#but barton is going to do what he wants even though i write him so he did it anyway lol. and oh my gosh-

[amethystarachnid]

no bc why would a loki friends to lovers be so good?? 😭 ✋✋✋

can i request loki trope best friends to lovers with female avenger!reader from love is in the air? i have a whole plot and i am so sorry in advance so here we go:

reader is lokis best friend and they became friends bc she was the only avenger who was nice to him when he first came to the compound and they got really close. he still gets bad nightmares and when he does, he goes to readers room and she just accepts him and holds him while he cries until the nightmares are over!! (she’s so book boyfriend coded i literally can’t) and then this happens a lot but is only mentioned like a few times in the story (i really hope you understand this im so sorry my thoughts are literally all over the place) and then one night he goes to her room again bc of another nightmare and she comforts him and they fall asleep and he doesn’t have any nightmares while sleeping and then in the morning when they wake up (tangled in each others limbs) he goes ‘i love you’ and she smiles and goes i know and then he goes like ‘no, i LOVE you’ and she smiles more and whispers ‘i know’ and then kisses him!!!

thank you for making this new game and always specifying the as much detail as we want part i love u and ur writing soso much and you are so amazing and im so sorry for making you read this super long request

— anon 🌷

NIGHTMARES

⤷ LOKY LAUFEYSON

ᯓ★ Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, some angst and some fluff

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 4.3k

ᯓ★ Summary: just what the ask said

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing I think, just some angst

ᯓ★ Love is in the air - Valentine's Day special game

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

Loki has no choice but to be here.

It is a punishment, though not the kind he expected. No dungeons, no chains—just the ever-present weight of Midgardian hospitality, which is its own sort of prison. After Asgard’s fall and the madness that followed, Thor petitioned to bring Loki to the Avengers Compound rather than leave him to whatever grim fate awaited him elsewhere. It was a mercy, Thor claimed. Loki knew better. It was just another way to keep him under watch, to keep him leashed. So he plays along, lets them believe he is something tame and manageable, even if the mere presence of this place makes his skin crawl.

The others do not trust him. That much is expected. Even if Loki had miraculously decided to change his ways, there is too much blood between them all. Stark especially watches him like a vulture, always ready with some barbed comment, some clever little jab to remind Loki that he is not welcome. Rogers is quieter about his disdain, ever the noble soldier, but he does not mask it well. Romanoff does not bother with pretense—she does not speak to him at all. Barton is much the same, still nursing whatever wounds Loki left behind in New York. Maximoff has her own reasons to hate him. Strange treats him as one might treat an unpredictable wild animal, barely interested beyond the occasional veiled threat.

Thor is the only one who does not look at Loki like an enemy, though his efforts to bridge the gap between them are clumsy at best. Loki does not want his brother’s pity. He does not want to be here at all.

And yet, somehow, against all odds, you happen.

You are the only one who speaks to Loki without venom in your voice, the only one who does not look at him like a problem that needs solving. From the very beginning, you offer him kindness. Not the strained, obligatory sort Thor extends, nor the artificial niceties of someone waiting for him to slip up. You are simply… kind. It baffles him. It frustrates him. It keeps him awake at night, replaying your words and gestures in his mind, trying to decipher your angle.

He tests you at first. He is cruel, the way he has always been, sharp-tongued and dismissive. He tries to chase you away, because he cannot fathom why you would want to be close to him. But you stay. You take his barbs with an infuriating sort of patience, countering his wit with your own, refusing to let him push you into the shadows. And slowly, against his better judgment, he stops trying to push at all.

Loki does not know when exactly things change. One moment, you are just another foolish Midgardian trying to play nice with the villain, and the next, you are something else entirely. A constant. A presence that lingers in his mind even when you are not there. He finds himself seeking you out, watching for you when he enters a room. He makes excuses to be where you are, though he is certain you see through them all.

You are different from the others. Perhaps that is why he lets you in. Perhaps that is why, when you tease him, he does not feel the usual bite of mockery. When you speak to him, he listens. When you laugh, he does not wish for silence.

It is strange, this… whatever this is between you. He does not know what to call it.

There is a night, early on, when he realizes how much he enjoys your presence. The others are away on some mission, leaving the compound oddly silent. You do not know he is there when you slip into the common room, curled up in the corner with a book, lost in the pages. Loki watches you for longer than he should before making himself known. You do not startle when he speaks, do not tense like the others do when they notice him lurking. You simply glance up, meet his gaze, and smile.

It is a small thing. A meaningless thing. And yet, Loki feels it somewhere deep in his chest, in a place he thought long since turned to stone.

From then on, things are… different. You and Loki fall into an easy rhythm, one that does not require explanation. You are his friend, though he still struggles with the weight of that word. It is unfamiliar on his tongue, but there is no other way to describe what you are to him. You speak to him as though he is not a monster. You listen when he speaks, even when his words turn bitter. You do not pity him, nor do you fear him. It is a delicate balance, and yet, you hold it effortlessly.

The others notice, of course. Stark makes his comments, forever incredulous that you would willingly spend your time with Loki. The others exchange looks when they see you together, silently wondering what exactly has formed between you. Even Thor is perplexed by it, though he does not question it aloud.

Loki does not care what they think.

For the first time in what feels like centuries, he is not entirely alone.

---

The first time it happens, Loki does not intend for it to happen at all.

It is late—long past the hour when even the restless find sleep. The compound is silent, steeped in the kind of darkness that makes everything feel heavier, more oppressive. He should be resting. He knows this. And yet, as he lies in the too-soft Midgardian bed, the sheets tangled around his restless limbs, Loki cannot shake the remnants of his nightmare.

It is not the first time he has suffered such things. They have plagued him for years, twisting his thoughts into cruel shapes, dragging him into memories he cannot escape. Usually, he endures them alone, swallowing down the horror, letting it fester in silence. But tonight is different. Tonight, the weight of it is unbearable.

He sits up, dragging a hand down his face, breath still unsteady. The dream clings to him like a second skin. He can feel it—thick, choking, inescapable. His own screams still echo in his mind, a cruel reminder of how easily he unravels when left alone with his thoughts.

He needs to breathe.

Loki forces himself out of bed, out of his room, into the dimly lit hall. He does not know where he is going at first. He does not think at all. His body moves on instinct, his feet carrying him forward before his mind catches up.

And then he is standing in front of your door.

The realization strikes him like a blow. He should not be here. He has no reason to be here. And yet, something in him will not allow him to turn away.

He hesitates, jaw tight, fingers curling into fists. He should leave. The last thing he wants is for you to see him like this—weak, vulnerable, broken. You have only ever known the pieces of him that he allows you to see, the sharp wit, the clever smirk, the mask that keeps the world at bay. This… this is something else entirely.

And yet, before he can stop himself, he lifts his hand and knocks.

It is soft, barely audible, but in the silence of the compound, it may as well be a thunderclap. His heart pounds against his ribs, and he almost turns to flee before the sound of movement reaches his ears.

A moment later, the door opens.

You stand before him, bleary-eyed and wrapped in a blanket, confusion written across your features.

"Loki?" Your voice is thick with sleep, but there is no irritation in it, no impatience. Just quiet concern.

He does not know what to say. He does not even know why he is here, why he has come to you instead of locking himself away like he always does. The words catch in his throat, his pride warring with his need for something—anything—to ground him.

But you look at him, really look at him, and something in your expression shifts.

You step aside without a word, leaving the doorway open in silent invitation.

For a long moment, Loki simply stands there, waging a battle within himself. He should not do this. He should not need this.

But the alternative is far worse.

So, with slow, reluctant steps, he moves inside.

You close the door behind him, and the quiet settles between you, not awkward, but heavy with something unspoken. You do not ask why he is here. You do not press him for an explanation. Instead, you gesture toward your bed, a silent offer, as if you have already decided what he needs before he can admit it himself.

He swallows, shame burning in his chest, but he cannot bring himself to refuse.

Without a word, he lowers himself onto the edge of the bed. His hands tremble slightly as he presses them against his knees, his entire body taut with tension. He feels exposed, raw in a way that terrifies him.

And then you sit beside him, so close he can feel your warmth.

Still, you do not push. You wait.

It is this—your patience, your quiet understanding—that breaks something in him.

He exhales sharply, his composure fracturing at the edges. His shoulders shake before he can stop them, and then, before he even knows what is happening, his hands are gripping the fabric of his own sleeves so tightly that his knuckles turn white.

You move before he can react, before he can even think to stop you. Your arms come around him, careful but certain, pulling him into your embrace.

Loki stiffens at first, instinct screaming at him to pull away. He is not used to this—to being held. He does not know how to accept comfort, how to take something so freely given.

But you do not let go. You do not waver. You simply hold him, warm and steady, as if this is the most natural thing in the world.

And Loki breaks.

A shuddering breath escapes him, and then another. His body sags against yours before he can stop it, his forehead pressing into your shoulder, his fingers clutching at the fabric of your shirt like a lifeline. The dam bursts, and before he can stop it, he is trembling, shaking, silent sobs wracking his frame.

You say nothing. You do not tell him it is okay, do not offer empty reassurances. You simply hold him through it, your hands moving gently along his back, your touch grounding him in a way that nothing else ever has.

Time loses meaning. He does not know how long he stays like this, pressed against you, his breath uneven, his body betraying him. But you never pull away. You never make him feel as if he is too much.

When the storm finally begins to pass, when his breathing evens and the tremors fade, he feels exhaustion settle deep in his bones. He should move. He should leave before he humiliates himself further.

But then you shift, adjusting your grip so that you are holding him more fully, your chin resting gently atop his head.

"Stay," you murmur, the word barely above a whisper.

He does not fight it.

For the first time in his life, Loki allows himself to be held.

That night, he sleeps.

And then, somehow, it becomes normal.

It does not happen every night, but often enough that neither of you question it anymore. When the nightmares come, when the weight of his past becomes unbearable, Loki finds himself at your door.

And every time, without fail, you let him in.

The shame he once felt begins to fade, replaced by something he does not have the words for. You do not judge him for his weakness. You do not make him feel like a burden. You simply accept him, in all his fractured, broken pieces, without hesitation.

It is terrifying.

It is the most comfort he has ever known.

And Loki does not know what to do with that.

---

Loki does not know when it begins. Perhaps it has always been there, buried beneath layers of denial and self-preservation, something too delicate to acknowledge, too dangerous to name. But slowly, steadily, it grows.

He notices it in the quiet moments, in the spaces between words.

It is in the way he seeks you out without realizing it, the way his day does not feel quite right until he has spoken to you. It is in the way his chest tightens when you laugh, in the way his mind lingers on your voice long after you have left the room.

It is in the nights spent wrapped in your arms, when the nightmares become too much.

At first, those nights were a necessity, a last resort when his own mind betrayed him. But now, they are something else entirely. The shame that once clung to him has faded, replaced by something far more dangerous. He no longer fights the pull toward you—he welcomes it. He does not know when it became so natural to find solace in your presence, to lean into your warmth without hesitation.

But it is not just about the nightmares anymore.

It is the way he lingers when he does not need to. The way his fingers brush against yours in passing, the way he memorizes every shift in your expression, the way your touch lingers on his skin long after you have pulled away. It is the way his heart pounds in his chest at the smallest of gestures, the way your absence leaves an ache that he cannot name.

And then, one night, it happens.

It is late, but Loki is not in his room. He is in yours, as he has been countless times before. The routine is familiar—he wakes from a nightmare, the echoes of it still clinging to his skin, and without thinking, his feet carry him to you.

You let him in, as you always do.

Tonight, the weight of it is heavier than usual. The nightmare lingers in his mind, curling around his thoughts like smoke. He does not speak of it, and you do not ask. You simply pull him into your arms, letting him bury himself against you, his breath uneven against your collarbone.

For a long time, neither of you move. The silence is comforting, your fingers tracing gentle patterns along his back, grounding him.

And then, in the stillness, something shifts.

You sigh softly, a sleepy, content sound, your arms tightening around him just slightly before relaxing again. It is the simplest thing—an unconscious movement, a meaningless moment.

But it unravels him.

The realization hits Loki with the force of a thousand suns. It is sudden and absolute, as if it has been waiting for this exact moment to make itself known.

He loves you.

It is not friendship, not even close. It never has been.

His love for you is deep and consuming, something that lives in his very bones. It is in the way he looks at you when you are not watching, the way your presence soothes him in a way nothing else ever has. It is in the way he would burn the world to the ground if it meant keeping you safe.

The realization is terrifying.

Loki does not move. He does not breathe. He simply lies there, pressed against you, as the weight of it crushes him.

This should not have happened. He should not have allowed it.

Love is a weakness. It is a thing to be used, to be twisted and turned against him. He has seen it happen too many times before. He has felt the sting of rejection, the sharp bite of betrayal. He knows better than to hope.

And yet, it is too late.

Loki swallows hard, willing the ache in his chest to subside. He cannot tell you. He will not. You are his closest friend, the only person who has ever truly seen him, the only one who has never turned him away. If he speaks this truth aloud, he risks losing that.

And that is something he cannot bear.

So he does what he has always done—he buries it.

He forces himself to breathe, forces himself to relax against you, as if nothing has changed. Because for you, nothing has.

You do not know. You cannot know.

And Loki will make sure it stays that way.

From that night on, everything feels different.

He pretends it does not. He is careful, measured. He acts as he always has, keeps his words and actions the same. He does not allow himself to linger too long, does not let his touch betray him.

But inside, he is unraveling.

It is a constant war, a battle he fights every second he is near you. He is hyperaware of every glance, every touch, every breath. He cannot stop looking at your lips when you speak, cannot ignore the way his heart clenches when you smile.

And the worst part? You do not even notice.

You treat him the same as always, utterly unaware of the storm raging inside him. You laugh with him, tease him, pull him into your arms on those quiet nights, completely oblivious to the fact that every moment is torture.

Because he wants.

Gods, how he wants.

There are nights when he stands outside your door, debating whether or not he should knock. Not because of the nightmares—those still come, but they are no longer the only reason he seeks you out. He knocks because he aches for your presence, because the thought of being alone feels unbearable.

And every time, without fail, you let him in.

You do not question it. You do not ask why. You simply welcome him as if he belongs there, as if it is the most natural thing in the world.

And maybe, to you, it is.

But for Loki, it is agony.

Because he cannot have you.

Not the way he wants.

And so, he suffers in silence.

He lets himself be near you, lets himself feel your warmth, your touch, your kindness. But he never says a word. He keeps it locked inside, where it cannot hurt either of you.

Because if you do not know, then you cannot leave.

And for Loki, that is the only thing that matters.

---

It happens again.

Another nightmare. Another night where the ghosts of his past pull him under, drowning him in horrors he cannot escape.

Loki wakes with a sharp inhale, his breath coming too fast, his chest tight with panic. The darkness of his room feels suffocating, the walls too close, the air too thin. His hands tremble as he presses them against the mattress, trying to ground himself, trying to remind himself that he is here, not there.

Not falling. Not failing. Not alone.

The thought comes unbidden, as it always does.

Because he is not alone.

Without thinking, without hesitating, his body moves on instinct, slipping out of bed and into the hallway. His bare feet make no sound against the floor, the compound silent in the deep hours of the night. He does not question where he is going. He does not stop to consider if he should.

Because he already knows the answer.

Your door is slightly ajar, just as it always is. You never lock it. You never turn him away.

Loki hesitates for only a moment before pushing it open.

The room is bathed in darkness, the faint glow of the city outside casting soft shadows along the walls. You are curled beneath the blankets, your breathing slow and steady, lost in sleep.

He should leave. He should not do this.

But the remnants of his nightmare still cling to him, cold and suffocating, and he cannot bear the thought of returning to his room, to the silence, to the weight of his own thoughts.

So he steps inside.

The floor creaks beneath his weight, but you do not startle. You stir slightly, shifting against the pillows, but you do not wake.

And yet, as he stands there, lingering in the doorway, you sigh softly, murmuring his name in the dark. Not with fear, not with surprise—just quiet understanding, as if you expected him to be there all along.

Something in his chest tightens.

He does not speak, does not explain. He simply moves toward the bed, and when he hesitates, you lift the blanket in silent invitation.

He exhales, slow and shaky, before slipping beneath the covers beside you.

The warmth of you envelops him immediately, soft and steady, grounding him in a way that nothing else ever has.

He presses closer without thinking, without meaning to, his forehead brushing against your shoulder, his hands curled near his chest.

And then, as if sensing the last of his hesitation, you shift just enough to pull him fully against you, wrapping your arms around him in a way that makes everything inside him unravel.

Loki breathes.

The tension eases from his body, the nightmare fading into nothing, the ghosts retreating into the shadows where they belong.

You hold him, just as you always do, your fingers tracing lazy, soothing patterns along his back. He feels your breath against his temple, soft and even, and for the first time in a long time, he lets himself relax.

His eyes grow heavy, his body warm, and then—

Sleep finds him.

And for the first time in years, there are no nightmares.

The morning sun filters through the curtains, golden and soft, chasing away the last remnants of night.

Loki stirs slowly, caught in that hazy space between sleep and wakefulness, his mind still wrapped in warmth, in comfort, in you.

There is something different this time. Usually, when morning comes, he is awake before you, careful to slip away before you can stir, before you can see him in the vulnerable light of day.

But this morning, he does not move.

He is tangled in your limbs, his head resting against your chest, your arms still wrapped around him.

He does not want to move.

Your scent surrounds him, your warmth pressing against every inch of him, and for once, he allows himself to savor it.

His eyes flutter open just enough to catch the golden light spilling across the bed, the way your hair glows in the morning sun. You are still asleep, your breath slow and steady, your heartbeat a gentle rhythm beneath his ear.

And he is safe.

The thought settles in his chest, warm and unfamiliar, something he has never allowed himself to believe before.

And before he can stop himself, before his mind fully catches up with his body, the words slip out, slow and sleepy and utterly unguarded.

"I love you."

The words are barely above a whisper, a sigh against your skin, but you hear them.

Because you smile.

Loki does not see it at first, but he feels it—the shift in your body, the way your arms tighten around him just slightly, the way your breath catches for half a second before settling again.

And then, still drowsy, still wrapped in the warmth of morning, you murmur, "I know."

Loki freezes.

His breath catches in his throat, his body going rigid against you as his mind finally catches up with his words.

What has he done?

Panic rises in his chest, sharp and sudden. He had not meant to say it, had not meant to ruin this. He was supposed to keep it buried, to let it fester in silence where it could not hurt either of you.

But it is too late.

You know.

And then, just as he is about to pull away, just as the weight of his own foolishness threatens to crush him, you shift beneath him, tilting your head just slightly, pressing your lips to the top of his head in a touch so soft it makes him ache.

And then—

"I know," you whisper again, and this time, your voice is different.

He swallows hard, eyes squeezing shut, his fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt.

"No," he breathes, barely audible, as if saying it again will somehow change the meaning, make you understand the weight of it.

But you do.

You have always understood him better than anyone.

"I love you," he says again, more certain this time, more him, his voice rough from sleep and tangled in something too big to contain.

He feels you smile against his hair.

And then, gently, finally, you whisper, "I know."

And then you kiss him.

Loki stills, every thought in his mind vanishing into nothing as your lips press against his.

It is soft and slow, something delicate, something precious.

It is not hurried or desperate. It is intentional. Certain.

Your fingers brush against his jaw, tilting his face up to yours, deepening the kiss just enough to steal the breath from his lungs.

And Loki—Loki, who has spent his entire life running from things he cannot bear to lose—lets himself fall.

When you finally pull away, your forehead resting against his, Loki does not move. He cannot. His heart is still catching up with what just happened, his mind still drowning in the warmth of you.

You smile, pressing one last kiss to the corner of his mouth before murmuring, "Took you long enough."

A breath of laughter escapes him, something he did not expect, something light and unguarded.

He presses his face back into the crook of your neck, exhaling slowly as the last of his fear dissolves into nothing.

"You are insufferable," he mumbles, but there is no heat behind the words, no bite.

Only love.

And this time, he does not try to hide it.

[buckyshoneybunny]

Friendsgiving

College!Quarterback!Bucky Barnes + Curvy!College!Reader 

Summery- You and Bucky explore your new relationship while you and the gang celebrate Thanksgiving. 

W.C.- 4221 

Warnings- Smut, oral (fem), fingering, unprotected sex 

A/N- I am so so sorry this is late. I’ve been stressed and I didn’t know how I wanted to do this. But I keep it sweet with no drama, for now anyway, the next one will have lots of drama lol. I do hope you enjoy this. Home For Christmas will be long since it’s going to have a lot in it. But that one and the one for new years might be late and I apologize in advance for that. Anyway enjoy and see you next time my loves! (The picture of the kitchen is mine) (not proofread)

Taglist-  @calwitch @winterslove1917 @hi172826

Masterlist           Series Masterlist   

“He’s doing it again,” Sam snickers. 

“Doing what?” Steve hums. 

“Looking at her with those love sick puppy eyes.”  

Steve looks up from where he was fiddling with the lights for the back patio to see you and Bucky cuddled on the couch. Bucky had a small smile on his face as he watched you ramble on about this new book you were reading.  

“Give him a break, he’s happy.” Steve set the lights back in the box. Since you and Bucky had started dating the guys had been coming over more often, spending the nights too. You didn’t mind though; you had the room and if anything, it felt nice to have a full house. It made it feel more like home in a way.  

Sam looks back over to you and Bucky. He smirks, knowing damn good and well Bucky has no idea what you’re saying. He's too captivated by the way you look and the joy on your face to pay attention to the plot of your book. 

You and Bucky had been together almost two weeks now, when you had told the others they seemed happy and relieved. No more tip toeing around and no more arguing.  

You had laughed as a grumpy Steve handed $20 to a very happy Sam. Bucky grumbled and smacked Sam’s arm. Steve had bet Bucky would be the one to confess while Sam bet you would be the one to break first. 

Now even though you haven’t been together long, you were enjoying seeing this new side of Bucky. You were learning new things about him and seeing the side of him he didn’t even show Steve.  

You found out his favorite books were The Hobbit and Lord of The Rings. He loved to watch older movies; he was a big nerd when it came to anything space or scientific related. And what surprised you the most was he knew the answer to just about every history question you could think of. 

Bucky was also learning new things about you. How you procrastinated until the last second and somehow whatever you were working on always came out amazing. How good you were at drawing; how creative your mind was when it came to writing stories. He just about fell out of his chair when you told him you knew how to change the oil and tires on a car. 

You both were taking it one step at a time, exploring the unfamiliar grounds of this new relationship.  

Steve and Sam walk over and join you on the couch. Steve sits next to you while Sam sits next to him. 

“You know he has absolutely no idea what you’re saying, right?” Sam chuckles. Steve elbows him. 

“Yes, he does, right Bucky? Bucky?” You wave a hand in front of his face. “James,” you sigh. 

Bucky blinks his eyes, refocusing them. “Hmm?” 

“Seriously Bucky?” You scoff a laugh. 

“I’m sorry, princess. You're just so cute when you’re excited,” he smiles.  

You blush and hide your face while Steve and Nat coo. Sam and Yelena make gagging faces, those two like two peas in a pod.  

“Since Thanksgiving is in a couple of days shouldn’t we go food shopping tomorrow?” Steve asks. 

“Me and you can go after we get back from the fall festival tomorrow,” you answer. 

“Fall festival?” Sam asks, disinterest clear in his voice. 

“Yeah,” Natasha nods. “We’re going to the Barton farm; they’re having a fall festival.” 

“I thought we already went to a festival there?” Sam groans. 

“We did, but that was for Halloween. They have three festivals every year, one for Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas.”  

“Well, have fun, cause I’m sitting this out.”  

“You’re going,” Yelena says sternly. 

“No, I’m not.” 

“Yes, you are.” 

“No.” 

“Yes.” 

“No.” 

“Please?” Yelena sticks her bottom lip out in a pout and gives him her puppy eyes. 

“Fine,” Sam grumbles. He rolls his eyes when everyone laughs. It had been Yelena’s idea to go, there was a certain someone she wanted to see.  

A little while later you and Bucky lay in your bed rewatching a show you’ve seen a thousand times on your computer. You were just starting to doze off when he speaks up. 

“You didn’t go to the Halloween festival,” he says softly. His bushy eyebrows set in a frown.  

“What?” You yawn, blinking your eyes repeatedly and doing your best to keep them open.  

“The Halloween festival, you didn’t go.” Bucky closes the laptop and sets it on the nightstand.  

“No, I didn’t,” you sigh and snuggle into Bucky’s side. That same stuffed dog squished between you both. 

“Why? Was it because of me?” He whispers.  

You let out a small laugh. “No, I didn’t feel good that night, nor did I want to get dragged to the haunted house. I hate scary things.” 

“Oh, okay.” Bucky pulls you impossibly closer. “Goodnight princess,” he kisses your forehead.  

“Goodnight Bucky.”  

The next morning the six of you get ready for the festival. You and Bucky are the last ones to be ready, Bucky having gotten a little handsy while you were in the shower together.  

You wore snug blue jeans that hugged your thighs and ass. A silk tank top-one that accented your curves and made Bucky’s mouth water-under a long-sleeved shirt. You then stole one of Bucky’s jackets to wear, claiming it would keep you warmer, it went down to about mid-thigh on you. Bucky helped you put your boots on and laced them. You slid on some gloves while Bucky wrapped a scarf around your neck and slid beanie on your head.  

Though you were covered up, Bucky’s mouth still watered at the sight of you. He didn’t understand how someone could look so adorable yet sexy at the same time. 

Bucky, Steve, and Sam all wore jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, and jackets. You practically had to force Bucky to wear gloves and a hat. And while he looked like a three-course meal you’d never understand how he could wear so little layers in this freezing weather. Some people just don’t get cold.  

Steve, Natasha, and Yelena took Steve’s car while you, Bucky, and Sam took Bucky’s car. Once you got there you pulled Natasha aside. 

“You know you’re gonna have to help her, right?” You say quietly, watching Yelena fix her outfit. 

“Don’t worry, babes. I’ve already got a plan,” Natasha smirks. You can see the sparkle of mischief in her eyes. 

You arch a brow. “And what kind of plan would that be?” 

“All you need to know is by the end of the day, Kate and Lena will be a couple.” You laugh and shake your head. 

Natasha links her arm with Yelena’s and drags her off in the direction of the face painting station, the one Kate Bishop was currently working. Sam tags along, eager to see what mischief plan Nat has.  

You and Bucky walk hand in hand through the festival, Steve on the other side of you. The three of you making your way to where they keep their homemade goodies.  

“If Nat’s plan goes well, Sam will be the only single person left in the group,” You wonder aloud.  

“Hmph,” Bucky hums. He couldn’t care less.  

“We should set him up,” You suggest.  

“You know, Sam has had his eye on someone for a while now,” Steve speaks up. 

“Who?” You ask a little to excitingly.  

Steve chuckles. “Lila Taylor? Lina Taylor, something like that.” 

“Leila Taylor?”  

“Yeah that.”  

“Wait, isn’t she on the college’s reporter team?”  

Steve nods. “Yeah, she also supports a lot of activist movements and stuff.” 

“Oh cool,” You smile. “I’ll circle back with the girls to come up with a plan and then coordinate with you.”  

“Hold up,” Bucky interjects. “You really think it’s a good idea to go snooping around in Sam’s love life?” 

“Hey! It’s not snooping,” You argue. “It’s more like giving him a little nudge in the right direction.” 

“Well, whatever it is, I want nothing to do with it. Cause if this blows up, it won’t be pretty.” You just roll your eyes.  

You and Steve pick out some jams and spices to use in Thanksgiving dinner before heading off to the face painting booth. There's not much of a line so you wait, looking for Nat, Yelena, Sam, and Kate. When it’s you guys’ turn, you walk up to see Cassie Lang running the station.  

“Hey Cassie,” You smile. “Where’s Kate and Lena?” 

She points behind her. “Back behind the station.” 

“Good for them,” You laugh. You get a bunny painted on your face, Bucky gets a cat, and Steve gets a dog.  

You thank Cassie and Steve heads off to find Nat and Sam, telling you to meet up at the hayride line. Bucky keeps his arm around your shoulders as you walk. You relax and lean into him, letting him guide you. 

It almost doesn’t feel real, being here with him. It's almost like a dream come true; one you never knew you had. You cherish the feeling of being in his arms, the comfort and warmth it brings.  

You, Bucky, Sam, Steve, and Nat meet up by the hayrides. Even Yelena and Kate tag along too. While you wait you make small talk and get to know Kate a bit. You learn that she’s mastered in archery and is taking an engineer course. You could see Yelena relax a little when she seen how well Kate got along with everyone. 

During the hayride, Bucky’s gaze kept drifting back to you. His heart fluttered as he watched you, the way your eyes shine in the sunlight. How your nose scrunched just like his when you laugh and smile. 

He wrapped his arm around you and pulled you closer. He buried his nose in your hair, closing his eyes as your peach scented shampoo filled his nose.  

From the moment he met you, something told him you were different. That feeling was just pushed back and blinded by a false sense of hate. One thing he knew for sure, even if this was just the start of the relationship, was that something was different.  

None of his previous relationships had ever felt this, what’s the word? Special. He just wishes you and him would have come to terms sooner. But later is better than never.  

You guys spend most of the rest of the day doing various activities. Just laughing and having fun, spending time with one another. A lot of people argue over what family is, whether it’s being blood related. Or just knowing someone for a long time, always being there for them and having their back.  

Whichever it may be, you knew this was the family that you would ever need. And while your heart does ache for the family you grew up with, you’d never felt more loved than you do with this family. Right here, right now.  

Before it got too late you guys called it quits. You and Steve headed to the store while the others headed home. You giggled at the sad puppy eyes Yelena had when she had to say goodbye to Kate.  

You and Steve browse the aisles, grabbing ingredients and checking them off the list. You're almost done when you pass the area they keep the turkeys, except, they’re out.  

“Crap, Y/n,” Steve sighs. He looks at the empty display that was once filled with Turkeys of all sizes. “What are we going to do?” 

You grin. “You know how they say women are smarter than men?” You snicker. 

“Yeah, but what does that have to do with the fact we won’t have a turkey for thanksgiving?” 

“Me and Nat picked one up last week, Steve,” you laugh.  

“Oh” 

“Oh!” You gasp. “So, I have a request to make,” you bite your lip. 

“What’s that?” 

“So, you’re cooking the turkey this year, right?” Steve nods and you continue. “Well, I was wondering if maybe we could smoke the turkey on the grill?” 

Steve pauses, considering the idea. “That actually doesn’t sound too bad,” he hums. 

“Right? I mean, any other dish we cook on the grill tastes amazing, so why not try it with the turkey?” 

“Yeah,” he nods. “I think that’s a good idea. So that’s what we’ll do then.”  

Once you have everything, you pay and pile everything in the trunk of the car and head home. Sam and Bucky help bring the groceries inside when you get home, you and Nat put them away.  

Since everyone was tired from the fun filled day and no one wanting to cook and clean the already prepped kitchen. You guys just decided to order some pizza. The TV is playing some cooking show, one that was actually decent.  

Sam and Yelena sat on the floor between the coffee table and couch, munching on the pizza. You and Bucky sat on one end of the couch, squeezed together under one blanket. Steve and Nat sat at the other end, hogging the bigger blanket.  

“So, what all are we having tomorrow?” Sam asks around a mouth full of pizza. Natasha nudges Sam’s shoulder with her foot, playfully scolding him about not talking with a mouth full of food.  

“Well, we’re gonna have turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy, Nat will make her mac & cheese,” you list the dishes out. “Probably some corn too.” 

“What about homemade bread?” Yelena asks. 

“Absolutely,” you smile. 

“You make homemade bread?” Bucky asks, surprised. You nod. “Since when?” 

“Since I was like, 15 or 16?” You shrug. He hums and pulls you closer. 

“Oh, by the way, I invited Kate to come over after. If that’s okay?” Yelena says. 

You nod. “That’s fine, I invited Wanda.” 

“I invited Clint, too,” Nat adds.  

You, Bucky, Steve, and Nat head to bed early since you have to get an early start on cooking tomorrow. 

The alarm on your phone goes off at five in the morning, jolting you awake. Bucky groans and shuts the alarm off, tightening his arms around your waist. 

“I gotta get up, baby,” you whisper. You card your fingers through his hair. 

He buries his face in your neck. “No,” he mumbles, voice muffled.  

You smile softly. “Yes.” When he doesn’t let you go, you pinch his shoulder.  

Bucky grumbles and let's go. “You’re mean,” he pouts. 

You press a quick kiss to his lips. “Here,” you hand him your stuffed dog. “Fido will keep you company.” Bucky smacks the dog away, making you gasp. 

“How dare you!” You pick him up and coddle him to your chest. “It’s okay, I got you.” You kiss its head. 

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Are you really talking to a stuffed animal?” He asks in that deep, sexy morning voice of his.  

You hug the dog closer to your chest. “Don’t listen to him, he’s a big meanie,” you mumble against its fur. Bucky raises a brow. “You up set him, now you have to give him a kiss.” 

“I’m not kissing a stuffed animal, Y/n,” he huffs. 

“What’s that? He has to give you cuddles?” Bucky shakes his head. “Now, James,” you say, trying and failing to sound stern. 

He rolls his eyes again but takes the stuffed dog. He cuddles the dog and gives it a kiss. “Happy now?” You can see the hint of a smile on his face. You nod.  

You quickly use the bathroom, brush your teeth and pull your hair back. You quietly head back to your bedroom to grab your phone and meds. You have to cover your mouth with your head to keep from laughing. 

Bucky had already fallen back to sleep, but he was holding you stuff dog like it was his lifeline. You figured he’d chuck it once you left, but he didn’t. You snap a picture and head downstairs. You see Steve in the kitchen and a lump under a blanket on the couch. Sam.  

“Morning Steve,” you say quietly.  

“Morning Y/n,” he whispers with a smile. 

“Look at this,” you giggle. You show Steve the picture of Bucky to which he laughs. You hear Sam grumble something about being quiet. 

“You should have gone to bed sooner,” you snicker. Sam stuck his arm out from under the blanket, flipping you off.  

You get started on the bread while Steve fires up the grill. You both work in harmony to get things started and prepped.  

Around 8, Sam decided to give up on trying to sleep in. He made himself a bowl of cereal and plopped on the couch to watch some cartoons. By 8:30, Bucky had sauntered down the stairs and immediately plastered himself to your back. 

“Morning princess,” he mumbles into your neck. He presses a kiss there.  

“Morning Bucky,” you smile.  

After about five minutes of him hanging on you, you make him get off. He pouts but lets you go, grabbing a bowl of cereal and joining Sam on the couch to watch cartoons.  

By 9, Nat and Yelena had come down. Yelena joining the boys and Nat helping out in the kitchen. At 11, you and Nat force the three stooges to get ready and clean up. Slowly but surely, you, Nat, and Steve get ready.  

Bucky and Yelena keep up on dishes, so you aren’t running the dishwasher ten different times today. Bucky washes them while Yelena dries and puts them away. You and Yelena set the table, Bucky and Sam had cleaned up the living room by then. And finally, by 1, the table was being filled with food.  

Steve had cooked the turkey and while that was cooking, he did the gravy, mashed potatoes, and stuffing. Nat cooked her homemade mac & cheese and some corn. You had cooked the homemade rolls that, in Sam’s words, were to die for. You had also made some fudge and a pumpkin pie.  

Finally, once everyone sat down, Steve and Nat on one side, you and Bucky on the other, Sam at one end, Yelena at the other. The wine was poured and Steve said grace. Steve cut the turkey and everyone filled up their plates with food.  

While you ate, Bucky rested his hand on your thigh. After a while it started to slide up, his pinky toying with the hem of the long-sleeved dress you wore. He didn’t move it much more than that, just wanting to tease you.  

By the time everyone finished, Kate, Wanda, and Clint had shown up. They were just in time for dessert. You and Kate had fudge while everyone else had pie. After a little more pie and wine, everyone moved to the living room to hang out, leaving you and Steve to clean up the mess.  

You put the food away and loaded the first load of dishes in the dishwasher. Steve threw napkins and various things away, sweeping the crumbs up and taking the trash out. Steve went to join the others while you finished wiping the counters.  

When you finished you headed to the living room, pausing in the archway. Steve and Nat were cuddled on the couch under a blanket, watching a Christmas movie. Clint, Kate, and Wanda were playing some board game. Yelena and Sam were building a Castle out of Legos.  

You smiled. This was your family. This was your home.  

Your smile widened when you felt two arms wrap around your waist. 

“Hey,” you say, your voice soft.  

“You did a good job on the bread and pie,” Bucky says. He starts to kiss your neck. You tilt your head and relax against him.  

“Thanks,” you bite your lip. “Since everyone is preoccupied, what do you wanna do?”  

He hums and slides his hands to your waist, spinning you around. “I think I want some dessert.” You can hear the lust in his voice.  

“Didn’t you already have dessert?” You giggle, knowing full well that’s not what he’s talking about.  

“Not that kind of dessert princess, this one’s more...sweet.” He runs his nose up your neck to nibble on your ear.  

“I don’t know, that pie was pretty sweet.” 

He huffs and tosses you over his shoulder, making you giggle. You playfully grope his ass as he walks, he really did have a nice ass. He kicks your bedroom door shut with his foot and tosses you on the bed.  

Bucky kneels on the bed between your thighs, pushing the loose skirt of you dress up around your waist. He spreads your legs and rips your panties, growl coming from him when he sees you’re already wet. 

“You have got to stop ripping my panties! I’m gonna run out soon.” Your laugh turns into a gasp when he runs his thumb over your clit.  

“Sorry princess,” he mumbles absentmindedly, eyes focused on your pussy.  

“No, you’re not.” 

“No, I’m not,” he agrees with a smirk. He leans down, laying on his stomach between your legs, kissing and nipping the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.  

He makes his way up one thigh before switching to the other, causing you to huff. He presses one last kiss to your thigh before hovering his lips over your pussy. He blows on your pussy, causing you to shudder. He chuckles and runs his tongue through your folds up to your clit. 

You gasp and thread your fingers through his hair. He eats you out like a man starved, like this is his first meal in days. He sucks on your clit, making your hips buck. He throws his metal arm over your hips to keep them still. 

He runs his tongue down to your slit, sucking up your juices. He starts to fuck you with his tongue, he thrusts it in and out. His two-day old stubble rubs against the skin around your pussy, making you close your thighs around his head. 

He brings two fingers to your entrance, thrusting them in and curling them in that way that has you seeing stars. He adds a third one, fucking you with his fingers, his mouth back to sucking on your clit.  

He moans against your pussy, the vibrations running through you and bringing you that much closer to the edge. Your fingers tighten in his hair. With one last curl of his fingers, you cum, moaning his name. 

He helps you ride it out, lapping up your juices. He gives your clit one last kiss before sitting up. He pulls your dress over your head and throws it behind him, he flings your bra in the same direction.  

He pulls his shirt over his head and you run your hands over his abs. You don’t think you’d ever get tired of seeing this man naked. Once his pants are off, he covers you with his body, lips latching onto one of your nipples, his metal hand squeezing and pinching the other one. 

You reach down and grab his cock, stroking him a couple of times and making his hips buck. You run his tip through your folds and line him up.  

“Ready princess?” He pants. You nod. 

He slowly pushes in, burying himself all the way in with one thrust. He laces his fingers with yours and pins your hands above your head. You wrap your legs around his waist.  

When you give him the okay, he pulls out and thrusts back in, starting a slow pace. He buries his face in your neck, sucking and biting, leaving his mark on you. 

His pace starts to pick up, your moans and whimpers like music to his ears. Soon enough he’s pounding you into the bed. Skin slapping against skin fills the room, the air smelling of sex. You bite your lip to keep from moaning too loud, knowing your friends are still right downstairs. 

“Let them hear,” he pants into your neck. “Let them hear I good I can fuck you.” he angles his hips to hit that special spot, making you cry out. “There you go,” he grins. 

Each thrust hits that spot, bringing you closer and closer. The patch of hair above his cock rubs against your clit, adding to your pleasure. Bucky can feel you squeezing him, he knows your close.  

“Come on, princess, cum for me. Be a good girl and cum.” That all you need, the band in your stomach snapping and stars blurring your vision. Your back arches and you moan his name, probably a little too loud.  

Bucky fucks you through it before his thrust grow sloppy and he’s cumming inside you with a groan of your name on his lips.  

He collapses on top of you, panting and still feeling the after effects of his orgasm. You rub his back and run your fingers through his hair as you both catch your breath. He makes a contented sound and nuzzles his face into your chest. 

After a few moments of silence his phone vibrates on the nightstand, indicating a text message. 

He carefully pulls out and rolls over to grab his phone. He makes a ‘hmm’ sound before setting it down and pulling you back into his arms, spooning you from behind, ready for a nap. 

“Who was that?” You ask softly. 

“My mom,” he mumbles into your hair. 

“Oh..is everything okay?” 

“She wants us to come home for Christmas.” 

[tboywriter]

Crush | Angus Tully x reader

pictures not mine, edit is mine gender neutral reader edited: no (might edit in future) warnings: angst(?), swearing, drinking/drunkenness, weirdly-written pov, disappointed "parents", idrk summary: Angus and reader are both pining but all it takes is a little alcohol to fix that. -> Hunham isn't fired, reader goes to Barton a/n: I'm so glad the internet loves this man as much as I do. This movie got me to write again so I'm just glad for that. I might post more for him, idk. Let me know if you want some shorter stuff. I tried to capture Angus's dorkiness but IDK how well that turned out, LOL!

♡ ♡ ♡

“God, that was so nerve-wracking!”

“Really?” He smirked. “You didn’t look nervous when you were up there practically singing your heart out.”

“I mean it! My heart’s going so fast! Here, feel it.” Before he could process what you meant you had already grabbed his hand and stuck it flat against your chest. He could feel the thumping, rhythmically beating faster than usual, but mostly he was fixated on his hand being pressed against your body. His eyes widened a little, staring at your hand that still held his, his mouth parted ever so slightly. 

His face became flushed as you rambled on about the presentation and how you worried about how it might affect your grade. He envied you in that moment, able to be so normal about something as intimate as this. He wanted to move his hand lower, feel more of your chest, but instead you released his hand and he returned it to his side. 

You didn’t notice how quiet he was, trying to stop his mind from going to places he didn’t want you to know about. He nodded along whenever you looked up at him and laughed when you laughed but his eyes flitted between your neck and your lips. 

He noticed he was walking at some point, didn’t even realize he was moving until you stopped in front of the door to your room. You walked inside, turning when he didn’t follow. “Coming in?”

He shook his head, effectively shaking his wandering mind free of dirty thoughts. “Yeah, yeah. What are we doing?”

“I don’t know,” You sigh, flopping on the bed. “What do you want to do?” He stood awkwardly beside you, his hands in his pockets. Laughing, you pat the spot next to you. “Relax, what are you so on edge for?” Right. This wasn’t something unusual. You two often came to each other’s rooms and lounged around. 

He didn’t smile back but he could feel his cheeks heating up. He only hoped you wouldn’t notice– “You okay?” You sat up, leaning against the headboard and staring into his eyes as he sat down across from you. 

“Yeah, sorry, my mind is somewhere else.”

“Yeah? Where else?” You tilted your head slightly, like a puppy diligently listening to their owner.

“Nowhere.” You didn’t press, you never did. He’d tell you if he really wanted to, no sense in annoying him about it. After that fateful Christmas break that brought you two together, though, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was thinking about his dad every time he began to stare off into space.

You’d met because of circumstance. The only two ‘holdovers’ left at Barton academy. Angus’s parents couldn’t be contacted and you couldn’t stand the thought of spending three weeks with the biggest jerk in school. It’d be much nicer to spend the weeks alone, reading in your room– or studying as Mr. Hunham originally governed. Instead you got to, albeit unintentionally, sort out your trauma together. Who knew Librium was such a popular drug?

“You wanna go see if Mary’s got the Match Game on? I kind of just want to sit on the couch.” He nodded.  

Mary was in fact in front of the TV and Mr. Hunham, a bit unexpectedly, was too. They shared the couch facing the screen although sat on each of the ends, as far away from each other as possible. Mary and Mr. Hunham both liked their respective routines: Mary’s was to relax each night with game shows and Hunham’s to be alone… somewhere. 

You and Angus entered the room silently and sat on the adjacent couch, considerably closer than the two adults. Angus grabbed a pillow and handed it to you before grabbing one for himself and hugging it. He leaned back into the cushions, tired eyes lazing towards the television. You had a similar approach, putting the pillow on the arm rest and lying down, legs tucked in. 

When you woke up, you were just as you were when you first sat down. Only now there was a blanket draped over you. You peeked over the blanket to see where Angus had taken up the same position you had on the opposite armrest. He was rubbing his eyes currently, only just have woken up himself.

He winced as he stood up and stretched out. You smiled, his long legs must hurt from being curled into that awkward position all night. 

Mary walked in, fully dressed in her uniform. “Good, you two are up. I didn’t want to have to wake you. Hurry back to your rooms, it’s already 7:15.” You glanced at the clock to confirm. 

“Shit!” Angus exclaimed but then rescinded under Mary’s disapproving gaze. “Breakfast is in fifteen minutes. Mary, why didn’t you wake us up last night?”

She put a hand on her hip. “Why should that be my job? Anyways, I fell asleep too. Only one who didn’t was Hunham who was gone when I woke up.” 

“Fair point.” Turning to you, Angus got caught in his own tracks. He meant to quip a ‘let’s go’ and begin to head back but he was instead met by you, still leaning against the pillow with slightly tousled hair and half-open eyes. 

Mary had left at this point, leaving the two of you to awkwardly stare at one another for a couple moments. You broke it by standing up next to him, slowly and steadily. “Guess we should get ready for breakfast, huh?”

“Yeah. Uh, yeah.”

♡

After breakfast, you and Angus didn’t see each other until your Laws and Government class. He usually sat in the back corner, unseen and unheard, but you preferred the front so you could pay better attention. Instead, a compromise was made, and the two of you now sat in the center of the room. 

The teacher of the class was a highly pompous and old-fashioned old man. His hair was stark white and his cheeks and nose glowed red. He’d almost look like Santa Claus if it weren’t for his contant scowl. Worst of all, he hated uniqueness. If you didn’t kiss up to his highly conservative values then you weren’t getting an A. And you needed an A. 

He was handing back the scores from the oral presentations you had the day prior. The one that made your heart jump out of your chest and into Angus’s unexpecting hands. You both looked at each other, making reassuring eye contact before flipping the papers. He smiled, B+. You, on the other hand, couldn’t be more disappointed. C-? What was the point of putting a minus when anything under a C was failing? You shrank back into your chair, never having got a failing grade before. 

You stuffed the paper in your bag, not caring that it crumpled. Angus reached over and placed his hand on your knee. He didn’t say anything but you appreciated the gesture. He knew how much your grades meant to you. You stuck your tongue out at him and his decent grade but he knew you meant well.

♡

You didn’t usually drink, but tonight was the exception. Was it dramatic to be drinking due to a bad grade? Yes. Did that stop you from taking up Teddy Kountze’s offer to go to an off-campus party? No. Yeah, maybe it was a bad idea to accept the offer of the guy who was a constant ass to you and your best friend, but when he asked you were already in a bad mood. You didn’t even have to interact with him there, just confiscate all the free alcohol and get comfortable on the couch. 

And so you did. When you walked into the house you said ‘hi’ to a couple people you knew and then ran to the kitchen. The smell hit you immediately, there was no second guessing what everyone was drinking. God, people really like this stuff? Whatever, it’s just one night. 

“Angus Tully, call for you.” A teacher Angus didn’t recognize had knocked on his door at nearly five to one in the morning. He groaned, trudging down the hall to the nearest phone. Getting a call was already rare for him but one at one at one a.m. was out of the question. It was even more surprising when he heard the voice of the person on the other end. 

“Tully?”

“Kountze?”

“Thank God, can you get down here?” 

“I already told you, I don’t want to come to your stupid-ass party. Shouldn’t it be ending soon, anyway?”

Teddy groaned. “I don’t want you to come and hang out, I want you to come and pick up (Y/n).”

“(Y/n)? What’re they doing there?”

“I don’t know, man. Just come get them. I don’t know how much he drank but he’s been passed out on the couch for hours. Every time I try to wake him up he just kicks me.” Angus laughed. “Just get him out of here, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. Give me twenty minutes.”

Angus didn’t have a car but he knew someone who did. He knocked on the door to the teacher’s lounge where he knew Mr. Hunham would probably be watching TV with Mary. They seemed to be doing that a lot lately. Mary yelled for him to come in. 

Mr. Hunham nodded. “Mr. Tully.”

“Hello, Angus. You didn’t come all the way down here just to watch TV with us, did you? Usually you’re not alone.”

“I didn’t, actually. I was hoping I could get a ride, (Y/n)’s drunk and needs a ride home.”

Mary frowned. “(Y/n)? I didn’t think they were the type.”

Angus just shrugged. “Usually he’s not but he’s been talking to Teddy Kountze more. I think he’s the instigator here.” He stuffed his hands into his front pocket, shrugging. 

Hunham scoffed. “That boy is a devil.” 

“Oh, shush. He’s just a kid.” Mary scolded. “... even if he is a little asshole.” 

They shared a laugh, followed by Mr. Hunham groaning as he stood. “Alright, I’ll drive. But I'm staying in the car. And tell him not to vomit on my seats.” 

Angus nodded, following his teacher out. “Yes, sir!”

When they arrived Mr. Hunham parked on the street, right out front. Angus got out onto the lawn. “I’ll be right back.” Hunham nodded. 

He saw Teddy first. Teddy just scowled and pointed to a room to the right. You were exactly where Kountze said you would be, passed out on the couch. You had a bottle of something in your arms, snugly held tight against your body. Angus pulled that out first and set it on the table across from you. You grumbled softly, missing the feeling of having something in your arms, and shot your leg out to kick who you thought was Kountze. 

Luckily Angus was just out of reach and laughed in response. “(Y/n), time to wake up.” You lifted your hand to shoo him away but he persisted. “Come on,” he shook you softly. “Let’s go. Mr. Hunham’s outside.” That woke you up.

“Mr. Hunham?” Your eyes got wide. “What’s he doing here?” You sat up and Angus sat next to you, keeping you upright after a bit of sudden dizziness.

“He’s our ride.”

“I’m a bit embarrassed.” You put your flushed face in your hands, leaning your elbows on your knees.

“I’m sure he won’t judge you… Maybe just a little disappointed.” He laughed, standing back up and holding his hand out.

“No, I’m embarrassed with myself. I shouldn't have drank.” Your slurring was becoming more apparent now and Angus was sure you’d start crying if you stayed here any longer. 

“How much did you have to drink?”

You knit your eyebrows together and frowned, obviously starting to get a bit grumpy. “I don’t know. Three? Four?” 

“What? Bottles?”

“Cups.” You nodded towards a red solo on the table.

“Cups?” He laughed. “That’s it?”

You sighed, grabbing his hand and standing up. He couldn’t help notice the way you didn’t let go. Chests almost pressed together from the tight space. “Yeah, It’s my first time.” He breathed in sharply, eyes floating down.

“Really? You’ve never drank before? Mary was right about you.” 

You slapped his arm half-heartedly. “Mary knows too? Who else did you tell!?” He broke from the spell and began to lead you towards the door.

He smiled. “Only the whole school.” You groaned in response.

When you got outside, Mr. Hunham rolled down the window to begin his speech before you even had the chance to get to the car. Angus opened the door to the backseat and helped you in but you grabbed his arm when he began to back up. You tugged ever so slightly and he gave in to the weak show of force, climbing into the backseat with you. You didn’t put up a fight but neither did he. 

“... this isn’t the way to go about life. When you get to my age you…” You nodded along to whatever Mr. Hunham was saying, occasionally adding in an ‘I know,’ ‘You’re right,’ or ‘I’m sorry.’ Angus sat a bit stiffly next to you. You still had his arm in yours, hugging it as you had with the bottle. 

♡

He dropped you onto the edge of your bed before falling down beside you with a groan. He needed a moment before he went back to his room. You, slightly more awake now, slung your legs across Angus’s chest in an awkward L-shape. He let you stay like that for a moment, catching his breath and savoring this while he could. 

“Angus?” You asked softly, tilting your head to peer down at him. 

“Yeah?” He pushed your legs back off the side of the bed so he could kneel beside you and help you take your shoes off. 

“You’re so pretty, do you know that?” He paused, staring across at you, obviously shocked. Your face, though, was completely indifferent. “I mean it, you’re so beautiful. You’ve got perfect hair and perfect skin and perfect eyes. I don’t get it. You must know, right? I hope you know.”

“I-” He tried to speak but what would he say? He was still knelt down, desperately watching your face– which was still staring back innocently. Without thinking, he crawled onto the bed next to you, leaning up against the headboard. You adjusted, too, so you could continue staring at him, head on the pillow. He felt a bit hot under your gaze but he basked in the attention, he only wished he knew how to respond to make this last. To get you to look at him like this forever.  

“God! You’re just so perfect! I don’t tell you that enough but I do think it. A lot. You’re just so pretty…” 

“I don’t think you’ve ever told me.” 

He could see the fatigue slowly taking over your eyes as you kept going. “You’ve got this dopey smile,” You saw his face turn. “Not a bad dopey! Cute-dopey. It’s the kind of smile that makes me want to smile too.” Absent-mindedly you began to reach up to touch his lips, stopping centimeters from contact.

“Um, thank you.” God, that’s what he came up with? 

You giggled, though.“You’re welcome.” 

“I think you’re pretty too. I’ve been staring at the back of your head since I got to Barton. And then when Christmas break happened I was pissed I didn’t get to go home, sure, but man I was so excited when I found out you were staying too. I’m glad I get to see more of you than your hair now.”

“You’re lying.” You accused him but you were smiling. 

“I’m not, I swear!” He couldn’t help but smile too. 

“You can’t have been looking at me since you moved here because I’ve been looking at you since you moved here. And before Christmas, I don’t think we made eye contact once.” 

“Believe what you want,” He laughed. “I’m telling the truth.”

You sighed, brushed him off wistfully, and went back to longing. You spoke as if you’d forgotten the previous few exchanges. Perhaps you had. “I wish I could look at you all the time. I wish I could touch your face and your hair whenever I wanted. I wish I could–” You abruptly stopped and stared him down. Angus had to remind himself again that you were out of it. You looked as if you were trying to make a decision but the alcohol was making it impossible to choose. Angus leaned forward a bit, almost unwillingly. He hardly even noticed his movements until your fingers finally touched his face.

Your eyes flickered down, his did too. Slowly you brushed against his bottom lip. He parted his mouth slightly, cheeks becoming more red by the second. You moved onto his top lip before brushing his cheek. His eyes hadn’t left your mouth. Pulling your hand back slightly you looked up to his messy curls. Reaching up, you grabbed the hair at the back of his neck, running your hands through it. He had to stop himself from making any noise. 

“And you’ve got these big brown eyes, they’re really pretty, you know. I feel all shy when you look at me… like in the way you are now.” You sighed deeply, as if the weight of the world were on your shoulders. “God, Angus. I think I love you.” 

It took everything in him to not swoop down and kiss you right then. He was glad you were drunk so you wouldn’t remember his bright red face, but he also couldn’t help but wish your confession had been a sober one. His mouth was stuck in a small ‘o’ before he realized you were waiting for an answer. “I don’t think this is the right time.”

You cut him off before he could clarify. “What do you mean? Are you dating someone else…? I’ll wait.” Your words made him sputter out a short laugh but your face was nothing but serious. 

“That’s not what I meant. I–” 

You frowned. “Then, what do you mean?”

“I mean,” He brushed some hair from your eyes. “You’re drunk and probably won't remember any of this in the morning. How about you tell me again when you aren’t inebriated?”  

You grabbed his hand, holding it close to your chest. “Why? What if I forget? It hurts too much not to tell you…”

“I won’t forget.” He smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ll remind you.” 

He kissed you on the forehead, needing something to tide him over until he could act the way he truly wanted to. You curled up on your side before looking at him expectantly. He blushed and compiled, lying down next to you but leaving a couple inches between your two bodies. 

He heard you laugh and move closer. He let out something between a moan and a gasp and you smirked in victory. Still, though, he wasn’t close enough. You reached out and grabbed his hand, setting it on your waist. 

“You never told me,” You leaned into his chest. “Do you like me back?” You sounded like a middle schooler talking to their playground crush. Angus was almost unable to respond from the grin that trapped his face. 

“Isn’t it obvious? Of course I’m in love with you too.”

[cherlawa-panna]

Barney Barton META: Childhood

▶The next post: Leaving the circus

This isn't exactly the META, more like a big note with my thoughts about Barney's personality during his childhood. Given that Clint's past, and Barney's past as well, is changed too often in the comics and it's confusing to understand what's going on, I'm going to take the bits that I think are important and squeeze it together. Because if I wanted to put everything in order logically, it would be impossible - his agenda changes too often.

I'll only talk about their lives before their parents' deaths and their first years in the circus. Barney's personality changes dramatically as he gets older and I don't want to write too much in one post.

Dedicated to @carcrash429 and @hawkzeyes. I love you <3

TW: Mentions of child abuse, violence, underage drinking

1. What kind of child was Barney?

The first thing worth noting is that despite the constant changes in Barney's personality, the authors always try to emphasize his role in Clint's story — as one who is "the worse brother," the "rotten" one who causes problems and is a schemer. The bad brother who is the opposite of the good brother. Two sides of the same coin — you know the deal.

Honestly, only Hawkeye Vol.3 showed Barney in some way as "morally better" than his brother. Everywhere else, it's emphasized that he's the worse version of Clint. You know the deal, Clint is the good-shoe guy, and Barney is the worst thing that ever existed. But why?

As we know, childhood plays a crucial role in shaping a person. To truly understand Barney, we need to delve into his early years and explore what kind of child he was. So let's start it, shall we?

- VIOLENT

A recurring trope we see in Clint's childhood memories is Barney teaching him something. I'll mention about this later in the post, but for now, let's focus on the most significant skill he taught Clint, which reveals a lot about Barney himself: he taught Clint how to fight.

(Hawkeye 2012 #12)

Not the self-defense way where you hit someone and run away. Not the stereotypical superhero kind where you fight to defeat someone because you're the good guy and they're the bad guy. No, Barney taught him how to fight in a way that would hurt, how to knock someone down so that they wouldn't be able to stand on their feet anymore.

(Hawkeye 2012 #15 & #21) [rip photo limit]

If someone attacks you, you show no mercy. An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth. Beat them so they won't want to hurt you anymore.

(Hawkeye 2012 #19)

If there’s no one to defend you, you have to defend yourself. Barney started teaching Clint how to fight after Clint attempted to attack their father. It’s clear that Barney is the reason why his brother even knows how to hurt people. However, it was never explained why Bernard knows how to fight or where he learned this skill. And that's understandable; this flashback is about our golden boy, not about his problematic brother.

To understand why Barney might know how to fight, we need to explore his relationship with violence as a child.

He is an example of how trauma can make you angry—at what happened and what continues to happen. As a child still living with his parents, Barney is filled with hatred towards their father. This contrasts with Clint, who, for a long time, was the "good child" trying his best to earn his father's affection and better treatment.

(Solo Avengers 1988 #2)

Bernard was a "smart-mouth brat" who didn’t hesitate to speak back, even though he knew the consequences of doing so. Even better, this little guy wanted to beat his dad up so badly. Clint would never consider acting this way (until the events of Hawkeye Vol. 4, but I'll discuss that later). And it also seems that this wasn’t the first time Barney had behaved like this.

I have a theory that Barney likely had conflicts with other adults as well, mostly because of his statement in Solo Avengers 1988 #2 panel, where he says, "I'll show them all." This implies that he probably didn't want to take revenge against JUST his father. The way I interpret it is that his father wasn't the only person who treated him badly. We can interpret this in different ways: maybe he was talking about his bullies, maybe teachers or anybody who ever treated him badly. Who knows?

Avengers: Roll Call highlights how different their approach to their father was. Barney is explicitly described as being cynical and resentful as a child. In fact, he is described as a bitter kidwho took of his frustation on Clint by bullying him.

And his different approach to Harold is visible. Barney he has never been shown to say anything positive about their father. True, Clint also hated Harold, but as shown earlier, Clint for some time hoped he'd change, whereas Barney never believed in it. He always saw their father as a scumbag.

(Hawkeye: Blindspot #1)

His hatred for his father and how he was treated, naturally influenced his behavior in childhood, which you could see before. And we know he wasn't a "good boy" in any ways. Like for example, in Blindspot, Clint mentions that Barney was never the smarter of the two and believed that sometimes you need to fight dirty.

This panel illustrates that Bernard believed that the best way to resolve conflicts wasn't through calm, peaceful ways but by fighting dirty. It paints him as someone who often relied more on brute force. Because, in his eyes, it is an easier and more proven way to deal with problems. He saw it from his father and most likely from others that it was the best way; it always worked on him and Clint after all. 

Barney is depicted as a child who has no problem with being aggressive or violent, as shown in Hawkeye (2012) even towards his brother. Yes, while his intent was to provoke Clint, stir him up, and push him to act, the fact remains that Barney still resorted to violence.

Additionally, Barney used violence against Clint because he knew that this was the most effective way to provoke a reaction from him. By mimicking their father, he wanted to trigger Clint's deep-seated rage and bitterness—emotions that were already boiling beneath the surface.

Barney knew that Clint, fueled by anger and resentment towards their father at this moment, would respond to this. It’s likely that Barney didn’t spend much time thinking what he should do; he simply resorted to the method he knew best.

Despite his hatred for his father, he still copy him in some ways, and this behavior pattern stayed with him. Barney struggles to express his emotions or wants verbally, something that continues into his adult life. He rarely communicates his thoughts directly, instead, his feelings are often showed through his actions. This tendency is mostly evident in how he expresses his anger, which is often in violence.

He never fully learned healthier ways. While joining the army may have helped him develop some emotional control, his involvement in the Trickshot "business" clearly ruined it lmao.

Before I expand further on Barney's ability to fight, I want to finish the subject about their father (because I started it and I want to finish it. I know it makes this post very chaotic, but I can't help it).

-AFRAID

In Hawkeye (2012) there is a noticeable shift in the Bartons brothers. Barney becomes more calm, while Clint got increasingly bitter. It’s almost as if they’ve swapped their attitudes.

This is particularly evident in a scene where Clint attacks their father.

Initially, I thought Clint was solely focused on his father during this scene. However, it wasn’t until I noticed Barney’s eyes—fixed on Clint—that I realized he was also looking at him. He would first glance at Barney and then shift his focus to their father. Remember this, because it will be important later.

So let's focus on Barney in this moment (because this is a post about him, duh). Specifically when he says "Clint."

While we might interpret this as a warning to prevent Clint from doing something stupid, because Barney might have known it would upset him and make him do something reckless. But based on Barney's reaction afterwards, you can get the impression that it was the first time when Clint did something like that.

At that moment during dinner, Barney probably shouldn’t have know that Clint would react this way. So this "Clint" warning doesn't make any sense. Given that Clint was known to be a well-behaved child and Barney was his polar opposite, we have to look elsewhere for an explanation. And I'll rush you with my theory.

Since we know from All-New-Hawkeye, Barney was the one who always stood up for his brother (for example: Barney took the blame when they were suppose to work, but they sneaked in to see a perfomance)-

-then Clint might have been looking at Barney, hoping he would speak up against their father. Since he has been "obedient" so far, it’s reasonable to think that Barney might have developed a habit of standing up for him. After all, Barney didn't care about their father's opinions and hated his guts, so he could also speak on Clint's behalf just to piss their father off.

But when Clint realized that Barney had no intention of that, he reacted himself, which, as I mentioned earlier, was something he had never done before.

That's why I think the "Clint" could be interpreted as "Clint, not this time." Especially since Barney appears resigned to me.

Now you might be wondering: Why didn't Barney react? Why did Barney change his attitude? The answer is simple! This whole situation happened after Clint lost his hearing.

Let's take a closer look at this: Barney in Hawkeye (2012) is much calmer than in earlier comics showing him as a child. Here, we see that he's trying to take care of his brother (like when he came to Clint's room after the whole incident and brought an ice pack for the bruises). I think he stopped being so "rebellious" at home to not upset their father. Probably out of fear; if their father was capable to beat Clint so badly that he lost his hearing, what else might he be capable of?

So it's only logical for Barney to temper his normal behavior.

-A Troublemaker

Let's return to the topic of fighting: We can see that he learned how to fight so he could defend himself from his father. And due to his previously mentioned behavior, we can get the impression that he engaged in fights very often as a child.

He must have learned these skills from somewhere, so it’s clear he picked them up outside the home.

How did he learn? Who did he learn from? I don't know! It was never shown or mentioned where he learned all this, but I have theories.

Personally, I think Barney got himself in the wrong crowd during his childhood. Why?

Barney's main 'thing' in the comics is that he was in his brother's shadow and wanted to outshine him. And seriously, this is one of the main reasons why Barney hated his brother when he was in Dark Avengers lol. I honestly believe that their parents, especially after Clint lost his hearing, focused more on the good behaved younger brother, which may have led Barney to seek attention elsewhere. As a troublemaker, Barney likely engaged in stupid and dangerous behavior to gain the approval of others—behavior that fits his character trope. And I'm talking about drinking alcohol and stealing candy from the store.

Barney was shown twice drinking alcohol without flinching. While it’s possible he started drinking occasionally because their father did the same, I believe it’s likely that he also picked up this habit from other kids.

Adult Barney in the comics is portrayed as a charismatic guy with notable leadership skills. That's why I think that he definitely had a lot of childhood friends and wasn't a loner. However, he probably was not as popular as he wanted and due to his difficult personality (his bad temper), he certainly did not have stable friendships. This means there’s a good chance Barney fell in with the wrong crowd and because out of desperation to be liked, he would definitely do stupid things.

This kid was good with people. He was a fast-talker and had the ability to easily persuade people. Like, he successfully convinced Carson to take in two orphans from an orphanage. C'mon, he clearly had skills.

Barney is a manipulative bastard, who had a natural knack for playing people like a fiddle. I don't think I need to provide much evidence for that; after all he was in the mafia and held a high position there as an undercover FBI agent. That says it all.

The beginnings of his manipulating and persuading tactics began in childhood. We see in that infamous panel how he used his brother to do his chores. Of course, Clint started it on his own, hoping it would prompt Barney to stop being such an asshole. But you can bet that Barney did everything in his power to ensure Clint continued to do his chores. You can see it in his smirk.

(Solo Avengers 1988 #2)

From Avengers: Roll Call, we also know that Barney was bored and unloaded his anger on Clint by bullying him. Does this make Barney a villain evil brother? No. Based on other Clint's memories, he wasn't abusive, he was simply an asshole. And Clint, desperate for any form of affection, ended up in a this mix with Barney. It's a recipe for disaster.

Another intriguing detail worth mentioning is that Barney clearly had a thing or two on his conscience. We can see from the interaction between him and Jacques when the old man tried to persuade him into stealing.

"But you, you're a scrapper, Barney. Something tells me you know what it takes to survive"

So we know he wasn't an innocent child then. And Jacques was aware of this and knew that Barney would not refuse such offer. Of course, it can be said that he knew survival techniques from the orphanage, since as we know, the life in there was not sunshine and rainbows. But as we know from their life, their hardest lessons in survival came from their father. For years, Barney has learned how to play dirty to survive, even more than Clint. As Barney himself reflected in Hawkeye: Blindspot, he was the "Tricky One."

Did he steal before? Possible. Maybe he stole things in the orphanage. Or maybe candies from the store like I said before. No matter what, we know that he wasn't a good child.

-ENVIOUS

Since we’re discussing Barney’s involvement with stealing for circus, it’s worth noting that his agreement was fueled by jealousy. Because Clint got more attention and could do something better than him. This jealousy was never about wanting to be a performer/archer himself—contrary to what some people in fandom might think, Barney never showed any desire to be a circus attraction like his brother. In fact, when Swordsman offered them the chance to be his assistants, Bernard immediately refused.

He was simply envious of the attention Clint received and didn’t care about the circus itself. This jealousy made him more willing to engage in thefts—he was driven by a desire to be better than his brother in something. And well, being a tricky was one of the few things Barney excelled at.

2. What kind of brother was Barney?

-A TEACHER

The fact that Barney took care of his brother is already known from the post. He taught him everything from silly things like tossing a coin into a bottle, to more practical skills such as driving a car (possibly even a motorcycle) and how to talk with women. This shows that Barney genuinely cared for Clint and didn't want him to be a loser in life. Which makes sense since Bernard was in some way his caretaker after their parents deaths.

-A PROTECTOR

But more of him being "a caring big brother" was shown in All-New Hawkeye. While I don't like Hawkeye All-New, I do appreciate how it delves into Clint and Barney’s past.

Barney is the one who goes to their foster father and took the blame, because he did not want this bastard to hurt Clint.

He was also the one who offered to earn money for Clint so his brother could focus on learning archery instead and wouldn't be kicked out of the circus.

He repeatedly shouldered every responsibility and tried to protect him.

As previously mentioned, when Barney first got involved in "work" for Carson, his initial motivation was jealousy of the attention Clint was receiving and a desire to prove his own worth. However, as time went on, Barney became less enthusiastic about the thefts but felt compelled to continue. He knew that stopping could lead to them being throwed out from the circus—the only place where they could call a "home". And despite everything, he was determined not to drag Clint into this mess too.

In Hawkeye Vol. 3, it’s noted that Barney encouraged Clint to pursue his education ever since they escaped from the orphanage. I interpret this as Barney recognizing that life in the circus was neither secure nor ideal. He was not emotionally attached to this place, viewing it merely as a temporary situation. Barney wanted Clint to have more opportunities beyond the circus, which contrasted sharply with his brother belief that the future was bound there.

(That’s why I dislike the trope in fanfics where Barney is portrayed as someone who would let Clint to die because of circus. NO. While joining the circus was initially Barney’s idea, they stayed because it was their only option at the time. Barney would always choose his brother over the circus. He only left because he was fed up with living that way and saw no way to get Clint out, since Clint was too stubborn.)

What’s interesting to me is that Barney seems to have stopped stealing for the circus once he became an adult, considering their conversation after Clint was offered the chance to join to the "business".

(I KNOW that this comic was made before All-New Hawkeye and that’s why Barney reacted this way. BUT I’ll interpret it however I want, and there's nothing you can do about it.)

I don’t know why Barney stopped, but perhaps when he became an adult, he was able to take on more demanding jobs in the circus and no longer had to steal to pay for their upkeep (plus, Clint started performing and earning money). And as we can see, Barney doesn’t want Clint to steal. Even though Barney had do the same thing as a child to keep them in the circus, he didn't want Clint to fall into that same trap.

-A CARETAKER

FINALLY, I’d like to shift the focus to Barney’s role as a caretaker for his brother, particularly during their childhood, even before they ended up in the orphanage and Barney had to fully assume the role of guardian. Specifically, I want to delve into Barney’s responsibilities a caretaker when Clint lost his hearing.

I don’t have comic panels to back up my words because the comics don’t delve deeply into Clint’s past as a deaf child. However, I’ll draw on real-life knowledge to support my points. Although I’m not a sibling of a deaf person, but I have deaf friends and have read a lot of psychological studies to better write the dynamics of Clint in his family lol.

Sometimes a hearing sibling, often under parental influence, takes on the roles of caregiver, rehabilitator, or translator for their deaf sibling. They're often actively involved in therapeutic processes, taking on numerous responsibilities related to helping their deaf sibling in their everyday life.

Why do I believe Barney had such a role? The answer is simple: Barney knows ASL since he was a child.

I know it doesn't immediately meant that he had this kind of resposibility. But hear me out. We don’t know if their parents learned ASL and how Clint learned it, but one thing is certain: Barney learned it with him. Depending on how we imagine the situation, Barney could have acted as a communicator between Clint and their parents, as well as with the outside world. I've read about cases where deaf kids learn sign language, and hearing siblings often pick up the language better than their parents. This often leads to the siblings acting as translators between parents and deaf child.

Another evidence is that he was also present during Clint's visit to the doctor.

Barney probably really wanted to be present during this, but why did his parents let him? I find this strange. Maybe they just expected Barney to help take care of his brother?

This certainly made Clint more dependent on his brother.

Clint clearly was dependent on him, since he always consistently influenced Clint's life decisions. Why did Clint run away from the orphanage? Because it was Barney's idea. Why did Clint join the circus? Because it was Barney's idea. Why didn't Clint leave the circus when he discovered its true nature? Because Barney said it was the only way they would survive.

Why did Clint later want to leave the circus despite his reluctance? Because Barney wanted to leave.

As Barney put it in All-New Hawkeye, "Where I go, Clint goes." Clint's life revolved around his older brother for many years. Mainly because after their parents' death, he only had Barney. But even before that, we can feel that Barney had a significant role in his life.

For instance, we see this during the moment they received the news of their parents' passing.

Barney only needed a few seconds to comprehend what happened before he immediately focused his attention on Clint, ignoring his own feelings at the moment. Maybe he wasn't fully aware at the time, but he felt from that moment on he would have to take care of Clint completely.

We need to be aware that Barney wasn't an ideal brother for such a role. He was full of anger, bitterness and of his own problems that he couldn't fully address due to their situation. He was just a kid himself. Barney was thrust into the role of a parent and teacher when he himself needed a parent and teacher. His attempt at "raising" Clint was a series of trial and error because he had no idea what he was doing.

But despite being a troubled child, Barney did a good job taking care of Clint, at least considering what Clint says about him in Blindspot.

I know many fans are angry at Barney for leaving Clint, but I see it as a moment when he finally did something for himself. He accepted that Clint was mature enough to decide for himself. Besides, him leaving Clint's life was good for Clint because if he had stayed, his brother probably would have never left Carson (or he would have joined the military with him) and never found himself. Clint relied on his brother for so long and he needed to be on his own for a while to find his place in the world.

3. The summary

Barney was hot-headed, extremely bitter, and was the most angry kid ever. But he also adapted well to the situation imposed on him and tried to help Clint adapt as well. We know anger often stems from fear, and to me, Barney is a scared child who doesn't know what to do but still wanted to do something.

And that's all I wanted to write about his childhood. Was Barney an angel? No. Was he the worst brother in the world? Also no. Does he need therapy? Absolutely.

[avengerscompound]

The Tower - College

The Tower: College - One Shot

Series Masterlist

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

Word Count: 2867

Warnings:  none

Synopsis:  Riley and Pietro are both preparing for college. Their parents all have ideas about where they should go.

Author’s Note: This is not a request but rather the first co-written piece with @fanficwriter013 since The Queen of Asgard. I do still have some requests to write and you can still send in your requests.

College

Set between The Queen of Asgard and Family

Nothing ever really prepares you to parent a teenager.  You can have all the love and all the money in the world and you’ll still feel blindsided by the challenges thrown up.  You’ll need to comfort them through fights with friends, drive them to extracurricular activities you’d never even thought of, grit your teeth while they date people you don’t like, and try to keep it together as their hormones go wild.  We’d been learning on the job and sometimes we struggled, but we were blessed with loving and affectionate kids, and we all wanted the absolute best for them.

We crossed each hurdle as we came to them, sometimes stumbling but always getting up and always supporting each other and them as we did.

Riley and Pietro were about to start applying to colleges, and we were helping them decide which ones they’d most like to attend.

Of course, Tony wanted them both to attend M.I.T.  He was very vocal about it.  Neither was particularly techy, but they humored him when he organized a private tour for them.  Riley, Pietro, Tony, Clint, Nat, Bruce, and I went to Boston to look around campus.

We spent the morning looking at lecture theaters and labs.  This afternoon we’d talk to professors about courses, majors, and what they’d need to get in.  For now, we were taking a break at a taco place just off campus.

When we were all seated with our chips, guac, and drinks, (I’d gotten a Paloma which I’d never had before and was already really enjoying) Tony looked at the kids.

“So?  What do we think so far? It’s good, huh?” he said. “There’s a lot of great stuff. There’s a study space that gives out free bananas.  How can you complain about that?”

"Bananas aren't a selling point," Clint said, shaking his head.

"I don't know, Dad, bananas sound good," Pietro said. "They're a good brain food."

"I think I'd like to see some other schools. Don't want to put all my eggs in one basket" Riley said, picking at her order of tacos.

“I mean, I’d also say that we can afford to buy bananas if we wanted them,” I added.  “That is not a thing that is outside our budget.”

Riley smothered laughter and Pietro shook his head.

“It’s more the principle of the thing,” Tony said.  “They care about their students and provide them with a calm study area with free brain food.”

“I think the main thing here is if they can study what they want to study, Tony,” I said, taking his hand.  “We’ll speak to the professors and figure it out.”

Tony huffed and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.  We’ll see other schools.”

“We’re taking it all in though, Dad,” Riley assured him. “We just want to know what all our options are.”

"Yeah, Tony. All the options." Clint said, wagging a taco around in front of him.

"It's okay Tony. They'll figure out what they want. I'm sure MIT is a top contender out of the schools so far," Bruce said.  "Maybe they'd like my alma mater,” he added quietly.

"It's on the list, Dad, don't worry," Riley said. "We've even got clown college on the list for Papa Clint," she joked.

“Maybe they’d like to go to school at UCLA,” I added.  “That’s where I went.”

Riley’s eyes lit up. “Living in LA would be amazing!”

“No!” Tony said, quickly. “No way.  Nope.  You’re not going all the way across the country for college when all the good ones are over this side anyway.”

“And here I was thinking that I’d apply for Oxford,” Riley teased.

“Wash your mouth out with soap,” Tony said, pointing a fork filled with sizzling beef at his daughter.

She broke down into hysterical giggles and choked on her taco.  I reached over and patted her on the back as she grabbed her drink and tried to wash the food down.

“Well, there’s always Columbia.  That’s where I got my first job and it’s where I met your mama,” I said.

"Yeah, Columbia is an acceptable school," Nat said. "There aren't many that I approve of."

"Hey, I'd be happy with clown school if that's what you wanted," Clint said around a mouthful of tacos.

"I mean, Pietro did go through a magic phase," Bruce said.

“Oh yeah, the guy who has nightmares of clowns would be happy if his kids became clowns,” I teased.  “But yes, I agree, the most important thing is that you guys are happy.  Right, Tony?”

Tony sighed and rolled his eyes.  “Fine.  Yes.  The most important thing is that you’re both happy.”

“Gee thanks, Dad,” Riley teased.

“We are happy, mom.  And we’re happy to look at all your alma maters,” Pietro said.  “We’ll pick the best ones for us.  I promise.”

"Guess it's up to me to start planning all the visitations," Tony said, pulling out his phone. "All the alma maters, all the Ivy leagues. Anywhere else?" he asked.

Both Pietro and Riley had ideas of what they wanted to do with their lives.  In fact, what they really wanted to do was go to Asgard to learn about life there, as Riley was the heir to the throne.  There was plenty of time for that though.  They were both young even by mortal years, and Riley was no mortal.

Riley took after her biological father in a lot of ways.  She’d been offered athletic scholarships at several schools but there was a lot of debate about the ethicality of supers competing on sports teams.  Some schools had made leagues just for them.  She’d turned them down just to avoid the controversy.  She’d decided she wanted to learn political science.  She hoped it might help for her time as Queen.

Pietro, our little empath, was tossing up between art and psychology.  Much to Tony’s chagrin, that meant that Stanford was the top choice for both kids, and we did take a trip over to San Francisco to do a tour.  We also did Berkley while there, which was Pietro’s second choice and Riley’s fourth.  We did Harvard which Tony was a little more happy about due to being much closer.  Harvard was Riley’s number two, and Piet’s number three.  We did both Princeton and Yale, but both kids agreed that if they ended up at either of them, it was just because it was the only yes they got, and yeses weren’t as hard to get when you had money and brains, something the twins were both blessed with.  Finally, they checked out Grayburn College in Harlem because of Bruce, though everyone was a little worried about how Bruce’s legacy might end up affecting their time there, and Columbia for me.  Columbia was still fairly high up for both their subjects and had the benefit of being close to us.

We strolled along the campus, toward the library after having been taken around the law buildings and the psychology one.  Today it was me, Riley, Pietro, Tony, Natasha, Clint, Steve, and Tommy.  Tommy had not wanted to miss out on whatever fun his oldest siblings were having, but it was pretty obvious that he had big regrets about coming.  He was hanging off Tony’s arm and whining quite a bit.

I stopped on the lawn in front of the library and looked at my assembled family. “We can go in in a second.  But this spot here is very important.  You know why?”

Natasha smirked and moved in close, wrapping her arm around my waist.  “This is where your mother ran straight into me and we both went flying.”

“Oh my god, Mom,” Riley groaned, hiding her face.

"Yeah, it was on that day that your Ma almost killed your mother," Clint joked.

"And obviously the rest is history," Steve said.

"Yeah that's how we got you guys," Tony said, ruffling Tommy's hair.

“Yuck, Dad,” Riley said. “He’s too young to hear things like that.”

“Hear what?” Tommy asked.

“About how moms and dads are always smooching and making babies,” Pietro teased.

Tommy dramatically threw his head back.  “Eww…” he groaned and we all burst out laughing.

“Do you want to check out the library?” I asked, pointing to the building.

“Yeah, let’s do it,” Pietro agreed.

I led the way into the library.  I felt good.  The kids both seemed to like the University.  I wasn’t sure they’d pick Columbia, but it seemed like it was on the list.  Besides it was nice getting to be back on campus, it was a very special spot for me.

When the kids had checked out all the different university campuses and spoken to all kinds of people about the pros and cons of each school, they had put in their applications.  They both had their preferences.  Pietro wanted to stay close so even though Stanford was the better school for what he wanted to study, he picked Columbia as his first choice.  I was delighted to have one of the kids attending the school I’d worked at.  Especially given it was the place where I first met Natasha.  It felt like fate.

Riley was never going to be happy with just that though.  She wanted adventure more than she wanted an education.  I think if she’d thought about it in any real way, she might even push to go to college overseas and I was sure that if the option ever came up to do an exchange, she’d jump at it.  In the meantime, her top choice was Stanford - the top college for her chosen field and as far from us as she could get while still in the continental United States.

We weren’t too worried about them not getting in.  They were both smart kids and also - cards on the table - we were very rich.  An unfair privilege of being rich is that money can open doors that aren’t always open to everyone else.  It wasn’t an absolute definite, but with the two things together we were all confident they’d both be celebrating their acceptance into their chosen schools.

They had agreed to wait to log in and check their offers until we were all around.  It was killing them, especially Riley.  On the day, Tony had gotten out the champagne and had the cooks making their favorite meals. 

The twins sat at their laptops, fingers hovering over the enter keys as we gathered around them. 

“Are you all ready?” Pietro asked.  

"Oh my God. This is killing me!" Clint said, tapping his fingers against the side of his leg. 

"We know they're going to get in, you shouldn't be surprised," Nat said, patting Clint on the shoulder.

"But the suspense. You know I can't do the waiting," Clint whined. "Let's go."

The twins hit the buttons symultaneously, and for a moment the room was silent while they read the letters from their top choices.  At almost the exact same time, they jumped up.  Riley squealed with delight, a noise I don’t think I’d heard from her since she was little, while Pietro whooped and pumped his fist in the air.

“I’m going to Stanford!” Riley yelled.  “I’m going to Stanford!”

“I’m into Columbia!” Pietro added.

We all moved in, hugging them both.  “Yes!  Congratulations!” I said as I tried hugging both kids at once.

"One at a time, El," Nat said, hugging Riley.

"You both did it," Clint said.  “You got the schools you wanted. I'm so proud of you."

"This is great," Bruce said, nodding his head.

Tony got up and clapped his hands. “Mocktails,” he said.  “And food. It’s a party.”

I went with him to the bar and pulled out the mixers to make mocktails with.

“Can we get Ethiopian?” Riley called.

“No!  Pizza!” Pietro argued.

“We haven’t done a huge international feast for a while,” I said.  “We should do that.  Just order some of everything, like in the pre-kid days.”

“You used to have international feasts?”  Riley asked.

“Oh yeah,” Tony said. “We just ordered takeout from a dozen places.  We haven’t done that since we moved out to the compound.  We couldn’t get food delivered there, and when we moved back here, we just started eating the same thing.”

“Can we all pick what we want?” Billy asked.

“Yeah of course.  We’ll all order our favorite foods and then share them all,” Tony said.

The younger kids squealed excitedly and started jumping around.  “I’m gonna get pancakes,” Tommy yelled.  He ran over to Tony and slammed into him, hugging him around the waist and looking up at him.  “Can we get the choc-chip cheesecake pancakes from the Pancake Hut?”

Tony smoothed Tommy’s red hair back and squished his cheek.  “Of course you can.”

“Okay everyone,” Steve said.  “Let’s look at the apps and see what we can find.”

This was our biggest food order yet.  It took a lot to feed this family.  There were eighteen of us, and several had super-human appetites, but when we all ordered the same thing, we didn’t over-order.  This time we did.  It was like we were catering a party where we all wanted to share.  It would be eaten, Bruce alone could finish what the rest of us couldn’t, but it was still a shocking amount of food with an even more shocking bill.

Along with several stacks of various pancakes, a large platter of Ethiopian food, and a half dozen pizzas from Ray’s, we got eight different Indian Curries, a huge selection of Chinese dishes, sushi, fried chicken (Lousianna, Nashville, and Korean style), Korean toast, corn dogs, and tteokbokki, Brazilian, several dishes from the Cheese Cake Factory for some reason, a selection of things from Katz’s, several kinds of pasta including a three cheese gnocchi, fettuccine carbonara, and eggplant parmigiana, two different cheese fondues, two different hot pots, and a variety of dishes from an organic vegan place.

It was a lot and it didn’t fit on our table even in its fully extended state, and we had to bring up some tables and put them around the long table where we all sat.

The younger kids were so excited about all the different things they could try, and I was genuinely worried they would make themselves sick.  They couldn’t even sit still because if they were sitting, they weren’t trying anything new.  Tommy was a blur as he ran around and around the table nibbling at everything he could reach.

“Alright, alright,” Steve said.  “Let’s all take a seat.”

“This is a big special celebration,” Sam echoed.  “You’re gonna need to listen to a Steve dad speech.”

“No…” all the kids whined at once.

“Oh yes,” Natasha said.  “You know how it works.”

“Fine,” Riley said.  “Go on then, Dad.”

“Wow, thank you for the enthusiasm,” Steve joked.

“I love your speeches, Daddy,” Rose said, smiling at him.

“Suck up!” Sarah teased.

“Okay, okay, settle down everyone,” Steve said.

“Yeah, this is serious,” Clint teased.

Steve huffed and shook his head.  “Riley, Pietro, you two were such a blessing for us. I think we were all a little directionless before you came around.  We all had plenty of things we’d die for, but not so many to live for.  You give us that.  And I do realize that’s a lot to put on some kids, I hope you both haven’t felt that pressure growing up.  Suffice it to say, we all adore you and we have been thankful every day since you were both born.

“I know that us being your parents hasn’t always been easy.  You’ve had to grow up in the spotlight not just because we’re who we are, but because of how many of us there are.  I hope we did alright and didn’t mess you up too much.  I can tell you this for sure, we all love you so much and we are so proud of you,” he said.  “This is such a big turning point for you both.  You’re not our little kids anymore.  You’re adults.  You’re taking your first real steps into the world.  This is big.  You’re going to have the whole world's eyes on you.  And I can tell you that doesn’t matter.  It certainly doesn’t matter to us.  But I also know that that kind of pressure can affect you.  I want you both to know; you can never let us down, we always have your back, and we know you’ll do amazing.  We trust you.  We love you.  Congratulations.”

Riley and Pietro got up and came over to hug him, and Steve engulfed them both in his broad arms - quite the task considering they were both as tall as he was.

“Thank you, Dad,” Pietro said.

“See how much your kids love you,” Tony said. “They didn’t even say anything about how rambling you got on that one.”

Steve laughed. “Oh shush,” he said.  “You do better.”

Tony held up his hands in surrender.  “I would never,” he said.  “Come on everyone.  This is a party.  Let’s celebrate!”

With that, the lights dimmed and music started to play, and we spent the night celebrating the next big step in our oldest children’s lives.

~END~

[hard-core-super-star]

Heyhey, may I request something like a reader who is Clint's daughter, sucks at archery and thinks she's a disappointment to Clint. Seeing this situation and not really knowing what to do, Kate decides to help reader with some archery lessons. The lessons really help reader, but at the same time they are a distraction and the BIGGEST test of self-control not to kiss Kate while she talks about archery and invades personal space to show how it’s done.

Like– who would be 100% focused with Kate so close?? 😭😭😭

can you see right through me? [K.Bishop]

pairing: kate bishop x barton!reader

summary: you're notoriously bad at archery and somehow even worse at keeping yourself together around a certain kind-eyed archer.

warnings: none, just fluff with a side of romantic tension; kate being a flirt without realizing; very platonic touching [...not]; me pretending like i completely understand how archery works

wordcount: 1.7k

a/n: for every one fic i write where kate is confident and cocky, i have to write another one where she's dorky and awkward and confident and cocky. that's just the law of the universe. this request was a lot of fun to write so thank you. hope you enjoy <3 [also, it would take a ridiculous amount of self-control to stay focused around kate's goofy little smile]

* * * * * * *

You wouldn’t say you’re the world’s worst archer but you’re definitely close to the top of the list. It’s something that shouldn’t bother you, and maybe it wouldn't if you were anybody else. Unfortunately, you’re Hawkeye’s oldest daughter and you also happen to be the absolute worst at archery.

Even your youngest brother has better aim than you and he’s not even strong enough to pick up a bow.

Your dad swears your lack of skill doesn’t bother him but it certainly bothers you. Especially when it results in him taking on Kate Bishop as his protege instead of you. 

The worst part is, Kate’s incredibly sweet so you can’t even hate her for being everything you’re not. Her love for archery is genuine, and so is her admiration for Clint.

And, okay, fine, maybe she also happens to be attractive and caring and far too charming for her own good.

You hate to admit it but you have the biggest crush on the brunette archer and it’s only gotten worse since she kindly offered to teach you how to properly shoot a bow. Your dad complained, not because he didn’t want you to learn, but because he was offended that you seriously thought Kate would be a better teacher than him. (You didn’t have the heart to tell him the real reason you accepted the brunette’s offer)

So, against your better judgment, you’ve been hanging out with Kate every day, letting her talk your ear off about the ‘proper techniques’ involved and what the best bows for beginners are. She’s clearly more excited about all of this than you are but getting to see her so often isn’t something you’re going to complain about.

“y/n, you’re not even listening.” Kate’s teasing tone brings you back to the matter at hand. Well, more like the bow in your hand.

“Sorry,” you mutter, hoping she can’t notice the nervousness in your stance. 

She does, unfortunately for you, because she’s far too observant despite her scattered attention span. What she doesn’t realize, though, is that she's the reason for said nervousness. 

“You’re shaking too much,” she comments. “Let me help you.”

You open your mouth to tell her you don’t need her help but all your words die in your throat the second she steps closer to you. 

She’s trying to be helpful, you know that, and yet she achieves the complete opposite. Her front presses up against your back as her hands land on top of yours to stabilize your movements. “Relax. You’re trying to guide the arrow, not control it.”

You attempt to listen to her advice but relaxing is the last thing on your mind right now. Every muscle in your body is acutely aware of the brunette’s presence which causes your heart to beat faster than should ever be possible. The position you’re in doesn’t help and soon, you really do start shaking from the tension of drawing the arrow back.

She counts down for you, something that should not be as attractive as it is, and you finally let go of the bowstring and shoot the arrow into the target. A target that you miss by several feet.

You can’t even be disappointed in yourself because you’re too busy trying to regain your breath the second Kate finally steps away from you. 

“Hey, at least you’re not hitting the wall anymore!” She says in what’s now become her signature ‘cheering you up’ voice.

It makes her sound ridiculous but it also makes you smile so you don’t have the heart to make fun of her for it. “I appreciate it but it’s going to take years for my aim to get better than this.”

“Oh, come on.” Her exasperated words are accompanied by an eyeroll and a step toward you that makes your breath catch in your throat. “You've already improved so much. Give me one more week and I promise you’ll be hitting that bullseye.”

You take advantage of her proximity to hand the stupid bow back to her. “You're doing that thing again.”

“What thing?” She asks, her eyebrows furrowing as she tilts her head slightly.

“The thing where you get too confident right before totally falling on your ass.”

She does her best to look annoyed but the pink hue that tints her cheeks gives her away far too quickly. “Keep talking like that and I’m canceling the lessons.”

“Wow, what a shame.”

You manage to successfully break her this time and she bursts out laughing, the sound setting free hundreds of butterflies inside your stomach. There are a lot of things to love about Kate and her laugh might be at the top of the list. (Right below her smile and her incredibly comforting hugs…not that you’ve ever noticed or anything.)

“Alright, I’ll make you a deal,” she says while getting into position to do some shooting of her own. “If I hit the bullseye three times in a row, we’re staying for fifteen more minutes.” 

“And if you miss?” You ask, knowing damn well the chances of her missing are close to zero.

“If I miss…I’ll take you out to dinner instead.”

You’ve never wanted her to prove you wrong more badly than at this moment. You don’t say that out loud, though, you don’t even say anything. You just shake your head at her and do your best not to give away how much you adore her silly antics.

The thought that she’s genuinely flirting with you crosses your mind but you instantly push it away, too afraid of getting hurt to entertain the idea for too long. You’ll take what you can get and if all Kate gives you are stupid flirty jokes then that’s all you need. Hoping for more can’t end well when it comes to the brunette.

Your eyes are glued to her frame while she nocks and draws her first arrow, her muscles straining through the fabric of her purple shirt. You know she knows you’re closely watching every move she makes and the self-assured smile that graces her face has you thinking much different thoughts.

Thoughts that are shot right out of your mind as Kate hits the bullseye not three times in a row but five because she’s an annoying overachiever when she wants to be. You’d be pissed if you were unaware of the way her eyes light up with genuine excitement at her success.

“We get it, you’re the world’s greatest archer.” Your dad would disown you if he ever heard you speak those words but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him…or at least that’s what you hope.

“Don’t sound so jealous, baby.”

Your legs shake the tiniest bit as you approach her again, taking the bow back into your hands with a huff. “Whatever. Shouldn’t you go fetch your arrows or something?”   

“You sure you can handle shooting on your own?” It comes across as another one of her usual teasing comments but her eyes give away her sincerity. She truly does want to help you do well even if it means you won’t need her help anymore.

“You sound like my dad. I’ll be fine, Kate.”

The comparison distracts just enough to stop her from putting up a fight. She walks away toward the target full of her arrows and you walk a few feet away to find a new target to inevitably miss.

You go through the motions Kate patiently taught you, taking in slow breaths and forcing yourself to focus. You’re not fully focused on yourself though. Rather, you visualize the kind-hearted archer and repeat what you’ve seen her do a thousand times at this point.

Time seems to slow down as your eyes hone in on the bullseye and you let the arrow fly. It soars through the air and misses the bullseye by a few inches. But you finally managed to hit the target instead of the wall behind it or the floor in front of it.

You actually did it.

And there’s only one person to thank for that.

“Kate!” You throw the bow down onto the ground in your excitement, your eyes searching for the brunette only to find her already looking at you with the most gorgeous smile on her face.

“You did it!”

She opens her arms for you and you waste no time in running toward her, crashing into her body with a laugh. Her arms slide down your waist and before you know it, she’s picking you up and spinning you around in a giddy haze.

You wrap your legs around her waist without a second thought before looking down at her. “Thank you,” you whisper, your voice slightly breathless from your moment of celebration.

She instantly shakes her head, strands of her soft yet messy hair waving around in the process. “That was all you, y/n. I knew you could do it.”

You’re ready to argue back and insist you’d be lost without her but you make the mistake of letting your eyes wander for a second too long.

Maybe it’s the excitement or the adrenaline still pumping through your veins or maybe it’s Kate herself. You don’t know what it is that makes you work up the courage to finally kiss her, you just know it’s the only thing you want right now.

So, you do it.

You lean in and press your lips to hers in a way that borders on desperate. If she notices, she has no complaints about it because she kisses you back just as passionately. And nothing has ever felt as right as this.

You reluctantly pull away from her and attempt to catch your breath. Something that completely fails due to the way Kate is looking at you. She’s got that soft look in her eyes that can only mean one thing. “So…I’m guessing you like me?”

Yup, there it is. 

“You’re a dork.”

“Hmm…maybe.” She sneaks in another kiss that you happily accept. “But this dork would love to take you on a date. If you want.”

“I do want that…but only if you’re paying.” You joke before she sets you back down on the ground.

“Golddigger.”

“Shut up.”

[in-my-loki-feels]

I have to ask about Clint/Loki/Mobius for the WIP folders!!!

I'm so glad you did because I'm obsessed with this idea but have been quietly vibrating about it in my corner. 😆 So thank you for the ask! <3

I first teased this idea here.

The premise is: Clint (in his Ronin era) ends up in the custody of the TVA and runs into Loki and Mobius. Clint is furious that of all the people who died in the Snap (esp his family), Loki somehow survived (even though he was told by Thor he had died).

Loki is shocked because to him, it's felt like barely a couple of weeks since he was last in NY, working alongside Clint, who he may have formed an attachment to and definitely slept with. But Loki and Mobius are together at this point.

Whenever this is set, there's no pruning so it's not clear what to do with Clint, who is filled with a lot of anger and despair and a desperate need for that all to go away. Loki feels pulled between the feelings he still has for Clint and the desire to help him, and what he now has with Mobius, mixed with the shame of what he did in the past. Somehow, they end up in bed together.

In my head, there's a perfect fic in all of this that deals with grief and comfort and forgiveness and giving up control and being vulnerable with the person you love and trust who loves you regardless of your flaws. And it would be amazing if someone else wrote it and I could just read it, but since this feels very much like a "just for me" treat, if I want to read it, I have to write it. 🙈😂

Here is another snippet because I never tease this one:

“How do you do it, huh? I heard you were a frost giant but it feels more like you’re part cockroach, to survive this many times.”  “All right, that’s enough,” Mobius said, when Loki flinched. He was smiling, but his eyes were hard. That look softened when he glanced at Loki. “This was a lot easier when we plunked them down in front of a Miss Minutes video.” He turned his attention back to Barton. “Our old explanation doesn’t really work anymore—things are in flux here now—but long story short, you’re a variant. There are other timelines out there with Clint Barton; you’re one of many.” “The Loki you knew died at the hands of Thanos,” Loki forced himself to say. The footage from the Sacred Timeline was still fresh in his mind. “That was no trick. I’m merely a variant, like yourself.”  Barton eyed them both. “And you work here? How the hell did that even happen?”  “It’s…a long story,” Loki said, with a sigh. “More importantly, we will return you to your timeline and you can carry on with your life.”  “You know me,” Barton went on, as if he hadn’t spoken. “If there really are an infinite number of me out there, how is it that you know me?”  Loki winced again. As much as he’d wanted to confront his past, he hadn’t imagined it would be like this.  “My path was very much the one of the Loki you knew,” he said. “However, mine diverged after the Battle of New York. I was picked up by the TVA and brought here.”  “How much like the other Loki?”  There was no getting around it then.  “The same,” Loki said, meeting Barton’s eyes. “To all intents and purposes, that was me.” He swallowed. “And although you may have difficulty believing me, I am truly sorry for what I did when I first came to Midgard.”  Barton’s eyes narrowed. “What I did” could cover a lot. Loki suspected they were both thinking of specific moments. He wondered if Barton would give voice to them with Mobius here.

From this list.

[sjsmith56]

Level 42

Summary: One shot. A former guard from the Siberian HYDRA facility tells Bucky a secret that sends him back to the structure to find someone.

Length: 5.7 K

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Nick Fury, Thor, Yelena Belova, Clint Barton, Bruce Banner, OMC, several OFC, OCC.

Warnings: Memories of mistreatment, forced cryostasis on non-super soldiers, lost love, anger, angst, Bucky making a decision that you may or may not agree with.

Author notes: For some reason I had a bit of an earworm moment that spurred me to write this story.  I heard Level 42's Something About You and kept hearing it or seeing the number 42 in weird places.  So this is what came from all of those different exposures. I thought long and hard about Bucky’s decision at the end. In a sense, his former handler paid for the decisions of those before him.

🎶 🧊 ❤️

The drive to the prison wasn't a pleasant one for Bucky, as he sat in the passenger seat of Sam's truck.  Even though he appeared to be tapping his fingers to the music playing from his phone, Sam could see the tension increase the closer they came to their destination.  They were only going there to see someone from Bucky's past, his HYDRA past, on a request from the person.  At first, when the request was initially made, Bucky said no.

"The man tormented me," he explained to Fury, who called him into his office to pass on the official request.  "He was abusive verbally, physically, and mentally.  I don't want to see him."

"Well, he says he has information for you and only for you," replied the director.  "It could be a way to get some closure on that time in your life."

"He has nothing to say to me that I want to hear," insisted Bucky.  "Nothing."

"Alright, I'll notify the prison administration that you refuse to see him." 

That was a week ago.  Two days ago, another request was sent to Fury, but there was an addition to it; the phrase "Level 42."  When Fury said it to Bucky his face hardened, then he sat forward, boring his eyes into the man.

"Just those words?"

"Yes.  What do they mean?"

Bucky sat back, his face a mask.  Then he nodded.

"Alright, I'll go," he said.  "But not alone.  I want a witness.  Sam."

He stood up to leave.

"Barnes, what does Level 42 mean?"

For a moment, Bucky hesitated, then he shook his head and walked out.  Fury looked up at the ceiling.

"Friday, what does level 42 mean?" 

The answer, the name of a British jazz-funk band from the 1980s meant nothing to him and considering Barnes was the Winter Soldier then, likely didn't mean anything to him, either.  They got their name by taking the 42 from The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, where it was said to be the answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe and Everything, which was also the title to the third book in the series.  As Fury read the description of the third book, he saw something that troubled him and wondered if that had anything to do with it.  Leaning back in his chair he thought for a moment. 

"Friday, go through the HYDRA files.  Look for anything involving a truth drug called Level 42.  Bookmark any other references of that term.  Mark for my eyes only."

If he found anything before Bucky and Sam left, he didn't say.  They got in the truck and began the long drive to the prison, driving instead of flying because Bucky wanted the time to prepare himself to see Josef Czerny, a Czech born guard for HYDRA. 

"You want to talk about him?" asked Sam.

"No." Bucky's terse reply wasn't a surprise.  Then he let an audible breath out as he reconsidered.  "He was a guard in Siberia, a nasty one.  Bigger and heavier than me, with a streak of sadism every time I was being punished for my mistakes.  He was there the day I returned with the serum that I killed Howard Stark for.  Wasn't in the enclosure with the five other soldiers that received it.  Good thing for him as he would have been dead after they went on their killing spree.  After Karpov left to avoid retribution for wasting the serum on them, he left as well.  Just went AWOL.  Until he was found during the roundup of people after the release of the HYDRA files, driving a delivery truck in Florida.  That's all I know about him."

"What's this Level 42 he mentioned?" Bucky turned to look at Sam.  "Fury mentioned it."

"I don't want to say anything until I talk to Czerny," said Bucky.  "He could have said it just to get my attention.  Chances are he wants to taunt me."

It was early evening when they arrived at the prison.  Officially, it was after visiting hours but Fury pulled some strings so they could see the man on their arrival.  Their check-in meant Bucky underwent more scrutiny after setting off the metal detectors with his arm.  When Sam pointed out that Bucky didn't need weapons to wreak havoc at the prison the warden extracted a promise not to do anything violent.  With a scowl that seemed to fill the room, Bucky promised, and they were escorted to the prison hospital. 

"He was in a super max prison but he's in the final stages of cancer," said the warden.  "A couple of weeks, maybe only days is all he has left." 

Stopping in front of the door to the man's cell, he signalled to the camera to unlock it then stepped back.  The lock buzzed and both Bucky and Sam stepped inside a spartan room with a hospital bed, nightstand, IV stand, and several monitors hooked up to a being who was obviously a husk of what he looked like before.  His thin frame reminded Sam of the pictures of concentration camp survivors after they were discovered.  What was most prominent on him were his eyes, large and hollowed out.  They focused on Bucky as soon as he entered the hospital cell, then the man's lips parted in what was supposed to be a smile but there was nothing friendly about it.

"Soldat." Czerny's voice was a raspy whisper.  "I knew Level 42 would get your attention."

"What do you want?" asked Bucky, his voice and presence appearing strong. 

"No comment about me getting my just desserts?"  The former guard cackled, then wheezed, setting off some of the alarms on his monitors.  He coughed then noticed Sam.  "You brought a friend?  Didn't trust yourself not to kill me now that I can't fight back?"

"That was your thing," replied Bucky.  "I recall many times that you kicked me hard enough to make me piss blood for a week, but I couldn't fight back.  I don't kill anymore.  Now, what do you want to tell me?"

The man's face changed, revealing a face full of regret and, surprisingly to Sam, acceptance.  He nodded, then looked up to the window that allowed him to view a small patch of blue sky.  With a shaky hand he gestured to Bucky, who brought a chair closer.

"I'm going to Hell," said Czerny.  "I've already seen it, and nothing will keep me from burning for eternity.  I have no excuses for how I was when I was in HYDRA other than I liked to be in power over people, especially someone like you.  Tormenting you was a pleasure because I was jealous of you, jealous that even though you were the Fist of HYDRA you still fought the programming, you still tried to stay human.  I lost my humanity long before I was recruited and even though I told myself I was better than you, I knew deep down I wasn't."

He stopped talking and looked up at that blue patch of sky again.

"That's it?  That's all you wanted to say?"

Bucky looked disappointed, then began to stand up.

"She's alive."  Czerny still looked at that patch of sky, deliberately not looking at Bucky.  "They didn't kill her.  Instead, they put her into cryostorage.  She's still in one of the lower levels of the Siberian facility, forgotten except for a few of us who knew she was hidden there.  In the drawer is a letter.  Take it, find her, before it's too late." 

Bucky opened the drawer of the nightstand and drew out an envelope.  Although the envelope was addressed in English to Czerny, it was obvious it was written by someone whose first language wasn't English.  Sam stood up, looking over Bucky's shoulder as he pulled the letter out.  It was written in another language, Russian, maybe.  As Bucky read it, his face changed, then he looked at the former guard.

"Why now?  Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"Hate and pride are powerful shackles," replied Czerny.  "I'm just a coward.  I'm sorry."

All sorts of emotions played over Bucky's face as he put the letter back in the envelope and slipped it inside his jacket.  For the longest time he looked at the dying man.

"I can't forgive you for what you did all those years," he finally said.  "But if I find her then I'll hope that your end comes quickly and without pain.  That's the best I can do."

"It's more than I deserve."

He nodded at Bucky then looked up at the window again, focusing on that blue patch of sky.  The other two went to the door, waiting for the click of the lock to let them out. 

"What's in the letter?" asked Sam, but Bucky just shook his head.

It wasn't until they were back in the truck and had driven several miles that Bucky told Sam to pull over at a roadside rest area.  He got out of the vehicle and went over to a picnic table, sitting on the top portion of it with his feet on the bench seat.  Taking the letter out he read it again then looked at Sam with tortured eyes.

"She was a Widow, sent for extra training with me.  Her mission was as an infiltration agent; to get into the inner circle of a prominent American and take him out.  It was before the Stark mission but the only thing I know for sure is that it was the 1980s.  She had one of those Walkman cassette players and she listened to a lot of music by a band called Level 42.  She loved the music, and I would hear it from the hallway as I approached the training room.  It was permitted as being part of her cover but there were times she would repeat the lyrics to me.  I had been out of cryo for some time, so I was more myself then.  Some of the lyrics came to have a lot of meaning for me, for us."

"You fell in love with each other?"

Bucky nodded.  "I didn't even know her name.  Wasn't allowed to know so I called her Level 42."  He smiled.  "I liked the music, too.  It was jazzy and there were times she asked me to dance, my style of dancing.  She'd look at the camera that always watched us and say she had to know how to do it right for the mission, so they let us continue.  Until we took it too far."

"You were caught, weren't you?"

"Yeah."  He looked at the letter.  "We have to find her, Sam.  She made me feel human."

"Okay."

"That's it?  No argument, no trying to talk some sense into me?"

"No argument," replied Sam.  "She was important to you and if she was brave enough to flaunt HYDRA rules then she likely had a mind of her own."

The next day

Fury looked at both men.  "Is she still alive?"

He had obviously found an answer to his question about Level 42.  The letter was in Bucky's hand, but he handed it to his boss, knowing he could read Russian, even as the super soldier stated what it said. 

"According to this letter the chamber is still functioning as the power is still on at the facility.  But it won't be for long as the Russian government is planning to destroy it.  Something about removing symbols of oppression."

"More like removing evidence of their complicity," grumbled Sam.  "We can revive her, right?"

"She's not supposed to be enhanced like Rogers or Barnes was but theoretically, yes," replied the Avengers director.  "I suppose you want the quinjet.  Who else do you want on the mission?"

The two Avengers looked at each other.  "Yelena, Thor and Clint, if he's willing," blurted Sam.  "With a sorcerer contingency to transport the cryochamber here if we can't thaw her out before we have to get out of there."

"We better send Banner or Cho to provide medical treatment if anything goes wrong," added Fury.  "Wheels up in two hours.  I'll call Clint personally and get a sorcerer to bring him here."  The two men turned to leave his office.  "Barnes, wait."  Bucky stopped.  "You're sure that she's not enhanced."

"She wasn't when we were together," he confirmed.  "Whether they gave her serum when they took her away isn't known, unless you found something."

Fury met Barnes' stern gaze with his own.  "It's not clear.  They may have given her something, but I don't know if it was a new form of serum.  I was looking for something else in the HYDRA files but had increased the search parameters for any reference to Level 42.  It mentioned her nickname.  It's possible they wiped her memory."

"Understood.  If she is out of control both Thor and I will be there."

He left, hurrying to catch up to Sam.  Both men prepared in the locker room; Bucky changing into his tactical suit, while Sam put his inner layer of clothing on.  The flying suit would go in its travelling case, and he would put it on just before they arrived.  The door to the locker room opened and Clint entered.

"Well, Laura wasn't thrilled, but I needed a change of pace," he said.  "What's my role?"

"Firepower and back-up pilot," said Bucky.  "We're trying to rescue someone put into cryosleep involuntarily.  It's possible she received a serum before she went in but it's not clear.  Thor and I may have to restrain her while Sam and a doctor work on her.  Yelena is also coming, because of her background as a Widow."

"Another Widow?"  Clint looked from one to the other.  "How long has she been frozen?"

"Since the late 1980s," said Sam.  "We don't even know her name.  Bucky only knew her as Level 42, like the band."

Bucky was grateful that Clint didn't say the obvious; if she wasn't given the super soldier serum her chances of survival weren't good.  An hour later they were on the quinjet and in the air.  He told them everything he remembered about her, and how the guard who was now dying had given him the letter about the power still being on. 

"You're sure he was on the level?" asked Clint.  "This isn't HYDRA trying to get you back?"

"Fury checked satellite footage of the site," said Bucky.  "There has been some minimal activity there, but they look like people assessing the structure.  They wore jackets with the name of a demolition company.  I figured Sam could stay outside and monitor any comings and goings while the four of us enter the facility to locate her.  Then we call for Sam and Banner to head down.  If we can defrost her there, I would prefer that but if we have to carry the chamber out Thor and I should be able to handle it.  Yelena and Clint can pilot either way."

"Why should we help her?"  Yelena had barely said anything since being placed on the mission.  "The Widows of that time were well indoctrinated.  I should know as Dreykov always talked about them being the good years when the Widows did as they were told."

"Level 42 was permitted to listen to Western music, on a Walkman.  I was to train her in more forms of physical combat, as well as in stealth manoeuvres.  She pushed the limits of our working relationship, inviting me to dance with her.  She openly justified it as having to know my style of dancing as part of her infiltration technique, yet I danced to 1940s music, not 1980s.  Among other things, she shared the song lyrics with me, lyrics I still remember."  He looked at Yelena with understanding.  "Yes, most of the Widows then were hard core spies and assassins but she was different, and she made me feel human.  Please, help me save her."

She made a face, but nodded in agreement, so he hugged her, surprising everyone.  As the flight continued, he went over the layout of the facility from what he could remember.  Hopefully, they hadn't changed anything since then.  For the remainder of the flight, he sat quietly, looking at the letter.  With an hour left before their arrival, they began to get ready, checking weapons, while Sam put the suit on.  Bucky wore a backpack with several foil thermal blankets, as well as some heat packs whose temperature could be adjusted.  He had also packed some soft clothing, sweatpants and sweatshirt, as well as some medications to strengthen the heart rate.  They all confirmed their comms pieces were working.  Landing just outside the entrance into the facility, they noticed there were no other vehicles nearby and the door was wide open.  Still, they entered with care while Sam kept watch outside, and Bruce monitored them from inside the quinjet. 

"According to the letter, she is in a storage room 10 levels down," said Bucky, as they approached a stairwell.  "I have no memories of being down there, so I don't know if any defensive or protective measures are in place.  Go slow, be alert, and watch your backs."

They took the stairs down, although Clint wanted to see if the elevator would work, in case they had to bring the cryo chamber up.  It did, although it was slow, and the others reached the 10th level down significantly sooner than he did.  The lights didn't come on automatically down there, either.  Some turned on by a switch but when they didn't, they had to crack some lighting sticks, which added to the sense of sickly doom inside the corridor.  Bucky could barely manage his anxiety as they carefully moved down the hallway, testing each door and opening it to check inside.

"I can smell death in here, Yasha," commented Yelena, in Russian.  "There are many ghosts present."

Bucky said nothing, just stopping then staring at a door at the end of the hallway.

"There's a hum coming from that door," he stated.  "It's barely audible but it could be a cryo chamber in conservation mode."

They ignored the other doors, heading straight to the one at the end.  Finding it locked, Bucky kicked it open, and they saw several cryo chambers, five in all, each of them with a figure inside.  The surface of the glass was so frosted over that it was difficult to tell whether each one contained a man or a woman. 

"Did the letter say there were others?" asked Thor.

"No, but there should be some documentation of who they are in the file cabinets," replied Bucky, going to the first chamber and using the warmth of his right hand to melt some of the frost to look inside.  "This chamber is older than the others.  There's only a view hole for the face.  Puts it in the 1950s or 1960s."

Yelena was at another one, looking for any sort of identification on it.  "They have letter and number designations, but it is prefaced with the word Prisoner, so this one wasn't a volunteer for HYDRA."

"We should awaken all of them," said Clint, then he shrugged when the others all looked at him.  "They're going to bring this place down.  If we don't, they die."  He pointed at the oldest chamber.  "That must weigh at least a ton.  I don't know if you two want to be hauling that many cylinders up.  There's no way we can carry all of them in the quinjet.  Might need that portal."

Bucky went down the row of chambers, clearing away the frost on each of them but not looking closely at the inhabitant, then stopped at the fourth of the five.  Something caught his attention and he stared at the face inside, then cleared away the identification plate.

"This is her."  He took a deep breath.  "They put her in a cryo suit, but she'll be soaking wet once the thaw process is complete.  Clint, you and Yelena go back up.  Send Sam and Bruce down with extra emergency coverings and all the dry clothing they can gather.  I'm going to start the thaw cycle on her."

They headed back to the elevator while Bucky started the procedure then pulled his backpack down and brought everything out.  Thor went over to the filing cabinets, looking for the designations on the folders that matched the designations on the chambers.  He found three fairly quickly, when he heard the sound of the chamber with Level 42 opening.  Bucky was already undoing all the restraints on the woman who seemed barely responsive.  Her body was limp, and she was covered in a film of icy water.  Finally freeing her Bucky laid her on a mat that had automatically inflated when he unrolled the thin roll it had been.  He placed a thermal sensor on her forehead, noting her body temperature was 30 degrees Celsius.  Quickly he covered her with a thermal blanket, wrapping it around her, then placed several heat packs under the mat, allowing it to spread the heat evenly through the mat.

"Do you need my assistance, Buck?" asked Thor.  "I have found three of the five files."

"Find the other two," said Bucky.  "So far, I've been able to manage and if Sam and Bruce bring more supplies down, they can take over while I awaken the others."

Noticing that the unconscious woman was starting to shiver Bucky quickly pulled her cryo suit off, using his knife to cut into it, remembering how hard it had been to remove it in one piece from his own body.  Quickly, he pulled the dry clothing over her, then added socks on her feet and a stocking cap on her head, before tucking her back under the thermal blanket.  As her eyes fluttered, he placed his right hand on her cheek.

"L'ubímaja [beloved].  It's me, your Soldier.  I have found you.  Can you hear me?"

She groaned then her eyes fluttered open and she muttered, and he spoke softly to her again in Russian.

"Your vision will return.  You've been in cryosleep, radnaja [darling].  Just breathe.  I am here with you."

Sam and Bruce, both of them stopping in shock at the site of five chambers, advanced towards Bucky who told them what he had done.  The thermal sensor had warmed up to 31 degrees Celsius.  Bruce took a stethoscope out to listen to her heartbeat and lungs, then nodded at Bucky. 

"Keep her warming up slowly," he said.  He gestured at the others.  "What's their story?"

Thor came, having found the final two folders, dropping them off in front of Bucky.  Quickly, he picked up Level 42's folder and opened it, reading the contents that were written in Russian.

"She was treated with an experimental serum, then placed in cryosleep in November of 1989."  He let out a tortured breath.  "She's been here ever since.  Damn them."  Flipping through the others he opened the file for the oldest chamber, then sucked in his breath.  "Bastards.  That chamber on the left contains the daughter of one of Stalin's enemies.  She was only 17 when they kidnapped her.  They injected her with the same serum I was given but they didn't even wait to see the results.  They just froze her."

He got up to look at her face in the small viewing port.  Bruce looked through as well, while Sam continued to monitor Level 42's progress.  Bucky's face went grim.

"I don't want to even try resuscitating her here," he said.  "These old chambers were tricky.  We should take her back and try in a controlled medical environment.  Theoretically, it would be equivalent to how Steve was thawed out.  If she's had the serum her body should be able to handle it.  There's no mention of the memory device being used so her personality should be intact."

"I agree."  Bruce gestured to the other three.  "What about them?"

Bucky opened the next file, comparing the photo inside with the woman in the chamber, which seemed to be an earlier model as well, like a hybrid between the first and third one.

"Imprisoned for saying no in 1974," he said, scowling again.  "She rebuffed the advances of a high-ranking HYDRA official who wanted her to be his mistress.  She was already married.  They killed her husband, then he froze her with the plan to unthaw her when he was old and she was still young, to prove his control over her life.  Except, he made a mistake and was executed in 1981.  They just left her in the chamber as someone else's problem.  No serum."

"We take this chamber back then," said Bruce.  "I don't even want to try without medical backup."

They stopped at the third one, which contained a child, a boy.  Both men looked at each other in disgust, then Bucky read the file, his face changing into something more sympathetic as he read it.

"Okay, this is unusual.  How he got away with it, I don't know.  Son of an industrialist who was high up in HYDRA.  The boy has cystic fibrosis.  His father paid millions of rubles to freeze him in the hope of someday there being a cure.  Is there one?"

He looked Bruce who shook his head slightly.  "Not really, although the drug therapies are more effective and their life span and quality of life have improved greatly.  No serum in this one?"  Bucky shook his head.  "Okay, we take his chamber back, but his chances aren't good."

They stopped in front of the final chamber and Bucky flipped the folder open without looking inside at the person.  His face became dark, and only then did he look at the man inside the cryo chamber for a considerable time.  Then he closed the folder, his mouth set in a grim line.

"A HYDRA handler.  In fact, he was my handler ... the one who took her away.  This was his punishment for losing control of the Asset.  He doesn't deserve to live as none of the handlers respected life.  I know that as a doctor, you have an oath, but if we leave him here, that wouldn't violate it, would it?"

Bruce let out a significant breath.  "No, but what if the authorities here decide to thaw him out?  Do you want that?"

"No, but there's something I can do to make it certain he wouldn't be found but he wouldn't be dead, either."  Bucky looked at the doctor steadily.  "I promise I won't kill him."

With a nod of his head Bruce agreed then he activated his comms piece and contacted Avengers headquarters to find out if the quinjet could handle the weight of three cryo chambers.  With the word that it was better to use a portal he requested one and promised to let them know when they were ready.  Bucky was kneeling down next to Level 42, who was breathing easier, but still seemed to be a little out of it.  Speaking softly to her in Russian, Bucky smiled when she answered one of his comments in flawless English, asking her own questions.

"You're free?" she asked softly.  "HYDRA and the Red Room are gone?"

"Many years ago," he answered.  "I have many of my memories back, including my name, James Buchanan Barnes.  I'm American.  I only know you as Level 42.  Do you remember how we danced?"

She smiled.  "You were a good dancer, James.  My name is Renata Irina Volkov.  How long have I been frozen?"

A sigh prefaced his answer.  "36 years, Renata.  I'm not the young man I was then but still not too old to have a life with you, if you wish it.  When your vision returns, you can decide, radnaja."

He looked at Bruce, who was still monitoring her temperature and heartbeat.

"Renata, you can go back in the quinjet, if you want the time to talk," he said.  "You're very stable.  I'll go back with the other three chambers."

"Sam, would you help Renata up to the quinjet while I take care of something down here?"

His best friend smiled, then picked her up, carrying her in his arms to the elevator and taking it up.  Bruce called for a portal, then took four of the folders, leaving the one with the handler behind.  Thor moved the other three chambers through the portal, returning before it closed then looked at Bucky who still studied the chamber that held his old handler.

"How can I help, Buck?" he asked. 

"I want to bring down this portion of the room around it, so that it's obscured," said Bucky.  "A demolition team would just see debris and leave it untouched as it wouldn't be safe for them to even set charges in here.  He'll live like this in the darkness forever.  It is what he deserves."

Just before they began to destroy the room, they cleared away the supplies that Sam and Bruce brought down with them to return to the top.  Then Bucky checked the functions on the cryo chamber before he and Thor began pulling the room down around it.  Satisfied, they picked up the supplies and took the elevator up to the top.  No one had approached the facility while they were there.  Boarding the quinjet they stowed the supplies then Clint and Yelena started the aircraft, lifting it up into the air.  Renata and Bucky looked at it then he helped her back into a seat, gently belting her in before fastening his own restraints.  They began the long flight back to the Avengers compound, listening to the band, Level 42, on Bucky's cell phone.

Three months later

"Yuri, Irina, come," said Mariya, the woman who had been frozen in 1974.  She watched as the 91-year-old who looked 17 held her hand out to the 57-year-old who was now a healthy 11-year-old boy and hanging upside down from a tree at the Avengers compound.  "Hurry, Yasha and Renata will be here shortly.  We're having a ...."  She looked at Bruce.  "What do you call it again?"

"Barbecue," he said, smiling at the dark-haired woman.  "Everyone's coming for a barbecue."

She flashed him a smile that filled him with warmth.  Her charms were obvious.  No wonder the HYDRA official wanted her. 

"Barbecue," she repeated.  "Come or you don't get ice cream!"  Turning, she walked back towards the main building with him.  "So, you're satisfied with our health, enough to allow us to leave, if we wish.  What if, we don't wish to leave?  What if, we like living here?  Yuri and Irina need a parent.  I'm old enough to be their aunt."

"Their attractive and young-looking aunt," interjected Bruce.  He noticed Thor waiting for them outside the building with Love.  "Wouldn't have anything to do with a 1500-year-old Demi god, would it?"

"Perhaps," she said, her cheeks pinking up.  "He has seen much and says we can split our time between here and New Asgard.  I don't want to go back to Russia.  There is nothing for the three of us there, not anymore."

"Well, you'll all be welcome, since I have to keep tabs on your health anyways.  With Irina having super soldier abilities I'm sure they'll want her to consider joining the Avengers.  Yelena and Bucky both say they'll work with her for training, if she wants it."

"Mariya," smiled Thor, putting his arms out. 

She hugged Love first, who stuck her tongue out cheekily at her father, then she hugged Thor.  The other two rushed up. 

"I win!" Yuri jumped up and down.  "I'm faster than you."

"Sure, you are, little man," said Irina, winking at the others.  "Nothing to do with the blood transfusion from me that cured you."

"Maybe," he admitted.  "But I still won."

They entered the building, seeing Bucky and Renata inside, holding hands.  Yuri ran for her, laughing when she picked him up and tossed him in the air.  Cheek kisses were given to the other two survivors of the cryo chambers then they headed towards the elevator, going up to the roof top terrace where the barbecue was happening.  The celebration of their 3 months of freedom after the years in the cryo chambers had been in the works for a couple of weeks.  It was a milestone moment for them and for Bucky, as well, looking with love on Renata as she made the rounds with the other survivors to Clint and his family, Yelena, Sam, and several others who had been involved in their medical care since their arrival. 

As he watched, his cell phone vibrated and he checked the messages, seeing one that had him nod his head.  The Siberian facility was officially demolished, charges placed on all levels, then set off in a sequence that collapsed the interior structure of the site.  In a year's time when his old handler's chamber started its pre-programmed thawing sequence, he would be trapped inside a tomb of rock, hundreds of feet inside the ground under the Siberian wasteland.  He would still be alive, for a time.

Bucky had no regrets about that, his last unofficial hit.  As he told Bruce, some people didn't deserve to live.  Placing his phone back in his pocket, he looked up, alerted by the laughter of Renata, Mariya, Irina and Yuri, as they posed for cell phone pictures.  Four lives saved because of a guard who finally let go of hate and told him a long-held secret.  He looked at the blue sky above them and thanked Josef Czerny one more time.  Then he stepped forward and joined the others.  Life was so much more enjoyable now.

Is it so wrong to be human after all? (Line from Something About You, by Level 42)

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One Shots Masterlist

[mad-hunts]

both matilda and barton were keenly aware that joker was watching them like a hawk. so, although she was tempted to pull away from him, his daughter decided she had just one more thing to do. matilda very subtly tilted her head in such a way that their 'unwelcome guest' wouldn't be able to tell that she was very quietly whispering to him; and at such an audio that even barton barely heard it, in fact. but the important thing was that he'd caught it for she had told him something in code that meant 'just say the word' in relation to joker. it didn't exactly take a rocket scientist to figure out that there wasn't something quite right with their new comedian friend, barton thought.

and how ironic that was for him to think, because unbeknowst to him, arthur was talking about how weird he was acting with what could potentially be one big thorn in his side: the batman. a sigh came from him as the only thing he could think about right now was that the unruly golden ringlets atop his head were going to get so poofy because of the rain. it only appeared to be getting worse and one way this was illustrated was by how the light teal of the also almost doll-like dress matilda wore was becoming a darker hue of teal, which was kind of bad news for her, as it wasn't a cheap dress. it was made out of satin. but between holding onto barton a little longer to maintain the façade that she was upset, or pulling away early and thus breaking the illusion, she chose the first option.

by this time, barton was fully hugging matilda back and looked down at the ground, trying to just listen to her to see if any of this distress could be genuine or whether it was all an act. he maneuvered a hand up to cradle her head then with a shocking amount of gentleness. barton didn't let his guard down, though, as the image of joker's service animal in the corner of his eye reminded him that he wanted something from them. he didn't know what, but if it wasn't obvious before, then it was now. ❝ hey... you're acting like something seriously bad happened, lovebug. you've got to tell me what's going on, ❞ matilda finally pulled away from barton and she covered up both sides of her face at first, before rubbing her hands down it.

matilda silently listened to joker for a moment. no one's threatened you... well, that was pretty untrue, actually. she had one hell of a shiner around her left eye. ❝ honestly, from my friends leaving me stranded in there and ending up with this from some jackass who wouldn't leave me alone, i guess you could just say that i'm... really glad to be out of there. i mean, i tried to leave as soon as you texted me earlier, but this guy stopped me on the way out. i think he must've been as drunk as a skunk or something because he accused me of stealing from him, which i obviously didn't do, ❞ barton knew that that whole story was probably a lie, but he did know that he wanted to kill whoever hit his daughter; no matter what circumstances they were under.

barton was basically seething with anger when he saw the bruise around matilda's eye. ❝ oh? so, you're telling me someone hit you, in there? what'd he look like? and before you say anything, i just want to talk to him, ❞ that was a lie if matilda had ever heard one. she chuckled in feigned surprise at that, raising both of her eyebrows at once. ❝ oh my god... dad. i took care of it, so you don't need to do anything. in fact, please don't. he can get really scary when he's mad, ❞ matilda directed this comment towards arthur before she finally noticed the small puncture wound on his palm. from there, she forcefully took his hand and she barely looked up at him to say, ❝ it seems like you have a big family. what's that like? is it as chaotic as it sounds, or it is nice? ❞ she offered him a small smile. ❝ eh, well, you know that saying ' packed like a can of sardines? ' it's pretty much like that. mm, the dancers up on stage tonight were good, i'll give them that. ❞

matilda was lying through her teeth about the dancers. but the less that arthur knew, the better. his daughter finally opened up the umbrella that had been loaned to her by barton and gestured towards the other to take it. ❝ your makeup's running, so you can go ahead and borrow this, if you want. as for the drops — sadly, yes. the drug problem here just keeps on getting worse and worse, ❞ barton ever-so-slightly squinted his eyes at joker as if he was trying to read him. he'd let his nails get out of control, that much was for certain, but he had been 'taking a break' from practicing for about a month now... which really only meant he wasn't seeing any patients outside of surgery. and when he did surgery, it was with precautions taken so that his nails wouldn't breach the gloves ( though usually they were shorter and less sharp. ) the thing about gotham metropolitan was that he'd actually worked there quite some years ago, and they did have strict policies about how long your nails could be. but now that he had his own clinic, he could set the hygiene standards for it.

that didn't mean that he wanted it's existence to be known to the public, though, as his main clientele was criminals. forging some documents to make it appear as if he was working at the hospital like he had years ago was his solution to this. and it always helped to have someone on the inside who could quote unquote ' make that official. ' a micro-expression of displeasure seemed to flash across barton's face for just a second as he made prolonged eye contact with him. all the while, matilda wrapped his hand with a roll of bandages she'd taken out of her purse.

the corner of his lips curled as if to say ' i may not even know you that well yet, but i already hate you. '

Joker expects a gruff burst in his ear once his focus settles on Dr. Mathis’ pocket. Matilda dropped something in there. What exactly, Joker can’t tell. Neither can the younger Wayne heir from their family’s defunct terminal. Squinting won’t help, but it does relieve his red-streaked eyes. How tree pollen has managed to swamp the city is beyond him.

Werewolf slips the cigarette from his mouth to cough into his elbow. He resists the urge to paw at his nose. MAC Chromacake pigments dry down matte, but mist already has begun beading on the surface. A pale blue streak trickles from Tragedy’s eye, down his cheek, and into the margins of his scarlet simper. It has no taste.

Blaring horns don’t distract him, though incoming footsteps while his back is partially turned compels Joker to glance over his shoulder. The line remains wrapped around Paradise’s facade and around the corner. Overcast keeps bruising the night sky.

Sokol side-guards Joker on the left. The black wolf-dog’s ghoulish eyes remain locked on the father-daughter duo before them. One of the doctor’s palms bleeds. Joker hones in on it while accounting for both sets of hands. Those hands could never touch a patient. Something isn’t right. A chill rolls the length of Joker’s spine. He rears his chin, tucks the damp cigarette to his lips so he can inhale as it’s dying, then force himself to breathe.

Without moonlight to transform under, the lycan is left to shift from sole to sole; dipping his shoulders and carrying his torso on that subtle current. Each time he blinks, Bruce loses focus. He has more than plentiful clear frames to screenshot and print, but it’s the jostling of the cameras that unnerve him most. 

“Stand your ground and stay in plain sight,” Bruce’s instruction is calm as, ‘MATHIS, MATILDA’ appears alongside the young woman’s perfect face. No place of employment listed, however. She’s in every way proportionate; a living doll. Scars from cosmetic procedures to achieve such a flawless veneer might dent her skin here and there, but Joker isn’t close enough to know for sure. Those low-resolution lenses certainly can't reveal if any cosmetic procedures have taken place. “No one’s threatened you,” his reminder’s gentle enough to soothe one of his little nieces, “No one’s gonna hurt you. Just hold steady.”

A gradual drop of Joker's left hand settles over the bracelet tucked under his cuff. Three quick taps onto the moon-shaped charm with his thumb are followed by three longer taps, then three short taps. Rinse and repeat. Rinse and repeat. Again. The moon symbol lights up once. Joker covers it with his thumb, then allows his damp sleeve to fall back down and resumes smoking. The Chief’s Special carves his hip. Joker rakes his left hand-heel over the revolver’s snout and remains in position. 

“I’ve got three,” Joker speaks in reference to daughters, but scrunches his face and clarifies, “They’re all little, though. My oldest is five,” youngest has yet to be born, “And my son’s a baby.” His chin nudges toward the doors guarded by Dalí’s long lost twin, “How packed is it in there, Ma’am?” Joker asks Matilda, though his voice might be swallowed by the rain’s hiss. “My wife's on her way. We were just waiting on our sitter,” he’s doubtful Gary had evening plans, “She likes the cabaret.” 

“That was smooth,” though Bruce knows his older brother can’t comment aloud, Joker preens in a fashion that opens his chest up enough for the little brother to know he’s gloating. “Nothing about this guy’s behavior is right. Not hers either. I’m gonna look up his medical license and see if he’s really still in practice. It’s against board regulations to have nails like that. Unless Gotham Metropolitan’s nixed its scalpel budget…” Bruce thinks he’s funny. Joker’s stomach knots in a bow. For that, he paws at his eyeballs and rattles the image Bruce is seeing enough to intentionally trigger a migraine or motion sickness on the younger brother's end. “Do you think they retract like that X-Men villain?”

Joker would roll his eyes if only he could. Instead he puffs enough smoke for a veil to float over his eyes. The rain won’t let it last. Droplets thicken and fall like little guillotine blades. They cut past polyester and soak the satin sleeves of Joker’s dress shirt so they cling to his skin. His chest cinches, leading Joker to cough again and expel any smoke that might remain in his chest. Once more he checks both father and daughter’s hands, then winds Sokol’s light blue lead tighter around his own hand. 

“Are they still slinging Drops around like candy in there…?” Joker speaks to Matilda again, though Dr. Mathis hasn’t left his eyeshot, “Last time, we were practically stepping over bodies just to get to the bar.”

“Try to figure out what she does,” Bruce speaks in reference to Matilda, “I don’t have an employer for her…and she’s being just as weird as he is.” Before Joker interrupts him with some canned, ‘You can’t just tail people because they’re weird,’ Bruce stresses, “He practically admitted to killing that cop, then tripped over it once he knew he couldn’t take it back. Worst comes to worst, have Nix give him a shake-down and see what falls out of his pocket.” Joker slackens his jaw, but isn’t certain if his brother’s joking. “Maybe it is Drops.” Certainly wouldn’t be a body.

[laughhardrunfastbekindsblog]

What Needs to Be Done

Summer of Bad Batch | Week 13 | Prompt: Crashing Hard

Summary: Crosshair was so sure he made the right choice, the only choice... But now he has doubts.

POV: Crosshair

Rating: PG

(Word Count: 650)

Notes: I've been wanting to delve more into what Crosshair might have gone through in season 2 before "The Outpost," especially since I think his confession to Hunter of "I've done things. I've made mistakes" refers to far more than just the Imperial missions we saw him on. I might expand on this storyline in the future; for now, here's a short little ficlet since there's only so much Crosshair angst I can write at the moment.

"CT-9904, report to Captain Dask for your next mission."

The operation involved relocating the inhabitants of Quwan to an Imperial holding facility to await the construction of a factory on their homeworld, a factory they would man in service to the Empire. Those who did not appreciate the opportunity, those who resisted, were not given a second chance, and so the people learned very quickly not to resist. The families cried as their homes were burned to make way for the factory; the children cried as they were hustled onto ships by armed troopers. Crosshair had completed operations very similar to this before; but for some reason, this time he heard Hunter's voice echoing through his mind: Crosshair, I've seen what the Empire's doing, occupying planets and silencing anyone who stands against them. You know it's not right.

But it didn't matter what he thought was right. "Good soldiers follow orders," he thought to himself, though the words had started to grow stale. "We do what needs to be done," he repeated like a mantra, drowning out the memory of Hunter's plea.

******

He heard the rumors, whispers about an attack on Rampart's Venator, intel extracted that proved instrumental in causing Rampart's demise. The Defense Recruitment Bill was passed, but Rampart was gone. And while no one had been able to ID the infiltration team, Crosshair listened to the details of the attack, and he knew who had done it. "They were fools, they won't let themselves see the bigger picture," he told himself, ignoring the painful wrenching in his gut at the reminder of his old squad, though the traitorous thought crossed his mind that he wished he had been with them, wished he was with his brothers now.

******

"Three CTs have gone AWOL and were recently spotted in the market district," the lieutenant addressed the hand-picked squad. "You are to apprehend them. One chance to surrender, one chance only. That is all."

"Traitors," he scoffed to himself, pushing down his unease upon learning that the CTs in question had been part of his detachment during their most recent operation on Vurun. He knew nothing about them, they hadn't even spoken to him the entire mission... so why did he worry about what he might have to do? And why did wish he could have left too? Going AWOL was pointless; they were tracked down soon enough.

"Traitor," he thought again, carefully aiming as one of them tried to run, though his finger trembled on the trigger...

Cody weighed on his mind, haunted his dreams for weeks afterwards...

******

He waited outside the ship preparing to depart for Barton IV; there was no point standing any longer than he had to inside the ship with all the other clones who always ignored him. A group of unarmored clones passed by, questioning an Imperial officer about forced retirement. He knew more clones were being decommissioned, but he wasn't concerned. That wouldn't happen to him. He was useful to the Empire. He had purpose as a soldier.

And he tried not to think about the long years stretching before him, serving as a soldier until the day he died, no friends, brothers gone, all alone.

******

Mayday.

Gone.

He had served as a soldier until the day he died, had outlasted most of his friends, all his brothers gone, and the lieutenant was now ordering Crosshair to leave him... to leave him all alone.

Crosshair had believed the Empire offered him purpose.

He didn't believe it anymore.

"Lieutenant," Crosshair said, the only warning he was willing to give.

He released all his anger and doubts as he avenged Mayday, and suddenly found that this release had sapped all his strength, sapped all his belief in purpose, and he collapsed, no longer caring what happened to him.

I... It needed to be done, was his final thought as the darkness closed in around him.

@summer-of-bad-batch

[journalsouppe]

Professor Layton and the Spectre’s Call!! I actually discovered ordering the game from the UK with shipping was actually cheaper than ordering the American version of the game, there were no major differences that I could tell as they still had the original English voice actors.

I enjoyed this game!! Not my top favorite installment but I still had a great time and loved the new characters. The puzzles were well designed and had nice scaled difficulty and the mini games were really neat too. The Eternal Diva references were so blatant lmfao but I’m excited for Miracle Mask! I was also super exhausted when writing the summary so sorry there’s so many errors and I use the word fun a million times ToT

The Descole and Tea sticker are from JordyDrawsMerch! All other stickers are from Daiso. Writing typed below!

Rating: 8.3

Played: Sp 2024

Port: DS on 3DS

Favorite? Y

Replayable? Y

Recommend? Y

Series: Professor Layton

Comments

Emmy and BABY LUKE!!

OH THANK GOD IT’S CHRISTOPHER ROBIN MILLER

Ngl im so excited to watch the anime, I love the animation sm

Oh Layton is not taking Claire’s death well at all

I love how animated the background now is!!

Beautiful music as always

Does Clark have the same VA as Dmitri lol

THE WORLD WILL END? Damn Luke

The specter looks like one of those little kingdom hearts guys

Luke’s been a LaytonMobile hater since day one lmao

Luke is especially funny in this game

Layton taking Luke to the black market is so wild

THE PUPPET PLAY IS ADORABLE

I’m going to fight aunt taffy

Ooo we get to play as Emmy

Holy shit Emmy

GIRL FROG

Emmy asking if Layton always pokes lamps he sees is making me think he physically touches everything the player taps

The convo with the meowing man???

CHELMEY AND BARTON

Based anti-cop npc

THE DYNAMITE WORKS LMAO

Is Hershel gonna get a cask of amantillado’d T^T

The canals are so pretty i like the design of misthallery

Oh i do not like the police chief

I LOVE YOU EMMYYY

Grosky is very funny

Omg the cliff death police cover up reminds me of killer frequency which i just watched a playthrough of

FUCK JAKES

Where’s phoenix when you need him

JAIL BREAK JAIL BREAK!!!

I love descole’s voice

YAAA LADDER VS STEP LADDER

NESSIE???

The story book stories and animations are so CUTE!!

I wonder if Naiya was added to the game to hit at the Eternal Diva

This kinda reminds me of a pokemon movie but I don’t remember which one it was

^^ it was pokemon heroes when latias and latios were caught ^^;

AN OCARINA!!!

Creepy fucking factory music ToT

Oh dear. I seem to have stepped on a hexagonal spanner

Descole always serving massive cunt

Woah the golden garden is beautiful

Ohh so that’s why Luke was fork life certified in plvspw

ZAMN T^T

THE WAY THE SPRITES WALK KILLS ME LOL

I really like these little episodes from others POVS! ^_^

Summary

This was such a fun origin story for Luke and Layton. Very much a classic Layton game with world ending machinery and gorgeous environment design. I really liked both Emmy and Descole, there’s a more serious undertone than with Don Paolo as the main villain (even though I do love Don Paolo). Emmy is amazing!! I was afraid she would be sidelined like Flora was but I’m glad to she stands her ground and does what she wants to do. I alos like how we got to go on our own adventure as her to London, she’s a character that doesn’t need to rely on Hershel to solve everything. Meeting Luke was great, loved his blank stare. It was fun seeing his origins and how Clark and Hershel knew each other. I’m curious how the prequels will play into the New World of Steam, especially now that Luke’s family have stories and sprites (unlike in the original trilogy). Loved the ACAB story, v nice to play while I’m still so mad at what’s happening to university students currently. Descole was so fun, I am obsessed with his outfit and personality. Unfortunately I was spoiled on who he is but I’m very excited to learn more. I think similar to Ace Attorney, the fourth installment is that last game in the classic 2D style, which is sad but PLvsPW makes me very hopeful about 3D Layton. The overall story was fun, I really liked the sub plot about the Ravens - that was really fun (i was so tired writing this omfg). I wish we got a little more backstory on the rich guy who died, I feel like there’s more to the story. OO I loved the little episodes, especially the one about Chelmey. They added a lot of fun context and gave more life to the NPCs. Such a fun and classic Layton game, I can’t wait to play Miracle Mask! (And read the light novels). This wasn’t my favorite Layton game but I still really loved it and had a great time and loved the puzzles — that’s all I want from PL!

[kandisheek]

FIC REC WEEK 51 – HOLIDAY SEASON

SERIES: The Avenger's Favorite Holiday Moments (2013) by Era_Penn

Pairing: Gen Rating: G Words: 2,765 Tags: Team as Family, Domestic Fluff, Warm Fuzzy Feelings

Summary: The Avengers celebrate the holidays, too, and for this year's, I decided to write about each of their favorite moments centering around Christmas.

Reasons why I love it: This fic gives me all of the early Avengers Tower-era family feels. I've always loved Christmas, and this series manages to capture the magic of the season perfectly. It's warm and soft and cozy, and I guarantee that it will leave you with a smile, no matter what kind of a day you're having. So if you're looking for a pick-me-up, you've come to the right place!

This series consists of:

Lights All Aglow

Pairing: Gen Rating: G Words: 417 Tags: Traditions, Gifts, Tony Stark Feels

Summary: Tony Stark's favorite moment is the silence on Christmas morning. But he mainly loves it because it is broken quickly.

Reasons why I love it: I love the thought of Tony being all cozy in his armchair with a cup of hot cocoa, it makes me happier than you can imagine. This whole series is full of lovely moments, but this is one of my favorites, because I relate to it so hard. Definitely check this one out, it's wonderful.

Cookie-Cutter Crazy

Pairing: Gen Rating: G Words: 301 Tags: Cookies, Foodfight, Natasha Romanoff Feels

Summary: Natasha doesn't really know how to do holiday spirit. But she does love a good cookie.

Reasons why I love it: This is such a lovely take on Natasha as a person and her experiences with Christmas. I love how readily she lets herself fall into the magic of it now, with the team at her side like an imperfect little family. It's amazing, and I hope you go and check it out for yourself!

Deck the Halls

Pairing: Gen Rating: G Words: 336 Tags: Gift Wrapping, Decorating, Clint Barton Feels

Summary: Clint has two different favorite moments, for two very different reasons, that he associates with Christmas. One to share, and one just for him.

Reasons why I love it: This captures Clint so perfectly. I never thought about decorating being something that Clint would love to do, but it makes complete sense in my head. I love this one, and I hope you check it out!

Tree Trimming

Pairing: Gen Rating: G Words: 359 Tags: Christmas Tree, Love, Thor Feels

Summary: Thor just loves picking and decorating the tree. It makes him feel close to everyone.

Reasons why I love it: Picking out the tree has always been one of my favorite parts of Christmas, so I totally get Thor's excitement. The thought of the whole team wandering around and having snowball fights over which tree they want is so fucking wholesome, I want to cry. I love this one so much, you definitely have to read it!

Perfect Packages

Pairing: Gen Rating: G Words: 693 Tags: Reminiscing, Gift Giving, Steve Rogers Feels

Summary: Steve loves the look on peoples faces when they receive the perfect gift. But that isn't the only reason he loves to find the perfect present.

Reasons why I love it: Awww, I love the choice for each gift that Steve gives to his team, both the old and the new ones. The descriptions make me smile every time I read it, especially Bruce's second gift. This fic is lovely, and you should definitely read it!

Christmas Candy

Pairing: Gen Rating: G Words: 304 Tags: Cooking, Not Alone, Bruce Banner Feels

Summary: Bruce likes cooking, and he likes it when his creations mysteriously disappear even more. He isn't just cooking for one anymore.

Reasons why I love it: As a certified foodie, this fic makes my mouth water. I want to have every candy Bruce listed, right here, right now. Definitely check this one out! Fair warning though, it might make you hungry.

Orderly Chaos

Pairing: Gen Rating: G Words: 355 Tags: Plans, Home, Phil Coulson Feels

Summary: Phil likes to be the man behind the scenes, subtly creating the magic. And he likes to see others happy as a result of his efforts.

Reasons why I love it: This is exactly what I love about Phil as a character, his pleasure in making sure that everyone else is having a good time. It's absolutely perfect and an amazing ending to this wonderful series. Definitely make sure to check it out, because it's one of my favorites!

[featheredmoonwings]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers (except me because obvs I have done it). Spread the self-love ❤

This is a lovely ask thank you!

Now let's see. 5 of my favorite fics I've written, hmmm.

I know no one asked for explanations but I'll give them anyway XD Here they are (these probably change depending on my mood), in no particular order even though they're numbered:

Lonely Stars Drifting In The Black (gen) Why is it fav? I of course CANNNOT go without mentioning this fic. My first, properly long fic that I finished. I remain so proud of what I achieved here and my commitment to writing it all out and FINISHING it. That used to be something so hard for me to do and I'm so proud of how I managed to write these complex relationships without sacrificing the character's morals. I-m still working on the series that sprouted out of it and I'm STILL so happy about the stories coming out of it. Fandom: Star Wars: Prequels Characters: Jango Fett & Obi-wan Kenobi Summary: It's an easy job, go in, get some information, and then Jango Fett can be on his merry way out of the disgusting Death Watch camp which he has nothing but contempt for. It WOULD be an easy job, that is if it weren't for the chained kid they've got, tied up like an animal… Jango sees red and nothing more. He'll make them regret the day they dared to lay hands on a child.

Of The Old Things Hidden In The World (gen) Why is it fav? I consider this one of my most self indulgent projects and I love it for this XD. It's a crossover but I take myself very seriously with it and that's one of the things I like so much about it. Could be silly but I don't let it be. I took a concept that I really liked (Merlin turning Aithusa human) and then I just REALLY ran with that idea. When I would usually hate miscommunication, this story is filled with it but it's purposeful and no one is being stupid about it. Fandom: Merlin BBC x Avengers MCU Characters: Aithusa, Merlin, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff & Clint Barton Summary: Merlin and Aithusa have weathered this world together since the long gone age of Camelot. But now Merlin is in grave trouble and there's nothing Aithusa can do to help him. Merlin has commanded him not to follow, not to help. If Aithusa keeps doing nothing at all, it'll soon break his heart, surely. But… this new age has heroes, perhaps they might help. After all, Hydra IS their problem, isn't it? The should be the ones to deal with it.

A Crime Of Passion (gen, but can definitely be read as shippy) Why is it fav? This story gave me SO much grief but since the MOMENT I conceived this story I've loved the idea and at the end (despite all the problems) I keep loving the result I got from it. I got some good narrative out of it and TENSION. Characters being forced to do something they don't want to my beloved. Fandom: Twilight Characters: Carlisle Cullen & Aro Summary: For the life of Edward, Carlisle Cullen must make a bargain with the devil of Volterra himself, the bargain though, is not at all what the Doctor thought it would be. (Canon Divergence from the end of New Moon)

After The Mist (pre-ship but SUPER gen vibes) Why is it fav? This ones OLD and you can see a lot of mistakes in the writing but I LOVE the interactions that I wrote and the relationship I was crafting. I like it so much, love the idea of the story, that I STILL want to finish it and give it the love it deserves. Fandom: Frozen ll Characters: Agnarr & Iduna Summary: After young Agnarr returns to Arendell that faithful day in the forest, there's a grief too deep inside his chest he cannot begin to comprehend it. But there's no time to dwell on it, he's a king now and he must act as such. Still, he is drowning, he's drowning all the time. But there's someone out there who might just understand what this profound pain is doing to him. "My name's Iduna."

Drizzle By The Sea (Gen) Why is it fav? Another VERY old work which I'm still very fond off. It captures one of the things I love writing the most and it's this little pleasures like walking in the woods or getting soaked by the rain. I find the feeling it produced beautiful and it makes me happy so, yeah. The execution is maybe a bit clumsy but I know what old me wanted to transmit. I keep coming back to this sort of writing and I hope I never stop cause it makes me feel alive and like the world is magic. Fandom: Teen Titans (cartoon) Characters: Robin & Jericho Summary: Jericho is a bit... weird. Robin can see in the way the sea captures his attention that there's a natural feeling and a sense of delight that he carries with him. It's contagious.

Thank you so much for the ask @cilil it made me very happy and I did want to answer something like this today. I'm glad for that emotional boost, so thanks again <3

[themculibrary]

5+1 Christmas Fics Masterlist

5 times Peter borrows Tony’s hoodie (ao3) - Dorthea G, 5k

Summary: “Kid, you can’t just keep something like that hidden” Tony straightens in his seat, “We need to know what is going on with you. Cho might be able to help, or I could make some tech or…”

“Tony, stop!” Peter says sternly “This… this thing, me. I’m not something that needs to be fixed”.

Tony stops, meeting Peter’s eyes with a sudden sense of hurt and pain. “I didn’t… of course you don’t need to be fixed Pete, I… you can’t live like this though”.

Or…

5 times Peter borrows Tony’s hoodie.

5 Times Peter Wrapped Something With His Webs (ao3) - jessicagoddamnjones G, 8k

Summary: + 1 time he didn’t.

all I want for Christmas (is you) (ao3) - grydo2life clint/phil T, 5k

Summary: Or, 5 presents Clint gave Phil, and 1 that Phil gave back.

Disaster Christmas: an Avengers Team 5+1 (ao3) - awesomesockes, whumphoarder steve/bucky, pepper/tony T, 10k

Summary: Five times the Avengers experience Christmas-related misfortune and Dr. Banner gets to show off his nursing skills + the one time everyone is miserable together.

Five Avengers Tony Kissed Under the Mistletoe (And One He Didn't) (ao3) - sariane tony/avengers

Summary: Five Avengers Tony Kissed Under the Mistletoe and One He — wait, what the hell? There are only six Avengers, how does that even work, author? Are you sure you should be writing fanfiction? Does no one regulate this?

Tony has a busy holiday season.

Five Times Clint and Natasha Ended Up Under the Mistletoe (ao3) - AlliSnow clint/natasha G, 4k

Summary: New York, Austria, Morocco, Cleveland, and back to New York.

Five Times Matt & Foggy Held Hands (And One Time They Didn't) (ao3) - coffeegrl G, 21k

Summary: Set mostly in their law school days, Matt and Foggy end up holding hands more than two platonic straight guy friends usually do. No slash but definitely some bromance. Also, I suck at titles, so there ya go.

Also, I do not own Daredevil, Matt Murdock, Foggy Nelson, or anything Marvel related. I'm simply playing with these cute boys and I promise I will put them back on the shelf unharmed when I am done with them.

Five Times Peter and Tony Had Each Other’s Backs… (ao3) - sahiya G, 34k

Summary: …and One Time They Needed Help

Five Times the Coulsons Surprised Clint Barton (ao3) - Schuyler clint/phil, agent kay/emma peel M, 10k

Summary: Phil takes an injured Clint Barton home for Christmas. His parents handle the rest.

Keep Me Warm (ao3) - some1_around bucky/steve/tony N/R, 3k

Summary: Five times Tony was alone on Christmas, and one time he wasn't.

Loving and Leaving (ao3) - sapphiremoonlight_witch yelena/kate T, 13k

Summary: Kate Bishop is not one to back down from a fight, even if it means following a black widow assassin around the country. When it comes to revenge, Yelena is all too familiar. AU where Yelena’s hit on Clint is successful. — (or 5 times Yelena ran away +1 time Kate ran with her)

Off the Mark (ao3) - brandnewfashion steve/tony T, 11k

Summary: In which Tony makes assumptions, and Steve disproves every single one of them.

Aka a "five times Steve surprised Tony, and one time Tony surprised Steve" story.

On This Winter’s Night (ao3) - athena4lynn G, 6k

Summary: Five Times Clint Barton Found Something He Needed In A Church On Christmas Eve

So this is Christmas… (ao3) - Cheerios_me_lovely T, 12k

Summary: 5 times Tony ran in to a homeless Peter Parker, and the 1 time the teen came home with him

Post No Way Home, except the events of it happened a little earlier, and infinity war didn’t happen so the Avengers are all alive

we’ll welcome december with tireless hope (ao3) - imgoingtocrash pepper/tony, mj/peter G, 10k

Summary: Five Christmases with the slowly growing Stark-Potts family, plus one where Peter realizes they're his family too.

[avengerscompound]

The Interview - Chapter 16

The Interview - A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Rating:  E

Warnings: none

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Melody Danes

Word Count: 2126

Summary:  Melody Danes gets the break of a lifetime when as a lowly intern, she’s assigned to write a profile piece on Captain America.  Steve Rogers is a hard man not to fall for and as she and Melody get closer and Melody’s career takes off, jealousy leads to sabotage, and the potential to bring her whole world crashing down.

Chapter 16

Excitement bubbled in Melody's stomach as she rode the Avengers Tower elevator up with Bobbi.  They’d both been to the tower plenty of times.  They’d met all the Avengers.  This was different though.  They weren’t there to sleep over with their prospective boyfriends.  They weren’t there for a party that half of the city had been invited to.  They weren’t there for work.  Tony Stark had invited them to dinner with the team specifically to get to know them.  He’d even had an assistant call to find out if either of them had any special dietary requirements to make sure they felt completely correctly catered for.  He wanted them to feel comfortable because for the Avengers this was the equivalent of meeting the family.

It felt like a big deal.  A relationship marker.  This was the part where the people who loved them best decided if Melody and Bobbi were good enough for them.  Melody just wished it had been Steve’s idea.

Bobbi reached over and gave Melody a push.  “It’s going to be fine.  It’s just dinner.”

Melody pushed her back. “I know.  I know.  It just feels like a big deal.  I don’t know if I should ask Steve to come meet my parents after this or what.”

“Well, at least you get to think about that as an option,” Bobbi said.

Melody frowned and put her arm around her cousin.  “I’m sorry.  I know.  But you got me.”

Bobbi rested her cheek on the top of Melody’s head for a moment.  “Yeah, I’ve got you,” she said.  “And Bucky’s already met you, and he thinks you’re great.  So I’ve got nothing to worry about.  Still, there are my sisters, and I hold out hope mom and dad will come around.”

The elevator opened, and to Melody’s surprise, instead of opening out onto the party deck where she’d first met the rest of the team, it was straight into an apartment.  She could only assume this was the penthouse because it appeared to take up the entire floor, and at least the one above too, as there was a large glass staircase that wound up on the left of the room.  Ahead of her were three steps that led to what appeared to be a living room and the top of the Chrysler building dominated the view out of the floor-to-ceiling windows.  The Avengers were all sitting on the couches together and they stood when the doors opened.  As well as Steve, Bucky, and Tony there, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Sam Wilson, James Rhodes, Bruce Banner, Wanda Maximoff, Thor, Maria Hill, Sharon Carter, and Pepper Potts were all there.  She’d met them all at the party, though some only very briefly, and while most she knew just due to their fame, there were others whose job it was not to be known by the general public.  Melody had Steve go through everyone’s names before coming just so she wouldn’t embarrass herself.

“Here are the guests of honor,” Tony announced, when they approached he stepped forward and kissed each of them on the cheek.  “Welcome, welcome.  Have you all met?  I’m sure you know most of them from their do-goodings.  That’s Maria and Sharon.  Anyone else you might not know?”

“It’s fine, Tony,” Steve said as he put his arm around Melody.  “They both met everyone at the party.”

“Though some of us only briefly,” Hill said.  “It’s nice to see you still around.  I don’t think any of us have ever seen that before.”

“This is the first person I’ve even seen Bucky actually date,” Clint said.

“There was that blind date Natasha set him up on,” Sam replied.

“Alright, alright.  We don’t all need to be going over my love life in front of my girlfriend,” Bucky said.

Bobbi took his hand and kissed his palm. “Your past doesn’t bother me, mi corazón.  They can tease.”

“Great, permission granted,” Sam said, rubbing his hands together.  “This is going to be great!”

Bucky groaned and ran his prosthetic hand down his face.  “Fuckin’ great.”

“Come on, come on,” Tony said.  “Dinner won’t wait forever.  Let’s go through.”

Melody had never seen a dining table as large as the one in Tony’s dining room in person before, and while she’d seen ones on TV just as big or maybe even larger, they featured on shows with vampires, or large mafia families, or epic sagas with Kings and Queens.  Those tables were always dark and heavy hardwood.  Often they were ornately carved.  This was nothing like those tables.  It was rectangular and made of what looked like a single piece of highly polished obsidian and sat on a support of polished chrome in the shape of an x.

Steve pulled out one of the black padded chairs for Melody and she took her seat as everyone else sat down around her.  As soon as they were seated two waiters came out and began filling glasses.  One poured either red or white wine into the wine glasses, while the other poured water into the highballs beside them.  Already set out on the table were platters with olives and warm sourdough bread, as well as meatballs, stuffed zucchini flowers, focaccia, and some kind of arancini.

Melody helped herself to a little of everything as the rest of the group filled their plates.  She was used to eating with Steve and Bucky at this point and wasn’t surprised to see how full Bucky’s plate was, nor how Steve had leaned more into the high protein things like the meatballs over the empty calories of the white bread.  She was surprised to see just how much Thor had taken.  He had dragged an entire platter of meatballs down to himself and added handfuls of everything else to it.

“Speaking of people’s love lives,” Melody said.  “How’s things going with Mattie, Sam?  He talks about you a lot.”

Sam’s eyes lit up at the mention of his new relationship.  “It’s going great,” he said.  “I mean - you know what it’s like dating an Avenger.  I don’t always have a lot of free time, but we’re having a great time together.”

“Ohh… is there another meet-the-family dinner coming up?” Tony asked, a teasing tone in his voice.

“I’ll happily let all of you degenerates meet him any time,” Sam teased.  “But we’re a little way off taking him back to Lousianna.”

Tony put his hand on his chest.  “I’m wounded, Tweety.  You wound me.”

The appetizers were already starting to run out and the waiters started to bring out bowls of a rich soup filled with clams still in their shells.”

“That’s Zuppa Di Vongole,” Tony explained.  “It was one of my grandmother’s favorites.  Or if you don’t eat fish, you’re getting minestrone.”

“How many courses are we having tonight, Tony?” Steve asked.

“Just six,” he said.  “I didn’t go overboard.”

Sharon, Sam, and Clint started laughing, while Steve, Pepper, and Rhodey shook their heads, the look of resigned disbelief was mirrored in all of them.

“Thank you so much for doing all this, Tony,” Bobbi said.  “In a way, it reminds me of dinners with my whole extended family.  Only we all cooked together as well.  And it was a lot more dysfunctional.”

“Give it time,” Bucky muttered.

“You don’t want to cook with all of us,” Bruce said.  “There’s only a couple of people here who can cook.  Most of us burn water.”

“Well part of the fun is passing on tradition, isn’t it?” Bobbi said.  “Bucky’s a great cook.  We’ve been teaching each other different recipes.”

“I didn’t know you liked cooking, Bucky,” Sam said.

Bucky shrugged. “You don’t know lots of things about me.”

Sam looked at him deadpan.  “Well I was going to offer to share some of my family recipes with you, but see if I do now.”

Melody was using one of her clam shells to pick out the clams from the others, but there was still a lot of soup left in her bowl compared to the people around her.  She was a little worried she’d still be eating by the time the next course came out.  She leaned up to Steve’s ear.  “I might need your help to eat all this.”

Steve chuckled.  “And you’re asking me?”

“Think of it as a public service.  Your poor hard done by girlfriend needs to save face,” she whispered.

Steve laughed harder and stole a quick kiss.  “Okay, I’ll help you,” he said.

“Thank you, honey,” she said and kissed his cheek.

Steve shook his head, smiling affectionately as he scooped some of the soup from Melody’s bowl into his own.  She was just getting to the bottom of the bowl when the waiters came out with the next course.  This time it was a salad course.  Most everyone got a Caprese salad, though Tony and Pepper seemed to have gone for something without dairy that featured pear and red cabbage.

“Still avoiding dairy, Tones?” Rhodey asked.

“Well, cutting it down.  It’s hard when there’s a Ben and Jerry’s flavor named after me,” Tony said.

“That’s not the humble brag you think it is, Tones,” Clint said.  “Most of the people here have Ben and Jerry’s flavors named after them.”

“And not one of them is as good as Phish Food,” Maria said.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Tony said.  “Hey now, I won’t hear a thing against Stark Raving Hazelnuts.”

Melody was starting to think she might make it through the entire six courses as she ate her salad.  It was light and fresh, and it didn’t feel like it was filling her up at all.  Then the waiters began bringing out the next course.

“Gnocchi with pesto cream,” Tony said.  “But it’s a cashew cream.”

Melody took a sip of her wine before she started eating.  Before she even took a bite, the conversation had started up again.

“Stark said you interviewed him, Lady Bobbi,” Thor said.

“Yeah, that’s right,” she said.  “We had fun.  You should do it.”

Tony snorted and took a quick swallow of his water.  “Sorry.  I just imagined what it would be like for your team to be making food from 2000 BCE.”

“Just big slabs of meat roasted over coals,” Melody laughed.

“I would not complain,” Thor said.  “A feast is a feast.”

“That sounds better than what I had to eat.  Everything I had was set in jello,” Tony said.

Clint laughed loudly. “Amazing.  I can’t wait to watch it.”

“So what’s the premise?” Sharon asked.

“Just a casual interview while you eat food made from recipes in magazines that came out the year you were born,” Melody said.  “We have other ideas too.  But so far we like that one.”

“That does sound fun.  I hate doing interviews and I’d do that,” Clint said.

“You’d be so welcome,” Melody said.  “I was also thinking of doing a series where we compared things from different chains.  Like pizza or burgers.”

“Oh, oh, I want to do that one,” Clint said.

“I’ll call you to set it up. Thanks, Clint,” Melody said.

“So what did you have to eat Tony?” Natasha said.

“There was a red cabbage salad in a jello that tasted like acid,” Tony said. “This loaf made of creamed liver, this sandwich that was made to look like a cake.”

“Mmm… sounds so appetizing,” Rhodey said.

“I was a little worried he was going to get revenge with this dinner,” Bobbi joked.

“There’s still two courses to go,” Sam said.

Tony laughed hard.  “See, I’m a better person than I thought.  That didn’t even occur to me.”

Despite Steve’s help, Melody was very full by the time she finished the pasta course.  She noticed that most of the other mortals were struggling too.  Pepper’s plate was practically full when they took it away and replaced it with Tuscan-style lamb shanks, while the non-meat eaters were given eggplant parmigiana.  Thankfully, the conversation flowed freely around the room.  So while Melody was feeling overfull, she didn’t feel uncomfortable at all.

The fact that Steve’s friends were all so open to accepting both Melody and Bobbi was gratifying.  Nothing was quite as gratifying as seeing Steve and Bucky enjoying having Melody and Bobbi fit in with their friends.  By the end of the night, Steve had never looked so in love, and it made Melody’s heart feel full every time he looked at her.

By the end of the night and after a serving of Tiramisu served with Vin Santo, Melody not only felt very full but very content.

She said goodnight to everyone and headed to the elevator with Steve.  “Will you spend the night?” Steve asked.

She looked up at him and smiled. “You couldn’t keep me away.”

// NEXT

[scarlet-shakedown]

Midnight Suns - Chapter 3

Summary: Johnny wakes up, being held captive by Marc, Steven, and Layla.

TW: Language, Dark Themes, Mentions of Alcohol & Addiction

My eyes opened slowly. They felt heavy, making it hard to keep them open for long. My throat was dry. I tried to swallow but there was no moisture in my mouth. I needed to drink water, or anything. I tried to get up from the bed I was laying down on, and quickly realized I was stuck. My arms and legs were chained to the mattress.

“What the fuck?” I muttered under my exasperated breath.

“What are you?” A woman asked me who was sitting in the corner of the room with a bag of popcorn in her hand.

“No, who are you?!” I snapped.

She quickly responded, calmly and casually, “No, you’re chained up. My questions take priority.” She paused for a moment and ate a piece of popcorn. “I was told your head was on fire. That sounds pretty painful.

“Jesus.” I sighed and laid my head back. “So that wasn’t a dream.. did I hurt anyone?”

“No, fortunately so. Hold on, have I seen you before? Your face looks familiar.” She said before continuing to snack.

I looked over at her, “I- yeah. I was the lead singer of Johnny Blaze and the Wastelanders.. with me being.. Johnny Blaze.” I winced at the stupid shit I just said.

She looked like she was thinking a bit before replying, “No.. no that’s not it.” She thought for a few more seconds before pointing. “Wasn’t your dad a stunt cyclist?”

I smirked a bit. “Barton Blaze and His Stunt Cycle Extravaganza. You know if he was here, he’d already have started writing an autograph for you.”

She let out a chuckle, “Oh wow. I was never really a fan but my dad loved that stuff.”

“Anyways, you know who I am now. Can I ask your name?” I asked again.

She paused for a moment while looking at me before responding, “I’m Layla.”

I responded softly, “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Layla.”

“You don’t seem like the angry, flaming monster I was told about.” She curiously stated.

“I wasn’t in control for most of last night.” I stopped and looked at my bindings. “It’s actually probably a good idea that I’m tied down.”

Layla tilted her head down and looked up through her hair. She sighed and asked if I wanted anything to eat. I was getting hungry but I couldn’t accept. She left the room soon after.

A rush of guilt and regret flooded over me. I didn’t want to hurt anyone, and the lack of control scared me.

I didn’t know what the thing living in my body was, and in a moment of desperation, I whispered under my breath, “Who are you? What do you want with me?”

I waited for a response. Then I waited a little longer, even though I knew I wouldn’t get one. I stared at the ceiling and spiraled about choices I’d made in my life. I knew this day would come since that day that snake took over my life, and I’d hoped he’d forget about me and I could move, but that was never going to happen.

The Devil himself, has had his grasp on me, and my entire family, for nearly my whole life. It all started with my father. One day he was a famous stunt cyclist, and the next, he was forgotten. He’d tried to make a deal he couldn’t come back from. But the Devil didn’t want his soul. He’d already lived most of his life. So the Devil offered that fame back to my father for the price of his sons’ souls instead, and my dad agreed. After an accident during a stunt left my dad unable to work ever again, my brother secretly took to illegal street racing to earn us some money. He was always a good rider, just like our pops. After months of doing that, he’d gotten into a fatal crash during a race. I still remember when I found out. I was inside watching cartoons. Our doorbell was rung and my dad yelled at me to answer it. That was the first time I met him. A tall, well-fed man in an expensive looking black suit stood in the doorway.

“Hello. You must be little Johnny.. I’ve heard a lot about you. Can I speak to your daddy please?”

I remember my dad stepping outside to talk to him. I watched through the window the whole time, trying to make out what was being said. When the conversation was over, he stumbled back inside and told me about my brother. I was devastated, like any kid who just lost their best friend would be, but it completely broke my father. Before my brother’s death, he would only drink at night. Afterwards, I never saw him without a bottle in his hand.

One night, when he was especially wasted, he’d called me over to talk. He was sobbing, with tears and snot rushing down his face. I tried to ask him what was wrong, but he just grabbed my shoulder hard.

“I’m so sorry, Johnny.” He gurgled. “I let that man take your brother.. and he’s gonna take you too and there’s nothing I can do.”

He spat out other gibberish before he laid down and fell asleep on the couch. I stayed by his side for a while unable to move. I knew. I knew the man he was talking about right away. Less of a man and more of a monster even when he wore the face of a man. I tried not to think about these things often, but being chained up after turning into a flame monster kind of made it the obvious thing to be reminded of.

I heard a knock on the door after a while of spiraling and the man I’d fought walked in.

“Alright, we’re gonna talk.” He paused for a moment. “Well, no. I’m gonna talk, and you’re gonna answer me.”

“Ahh.. you must be Steven.. with a V.” I chuckled under my breath.

“No. I’m Marc.” He responded quickly, not seeming to find anything about this funny.

“Okay.. Marc… what do you wanna talk about?” I snickered back at him.

He answered quickly with a straight face.“You know what. Why were you hunting that werewolf? What are you?”

“Well.. to answer both questions at once, the Devil told me to.” I smiled a bit knowing he wouldn’t appreciate that response.

“Alright, you gonna be a jackass this whole time? Because I’m not very patient and I’m definitely not opposed to wiping that smug look off of your face.” Marc was getting visibly frustrated before he whispered to himself, “Fine. Take over.”

I could see something change in his posture. He was slouching a bit and looked a lot less pouty.

“Hey, mate. Johnny, is it?” The man now spoke in an English accent.

I responded quickly, “Yep. Johnny Blaze, pretty famous musician. So you must be Steve.”

“I prefer Steven, but yes. It’s good to meet you properly, without your skull head scaring the living bejesus out of me.” He said kind of chuckling a bit, but still a little uneasy.

“Yeah.. I definitely still prefer my ugly face over the skull too.” I joked back.

He got back into the conversation Marc was trying to have. “Do you know why that whole monster thing happened by the way?”

I replied, being more honest than I thought I’d be, “Yeah, my pops sold my soul to Devil and that’s somehow not anecdotal.”

“You mean like.. the biblical one? That guy?” He sounded a little baffled.

“Y’know, I didn’t ask him if he knew Jesus but I’ll make a point to next time.”

“Well.. I guess it’s not totally out of the realm of possibility. Marc and I serve the Egyptian god of the moon.” He paused thinking as I raised my eyebrows showing interest. “You told Layla you didn’t have control but you remembered my name was Steven. You were at least conscious then, right?”

I nodded, “Well, yeah. It was different though. Most of the time it feels like I’m in the driver’s seat… but last night, it felt like I was watching what was happening from the back while that thing was driving my body around. It was scary.”

“Hmm… that’s kinda how it feels when Marc has the body. Except it’s not scary anymore.”

We sat for a few moments in silence before a blood curdling scream could be heard from what seemed to be outside.

Marc immediately jolted back into control, and yelled “Layla!” while running out of the room.

“Wait! What’s going on?!” I yelled with no response.

My head starting pounding with pain while the voice of the spirit shook through all my thoughts. “That traitorous witch.” I felt those words almost personally without knowing what they meant.

“Come out here now, Zarathos!” A woman’s voice yelled with booming intensity from outside.

The second that name was spoken, I could feel the chains that bound me becoming looser, and the closer I felt to being unchained, the less I felt in control. The entity in me was breaking out, both mentally and physically. Before I knew it, my skin was melting away again. It was happening quicker than the last time, and less painfully too. Was my body acclimating to it?

I was free, and it was in the driver’s seat once again. It sped out the room and outside with murderous intent. The chains were still dragging from its arms. As it stumbled outside, I saw both Marc and Layla on their knees, pinned with ground with red energy. Standing behind them was a woman in dark red clothing. She stared at me with her piercing, red glowing eyes. She felt powerful and gave the impression that she knew she was.

She tilted her head slightly while maintaining eye contact, and with overwhelming clarity, she spoke, “You’re supposed to be in Hell.”