfortable before he grabbed peanut butter and the half-eaten loaf of bread from the pantry.

"Yeah?" He paused in his actions, setting the clean butter knife he'd just grabbed next to the jam. "We can, uh. We can get a hell of a lot closer, y'know. If that's your real aim here."

Gosh, he could be such a boy sometimes. Chrissy snorted, burying her face in his neck.

"But what about Breakfast at Tiffany's?"

"Audrey Hepburn will be waiting for us when we're finished, sweet girl." The hand around her knee slid up, gently stroking the outside of her thigh. "Or we can put her on in the background. Make her bear witness to our incredible physical connection."

"Eddie."

"Chrissy."

Rolling her eyes, Chrissy tapped her healthy, wound-free fingertips against his collar.

"Bedroom," she finally said, laughing loudly when Eddie whooped and threw a fist in the air before sprinting down the hallway.

After, as they lay together in a sweaty pile of contentment, Chrissy snuggled into Eddie's chest. Eyes closed, relishing in the smooth, easy way his hand drifted up and down her side, from her hip to her ribs and down again.

"Eddie?"

"Hmm?" He took a final puff of his cigarette before ashing it.

"When did you notice that I pick at my nails?"

He hummed, rolling that thought around in his mind.

"I dunno," he admitted after a moment. "Early, I guess? Beginning."

Tapping her fingers against his stomach, she took his hand where it had continuously been drifting against her skin, bringing it up and pressing her lips against the rings.

"How come I didn't realize you distracted me?"

"I can't answer that, sweetness," he responded around a shrug. "I just figured you needed something to fiddle with. Better my hands than yours, in my opinion."

Chrissy paused, letting that sink in, before she opened her eyes and looked at him.

"What, so you were gonna let me pick at your nails?"

Eddie just shrugged again, a new grin stretching his cheeks. Dimples coming to life under her disbelieving grimace.

"If that's what it took."

"Eddie, that's so gross."

"Guess it's good you picked at my rings and not my nails then, huh?"

"Why would you let anyone––"

"Not anyone," he interrupted, taking her hand in his and letting her fingertips fall across his lips. "Just you."

Oh, the way he could so simply send a swarm of butterflies to flight in her stomach.

"I don't want you to hurt yourself," he said after a moment, honesty dripping like honey from his words. Sprinkling droplets of sticky sincerity across her skin, so she'd feel the mess of his truths for days and years to come. Waggling his eyebrows, he finished by saying, "But I don't mind if you hurt me a little sometimes."

"Eddie."

"Slap me, baby, I know you want to."

"Oh, my God."

[georgeweasleyslostearhq]

EDDIE MUNSON HCs P.1- sfw

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just some headcannons i have for our boy <3 (I'll make a nsfw version tmr)

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Eddie hates being alone, he was always left alone at home as a kid, His mum working her second job in late afternoons and his dad leaving to get drunk at the local dive bar. it just makes him feel neglected and brings him back to his childhood self's feelings.

I think we all know this guy has a massive snoring problem, but he also kicks you off the bed, hogs the blanket and talks yells in his sleep, sometimes even slaps you in the face when he turns around.

^ he also has terrible nightmares sometimes, waking up in sweat after his dad beat him up in his dream, almost brought to tears as he struggles to breath, during this he'll look around his room frantically and pat the bed, trying to grab or see anything comforting to him, just trying to calm down.

he bites his nails when nervous or anxious of something

he secretly sleeps with a Russ Berrie Bear named Ozzy

^ his mother had saved up money to get it for his 5th birthday, and even though its been 15 years, Eddie still holds onto it.

he'll help out the old lady that lives in the trailer behind him and wayne, usually with hanging close or look for her cat, and always turn down the money she tries to give him, but always accepts a slice of pie she has sitting on the sill

he loves caramel, he'll always have a caramel candy in his pocket or a chew in his locker

he's seen Grease over 10 times, he just won't admit it. he'll even mimic the lines.

loves bad and shit made movies, they make him laugh, specifically Attack of the killer tomatoes

at 16 years old, he claimed he wanted to be 'one with nature' and went 'camping' out in the woods by the trailer park, he came back and wayne had to hear all about how his body itches and he swears that he had fought off a racoon. never did it again

when he first started living with wayne, he believed that the mirrors were portals (cause he didn't have mirrors) and tried to run though the mirror in his new room, obviously it broke and he has a scar on his arm.

loves peanut butter- if he feels like a snack, he'll grab a spoon and just go to town.

if you were to ask Eddie what his favourite non metal song is, he'd laugh and say 'yeah right, as if', but if you were to ask him on a deeper level, he would say 'purple rain' by prince or 'Born Under A Bad Sign' by Albert King

^his mum loved blues music and one of the only memories he has of her is her dancing to Born under a bad sign in their livingroom and Eddie watched.

^ at the age of 16, Wayne had given Eddie a mixtape of his mothers, he plays all of the music when he misses her.

Hates pickles

Last time he wet the bed was at 8 years old. His dad made him watch the exorcist and the poor boy cried himself to sleep and woke up covered in pee, his nightmares have always been bad

he's good with a gun and shooting because his dad used to force him into hunting with him, which only ended up traumatising him.

hates coffee, he thinks this is too bitter

^he likes tea though, not his favourite drink but it's better than coffee.

[itwoodbeprefect]

i was tagged by @star-pacifist (<3³), who is of course NOT the person who has been tagging me in other things but an entirely different tumblr user. don't worry about it.

rules: tagger gives a word, then for each letter of that word you share an excerpt from your WIPs that start with that letter.

the word i was handed is DOGS! 🐶🐶

D

the first lines of an angsty bad buddy character study thing in second person, called The 5 Stages of Greed:

1. Denial He’s back. No – you’re back. But he’s back too: back in the bedroom right across from yours, back in the disapproving lines on your mother’s face, back in your thoughts, back in your life, back in that hidden soft little spot in your heart where he fits so well.

O

portion of a fic in reference to the canonical "cok long" neon sign on peaceful property:

“Oh, I don’t-” Kan tries. Pangpang merrily barrels on. “Like, for example it could turn into-” Sadly, the world will never know how Pangpang would have finished that sentence, because Kan’s hand closes firmly over her mouth, and she makes a surprised noise instead. It leaves Home with serious questions. “But how would you do that? What kind of sign would say vagina when it breaks?” Even allowing for some creative English spelling and grammar, that’s a pretty tall order. There’s some mumbled suggestion from Pangpang, but what she’s saying only becomes intelligible for a second, when she wrangles Kan’s hand away before Kan slings her other arm around her and covers her mouth again. “Pussy!” reverberates through the room.

G

from a starsky and hutch fic that's set just before the tag scene of the kira episode, in which they're putting their heads together to write a script on how to confront her:

“Good,” he says, distractedly. “Yeah,” Starsky adds, vaguely. “Uh huh.” “Right.”  “Okay.” “Nice.” Hutch is all out of noncommittal affirmatives, so he tries something else. “Huggy isn’t here right now.” There’s something connected to that, something it could lead to. He finds it after a moment of distraction caused by how full of anticipation Starsky looks. “We could practice, just in case.” There’s something that’s not quite hope in the quick twitch of the corner of Starsky’s mouth – something a step beyond it. Trust, maybe. “Hey, that’s a thought. You never know what might come up.”

S

from a fic which, if it ever gets finished, will be a single scene of pure silly fluff, written for the best tv series i've ever seen about a zoo penguin who gets turned into a human high schooler (the fic is tentatively called "How to break the ice if you love a penguin"):

“Sun is looking at penguins.” “I’m not.” He really isn’t. He’s looking at things penguins might like, which is entirely different. There’s only one penguin he wants to look at, and he’s not on the computer.

as a bonus, the topically relevant (assuming the topic is DOGS) current first words of a the heart killers fic that doesn't have an opening line yet:

“You’re the knife, I’m the fork. One’s no good without the other.” There’s a lot he could do with just a knife, but he’s not telling Style that. A fork can deliver a mean jab, too. “Maybe one day we’ll adopt a little spoon,” Style continues, dreamy. It’s hard to tell if he’s joking or serious, but that’s par for the course with him. “What’s a spoon?” Fadel asks, and then he hears himself, and makes the conscious decision not to worry about the kinds of words Style has him putting together. “Do you want a puppy or a child?” “I think both would be cute. They could play with each other. I could teach him about cars.” “The dog?” “You’re a dog.”

i'll pass on WORD as my word, and i'll send some no pressure invites to play: @redgoldblue @wereflamingo-in-thai-dramaland @actingcamplibrarian @luredin @spaceradars @girlonastring, and anyone else who writes anything, ever. doesn't have to be fic! could be original fiction. could be your thesis. could be your shopping list. go wild.

[jasontoddenthusiastt]

The recent influx of “Jason is obviously a bad person. Look at how many people he’s killed” posts is 2x more idiotic because it runs on the same premise as “Jason is a cop symbol”. There’s an infinitely more famous example right next to him that people ignore entirely.

In the real world killing people is a felony, just as vigilantism as a whole is too. The same way Batman is a fictional character in a fake world, Jason is not part of the real world either. I think if you’re above age 10 you should’ve moved past the stage of trying to point fingers to try to determine a right vs wrong way to do illegal vigilantism in a world like the dcu while pretending it’s a perfect model of a real society lol.

Batman enjoys maiming and crippling people (bad things). Why is he working with cops and throwing drug addicts into prison after beating the tar out of them (bad things). It’s proven in the real world that that does not do anything to rehabilitate them and in fact costs the government billions of dollars and actually worsens the war on drugs (higher mortality & crime rates, and increased spread of infectious diseases). Yet since the authors constantly spoon feed you lines about how heroic he is people just eat that shit up, disregarding the fact that it might be utter horseshit irl and his morals wouldn’t make much sense either.

If ‘character doing bad thing’ is synonymous with ‘character can’t possibly be a good person’, then that should negate the idea that Batman’s biggest trait is compassion (although I think it already does for other in-story reasons lol, re: he tends to be classist and discriminatory towards people who commit petty crimes, calling them degrading names like “trash” and “bottom-feeders”. No amount of donating to charity makes you a good person if at your core you see poor/homeless people as lesser and you get a kick out of mocking them).

There’s far more evidence of Jason possessing all the good traits the authors keep begging you to believe Batman has. He patiently fed and cared for his dying mother all alone as a small baby/child. He literally fed groups of homeless people like a mother hen everyday while he himself was homeless, brain dead, and running on basic survival instincts. After finally regaining higher functioning in his brain and discovering the joker was still alive, one of the first things he cried about was the countless number of other innocent people dead at the hands of his own killer. If the only justification you have for why Jason’s a bad person is that he kills, that’s a weak and baseless argument for obvious reasons.

[lastofthemadones]

I have made a Rae playlist to match my Key one

I still don't have Spotify so the YouTube Music link is here.

You can find the Key playlist here

Brooklyn - Maisie Peters If you're looking, if you're looking for the girl of your dreams, She's in Brooklyn with me, she's in Brooklyn with me

I Did Something Bad - Taylor Swift They say I did something bad, Then why's it feel so good?

EAT ME - Demi Lovatio (feat. Royal & the Serpent) I can't spoon-feed you anymore, Dinner's served, it's on the floor, I can't spoon-feed you anymore, You'll have to eat me as I am

This Year - The Mountain Goats I am gonna make it through this year if it kills me, I am gonna make it through this year if it kills me

You First - Paramore Everyone is a bad guy, And there's no way, no way to know, Who's the worst, Karma's gonna come for all of us, And I hope, well, I hope, I just hope, She comes, comes for you first, oh

Thick Skull - Paramore I am a magnet for broken pieces, I am attracted to broken people, I pick 'em up and now my fingers are bleeding, And it looks like my fault, And it looks like I'm caught red-handed

Bubblegum Bitch - MARINA Hit me with your sweet love, steal me with a kiss, I'm Miss Sugar Pink, liquor, liquor lips, I'm gonna be your bubblegum bitch

Killa - Cherish (feat. Yung Joc) [Shoutout to @thegoosereads who mentioned this song for the Key playlist and while I agree I also think it's a good Rae one] Shawty is a killer, But I really want him, And I got to have him tonight, Straight heart breaker, But it really don't matter, 'Cause I really want him tonight

good 4 u - Olivia Rodrigo Well good for you, You look happy and healthy, not me, If you ever cared to ask

King - Florence + the Machine But a woman is a changeling, always shifting shape, Just when you think you have it figured out, Something new begins to take, What strange claws are these scratching at my skin?, I never knew my killer would be coming from within, I am no mother, I am no bride, I am king

A Little Evil Never Hurt Anyone [shoutout @kadharonon for immaculate vibes] Just do it in anger, Just do it for fun, A little evil never hurt anyone

girl i've always been - Olivia Rodrigo Well, I have captors I call friends, I got panic rooms inside my head, And I get down with crooked men, But I am the girl I've always been

Bad Reputation - Joan Jett I've never been afraid of any deviation, An' I don't really care, If ya think I'm strange, I ain't gonna change, An' I'm never gonna care, 'Bout my bad reputation

Villains Aren't Born (They're Made) - PEGGY Count your blessings, count your minutes, Played my game, hell, now you're in it, Bittersweet, my renegade, And I'm anything but tame, Grab your sword, you might just need it, 'Cause I'm not afraid of cheatin', Oh, I hate to tell you this way, But villains aren't born, Darlin', they're made

Getaway Car - Taylor Swift It was the best of times, the worst of crimes, I struck a match and blew your mind, But I didn't mean it and you didn't see it, The ties were black, the lies were white, In shades of grey in candlelight, I wanted to leave him, I needed a reason

Hate me Harder - Kesha You're spending all that time and energy, Wasted on me, it's so flattering, You say I look like I just crawled out of a trash can, You say I'm obnoxious, nobody was asking, Luckily the jokes on you, I've got nothing left to prove

bad guy - Billie Eilish So you're a tough guy, Like it really rough guy, Just can't get enough guy, Chest always so puffed guy, I'm that bad type, Make your mama sad type, Make your girlfriend mad tight, Might seduce your dad type, I'm the bad guy

[sadly-never-after]

Mitski's Your Best American Girl is Lizzie about Daring after Kitty's diary

But, big spoon, you have so much to do And I have nothing ahead of me [...] Your mother wouldn't approve of how my mother raised me But I do, I think I do And you're an all-American boy I guess I couldn't help trying to be your best American girl

Mitski' Drunk Walk Home is Duchess about Daring after what I hope was an atrocious date

And I sit on the curb 'cause it's the prettiest night  With no one else in sight  You know I wore this dress for you  These killer heels for you  See the dark, it moves  With every breath of the breeze [Desperate Screaming]

Sir Chloe's Too Close is Sparrow to Duchess during True Hearts Day

You're so unsure You're so afraid Don't tell me to listen When you got nothing to say You get too close Take the one I love the most And I think it's time for you to go Make it so hard And you know you've gone too far I think it's time for you to go

Catabolic Seed is basically the Duchess Swan anthem particularly when it comes to her feelings towards her own destiny

And I always fall flat on my back Like an upside-down cat But is bad luck really such a crime? [...] If you won't be my valentine Could you at least give me a little bit of sympathy? [...] I can't run, I can't hide (And I will protect you) But you can't say I didn't try (Even if you won't protect me too)