#and she was never avenged! they never mentioned her in the songs! she was forgotten and nobody except her brothers mourned her. good god.

[trashywormeateroffics]

i hate men (natasha romanoff x female reader)

the gif is not mine!

summary: so… being hopelessly in love with your best friend and getting super drunk is not the best combination? who would’ve thought? (a bit of angst but mostly fluff)

a/n: send me natasha requests if you want to!!!!!! you can send me normal requests, or you can also send me a taylor swift song and i’ll write a natasha fic with it!

masterlist

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you hated stark parties. they were loud, messy, annoying and did you mention loud?

being an introvert was a difficult task at the avengers compound, where these sort of events were being held every two weeks.

sighing, you gulp down the last of your drink. today you chose a coke, since you didn’t want to get drunk and embarrass yourself like the others always did.

“having fun?”

“no!” you say over enthusiastically. natasha snorts and shakes her head at you from behind the bar. she looks stunning, wearing a tight black dress that hugs her body perfectly and her red hair loose and wild. she never goes heavy on the make up, you noticed. not that she needs it, she’s breathtakingly beautiful without it.

“you should at least dance to one song, maybe you’ll even enjoy it.” she says, pulling you out of your not so friendly thoughts of her.

“i refuse.”

“don’t act like a petulant child.”

“don’t act like my mother.” natasha smirks. god that smirk. “if you call yourself mommy, i’m leaving.” the redhead shrugs.

“you handed it to me on a silver platter.”

“whatever.” you roll your eyes.

“i’ll have a manhattan, please.” a man slides up next to you on a barstool. natasha nods and begins preparing his drink. you don’t fail to notice the man’s lascivious look as he stares at her. it makes your blood boil. you know she hates when men sexualize her. and, truth be told, you hate it too. maybe not always for the right reasons, but most of the time they are. natasha romanoff is the best person in the entire world. she is also your favorite person in the entire world. she’s super smart, she’s so funny you almost peed yourself an embarrassing amount of times in front of her, she’s brave, she’s so goddamn brave you sometimes wish she wasn’t so she wouldn’t put herself at risk. but that’s the thing about natasha, she does that because she cares. she cares so much about everyone, and contrary to what people would think, it’s not because she feels guilty for her past, but because she’s good. her heart is so good, so kind. and she’s strong, the strongest. you know what she went through and still, she remained good. that takes a hell of a lot strength. and yes, she’s hot. she’s so fucking hot sometimes you can’t believe she’s even real. but she’s so much more than that. she’s your best friend, and the woman that you-

“thanks, gorgeous.” the man’s voice brings you back to reality and you look at him, hoping you’re shooting lasers out of your eyes and burning him. natasha simply nods and looks at you from the corner of her eye. you know what that look means, you know what every look means. if he tries something, i’m gonna shoot him.

you purse your lips to stop yourself from laughing loudly, your anger long forgotten when she enters your line of sight.

the man clears his throat, trying to gain her attention.

“so, you from around here?”

“no.” she tells him. then, she gives him a fake smile. “if you don’t mind, i’m pretty busy.” he does not seem to take the hint, so you turn to him.

“she’s asking you to leave.”

“and who are you?”

“one of tony stark’s closest friends. you wouldn’t want to be black listed for his parties for eternity, would you?” the man widens his eyes a bit. “yeah, i thought so. now, leave.” you shoo him away with a gesture of your hand, almost dismissively and he, thank every god that exists, gets up and leaves.

“my knight in shining armor.” natasha tells you, smirking. “you saved me.” you wish she was right. you wish you had done it to save her instead of yourself. but, to be frank, you didn’t. of course you don’t want her to feel uncomfortable, but you know she can handle herself just fine. the one who couldn’t stand it was you. you are an idiot. an idiot who’s hopelessly in love with her best friend.

“sorry, i know you can defend yourself. i just-“

“you just what?” she raises an eyebrow. you know that expression. it means she’s challenging you to tell her.

“i just hate men.” for a second, she looks almost disappointed. but you probably imagined that.

“yeah.” she nods. “i’m gonna head to the ladies room.” and then she leaves.

you sigh and run your hands over your face. natasha romanoff is going to be the death of you. but oh, what a sweet death.

“when are you gonna tell her?” sam’s voice makes you lift your head up.

“tell who what?”

“tell natasha that you love her.”

“i’ve already told her that a million times.”

“no.” he shakes his head. “that you love her love her, that you wanna kiss her.” you scoff.

“never. oh and also, could you keep it quiet? what if she hears you?”

“then finally you will both admit that you’re in love with one another and stop giving each other longing glances across every single room you’re in.”

“i don’t give her longing glances.” you lie. of course you do.

“uh-huh.”

“whatever samantha. don’t care, didn’t ask. plus i don’t even know if she likes girls.”

“she likes you.”

“as a friend.”

“you are so goddamn stubborn…” he begins saying, but his voice fades into the background when you see her. your breathing stops. she’s dancing. she’s swaying her hips and smiling and she looks so fucking angelic you want to pinch yourself because, surely, this must be a dream. but then, your heart drops to your stomach. he’s touching her. he has his fucking hands on her hips as he dances behind her and she isn’t pushing him away. you feel sick to your stomach. “hey, you there?” sam waves his hand in front of you. “hey…?” he trails off. then he probably follows your line of sight because he ohs in understanding. he says your name and pity drips from it. “they’re just dancing.”

“yeah.” you say, choked up. you hate that seeing her with someone else makes your heart burn from the pain. but it does, and it hurts so much. it was the first time since you admitted to yourself that you were in love with her that you saw her with another person. a man. stupid men and their stupid hands. tears well up in your eyes, but you won’t cry. you refuse to cry. not for love. never.

“what are you doing?” sam asks you as you walk all the way around the bar and crouch under it. “don’t.” he tells you when he sees what’s in your hands. you look at him dead in the eye and gulp down the whiskey straight from the bottle.

\\\\

“woo! this is so fun!” you shout over the music. you’ve been dancing for almost an hour now and you were most definitely drunk. you don’t even notice sam and natasha calling your name.

“what are you doing? you hate drinking.” the redhead frowns.

“maybe it’s time for someone to go to bed.”

“yes, nat. go to bed.” you tell her.

“no, whiskey straight out of the bottle, i’m talking about you.” you laugh at sam’s long nickname but then you pout when you sway and almost fall to the floor. “you wanna take care of it?” he asks the spy and she nods.

“i’ll take her to bed.”

“and what will we do there?” you ask suggestively. natasha looks at you unimpressed.

“you, lay down. me, scold you.”

“are you gonna spank me?” you smirk. she swallows hard. uh oh, she’s mad. you raise your hands innocently in front of you and she rolls her eyes.

“let’s go.” you want to protest but you know better than that. begrudgingly you begin following her, but stop when the room starts to spin. natasha must notice it, because she turns around and puts her arm around your waist and your arm around her shoulders.

the walk to your room is silent, except for your giggles. you don’t really know what you’re giggling about, but she’s here so it makes sense to do so.

she helps you lay down on your bed and takes off your shoes. as she does so, you look at her. god, you love her so much. and god, you are doomed for life.

“you’re never gonna love me.” you blurt out. she looks at you and frowns.

“what?”

“you’re never gonna love me.” you tell her again, pouting. she waits until she’s tucked you in the bed to answer.

“of course i love you.”

“no.” you frown. “you don’t.”

“what are you talking about?”

“i’m so drunk.” you say out of the blue.

“come on, on your side.” you do as she says and position yourself on your side, so you don’t drown in your own vomit and die.

“you don’t want me to die.” you slur, almost asleep now.

“of course i don’t want you to die!” you open your eyes and look at her. she’s kneeling next to you on the bed and sorting out some pills for tomorrow morning. you’re most likely going to need them. she then puts them on your nightstand next to your water bottle.

“but you don’t love me.” you say again. she looks at you, frowning. you stare at her. her green eyes, so kind. her cheeks, you want to squeeze them between your fingers and call her cute. her eyebrows, so perfect. and her lips, god, her lips. they look so soft. you bet they’re warm to the touch. so kissable.

“you’re so beautiful, natty.”

she looks taken aback by that, but she quickly recovers and smiles softly.

“don’t try to sweet talk me into not being mad at you.”

“i’m not!” you protest. “you can be mad at me but you’re still the prettiest girl in the world.”

“you’re drunk.”

“and you’re beautiful.”

she says your name softly with a smile on her face.

“get some rest, detka.” her hand is softly combing through your hair.

“i love it when you call me detka. did i pronounce that right? probably not.” you mumble. she chuckles.

“you pronounced it right.”

“nat…” you say.

“what?”

“i love you.”

“i love you too.”

“no.” you pout. “don’t lie. it’s not nice.” she stops caressing your hair and frowns.

“what is it with you today? of course i love you.”

“no, nat. i love you love you.”

“i love you love you too.” she tells you.

“i love you like i wanna kiss you love you not you’re my best friend love you.” she blinks at you. for a bit she doesn’t say anything. then she briefly shakes her head and sighs.

“you’re drunk. you should get some rest.” your heart breaks. she doesn’t love you like that. you should’ve known. now you’ve ruined everything. tears begin welling up in your eyes and it isn’t long before you’re crying.

“hey, hey- don’t cry.” she tells you as she wipes your tears with her thumb.

“i told you you didn’t love me.” she says your name again and takes a deep breath.

“you’re not gonna remember this but- if you do, we’ll talk in the morning.”

and then she leaves. tonight you are crying yourself to sleep.

\\\\

you open your eyes and stretch your limbs. then, you sit up and immediately groan. the most violent headache is currently splitting your mind into two. what possessed you to drink so fucking much? oh, natasha romanoff and her stupid beautiful self. and seeing her with another man, that definitely didn’t help.

you tsk and roll your eyes.

what even happened last night after you got hammered? how did you even get up to your room? did sam bring you here? did nat? no, she was too busy with someone else.

a knock on your door pulls you out of your thoughts and you tell the person to come in, and even though it comes out more as a mumble, they seem to understand, because the door opens. there, standing in all her glory, is natasha romanoff herself, accompanied by a small brown bag and a coffee, you notice after a bit.

“hey.” she greets you from the doorway.

“hi.”

“i brought you breakfast. figured you might wanna eat before taking an aspirin.”

“thank you.” you tell her and she nods awkwardly. then, she approaches you and sits down on the bed in front of you while your back is against the headboard. “did sam bring me here last night?”

“nope. i did.”

“oh… thanks natty.” she swallows and gives you a small smile that actually resembles more a wince than anything else. weird.

“so… did i do something embarrassing? please tell me i didn’t try to strip on top of a table or something.” she chuckles and shakes her head.

“you didn’t try to strip.”

“but did i do other embarrassing things?” she opens her mouth to speak but then, surprising you, she pauses and abruptly shakes her head. oh no. what did you do that is making her act so strange? you try to remember. you saw her dancing with that man and decided to get drunk. she says she was the one who brought you to your bedroom so something must’ve happened here. did you puke all over her or something? or even worse, did you admit your feelings? your eyes widen. oh no. oh no, oh no, oh no no no. that’s exactly what you did, you goddamn idiot! you remember now. you told her you loved her! you told her you wanted to kiss her! of course she’s being weird!

“nat-“

“you don’t have to say anything.” she cuts you off.

“i really wish that was the case cause i’m really fucking embarrassed but- i need to say something.”

“we all say dumb shit when we’re drunk.”

“i said the dumbest shit i could’ve ever said.” you deadpan. for a second you see a flash of hurt in her eyes, but it’s gone as soon as it appears. could it be that she- no, no, she didn’t feel that way about you.

“nat-“ she puts her hand up.

“don’t need to say anything, i’ll just forget it happened.”

“but nat-“ she says your name again, almost begging.

“please, just drop it. i get it, you didn’t mean what you said. it’s okay.” you open your mouth to say something but then you close it and frown. did she think you didn’t mean what you said? that’s why she wanted you to stop talking about it? because she wanted you to mean it?

“i-“ you look at her with wide eyes. this is it. you’re gonna tell her in the most beautiful, poetic way that you- “i hate men.” what? the redhead frowns. “i meant, i- ugh- i hate men but i especially hate them when they’re dancing with you.”

“what?” she asks now, seemingly confused.

“i saw you dancing with that guy last night. i got- ugh i’m so dumb- i got jealous. i got jealous cause i’m in love with you and… and i want to be the one who dances with you like that.” natasha does not say a word. you simply continue, because of course once you’ve started you can’t stop. “i’m so in love with you nat, i- you are literally my favorite person in the world. you are so smart and funny and kind and strong and- you can totally slap me and never talk to me again but if this is the last time we’re gonna speak i want you to know that- that i love you with my whole heart and i will always love you.” for the first time since you’ve met her, natasha romanoff is speechless. you don’t know if it’s because she’s desperately in love with you too or she’s simply thinking of different ways to kill you and get rid of your body. you really hope it’s the former. “um- could you- could you say something, please?” she blinks but still, nothing. god, you broke her. “nat- i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have-“ and she’s kissing you. natasha’s lips are on yours and you’re in heaven. or something above heaven because this is simply too perfect, too beautiful. she moves against you, softly, so softly, as if she’s afraid to hurt you. your arms are glued to your body and hers are too. almost as if you were scared to break the spell if you touched each other. the kiss is gentle, sweet, but it sends a shock through your body. you’ve never felt like that. kissing was simply not that interesting to you, but now you understand why people in romantic movies do it so often. natasha’s kiss is healing every broken bone inside your body, it’s like a cure, fixing, mending. but unfortunately, it ends all too soon. when she pulls away you let out a soft whine and she chuckles, almost making fun of you. you lay your forehead on hers and you both breathe in deeply. then, you open your eyes to find that she’s already looking at you.

“so, does this mean you love me too?”

“oh no, that was a platonic kiss.”

“natasha!” you whine and she shuts you up by placing another kiss on your lips.

“of course i love you detka. i’ve loved you for so long.”

“i wasn’t even sure if you liked girls.” you tell her as you lift your hand and caress her face.

“i wasn’t either but then…”

“then…” you raise your eyebrows.

“this beautiful girl showed up in my life and i couldn’t help but fall in love with her.” your heart takes a leap and you have to bite your lip to stop yourself from grinning like a maniac.

“what an amazing girl.” you tell her.

“the best.”

“i love you.” you kiss her again. “i’m so happy i think i’m gonna vomit rainbows.” natasha lets out a laugh.

“don’t vomit on me or i’m kicking your ass.” you pout at her.

“you wouldn’t.” she looks at you, serious for a moment. then, she breaks into a smile.

“i wouldn’t.” you laugh breathily and purse your lips.

“i can’t believe i started this whole confession by saying i hate men.” the redhead laughs.

“i can’t believe you said that either.”

“hey!” her shoulders shake as she laughs. she looks so angelic when she’s happy. you sigh softly, dreamily. you might hate men, but you sure as hell don’t hate natasha romanoff.

[jackiequick]

In fifty years, will all this be declassified? | Agents Of SHIELD Fanfic

Pairing: Amelia M. Parker & Grant Ward (WardParker)

Summary: In other words, suffering is worse than falling down low..

Characters feature/mentioned: Kara Palamas, Melissa Wallace, Marlene Kassdy, The Young Avengers

Timeline: Set a year after Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014), Agents Of Shield Season 2 (2014-2015)

Warning: Mentions of torture, blood, needles, heartbreak and fighting

Fic Type: Angst

——

A/N: Goodness, someone help them all. Also sorry if it's a long fic! I hope you enjoy it ;) And yes I reference a Taylor Swift song as the title hehe

Inspired by: Agents Of Shield 2x21/22

—

Dry pastel lit color faded between the clouds, as the soft yet grime shades filled the room. 

The air thick with dust and the distant sound of wind howling against the cracked windows. A mild, yet faint screeching pierced the silence, mingling with the rhythmic dripping of water somewhere in the shadows.

The autumn chill that sinked though the cracks of the door made its way towards her body, responding her eyes to slowly flutter open. She squinted her eyes turning her around to see the area she was set in.

Confusion wrapped around her like a mask; the last thing she remembered was sifting through the scattered remnants of an old agent’s life in a deserted apartment, searching for files that could’ve been used for other purposes.

It was darkly and dimly lit when she made herself present in that apartment reaching for the last lines of the forgotten report, hearing a soft thud, a shadow looming behind her—then nothing.

Amelia blinked, forcing her mind to piece together the fragments, but all she grasp was the nagging dull pain against her neck. Her fingers twitching waking themselves up only to hit a wooden board. She glanced down to noticed her wrists were against a table, yet her ankles were tied backwards to the chair.

She tugged against the restraints, but they held firm, the rough fibers biting into her skin. Panic clawed at her throat as she took in her surroundings: the rusted beams overhead, the scattered debris underfoot, and the faint light filtering through the grime-coated windows.

With every strained breath, the cold air seeped deeper into her bones, heightening her senses. The screeching outside grew louder, mingling with the pounding of her heart.

Just then, a door creaked open somewhere in the warehouse, and her breath caught in her throat. Amelia huffed and winced catching sight of who it was.

Grant Ward.

Following behind him was Agent 33, Kara Palamas, an a former SHIELD agent. Her was brain given some deep suffering, due to memory loss from Daniel Whitehall and of course she was helped afterward, tested by Fitzsimmons, then she left again. More or less…

Grant smiled sitting across the table from her. One of fingers lightly pushes a strand of hair away from Amelia’s face to see her clearly. Grant will never admit it but he didn’t like having her kidnapped, but he needed SHIELD to reveal any information that had on the Projects and Daniel Whitehall.

Amelia was one of SHIELD most well known and possibly active agents they had. According to the rumor mill she was loved and appreciated, having help put The Young Avengers together, being his co-captain in the very beginning of Coulson’s team back in 2013 and the list went on.

But he knew that Amelia Parker only scratched the surface, of the people she was surrounded by. He knew that none of the recruits and so-called friends truly cared for her, watched her six. If they did care, they would’ve found her by now. Hell, Agent Hill was the one who pushed her senseless into being the agent she was today. 

The poor workaholic agent who was pushed to the brink of it all, making the choices to see the good in others and step in to put herself in danger for the sake of the people around her. 

For the sake of the mission. 

Pushing down all the hurt and blame for her own sake. Taking the hits, making the kills and watching the ones she cared for suffer. 

All Grant wanted to do was keep her safe, have her join him in the mist of SHIELD’s fall back in 2014 and live on the run. But she refused to stay with him.

Because her loyalty was too high and her trust in others were on the balancing act of being destroy right before her eyes.

And yet, here she sat in front of him, her own green eyes staring right into his brown ones.  

“Hi baby.” He said in a calm low tone. 

She held a tight calm smile as she responded, “Hi.

“I’mma cut to the chase. You do know why you’re here, right?”

“Cause you miss me, hon?”

Kara, who was standing a few steps behind Grant, crossed her arms and held back a scoff at her remark. She knew the two had history, which annoyed her completely.

“Miss you? That’s a bold assumption,” Kara shot back, forcing the humor even as her pulse raced slightly.

Grant leaned forward, the smile fading as he studied her. “You’re in a warehouse, tied to a chair. I don’t want to play games, Ames.”

Kara shifted, her posture rigid as she eyed Amelia. “You don’t have to protect her anymore, Grant. She’s not one of us…”

“Not one of us?” Amelia echoed, the bite in her voice sharper than she intended. “You think that just because you’re playing for a different side now, it makes you less of a traitor?”

Kara bristled, but Grant raised a hand, silencing the tension in the room.  “This isn’t about sides,” he said, his tone even but strained. “It’s about information. SHIELD’s been sitting on something big, and I need you to help me find it.”

Amelia’s mind raced at the thought. The thought of betraying her former team sent a chill through her. “And what if I refuse? What makes you think I will help you?”

He leaned closer, intensity radiating from him. “Then you’ll stay here. And trust me, we both know I always find another way to get what I need. But it won’t be pretty for you.”

“Is that a threat, baby?”

“Call it a promise. I said don’t ever want to hurt you, Ames, not again, but if it comes to it, I will.”

Amelia’s eyes fell of Kara and exhaled, “And her?”

Grant noticed her gaze and leaned backwards. His expression turned serious as he said, “Kara, is none of your concern.”

“Liar. What is it that I did that so wrong to her?”

Kara shifted and met her gaze, leaning forward with a slight glare. “You know what you did, you're responsible for my kidnapping, you and Wallace had my location rigid and led me to Whitehall. When I did escape, Marlene and the others were late to get me back to base. I was tortured and enslaved for what felt like ages!”

Amelia’s eyes darted as she shifted, trying to stand up from her chair. She snarled, “The location was rigid to begin with! It wasn’t mine or Melissa’s fault. It was none of our faults!”

“Then apologize!”

“For a miscommunication? I did weeks ago!”

“It wasn’t enough.”

“..why have it be just me? Not strap Melissa or anyone else to a chair?”

That’s when Kara allowed a small smirk to appear on her face.

“Because. Melissa will just give me a snarky remark and scream, she’s not trained for the physical and mental discomfort across the body. But you are.” Kara explained to Amelia.

Amelia’s eyes darted back to Ward with a warning tone. “Grant.” She muttered. 

Grant stood from his seat and grabbed a device from the wall as he contained the explanation to a minimum, “We’re using you as an advantage here, Ames. If we want SHIELD to give us what they want as well and see a piece of them crumble, why not have one of their finest agents be the representation of it all?”

“Which means?” Amelia asked.

“We will keep you here.” Kara said, “In result, disorient the other agents such as Melissa, Marlene and your precious boyfriend, who I bet has no idea that your gone, into running around in rampage looking for you. The more pain you inflect, will give the others no choice but to give us the information needed.”

Amelia’s heart raced with a mix of fear and defiance as the words hung in the air. 

She scoffed as a small smile broke across her face. A shake chuckle escaped her hips for whatever reason. “You’re both just petty and delusional.” Amelia remarked. “Even if it I am not found by them, and I’m tortured. You realize that The Young Avengers will get concerned and try to find me, right?”

Grant crossed his arms and shook her head, as he strapped a wires and tightened the chair a bit more. Beforehand, he used anesthetic to remove any sensation of pain from Morse-Parker, however the sensation of the shockwaves and needles will be an unbearable pain, hitting her body all at once. 

Kara claimed to many beforehand, that was the pain she felt when she was harmed by Whitehall and when she regained control of her mind once again. 

When no one answered her remarked about The Young Avengers—Liane, Rick, Rochelle, Cole and the others—would grow panicked and try to find her, it was a clear as day response. They were too busy and selfish to care for others’s turmoil to save them. Kara and Grant convey that answer by just exchanging a glance at Amelia.

 Amelia's heart raced, a mixture of defiance and dread coursing through her veins. “You really think that will work? You’re underestimating them.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm, masking the worry gnawing at her.

Grant tightened the straps, his brow furrowed with frustration. “It’s not about underestimating them. It’s about making them desperate.”

Kara’s smirk faded as she stepped closer. “You think they care enough to risk everything for you? They’ve got their own battles to fight. You’re just a pawn in this game, Amelia.”

The weight of her words hit harder than any blow. Memories of laughter and camaraderie flashed through Amelia’s mind, but the shadows of doubt loomed larger. She shook her head, unwilling to let them see her falter. “You’re wrong. They won’t stop searching for me.”

Grant leaned back, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. “And if they do find you, what then? You think they’ll storm in here and rescue you? They don’t even know where you are.”

Kara stepped closer, her voice low and chilling. “They’ll waste time chasing ghosts, and by the time they figure it out, it’ll be too late.”

-----

A silence fell, heavy with unspoken truths. Amelia felt the chill in the air deepen, a reminder of her vulnerability as the hours went by. She felt herself growing hungry and weak by the second, as her eyes tried their hardest to not give into the weight and close themselves.

Deep into the night, the weight of Grant and Kara’s words hit pierced harder than any words. Every moment spent in the room, tied to the chair, her wrists trying to wiggle out of the restrains and the needles digging into her fingers send an engulfing pain across her body. The wires sending shockwaves through her body, were just as bad, she could practically taste the metal in the air, under her skin. 

Amelia was on the brink of giving into the pain and torment, that she was lost caused. She wasn’t going to be saved. That Kara and Grant were right. She was fool to think SHIELD and The Young Avengers—her friends—would care to save her. To release any evidence in hopes of having her come back to them.

That loyalty and trust that tied her to her team was slipping between her fingers.

She could’ve sworn she heard typing of a laptop and invoices being messaged between the two in another room, whenever Kara or Grant weren’t inside with her. She could hear Grant’s low murmur, the occasional sharp retort from Kara. The sound of certain agents from the messages, such as Marlene, her voice was faintly heard, so was Melissa. A flicker of Jeremy’s tone of voice and a few others that she didn’t quite recognize.

She wondered if Jeremy was negotiating a deal to the data on Whitehall or some kind of information in general. She wondered if Melissa trying to relocate the trace of the phone's pattern to her location, or maybe Marlene had just threaten to murder Ward.

Gods know what the others on the line must've been discussing.

However nothing from The Young Avengers.

As for their mouths moving? Conversation between the three echo though the warehouse, a mixture of screams, snarky remarks, and words that were sharper than a knife. Grant was one of the few people, who knew her better than anyone, he had a hand in training her and sense her downfall from a mile away. 

He knew that she knows that there was no one coming from her. And if they did. They would be too late, suffering the lost of someone who they assumed, they care for deeply. It was a twisted symphony of betrayal and desperation that echoed around her, each note driving the point home: she was alone.

Speaking of echos being said, at one point, when Amelia refused to once again to apologize to Kara, the closure to heal according to Grant, the brunette slapped Amelia across the face before she walked around the chair with a wicked smirk.

“If you want a nice view of my ass, sweetheart, that will be...” Amelia said in a slight witty tone, however her voice trailed off, hearing the sound of fabric and a wince of a blade, “..what is she doing?”

Grant didn’t let her swift her neck around to see the damage about to inflect upon her, instead snatching her chin under his fingers, forcing her to face him. For a fleeting moment, his gaze softened, a hint of regret flickering in his brown eyes.

“You don’t have to do this, Ames. We can work this out—” He said in a soft tone. 

“No.“ Amelia cut him off, her tone resolute, almost shaking in a hush tone, “Not like this..”

Before she can even repeat her words, a sharp passing of a knife slide across the back of her knees, her inner knees, as she let out a deep whine. She squeezed her eyes and gasped breathing heavily, her chest rising and fall, due to the action taking place. Her eyes water as she gulped, catching Grant’s gaze as she tried to wipe her face towards Kara.

Amelia’s breath came in ragged gasps, the pain radiating through her legs, refusing to show weakness, however it was clear. Grant’s grip on her chin tightened, his gaze searching hers for a flicker of compliance.

Kara stepped closer, a glint of amusement in her eyes. “You really think you’re in control here? You’re tied up, and your friends are miles away. This is your reality now.”

Amelia felt the weight of her words sink in, but she wouldn’t give in just yet. “And if I break? If I give they what you want? What happens then?”

She shrugged, a cruel smile curling her lips. “Maybe we’ll let you go. Maybe I won’t. It all depends on how entertaining you are.”

Before Amelia could respond, Grant’s expression shifted, a flicker of anger crossing his face. “Enough, Kara. This isn’t a game.”

Kara rolled her eyes, dismissing his concern. “Oh please, Grant. You’re not her keeper. She made her choices.”

Amelia’s eyes flickered between the pair. Despite Grant’s protectiveness over her, he was true as day that he cared for Kara just the same. He may claim to still love her, but his heart had made space for Kara. She scoffed, honestly, with how delusional they both were, they desires each other. 

“Choices?” Amelia scoffed, her voice steady despite the pain. “Um, I didn’t choose to be here, and you know it.”

Grant’s jaw tightened, a mix of frustration and a hint of guilt flashing across his face. “I didn’t want this for you, Amelia. I wanted to protect you.”

“By letting Kara and yourself torture me?” she shot back, her gaze unwavering. “You’re not protecting me, Grant. You lied to me once, you’ll do it again.”

He always said that one thing, she will understand everything he ever done, but she won’t. One look from Kara and Grant, and she realized she was more than a pawn, in this sick game. She’s the queen. The moment she decide to cooperate or her teammates come and find her, give them any information about Whitehall, the game changes. 

If she might even survive this.

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

The hours went by, no help, no hope of salvation—none. 

It was hopeless.

She whimpered and winced, gasping for air as her fingers were being pierced by needles and her body was attached to the wires from earlier. She has been yelled at, bleeding and bruised.

She was purely shaking at this point. At least she was able to convince Ward to release her ankles for some breathing room. However, she was cold. From her feet to her toes, despite the clothing she was wearing, she was feeling the air bouncing against her skin.

As she wiggled her wrists against the restraints, searching for any weakness, the faint sound of footsteps approached. She held her breath, heart pounding, readying herself for whatever was to come.

The door creaked open, and Grant stepped inside. He paused, meeting her gaze with a mixture of concern and resolve. 

“You okay?” he asked, a hint of sincerity breaking through his hardened facade.

Her voice was slightly shaky under her breath, “Is that even a question?”

“Ames.”

“Not even close, and you know it.” 

“It’s gonna be a long night, I knew you’ll be tough. Coulson’s got an eye for talent.”

“So did you..”

He sighed, his harden facade slowly returned, as a tone that was undoubtedly unreadable appeared. He sat down across from her. Her breathing was deep and hitched, her glares softened ever so slightly, before slowly hardening once again.

“You and I are a lot alike, Ames.” He began, his voice simple yet smooth. “Emotions buried deep inside where nowhere will ever find it.”

She shook her head lightly, “Why’s that? Because you know me very well?” “Because the reason why you kill and fight and recruit others..it’s not because you feel it’s a duty.”

“It is..you caught onto that lesson very early on. Being pushed to the prime level, because it hides whatever uncertainty you have..”

“That’s what you think? Are you referring to me or yourself?”

Amelia paused remembering a conversation she had with Skye involving the context of Ward. He kills because of his emotional attachment and his desire to help, not just for his own desire but for a gain. 

But there was something more to that.

After a moment Amelia said under her breath as she admitted, “..it’s not because of nothing, or that it’s a duty to serve..it’s because you feel too much..i feel too much..”

Grant watched her eyes gearing up, the shift in her eyes, at the realization. The pain, the despair, the suffering, the repeated questions and conversation. It was like memories flashed—every laugh, every time she was snapped at, every snarl or glare, every moment of believing in trust and faith—it all came crashing down upon her.

The right push and she can be forced to see the truth, even if she denied it. Hell, the words that Amelia said hit Grant as hard a brick. It wasn’t false, he did care, sometimes way too much. But like he said, he buried it deep, to save himself the heartbreak and torment.

However he did say if Amelia didn’t corporate, or if SHIELD didn’t release information on Whitehall, he will do a certain job. One that she has seen done before..

“Baby, listen to me.” Grant said, bringing her back to the moment holding up needle in-between his fingers. “Kara needs closure. Your teammates are already suffering with no idea where you are, thanks to Kara. But you, just admit you betrayed her and we can end this.”

She scoffed, “You’re such a hypocrite, you know that? Betray her? Honey, may I remind you that you betrayed your whole entire team! You betrayed me.”

“For the—! For the hundredth time, I was loyal to Garrett, not HYDRA!”

“For the hundredth time, I don’t care!”

“Amelia!”

“What?! You always have that excuse or decide to blame Garrett for your choices!”

“We both know, if it was the other way another and you were in my shoes, you would understand! We talked about this!”

“I know! And for the that, I say, screw you!”

That’s when Grant leaned forward against the table, his body dangling among the chair he sat in. Their face were mere inches apart, they can feel the other’s hot breath against one another’s face. Every scare, bump and bruise, laced across their face.

The tension was heating off their bodies, their breathing was thick and hitched. 

“You don’t know me as well, as you think you do.” He growled under his breath, his back arched and his palms pressed against the table.

“Sure I do, baby.” She responded, growling in the same exact intensity.

However she held a light smirk, ripping off her restraints that she spent the last hours  loosing up, grunted as she both hands grabbed the back of his neck and slammed his face into the table.

She held out a breath, snatching the needle from his grasp and stabbing him with it. Grant broke free from her grasp just as quickly, as Amelia stumbled backwards. He launched at her as she jumped over the table and kicked him the chest. 

Before they two knew it, they were dancing around, blocking and trying to punch one another into corners. Spinning, turning and trying to slam the other into a wall. Grunts, pounding from footsteps against the ground, shouts and screaming were heard from within the warehouse, as they broke though the walls and into the hallways.

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

At one point, Amelia raised her height was going to cause her a real disadvantage, Grant was taller than her by a lot. So just as he was about to launch at her once again, she reached up to a poll, grasping a tight grip before swinging her legs forwards launching Grant to break though the window of the door. 

“I taught you well..” He muttered, a hint of pride in his voice, before grabbing her and swinging the brunette around as they head butted one another hitting against the tight narrow hallway.

Amelia head was slammed backwards, pounding firm near a wall, before her body slid downwards onto the floor as she grunted and let out a groaned. Grant towered over her just as Kara hurried in, holding her gun towards Amelia.

She was ready to shoot her, but didn’t, yet. She wanted to hear the apology, understand her pain. She exchanged a look with Ward.

“Anything you want to say to Kara?” Grant asked, letting out a deep breath.

Amelia’s eyes darted between the door of them, her vision was blurry as she said, “..yeah.”

“She’s waiting.”

“I’m not sorry anymore..” Amelia muttered under her breath. 

Kara exhaled, lowering the gun, “This isn’t right..I’m not feeling, she’s not sorry..”

Grant took the gun from her stuffing it into his back pocket and placed a hand on her shoulder, “It’s alright, baby, I know what to do..”

Her gaze flickered between the pair, one look from Grant and Amelia knew what was coming for her, he going to pull the trigger. The hours were running up. 

He’ll do the one thing she seen him do, only once, years ago. 

It will not just make her suffer but the ones who claimed to love her...

~~~~~~

~~~~~~~

AHH! It was a lot I know but let me know what you think! Thoughts, comments and what you love about it all. Pls like, comment and share for more.

Tags: @gaminggirlsstuff @gcthvile @missstrawbs2001 @djs8891 @starkleila @aidanxsophxoxo @mandylove1000 @yetanotherwells @rickb-chaos @topgun-imagines s @hardballoonlove @buckysteveloki-me @sherloquestea @ximehs @savemewattpad @theonlyblackcanary y @terry-perry @triptuckers @daughter-of-melpomene @superspookyjanelle @infinetlyforgotten and etc

[bakerstreethound]

Anything But Okay

Relationship: Loki x gender neutral reader

Summary: Loki comes to your aid while you're distressed.

Warnings: emotional distress, angst, mentions of blood, turmoil and a chaotic past

a/n: wrote this mid feels and very late so please excuse any minor spelling errors & the like. As always don't claim, copy, repost or translate to any sites. Heavily inspired by the song Are You Really Okay? By Sleep Token

******

He heard the gut wrenching sobs behind the door before he opened it, the sight of you before him like a knife to his gut. Teary eyes, your hands tugging at your hair, covers tangled around you in a catastrophic cocoon.

You fought off another sob, sounding more like a wounded animal than a human being. You are tired, so tired if it all the expectations, the anxiousness brimming over, not being able to tell others how you feel. How could you when so many left and you don't know how to love in return? Let alone care for you know most only take advantage.

"Darling," Loki's brows furrow as he swallows, rushing over to your side, hesitantly wrapping you up in his arms, and thankfully, you obliged falling into him and his familiarity. He smells so good you can't help smiling a little, the ache in your body and mind subsiding for the moment. You were with Loki. He hasn't abandoned you.

"L-loki, shit I'm so sorry I'm fine it's nothing," you shudder, baffled he's still holding you, your tears staining the bedsheets crimson.

You hate when this happens, drowning in your own demise, leaving more scars upon your soul, on your bed. Of all that had to happen, you had to be born a freak, bloodshed your companion, offerings of red sacrificed in your name, yet you wanted none of it.

"Love, you're not fine. Can you tell me what's wrong?" His eyes usually stone cold around the Avengers are soft warm and understanding and you trust him, he's the only one you ever can trust.

You sigh, pushing the blanket off of you settling back into him as he adjusted himself on your bed despite the stains. "Heavy head and heart, the ghosts of the past keep coming reminding me I'm going to forever be alone and reminding me of all I lost. They tell me I can't know what love is, like walking a living hellish nightmare over and over living the same mistakes. I don't know who I am anymore, Loki, or what I'm supposed to be. I've lost twice before, Loki in the past I fear I may be time to give up. Am I so inhuman, so monstrous, so unwanting yet wanting love and care be wrong? What's to become of me, to us?"

Loki says nothing and another sob breaks free your shoulders shaking. Years of tormenting yourself not crying haven't helped matters and you always thought tears weak, especially yours now staining your arms red.

Why couldn't you for once be normal, not a freak an anomaly always passed over and forgotten? That is a fine line isn't it? Wanting certain love and care but not believing yourself worthy and bokting when you realize you can't reciprocate jn the manner they want.

But Loki....he is always there for you, you grew to love him and he for you, but times like these when you're thrown back to your past shackled to the torment your demons feed upon, he's there soothing you with another story.

He begins calm cool collected, lressing a kiss to your temple, arms wrapping around yoir waist and you can feel the steady beating of his heart, tethering you to the present, away from your treacherous worthless past where everything was grey and red until he arrived.

"Let me take us back to those autumn days we laid on the orchard, watching the stars and making fun of Thor and betting how fast he could fly across the sky. The picnics Freya would make watching after us long after we came back to the palace late, a knowing look in her eyes as she gave us wine before wishing us well. She adores you, loves you like her own."

"She always gave us wonderful picnics."

"You know she did prep them all her own, never let anyone else help her besides me, when she requested special wine."

A gentle quiet falls between you before you speak. "I miss her. She was always so gracious and you cared about her a lot."

He smiles softly turning you to face him, his skin cool against yours. "I loved her truly, she was a good mother to me, always encouraged me to find the right companion; one who made my mischievous heart take flight."

"Well you got a marvelous screw up."

His lips purse into a thin line. "Not a chance." He presses his lips against yours and you lose yourself to him, your achy heart resting against his thumping strong in his chest. "You don't have to be okay all of the time, love. It's okay to ask for help." He praises giving you a chance to breath before asking."Now, how is my favorite person?"

"Much better than okay now." Your cup his fave, eyes full of tears yet again pressing your lips against his, embracing the fall knowing he'll catch you no matter what despite your faults, your fears, and your past.

[thatonehypnokid]

'Cassandra' by Taylor Swift is actually from the point of view Clytemnestra, in this essay I will-

Maybe not an essay but some in-depth lyrical analysis instead:

'I was in my new house placing daydreams' It's her house while Agamemnon is at war, and she tries to make it into the perfect house of her dream - she is in charge now

Patching up the crack along the wall She's trying to keep her family - Electra and Orestes - together, even though it's become irreparably broken with the death of Iphigenia and with Agamemnon going to war

I pass it and lose track of what I'm saying 'Cause that's where I was when I got the call Clytemnestra has a system of fires set up specifically to tell her when the Trojan War is ended and her husband's coming home - this 'call' is the beginning of the end for her

When the first stone's thrown, there's screaming In the streets, there's a raging riot When it's "Burn the bitch, " they're shrieking I mean, 'bitch' for Clytemnestra? Need I say more? The woman who has been portrayed time and time again as a cruel, inhumane woman who kills her war-hero of a husband? Everyone in her story hates her and everyone who hears her story hates her

When the truth comes out, it's quiet A few interpretations here - firstly, everyone being quiet about the death of Iphigenia - they don't mention what Agamemnon did to start the war, instead letting it be forgotten to time, and being quiet if Clytemnestra ever does bring it up. Then, quiet in the way that the Chorus simply commentates as she kills her husband, only to do and say nothing to her face about it

So, they killed Cassandra first 'cause she feared the worst And tried to tell the town This line fits less well in that it is 'they' who killed Cassandra, but some sources state that is Aegisthus who murders her, whilst it could also be seen as a more general commentary on how Cassandra's phrophesysing led to her destruction, mentally and physically

So, they filled my cell with snakes, I regret to say Do you believe me now? LITERALLY - need I say more??? Her husband betrayed her by killing their child and if that doesn't make him a snake I don't know what does - and then her very own children turned against her.

I was in my tower weaving nightmares Twisting all my smiles into snarls They say, "What doesn't kill you makes you aware What happens if it becomes who you are?" Clytemnestra goes from being a princess of Sparta, sister to beautiful Helen, to wife of a man who has no qualms over killing their child - she becomes mean because she has to be to avenge her daughter's murder

They knew, they knew, they knew the whole time That I was onto something The family, the pure greed, the Christian chorus line They all said nothing No one stood by her as her daughter was murdered - Clytemnestra was literally the one to lead her daughter to the camp, thinking it was for a wedding, only to discover Iphigenia was a lamb meant for slaughter. The Greek chorus doesn't act to save Cassandra or Clytemnestra - they just watch and commentate, without taking any actions or supporting anyone through deeds instead of words.

Blood's thick but nothing like a payroll Because family meant less to Agamemnon than fighting a war over a woman, and the wealth and glory he could steal from that battle.

Bet they never spared a prayer for my soul Because although her daughter was sacrificed to the gods, what good did it do her? Clytemnestra, who was, instead, doomed by the fights, to be murdered by her own son.

TO SURMISE - I don't think T. Swift actually intended for this song to be read this way but I love Clytemnestra so much so I couldn't help but hear her story in between the lines.

[from-the-clouds]

Kiss Me More (Part II) - Zemo/Reader

Masterlist || Part One

Summary: Part two, read part one if you haven’t already! Sam & Bucky put reader in charge of looking after Zemo....again. Series loosely inspired by this song.

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: Kissing, heavy petting, mentions of sex, minor TFATWS spoilers.

A/N: Wow! I was so shocked on the feedback I got on the first part of this story. It has nearly 800 notes. I’m not used to my writing getting that kind of attention so I really appreciate the love. I decided to make this into at least a 3-4 part series and there will be eventual smut, but I feel like there’s something sweet between these two that goes beyond an obvious physical attraction, so I do want to build that a bit before we get there. This weekend I rewatched TFATWS & Civil War because I’m officially obsessed with Zemo lol. Please let me know what you think, and let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist. :) 

-----

“Keep an eye on him.”

Y/N watched Bucky and Sam split off again. That was now at least the third time she’d heard that phrase since she arrived in Riga. Little did they know, she was probably the worst person to be put in charge of Zemo. Truthfully, it was starting to be a little insulting.

It was unclear why she’d been brought along on this mission, when half the time Sam and Bucky were talking in hushed tones just out of her earshot. There was always more to the story than they told her, but this time, it felt like she was more out of the loop than ever.

She adjusted the neckline of the sweater she wore out of an abundance of caution, checking subconsciously to make sure it hadn’t exposed the mark Zemo had left on her from the day before. It was a discovery she’d made that morning, and persisted despite her efforts to cover it up with makeup.

“According to those two, I must be the best at babysitting you,” she muttered under her breath. It was petty, so she wasn’t even sure if she wanted him to hear. But he did.

“Babysitting?” Zemo lifted an eyebrow. 

“You know, a nanny, a governess….whatever a Baron’s equivalent is,” she said, looking him in the eye for the first time that day, which was a mistake. He looked so handsome in that long, fur-lined coat, tall and refined, hair styled perfectly. There had to be warrants out for his arrest since escaping prison, and in his current getup, he was hard to miss. 

It wasn’t easy to ignore the stifling tension between them. The Baron hadn’t left her thoughts since she’d closed the door on him the evening before. Now they were alone again. She couldn’t decide if that was thrilling or terrifying, so she decided on both.

“It’s nice of them to give us some alone time,” Zemo stepped close to her, one gloved hand pressing between her shoulder blades. Despite the cool temperature outside, it was the first thing today that had her shivering. 

“Walk with me,” he commanded sternly. She saw no opportunity to refuse as they started in the direction opposite of where Bucky and Sam had disappeared. 

“Zemo-”

“Helmut,” he corrected her. “But go on…”

“We have to focus on figuring out where Donya’s funeral will be,” she said, feeling his hand slide down to settle on the small of her back, trying to inch away, but he just pulled her closer. “We can’t waste time.”

“I know Riga inside and out, that won’t be as difficult as you and your friends think,” he murmured. His proximity was already suffocating. Or maybe comforting. It was hard to tell. “Tell me, what is your business with them? You aren’t an Avenger. This was my first time hearing your name.”

She snorted, finally finding the strength to pull away, and he dropped his hand. That was one thing that had confounded her. He was confident, took liberties with what others would allow, but knew when to stop pushing. There was something alluring to his nature. 

“I’m not,” she responded, wondering how much she was willing to share. When she stole a glance out of the corner of her eyes, his head was lowered, leaning in, listening intently for her response. She wondered if he really cared, or if he was good at pretending. It was easy to believe that he did.

“Bucky and I aren’t that different,” she continued. “That’s why we’re friends. I’m not a super soldier, but I was taught how to fight, how to kill. I followed orders for too long without questioning whether or not I was doing the right thing. And at least now, I think I am.”

“You think,” he repeated, and corrected her again like he had the day before. As much as she wanted some kind of clever or quick quip back, she wore her heart on her sleeve for the moment and shrugged. There was nothing to defend when she still wasn’t sure what responsibilities she had in this world. 

Zemo halted, and she paused too, turning back to look at him. “So you were an assassin,” he murmured, reaching out. Nodding slightly, she lowered her eyes when his gloved thumb brushed across her face. The buttery, overpowering smell of leather took her over as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I would’ve never guessed. Du bist so süß.”

Her knowledge of German was limited, but she could see a flash of what looked like affection in his eyes. He couldn’t be lying, could he? She wondered. She wanted to trust that he wasn’t, wanted to identify every good part of him she could, so she could justify the overwhelming attraction she felt towards him. Something in her just kept pulling forward against her will, like a magnet.

“You’d be surprised,” she answered, but didn’t pull away. The intensity of his gaze made her feel weak, but there was something strangely reassuring in his eyes. It was just the two of them, standing on a crowded sidewalk.

She rose her hand to clasp around his, frowning when she felt the hard loop of a ring on one of his gloved fingers. It had gone unnoticed by her, until now. He still wore a wedding band. 

It would have been easy to vocalize the observation, gauge his reaction, try to regain some upper hand and remind him who exactly he was dealing with. But, it would’ve been pointlessly cruel, as she knew what that felt like to answer that question. Those days were behind her, now. 

As if the universe was scolding her, a loud car horn broke through the perceived silence. His hand dropped from her face, and they began to walk again. 

“I had lots of time to think in prison,” he said after a heady pause in conversation. “About the things I’d done. Whatever intentions you have, to someone, you’re always the enemy. What I thought was important, trying to serve the greater good, it isn’t always worth the trouble. I was trying to protect what I had already lost, the places and people I’d taken for granted.”

Deciphering his words, she took a moment before responding. “That’s actually...very insightful,” she said, partly surprised by what he’d shared, appreciating that he felt her vulnerability, and matched it in his response.

“I know you’re stunned I’m not a brute,” he answered, increasing his pace to a determined strut rather than a lazy stroll. She was forced to keep up with him. “You’ve been told what to think about me by Sam and Bucky.”

She scoffed. “Not just them. The entire world. All the people you’ve hur-”

He halted and turned to face her so quickly, she collided with his chest and her breath caught in her throat. 

“I’m not that man anymore,” his voice was nearly a growl, disgust laced in his features as he looked down at her. 

But as soon as she recognized it, he became expressionless again, backing away. Falling back into step beside him, they continued to walk, a bit faster than they had been before. She followed him, at this point convinced that she might get lost without his guidance, but a little startled by his sudden change in behavior.

“What do you think of Riga?” he asked her as they cut through an alleyway. His voice held none of the venom that it had a few moments ago, so she wondered if she’d just hit a sore nerve.

“It’s beautiful,” she answered, admiring the old brick buildings and fine architecture. “But I think I haven’t had much of a chance to appreciate it.”

“Have you been thinking about me?”

They ducked under an alcove, and she realized he’d carefully led her off the crowded streets. It was much quieter here. She suddenly didn’t feel as protected as she had been with him in the open. The temperature in the shaded space was much lower than expected. And he was standing over her, waiting for some response she didn’t know if she could give. 

“I haven’t forgotten about last night, liebling,” he continued. 

Of course she had been thinking of him. Nearly nonstop. What they’d shared, what it meant. She hadn’t been able to sleep until she relieved herself, fingers rubbing her clit and delving into her warmth, whimpering his name when she finally came. Still, it had done little to quell the ache inside her. 

It was a horrible thing, she’d decided. Objectively horrible, and unprofessional. There was the consideration of accessibility. What did he see in her beyond a means to an end? Was she really going to throw everything she’d worked for away to a man who was going to use her to scratch an itch?

Too much was at stake, Sam and Bucky’s trust, her reputation, her job, and she couldn’t allow it to go on. 

But oh, how much she wanted it to. 

“Yesterday was nice,” she straightened up, holding her own. “I won’t lie to you.”

The corner of his mouth tugged up slightly in a self-satisfied smirk. 

“But I’m not foolish,” she continued. “Coming on to the first woman you see after you get out of jail? Seems pretty convenient.”

At first, the Baron tilted his head to the side, his brows pulled together at her words. But after a moment, the smile returned, and he chuckled. “Is that what you think this is about?”

“Don’t insult me, Helmut,” she said sternly, trying her best not to feel embarrassed. She was only being honest.

“Are you always so severe to yourself?” he asked, tutting lightly. 

It would have been better to say nothing. Why give him anything at all? 

She didn’t answer his question, just backed away from him and began walking in no particular direction, wanting only to increase the space between them and regain her common sense. That was impossible however, as she was jolted backwards before she even knew what was happening, a firm hand on her upper arm, and she was chest to chest with Zemo once more. 

“We were in Madripoor together. I could’ve had my way with many women there if I wanted. But I didn’t.”

“Please-” she rolled her eyes.

“If all I wanted to do was fuck someone, I could have done it by now,” he stalked forward, the air pressure around them dropping, weighed by the tension hanging thick between them. “But that’s not what I want. I want you.”

His words, spoken in a soft, low purr rattled away every bit of resolve she had left in her. Some last ditch effort found her stepping backwards, but her body met the brick wall behind them and she realized he had her cornered. 

In more ways than one, she thought.

Taking in a shaky breath, she looked up at his eyes, clouded with lust. “I know you want me,” he said, not a shred of doubt in his voice. But why should there have been? He was right. 

Her eyes darted around, like someone or something around them was going to jump out and save her from herself. It didn’t go unnoticed. “There’s no need to be scared, liebling. I feel it, too.”

With that, he closed the gap between their lips. He tasted sweet, like the candies he’d been eating back at his flat. Turkish delight. She was drowning in him again, his scent, his touch, everything about him enveloped and beguiled her. Her shirt had bunched up slightly somewhere along their walk and his gloved hands explored the exposed skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. 

She surrendered, letting him tease open her mouth and claim her wholly. It was still bad, she knew. But there wasn’t any last bit of self-control left in her. 

The layers of clothing between them didn’t allow for the same proximity she’d had to him the evening before. Groaning in delight and frustration, she reached up to tangle and rake her fingers through his hair, as his fingers curled around the top of her sweater, revealing the sensitive skin of her neck. 

“Don’t hide this,” his lips left hers as his eyes focused on the stamp of affection he’d left behind the day before. “Let them see.”

“You know I can’t,” she responded, sheepishly pulling it back into place. Studying her with amiable consideration, his hand rose to brush tenderly across her cheekbone. 

“I thought you’d come to me last night,” she confessed, drawing away slightly, shocked by her own admission. But right now, she didn’t feel the need to put up as much of a facade. He looked positively virile; panting, his cheeks flushed and hair mussed, pupils blown out as he focused on her. To know she was the cause of his current state of disarray gave her an immense amount of satisfaction. A buried, salacious part of her wondered what else she could do to make him look even more unkempt.

“I considered it,” he said, sounding almost timid. “But I want to do this right.” He leaned in, pressed a kiss beneath her ear. “In private, so no one can disturb us,” he continued, lips moving down her neck. “We can take our time, you can be as loud as you’d like.”

The mental image he was currently painting for her was doing very little to strengthen her convictions, whatever those had been. The thought of her legs wrapped around his torso, naked bodies pressed together sent a bolt of electricity through the pit of her stomach, radiating outwards. She wanted his lips on every inch of her skin. Aching at the possibility, the present tease of his teeth nibbling on her collarbone wasn’t helping.

“You know we can’t,” she didn’t try to stop the thought as it came out of her mouth.

“What is there to lose?”

Everything, she thought, but didn’t answer. She couldn’t really, as his gloved hand was trailing slowly under her jacket and sweater, against her bare skin, and cupping her breast through her bra. Whimpering, she couldn’t control the way her body arched against his.

Hooking her knee on his hip, she let him press forward, feeling the warmth of his excitement through his trousers and her jeans. He ground against her once, teasingly, and she moaned softly into his mouth. 

He was the one to pull away, and she was thankful he did. “Think about it, liebling,” he said softly, pressing a tender kiss to her temple. “Du hast die Kontrolle.”

“We can’t,” she answered again, but even she didn’t believe herself. Raking her hands through her hair and adjusting her rumpled sweater, she straightened up. “We have a job to do.”

Brushing past him out of the alcove, each step she took away from him gave her the self control she desperately needed. She glanced over her shoulder to see him reluctantly trudging behind. At this point, she wasn’t foolish. There were only two ways this could end.

----

Part III

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[spookiekewchie]

look what you did

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Characters: ex!Steve Rogers x woc!reader, sugar daddy!Loki x woc!reader

Summary: Steve's choices have consequences that he's too late to realize.

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: angst with a satisfying ending, mentions of Steve x Peggy, general language warning, non detailed smut, name calling, mild violence, calling Peggy out for her faults, calling Steve out for being an idiot, Steve is selfish and kinda a jerk in this, me ignoring canon because I can, I think that's it

A/N:  I'm an idiot that listened to a song (Girl Like Me by Jazmine Sullivan) and ended up writing something that I swore I'd never write and that's endgame Steve leaving the reader for Peggy. But it's okay because he suffers in the end. Also for the sake of this Loki didn't die in IW. Also shout out to @syren-tara & @lafayette103 for helping me decide on Loki for this. Anyways, all mistakes are mine so pardon any errors or typos I'm sure I missed a few. The divider is by @firefly-graphics

for translation purposes: elskan = darling

DO NOT repost or translate my work anywhere. Reblogs are always welcome, and let me know that you enjoy my fics.

In all your training and avenging nothing ever prepared you for this. You had fought killer robots, aliens, the government, and yet Steve had you stood there, dumbfounded and sure that you hadn’t heard him correctly.

“Ha, ha. Jokes over, and I’m no longer amused.” You replied, Steve just stood there silently, eyes downcast like he couldn’t even look at you. Like he felt guilty.

You could feel the cracks in your heart as the fissures began to spread, the only thing holding it together was a glimmer of hope that what Steve had just told you wasn’t really what he was planning. You looked over to Bucky, and the sad resentment in his eyes said it all. Steve was leaving the both of you behind to go chase some skirt he had a crush on back in the forties.

And just like that the hope died, and your heart cracked. You didn’t even realize the hot tears streaming down your face until a shocked gasp choked its way out of you and finally drew Steve’s eyes up to your face. “No, honey please. I-I don’t want you to hurt. I just...this place isn’t for me, and nothing’s felt right since I came out of the ice. I love you, I do, and I want you to know that this has nothing to do with you I just…” He didn't finish his statement, so caught up in his reasons for running away that he hadn’t realized just what he was saying to you. Bucky had though, and a strong hand had clamped down on Steve’s shoulder to silence him as Bucky looked warily to you.

“Nothing’s felt right?” You repeated, how fast had you cycled through your emotions just to land on anger? You weren’t sure but hearing Steve’s selfish excuses suddenly made you grasp onto anger and hold so tight to it that it was all you could feel. “But you had no problem fucking me, and telling me how much you loved me. Or telling me how good I was for you. I was your good girl wasn’t I Steve? That’s what you always called me. Guess I wasn’t good enough, certainly not better than some bitch from the forties that hired Hydra scientists, and let a Nazi regime infiltrate SHIELD, that didn’t see anything wrong letting a black man be tortured and forgotten to history.” Yeah you’d never been a fan of Peggy’s once you’d found out about that from Steve, and the fact that he was willing to just blindly look over her glaring faults and run back to her was too much. “You realize that intentionally or not she played a part in Bucky being used as Hydra’s attack dog for decades right?” Briefly you looked to Bucky who just looked even more hurt to hear it said out loud. But you could see the way Steve’s jaw set when you dragged your gaze back to him, it was the sign that he was frustrated but willing to see something through regardless.

That was when you understood. Nothing you could ever do for him or to him would be enough to make him stay. He was willing to give you up for a woman he’d only ever shared a kiss with.

“I get that you’re upset, but you aren’t being fair to h-”

“Get out.” You didn’t let him finish, didn’t let him try to defend her in your presence while it was your heart that was shattering into pieces because of him. “Get the fuck out, Steve. Don’t worry about the apartment. I’ll sort it out, and as for all your shit, I’ll just throw it out in the trash where it belongs.”

His mouth fell open as if he wanted to say something else, but Bucky just pulled him away. Muttering to the blonde that he’d made his choice and now it was time for him to live with it.

You didn’t go with Bucky to say goodbye, you had nothing to say to Steve. He’d chosen another woman over you, and it was all you could do not to fall in the self deprecating thoughts of what you could have done better to make him stay. You eventually did though, a week later you’d caught yourself standing in front of a full length mirror as you judged your body and tried to find the flaws that might have made Steve not want you any longer. When you realized it you cursed yourself, because fuck him. Fuck Steve for doing this to you, and making you doubt yourself like that. And fuck that good girl shit, it clearly didn’t get you anywhere with him.

You were angry again, and you knew you’d end up wallowing in it if you didn’t get out and do something to take your mind off of it. So you called Sam, and threw yourself into missions with him. And when you weren’t doing that you were with Bucky drinking as the two of you pretended you were both alright. At some point you ended up in his bed, tangled in his sheets as the two of you used each other to try and forget the hurt that Steve had inflicted on the two of you. It happened only a handful of times before the two of you put an end to it, neither of you felt that it was fair to yourselves and you both needed to find better ways to move on. You stayed friends, and thankfully it wasn’t awkward between the two of you.

Then came the arrival of Loki in New York, and the city seemed to be gearing up for another fight only to find themselves placated with apologies, donations, and his efforts to help the people living in the city. It wasn’t long before it was like the attack on New York never happened all those years ago. You supposed the world had bigger problems to deal with, and if Loki wasn’t causing more then they were all too happy to forgive his past transgressions. You, however, hadn’t been so easy to win over, so while Bucky and Sam were dealing with the Flag Smashers you made it your personal mission to keep an eye on Loki.

He was amused by your insistence that he was up to no good, and your simmering hostility that you couldn’t entirely pass off as your own. Part of it was some misplaced lingering sense of loyalty to Steve. He’d never liked Loki after the attack, and he wasn’t happy to hear about how Loki hadn’t been kept imprisoned on Asgard. Somehow Steve was still influencing you even when he wasn’t there. You didn’t even realize it until the day that Loki dared to pin you to a wall and challenge your reasons for why you insisted on needling him and threatening him if he stepped a toe out of line.

“Is it because your precious Captain didn’t care for me that you linger around waiting for me to do something wicked?” He had whispered the words mere inches away from your face as you glared into the brilliant blues of the god. You didn’t want to think about it, because truthfully New York had been so long ago and seemed like such a blip on the radar compared to everything that had happened afterwards. What he said next though knocked the wind out of your sails. “Or perhaps you’re hoping I’ll do something wicked to you.” He breathed with a smirk.

You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything as your brow furrowed in silent anger.

“Don’t think I don’t know why you’re so bothered by my presence, elskan. I see the way you look at me when you don’t think I’m aware.”

Shit shit shit. It was something that you hadn’t wanted to acknowledge, but it seemed that Loki was intent on making you do just that.

“Your precious Captain left you for another woman, why waste time with being loyal to a man that didn’t think you were good enough to stay in the present for.” It was cruel, and it hurt to hear. It had hurt so much that you hadn’t thought when you slapped Loki across the face. Tears brimming in your eyes that you refused to let yourself shed anymore tears for Steve Rogers. “Such anger you have, elskan. Go ahead, let it out.” That taunting smirk was back on Loki’s face and it caused something in you to snap.

You dragged him in by the lapels of his expensive suit, and claimed his lips in a heated kiss. It was all teeth and burning anger that you had been burying for nearly four months. Nothing about it was soft or sad, not like it had been those few times with Bucky. You were rough with him, nails clawing and dragging against whatever part of him you could reach. You paid little care to his expensive garments, ripping them asunder and leaving them tattered as you worked him out of his clothes. And he was equally just as harsh with you, your shirt and jeans were in scraps in seconds, the matching bra and panties under it weren’t even spared a glance before they met the same unfortunate fate. There was no sweet foreplay, no loving kisses, no soft touches, just Loki’s digits stretching you out and making you come apart before he was shoving his length inside you with a harsh grunt. You lost track of time then, of all the different ways you let him take you, and of all the places in his lofty penthouse that he fucked you in. You let Loki use you, and Loki let you use him, let you get it all out of your system and gave you a reason other than Steve to let tears stream down your face as he fucked you the way only a god could.

That was how it started, and somewhere along the way things shifted. It wasn’t just about using Loki to forget about Steve, it turned into actually enjoying the god of mischief. And all the gifts and attention he showered you in only served as further incentive to let your little tryst continue. You’d joked with Loki about it one night, calling him your sugar daddy. Of course he wasn’t exactly sure what that phrase meant but when you explained it he hardly seemed upset at the prospect of being used for attention and gifts. After all he was using you for sex and companionship, and according to him if he had the means to spoil you then he saw no point in not doing so. That was the extent of the conversation between you about your relationship, and you didn’t question it or let yourself feel bad about it. You’d had enough of feeling bad, and after Steve you weren’t even sure if you wanted anything deeper than what you and Loki were willing to give at the moment.

It was bliss after that, a whole eight months of you and Loki enjoying the relationship you’d built. And then one day an unexpected visitor showed up on your doorstep.

You should have asked who it was before you answered, but you had been expecting Loki to pick you up for that evening's date. What you hadn’t expected was for Steve to be standing there a year later on your doorstep looking at you like you’re the most precious thing in the world. God what you wouldn’t have given to have him look at you like that months ago. Now all you have is confusion and bitterness for the man in front of you. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“What? No hello, babe?” He teased, and your vicious glare sobered him up in an instant. Clearly the lighthearted approach wasn’t the way to go here. “Right, I don’t deserve that after what I did.”

You scoffed as if that weren’t abundantly obvious while you pulled your phone from your purse to text Loki about this new development. “How did you find me?” You questioned, and Steve had the good sense to look embarrassed at going through the trouble to track you down.

“I called in a few favors when I found out that you moved out of our place.”

“Of course you did, why are you here?”

He didn’t say anything at first, just looked at you for a moment before sighing heavily. “I came back for you.”

You’re surprised enough by the admission that you looked up and met his gaze only to find yourself comparing the blues of his eyes to Loki’s.

“I spent a year with Peggy, and all I could think about was you. I thought, well I thought a life in the past was what I needed but all that time I couldn’t stop thinking about the things you said about her that day. It-it, uh...it got to the point that I couldn’t even look at her, and I realized that I was never in love with Peggy. It was just the idea of her, and I was an idiot that gave up something great with you for something that wasn’t even real.”

“And it took you a year to realize that?” You questioned, brow arched as you inspected your fresh set that Loki had paid for earlier that day. The thought of how the sparkling green and gold of your nails were going to look so good when your fingers were wrapped around Loki’s cock later brought a smirk to your lips. Unfortunately Steve thought the expression was for him.

“Well no, it took me two months, and I thought that maybe you wouldn’t want to ever see me again, and that I should just stay and make the best of things. I couldn’t do it though, I missed you too much, doll.” You could hear the hope in his voice, and the petty bitch in you wanted nothing more than to crush it like he had your heart a year ago.

“You should have stayed.” You replied simply, the sight of Loki’s car pulling up in front of the house he had paid for. “I moved on, and I honestly have nothing for you but resentment.”

Steve’s hopeful smile fell at that, his head turning to follow your gaze. He scowled at the sight of Loki sliding gracefully from the driver’s seat and stepping around to lean against the side of the car so he could watch the two of you. Steve wanted to stomp down there and wipe the self satisfied smirk from Loki’s lips but he knew it wouldn’t look good if he attacked the god with no just cause.

“Yeah, I heard about that. Buck told me you and Loki had gotten cozy while I was away.” His tone held bitterness, and it made your heart soar with joy to know that he was unhappy.

“We’re a little more than cozy, Steve. Who do you think bought me this house?” You couldn’t help but throw it in Steve’s face. Once upon a time he talked about marrying you and getting a house for you two to start a family in. Knowing that Loki had done that for you because he wasn’t there to make good on his promises had his jaw clenching so hard that he could hear his teeth creaking under the pressure.

“So you’re dating?”

You rolled your eyes, it honestly wasn’t his business. “We’re something, if you must know. Loki gives me what I want, I give him what he wants, and we’re both happy with that. Now if you don’t mind getting off my porch, I have a date.” You were ready to dismiss him, but Steve wasn’t ready to end the conversation so soon. He wasn’t ready to accept that you had moved on from him, and to Loki of all people. This wasn’t what he’d come back for and it was making him angry to see you so happy to indulge in something so superficial and empty with someone as dangerous and cunning as Loki.

"I don't understand, why are you acting like this? I came back. Doesn't that mean something after what we shared? How can you act like you don't care about me anymore?"

Was he serious? Was he delusional? You weren't sure which it was but your already thin patience was at the end of its rope. "What don't you understand, Steven?" He flinched at the use of his given name, you only did that when you were angry. "You abandoned me for another woman, made me feel like I wasn't good enough, the fact that you realized you didn't want her and came running back doesn't make up for what you did. You fucked up, and I stopped caring about you months ago. Seeing you again is nothing more than an unpleasant surprise." Your words stung his pride and you could see it plain as day reflected on his features. In his anger and hurt though, Steve's next words were just another nail in the coffin.

“You know what he’s done, you know he’s a killer and you’re still willing to play his happy little who-” Steve’s words were cut off abruptly by your hand colliding with his throat, and your knee coming up painfully between his legs. He crumpled to the ground with a pained wheeze, fuck he had forgotten how fast you were.

“Fuck you, Steven. I know what he did, and I don’t care. Hurts doesn’t it? That’s exactly how I felt when you ignored all of Peggy’s bullshit and still left me for her.” You spat, glaring down at the man you had once wanted a family with. “You don’t get to have an opinion on what I do, who I do it with, or how. You forfeited that right when you ran off to play house with Peggy. You don’t get to break my heart, and then come back to judge me for how I chose to fix it, you selfish bastard.” You pulled your front door shut behind you with a slam, locking it quickly and stepping around Steve so you could stride your way towards Loki. “If you’re here when I get back I’m calling the cops, I don’t want to see you again.”

Steve coughed, hurt, guilt, and shame all flooding through him as he watched you walk away from him and into Loki’s embrace. Anger bloomed in his chest when the god took the time to press a possessive kiss to your lips while his hands roamed freely over you before he finally opened the door to usher you into the car.

“Nice seeing you again, Captain. Have a nice night, I know she will.” Leave it to Loki to rub salt into an already gaping wound.

Steve could only glare as he slowly righted himself, he had done this. He had left you for something he didn’t even end up wanting, and he’d pushed you right into the arms of another. Now you were happy and it wasn’t with him. That was what hurt the most, and the thing that made him sick to his stomach. He should have listened to Bucky back then and stayed, and he should have listened to Bucky now and stayed away.

[user21340]

the world in her arms

(i don’t own this gif or characters used in this fic)

pairing: natasha romanoff x fem!reader

summary: you and natasha have always had quite a flirty and sarcastic relationship. both of you develop feelings for one another but you both are clueless to what the other feels until nat gets jealous and says something hurtful to you. will you make up (or out)?

warnings: minor angst, fluff, swearing, and a mention of death.

word count: 2.1k

a/n: omg thank you so much for 57 followers love you all 💕. sorry for the lack of content i didn’t know what to write and had almost no new ideas. also i’m a youngin and worked my first 8 hr day yesterday so your girl was exhausted and i have finals coming up soon. k thank you for coming to my ted talk, enjoy!

also this song doesn’t relate to the story at all but it’s underrated imo and also sorry for the weird pov changes throughout the story.

“Hey y/l/n! Where are you headed?” Natasha yells from the kitchen while I’m standing in the living room on our shared floor.

“Wouldn’t you like to know Nat.” I say with a smirk.

“Yeah matter of fact I would.” she retorts.

“Chill, I’m just headed to train some recruits with Clint. But don’t miss me too much, I'll be back in a few hours, Natty.” You blow a kiss her way, and she just rolls her eyes partially from the kiss and the use of her nickname but you see a faint pink tint sitting atop of her cheeks before she turns away.

I’ve been training these recruits with Clint for a couple hours and my session is nearing an end. Something I’ve picked up on today is how touchy and how dumb these recruits are acting just for me to correct their form. I don’t have time for this shit I think as this girl has me correct her jab form for what has to be the fifth time this hour.

Non readers pov

Natasha actually does start to miss you because of how bored she is due to the larger training room being occupied for these recruits. She heads down to see if you are wrapping up yet and see if you’d like to grab dinner with her somewhere. She arrives at the training room and heads to the back room where there is a large one way mirror. Natasha, having nothing better to do, watches Clint and yourself interact with these seemingly clueless recruits.

Minutes pass and Natasha honestly likes seeing your frustration every time a recruit asks you a stupid question or something you’d already answered for the hundredth time this session. That is until she sees this handsy recruit keep asking you to correct your form which she sees you fake a smile at and happily correct it. As if Natasha isn’t jealous already she sees you release a genuine large laugh at something a recruit says. Not being able to withstand witnessing anymore of this behavior from you directed towards anyone else except her. Natasha then storms off into the living room.

Readers pov

I was nearing the end of this session when a recruit comes up behind me and asks, “Soooo, is it true that you and Clint are like a thing?” he asks with no trace of humor or sarcasm on his face. I just bust out laughing because one, everyone or at least almost everyone who knows about The Avengers knows that I’m 100% only interested in women and two, CLINT? I mean he is a great guy and all but I’ll never forget the time I went into a diner to have breakfast with him and the waitress assumed he was my grandfather.

twenty long minutes later...

The living room is lively and everyone seems to strike up a conversation with one another. I decide to strike up a conversation with Natasha who is weirdly acting cold all of a sudden.

“Oh my god! You know what I just remembered the other day? My mom used to-“

“Shut up, y/n/n. I don’t care and I don’t think anyone does at the moment.” she exclaims with a small smirk thinking you’ll detect her harsh-morbid sarcasm.

“Oh.” you choke out, “It’s getting pretty late I-I better head to bed” my voice cracks as I mutter a small, ‘asshole’ agony laced in my voice blinking the hot tears away. I start walking towards my room but it slowly turns into a jog, then sprint. Anything to get to my room and release my sadness.

Non readers pov

The room is frozen. Everyone is staring at Natasha.

“I care.” Wanda states heading to your room because she knows you shouldn’t be alone right now.

“Jesus Nat, that was awful. You know you’ve fucked you when even I say it’s bad. Poor girl’s mom passed when she was around 10.” Tony deadpans.

“Oh my god, what have I done?” Nat says burying her head into her hands.

“I’m not too sure how you’re gonna get out of this one Nat, but you’ve gotta fix this.” Sam says.

Wanda reaches your room and hears loud yet muffled sobs while standing in the hallway. She can feel your grief rippling through her body. The only heartache she can relate to is the moment she lost Pietro which is more than an average person should feel. She knocks on the door softly yet hard enough to alert you of her presence.

Readers pov

I hear three soft knocks on the door. I quickly silence my cries and assume it is Nat. I then clear my throat as the knocking continues and muster up enough energy to speak,

“Go away” into my pillow loudly. The knocking stops but I don’t hear anyone walk away just yet.

“Y/n/n, it’s Wanda. Can you let me in please, so we can talk?” she asks, I stand up while groaning and walk towards the door. I unlock it and open it just a crack to make sure she is alone and not with a certain someone. It is pretty short-lived as Wanda pushes the door open the rest of the way.

“Oh hon, I’m sorry.” She says as she wraps me into a tight hug after closing the door behind her. I crumble into her embrace as she rubs small circles on my back. Wanda has always been such a calming figure in my life since I met her, a major part being that she can feel almost all of my anxieties that try to drown me throughout a day. She also knows how it feels to be alone which allows her to relate to my feelings, so she knows just how much missing someone who is gone for eternity hurts.

We hug for what feels like minutes but when I take a quick glance outside my window it is dark out.

“Is it true?” I rasp.

“What?” she counters.

“Y’know that no one cares. All I wanted to do was share a memory that I remembered of myself with my mom and as you know it isn’t too often that I remember these types of things and when I do I love sharing them, so she won’t ever be forgotten. It just hurts so much to be shut down talking about something you truly care about by someone you care about.” I explain while Wanda looks at me with the softest eyes I’ve ever seen while nodding her head slightly.

“Now that is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. I care and everyone in this compound cares about what you have to say as well as what you are feeling. You know how Natasha can be sometimes with the insensitive comments she makes before realizing what she’s doing.”

“I know but that doesn’t give her the right to j-just say stuff like that. I get how full our relationship is with banter and sarcastic comments but I really thought she was starting to like me.” I frown as Wanda just nods. That’s when exhaustion hits me like a truck.

“Wands, before I ask you this just know you can decline.” I give her a minute to protest, but she says nothing. ” Can you sleep with me?” Wanda’s eyes widen,

”Y/n/n I don’t think that is a good id-“ I realize what I just said and cut her off before things get even more uncomfortable. “Nonono, Wanda, like lay down with me not any of that gross stuff. Ew.” Wanda’s features fill with relief, and she chuckles at my childish comment about sex.

“Of course I will! You just may want to word it a little different next time.” she chuckles as you hide your face with embarrassment. We both get settled on the bed and I feel her two arms pull me towards her and I snuggle closer.

Non readers pov

Wanda slowly gets out of bed after she is sure you are fast asleep and sets off to find Nat. When she does she sees that Nat had barely moved from where she last saw her still with her face in her hands.

“Nat. I know you think you really screwed up, which you did, but it’s y/n/n. You can’t go on without telling her how you feel about her.”

“Wanda, you can’t just look in my mind! We’ve talked about this!”

“Romanoff you know I’m one to keep my promises, so I’d never look without your permission. Maybe if you turned down the volume of your thoughts a few decibels I wouldn’t have heard anything. Also, are you ready that oblivious to the fact the whole team knows you two are like little lovesick puppies for one another when you two aren’t attached by the hip.” she explains, “Now, stop moping around and apologize at least.”

“You’re right, Wands, wish me luck. I hope she can forgive me.”

Natasha gets up and races towards your room. She didn’t want to wait so long to talk to you and apologize, but she thought you wouldn’t want to speak to her after what she’d said.

Similarly, to Wanda’s entrance, Natasha softly knocks on your door enough to wake you even out of your semi-deep sleep.

Readers pov

I jump at the knocks on the door and am confused to see Wanda is no longer beside me.

“Wanda you don’t have to knock, you know that.” I sigh out.

“It isn’t Wanda.” a voice you are able to recognize as Nat sheepishly speaks.

“Oh, what do you need?” I ask, all the heartbreak and ache coming back when I hear the voice I’m usually excited to listen to, as if her speech is my favorite song.

“Can we talk? I need to apologize.”

“Sure,” I softly reply.

Non readers pov

Nat opens the door once she has your permission and sees your usual strong, confident frame look small and fragile. Her heart breaks at the sight of you so broken and in pain because of her own actions. Not to mention your tear stained cheeks when you look towards her. It is silent for a minute or so before you throw your head back onto your pillow staring at the ceiling. This awakens something in Natasha for an unknown reason.

Readers pov

“Y/n, I am so sorry. I know that sorry doesn’t cut it for the amount of hurt I’ve caused you all because I was jealous but I hope we can rebuild what we had but it totally is okay if you don’t want to even though I would love another chance with yo-“

“Nat, calm down. I’m not going to sit here and say I’m fine with what you said because truth be told I love sharing memories of my family when I remember them with you. Not only because I trust you but because I think I care for you and love you more than friends should. I just hope what you said is meaningless or else that is when we can’t rebuild what we had.”

“No y/n/n, I didn’t mean any of it. It was just in the heat of the moment because I saw you laughing at something a recruit said when I was going to ask you if you wanted to go get dinner with me. So, I stormed off like a child and said hurtful things to mask my selfishness because I want you to be mine and mine only.”

“Oh my god Nat. You can’t be serious, I was laughing at something a recruit said because he assumed Clint and I were going out.” Nat bursts out laughing.

“See? Anyone who was told that who knew me would just die of laughter on the spot.” I say as I glance her way while patting the place beside me on my bed. She accepts.

“So you actually like me?” you hopefully ask.

“Possibly depending on if those feelings are reciprocated.”

“They are.” I say.

“Good. Can I also say how sorry I am for saying that to-“ I cut her off but placing a quick peck to her soft lips.

“Uh, uh, uh” I tut, “I don’t want to hear any more apologies come out of that mouth. Could you just hold me?” Natasha is still dumbfounded by the little kiss.

“Of course.” Nat complies pressing your back to her front as she wraps her long toned arms around your frame. I hum at the contact.

At this moment Nat realizes there is no place she’d rather be as she feels like she has the world in her arms.

[wannabe-fic-writer]

Moment In Time

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: Just when you've gotten out, you’re given a reason to come back.

Warnings: Mild Language

Chapter 5

* * * * * * *

“You and Fury seem to forget that I’m retired pretty easily.” You say, eyes focused on your surroundings instead of the man talking to you.

A nice breeze flows past, followed by another crowd of passersby. The street is busy as always at this time of day but you always appreciate the hustle and bustle of the city. Something about it appealed to you. 

New York has always been busy, for as long as you can remember. Admittedly, with the lack of advanced technology in your time, people spent a lot more time talking to each other in passing than they now spend on their phones.

“No one’s forgotten, except maybe you,” Tony says and you turn to refocus your attention on him.“ Or did you forget that it was you who copped a ride with Fury to Sokovia.”

Of course you didn’t forget that. That mission had been more dangerous and life threatening than any one you’d previously been on. 

The man hums and nods, a soft chuckle leaves his lips,“ unless of course you weren’t there for the team.” 

“What?” Your eyebrows pinch together,“ what’re you talking about?” 

“I’m talkin about you and Romanoff.” He leans forward, pushing his coffee cup away a little.“ Clint told me about that little moment you two had before the city fell. What’d you do? Spring to action when you realized Natasha was in danger?”

Your eyes roll but you avoid answering his question. Cause that is actually what you did. On top of being generally concerned with the safety of your friends, your main focus was Natasha. You’d never admit it, out loud, but you know that’s what happened. And you know why you did, even if you won’t admit it at all. 

“Awe, don’t want me exposing your crush on Nat?” He further teases and your nose turns up at him.

“Think I liked you better when you were running around in pjs and building robots and stuff.” He makes an offended face and you smile sarcastically at it.“ If I agree to train the Maximoff kids will you not mention these supposed feelings for Natasha that you assume I have.”

For a moment he looks at you, then nods.“ You’ve got yourself a deal Y/ln. Also,” he pushes his chair back and stands up,“ you’re just training the girl. Rogers apparently has some special plan for Speedy.” Picking up his cup, he claps his hand on your shoulder with extra force, and walks away.

Just as you’re about to slouch into your seat to stay an extra few minutes he calls out for you to come with him and you resist the urge to groan. Sighing softly, you finish your tea and get up. 

As you expected Tony takes you to the tower. His choice of music blasts through the sports car and you can’t help but chuckle. Since he was thirteen he’d been obsessed with classic rock. You have no idea what the first song he heard was but whatever it was it hooked him to the genre.

Through the loud music he explains everything you’ll have to go over with Wanda and mentions that he’s getting a facility together upstate that will become the new Avengers HQ, but that move is going to take some time so the tower is still “home” as of now. You nod along, knowing that if not for your enhanced abilities you wouldn’t be able to hear him correctly.

By the time Tony pulls into the private parking garage, whipping into his spot and turning the car off, you completely understand what role you’re about to play in terms of training Wanda.

“What? Eager to get to work?” He asks after you’ve practically sprinted out of the car. 

“More like eager to get out before my ears start bleeding.” You tell him, glancing over your shoulder at him to stick your tongue out playfully. You don’t have to keep looking at him to know he rolled his eyes. 

The familiarity of the building makes it easy to navigate. Pretty much leaving Tony in the dust, you walk through the lobby to the elevators. Taking them up to the training floor. 

Your plan hadn’t been to see anyone just yet. Mainly coming here to form some sort of plan as far as training the Maximoff girl goes. Only for her to be the person you run into once having stepped into the training room.

She’s across the room, fingers running over the edges of a treadmill as her eyes look through the large floor to ceiling window. You imagine she’s taking in the sight the tower provides of New York. 

“Beautiful isn’t it?” You ask, effectively grabbing the young woman’s attention. She turns her head to face you, eyebrows pinching together as she’s not familiar with you, only having seen you just before you hugged Natasha in Sokovia. 

“It is.” She replies shortly and you chuckle at it, stepping further into the room. 

Giving her a soft smile you introduce yourself,“ I’m Y/n,” you move over to the weight benches,“ Stark asked me to come in and help you adjust.”

Her eyes narrow and that draws your attention to the fact that her eyes are green.“ Are you an Avenger? Because I haven’t seen you around here.”

“I am not. I’m supposed to be retired but no one seems to give a damn so here I am.” Spreading your arms a little to emphasize your current location.

For whatever reason your words make her giggle and you smile at that, happy to have broken the ice at least a little. 

“So how’re you going to help me adjust Y/n?” Her inquisitive gaze follows her moving closer to you.

“Not sure. What do you need help adjusting to?” Your head tilts and your eyebrow quirks.“ The training regiment? Your new chaotic teammates? Living in New York?” 

“Is all of the above an option?” She asks, and although you know she’s serious you still hear the teasing in her tone. 

With a quiet laugh you nod,“ all of the above is an option.” You let her know.“ Um, I’m not sure of all the details with the move upstate but how about I show you around the tower and we can go over the basics of your training and such?” You decide to pose it as a question in case she doesn’t want to.

“That would be nice actually.” She smiles and you notice that it’s truly genuine. So with a smile in return, you motion for her to follow you out of the room. 

With her being on this floor, you assume she’s seen it all. Not that there’s much to see. It’s the training floor so there’s nothing but gyms and a locker room. Getting in the elevator, you press the number for one of the floors dedicated to just hanging out.

Not liking the silence of the elevators, Wanda breaks it with a question.“ So why didn’t you join the Avengers?” 

“Um,” you take a deep breath and release it as a sigh,“ I’d already done the whole superhero thing before. The Avengers came in and I was no longer needed.”

“Oh really?” She asks and her tone of voice makes you chuckle, then nod.“ And what made you want to be a superhero?”

The elevator stops and the doors slide open.“ I saw what they could do. The difference superheroes make in people's lives.”

Picking up on the shift in your energy, Wanda frowns, ignoring the very expensive looking stuff in the room.“ What happened?” She asked carefully, as if she were trying not to trigger something. 

“I-” you sigh softly, contemplating whether to actually tell her or not. Looking into her eyes you see past the general curiosity and what you find pushes you to tell her. 

So you both get comfortable on one of the couches in the room and you open up to her.“ I was taken by HYDRA when I was fairly young. And it’s not like the guards and scientists were interested in anything other than making me the perfect weapon. So when they started to experiment on me I was already in a horrible state physically. My health was on a steady decline and none of their experiments worked, it actually made me fatally ill. And with no further use of me, they’d left me there to die.” 

Wanda listens intently, eyes misting with tears at the information of your mistreatment.“ But you didn’t.”

“No I didn’t,” you both laugh softly at that.“ The, at the time soon to be, founders of SHIELD were working with the US military to shut down HYDRA after World War II and they found the facility I was being held in. While they saved everyone who was being held captive there, I was in the worst shape. Seeing that I was on the verge of death, they made a decision to administer the super soldier serum to me to save my life.”

Wanda’s eyebrows raise and you have to admit that her expression is amusing.“ You’re a super soldier from World War II?” You nod.“ How old would that make you?” 

“I’m 90. And I wasn’t in the war. I was born before the war. When it started I was 16 and already in a HYDRA base.”

She looks down and bites her bottom lip. You know she has another question on the tip of her tongue. And with her background, having volunteered to be experimented on by HYDRA, you know she’ll have a lot more questions after that.

So with a deep breath, you ask what’s on her mind and tuck in for a long conversation.

* * * 

After a long day at SHIELD, going over papers to further induct the twins into the Avengers, Natasha finally gets back to the tower. She ignores all the SHIELD agents rushing in and out of the lobby and goes straight for the elevators. 

Mentally, she admits that after the headache that is going into SHIELD, the sound of your laugh as soon as she gets on the main floor is refreshing. A small smile forms on her face and she makes her way towards the kitchen where she hears your voice.

While she knows you’re friends with the rest of her team, she can’t help but wonder if you came here to see her.

That thought falls short the instant she reaches the kitchen doorway. She quickly finds that the source of your laugh is the same young woman she’d just been recruiting onto her team. 

In fact, laughter comes from you and Wanda as you cook together. The aroma smells incredible but she can’t help but to remember that this is the very same thing the two of you had done on multiple occasions. 

“Nat, hey, when’d you get here?” 

Your voice pulls Natasha from her thoughts and she almost smiles again. Almost. 

“A few minutes ago.” She decides to take a step closer, which puts her right in the doorway.“ What’re you two making?”

“Um,” your eyebrows pinch together and you look at Wanda.

“Paprikash.” She answers with a quiet giggle and a shake of her head. 

You smile at her then look back up at Natasha,“ we’re making Paprikash.”

The redhead hums, debating with herself on whether she should stay or not. An indescribable feeling nagged in the back of her mind, growing more persistent as she looks at you and Wanda happily interacting with one another. It gradually chips away at her excitement to spend time with you and she hates it.

With a huff she says,“ I’ll leave you two to it.”

She turns on her heel and walks away, effectively dodging the blue blur that is Pietro running into the kitchen, heading back to the elevator. With her floor practically empty due to the move, she wasn’t eager to go up but it seemed more relaxing than watching someone else make you laugh and smile how she did. 

Just as the elevator doors have started to close you slip through, narrowly missing getting your arm caught between the doors, and stand directly in front of her. Your eyes scan her form, up to her face and lingering there. She watches as you take her in, your eyes finally meeting. 

In a soft voice, one that practically melts her heart, you ask,“ are you okay?” She can’t say she expected you to ask that, plus the equally as soft look in your eyes, she grasps for an answer. One that isn’t ‘I didn’t like seeing you so happy with someone else’.

“Just tired. It’s been a long day and my floor isn’t exactly relaxation friendly right now.” She excuses. 

Nodding along, you smile a little at her,“ think I could help with that if you’d let me.” And there’s no way she’s saying no.

That’s how, a little over thirty minutes later, she finds herself following you into your apartment building with takeout bags and beer in hand. 

You hadn’t explained the plan until you were picking up the food. Telling her that a change of scenery might be exactly what she needs. Her trying to relax and unwind at the Tower was equivalent to a lawyer trying to relax at their firm.“ You can’t destress from work at work.” You reasoned. 

Unlocking your door, you gently push it open and hold it for Natasha. She wasn’t sure what to expect of your apartment, but what she finds definitely isn’t it.

Walking into your apartment makes her a little confused. It’s like stepping into a time vault that housed a number of different eras all at once. While things like your appliances and a few tables or paintings were modern or at least from the last decade, your couch, chairs, and even your cabinets look dated.

It was as if you furnished your home without a single clue of what you actually knew you wanted to present. But it’s you. Natasha finds that it almost perfectly embodies the person she’s come to know you to be. 

Since the moment she met you it was clear you were equally as present as you were stuck in the past. Your friendships with Tony and Steve showed that in an ironic way. With Tony the majority of your conversations or bonding was over the future, things he was planning, building, or tinkering with that would change the future. While with Steve you focused on the way things used to be in the era you grew up and were raised in.

“Nice place.” She finally says, moving her eyes from the kitchen to you.“ Very, you.”

The look you give her makes a small giggle leave her lips. You seemed so proud of her first comment and then the second one made you frown, as if you couldn’t tell if you should take it as an insult or a compliment. 

“Don’t think too hard Y/ln, your ears are starting to smoke.” She says jokingly, patting your cheek without giving it any thought. Her turning away makes her miss the way you flush at her inconsequential touch. 

At your invitation, she makes herself at home, finding a spot on the couch and starting to unpack the food. You join her shortly after with plates and forks, turning the tv on and going to a channel you both enjoy watching. 

“How you feelin about the move?” You ask, picking up your plate and leaning back against the couch. Even though the tv is on, Natasha can’t help but notice that all your attention seems to be on her. 

While she is definitely used to the attention, men and women alike focusing solely on her because of her looks, your attention is different. She knows it would be unreasonable of her to think you aren’t paying attention to her for her looks because well, when she gives you attention the first thing she looks at is your looks. You’re incredibly attractive, especially to the redhead. But it was more than that. 

On both ends, yourself and Natasha saw the physical beauty, but you looked beyond that. You saw the beauty of each other’s personalities. 

You’re lighthearted, you have an outlook on life that she finds intriguing, and not just because you’re decades older than her, it was how you maintained a fairly optimistic view on things despite the cards you’d been dealt in the past. On top of that you’re honest and caring, especially to the people you consider friends and family.

As far as she goes, you see her in, almost, the same way she sees you. She’s honest. Shows her care in a way that you find adorable, mainly because it’s so nonchalant. Her will to keep going, to endure the many trials she’s been through. Her strength never fails to amaze you. Not to mention the absolute admiration you have for her in regards to her clearing her ledger. Especially since being an Avenger means so much more to her than just that. 

That thought alone sends a rumbling of butterflies in her stomach and she hates how childish it feels but loves it all the same. 

“Um,” she looks down, letting her hair curtain between you two to hide the blush that rises.“ I can’t say I feel any particular way about it.”

When she feels your fingers ghost over her cheek, she has half a mind to grab your hand and break it, but it’s you and she’s been secretly craving your touch. In the softest gesture she’d ever been on the end of, you brush her hair back. Your fingers lightly run over her cheek and temple as you hook her hair behind her ear. 

She looks over to see you drop your head slightly to catch her eye, a little smile on your face.“ It is okay if you aren’t all that happy to be leaving. The tower has been your home for the last few years. An attachment or even familiarity with it is understandable.” 

“I-” she sighs, just barely tilts her head closer to your touch, then lifts her head.“ I’ve never had a home Y/ln.” She knows you can hear the hurt in her words, cause admittedly she didn’t hide it like she usually would. She doesn’t feel the need to with you.

You go quiet for a moment and Natasha wonders if maybe she should’ve kept her somber comment to herself. The instant she considers walling herself off again, you speak.“ Well then maybe,”

She raises an eyebrow at you.“ Maybe what?”

“Maybe this could be your home.” You swallow, nerves manifesting in the way you play with your food.“ I know you’ve only just been here today but, everyone deserves a safe haven. Somewhere they can escape from the rest of the world. Everyone deserves a home.” You finally look back into her eyes,“ especially you Nat.”

You didn’t know but in that moment you got to her in a way no one else ever had. You didn’t tear her walls down. Instead, as if understanding the very reason the walls had been put up in the first place, you built a door to her heart and soul. And only you hold the key to it.

She’s hit with the weight of her feelings for you, feelings she’d never had for anyone before. As terrifying as she finds it, she can’t help but think that if there’s anyone who she could trust to be gentle with these feelings it’s you.

* * * * * * *

Taglist: @owloftheshadows @natasha-danvers @blackxwidowsxwife @yumusak-yastik @b-5by5 @fayhar @lostandsearching @iliketozoneout @thewidowsghost @ecruzsalaz

[dancingaliensfics]

♡My Prison Pen Pal♡

Helmut Zemo x reader

Word count: 1,802

Warnings: swearing, mentions of prison and crimes and slight angst to do with his family

A/N: its finally here! I havent writen a fic in a long time so hopefully you guys like this! I tried to avoid using idioms and things like that but message me if you need anything explained or reworded as I know most people aren't native English speakers

@sorcerersofnyc

♡♡♡

His first letter came during the series finale of your favourite show. A rather inconvenient moment, you thought, so it stayed on the welcome mat until you passed through the hall on your way to bed. Picking it up, you figured you'd skim the first few lines then finish it and write a reply before work. Instead, you found yourself writing and rewriting a reply through the night. Somehow this man had managed to enthrall you with only a letter. Maybe it was the way he wrote as if he was some elegant poet whose sonnets would one day be hailed as classics. How he managed to be open and expressive, exuding a welcoming aura, and yet still seeming mysterious. Or perhaps it was simply fated by the stars that Helmut Zemo would capture your heart.

You waited anxiously for his second letter to arrive. After sending the first, you hadn't cared whether you got a response, the whole thing seemed like a bad idea to you. But your mother was insistent that you needed to meet new people and this way you wouldn't need to worry about awkward face to face conversations. Sending the first letter felt like any other chore you do in the day, done with much effort and resignment but forgotten within minutes. But the second? It felt like the most important thing you'd done in a long time. You'd even bought a first class stamp (not that it makes a difference).

You wanted to know more about this intriguing man. No, supervillain. Charged with international terrorism. Jesus christ what the fuck was wrong with you? Were you really falling in love with a supervillain after one letter? But he didn't seem evil to you. He wrote eloquently, somehow his simple and brief description of his day (he'd started reading a new psychology book, you'd have to send him some recommendations) sounded fascinating in his words.

Over time, you started to notice small things about Helmut. The way he crossed his t's, how he signed his name, but mainly that there was a romanticism to his writing. From the way he described his home, his wife, his son to his recipes for Sokovian dishes with small notes and doodles (your favourite was his shepherd's pie recipe where he helpfully noted his mother's assertion that you should always add more than you think you need). It was becoming clear to you that he wasn't the stoic and vengeful baron you expected but rather a soft, lonely and endearingly weird man who you couldn't imagine plotting to destroy the Avengers. Whilst it was his mystery that first captivated you, it was his sweet and sometimes awkward personality that convinced you to keep writing.

It took a while for Helmut to tell you about his family. You had heard on the news back when he first arrested about his motive, so you were interested to hear his perspective on his crimes. But that wasn't what you got. Instead, he told you about when he and his father used to play football when he was young and how they would play a match every time he visited, with Helmut playing against his father and son, who always wanted to play with grandfather. He told you of the songs his wife used to sing, how her voice was always loud and shaky and after years of singing somewhere over the rainbow she would still forget the lyrics and invent her own. He told you how his son was the best pianist he had ever heard. How he could play the greatest rendition of amazing grace and that he had just learnt the theme from swan lake. That he had been excited to practice it on his grandfathers grand piano the day Ultron attacked.

There was something so human about this man. His love for his family, his loss and grief, his plan to avenge his family, it was all so tragic and yet here he was sending you drawings of the flowers from his garden growing up. You wanted to hug him and yet sometimes you felt he wouldn't need it, wouldn't want it. You were wrong.

Helmut Zemo missed his family. He told you so in one of his most recent letters. He missed holding his son, brushing his wife's hair, going for long drives, waking up at 2am to comfort his son, early morning trips to the shops, cleaning up after dinner, helping with homework. Everything he listed seemed so trivial, so meaningless in the grand scheme of life and yet the memories meant so much to him.

You realised then you had never pitied him before. Not that he wasn't deserving of it, just that he didn't seem to need it. But overtime you realised that what Helmut had really needed wasn't revenge or to make a world free from superhumans, it was someone to talk to. Someone to trust. Someone who would understand his pain and not judge it. Perhaps, you thought to yourself, you could be that person.

Fuck.

You couldn't think of how to cope with this. No one you knew had ever mentioned falling in love with a criminal through letters. And as hard as you tried you hadn't been able to find a single romcom with this plot line. You couldn't tell him. You imagined with his seemingly fragile state of mind receiving from basically a stranger professing their love would at best cause him to ghost you. Especially after he confided in you, shared his thoughts and memories.

So instead you continued as normal. You sent him pressed flowers and pictures of your favourite places. Eventually, he asked what looked like, and you spent an hour trying to decide whether you should send a picture of yourself or to just vaguely describe your features. After deciding to send a picture of yourself on holiday a few months before the blip, you found yourself wondering what he'd do with it. Would he throw it away as soon as he got the letter or would he keep it, tuck it away in some book to look at whilst thinking of you?

You also found yourself wondering what he looked like in the real world. You had found pictures of him online, but they didn't feel real. He was never rarely happy. The pictures pre Ultron were clearly taken by paparazzi, so you weren't surprised he rarely looked anything other than annoyed. There were a few though, ones with his wife and son, where he clearly hadn't noticed, and some from when he was much younger and seemed to enjoy the attention. Then were those taken after his arrest.

And so you continued to wonder he looked like. How he looked in the morning, with flowers in his hair or in summer with the sun lighting his face. You wondered what his hair looked like wet, if he ever scrunched his nose in disgust. You wondered what his smile was like.

Over time, you told him more about yourself. The stress of returning home after the blip to no job, no house and your friends 5 years older. Your ex was married with kids and your sister had moved abroad. It was as if you blinked and your whole life had changed. You mentioned how it was your mum who had suggested getting a pen pal, so you could talk to someone new, who was living a different life to you, although she had meant someone in a different country not jail. Since coming back you'd been isolated and stressed with starting a new job, recovering lost information and personal belongings and moving house, so you had thought it might be good to speak to someone who didn't know you, who couldn't judge you. You told Helmut how it had been good, how writing to him had helped you, how he had helped you more than he could ever know.

No, that sounded creepy. How you appreciated his letters.

Too formal. How you hadn't expected to become his friend, but you were glad to be able to say you were.

Helmut was comforting. You knew in your head that your meeting on Friday was nothing to worry about but seeing him say it felt so reassuring. Each one of his letters made you feel relaxed, feel safe. You wanted to make him feel the same. So, as a way to repay his kindness you had told him that no matter what happened, he could always trust you. And it was true. You couldn't imagine a world where you wouldn't do anything for Helmut and although you knew he would never need it, you still wanted him to know you would always care about him, even if no one else did.

Writing to him had become as easy as talking to someone you'd known all your life. You had fallen into an easy routine, you knew when to expect his letters and you knew when you'd send a reply. The routine felt so natural that you even knew what the envelope would look like, always the same off-white with a square edged flap. The address was always the same too. Except on his last letter. Which was strange.

At first, you thought Helmut had been moved to a different prison but after frantically typing the address into Google Maps you realised it was not a prison. Fuck you had no idea what it was, but it wasn't a prison. It also wasn't in Germany.

You sat still, staring at the unopened letter for a few minutes.

You looked up at the door. You thought you heard someone knock. The post had already come and you weren't expecting people. Hell, there wasn't anyone other than your parents who would visit anyway and they would have called first. Now you were sat still, staring at the front door.

"I know you're in there, the lights are on."

It was as if you were a marionette, being moved by some strange force that was slowly pulling you out of your seat and towards the door. You didn't even register that you moved until you felt the door handle on your fingertips. The cold metal caused you to stop, as if broken out of a trance. There was a sudden realisation that if you opened the door your life would never be the same. It was sickening, a mixture of dread and excitement; it reminded you of the moment before a roller coaster drops. You repeated that thought in your head. "Your life would never be the same". Your life hadn't been the same in almost a year. What would be the harm in one more big change. So you did it. You opened the door.

His smile was beautiful.

[bubbleteaimagines]

Meant to Be

Chris Evans Oneshot

Summary: In which you and Chris are meant to be, in one life or the other

Pairings: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of an age gap, angst, mentions of death, this is so sad but listen to this song while reading to have your heart ripped out

you glared at the back of chris’ head, or rather the back of his plane seat.

you were mad, and you were mad because you didn’t even have the right to be mad.

he hadn’t done anything wrong, technically. if you subtracted the fact that he had broken up with you months ago and had started dating a new woman shorty after then yes, chris evans had been perfectly innocent.

but no, instead it had been you that messed up. it had been you that couldn’t keep her fat mouth shut, word vomiting all over chris just before the plane ride.

you still cringed as you remember the moment.

you were standing outside of the airport, all cast members of the avengers headed to tokyo for press and interviews.

chris had been standing alone and for some reason, you had decided to take your final shot. you walked straight up to him, puffed out your chest, and blurred out how you were still in love with him like an idiot.

honestly, if you could have picked a time for an asteroid to suddenly destroy the earth then that would have been it.

there were no words to explain the awkwardness of your words, and how chris’ face looked as he gently explained to you that he was with someone now.

someone that wasn’t you. someone that wasn’t twenty years younger than him, someone more mature and most importantly, someone that wanted all the things he wanted.

you had to admit, it stung.

it stung bad that the only reason he broke up with you was because of your age.

“we’re too different,” he had said, “you’re only twenty and i’m almost forty. we just don’t want the same things anymore.”

what he meant to say was that he just didn’t want you anymore. and it killed you, it tore you apart everyday that you had lost the love of your life over a damn number.

what was a couple years when you had a romance like yours and chris’? you were so happy together. you had so much fun. there was never a dull moment and you loved each other so passionately, so deeply, that everybody you met would comment on it.

or, at least that’s what you thought.

but months later you were still left with a bitter taste in your mouth when you remembered that wasn’t your reality anymore.

he wasn’t yours anymore.

“you okay kid?” rdj looked at you worriedly as you bit the inside of your cheeks to keep from crying.

“no,” you whispered lowly so that chris or anyone else couldn’t hear you. “i did a stupid thing today. before we got on the plane, i...”

“ah. that,” robert winced as he reminisced the moment, and the awkward silence that followed.

“yes, that,” you sniffled, still staring at chris’ head. “i-i can’t believe i did that. i’m so stupid. chris was right — how would he ever want me back when i keep acting like a child?”

“hey,” rdj frowned and shook his head. “you’re not stupid. you were emotional. it happens to the best of us.”

“does it really?” you wonder, not believing it. “because right now, it seems like i’m the only one suffering.”

it was true — chris seemed absolutely fine. you never saw him crying in the tabloids after the breakup. you never saw him posting sad quotes on social media or shutting down completely.

in fact, it was the opposite. he seemed happier without your relationship. happier without you.

a sob bubbled up in your throat. you quickly ran for the bathroom.

chris and rdj both frowned at your disappearing figure, but chris also felt a pang of sadness.

he couldn’t help it, — how could he? you were once upon a time the absolute light of his life. for two years, you were his anchor. his rock. his pride and joy, the reason he wanted to come home every night.

chris had loved you with everything in his being. more than any woman he had ever before. you were the love of his life, but you were also someone he had let go.

to this day, he still didn’t know why he did it.

he didn’t know why he left you in hysterics that faithful day, begging him for an explanation. begging him not leave.

it still hurt when he thought about it. it still haunted his dreams, still caused him to twist his face in pain.

he hated hurting you. he always did.

but in a way, letting you go was to help you more than hurt you.

he knew that you were significantly younger than him. but still, he had tried to fool himself into thinking you could both work when it was clear you wanted different things.

chris wanted a family. he was ready to settle down, ready for you to get married and have children.

but you weren’t.

like any twenty year old, you wanted to party and see the world and maybe adopt a dog. but kids? marriage? you had barely experienced anything. you wanted more time, you had begged him to give you more time, but time wasn’t something chris had.

he wasn’t getting any younger.

but you were. you still had a young and fighting spirit and chris didn’t want to dampen it by forcing you into a life you weren’t ready for.

so he ended it.

he met another woman. they talked, they wanted the same things.

chris was happy. or at least, he tried to tell himself that. he tried to tell himself that he loved his girlfriend, loved that she wanted everything he wanted. he loved that he could finally have the life he’d always wanted.

only...it wasn’t.

because you weren’t in it.

-

the plane rocked vicicously as you stumbled back to your seat, eyes red.

thankfully, nobody decided to comment on it but you could see the frown on scarlet’s face and the concern on jermey’s. you could feel anthony wanting to say something, but he was right by chris and he didn’t wanna risk any drama.

not now. you all were supposed to be happy — you were promoting the biggest movie of your lives!

but excitement hardly reached you at all. hardly touched you at all, sadness blocking away any positive emotions.

“you okay?” robert asked again as you sat back down.

you stared at the floor for a moment before letting out a small nod. “i will be,” you said, not bothering to hide your voice this time.

chris frowned at this. he gripped the seat a little tight as the plane shook again.

“why don’t you relax?” rdj suggested, “have some water. try to get some sleep. we’ll be in tokyo soon.”

“where are we now?” you asked, trying to distract your mind.

“i think maybe...somewhere over indonesia? i dunno, the pilot didn’t specify. she just said—”

“ah!”

robert was cut off by the plane shaking again, but this time, it was more deadly.

you jolted to the left, a scream escaping your lips as you went flying out of your seat.

it had seemed you had forgotten to put your seat belt back on once you got back to your seat, and you tumbled into the aisle as the plane tilted in a deadly position.

“y/n!” oxygen masks were quickly administered to everybody on the plane. anthony had to fight chris to put on his, stopping him from taking off his seat belt and helping you.

“chris, no! you need this!”

“like hell! y/n needs me!” chris panicked as he saw your frame go flying.

scarlet screamed as the plane began to twist, the terrified voice of pilot administering the worst news possible.

“the engines have failed! the plane can no longer support itself! we’re going down!”

robert tried his best to reach out for you; to grab you and pull you to safety.

but it was as no use. the plane hit something hard and in a split second your body disappeared as the plane was literally torn apart.

the last thing he remembered was chris screaming for you before it all went black.

-

chris didn’t know how long it was before he finally woke again.

all he knew was that when he did, everything hurt like hell.

he groaned as the aches began to spread in his body, slowly peeling his eyes open to face the bright sunlight.

“h-hello?” his voice was horse. weak. “i-is anybody there?”

he cried out as he tried to move and felt pain emitting from his side. but as painful as it was, he knew he had to get up.

“chris?!”

several frantic voices called out his name, gasps echoing throughout the air. he moaned as someone dropped down beside him, the embrace that they pulled him into causing pain to shoot all over his body.

“oh my god, he’s alive!”

the voice belonged to scarlet. he could vaguely make out her blonde hair, and her figure as she stood over him.

“chris?”

anthony sooned joined her. “is that you buddy? can you hear us?”

“loud and clear,” chris moaned out. “w-what happened? why does everything...hurt?”

the only thing he remembered was seeing you run to the bathroom. and then, it all just went blank as if someone had erased his memories.

anthony’s face was as serious as he had ever seen it. but even more than that, it was grim. full of worry and hurt.

scarlet was the same. she had tears in her eyes and dirt on her expensive clothes that didn’t belong there. chris furrowed his eyebrows.

“we...” anthony swallowed thickly. “we were in a...crash. the engines — they stopped working. we barely had time to prepare before the plane...”

“oh my god,” chris was suddenly alert, panic filling very inch of him as he sat up.

he remembered now. he remembered seeing your figure flying all over the plane because you didn’t have a seat belt on. he remembered reaching for you, yelling your name and screaming for you.

he remembered begging any god that would listen to spare you before he blacked out.

“y/n!”

his eyes widened in horror. where were you?! he searched the premise quickly.

you weren’t anywhere sight. along with robert, jeremy, and hemsworth you were missing.

chris felt a feeling of absolute dread wash over him.

“no,” he whispered, quickly standing up. he ignored every pain in his body. he ignored scarlet and anthony’s warnings to take it easy.

he didn’t care. he didn’t care about himself anymore. his focus is was on you, and where the hell you were at the moment.

“y/n!” he yelled again, shaking his head frantically. “where is she? WHERE IS SHE?!”

both scarlet and anthony flinched at his tone. never, and they meant never, had chris yelled at them before.

“she’s alive,” scarlet answered immediately, trying to calm a frantic chris. “she’s alive, but...”

“it’s not looking good, pal,” anthony’s voice cracked, causing chris’ stomach to sink. “we found her but...she wasn’t wearing a seat belt. and when the plane crashed...she got stuck under some rubble.”

“oh god,” chris felt he was gonna be sick. “can i see her? where are the others? are they helping her? take me to her!”

“robert, jeremy and chris are all alive,” scarlet said. “they’re trying their best...”

scarlet’s voice fell on deaf ears as chris decided to just go see for himself. he was tired of them dancing around it. he wanted to see you. he wanted to know that you were okay, that you were alive.

“y/n!”

scarlet and anthony yelled after him but he paid them no mind, running through the rubble to find you.

the entire plane that they rented for you guys was in pieces. the wings had been ripped off, the cockpit was miles away, and the back of the plane, where you were sitting, was scattered everywhere.

“y/n!” chris tried again, his voice nearly going hoarse from yelling so loud.

but then this time, he did get a response.

he whipped around as someone called out his name, but disappointment filled his veins as he saw that it was only jermey.

“chris, buddy...” rdj and chris hemsworth ran up to him, holding him back.

“chris, you don’t need to see this,” hemsworth told him grimly.

so that meant you were nearby. but where?

scarlet said you had been trapped under some rubble. but what chris expected time was maybe a seat, or a small piece of metal.

a strangled cry left his throat as he saw that you were trapped under one of the plane wings.

“y-y/n,” nobody could stop him as he fell to his knees by your head, the only visible part of your body.

you didn’t even know what to say as the love of your life came into view.

you wanted to say everything — so much — but your body was on fire.

if chris thought he had it bad, then you were ten times worse.

not only were your legs pinned, but also your ribs and your left arm. the only thing that hadn’t been trapped was your right arm, which was completely numb, and your head.

you were still conscious, but not by much.

you could feel it.

the sensation everyone always talked about. the tingling in your brain. the white light behind your eyes.

you were close.

“c-chris,” so help you god, you were not gonna leave this earth without speaking to him one last time. you had said your goodbyes to everybody else. as soon as they realized that they couldn’t get the metal off of you — that they weren’t strong enough, and that help wasn’t coming — you had decided to make peace with your remaining breath.

but not with chris. with chris, you didn’t want peace. you wanted love and the happiness of seeing his eyes one last time.

“y/n...” the strangled sob that left his lips wasn’t human. it was gutural, animalistic. chris was crying out for you, he was in pain. “no!”

“i don’t...have much time,” you sputtered out pathetically, blood spilling out of your mouth. “i-i’m dying.”

the revelation was clear to see, but chris still refused to accept it.

“no!” he repeated the word once again. “no, you’re not dying! y/n, you can’t die!”

“c-chris please,” black spots began to cloud your vision. but chris didn’t give up.

“what are you all just standing there for?!” he glared angrily at his friends. “help me! help me get this shit off of her!”

everyone stared at chris with a gutted look in their eyes. they turned away as he tried to lift the wing, as he tried to accomplish what they already failed at hours ago.

“mate, we tried...” hemsworth sniffed. “it’s not coming up.”

“no!” chris turned to him with such fury, such denial that it actually made hemsworth stumble back. “no, you don’t get to decide that! you don’t get to just stand there while she’s dying!”

“we didn’t!” rdj quickly stepped in. “we tried to help.”

“well then try again!” chris snapped again, pushing against the metal. scarlet sobbed as it stayed in the same place.

“t-they know it w-won’t help,” your sad voice whispered out, causing chris to pause. “t-they know i-i’m a goner anyways.”

“don’t say that,” chris sobbed as he dropped to your side again, hands reaching out to stoke your numb cheek. “don’t say that you’re dying. you’re gonna be fine...you’re gonna be f-fine.”

you could tell that even he didn’t believe it. the damage was too extensive. there was no way you were getting out of there alive.

“t-tell my family that i l-love them,” you mumbled, coughing up blood. “and sebastian a-and tom and—”

“don’t,” chris cut you off. “don’t do this.”

he wore the expression of a man being burned alive. he was in pure agony, pain clawing at every inch of him. consuming him faster than it was taking you.

“r-remember that,” you ignored him, the ringing in your ears getting louder. “remember that i love...you.”

there it was.

chris finally broke upon hearing these words. so painful for you to spit out, but yet they were important enough to waste your last breaths on. he was important enough.

“i love you too,” chris broke down, sobs racking his body as he held your hand. “i love you, so much. more than you’ll ever know. i love you for everything that you are. you’re the love of my life. i can’t live w-without you baby.”

“y-you don’t have to...s-say it back...” you gave him a pained smile. “just because i-i’m dying...i know you love h-her now. s-she’s your f-future. i-i’m just sorry we never h-had a chance,” your eyes began to flutter.

“no, no, no, no!” chris whimpered. “it was never her, baby. i don’t love her. it was always you. you’re my future. p-please y/n, you’re the mother of my kids. you’re my wife. it was always gonna be you, no matter what,” he shook his head. “always and forever, we’re meant to be.”

“m-meant to be,” you stuttered out, a ghost of a smile on your face. if you had to die again, you’d happily go out with those words being the last thing you ever heard.

chris bawled as he watched the light finally leave your eyes and your body slump. you almost looked peaceful, as if you were smiling in your sleep, but he knew better.

the love of his life was gone.

“chris? chris? look at me!” robert grabbed chris by the shoulders as he started hyperventilating, pounding at the soil with his fists. “look at me, buddy!”

“she’s gone,” chris cried as robert held him in his arms, “s-she,”

his eyes began to flutter close as he struggled to get the words out. suddenly, it became harder to breathe. black spots clouded his visions and chris’ body began shutting down with every breath, unable to cope with your death.

“what’s happening?!” anthony yelled as chris painfully slumped over, his body going limp in robert’s arms.

shakily, the older man held two fingers to his neck and prayed that he wasn’t gone, too. he prayed that the universe didn’t take chris and you, all in one day.

but they knew.

they knew the minute he pulled his hand back, dropping his head lowly in defeat. they knew before he even opened his mouth. they knew as he pulled away, resting chris’ body gently next to yours.

“he’s gone.”

[slut4supersoldiers]

Happy And Sad

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Bucky Barnes

Summary: A world where Thanos has been defeated and everyone is still alive. Things are normal. Steve and Bucky are still pining over each other. But maybe Tony’s party might bring them a little closer to admitting their feelings.

OR

Happiness is fleeting and so is sadness. And bucky is aware of that. But for once he just wants to be happy. Even without the promise of permanency.

Based on Kacey Musgraves: Happy and Sad.

Warning: If you don’t ship Stucky then don’t read this! Also: Alcohol consumption, self doubt slight mention of ptsd and nightmares, maybe a bard word? major pining.

Rating: F for fluff, A for (slight angst)

A/n: i think this is my second time posting this. The first time it didn’t do so well but I had a surge of confidence so I reposted. Please be kind and please leave some feedback. It means a lot x

Tony has thrown yet another party. A ball room dolled up with expensive decorations, lights, chandeliers and happy faces. Pristine marble floors and a fountain with crystal clear water (or is that champagne?) right in the centre of the room. Guests; superheroes, agents, family and friends all dressed to the nines, black tie of course. And Bucky is standing in the corner of the room.

A forlorn expression; a thousand yard stare. He is fidgeting nervously. Left hand covered completely (in spite of the disapproving look from Shuri). His long hair is conditioned and tied in a low man bun, although stubborn strands still fall on his face. He is nursing a glass of whiskey. Nothing gets him drunk because of the damning super soldier serum but he loves the burn from the amber liquid. Imagines himself getting inebriated enough, just enough to forget the pain that the horrid of his past inflicts upon him mercilessly. He deserves it, he thinks. Before he could let the thoughts consume him he consumes the alcohol.

He can hear music being played but he doesn’t recognise it. Doesn’t recognise anyone. Yes he knows everyone but doesn’t really know anyone. Do they know him? No one does.

He is about to take another sip willing himself to push the pain away but his breath gets caught in his throat.

It's not you, it's the glow of the party

The way that you've got me lit up inside

It's the song that they're playin', the words that you're sayin'

It's never felt so right

There in the throng of the guests he sees a familiar face. A very familiar face. A very familiar person. His person. His Stevie.

Dressed in a velvet blue tuxedo, blonde hair gelled back, a very light scattering of stubble adoring his sharp jaw and high cheekbones. Bucky thinks he rather likes the look. And by the look of it so do all the women who suddenly gravitate towards America’s golden boy. Bucky doesn’t blame them. Instead he breathes a sigh and chugs the drink along with the harsh truth, that it’s not his Steve anymore. Probably never was…

Sulking, he is about to turn and walk towards the guest room (that Tony hesitantly offered him for the night) when he hears someone call his name and that familiar feeling of his world coming to a halt takes over him. Steve.

And I'm the kind of person who starts getting kinda nervous

When I'm having the time of my life

“Buck, where are you going? Join us?” Almost hesitantly Steve asks.

And Bucky turns around. The soft voice leaving Steve’s lips calling out to him like a siren to a sailor sailing through troubled waters. Calming and alluring.

He looks at Steve, really looks at him. He is still that scrawny little punk from Brooklyn, he thinks. Charming, stubborn and god damn beautiful.

“Buck?” Steve raises his eyebrows in concern.

Is there a word for the way that I'm feeling tonight?

Happy and sad at the same time

You got me smiling with tears in my eyes

And Bucky gives in.

Joins the former captain and mingles with everyone. Or as any bystander would’ve said, spends the night making heart eyes at the Adonis like blond man who refused to leave the former Sergeant’s side the whole night.

As the clock nears midnight, the party begins to lose its swing. New agents, and other guests having already left it’s only the avengers and their new comrades relaxing and talking, appreciating being reunited. No one addresses the lost time, the tragedies; the nightmares that will come later are reminder enough so everyone enjoys the company instead.

So does Bucky. With Sam by his side and Nat, his Natalia, sitting beside him, chugging a bottle of vodka like water, Bucky feels comfortable but he is still on the edge. Almost as if he knows that this will be taken away from him someday. That’s his life. Nothing good ever lasts. Nothing good is ever permanent. A forlorn look. A thousand yard stare.

I never felt so high

No, I've never been this far off of the ground

And they say everything that goes up must come down

But I don't wanna come down

“You’re doing it again.” Nat says.

“What?” Bucky asks.

“That lost puppy look. We won Barnes. It’s time to celebrate. We can sulk later.” She raises a well groomed eyebrow at her.

Natalia, always the snarky one. He chuckles and shakes his head as she offers him the bottle.

“10 o clock, sarge! Lover boy is closing in on us.” Nat nudges Bucky. And he is suddenly alert. Doesn’t notice Sam and Nat slowly sneaking away. Doesn’t notice the red covering his cheeks. Doesn’t notice the way Steve’s eyes take him in; adoration, love, lust, longing.

“What is this? The famous James Buchanan Barnes, not dancing?” Steve jokes. Tries to make the situation lighter.

And Bucky feels lighter. Like he is floating on air but that might have to do with how close Steve is standing to him. Shoulders touching, hands brushing against each other.

“You got the wrong guy!” Bucky shrugs half heartedly.

“No. I’ve got the right one.” Steve looks at Bucky. Cerulean eyes stare into each other. Lips parted, slightly. Awaiting.

So is there a way to stop all this thinkin', just keep on drinkin'?

'Cause I don't wanna wake up

When they're turnin' the lights on and it turns out the joke's on me

'Cause it feels so right

Suddenly Steve pulls Bucky away from the wall and to the dance floor. The floor now almost vacant.

“What’re ya doin?” Bucky scratches the back of his neck.

“What? Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how you taught me dancing back in the days?” Steve suggests the red of his cheeks matches Bucky’s.

“You were smaller then. Now you’re...big.” Bucky averts his gaze. Steve bends down a little, a tiny, teasing smile plays on his lips. Cautiously, he grabs Bucky’s hand. The metal hand. Brings it to his lips. A soft, shy brush of lips against the gloved surface. Puts it on his shoulder. A weapon, a burden, an appendage, an embarrassment now an object of admiration. Bucky feels his heart beat getting erratic but the gradual mingling of Steve's heart beats with his own makes it sound like a symphony. Mingles with the music softly playing in the background. Bucky notices how his hand fits right on Steve’s shoulder. Steve places a hand on Bucky’s waist. Pulls him closer, just a little bit. And then a little bit more.

“I am still that kid.“ Steve smiles. Eyes filled with love for the broken but brave man before him. His friend. His love. His Bucky.

“Punk.” Bucky whispers.

“Jerk.” Steve chuckles.

I don't mind at all, no, I'm used to fallin'

I'm comfortable when the sky is gray

But when everything is perfect, I start hidin'

'Cause I know that rain is comin' my way, my way

Bucky is still a little sad. Nothing is permanent. But for now he is happy because for now he is with his Stevie. And he is fine with that.

'Cause I'm happy and sad at the same time

You got me smilin' with tears in my eyes

I never felt so high

No, I've never been this far off of the ground

And they say everything that goes up, goes up must come down

And I don't wanna come down

No, I don't wanna come down

Tag:

@mydarlingharry

[queenaryastark]

Elia Martell: Quote Masterlist

In preparation for Elia Week 2021, I compiled all of the times Elia is mentioned in ASOIAF and TWOIAF. It’s not surprising, but it is very troubling how little we get of her actual personality and characterization. There’s clearly an overemphasis on her rape and murder, the quest for vengeance on her brother’s side, and how she compared to other women. We get one flashback/vision of her after Aegon’s birth discussion song and prophecy with Rhaegar which is the only time she actually speaks. Oberyn’s courtship tour story gives hints at her characterization, while Barristan, who wouldn’t have known her well, gives us details like: good, delicate health, kind, clever, and sweet wit. It’s pretty vague, but unfortunately that’s all GRRM gave us. 

Anyway, the quotes are under the cut:

Her Murder

Princess Elia of Dorne pleading for mercy as Rhaegar's heir was ripped from her breast and murdered before her eyes. -- Dany I, AGOT ----- The Dornishmen burn to avenge Elia and her children.  -- Dany I, AGOT ----- Some said it had been Gregor who'd dashed the skull of the infant prince Aegon Targaryen against a wall, and whispered that afterward he had raped the mother, the Dornish princess Elia, before putting her to the sword. -- Eddard VII, AGOT ----- Ned remembered the moment when all the smiles died, when Prince Rhaegar Targaryen urged his horse past his own wife, the Dornish princess Elia Martell, to lay the queen of beauty's laurel in Lyanna's lap. -- Eddard XV, AGOT ----- In Dorne, the Martells still brood on the murder of Princess Elia and her babes. -- Eddard XV, AGOT ------ The prince is a sentimental man, and he still mourns his sister Elia and her sweet babe. "My father once told me that a lord never lets sentiment get in the way of ambition . . . and it happens we have an empty seat on the small council, now that Lord Janos has taken the black." "A council seat is not to be despised," Varys admitted, "yet will it be enough to make a proud man forget his sister's murder?" "Why forget?" Tyrion smiled. "I've promised to deliver his sister's killers, alive or dead, as he prefers. After the war is done, to be sure." Varys gave him a shrewd look. "My little birds tell me that Princess Elia cried a . . . certain name . . . when they came for her." -- Tyrion IV, AGOT ----- "Prince Doran comes at my son's invitation," Lord Tywin said calmly, "not only to join in our celebration, but to claim his seat on this council, and the justice Robert denied him for the murder of his sister Elia and her children." -- Tyrion III, ASOS ---- I did not come for some mummer's show of an inquiry. I came for justice for Elia and her children, and I will have it. Starting with this lummox Gregor Clegane . . . but not, I think, ending there. Before he dies, the Enormity That Rides will tell me whence came his orders, please assure your lord father of that. -- Tyrion V, ASOS -------- "It is justice. It was Ser Amory who brought me the girl's body, if you must know. He found her hiding under her father's bed, as if she believed Rhaegar could still protect her. Princess Elia and the babe were in the nursery a floor below." -- Tyrion VI, ASOS ----- "I grant you, it was done too brutally. Elia need not have been harmed at all, that was sheer folly. By herself she was nothing." "Then why did the Mountain kill her?" "Because I did not tell him to spare her. I doubt I mentioned her at all. I had more pressing concerns. Ned Stark's van was rushing south from the Trident, and I feared it might come to swords between us. And it was in Aerys to murder Jaime, with no more cause than spite. That was the thing I feared most. That, and what Jaime himself might do." He closed a fist. "Nor did I yet grasp what I had in Gregor Clegane, only that he was huge and terrible in battle. The rape . . . even you will not accuse me of giving that command, I would hope. Ser Amory was almost as bestial with Rhaenys. I asked him afterward why it had required half a hundred thrusts to kill a girl of . . . two? Three? He said she'd kicked him and would not stop screaming. If Lorch had half the wits the gods gave a turnip, he would have calmed her with a few sweet words and used a soft silk pillow." His mouth twisted in distaste. "The blood was in him." -- Tyrion VI, ASOS ------ Justice is in short supply this side of the mountains. There has been none for Elia, Aegon, or Rhaenys. Why should there be any for you? Perhaps Joffrey's real killer was eaten by a bear. That seems to happen quite often in King's Landing. -- Tyrion IX, ASOS -------- "I am not lying. Ser Amory dragged Princess Rhaenys out from under her father's bed and stabbed her to death. He had some men-at-arms with him, but I do not know their names." He leaned forward. "It was Ser Gregor Clegane who smashed Prince Aegon's head against a wall and raped your sister Elia with his blood and brains still on his hands." -- Tyrion IX, ASOS --------- "The gout I cannot help," she said, "but my father had no use for grief. Vengeance was more to his taste. Is it true that Gregor Clegane admitted slaying Elia and her children?" "He roared out his guilt for all the court to hear," the prince admitted. "Lord Tywin has promised us his head." -- Hotah, AFFC --------- "My sister Elia had a little girl as well. Her name was Rhaenys. She was a princess too." The prince sighed. "Those who would plunge a knife into Princess Myrcella do not bear her any malice, no more than Ser Amory Lorch did when he killed Rhaenys, if indeed he did. They seek only to force my hand. For if Myrcella should be slain in Dorne whilst under my protection, who would believe my denials?" -- Arys, AFFC --------

Oberyn VS Gregor Clegane

The Dornishman slid sideways. "I am Oberyn Martell, a prince of Dorne," he said, as the Mountain turned to keep him in sight. "Princess Elia was my sister." "Who?" asked Gregor Clegane. Oberyn's long spear jabbed, but Ser Gregor took the point on his shield, shoved it aside, and bulled back at the prince, his great sword flashing. The Dornishman spun away untouched. The spear darted forward. Clegane slashed at it, Martell snapped it back, then thrust again. Metal screamed on metal as the spearhead slid off the Mountain's chest, slicing through the surcoat and leaving a long bright scratch on the steel beneath. "Elia Martell, Princess of Dorne," the Red Viper hissed. "You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children." Ser Gregor grunted. He made a ponderous charge to hack at the Dornishman's head. Prince Oberyn avoided him easily. "You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children." ------- But the Red Viper of Dorne was back on his feet, his long spear in hand. "Elia," he called at Ser Gregor. "You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children. Now say her name." The Mountain whirled. Helm, shield, sword, surcoat; he was spattered with gore from head to heels. "You talk too much," he grumbled. "You make my head hurt." "I will hear you say it. She was Elia of Dorne." The Mountain snorted contemptuously, and came on . . . and in that moment, the sun broke through the low clouds that had hidden the sky since dawn. -------- Prince Oberyn tilted his dinted metal shield. A shaft of sunlight blazed blindingly off polished gold and copper, into the narrow slit of his foe's helm. Clegane lifted his own shield against the glare. Prince Oberyn's spear flashed like lightning and found the gap in the heavy plate, the joint under the arm. The point punched through mail and boiled leather. Gregor gave a choked grunt as the Dornishman twisted his spear and yanked it free."Elia. Say it! Elia of Dorne!" He was circling, spear poised for another thrust. "Say it!" Tyrion had his own prayer. Fall down and die, was how it went. Damn you, fall down and die! The blood trickling from the Mountain's armpit was his own now, and he must be bleeding even more heavily inside the breastplate. When he tried to take a step, one knee buckled. Tyrion thought he was going down. Prince Oberyn had circled behind him. "ELIA OF DORNE!" he shouted. Ser Gregor started to turn, but too slow and too late. The spearhead went through the back of the knee this time, through the layers of chain and leather between the plates on thigh and calf. The Mountain reeled, swayed, then collapsed face first on the ground. His huge sword went flying from his hand. Slowly, ponderously, he rolled onto his back. The Dornishman flung away his ruined shield, grasped the spear in both hands, and sauntered away. Behind him the Mountain let out a groan, and pushed himself onto an elbow. Oberyn whirled cat-quick, and ran at his fallen foe. "EEEEELLLLLLIIIIIAAAAA!" he screamed, as he drove the spear down with the whole weight of his body behind it. The crack of the ashwood shaft snapping was almost as sweet a sound as Cersei's wail of fury, and for an instant Prince Oberyn had wings. The snake has vaulted over the Mountain. Four feet of broken spear jutted from Clegane's belly as Prince Oberyn rolled, rose, and dusted himself off. He tossed aside the splintered spear and claimed his foe's greatsword. "If you die before you say her name, ser, I will hunt you through all seven hells," he promised. ------ Clegane's hand shot up and grabbed the Dornishman behind the knee. The Red Viper brought down the greatsword in a wild slash, but he was off-balance, and the edge did no more than put another dent in the Mountain's vambrace. Then the sword was forgotten as Gregor's hand tightened and twisted, yanking the Dornishman down on top of him. They wrestled in the dust and blood, the broken spear wobbling back and forth. Tyrion saw with horror that the Mountain had wrapped one huge arm around the prince, drawing him tight against his chest, like a lover. "Elia of Dorne," they all heard Ser Gregor say, when they were close enough to kiss. His deep voice boomed within the helm. "I killed her screaming whelp." He thrust his free hand into Oberyn's unprotected face, pushing steel fingers into his eyes. "Then I raped her." Clegane slammed his fist into the Dornishman's mouth, making splinters of his teeth. "Then I smashed her fucking head in. Like this." As he drew back his huge fist, the blood on his gauntlet seemed to smoke in the cold dawn air. There was a sickening crunch. Ellaria Sand wailed in terror, and Tyrion's breakfast came boiling back up. He found himself on his knees retching bacon and sausage and applecakes, and that double helping of fried eggs cooked up with onions and fiery Dornish peppers.-- Tyrion, X

General

Viserys, was her first thought the next time she paused, but a second glance told her otherwise. The man had her brother's hair, but he was taller, and his eyes were a dark indigo rather than lilac. "Aegon," he said to a woman nursing a newborn babe in a great wooden bed. "What better name for a king?"

"Will you make a song for him?" the woman asked.

"He has a song," the man replied. "He is the prince that was promised, and his is the song of ice and fire." He looked up when he said it and his eyes met Dany's, and it seemed as if he saw her standing there beyond the door. "There must be one more," he said, though whether he was speaking to her or the woman in the bed she could not say. "The dragon has three heads." He went to the window seat, picked up a harp, and ran his fingers lightly over its silvery strings. Sweet sadness filled the room as man and wife and babe faded like the morning mist, only the music lingering behind to speed her on her way. -- Daenerys IV, ACOK

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She nodded. "There was a woman in a bed with a babe at her breast. My brother said the babe was the prince that was promised and told her to name him Aegon."

"Prince Aegon was Rhaegar's heir by Elia of Dorne," Ser Jorah said. "But if he was this prince that was promised, the promise was broken along with his skull when the Lannisters dashed his head against a wall." -- Daenerys V, ACOK

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No doubt he was waiting for Prince Viserys to mature, or perhaps for Rhaegar's wife to die in childbed. Elia of Dorne was never the healthiest of women. -- Jaime II, ASOS

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 The king reminded Lewyn Martell gracelessly that he held Elia and sent him to take command of the ten thousand Dornishmen coming up the kingsroad. -- Jaime V, ASOS

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When the word reached court, Aerys packed the queen off to Dragonstone with Prince Viserys. Princess Elia would have gone as well, but he forbade it. Somehow he had gotten it in his head that Prince Lewyn must have betrayed Rhaegar on the Trident, but he thought he could keep Dorne loyal so long as he kept Elia and Aegon by his side. -- Jaime V, ASOS

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"It was when I visited Casterly Rock with my mother, her consort, and my sister Elia. I was, oh, fourteen, fifteen, thereabouts, Elia a year older. Your brother and sister were eight or nine, as I recall, and you had just been born." -- Tyrion V, ASOS

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The cell they gave me had a featherbed to sleep in and Myrish carpets on the floor, but it was dark and windowless, much like a dungeon when you come down to it, as I told Elia at the time. Your skies were too grey, your wines too sweet, your women too chaste, your food too bland . . . and you yourself were the greatest disappointment of all." -- Tyrion V, ASOS

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"Cersei promised Elia to show you to us. The day before we were to sail, whilst my mother and your father were closeted together, she and Jaime took us down to your nursery. Your wet nurse tried to send us off, but your sister was having none of that. 'He's mine,' she said, 'and you're just a milk cow, you can't tell me what to do. Be quiet or I'll have my father cut your tongue out. A cow doesn't need a tongue, only udders.'"

"Her Grace learned charm at an early age," said Tyrion, amused by the notion of his sister claiming him as hers. "She's never been in any rush to claim me since, the gods know.

"Cersei even undid your swaddling clothes to give us a better look," the Dornish prince continued. "You did have one evil eye, and some black fuzz on your scalp. Perhaps your head was larger than most . . . but there was no tail, no beard, neither teeth nor claws, and nothing between your legs but a tiny pink cock. After all the wonderful whispers, Lord Tywin's Doom turned out to be just a hideous red infant with stunted legs. Elia even made the noise that young girls make at the sight of infants, I'm sure you've heard it. The same noise they make over cute kittens and playful puppies. I believe she wanted to nurse you herself, ugly as you were. When I commented that you seemed a poor sort of monster, your sister said, 'He killed my mother,' and twisted your little cock so hard I thought she was like to pull it off. You shrieked, but it was only when your brother Jaime said, 'Leave him be, you're hurting him,' that Cersei let go of you. 'It doesn't matter,' she told us. 'Everyone says he's like to die soon. He shouldn't even have lived this long.'" -- Tyrion V, ASOS

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"As children Elia and I were inseparable, much like your own brother and sister." -- Tyrion V, ASOS

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"But that was the tourney when he crowned Lyanna Stark as queen of love and beauty!" said Dany. "Princess Elia was there, his wife, and yet my brother gave the crown to the Stark girl, and later stole her away from her betrothed. How could he do that? Did the Dornish woman treat him so ill?"

"It is not for such as me to say what might have been in your brother's heart, Your Grace. The Princess Elia was a good and gracious lady, though her health was ever delicate."

"It is not for such as me to say what might have been in your brother's heart, Your Grace. The Princess Elia was a good and gracious lady, though her health was ever delicate."

Dany pulled the lion pelt tighter about her shoulders. "Viserys said once that it was my fault, for being born too late." She had denied it hotly, she remembered, going so far as to tell Viserys that it was his fault for not being born a girl. He beat her cruelly for that insolence. "If I had been born more timely, he said, Rhaegar would have married me instead of Elia, and it would all have come out different. If Rhaegar had been happy in his wife, he would not have needed the Stark girl." -- Daenerys, ASOS

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"Aye. I will." Ulmer, stooped and grey-bearded and loose of skin and limb, stepped to the mark and pulled an arrow from the quiver at his waist. In his youth he had been an outlaw, a member of the infamous Kingswood Brotherhood. He claimed he'd once put an arrow through the hand of the White Bull of the Kingsguard to steal a kiss from the lips of a Dornish princess. He had stolen her jewels too, and a chest of golden dragons, but it was the kiss he liked to boast of in his cups. -- Samwell II, ASOS

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"Do you recall the tale I told you of our first meeting, Imp?" Prince Oberyn asked, as the Bastard of Godsgrace knelt before him to fasten his greaves. "It was not for your tail alone that my sister and I came to Casterly Rock. We were on a quest of sorts. A quest that took us to Starfall, the Arbor, Oldtown, the Shield Islands, Crakehall, and finally Casterly Rock . . . but our true destination was marriage. Doran was betrothed to Lady Mellario of Norvos, so he had been left behind as castellan of Sunspear. My sister and I were yet unpromised.

"Elia found it all exciting. She was of that age, and her delicate health had never permitted her much travel. I preferred to amuse myself by mocking my sister's suitors. There was Little Lord Lazyeye, Squire Squishlips, one I named the Whale That Walks, that sort of thing. The only one who was even halfway presentable was young Baelor Hightower. A pretty lad, and my sister was half in love with him until he had the misfortune to fart once in our presence. I promptly named him Baelor Breakwind, and after that Elia couldn't look at him without laughing. I was a monstrous young fellow, someone should have sliced out my vile tongue."

Yes, Tyrion agreed silently. Baelor Hightower was no longer young, but he remained Lord Leyton's heir; wealthy, handsome, and a knight of splendid repute. Baelor Brightsmile, they called him now. Had Elia wed him in place of Rhaegar Targaryen, she might be in Oldtown with her children growing tall around her. He wondered how many lives had been snuffed out by that fart.

"Lannisport was the end of our voyage," Prince Oberyn went on, as Ser Arron Qorgyle helped him into a padded leather tunic and began lacing it up the back. "Were you aware that our mothers knew each other of old?"

"They had been at court together as girls, I seem to recall. Companions to Princess Rhaella?"

"Just so. It was my belief that the mothers had cooked up this plot between them. Squire Squishlips and his ilk and the various pimply young maidens who'd been paraded before me were the almonds before the feast, meant only to whet our appetites. The main course was to be served at Casterly Rock."

"Cersei and Jaime."

"Such a clever dwarf. Elia and I were older, to be sure. Your brother and sister could not have been more than eight or nine. Still, a difference of five or six years is little enough. And there was an empty cabin on our ship, a very nice cabin, such as might be kept for a person of high birth. As if it were intended that we take someone back to Sunspear. A young page, perhaps. Or a companion for Elia. Your lady mother meant to betroth Jaime to my sister, or Cersei to me. Perhaps both."

"Perhaps," said Tyrion, "but my father—"

"—ruled the Seven Kingdoms, but was ruled at home by his lady wife, or so my mother always said." Prince Oberyn raised his arms, so Lord Dagos Manwoody and the Bastard of Godsgrace could slip a chainmail byrnie down over his head. "At Oldtown we learned of your mother's death, and the monstrous child she had borne. We might have turned back there, but my mother chose to sail on. I told you of the welcome we found at Casterly Rock.

"What I did not tell you was that my mother waited as long as was decent, and then broached your father about our purpose. Years later, on her deathbed, she told me that Lord Tywin had refused us brusquely. His daughter was meant for Prince Rhaegar, he informed her. And when she asked for Jaime, to espouse Elia, he offered her you instead."

"Which offer she took for an outrage."

"It was. Even you can see that, surely?"

"Oh, surely." It all goes back and back, Tyrion thought, to our mothers and fathers and theirs before them. We are puppets dancing on the strings of those who came before us, and one day our own children will take up our strings and dance on in our steads. "Well, Prince Rhaegar married Elia of Dorne, not Cersei Lannister of Casterly Rock. So it would seem your mother won that tilt."

"She thought so," Prince Oberyn agreed, "but your father is not a man to forget such slights. He taught that lesson to Lord and Lady Tarbeck once, and to the Reynes of Castamere. And at King's Landing, he taught it to my sister. My helm, Dagos." Manwoody handed it to him; a high golden helm with a copper disk mounted on the brow, the sun of Dorne. The visor had been removed, Tyrion saw. "Elia and her children have waited long for justice." Prince Oberyn pulled on soft red leather gloves, and took up his spear again. "But this day they shall have it." -- Tyrion X, ASOS

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"Was she a fair maid?"

"She was," said Meera, hopping over a stone, "but there were others fairer still. One was the wife of the dragon prince, who'd brought a dozen lady companions to attend her. The knights all begged them for favors to tie about their lances." -- Bran II, ASOS

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"I was the oldest," the prince said, "and yet I am the last. After Mors and Olyvar died in their cradles, I gave up hope of brothers. I was nine when Elia came, a squire in service at Salt Shore. When the raven arrived with word that my mother had been brought to bed a month too soon, I was old enough to understand that meant the child would not live. Even when Lord Gargalen told me that I had a sister, I assured him that she must shortly die. Yet she lived, by the Mother's mercy. And a year later Oberyn arrived, squalling and kicking. I was a man grown when they were playing in these pools. Yet here I sit, and they are gone." -- Hotah I, AFFC

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"Tyene. Obara is too loud. Tyene is so sweet and gentle that no man will suspect her. Obara would make Oldtown our father's funeral pyre, but I am not so greedy. Four lives will suffice for me. Lord Tywin's golden twins, as payment for Elia's children. The old lion, for Elia herself. And last of all the little king, for my father -- Hotah I, AFFC

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"He went beyond anything I asked of him. 'Take the measure of this boy king and his council, and make note of their strengths and weaknesses,' I told him, on the terrace. We were eating oranges. 'Find us friends, if there are any to be found. Learn what you can of Elia's end, but see that you do not provoke Lord Tywin unduly,' those were my words to him. Oberyn laughed, and said, 'When have I provoked any man . . . unduly? You would do better to warn the Lannisters against provoking me.' He wanted justice for Elia, but he would not wait—"

"He waited ten-and-seven years," the Lady Nym broke in. "Were it you they'd killed, my father would have led his banners north before your corpse was cold. Were it you, the spears would be falling thick as rain upon the marches now." -- Hotah I, AFFC

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"And what is it I want, ser?"

"The Sand Snakes freed. Vengeance for Oberyn and Elia. Do I know the song? You want a little taste of lion blood."

That, and my birthright. I want Sunspear, and my father's seat. I want Dorne. "I want justice." -- Arianne I, AFFC

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"With me?" That is so like him. "For Lord Tywin and the Lannisters you always had the forbearance of Baelor the Blessed, but for your own blood, none."

"You mistake patience for forbearance. I have worked at the downfall of Tywin Lannister since the day they told me of Elia and her children. It was my hope to strip him of all that he held most dear before I killed him, but it would seem his dwarf son has robbed me of that pleasure. I take some small solace in knowing that he died a cruel death at the hands of the monster that he himself begot. Be that as it may. Lord Tywin is howling down in hell . . . where thousands more will soon be joining him, if your folly turns to war." Her father grimaced, as if the very word were painful to him. "Is that what you want?"

The princess refused to be cowed. "I want my cousins freed. I want my uncle avenged. I want my rights." -- Arianne II, AFFC

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Black cats brought ill luck, as Rhaegar's little girl had discovered in this very castle. She would have been my daughter, if the Mad King had not played his cruel jape on Father. It had to have been the madness that led Aerys to refuse Lord Tywin's daughter and take his son instead, whilst marrying his own son to a feeble Dornish princess with black eyes and a flat chest. -- Cersei V, AFFC

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"Her duty." The word felt cold upon her tongue. "You saw my brother Rhaegar wed. Tell me, did he wed for love or duty?"

The old knight hesitated. "Princess Elia was a good woman, Your Grace. She was kind and clever, with a gentle heart and a sweet wit. I know the prince was very fond of her."

Fond, thought Dany. The word spoke volumes. I could become fond of Hizdahr zo Loraq, in time. Perhaps. -- Daenerys IV, ADWD

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The lad flushed. "That was not me. I told you. That was some tanner's son from Pisswater Bend whose mother died birthing him. His father sold him to Lord Varys for a jug of Arbor gold. He had other sons but had never tasted Arbor gold. Varys gave the Pisswater boy to my lady mother and carried me away." -- Tyrion VI, ADWD

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Seventeen years had come and gone since the Battle of the Bells, yet the sound of bells ringing still tied a knot in his guts. Others might claim that the realm was lost when Prince Rhaegar fell to Robert's warhammer on the Trident, but the Battle of the Trident would never have been fought if the griffin had only slain the stag there in Stoney Sept. The bells tolled for all of us that day. For Aerys and his queen, for Elia of Dorne and her little daughter, for every true man and honest woman in the Seven Kingdoms. And for my silver prince.

"The plan was to reveal Prince Aegon only when we reached Queen Daenerys," Lemore was saying. -- JonCon I, ADWD

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That time was done, though. "No man could have asked for a worthier son," Griff said, "but the lad is not of my blood, and his name is not Griff. My lords, I give you Aegon Targaryen, firstborn son of Rhaegar, Prince of Dragonstone, by Princess Elia of Dorne … soon, with your help, to be Aegon, the Sixth of His Name, King of Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms."-- JonCon I, ADWD

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Prince Doran frowned. "That is so, Ser Balon, but the Lady Nym is right. If ever a man deserved to die screaming, it was Gregor Clegane. He butchered my good sister, smashed her babe's head against a wall. I only pray that now he is burning in some hell, and that Elia and her children are at peace. This is the justice that Dorne has hungered for. I am glad that I lived long enough to taste it. At long last the Lannisters have proved the truth of their boast and paid this old blood debt." -- Hotah, ADWD

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"A start?" said Ellaria Sand, incredulous. "Gods forbid. I would it were a finish. Tywin Lannister is dead. So are Robert Baratheon, Amory Lorch, and now Gregor Clegane, all those who had a hand in murdering Elia and her children. Even Joffrey, who was not yet born when Elia died. I saw the boy perish with mine own eyes, clawing at his throat as he tried to draw a breath. Who else is there to kill? Do Myrcella and Tommen need to die so the shades of Rhaenys and Aegon can be at rest? Where does it end?"-- Hotah, ADWD

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"Oberyn wanted vengeance for Elia. Now the three of you want vengeance for him. I have four daughters, I remind you. Your sisters. My Elia is fourteen, almost a woman. Obella is twelve, on the brink of maidenhood. They worship you, as Dorea and Loreza worship them. If you should die, must El and Obella seek vengeance for you, then Dorea and Loree for them? Is that how it goes, round and round forever? I ask again, where does it end?" Ellaria Sand laid her hand on the Mountain's head. "I saw your father die. Here is his killer. Can I take a skull to bed with me, to give me comfort in the night? Will it make me laugh, write me songs, care for me when I am old and sick?"-- Hotah, ADWD

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It was his failures that haunted him at night, though. Jaehaerys, Aerys, Robert. Three dead kings. Rhaegar, who would have been a finer king than any of them. Princess Elia and the children. Aegon just a babe, Rhaenys with her kitten. Dead, every one, yet he still lived, who had sworn to protect them. And now Daenerys, his bright shining child queen. She is not dead. I will not believe it. -- Barristan II, ADWD

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A bride for our bright prince. Jon Connington remembered Prince Rhaegar's wedding all too well. Elia was never worthy of him. She was frail and sickly from the first, and childbirth only left her weaker. After the birth of Princess Rhaenys, her mother had been bedridden for half a year, and Prince Aegon's birth had almost been the death of her. She would bear no more children, the maesters told Prince Rhaegar afterward. -- JonCon II, ADWD

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Griff had heard enough of the captain-general's cowardice. "We will not be alone. Dorne will join us, must join us. Prince Aegon is Elia's son as well as Rhaegar's."-- JonCon II, ADWD

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Rhaegar had chosen Lyanna Stark of Winterfell. Barristan Selmy would have made a different choice. Not the queen, who was not present. Nor Elia of Dorne, though she was good and gentle; had she been chosen, much war and woe might have been avoided. His choice would have been a young maiden not long at court, one of Elia's companions … though compared to Ashara Dayne, the Dornish princess was a kitchen drab. -- Barristan III, ADWD

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She will never wash the stain away, no matter how hard she scrubs. Ser Kevan remembered the girl she once had been, so full of life and mischief. And when she'd flowered, ahhhh … had there ever been a maid so sweet to look upon? If Aerys had agreed to marry her to Rhaegar, how many deaths might have been avoided? Cersei could have given the prince the sons he wanted, lions with purple eyes and silver manes … and with such a wife, Rhaegar might never have looked twice at Lyanna Stark. The northern girl had a wild beauty, as he recalled, though however bright a torch might burn it could never match the rising sun.

But it did no good to brood on lost battles and roads not taken. That was a vice of old done men. Rhaegar had wed Elia of Dorne, Lyanna Stark had died, Robert Baratheon had taken Cersei to bride, and here they were. And tonight his own road would take him to his niece's chambers and face-to-face with Cersei. -- Kevan, ADWD

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Fire and blood was what Jon Connington (if indeed it was him) was offering as well. Or was it? "He comes with sellswords, but no dragons," Prince Doran had told her, the night the raven came. "The Golden Company is the best and largest of the free companies, but ten thousand mercenaries cannot hope to win the Seven Kingdoms. Elia's son... I would weep for joy if some part of my sister had survived, but what proof do we have that this is Aegon?" His voice broke when he said that. "Where are the dragons?" he asked. "Where is Daenerys?" and Arianne knew that he was really saying, "Where is my son?" -- Arianne I, TWOW

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"Gregor Clegane ripped Aegon out of Elia's arms and smashed his head against a wall," Ser Daemon said. "If Lord Connington's prince has a crushed skull, I will believe that Aegon Targaryen has returned from the grave. Elsewise, no. This is some feigned boy, no more. A sellsword's ploy to win support." -- Arianne I, TWOW

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"I... it would give great joy to my father if Elia's son were still alive. He loved his sister well." -- Arianne I, TWOW

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So it was. "I was seven when Elia died. They say I held her daughter Rhaenys once, when I was too young to remember. Aegon will be a stranger to me, whether true or false." The princess paused. "We looked for Rhaegar's sister, not his son." Her father had confided in Ser Daemon when he chose him as his daughter's shield; with him at least she could speak freely. "I would sooner it were Quentyn who'd returned." -- Arianne I, TWOW

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Meanwhile, King Aerys was becoming ever more estranged from his own son and heir. Early in the year 279 AC, Rhaegar Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone, was formally betrothed to Princess Elia Martell, the delicate young sister of Doran Martell, Prince of Dorne. They were wed the following year, in a lavish ceremony at the Great Sept of Baelor in King's Landing, but Aerys II did not attend. He told the small council that he feared an attempt upon his life if he left the confines of the Red Keep, even with his Kingsguard to protect him. Nor would he allow his younger son, Viserys, to attend his brother's wedding.

When Prince Rhaegar and his new wife chose to take up residence on Dragonstone instead of the Red Keep, rumors flew thick and fast across the Seven Kingdoms. Some claimed that the crown prince was planning to depose his father and seize the Iron Throne for himself, whilst others said that King Aerys meant to disinherit Rhaegar and name Viserys heir in his place. Nor did the birth of King Aerys's first grandchild, a girl named Rhaenys, born on Dragonstone in 280 AC, do aught to reconcile father and son. When Prince Rhaegar returned to the Red Keep to present his daughter to his own mother and father, Queen Rhaella embraced the babe warmly, but King Aerys refused to touch or hold the child and complained that she "smells Dornish." -- TWOIAF

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Chief amongst the Mad King's supporters were three lords of his small council: Qarlton Chelsted, master of coin, Lucerys Velaryon, master of ships, and Symond Staunton, master of laws. The eunuch Varys, master of whisperers, and Wisdom Rossart, grand master of the Guild of Alchemists, also enjoyed the king's trust. Prince Rhaegar's support came from the younger men at court, including Lord Jon Connington, Ser Myles Mooton of Maidenpool, and Ser Richard Lonmouth. The Dornishmen who had come to court with the Princess Elia were in the prince's confidence as well, particularly Prince Lewyn Martell, Elia's uncle and a Sworn Brother of the Kingsguard. But the most formidable of all Rhaegar's friends and allies in King's Landing was surely Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning.-- TWOIAF

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And when the triumphant Prince of Dragonstone named Lyanna Stark, daughter of the Lord of Winterfell, the queen of love and beauty, placing a garland of blue roses in her lap with the tip of his lance, the lickspittle lords gathered around the king declared that further proof of his perfidy. Why would the prince have thus given insult to his own wife, the Princess Elia Martell of Dorne (who was present), unless it was to help him gain the Iron Throne? The crowning of the Stark girl, who was by all reports a wild and boyish young thing with none of the Princess Elia's delicate beauty, could only have been meant to win the allegiance of Winterfell to Prince Rhaegar's cause, Symond Staunton suggested to the king..-- TWOIAF

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As cold winds hammered the city, King Aerys II turned to his pyromancers, charging them to drive the winter off with their magics. Huge green fires burned along the walls of the Red Keep for a moon's turn. Prince Rhaegar was not in the city to observe them, however. Nor could he be found in Dragonstone with Princess Elia and their young son, Aegon. With the coming of the new year, the crown prince had taken to the road with half a dozen of his closest friends and confidants, on a journey that would ultimately lead him back to the riverlands. Not ten leagues from Harrenhal, Rhaegar fell upon Lyanna Stark of Winterfell, and carried her off, lighting a fire that would consume his house and kin and all those he loved—and half the realm besides..-- TWOIAF

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From Dorne, in defense of Princess Elia, ten thousand spears came over the Boneway and marched to King's Landing to bolster the host that Rhaegar was raising. Those who were there at court during this time have recounted that Aerys's behavior was erratic. He was untrusting of any save his Kingsguard—and then only imperfectly, for he kept Ser Jaime Lannister close at all hours to serve as a hostage against his father..-- TWOIAF

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Birds flew and couriers raced to bear word of the victory at the Ruby Ford. When the news reached the Red Keep, it was said that Aerys cursed the Dornish, certain that Lewyn had betrayed Rhaegar. He sent his pregnant queen, Rhaella, and his younger son and new heir, Viserys, away to Dragonstone, but Princess Elia was forced to remain in King's Landing with Rhaegar's children as a hostage against Dorne. Having burned his previous Hand, Lord Chelsted, alive for bad counsel during the war, Aerys now appointed another to the position: the alchemist Rossart—a man of low birth, with little to recommend him but his flames and trickery. -- TWOIAF

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The Red Keep was soon breached, but in the chaos, misfortune soon fell upon Elia of Dorne and her children, Rhaenys and Aegon. It is tragic that the blood spilled in war may as readily be innocent as it is guilty, and that those who ravished and murdered Princess Elia escaped justice. It is not known who murdered Princess Rhaenys in her bed, or smashed the infant Prince Aegon's head against a wall. Some whisper it was done at Aerys's own command when he learned that Lord Lannister had taken up Robert's cause, while others suggest that Elia did it herself for fear of what would happen to her children in the hands of her dead husband's enemies.-- TWOIAF

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Dorne continued to be closely allied with House Targaryen in the years that followed, with the Martells supporting the Targaryens against the Blackfyre Pretenders and sending spears to fight the Ninepenny Kings on the Stepstones. Their loyal service was rewarded when Rhaegar Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Throne, took to wife Princess Elia Martell of Sunspear, and sired two children by her. But for the madness of Rhaegar's father, Aerys II, a prince of Dornish blood might very well have one day ruled the realm, but the upheavals of Robert's Rebellion brought about the end of Prince Rhaegar, his wife, and his children. .-- TWOIAF

[multific]

The Article

Jaskier x Reader

1960s!AU

Request: Hi!! May I request an AU set in the 1960s with Jaskier x reader..where Jaskier is a singer, Geralt is a biker, and the reader is a magazine reporter for a teen magazine who meets up with Jaskier to do an article on him, and it’s a slow burn romantic relationship between Jaskier and the reader where they both slowly fall in love with each other, please? thank you so much!

A/N: Sorry for the long wait on this one! Hope you like it! Enjoy ☘︎

 You loved and hated your job at the same time.

While it was amazing to meet so many famous people, getting to interview them and see them in person, it was also a very exhausting job. 

The constant travelling and critiques you received. People were extremely picky, nothing was ever good enough for them. Even if you put your heart and soul into the article, some always found faults in it. 

Of course, you were extremely thankful for the supportive, kind and nice people out there who liked your work.

Your next job however would be a big one.

One of the biggest names were in your city and your magazine got the opportunity to do an article about the singer, Jaskier. You were to follow him for five days, not only to get to know his day to day life more but also to make the fans understand this side of him. 

Of course, you were extremely excited that you got this job, and so, the first day out of the five came.

You arrived at their studio in time, the man at the reception was expecting you, so you had no problems getting in.

After getting your pass, you head inside.

When you first saw Jaskier he was with his manager, talking about upcoming concerts and projects. Then you got the opportunity to introduce yourself.

"Hi, my name is Y/N Y/L/N. I'll be the one writing the article, really nice to meet you."

At the time you didn't know, but you took his breath away the second his eyes landed on you. 

"H-Hi. My name is Jaskier pleasure's all mine."

---

Once you got used to the backstage area, they even offered you a room so you can write your articles peacefully.

Then, you headed back to Jaskier's room to explain everything.

"So, I will be following you around for two weeks, I can write more accurately once I'm more used to your habits. Fans would also be interested in your likings, favourites, really anything from food to clothing brands and more."

"Alright, no problem, I don't have anything to hide, really. I do have a friend though, he likes to come to my concerts so if you run into a big, white-haired man, that will be Geralt."

You offered him a smile and he smiled back just as much. "Thank you, I'll keep that in mind."

You knew this is going to be an interesting one.

---

You met Geralt a few days later, someone should have warned you of the tall, muscular and handsome man, you thought he was a body guard at first. Geralt was a biker as you found out, he loved his Harley, he even named it, Roach. Tattoos littered his arms and his presence was always very intense. Geralt was a man of few words but your main focus was on Jaskier.

Going from one concert to another, you learned a lot about his music and the lyrics he wrote.

He loved music.

And it clearly showed.

You would be lying if you said his voice and songs didn't touch you on a spiritual level. 

There was something about him, something more than a singer.

Music was blaring in the bar, yet another night with Jaskier as he sings the night away.

"I have known him for a long time, but I have never seen him as happy as the past week." Geralt said as he finally answered your question for your article, which was coming along very nicely.

"Really? And what do you think changed?" you asked with your pen in hand to write down every information.

"You." was all he said, you looked up at Geralt trying to make it out if he was lying or not. "Ever since you came around, he is happier. He always was a very happy person, but this is different. You know he didn't like the idea of someone following him around for an article, but here he is now, singing all his songs directly to you."

"You're joking, Geralt. Why would he care about me? I'm just a writer."

"I noticed the way you watch him when he performs and the way he watches you while he is singing."Geralt leaned back, took a look at Jaskier then looked back at you. "He got burnt once- maybe you shouldn't mention this in your article- but he was in love once. Madly. But she just used him and dumped his ass when she found someone richer." 

You were confused, why was Geralt telling you about this? You definitely will not write about this, but now his earlier songs made more sense. 

"That's awful."

"Yeah, she was a real bitch. But my point is, it's not easy for someone who has been hurt once to love again." 

You felt that this wasn't only about Jaskier, no, Geralt was the same.

"What's her name?"

"Yennefer." Geralt knew what you meant. "I just wish the two of you wouldn't be so blind. He deserves happiness, you deserve happiness. Don't mess it up like I did." as if you understood, you gave Geralt a nod before turning your head and looking at Jaskier who was now on the last song.

You didn't believe it, could it be true? Were you two in love? It's only been a week though. You didn't want to rush these things.

"Hi Y/N." you looked up at the person entering the room.

"Hi, you did really good out there." 

"Thanks." Jaskier smiled as he sat down opposite of you, sipping his water.

"Who's Yennefer?" you asked suddenly and Jaskier started to choke on the water. A few seconds and he gathered his composure. "Geralt mentioned her." you tried to explain.

"She was...Geralt's girlfriend. They really loved each other but after some time, everything changed. Yennefer started saying things to Geralt like they are only together because of some... I don't even know. They were on and off a lot and I do mean a lot. Now, Yennefer has moved and Geralt's here."

"I see." you bit the inside of your cheek. 

Jaskier moved his hand on the table and placed it on yours, you both looked at each other.

"Look Y-" Jaskier started but he couldn't finish, the unmistakable sound of a bike came from outside and Jaskier moved back in his chair.  Jaskier gave you an apologetic smile. "Speaking of the devil," he said as he stood up and left to greet his friend.

---

"Alright, it's been two weeks, now's time for the interview, are you ready?" you and Jaskier were sitting in his backstage room, today is your last day.

"Yes. Let's do this." Jaskier leaned back in his chair as you sat down across the table from him.

"I don't have many questions, during my time with your band, I managed to get many answers, so I mainly collected some that fan's asked."

"Sounds good."

"Perfect, so, what was your reason for getting into music?"

"I always liked to sing, then my mother bought me a guitar for Christmas and I think that was my breaking point. After that, all I wanted to do was to play and sing. I learned more instruments, but the guitar is what is still the closest to my heart." you wrote down his answer.

"Thank you, the next one is... Your most well-known song is 'Her Sweet Kiss'. Who did you have in mind when writing it?... This might be a bit too forward, let's just maybe you could tell more about the song."

Jaskier smiled. 

"Of course, the song was inspired by an old experience, but I'm over that now. The song is not written with a bad memory in mind."

"Hmm. This one is also a bit forward but, are you dating anyone right now?"

"No, I'm single." you wrote it down, but he continued. "But I do have my eyes on someone." you looked up at him and he was watching you. "I know we didn't talk many times during your time here, but I noticed things about you just as you did about me, I hope I speak for both of us when I say that I would like to go on a date with you."

You froze for a second. The more you thought about it, the more you knew you needed to say yes.

"I-I would love to."

As you watched the smile grow on his face, he quickly stood up and started running around the whole building, yelling out how happy and lucky he was.

Interview and article long forgotten.

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Feedback is greatly appreciated. Thank You for reading my story!~

[vanillann]

right where you left me (bucky barnes x reader)

someone tell me to stop writing sad 40s!bucky fics that aren’t even that good, thank :)

warning: bad angst and mention of death

based off “right where you left me” by taylor swift

word count: 1.7k

Bucky coughed lightly from the other side of the table, the waiter finally leaving us to sit with ourselves. I smiled, my finger playing with the napkin that sat in front of me.

“How’s the salad?”

I frowned at the weird tension that had grown between us recently, conversation and looks not the same they once were.

“Good, how is the steak?”

“Dry but good.”

The conversation ran out again, the check balancing on the edge of the table as we both sat waiting for something to happen, anything at this point.

“(Y/N)?”

“Bucky?” I leaned back in the booth, folding my finger as I waited for some sort of words to fall from his lips.

“I really need to talk to ya,” he trailed off, coughing again as he grabbed the check and began playing with the little piece of paper.

“About?”

“Us.”

My heart dropped, I wasn’t stupid. Everyone would know how a conversation like this would go, it was obvious we hadn’t been the same but I thought we would fix it by now.

“What happened?” I didn’t move, my eyes piercing thought him as I waited for some sort of lame excuse, some excuse about the war or something.

“I- I,” he trailed off again, finally put the checkbook down and let himself cross his arm, setting them on the table. He looked up at him, his eyes looked so broken and I couldn’t tell you why he was walking away, not me.

“There this girl-“ I drowned everything else out, his mouth was moving but I couldn’t put words to it. The room suddenly slowed down, the room suddenly felt like a box I had been taped in.

“A girl?”

“Dottie, she is a doll,” yes please talk about this new lover of yours, exactly what I need to hear.

I knew I was overthinking everything, but I could feel eyes on me. The check was long forgotten as he went on and on.

“Steve told me I should put you through more unnecessary pain,” he spoke his piece, finally shutting up for a second.

How do you respond to that?

“Dottie,” I repeated the name, my eyes drifting to the window that was across the room, making out that the sun had finally set and the stars were out.

“I’m so sorry (Y/N), you deserve better-“

“You could have been better for me if you loved me,” I spoke softly, my words felt harsher than intended but I could do much more than that.

I felt sympathy for the doll in the kid’s section, the doll that was stuffed in the box to very leave that single moment in their life.

“I’ll always love you, it’s just not the same.” Bucky reached across the table, leaving his hand open for me to squeeze back, his way of removing his guilt.

“Yeah, okay.”

I was pissed, maybe I didn’t have the right but maybe that was the biggest thing I was allowed at this moment.

“(Y/N),” his words felt like forever ago, my stares went.

“I’m fine Barnes, I’ll get a cab. Please just leave.”

He’s titled his head, begging me to just come with him but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t sit in a car, in his passenger seat that she most likely once sat in, and act like my heart wasn’t ruined.

“I can call Steve,” I simply nodded, Steve was still my friend and I wouldn’t have to worry about catching a cab this late in the late night.

“Okay,” he said nothing else, leaving the money for the tab thankfully, I would have killed him if he left it to me.

“I’m sorry again (Y/N), it’s not you but me,” that he stood from the booth, moving the hat that sat on his head around a little more before he took it off completely, bowing to me quickly, then leaving the restaurant completely.

It’s not you but me.

What a bullshit line, what a bullshit line for a bullshit break up. I looked back out the window on the other side of the restaurant, seeing him standing in the phone booth most likely calling Steve.

Or maybe he was calling Dottie, telling her they could be together.

Maybe it was selfish of me, to be mad at him for choosing his own happiness, but I had only wished my own way at the expense.

I couldn’t be mad at Bucky, I most certainly couldn’t be mad at Dottie. She did nothing wrong, she was just a girl who loved a boy. A boy who no longer loved me.

I felt as if dust had collected on my shoulder for how long I sat at the booth. My eyes roamed the room and not a single waiter or waitress tried telling me to leave. 

I felt the time had frozen before I felt a small tap on my shoulder, my eye-catching sight of familiar blonde hair.

“Hey,” his voice was soft, as it had always been, but this time was much different.

“Hi,” I was shocked at my own voice, the little crack made my hand run over my throat.

“Have you moved since he left?”

I shocked my head, my eyes never leaving that stupid window since I watched his back walk away.

“Sorry you had to come down to collect me,” the sarcasm dripped from my voice, I always got this way when I was upset.

“You’re the only person I’d do it for,” I knew he would do it for Bucky too, but he refuses to actually say his name.

“He just left Stevie,” I felt the tears play behind my eyes, Steve finally pulling at my hand. I stood up, both of us finally leaving that booth in the corner of the restaurant.

It was suddenly my least favorite spot in the world.

I played with the end of the menu, that window in the same spot it was all that time ago.

It felt like it was forever ago at least.

The news played through the speaker over the door, the name of all the fallen of the war.

I was suddenly happy my friend was a super-human, taking down his chance of being called.

“Jeffery Rhode-“ the name rang through the room, my hand grabbing my glass of water as I waited for my salad to come out.

“George Teller, James Barnes-“

I felt myself choke, my hand flying to my throat as I heard the name called. Only a few more followed but I didn’t have it in me to pay attention.

James Barnes.

A fallen soldier.

Fallen meant dead, he was dead.

I felt tears slip down my cheek, my eyes trained back out that stupid window. My brain played with me, acting as if I would still see him in that phone booth.

I couldn’t comprehend my thoughts. How did it always happen in this corner? Why were all my worst moments stuck here?

“May we have a moment of silence for the fallen soldier.”

I needed more than a moment, I needed a lifetime. I wonder how Steve felt, how Dottie felt.

Was he even still with Dottie?

Why couldn’t I wrap my head around it?

“Here’s your salad,” the older woman, the one who recognized me by now, placed the salad before me with a little sad smile. I couldn’t even nod at her, couldn’t even thank her.

I wished she had bought a steak out too, just to know he was there. Even if I knew he would leave me, I would rather have that than him leaving all of us.

“Buck,” I spoke mostly to myself, still coming to terms with everything.

I hope he heard me from somewhere, to know I wasn’t made anymore.

I looked to my wrinkled hand on the table cloth, waited for that stupid salad like I did every time.

The old phone booth from outside was now gone, instead sat at an ATM that was in high demand. I was shocked the restaurant hadn’t gotten torn down yet, but once I noticed the picture with Steve on the corkboard I knew exactly what happened.

The music was different than it once was, the old 40s music was now much different. They would occasionally play a few older songs, ones that made me feel like that poor broke soul again.

I didn’t understand why I kept going back, it was starting to be pathetic but I couldn’t care. It was the only place I understood.

I was stuck in my own nightmare, yet I was doing it to myself at this point.

I heard the bell above the door ring but I didn’t have it in me to turn and look at who it was. I had become familiar with the regulars over the years that would visit the place often.

I watched a raven-haired man walk up to the ATM. I recognized him as Tony Stark, you knew a face like that anywhere. I was shocked he was in town but my thought was distracted when I heard looking boots approaching my table.

I looked up casually, thinking it would be a waiter. I didn’t recognize the hair at first, the long dark hair that looked softer than silk, but the face was the same.

The little stumbled and the same piercing eyes that I could never forget, the same ones that broke my heart twice within one lifetime.

“It’s me-“

“Buck?”

I didn’t get up with the Avenger stuff, Steve told me little things but other than that I was completely separate from that lifestyle.

“Yeah,” he looked nervous, something I never used to with him, he wasn’t a nervous person.

Not with me, not with Steve, probably not with Dottie.

“Can I sit?”

I nodded, watching as he took the seat he took at those years ago. He was dressed differently, the red shirt and the dark jeans were different from the army green suit he wore proudly.

“It’s your seat after all,” I spoke softly, watching him nod to me with a sad smile.

“Steve said you come here often.”

I didn’t respond, still looking at him with a pout and my head was starting to hurt.

Was it really him?

It wouldn’t be that absurd, look at Steve, but they said he died. He looked like the one stuck in time, the one who still hadn’t grown up from that moment.

“I’m right where you left me.”

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[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Michael in the Mainstream: WandaVision

I love Wanda Maximoff, AKA Scarlet Witch. I’m not sure how apparent that is, but just in general I love comic book characters who use magic, and Wanda is probably my favorite (or at least tied with DC’s Zatanna). Sadly, I never really felt like the MCU did her any justice. She debuted in the worst Avengers movie, her brother was killed before they could showcase a meaningful relationship, and then her next appearances had her speedrunning a relationship with Vision. She definitely got some great moments in Infinity War and Endgame, but she felt woefully underutilized. The same could be said of her boyfriend Vision, who had it even worse than her, because he gets killed in Infinity War and is basically forgotten about after that, with nary a mention in Endgame. These are two fantastic characters, and the MCU just didn’t handle them well at all, and they felt like a complete waste that it was really hard to care about.

Thank god for WandaVision.

This show really did something incredible. It made me care so much about two characters I wished I could have cared about before, and become incredibly invested in their relationship. Wanda and Vision get much-needed spotlight and character development and end up becoming two of the best and most fleshed-out characters in the whole franchise, and it’s amazing they waited so long to do this. Wouldn’t it have been better if we cared so much about them before?

The show has three core elements that help make it great: its characters, its themes, and its presentation. The characters are the big one; Elizabeth Olsen and Paul Bettany really get their time to shine, and both of them manage to do great things with their characters, characters who until now felt more like background characters than actual Avengers. Their relationship is so cute, so wholesome, but with an undercurrent of something a bit sadder that ties in with the show’s themes, and then when they have children things become even more sweet with that dark undercurrent still running strong. Aside from them, the standout of the cast would have to be nosy neighbor Agnes played by Kathryn Hahn… or I should say, the show’s villain, Agatha Harkness, a magic-siphoning witch who’s exploiting Wanda’s fragile emotional state to gain the ultimate power. She’s an actual well-executed twist villain, which is quite a feat for modern Disney, and she’s just as fun and campy as you’d hope an evil witch would be, complete with her very own ridiculous villain song that has her winking at the camera and proudly gloating about killing puppies. It’s delightfully cartoonish. Other standouts include Evan Peters as ‘Pietro,’ in a hilarious and clever bit of meta casting that leads to a dick joke (which might be one of the funniest twists in the MCU) and the return of the greatest Ant-Man supporting character Jimmy Woo. Even Darcy, the absolute worst part of the first two Thor films, manages to return and be tolerable.

The presentation is a big selling point, and what helps the story feel so fresh and unique. Each episode is an affectionate take on a different decade’s sitcoms, starting really oldschool and eventually working all the way up to more modern fare. Interspersed throughout these episodes are some rather entertaining fake commercials which harken to elements of Wanda’s life, and a couple of later ones even act as some heavy foreshadowing for future revelations. The different camera techniques, colors, and whatnot really help sell this fantastical sitcom world Wanda created, though I have to say it is a bit of a shame they couldn’t integrate this style more into the climax, even if there are story reasons for it. It was just such a cool and fun concept, it’s a shame it had to be resolved before the climactic finale.

The themes, though, are what really make this show shine. This show is essentially about a woman dealing with grief. Wanda has lost the man she loves, she has lost her brother, and she’s struggling to find her way in the world. As a coping mechanism, she creates a fantasy world and refuses to face reality, burying her emotions and refusing to move on, instead clinging to the happy concepts that might have been. It really is fantastic as a character study of Wanda, giving her a remarkable amount of depth. I found myself relating to a lot of the themes on display; as someone with depression who has had my fair share of painful experiences, I could empathize with Wanda to a degree. Sure, the person I loved was never murdered by Thanos, but I’ve experienced with grief before. It’s really great stuff they’re working with here.

Unfortunately, as good as all these things are, the show isn’t 100% perfect. The biggest issue is when the show switches focus from the interesting stuff inside of Wanda’s sitcom world to more standard MCU stuff outside. Sure, it’s fun to hang out with Jimmy Woo, the greatest character ever, but a lot of the stuff out there just isn’t engaging and some things just aren’t really elaborated on too much. It’s certainly not awful, but between some really confusing twists with Monica Rambeau (who is a good character otherwise and one I want to see more of) and the extremely boring, 2/10 on Psycho Analysis villain Hayward, there’s really not much here that can even hope to compare to the events unfolding in Wanda’s life. The best things from the outside are flashbacks, such as when Monica returned from being snapped or when we get to see Wanda visiting Vision’s corpse in government lockup, which is one of the most tearjerking moments in the show.

There’s also how the swerve into the standard “Big Marvel action” isn’t exactly graceful. After a great episode where Agatha goes back through Wanda’s life, giving even more insight to Wanda as a character and showing us a lot of fascinating moments, we get into the grand finale which feels like what you’d see in a movie theater, for better or for worse. Now I’m a real slut for crazy witch duels between hot women, and this certainly delivers on that front, but there’s so much other crap going on and it really is weird to think how this show about a superhero woman learning to handle her grief somehow became a big, epic showdown that wouldn’t look out of place in a Harry Potter film. I don’t hate this finale as much as some people do, but it definitely feels like the weakest episode overall (which isn’t too bad, since it’s still good, just not really what I would have liked to see).

WandaVision is the sort of thing I want to see more from the MCU going forward. It’s fresh, it’s interesting, it doesn’t take a standard route for the most part, and it utilizes characters who never got a fair shake in interesting and creative ways. Most importantly, it’s very weird and very comic booky, which is something the MCU was lacking for much of its first ten years (save for the films Gunn and Waititi made). I’m sure not everyone is going to find this to be their cup of tea, and it’s easy to grow bored of the cuts away from Wanda to the more cliché affairs outside of her sitcom bubble, but this is definitely a rich and rewarding show that engages with some heavier topics in an easy-to-digest and enjoyable way. Hopefully we’ll see more creativity like this going forward.

[betafibiiiiiivviiixiiixxixxxiv]

so i saw a take about eula that made me mad so here’s my (biased) rant about her

i’m pro-end user license agreement, i think she’s cute, not just appearance-wise but personality-wise too

(didn’t pull her tho bc the kinda obvious powercreeping made me salty, might pull her when her rerun comes around just to have her and not level her)

but basically the gist of this rant is gonna be i think people unfairly mischaracterize her and i’m gonna talk about why i think she’s a good bean based on the two things about her that i’ve seen people mention they dislike the most: the way she talks and her relationship to/feelings about her family

disclaimer: a lot of this is my opinion and my interpretation of her character, probably has a lot of typos

this will probably be really like

incomprehensible i’m tired sorry but i’ll try to make sense

okay so

a lot of people from what i’ve seen dislike eula bc of the way she talks, but at least try to understand why she might talk the way she does

putting aside the reason why she talked the way she did to the people of mondstadt during her story quest (i’ll get to that later), let’s talk about her whole focus on vengeance first

imo her whole thing about vengeance is a shield of sorts for her

many of the people of mondstadt would only ever see her as a descendant of the lawrence clan, someone who means to do mondstadt harm

so might as well give them what they expect, even if it’s not what you really mean

her story in her character profile even says this

“Her grievances and vengeance are but a habit, a signal, a shield.

“What remarks she should just laugh off, what concepts she should bear in mind given her unique circumstances and position...“

one has to remember that eula is a descendant of the lawrence clan, a clan that is hated in mondstadt bc of how corrupted they became during the era of the aristocracy

it’s likely that when she was a child she was ostracized even though the sins of her family, her ancestors, aren’t her own

even if she wanted to make friends with the other children of mondstadt, they were probably too distrustful of her

in her story in her character profile, there’s no mention of jean or diluc in regards to her past, but amber is mentioned to have been her friend even before eula joined the knights of favnious

it’s likely amber was one of her few friends growing up, if not her only friend

and amber is a pretty easy-going and welcoming person; she probably didn’t care about the way eula spoke all that much and bc they’re friends she understands the feelings eula hides behind her seemingly contentious words

anyways about her and the people of mondstadt

the people of mondstadt only see the family she’s a part of; they don’t see her

from her profile story:

“Eula has been viewed with contempt by the citizens of Mondstadt since birth. The Lawrence name stands for a legacy of depravity and despotism that stains Mondstadt's past and scars the minds of its citizens even to this day.

“So, whenever Eula appears, old wounds resurface. People despise the aristocracy, and this does no favors for her reputation.”

“In truth, Eula is nothing like the fearsome predator many imagine her to be. On the contrary, constantly being met with prejudice at every turn means she is often the victim.

“At one time, shops would refuse to sell her their goods, restaurants would put no care and attention into her orders, and the citizens on her patrol route would refuse to cooperate with her. So, Eula's work is fraught with difficulties.“

and in her voicelines:

“The life of a Lawrence doesn't include much worth talking about... Basically, whatever you say, whatever you do, people will always despise you and treat you like a potential threat to society. It's nowhere near as bad as it used to be, though. Before I'd joined the Knights, good grief... I couldn't even buy groceries. Even Good Hunter and Mondstadt General Goods wouldn't take my money.”

“People tell me that if I just spoke more softly, or was more polite, or acted more deferentially, others may find it easier to forgive me, but the only reason they think that way is because they've never been branded a pariah before. There is no easy path to redemption when you're a social pariah. I'm more inclined to stop tiptoeing around everyone all the time and just get out there and make them respect me the old-fashioned way! As in, we square off and if they win, I humbly accept my punishment, but if they lose, they must acquiesce to my demands... Such as... Well, I mean, if I want to buy a loaf of bread, take my darn money, for crying out loud!“

the people of mondstadt wronged her and were mean to her simply bc of the blood that runs through her veins, and i think it’s bc of that she says that she’ll have her vengeance

imo her act of vengeance against the people of mondstadt is being a faultless knight, a knight who completes their duties flawlessly and is without reproach

from her story in her profile:

“...she is a law-abiding citizen and has never harmed another Mondstadter in her life. She may come across as having a somewhat frosty demeanor, but she is entirely scrupulous in her speech and conduct.”

“When Jean sends a new recruit to track down Eula in the wilds and deliver a new set of verbal orders, they always receive the same response: ‘If you have to resort to tasking the descendant of your former oppressors with doing your work, then perhaps you are not as strong as I thought’

“But despite the antagonism in her words, she will complete her newly assigned tasks to perfection. The new recruit is invariably forced to admit that with her abilities, it is no wonder she was able to achieve a captaincy within just a few years of joining the Knights.“

and honestly i just think she’s a tsundere

my evidence, your honor?

her “About Us: Feud” voiceline:

“Our feud is for the long term, so rather than get payback on a piecemeal basis, I think I'll make things easier for myself and wait for a day when I can settle the score once and for all. It could be in ten years, could even be twenty... But don't worry, I won't forget. In the meantime, I'll need you to take good care of yourself and have a happy, healthy life, okay?”

anyways about the way she spoke in her story quest

one first has to learn that this was what she was taught that way since she was young

reading up on the lawrence family based on her profile story, the renmants of the lawrence family are pretty much a cult i think

“The Lawrence Clan may have been overthrown a long time ago, but they have never given up hope of one day rising again and reclaiming their place as the ruling class. So that they are always prepared for this monumental moment, their offspring are subjected to an educational regime so unbelievably harsh that it is considered borderline abusive.

“’Noble obligations’ must be performed to absolute perfection in every possible sense, and these obligations cover etiquette, ritual, and study as well as cooking and other domestic chores.”

and also

she clearly doesn’t talk that way all the time?

personally the reason i think the mondstadters we talked to were like ‘ugh, this again?’ is bc all of the lawrence clan does it, and eula is part of the lawrence clan so it’s like, expected of her to talk that way

but the main reason she talked that way was to give an example to the traveler

she didn’t talk that way to us when we first met her, and she didn’t talk that way to amber and sarah

and some people think she still supports her family? like man

i don’t know if we went through the same story quest or not

but eula quite clearly ruined a plan of her uncle’s that was to harm mondstadt? and during that quest she quite clearly shows her disdain for her family and her family’s ideals?

“I’ve never experienced the age of ‘glory’ you always speak of, and I’ve never understood our family’s incessant pursuit of it. [...] The Lawrence Clan should never and will never become what you’ve dreamed it to be!”

not to mention her voicelines where she makes fun of her family often:

“Knights and aristocrats share the same cultural heritage, but the knights had enough sense to do away with all the superfluous detail.“

“Aristocratic etiquette is all just for show... Just smile and nod along! I was forced to learn all of the rules by heart, but even I don't take them that seriously.”

“I heard that bard sing a few songs about the Lawrence Clan... They were lighthearted and funny stories that mocked the clan in a way I've never heard anyone else do. Even I couldn't help but burst out laughing... And for this, he must pay!”

“Technically, aged Dandelion Wine should be poured into a silver goblet and allowed to breathe for 12 minutes, then you're supposed to add ice cubes, ideally so 60% of the ice is submerged beneath the wine. I refuse to do all that though, it's not worth the hassle.”

and not to mention this voiceline where she outright states that if her family crossed the line she’d end her family herself:

“If my family members refuse to change their corrupt ways, or worse, continue to cause active harm in Mondstadt... I should be the one to end them, along with the Lawrence name itself. For once, it'd be a family obligation I'd actually enjoy. And once the deed was done, I'd be free to pick any name I wanted. Or even let you pick one for me!“

also about her saying she wants to avenge her kin in her voicelines, (this is me kinda reaching, ngl) imo it could just be her sarcasm, or she could be trying to change mondstadt’s view of the lawrence clan so that others in the family like her who aren’t as attatched to the aristocratic customs and share her beliefs can walk freely in mondstadt’s streets without fear of reprisal, which can be evidenced by this voiceline:

“The name Lawrence only became a social stigma after the clan fell from grace. It was once an honor to be called a Lawrence, but unfortunately, most people have forgotten about that part of history. The Grand Master says that I am performing rather well as a knight, and that if it's not enough to restore the honor of the Lawrence name, it's certainly a strong rebuttal against the one-sided opinions so many people throw around. I'm quite satisfied with that appraisal.“

furthermore based on her voiceline about barbara, i’m pretty sure she wants to be liked? to be acknowledged in a good way?

“Everyone loves her. What's her secret? Maybe I could learn a thing or two from her... Hmm, or maybe not. I can't imagine a ‘Shining Idol’ would want anything to do with a descendant of a depraved dynasty.“

like, she doesn’t want to be thought of as just a descendant of the lawrence clan

she wants to be known for who she is, not her family

i think this is why she avoids lisa too, since lisa would have read all about her family and she doesn’t want lisa’s judgement

lastly, what she learned from amber’s grandfather, found in her profile story:

“From him, she learned an open-mindedness and down-to-earth persistence that she had heretofore not possessed. Before grievance and vengeance, before clan and outsider, one must find "oneself" first.

“One's way of living, self-preservation, objects of perseverance...

“Then call it "grievance" and name it "vengeance" — that will not change its essential strength and goodness.

“It would be Eula's very own gentle path of revenge...“

she didn’t turn against the people of mondstadt and join her family in their crusade for glory even though the people of mondstadt treated her horribly

she instead strove to be someone worthy of being respected, someone who is more than just a part of a disgraced and despised family

anyways i think that’s all i wanted to say

basically tldr: end user license agreement is a sweet and gentle person and i like her very much