#early avengers time line !

[apologizelater]

❛ EASY , KID.   ❜ a hand is help up in defense , gaze wary behind his mask. still , he doesn't want to have any trouble with @arachnidbit. ❛ i'm here to help.   ❜

[winterarmyy]

He Hates Me, Doesn't He?

A series of random Bucky Drabbles that I can't let go but don't have the brain to make the whole complete plot of.

Summary: You hurt Bucky's girl, and now he hates you.

Pairing: tfatws!bucky x female!reader

Words: 6.7k++

Warnings: angstyyyyyyyyy, but with happy ending because I cannot live in agony. miscommunication galore. 'I want to strangle bucky's girlfriend.' soft reader, cold/mean bucky. bucky should've grovel more. horrible attempt of writing verbal arguments. nothing much but pain.

Inspiration: I remember reading a bucky fic years ago and I like the pain that it caused me to feel. Idk why the pain suddenly came back to me lately. So, this is my take on the same idea. I haven't able to find it. But when I do, I'll reblog it in my another acc!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

y/n had always been a steady presence in the Avengers, known for her gentle demeanour and unwavering support. Her relationship with Bucky Barnes had blossomed from a quiet friendship into something deeper. When they first met, Bucky was reserved and hesitant, still grappling with his past as the Winter Soldier. y/n, with her gentle nature and patient understanding, slowly helped him come out of his shell.

She remembered the sleepless nights they spent together when they were on the run with Steve and Sam. They'd share stories, and sometimes just sit in silence, her quiet company offering solace to Bucky's restless mind. The unspoken bond growing stronger with each passing day. Bucky looked up to her, finding comfort in her presence, and in turn, he became fiercely protective of her. They'd watch each other's backs during missions, their synergy on the battlefield a testament to their deep connection. 

And somewhere along the line, she fell for him. She had fallen for Bucky's resilience and vulnerability, though she never expected more, knowing that a relationship was not what he needed right now. At least, that's what she thought. Little did she know, Bucky had always loved her; ever since the day she offered him tea the first night they were on the run to Wakanda. Maybe she was just simply aloof, or maybe Bucky’s flirting skills weren’t translated the way he wanted, but they never crossed the line between friendship and ‘something more’.

Then when Jen came into the picture, it felt like things started to change. Jen was bold and confident, and it wasn't long before she caught Bucky's eye. Their relationship seemed to spring up overnight, and y/n, though hurt, tried to be happy for Bucky. Jen was supportive and caring, or so it seemed, and Bucky deserved happiness.

Now, as planned the team was instructed to moved into the Avenger compound for a few months to train new recruits. It had only been the first month but surely it was jam packed with endless of rigorous training sessions. The original team—y/n, Sam, Bucky, Jen, Clint, and his mentee Kate Bishop—were all assigned to train the new recruits, with additional of few agents from different branches coming in to help out.

y/n was heading to the training room; she knew it was way too early but she thought that if she didn’t get out of bed now, she might not even get up at all. To her surprise, she was not the first one. She saw a few new trainees were already on the way to the training room; some of them greeted her a good morning. She simply smiled at their enthusiasm. 

The moment she entered the area, she overheard voices coming from the corner of the room. She paused, recognizing Jen's voice, which was raised and laced with contempt. Curiosity piqued, y/n stepped closer, staying just out of sight behind the white board. In hindsight, it might seem weird that she was sneaking around to eavesdrop on Jen, but she couldn't help it.

Initially, y/n liked Jen. She tried to welcome her into their tight-knit group and even supported her relationship with Bucky. However, as time went on, Jen began acting strange. The things she said about Bucky sometimes sounded condescending. She would make comments like, "It's amazing how well he's adjusted, considering his past," or, "It's great that he's trying so hard to be normal." The way she acted often differed from her words, with Jen giving Bucky disapproving glances or sighing heavily whenever he mentioned something from his troubled past.

She had noticed these discrepancies and started to feel uneasy around Jen. She couldn't shake the feeling that Jen’s support was just a facade. Now, standing behind the whiteboard, she strained to hear the conversation.

"…and honestly, I don’t understand how anyone can trust him," Jen was saying. "I mean, sure, he's got that whole 'reformed hero' thing going on now, but let’s be real. He was Hydra’s pet assassin for decades. The things he’s done? It’s unforgivable."

Her friend, another agent from a different branch, nodded hesitantly. "But you’re dating him, aren’t you? Doesn’t that mean you trust him?"

Jen laughed, a cold, humourless sound. "Dating him? Please. I’m in it for the fame and the perks. Have you seen the way people look at us? Besides, he’s hot, I’ll give him that. But trust him? Never. People like him don’t change. They’re broken. He's a monster, and he always will be. It’s only a matter of time before he snaps again."

y/n felt a surge of anger rise within her. How dare Jen talk about Bucky like that? 

Memories flooded her mind, flashing back to Bucky’s nightmare-plagued nights. She remembered the prominent dark circles under his eyes, the haunted look that never quite left his face. The silent pain he endured, adjusting to a modern world where he felt like an outsider, magnified when Steve left. She could still see the wary, suspicious glances people cast in his direction, the whispers behind his back when they first ventured out. Before the fame he acquired as he regained his reputation after the Flag-Smasher incident.

She had witnessed his hardships firsthand—the nightmares that woke him in a cold sweat, the moments of crippling doubt and self-loathing. But she had also seen his triumphs, the small victories that slowly built his confidence. The first time he laughed freely in her presence, the genuine smile that lit up his face when he finally allowed himself to relax. She cherished those moments, the sunshine that broke through the clouds of his tortured past.

All of this came rushing back, breaking the chains on the Pandora's box inside of her. The fury she felt wasn't just for the disrespect to Bucky; it was for every ounce of pain he had suffered, every moment of joy he had fought so hard to reclaim. Her eyes hardened with resolve as she stepped forward, her voice steady but cold. "Take that back," she demanded, her presence startling both Jen and her friend.

Jen turned slowly, a smirk spreading across her face as she saw y/n. She knew from the beginning about the cute little crush y/n had on Bucky. To be frank, everybody sort of knew about it, except for Bucky somehow. 

"Or else what, y/n?" she replied with a mocking tone. "You’re quite pathetic aren’t you? You think that I can’t see how you’ve been eye-fucking my boyfriend all this time? Come on, now. Backing him up would not give you a leeway into his pants, y/n."

y/n’s face went through a range of emotions—shock, embarrassment, and then seething anger. Jen’s words were like poison, each one landing like a punch to the gut.

Jen continued, confidence oozing out of her cocky demeanor, "Besides, we all know that I can easily beat you in a fight, doll" 

The use of doll—a nickname Bucky had given y/n from day one, when Steve had quite literally kidnapped Bucky from the government—made y/n blood boil. Hearing it from Jen felt like a personal attack, a deliberate attempt to undermine everything she shared with Bucky.

And it was true that Jen had graduated top of her batch from the Avengers program and had countless successful missions under her belt, but y/n knew this wasn't about accolades or abilities. This was about something deeper, something more personal.

y/n clenched her fists, taking a step closer. "You think this is about who can fight better?" she said, her voice shaking with restrained fury. "This is about respect. You don’t get to talk about Bucky like that."

Jen scoffed, a cruel smile on her lips. "Respect? For that monster? You’re delusional. He’s a ticking time bomb, a liability to the team. And deep down, everyone knows it."

y/n’s patience snapped. In one swift motion, she slapped Jen hard across the face, the sound echoing through the room. Jen stumbled and fell to the ground, shock and anger flashing across her features.

She stalks forward like a predator cornering its prey, "I’m just done with your lies and your insults. Bucky deserves better than you." Jen instinctively crawled backwards towards the centre of the room. Seeing that she got the attention of the few new recruits she regained her composure, smirked again, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. "You’re pathetic, y/n," she taunted. "Defending a lost cause." her voice was loud enough for y/n to hear but quiet enough that the others might not be able to decipher her words.

At that moment, Bucky and Sam burst into the room, followed closely behind by a new recruit who alerted them of the incident. Bucky’s eyes widened as he took in the scene—Jen on the ground, y/n standing over her, shaking with rage. "What’s going on here?" His demand was completely ignored as y/n’s mind was hyper-focused on the wrath bubbling within her. 

"Get up," y/n demanded, her voice shaking with wrath. Bucky’s momentarily froze as he watched the confrontation escalate before him. y/n, usually so composed, was now a whirlwind of rage, her eyes blazing as she stood over a trembling Jen. Bucky had always known her to be fierce in battle, but this was different—this was raw, unbridled anger. "I'm going to make you regret every word you said. So get on your fucking feet before I rip it off you.." 

Jen, still on the ground, looked up at y/n with wide, teary eyes, playing the role of the victim to perfection. "Please, I didn't– I don’t know what you're…," she whimpered, casting a fearful glance at Bucky and Sam, who had just arrived on the scene.

Bucky's mind raced. Why was she doing this? He stepped forward, trying to diffuse the situation. "y/n, hey!" he shouted, his voice a mix of confusion and anger. "What are you doing?"

Completely ignoring him, "Get up," y/n snarled, her eyes blazing with intensity. "Get up and fight me. I’ll show you who the real monster is." Jen looked up, her hand on her cheek, disbelief mingling with her fury. "You’re crazy," she spat, scrambling to her feet.

Her response was only a furious shout. "I said, get up!"

"y/n, are you crazy?!" Bucky yelled, moving quickly to intervene. He grabbed her wrist, his grip tight and unforgiving.

She turned her fierce gaze towards Bucky; her expression momentarily faltering at the hurt in his eyes. "Bucky, you don’t understand, she--" she began, but the words caught in her throat as she saw Jen's smirk flicker for just a second.

"There's nothing to understand," Bucky snapped. "You’re acting insane."

y/n looked at him, her eyes filled with hurt and frustration. "Bucky, you have to listen—"

But he cut her off, his expression hard. "I don’t care! You hurt her, y/n. You think I don’t see that bruise on her cheek?!" Bucky shouted, his face contorted with anger. His eyes, usually filled with a gentle warmth when he looked at y/n, were now blazing with fury. "This isn’t like you, y/n. I’ve noticed that you’ve never liked Jen, and I don’t know why. But this? This is just immature and reckless." His metal grip on y/n's wrist was tighter than he intended. She winced, her eyes watering not just from the pain but from the sting of his words. 

y/n had never seen Bucky like this. His anger was palpable, radiating off him in waves. It was like being hit with a physical force, and she felt her heart breaking under the weight of it. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them away, her anger flaring even hotter. "Bucky, you don’t understand," she tried to explain, but the words caught in her throat.

Bucky’s expression remained hard, the force on her wrist tightening painfully. "You need to grow up, y/n," he seethed, his disappointment evident in his tone. "You're always causing drama lately, and it needs to stop. Jen’s been there for me in ways you haven’t, and I won’t tolerate you attacking her like this."

The words cut through her like a knife. Her heart shattered at his harshness, at the realization that Bucky thought so little of her. She yanked her wrist free, feeling the sting of his grip lingering. "Fine," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Believe what you want."

Without another word, she turned and stormed out, leaving Bucky standing there, torn between confusion and guilt.

A gnawing sense of remorse tugging at him, but he couldn't shake the confusion and anger clouding his mind. "Jen, are you okay?" he asked, helping her to her feet.

Jen, tucking herself to his side, managed to summon a few tears, looking up at Bucky with a feigned innocence. "I don’t know why she hates me so much," she murmured, playing her part perfectly.

Bucky fingers softly traces on her wounded cheek before his gaze switched to y/n’s retreating form, a knot tightening in his chest. He wasn’t sure why those mean words had spouted out of his lips. Was it because he saw Jen injured on the ground and his protective instincts kicked in? Or was it because Jen had been whispering doubts in his ear about y/n’s loyalty, making him question his longtime friend? 

The truth was, Bucky had always relied on y/n’s unwavering support. She had been his rock through the toughest times, and seeing her so furious, so hurt, shook him to his core. Yet, in the heat of the moment, he had lashed out, unable to reconcile the image of Jen crying with the fierce anger that radiated from y/n.

As Bucky comforted Jen, his mind was a storm of conflicting emotions. He couldn't shake the image of hurt on her face, nor could he ignore the nagging feeling that he was missing a crucial piece of the puzzle.

On the side, Sam was only able to watch the scene play out silently, a frown creasing his brow. He had a feeling there was more to this story, and he intended to get to the bottom of it.

As weeks passed, the rift between Bucky and y/n deepened, fueled by Jen's cunning manipulation. In a private conversation, Jen planted seeds of doubt in Bucky's mind, suggesting that y/n harboured hidden resentments and intentions.

"I hate to say it, Bucky, but maybe she's not who we thought she was," Jen insinuated, her voice dripping with false concern. "Maybe she's been hiding her true feelings all along, waiting for the right moment to strike." 

Bucky, already vulnerable and confused after the incident in the training room, absorbed Jen's words like poison, allowing them to fester and take root in his mind. He began to view y/n through a new lens, one tainted by suspicion and distrust. This single conversation, filled with subtle manipulations and insidious suggestions, was all it took to fracture the bond between Bucky and y/n, leaving Bucky cold and distant towards the one person who had always stood by his side.

Most days he would avoid eye contact with her during team meetings, barely acknowledging her presence when they were forced to interact. In training sessions, his instructions to her were curt and clipped, lacking the warmth and camaraderie they once shared. y/n felt each of these interactions like a stab to the heart.

She couldn't understand how quickly Bucky had turned against her, how easily he had accepted Jen's version of events without even giving her a chance to explain. The hurt festered inside her, eating away at her sense of self-worth.

Then one night, as y/n sat alone on the rooftop, staring out into the darkness, Sam found her there. He knew this was where she retreated when she needed space to think, to process her emotions. He approached her cautiously, sitting down beside her without a word.

"Why aren't you at dinner, y/n?" Sam finally asked, breaking the silence. He could see the emptiness in her eyes, the weight of her sorrow pressing down on her.

She shook her head, her voice hollow. "Lost my appetite," she muttered, her gaze still fixed on the horizon.

Sam gently prodded, knowing there was more to her withdrawal than just a lack of hunger. "Is it because of what happened the other day at the training room?" he asked softly.

Instantly, her demeanor shifted. Anger flared in her eyes, directed not just at Jen and Bucky, but at the entire situation. "I don't want to talk about it, Sam," she snapped, her frustration bubbling to the surface. But Sam wasn't one to give up easily, especially when he knew how much y/n was hurting. "Come on, y/n," he urged, his voice gentle but insistent. "You can't keep bottling this up. Talk to me."

Her expression softened slightly at Sam's persistence, but the pain still lingered in her eyes. "Seriously, Sam, please just drop it," she pleaded, her voice wavering with emotion.

Sam could see the cracks forming in her facade, the vulnerability seeping through the tough exterior she usually projected. Without a word, he pulled her into a comforting embrace, letting her bury her face against his shoulder.

As she clung to him, her facade finally crumbled. Her lips trembled, her eyes filled with unshed tears. "He hates me, doesn't he?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own heartbreak. "Bucky hates me."

Sam held her tighter, offering silent comfort as she grappled with the weight of her sorrow. He knew there were no easy answers, no quick fixes to mend the shattered pieces of y/n's heart. But in that moment, all he could do was be there for her, a steady anchor in the storm of her emotions.

The dim glow of the kitchen's overhead light provided a faint sense of solace in the otherwise silent darkness of the compound. Bucky sat at the wooden table, his tired eyes staring blankly at the cup of untouched tea before him. It was a nightly ritual lately, this dance with sleeplessness and the haunting memories that lurked in the shadows of his mind yet again.

Footsteps broke the stillness, and Bucky's gaze shifted to the entrance of the kitchen. y/n stood hesitantly in the doorway, her presence casting a tentative aura over the room. There was a palpable tension between them, an unspoken weight that hung heavy in the air.

She cleared her throat, breaking the awkward silence. "Mind if I join you?" she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper. She was expecting Bucky to ignore her completely but he didn’t; Bucky simply shrugged nonchalantly, his guard seemed to flatter. "Suit yourself," he muttered.

As she quietly took a seat opposite him, a heavy silence settled between them. Bucky's thoughts churned with a whirlwind of emotions, each one vying for dominance over the others. His guard seemed to falter in the presence of her tentative yet comforting aura. The weight of his own vulnerability loomed large in his mind, drowning out the anger he had harboured towards her.

As the silence stretched between them, she felt a surge of compassion wash over her. She knew why he was awake at this time. She knew that the tea he brewed was to help him sleep. She was the one who planted that habit to him after all.

And despite everything that had transpired between them, she couldn't bear to see Bucky suffer alone. With a deep breath to steady her nerves, she decided to reach out to him, to offer what little comfort she could.

Without a word, y/n rose from her seat and moved to stand behind Bucky's chair. He stiffened at her touch, his muscles tense with apprehension. But as her gentle hands began to massage the tension from his neck, a wave of unexpected relief washed over him.

Her touch was soft and comforting, a stark contrast to the coldness he had grown accustomed to due to Jen’s unwillingness to acknowledge this side of him. She ran her fingers through his hair, coaxing him to relax, to let go of the burdens that weighed heavily on his shoulders. For a brief moment, Bucky allowed himself to forget the walls he had built around his heart. In her presence, her voice, and her touch; he felt a glimmer of hope, a flicker of warmth that he had long since forgotten.

But then, like a sudden gust of wind extinguishing a fragile flame, the weight of Jen's words came crashing back down upon him. Anger flared within him, hot and fierce, directed not only at y/n but at himself for allowing his heart to yearn for her.

He pushed himself away from the table, his movements sharp and abrupt. "I don't need your pity, y/n," he spat, his words laced with bitterness. "Just leave me alone."

With that, he stormed out of the kitchen, leaving y/n alone in the suffocating silence.The disbelief that clouded her thoughts gave way to a searing agony that twisted in her chest. How could he say such things? How could he push her away so callously, after everything they had shared?

y/n buried her face in her hands, her body trembling with the force of her sobs. The weight of her shattered dreams pressed down on her, crushing her spirit beneath its merciless grip. She had never felt so alone, so utterly abandoned by the one person she had trusted above all others.

The pain of losing Bucky, of losing the love that had sustained her through the darkest of times, threatened to consume her whole. Each breath felt like a struggle, each heartbeat a painful reminder of the emptiness that now filled her soul.

In that moment of crushing despair, she couldn't help but believe that Bucky truly hated her. The thought tore through her like a knife, leaving behind a raw, gaping wound that no amount of time or distance could ever hope to heal.

As she sat alone in the suffocating silence of the kitchen, y/n felt the full weight of her heartbreak descend upon her like a tidal wave. She was lost in a sea of pain and sorrow, drowning in the agony of losing someone she had loved so deeply, so completely. And in that moment, she couldn't help but wonder if she would ever find her way back to the surface again.

Unbeknownst to her, Bucky lingered just out of sight, his heart heavy with guilt. He wanted to go back, to take back his harsh words and hold her close, to chase away the tears that stained her cheeks. But the poison in his mind was too strong, clouding his judgement and trapping him in a cycle of self-destructive despair. And so, with a heavy heart, he turned and walked away, leaving y/n to cry alone in the darkness.

The mission had already been tense enough, but as y/n found herself face to face with Jen in a location she wasn't supposed to be, the atmosphere crackled with an added layer of hostility. It was as if fate had conspired to place them in this confrontation, and her jaw clenched involuntarily as she braced herself for what was to come.

Jen's presence in that spot was no coincidence, and she knew it. Her suspicions were confirmed as Jen turned to face her, a smirk playing on her lips, a gleam of malice in her eyes. y/n's grip tightened on her weapon, her pulse quickening as she prepared for the verbal assault she knew was coming.

"How does it feel, knowing that Bucky hates you now?" Jen's words sliced through the air like a knife, each syllable carrying the weight of y/n’s deepest fears. It was a direct hit, striking at the core of her insecurities, and for a moment, she felt as though the ground had been ripped out from beneath her feet.

But she refused to let Jen see her falter. With a steely resolve, she squared her shoulders and met Jen's gaze head-on, her expression a mask of defiance. She may have been shaken by Jen's words, but she refused to let them break her.

Ignoring the taunts, she focused on the mission at hand, determined to prove her worth despite Jen's attempts to undermine her. But with each passing moment, the weight of Jen's words hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over y/n’s every move.

It was a battle on two fronts – against the enemy they faced together, and against the doubts that threatened to consume her from within. But she refused to back down, drawing strength from the knowledge that she fought not just for herself, but for the team she believed in with all her heart.

But Jen's relentless barrage of insults made it difficult to concentrate, her words like daggers slicing through y/n’s defenses.

"Aww come on y/n, bet you’re reeling in the loss right now, aren’t you." Jen continued, her voice ice cold. "The Asset’s little lapdog, clinging to him like a lost puppy."

y/n’s temper flared at the insult, her grip tightening on her weapon as she fought to keep her emotions in check. But Jen's mocking laughter only fueled the fire burning within her, pushing her to the brink of her patience. "Shut your mouth, Jen," she growled, her voice low and dangerous. "Or I swear to God, I'll make sure that the team finds your body disassembled in one of these rooms."

Jen simply rolled her eyes, unfazed by her threat. "You love him that much, huh?" y/n had no intention to deny that fact; she does love him, "More than you ever could." her voice was firm and true. Jen’s smirk fell as she scoffed. "Ain't that cute, the Winter Soldier and his little psycho sweetheart."

Before y/n could respond, a voice cut through the tension like a knife, freezing her in place. It was Bucky, his expression dark and stormy as he stepped into view. "What's going on here?" he demanded, his eyes narrowing in suspicion as he took in the scene before him.

y/n’s heart sank as she realized that Bucky might have heard everything. She turned around to meet his eyes and his face confirmed her suspicion; he heard it.  Bucky had heard everything – every taunt, every insult, every word exchanged between her and Jen; even the confession of her true feelings. She met his gaze; searching for some sign of understanding of his emotions and the little that she saw was: disappointment, betrayal and guilt, mirrored back at her in the depths of his stormy blue eyes. 

In that moment, all she wanted to do was pull him into her arms, to pull him away from all the painful memories and hurtful words; so far away that he would forget he had ever been taunted, betrayed, or made to feel less than he was.

Before she could utter a word, let alone take a step towards him, Jen's voice broke through, but it lacked the usual confidence. "Bucky, it's not what you think," she stammered, her eyes darting nervously between Bucky and y/n. "I-I was just..."

y/n’s clenched her jaw, her patience wearing thin as Jen stumbled over her words, unable to come up with a coherent explanation. She could see the confusion and hurt in Bucky's eyes, a reflection of the turmoil raging within her own heart.

"I-I mean," Jen continued, her voice faltering. "I was...um...just trying to...uh..."

But her feeble attempts to justify her actions only served to further incense Bucky. His brow furrowed in anger, his fists clenched at his sides as he struggled to make sense of the situation.

"Enough," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "I don't want to hear any more lies."

y/n’s heart ached as she watched Bucky's expression darken with anger and disappointment. She wanted to explain, to tell him the truth about Jen's betrayal and her own misguided attempt to defend him. But the words caught in her throat, choked by the weight of her guilt and regret.

With a heavy sigh, Bucky turned away, his shoulders slumped with defeat. "Let's just finish the mission," he muttered, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "We'll deal with this later."

As he was about to walk away, y/n noticed a red dot on his chest, the unmistakable mark of a sniper's laser sight. Without thinking twice, she leaped towards him, her body acting as a human shield. Time seemed to slow down as she collided with Bucky, pushing him out of the way.

"y/n, no!" Bucky shouted, his voice filled with panic as her body slumped against his chest.

In the chaos, Jen was nowhere to be seen. She had slipped away, taking shelter and ultimately fleeing the area as she heard multiple footsteps approaching.

Bucky tried to pull up his gun, but it was too late. An array of bullets rained down on them. He felt the searing pain of a few shots piercing his own flesh, but it was nothing compared to the sight of y/n’s body being riddled with bullets. She was hit in the shoulder, wrist, thighs, and other places Bucky couldn't even register.

Rage surged through Bucky like an inferno, obliterating any semblance of restraint. He moved with a deadly precision, his eyes blazing with fury as he unleashed a storm of bullets on the enemy. His movements were swift and unforgiving, every shot finding its mark with brutal accuracy. The enemy fell one by one, their bodies collapsing in lifeless heaps. The air was filled with the deafening sound of gunfire and the acrid smell of gunpowder, but Bucky's focus was unyielding.

Within moments, the room was cleared, the enemies wiped out in a flurry of rage-fueled vengeance.

The adrenaline ebbed away, leaving Bucky standing amidst the carnage, his chest heaving. He turned, and his eyes fell on y/n's crumpled form. The sight of her lying in a pool of her own blood shattered his rage, replacing it with a crushing wave of worry and panic.

"Hang in there. Please," Bucky hastily spoke, his voice trembling. He activated his com line, desperation seeping into his tone. "Guys, we need help. y/n... she's... she's been shot. We need to get out of here right now!" Panic coursed through him as he turned his attention back to y/n, frantically trying to stop the bleeding on her stomach. "y/n, doll…please" he pleaded, watching her hazy gaze. "Don't you dare give up on me now. Come on."

"babydoll, stay with me!" Bucky cried, his voice breaking as he cradled her in his arms. Blood soaked through her clothes, staining his hands. "Please, hang on, you can’t leave yet. I haven't told you... I haven't—" 

Her eyes fluttered open, her breathing shallow and ragged. "It's okay, Bucky," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the chaos. "It's okay. Don't cry." Her shaking hands struggled to move, and with great effort, she managed to cup Bucky's cheek. The gesture was weak but filled with tenderness. "It's okay," she repeated, her fingers trembling against his skin.

"Don't talk like that," Bucky choked out, his own tears mingling with the blood on his face. "You can't.. I haven't told you...please doll..." His voice wavered with the weight of unspoken words and unconfessed feelings. He hadn't told her how much he truly cared for her, how every moment spent away from her felt like an eternity. He hadn't begged for forgiveness for his coldness, his mistakes, and for letting Jen's poison taint his actions. The guilt gnawed at him, each heartbeat a reminder of the words he hadn't said, the emotions he hadn't expressed. 

He pressed her hand harder against his cheek, feeling the warmth of her touch anchoring him in the moment.Her hand weakly brushing against his cheek. "I know, sweetheart," she murmured. "I know."

Bucky's heart shattered as he clung to her, feeling her life slipping away. "No, no, no," he muttered desperately. "You can't leave me. Please, y/n. Please."

She smiled faintly, her eyes closing. "I'm here, Bucky. I'm right here."

With a final, shuddering breath, y/n’s consciousness slipped away. Bucky felt a surge of panic, but he knew he had to move. He lifted her limp body, cradling her against his chest as he ran towards the quinjet. Each step was agony, his own injuries slowing him down, but he didn't care. All that mattered was getting y/n to safety.

"Hang on, y/n," he whispered, his voice trembling. "Hang on. I won't let you go."

In the sterile environment of the medical bay, y/n lay unconscious, her body hooked up to various machines that monitored her vital signs. Bucky sat by her bedside, his eyes red-rimmed and swollen from crying. Every beep of the monitor seemed to echo through the silence, a haunting reminder of her fragile state. He held her hand, his thumb gently caressing her bandaged wrist.

Memories of their time together flooded Bucky's mind, each one a bittersweet reminder of the connection they shared. He remembered the laughter they had shared, the late-night conversations that stretched into the early hours of the morning. He remembered the gentle touch of her hand, the warmth of her smile that never failed to chase away the darkness.

But amidst the memories, there was also pain – the pain of their last conversation, the words left unsaid and the choices left unmade. Bucky's throat tightened as he recalled the day he had walked away from Jen, the air thick with tension and unspoken truths.

His voice was cold and final. "You almost got her killed, Jen," he had said, his eyes blazing with anger. "Stay away from us. Stay away from me."

Jen's eyes had flashed with anger, her words cutting like knives as she lashed out in frustration. "And what, you think you'll find someone better than me?" she had spat, her voice dripping with venom. "Good luck with that, Bucky. You'll never find anyone who would put up with your baggage."

But Bucky had remained resolute, his decision fueled by a sense of longing and regret that threatened to consume him whole. "Maybe not," he had admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I'd rather be alone than with someone who doesn't truly care about me."

Now, as Bucky sat by y/n’s bedside, the weight of his decision bore down on him like a crushing weight. Tears welled in his eyes as he reached out to gently brush a strand of hair away from her face, his fingers trembling with emotion.

"I'm so sorry, babydoll," he whispered, his voice thick with unshed tears. "I never meant for any of this to happen. So, please, wake up. I need you."

But y/n remained unconscious, her breathing shallow and weak as she lay before him. And as Bucky watched over her, his heart heavy with worry and regret, he vowed to do whatever it took to bring her back to him, to keep her safe from harm for all eternity.

For in that moment, Bucky realized that he couldn't bear to lose her – not now, not ever. She was his rock, his anchor in a world of uncertainty and pain. And as he held her hand tightly in his own, he prayed with all his heart that she would find her way back to him, to the love and light that had always guided them through the darkness.

The soft hum of machines filled the air as y/n stirred awake, her senses slowly coming back to her. She blinked, disoriented at first, until her gaze fell upon Bucky, who was sleeping soundly in the chair beside her bed. His hands were clasped tightly around hers, his face peaceful in slumber, but she couldn't help but notice the tear stains on his cheeks, the dark circles under his eyes, the worry lines etched into his forehead.

"How long has it been since?" she wondered to herself, her heart aching at the sight of Bucky's exhausted form. She carefully sat up, trying not to disturb him as she lovingly examined his sleeping face. She couldn't help but smile as she gently ran her fingers through his hair, the soft strands slipping through her fingertips.

Bucky groaned as his sleep was interrupted, muttering something about Sam needs to leave him be; before he abruptly sat up, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Hi there," y/n greeted softly, her eyes sparkling with affection as she watched Bucky's reaction.

For a moment, Bucky seemed unable to comprehend that she was finally awake. His eyes widened in disbelief, his mouth slightly agape. But then the realization hit him, and he threw himself at her, wrapping her in a tight embrace as if she were the most precious thing in the world .Despite the pain that shot through her body, she managed to let out a soft chuckle, returning his embrace with equal fervor. The warmth of his embrace chased away the lingering chill of unconsciousness, and for a moment, everything felt right.

"y/n..." Bucky breathed into her neck, his voice trembling with emotion. She hummed in response, her heart swelling for him. "Hmmm?"

Not wanting to let go of her, Bucky called her name once again, his voice wavering with uncertainty. "y/n-..." She paused, her lips curving into a tender smile as she whispered in his ear, "Yes, Bucky?"

Bucky tightened his grip, his breath hitching in his throat as he buried his face in her shoulder. y/n gently rubbed his back, her touch soothing and comforting as she reassured him, "I'm here, sweetheart." The scent of her hair, the feel of her warmth against him—it all felt overwhelming. Emotions churned inside him like a tempest. Relief, guilt, love, and fear battled for dominance, leaving him raw and exposed.

She gently rubbed his back, her touch soothing and comforting as she reassured him, "Bucky, I'm not going anywhere.

Bucky's mind raced, images of the past few weeks flashing before his eyes. He remembered the coldness with which he'd treated her, the cruel words that had slipped from his lips, fueled by Jen's poison. He thought of the sleepless nights, the nightmares that had gripped him, and the aching void he'd felt every time he saw y/n’s hurt expression.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice muffled against her shoulder. "For everything. For not believing you. For pushing you away."

Reluctantly, she pulled away, but not before wiping the tears from Bucky's cheeks and fighting the urge to place a tender kiss on his forehead. As she looked into his eyes, she could see the depth of his love and the pain he had endured for her sake. And in that moment, she knew that she had found her home in his arms. Bucky took her hands in his own, his eyes closed as he pressed a kiss to her wounded wrists. "This will never happen again. Ever," he vowed, his voice filled with determination.

Moved by his words, y/n felt her heart flutter with emotion. She realized in that moment that she could never stay angry at him, no matter what had transpired between them. She understood now that they were both at fault, both victims of circumstance and misunderstanding.

With a surge of courage, she reached out and pulled Bucky into a kiss. Her lips met his in a slow, passionate embrace, pouring all of her love and forgiveness into the tender gesture. It was a moment of connection, of healing, of reaffirming their bond despite the trials they had faced.

The taste of Bucky's lips was like a soothing salve to her soul; it was intoxicating. It felt as if the world had fallen away, leaving only the two of them entwined in each other's arms. When they finally broke apart, Bucky whispered those three words that y/n had longed to hear, "I love you."

Her heart soared with joy, and she couldn't help but tease him, "Took you long enough." her teasing words met with a cheeky grin from Bucky.  "I love you too, Bucky" she blinked slowly. As he whispered softly under his breath, "Come here," he pulled her back into the kiss, their lips meeting in a tender embrace that spoke volumes of their unspoken love. And in that moment, amidst the chaos and uncertainty of their world, they found solace in each other's arms, knowing that together, they could weather any storm.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: I just needed to let this out lmao. It's been stuck in my head for several weeks. Thank you for spending your time reading this crap... honestly. Love you so much 🤍

[just-aake]

Christmas Together

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: It's Christmas Eve, and Natasha arrives at her daughter's ballet recital, only to discover a small problem.

Warnings: fluff

Words: 2896

Stepping outside the brightly lit school building into the crisp night air, you pull your jacket tightly around yourself, bracing against the sharp bite of the snowy Christmas Eve wind. 

The muffled sound of excited chatter and laughter filters through the heavy doors behind you as you retrieve your phone from your pocket. You don’t need to look at the screen to dial anything; her number is the first on the list of your favorite contacts. 

Pressing the call button, you glance around, offering polite smiles and nods to the other parents and guests who stream past you into the building, bundled in scarves and coats, their faces glowing with anticipation. 

Your breath clouds in the freezing air as the phone rings, each chime making your stomach twist a little tighter. 

On the third ring, the line clicks, and you speak quickly, barely giving her a chance to greet you.

“Natasha, where are you?” you ask urgently. “The show starts soon.”  

There’s a muffled grunt on her end, followed by a sharp thud that makes your heart skip. Then her voice finally comes through, faintly breathless but steady.

“I’m on my way, moya lyubov.” 

You exhale sharply, your breath fogging the cold night air. But before you can relax, there’s a distant boom on the line—small but unmistakable. Your pulse quickens.

“Natasha—” you start, the question already forming.

“I’m okay,” she interrupts quickly, her tone firm and reassuring. “I’m fine. Don’t worry.” 

You lean against the cold brick wall, shoulders sagging with a mix of exasperation and concern. 

This is the perpetual tightrope of being married to Natasha Romanoff—one moment, she’s your wife, the woman you share quiet, mundane moments with. The next, she’s an Avenger, her world filled with danger and unpredictability.

A sudden gust of icy wind cuts through your coat, making you shiver and clench your jaw to stop your teeth from chattering. 

Natasha must hear it because her voice softens, tinged with concern.

“Are you outside in this weather?” she asks, the slight edge of disapproval unmistakable. 

“It’s too noisy to hear anything inside,” you reply defensively. 

The warmth and bustle inside the building are a stark contrast to the biting cold out here, but you needed the quiet.

You glance back toward the entrance, catching glimpses of parents and grandparents eagerly chatting, their hands clutching bouquets and cameras. The auditorium is filling fast, the anticipation palpable as everyone waits for the ballet recital to begin.

“I just…I wanted to check in,” you admit, your voice softening as you think about the conversation you had earlier with your daughter behind the stage. 

Her small hands had tugged at your sleeve, her wide, hopeful eyes searching yours. 

You let out a small sigh.

“She’s asking if you’re still coming,” you say, your voice thick with emotion. 

On the other end of the line, there’s a brief pause. The sounds of scuffling and distant chaos seem to fade, leaving only Natasha’s steady breathing.

“Get inside, moya lyubov,” she finally says, her voice gentle but resolute. “I promise I’ll be there in time.”

You close your eyes, letting the certainty in her tone wash over you. Natasha has faced impossible odds more times than you can count, and she’s never let you or your daughter down before. 

“Okay,” you reply quietly, your trust in her unshaken.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha bursts through the school doors, her movements swift but controlled. The faint scent of winter snow clings to her Black Widow suit, and her sharp eyes immediately scan the empty hallway. 

A quick glance at her phone tells her she’s still ten minutes early. Relief washes over her, and she takes a deep breath, allowing the warmth of the building to seep in. 

Natasha strides toward the auditorium, intent on finding you and settling in before the performance begins. 

But just as she reaches for the door, she hears the soft pitter-patter of little footsteps behind her. 

She turns, instinctively dropping her defensive stance when she sees the familiar streak of red hair flying toward her.

“Mama!”

The little girl barrels into Natasha, wrapping her small arms tightly around her legs. Her face buries into Natasha’s suit, her muffled breaths quick and uneven. 

Natasha immediately returns the embrace, her heart softening as she strokes her daughter’s hair. 

“Hello, Lena,” Natasha whispers gently, her voice soothing. She uses the nickname affectionately—a nod to her sister, Yelena, whom Lena adores and calls “Aunty Yelena.”

But Lena doesn’t respond to her greeting, her head remaining firmly tucked against Natasha’s body. 

Her small shoulders tremble slightly, and Natasha can feel her little hands gripping the fabric of her suit tightly.

Concern flickers across Natasha’s face. She glances up, spotting you standing a few steps away. 

You’re standing with your arms crossed, your expression a mix of worry and exasperation. When her gaze meets yours, she tilts her head slightly, silently asking for an explanation.

You sigh, offering a helpless shrug before mouthing the words, She’s scared. 

Natasha’s brows knit together. 

Without hesitation, she kneels fully, carefully extracting herself from Lena’s grasp to bring herself to her daughter’s eye level. Her hands move with practiced tenderness as she brushes the unruly strands of red hair away from Lena’s face.

“Lena,” Natasha coaxes, her voice warm and patient. “What’s wrong?”

Lena shakes her head, refusing to look up. Instead, she leans forward, burying her face into Natasha’s shoulder, wrapping her arms around her again.

“Too many,” she mumbles, her voice trembling.

“Too many people?” Natasha asks gently, and Lena nods, her lower lip quivering.

Natasha’s heart clenches. 

She remembers all too well the fear of performing under a watchful audience, though for very different reasons. 

But this isn’t about her—it’s about her daughter.

“Do you still want to do this?” Natasha asks, her tone careful. “It’s okay if you don’t. We can go home.” 

Lena pulls back slightly, her tearful eyes searching Natasha’s face. There’s hesitation, a flicker of doubt, but beneath it, Natasha sees something unmistakable—determination. 

Her little girl is scared, but she doesn’t want to quit. 

A small smile plays on Natasha’s lips as an idea forms. 

“What if I join you on stage?” she offers, her tone light and inviting.

Lena’s face scrunches in thought before a soft pout emerges. 

“But you don’t know the dance,” she murmurs, her voice tinged with uncertainty. 

Natasha raises an eyebrow, feigning offense. 

“Did you forget who I am?” she teases, her voice taking on a dramatic flair. “I’m a superhero!” 

Without warning, Natasha launches a playful tickle attack, her fingers finding the sensitive spots along Lena’s sides.

“Whatever you need, I’m here for you.” 

Lena bursts into giggles, squirming as she tries to fend off her mother’s relentless fingers. The sound of her laughter rings through the hallway, chasing away the tension that had hung in the air moments before. 

Natasha grins, feeling the warmth of the moment seep into her chest.

When Lena’s laughter finally subsides, Natasha stands, brushing off her suit, and glances toward you. 

“Can you ask her teacher if there’s a spare pair of ballet slippers?” she asks with a faint smirk.

You hesitate, your expression shifting to one of quiet concern. 

Natasha’s relationship with ballet is something you’ve never been able to forget—the Red Room, the forced lessons and training, the precision that was more weapon than art.

“Natasha,” you say carefully, your voice tinged with worry. “Are you sure about this?”

She meets your gaze head-on, her green eyes steady and resolute. There’s no shadow of the pain she once carried in them. Instead, there’s something else entirely—resolve, a quiet strength, and even a spark of joy.

“I’m sure,” Natasha replies, her hand resting gently on Lena’s shoulder. She smiles, a genuine, heartfelt smile that lights up her face. “I want to dance with my daughter.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

You return to your seat, settling in as Natasha and Lena make their final preparations behind the stage. Your hands work to turn on the camcorder, ensuring it’s ready to capture the moment. 

As you adjust the settings, a low commotion at the back of the auditorium catches your attention.

Murmurs ripple through the audience, accompanied by the sound of heavy boots and the faint clinking of metal. 

Turning around, you spot the unmistakable figures of the Avengers entering the room, drawing stares of awe and excitement from the surrounding parents and guests. They’re still dressed in their battle gear, dusted with dirt and scratches from whatever fight they must have just finished. 

Steve spots you first, his sharp eyes scanning the room before landing on you. He calls and gestures for the others to follow as they weave through the rows toward the seats you had saved.

“Where’s Nat?” Steve asks as he sets his shield carefully on the ground beneath his seat, his tone casual despite the circumstances.

“She’s backstage with Lena, getting ready,” you reply, amused as you watch the team settle in. 

Wanda sits beside Clint as he removes his quiver, propping it against the seat beside him, while Thor tries to wedge Mjölnir under the narrow chair legs, much to the whispered amazement of nearby onlookers. Bruce tries to adjust his torn shirt before sheepishly giving you a grateful nod when you pass him your jacket, while Sam nudges Bucky, who’s muttering something about how much he hates crowds. 

Tony, true to form, leans forward over Steve and waves dismissively at your camcorder. 

“Come on, that thing’s archaic. Enjoy the show and let the suit handle it—I’ll have a 4K file sent to you before the night’s over.” 

You roll your eyes but concede, stowing the camcorder away. 

Knowing Tony, he’s probably not joking.

The lights dim, signaling the start of the performance. A hush falls over the audience, and your heart beats in anticipation as the curtains part to reveal the young dancers in their opening positions. 

You immediately spot Lena, her red hair tied back into a neat bun, standing in formation with the other children. Her posture is straight, but you can see her nerves in how her eyes dart across the audience. 

Then, she finds you. 

Her gaze softens, and her little shoulders visibly relax when she sees your encouraging smile. Her eyes shift slightly to the row beside you, where the familiar faces of the Avengers sit. 

Thor gives her an exaggerated thumbs-up while Clint offers a subtle nod of approval. 

Lena’s lips curve into a faint smile, and the tension in her posture begins to melt away.

Her gaze then moves to the stage, where Natasha stands poised in position with the ballet teacher, seamlessly blending in with the other performers. Natasha catches Lena’s eye and gives her a subtle, playful wink. 

That’s all it takes to bring a brighter smile to Lena’s face.

The soft strains of the piano begin, the timeless melody of The Nutcracker filling the room. 

The dancers spring into motion, their movements light and deliberate. Your eyes follow Natasha and Lena, the pair moving in perfect sync with the other performers. 

Natasha glides effortlessly across the stage, her movements precise and graceful. Yet her focus is on Lena, her face alight with a rare softness as she watches her daughter perform. 

Lena, bolstered by the presence of her mother and the familiar faces in the audience, dances with a newfound confidence. Her steps are fluid, and her timing is impeccable. 

You feel your heart swell as you watch them. 

Natasha’s expression is one of pride and joy, her past struggles with ballet fading into insignificance as she turns something once painful into a beautiful moment with her daughter.

When the final notes of the piano fade, the dancers hold their ending positions, and the audience erupts into thunderous applause. 

The sound is overwhelming, and yet Lena doesn’t seem to notice. 

As if breaking from the performance mindset, she darts toward Natasha with a gleeful laugh, throwing her arms around her mother’s waist. 

Natasha catches her effortlessly, spinning her in a small circle before holding her close.

From the stage, Natasha looks out into the crowd, her eyes easily finding yours. She holds your gaze for a moment, her expression softening even more as she reads your reaction, and you blow her a kiss, clapping enthusiastically along with the rest of the audience.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

You carefully top off the mugs of hot chocolate with a generous sprinkle of tiny marshmallows, the warm aroma filling the kitchen as you place them on a tray. Balancing the tray in your hands, you head to the living room where Natasha and Lena are sitting. 

The sight that greets you as you round the corner softens your expression instantly. 

Lena is nestled against Natasha’s side, her head resting on her mother’s shoulder, eyes closed in peaceful slumber. Her little hand clutches a blanket loosely, a faint smile still lingering on her face, as if her dreams were carrying her through the joy of the evening. 

Natasha looks down at her with a tenderness that never fails to move you. 

“Hot chocolate delivery,” you whisper, setting the tray on the coffee table. 

Natasha carefully takes a mug, her free hand brushing Lena’s hair gently.

“I guess catching Santa isn’t happening this year,” you remark quietly as you sit on the other side of Natasha, picking up your own mug. 

Natasha chuckles softly, her voice low and warm. 

“She got closer this time—almost made it to midnight.”

You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips as you watch your little girl, her steady breaths a soothing rhythm in the cozy glow of the Christmas tree lights. 

After a moment, Natasha carefully sets her mug down, shifting her weight to lift Lena into her arms. 

“I’ll tuck her in.”

You nod, watching as Natasha cradles Lena with ease. 

There’s a protective air about her, a quiet instinct to ensure Lena’s safety and comfort, even in the simplest of acts. 

As Natasha heads to Lena’s room, you take the opportunity to retrieve the hidden presents you’d stashed away earlier. The pile is a mix of brightly wrapped boxes, their bows glinting under the tree’s twinkling lights as you carefully place each one in its spot. 

You’re positioning the last box under the tree when Natasha reappears in the doorway. Her expression shifts instantly, her eyes widening as she realizes where you are.

“Wait, Lena put–” Natasha begins, but it’s too late. 

A soft click echoes from behind the curtains when your hand releases the box. Before you can react, a net springs from its hidden position, entangling you in one swift motion. 

You yelp in surprise as the net tightens around you, sending you to the ground in an unceremonious heap. 

“–a trap there for Santa,” Natasha finishes with a wince, rushing forward to help as you let out an exasperated groan.

She kneels beside you, stifling a chuckle as she starts working to untangle the net. 

“She gets this from your side of the family,” you grumble playfully, earning a laugh from Natasha.

“Probably,” she admits with a smirk. “I bet Yelena gave her the idea.”

As the net loosens, you sit up, brushing stray strands of rope from your lap. 

“Speaking of Yelena, she and your parents are flying in tomorrow morning, right?” 

Natasha nods, leaning back against the base of the sofa. 

“Yeah. They should get here before Lena wakes up.”

You settle beside her, resting your head lightly against her shoulder. Her arm drapes around you automatically, pulling you closer as you both gaze at the tree, now adorned with gifts.

“That’s perfect,” you say softly. “We’ll open presents together.”

Natasha’s gaze lingers on the presents under the tree, her expression distant. A slow, almost disbelieving breath escapes her lips, drawing your attention. 

“What is it?” you ask gently, sensing the shift in her mood.

Natasha hesitates before speaking, her voice tinged with wistfulness. 

“There was a time, years ago, when I was undercover. We had to stage family photos for our cover. I remember being surrounded by Christmas presents—dozens of them. Even though I knew they weren’t real, I wanted to believe it was.”

Her eyes meet yours, soft and filled with gratitude. 

“I never thought I’d get to have this. A real home. A family. Moments like this. And it’s because of you. You gave me this life I never thought was possible.”

Your chest tightens with emotion at her words. Smiling, you cup her face, your thumb brushing gently along her cheekbone. You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, pouring every ounce of love and reassurance you can into the gesture. 

When you pull back, you echo the words she’d spoken earlier to Lena. 

“Whatever you need, I’m here for you.”

Natasha laughs softly, her eyes glistening as she tilts her forehead against yours. The sound is warm and filled with love. As she leans in to kiss you again, the clock chimes, its soft tones signaling the arrival of midnight.

Natasha pauses, her lips brushing yours as she whispers, “Merry Christmas, moya lyubov.”

You smile against her lips. “Merry Christmas, Nat.”

And as her lips find yours once more, the world outside seems to fade, leaving only the warmth of the moment, the glow of the tree, and the quiet joy of Christmas shared together.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: This came out later than I wanted 😅, but I still hope everyone has a merry christmas and a happy holidays! Thank you for all the support over the past year! Hopefully, we'll continue together and have fun in the upcoming year.

Side note: I just realized that the my recent update on the series Feline Connection is not showing in the tags (at least for me), so I just wanted to let those know who follow the series that the next part is out.

[baphometsss]

I don't wanna sit here and act like I'm a professional or anything, because I'm not, but as someone who has had to do a lot of work to overcome trauma and reconfigure my brain more or less from the ground up, there's a lot I have to say about Solas's mental state

We know that Solas was essentially used and abused by Mythal for millennia. Even if he wasn't under a geas, he was twisted from his purpose by being made to fight, and then created the Wolf's Fang which was used to make the Titans tranquil and started the Blights. He made those choices himself, but it's important to understand that no choice is ever made in a vacuum. She took advantage of his vulnerability when he was given a body after however long as a spirit semi-existing peacefully in the Fade, and moulded him into a weapon.

He is broken, because Mythal broke him. I'm not incapable of seeing why she did what she did because like I said, no one makes choices in a vacuum and I could write about her for a long time too (in a similar way to how I have had to do myself in my own life in understanding why others abused me). He was so traumatised by everything that happened and he was trauma bonded to Mythal pretty much from the minute he gained a body. Trauma bonds are not about love. He definitely interpreted it that way, as most people do, but that's the weapon abusers use to keep the victim under their control. Abuse abuse abuse show a scrap of love and then abuse some more. If I just take it, I'll get the love/attention I need. I will earn it, because love is suffering, and I have to suffer to earn getting my basic needs met from my family/friends. Mythal, as his creator, was the one who he would've attached to in a similar way to spirit Cole/human Cole.

Trauma bonds are pathological. Mythal made him believe that if he did as she asked, and kept supporting her, then eventually he would gain her favour and they would be able to free all the elves, and he'd be able to live according to his true nature, which is one where he doesn't have to fight. (Remember his personal quest in DAI? He actually kills the rebel mages for corrupting his friend--another Wisdom spirit--into Pride.) In reality, she was just using him. She always kept the bone just out of reach for her lapdog. The line from Rook where they say (paraphrasing here) 'you know, I was actually excited about getting your approval... That's how you do it, isn't it? Keep giving little scraps of approval to keep someone loyal, and then you turn around and betray them' is so telling too.

Where--or from whom--do you think he learned to do this?

It literally reeks of a pathological trauma bond and honestly, with how isolated, 'grim and fatalistic' Solas is, it is not a surprise that he's so broken.

Solas, essentially, is little more than a lap-dog to Mythal. He followed her like a lost puppy, because especially in his early days, that's kind of what he was. You have to remember that most of the insight we get about Mythal is from Solas's perspective, and he is not a reliable person when it comes to her after so long being repeatedly terrorised and twisted and manipulated. There are several instances where he describes being betrayed by her, and mentions some of the things she did, but he never quite holds her fully accountable and ends up directing his rage elsewhere. (The parallel between Mythal/Solas and the rebel mages/Wisdom is important here.)

This awesome post by @mythalism only reinforces this. He is so messed up in that scene, he is broken, he is holding the Wolf's Fang up, trying to give it to her because it symbolises the burden he has carried for thousands of years trying to avenge her death. He never wanted the Fang, like he never wanted a body. Mythal just stands over him, fully aware of what she did to him, and only getting him to stop because Rook petitioned her successfully, and the reunion with the more benevolent Mythal within Morrigan tempered her anger. She was a goddess, with the unequal power dynamic, right to the end.

As a side note, on the potential romance element between Mythal and Solas, I read an excellent breakdown of it on Reddit a while ago about how out of character it would've been for Solas to keep something like that from a romanced Lavellan, especially in Trespasser when he comes clean about his plan/past. I can't find it now because it was pre-Veilguard release, but it made a lot of sense to me. Solas and Lavellan never have a love scene in DAI because Solas didn't want to 'lay with them under false pretences'. Lying about who you are when sleeping with someone is nonconsensual. You can't consent to sleeping with someone if you don't know their true identity, and someone who knowingly lies about who they are to get into your pants is a sexual predator. For someone who led a slave rebellion (no doubt many of them being sex slaves), and a former spirit of Wisdom, Solas would've been well aware of this. In the unsent letter from Solas to Lavellan he says he came so close to breaking and desperately wanted to stay with them as Solas, with the implication being that that is where he planned to sleep with them once he'd come clean. But because he stops, because he's still unable to forgive himself or release himself from his trauma bond with Mythal, he breaks away, and they never have sex.

Bottom line: Solas would've been honest about it. Especially that. As the Inquisitor says, he can't lie about his heart.

And it's why the Solas/Lavellan romance is so powerful because quote, 'you change everything'. Solas thought he knew what love was, that love was loyalty, devotion, worship, etc. It's not just his plans or worldview that Lavellan changes. Lavellan sees him for who he is, without the mantle of Dread Wolf, and because of that he's able to express his true nature to her, even if he's not being totally honest in Inquisition. Lavellan got much closer to the real him than most, as he says, and changed his understanding of love completely. Unfortunately, he has unfinished business, an unresolved trauma bond, and his crushing sense of duty to the past is what keeps him from taking that final step towards letting go of it entirely. Trick also says Solas doesn't think he deserves love, which tbh is kind of a hallmark trait of people who have survived abuse.

And honestly? Call me a simp but I think he really was trying to get the Inquisitor to stop him. He saw himself being unable to let go because he was so broken and burdened by his guilt, and knew he couldn't save himself--was too proud to admit that he couldn't, because how pathetic does it make him look? And how could he stop now without rendering all the damage he'd wrought pointless? Yet here was someone who had changed him right down to his core, who understood him in a way few people ever had, whom he trusted, whom he loved in a way he hadn't loved anyone else before. It took him 'centuries' to build up rapport with the members of his rebellion. The man does not know how to form attachments without trauma, and suddenly he forms a strong one with someone who loves him completely and without condition. It's a jarring change.

Lavellan says that maybe they're being prideful themselves, refusing to see their own folly. But I think in admitting that they might be wrong, that it might be wishful thinking borne from misguided love to a truly terrible person, they've rendered the point moot. It shows self-awareness, which isn't folly.

If anyone can make Solas understand true love, it's Lavellan. Lavellan loved him when he was being his true self. Lavellan loved him after his betrayal was revealed. Lavellan loved him when his guilty conscience and terrible actions almost destroyed the world. Lavellan loved him because they knew the real him, and knew that his heart and spirit were broken, and knew that their love would endure, that their love would heal him.

And that's exactly where they end up. Healing the past, soothing the Blight, and loving one another completely.

[waywardcrow]

Dress.

Summary: After a mission where they crossed a line, Bucky decides to talk about what happened that night with you.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader.

WC: Almost 1600.

TW: Avengers kind of things, talk about weapons, sad reader and sad Bucky, misunderstendings, agents talking shit because of jealousy, SMUT (do not interact if you're not +18) some kissing, dancing and boners lol, semi public make out, oral (f recieving) fingering, hint of other things but not so much because I'm so bad a t this, sorry, let me know if I missed something.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language, please tell me if I make grammar mistakes.

You hated everything that night, the happy people who were eager to get drunk and forget about the ending year, the music too loud that didn’t let you think, the beautiful dress you bought for that very occasion specifically because you wanted to impress a certain super soldier in the New Year's Eve party but that was before last mission, before you messed it all up.

If you closed your eyes, you could see everything playing perfectly in your mind, how unprofessional you were, how much space Bucky put between you two in the quinjet, the tension that followed you the last days and the words of the agents who probably knew about what happen from him. It was a disaster and you wouldn’t escape from it, Tony would never let you go without an explanation if you requested a transfer to another area.

Distracted, drinking your problems you didn’t noticed Bucky’s gaze tearing apart the pretty gold dress you were wearing as if he could feel your skin against his like that night.

It was a simple mission, find the target, watch it until Valkyrie and Wanda could secured the evidence –an arsenal of Asgardian weapons- and then arrested everyone but your cover was necessary and thanks to your powers, the ability to manipulate brain’s perception to make your audience see what you want- make you perfect to blend with him in that shady club pretending to be just a couple looking for a good time.

Easier to say than done, Bucky fought his boner all night with you dancing too close to him, whispering things in his ear, sitting in his lap… sure you could feel how much he wanted to fuck you there in front of everybody, he indulged in his little fantasy when he feel your own arousal, he told himself it was for the mission when he took you to a semi empty corridor to kiss you dumb.

You tasted better than he imagined, like honey and salvation, Bucky was sure that if he kept kissing you he would find heaven.

“Are you ok, terminator? You look like you’re about to have an aneurysm” Sam pulled him out of his mind just in time before he got in trouble righ there in the middle of the party.

“I’m fine” he wasn’t and Sam let out a chuckle.

“Just go and talk to her, you can’t keep avoiding each other forever.”

You were avoiding him, Bucky just gave you space after you walked away from him when the mission was over, like he didn’t almost cum from having you exactly where he wanted you, with your perfect legs around him with just a thin layer of clothes between you.

“I said I’m fine” he said again, not looking at Sam when you made your way to the elevators, going after you.

It was better for you to leave early, too many drinks and you could end up crying or doing something you’ll regret, like talking to Bucky, who jumped in the elevator you called before the doors closed.

“Going to bed already?” he asked and you stared at him like an idiot, how could he look that good all the damn time? A black suit and white shirt shouldn’t make someone that hot, it was cheating “are you alright, honey?”

How have you missed his voice! A simple taste of him and you wanted more, you wanted him to touch you like that night, like he couldn’t get enough of you, like if time was against you both and every second he wasn’t making you feel all of him was a sacrilege.

“Why are you here, Bucky?”

Cornered, you crossed your arms in front of your chest, drawing his attention to your breasts, the memory of his lips pulling softly at your nipple made you want to close your legs to get some sort of friction, trying to calm the need for him.

Like he could read your mind, he licked his lips, wanting to pull your dress and bury himself in your chest but Bucky needed to have a conversation with you first.

“Are you going to avoid me forever, hon?” the super soldier lifted your chin to make you see him when you set your eyes in your heels “I can take a rejection, sweetheart but not you shutting me out completely.”

Bucky had made lots of friends with time but you were his first one, he didn’t want to lose you; you, in the other hand, were more confused than ever.

“What rejection? If anything, you’re the one who is not interested!” boldness coming from the alcohol made you talk before thinking about stopping “and don’t give me that look James Buchanan Barnes, you know perfectly what I’m talking about.”

The elevators door opened and you stormed out, going to you room, the audacity of that man!

“Can you explain to me what are you talking about?” Bucky took your hand and made you face him when you reached your door, all his cocky attitude was replaced by confusion.

“Please don’t pretend you didn’t tell Carla and Ashley what happen that night, I heard them talking the morning after in the gym” Above all the embarrassment there was hurt, you thought he could be trusted but Bucky proved you were an idiot “they were talking how you hated being assigned with me and to pretend to make out with me.”

Bucky’s heart hammered in his chest, what the hell were you talking about? He didn’t say anything, at all but you looked so sure he couldn’t speak.

“You made it very clear putting distance between us in the ride home but you didn’t have to tell them” your voice trembled, still you refused to cry, if that was the kind of man Bucky was, he didn’t deserve your tears.

“I swear I didn’t say anything, honey, I swear” he promised, making himself small to look at your eyes “I don’t know how they know, please believe me.”

You shake your head; you wanted to believe him but…

“I told no one, I really thought you were mad at me for taking advantage of the situation, that I misread it” he mumbled, desperate to prove you he was telling the truth, taking your face in his hands “I should have been more professional, more of a gentleman, ask you properly on a date, not acting like that, no matter how much I wanted it. That’s why I put space between us; Wanda and Val were looking at me like they would spray me with cold water if I breathed near you.”

Bucky wished you could read his mind to see he was honest but you still could, sensing his desperation matching yours.

“Do you really mean that?”

His heart broke at how unsure you sounded, he would spend every day of his life proving to you how much he meant it.

“I do, honey, you’re not only a friend to me, why do you think I requested to be with you in that mission?” with his arms around your waist, you put your hands in his chest to feel his heartbeat “I can’t be apart from you, I needed you close while I was gathering courage to confess my feelings but then I couldn’t hide it and…”

You interrupted him to kiss him, not giving a damn about anything but Bucky’s lips in yours. He opened the door and you took him with you to your room, tossing his jacket to the floor and taking your heels off.

“You should keep them on” he said between kisses, guiding you to your bed.

“Maybe next time” you promised, opening his dress shirt, he gave you a smirk while he took it off, like he couldn’t wait.

“This dress has to go, even if I love it.”

“I only bought it for you to take it off” you confessed, mesmerized by his hands undressing you before he placed you softly in your bed, earning a grin from him.

“Really? Well, you deserve a reward for thinking about me, honey”

Before you could ask, he was with his knees on the floor, ripping your panties to eat you out like he needed it to keep breathing.

It barely gave you time to let out a lewd moan that only encourage him more, putting your legs in his broad shoulders, nipping at your sensitive bud and teasing your entrance with his fingers.

It was real? It was the alcohol? You could think so if it wasn’t very improbable, your imagination couldn’t make this up, not something this good at least.

“Please” you begged and he shove one finger in you, then almost immediately another while licking you and going back to your clit, moaning at the taste of you, humping the mattress to get some relief, especially when you pulled at his short locks, making him groan.

“Bucky! Pleaseplease…” were the only words you could form but then he decided to replace his fingers with his tongue and you were gone, the orgasm hit you like a thousand waves and you could swear you fainted for a second, only coming back to yourself when you tasted your own arousal in his kiss.

Surprised to being this responsive with him, you kissed him back and he looked at you, fire blazing in his eyes.

“Come back to me, honey, we are just getting started” he promised against your lips and dear God, he was a man of his word. Hors later, the fireworks were loud enough outside but you both couldn’t care less, you finally have what you wanted: each other.

So this is my first time writing smut and I wanted to do it for New year's Eve, it was fun! Tell me what you think and happy new year!

Love, Lily.

[steloiv]

no but fr one of the reasons the early marvel films really go off is because you've never really seen a dynamic that goes off so so hard like cap and tony does. the sheer amount of times they had metal-heavy tension and conflict-of-opinion scenes together is beyond me. in every avenger films, they were always the ones who were butting heads and it's absolutely baffling and intriguing to me how different and opposite their moral principles and personalities are, considering these two are sort of the main leaders of the team. in most avengers conflict, they were always responsible for the main plot points. i very very much adore their dynamic.

LIKE imagine going from these sequences of scenes of them looking hatefully from each other:

to THIS (of them looking at each other with a bone-deep level of understanding of one another)

like be for REAL that "do you trust me" line fucking KILLED me. that's literally the culmination of years of hate and friendship and heartbreak and trust and bond right there people. you can't possibly TOP that. their dynamic is one of the main centers of the mcu, fight me on this

[teshadraws]

Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Seekers of Soul

[Chapter 62]

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AO3 Link

-

Nia and Tobias get some time to relax and check out Kaleido Bay before solidifying their plans to find Xerneas.

“Oh! Tobias, look at these!”

Nia knows this is the fifth time today she’s called him to her side with the same level of excitement, but she can’t help it! Kaleido Bay is just made for overeager tourists like herself.

Besides, Tobias doesn’t seem to mind her enthusiasm. He looks up from the other side of the merchant stall, dry amusement on his face, and wordlessly skirts around other tourists browsing the merchant’s wares to reach her side.

“What did you find now?”

Nia points out her newest marvel: little sculptures crafted out of shells and stones and chunks of coral. They’re lined up across the counter, depicting…Pokemon? Nia thinks they’re supposed to be Pokemon. They’re kind of silly-looking, though, with proportions that even Nia can tell are way off.

They remind her of something she’s seen in the human world, when her and her family visited the beach and perused the endless little shops made specifically for tourists. Shells and rocks and googly-eyes haphazardly glued together to form palm-sized sea turtles and fish.

Tobias cracks a smile, picking up what Nia thinks is supposed to be a pichu. “Didn’t know there was a water type pichu out there.”

“Would that make it a beach-u?”

Tobias barks a laugh.

Nia beams, pleased with her accomplishment. Her eyes linger on her partner, trying to gauge how he’s feeling as he looks through more of the silly figurines.

It’s been nearly two days since their fight with Dismas. Nia’s ribs are finally well enough to walk around—sore, with stabs of pain if she laughs or inhales too deeply, but manageable—so they’d decided to browse the tourist shops of Kaleido Bay before heading back to Will’s settlement. According to Tobias, a merchant cart willing to take passengers is scheduled to leave town in the early afternoon, so they should be able to hitch a ride with them then.

Tobias seems to be doing as well as he can be, considering the circumstances. Nia’s relieved by that. Her heart still hurts every time she remembers his cries the other night, when he wailed into her shoulder and grieved all that he had lost.

“I should’ve died with her. I couldn’t even avenge them! What good am I if I can’t even do that?”

Nia had fought off a burst of panic at those words, staying wide awake even when Tobias had eventually drifted off. She’d held him close with a lump in her throat and frantically wondered if she needed to do something more drastic to keep him safe from himself.

The next day he’d seemed more lost than actively interested in harming himself, but she still felt herself tense every time he drifted off into thought, eyes glassy and brow furrowed, or when he had to leave the room for a few minutes.

He’s still quieter than usual, and that makes her worry, but Nia also can’t help thinking some part of him seems…lighter, almost. Like a weight she’d never noticed him carrying has finally been lifted away.

Even the way Tobias is picking through the merchant’s goods is different. He’s eyeing them with actual interest, which she usually wouldn’t expect from him. She can’t tell if the change is just him trying to distract himself, or if he’s actually letting himself relax for once. Letting himself take in the world around them rather than charging after Team Zenith with no allowance for trivial things.

Maybe Nia is just overly optimistic, but she can’t help hoping something good came from Tobias meeting Dismas and learning the truth.

Tobias snorts, catching Nia’s attention again.

“Look. It’s the jerk from the prison.”

Nia looks at the little shell creature in his hands: a grumpy bipedal sea turtle, with a rocky shell. A carracosta, Nia knows now. Its eyes are mismatched, one higher than the other, giving it a ridiculous expression.

Nia laughs, then winces when the action sends a bolt of pain through her ribs. Tobias winces too, looking torn between apology and being just as smug about making her laugh as she was for him.

“I think I prefer this version,” Nia says, taking the little figure to turn it over in her hands.

It’s cute. Much cuter than the real version they’d met yesterday, at least.

They’d been expecting a visit from the officials at the prison after everything that went down, but Nia still hadn’t been prepared for the carracosta who was sent to inform them of the aftermath of Dismas’ escape and subsequent recapture.

The carracosta did confirm right away that Dismas was safely secured and had been assigned a constant guard for his transfer to an even higher security prison in Ghatha. After his little stunt with the shackles here in Kaleido, they aren’t taking the risk of leaving him alone before his trial.

Tobias��� relief had been palpable after that piece of news, his tight shoulders slumping.

Unfortunately, the agent’s tone had hardened immediately after.

—————————————————

“I do have a matter of security to discuss with you both.”

Nia sends a nervous glance Tobias’ way. He’s holding a poker face better than she is, but she can see the tension hidden in his spine.

The carracosta lets that heavy sentence sit for a moment. Then he continues. “D22 was a high-security prisoner. A D-rank team with no official connection should not have had the clearance to speak with him.”

Nia cringes. They’re not just in trouble, but big trouble. She’d half-expected them to be, with how they’d used Rosalind’s connections to blackmail their way into Dismas’ cell, but…

Well, this is coming back to bite them much sooner than she’d feared it would. Guilt and fear eats at her in equal measure, but she keeps her mouth shut, staring down at her lap.

She doesn’t want them to get in trouble with the law, but she also doesn’t want them to get in trouble with Rosalind. Nia doesn’t want to imagine what the hatterene would do if they sold her out.

Nia half-expects Tobias to lie and get them out of this, but he also stays silent, apparently deciding that such a game would be too dangerous with the authoritative carracosta.

The atmosphere in the room is stifling. Choking. Nia thinks she’s sweating under her fur. Can she sweat? She’s wondered about this before. She’s basically a dog, so she thinks she just sweats through her paws and—

The carracosta grunts. “I see you two are going to be just as stubborn as Jude.”

Jude. The drednaw they blackmailed to let them into the prison. Oh, jeez. What happens if no one talks? They don’t torture people for stuff like this, right? Do they throw them in jail?

Just as panic starts to bloom in earnest in Nia’s chest, the carracosta sighs.

“Fine. We aren’t going to push for a statement that would likely just be a lie.”

While the tone isn’t scolding, per se, and the words aren’t outright condemnation, the meaning is clear.

They messed up. They did something that bent the rules, at best, and the officer in front of them is well aware of that. Even if he can’t accuse them outright.

Nia barely resists looking at Tobias again, swallowing hard and keeping her eyes down.

She can feel the burn of the carracosta’s accusing stare. “Considering you weren’t the direct cause of D22’s escape attempt and you did recapture him, we’ll be lenient this time. Tapu knows he would’ve done more damage without your intervention.”

Nia holds her breath.

“I’ll be letting your guildmaster know to keep an eye on you two for suspicious activity, but we won’t actively restrict you from missions. Consider this strike one on Team Scarlet’s record.”

Nia finally lifts her head to peek at the carracosta, unsure how to feel. Part of her didn’t even think they could get a mark on their record like that. Could their Seeker status be revoked entirely if they got too many?

That thought carves a pit of shame in her stomach. They never should’ve worked with Rosalind in the first place. And they definitely shouldn’t have done something as low as blackmailing Jude, no matter what he might’ve done to get in Rosalind’s books.

Is he going to be okay? What if he gets fired from the prison for this?

Nia swallows back tears.

They might be the reason someone loses their job. And they’re going to have a mark on their record. That means August will know about it, right? She can already imagine the shame of talking to their guildmaster with that weight hanging over their head.

Tobias, on the other hand, seems relieved at the sentencing, apparently more aware than Nia of exactly how badly this could’ve gone. He nods. “Thank you.”

The carracosta doesn’t smile. He looks at the two of them for another moment, then simply turns to leave.

“W-Wait!” Nia says, unable to stop herself. She knows asking about Jude would be a stupid idea, and some cowardly part of her doesn’t really want to know. But there are two other Pokemon who have been on her mind ever since waking up here in the clinic.

The carracosta stops.

“The guards. The ones who escorted us into the prison. Are they, um…okay?”

The carracosta looks back at her, something in his sharp expression finally softening. “Miroslav won’t be on duty for a long while, but he’ll live. Toko’s injuries were minimal. She asked that I thank you both for making sure the two of them made it out alive.”

Nia melts with relief. It’s so strong it almost overshadows the guilt she’d been wrestling with before. “Thank you.”

The carracosta leaves without another word.

Nia and Tobias wait another minute in heavy silence. Finally, when they’re both convinced the carracosta is really gone, they exhale.

“Well, that was terrifying,” Nia murmurs, sweeping her hands back over her ears.

Tobias makes a quiet sound of agreement, pinching at his eyes. He looks like he’s thinking hard about something, so Nia watches him and waits while her heart rate slows.

Sure enough, he eventually speaks up. “We shouldn’t take any more missions from Rosalind. At least for a while.”

Nia straightens, surprise clear in her voice. “Really?”

Tobias had never flinched at the idea of working with Rosalind. Even after Asra, when Nia thought it was too dangerous to keep pursuing her leads, he’d been adamant. She would’ve thought that after Dismas, after Rosalind’s lead pulling through more than ever before, he would be even more stubborn.

Tobias huffs a laugh. “I know. Just…”

It’s clear he doesn’t know how to articulate what he’s feeling. Likely wrestling with the fact that they’d almost died—again—as well as the more severe consequences they just barely sidestepped with the law.

Whatever made him change his mind, Nia isn’t going to argue. “I’m fine with that. That guy was almost as terrifying as Rosalind.”

Tobias makes a halfhearted attempt at a laugh.

———————————————————

Even now, surrounded by happy chatter and the tropical beauty of Kaleido Bay, that conversation weighs heavy as stone on Nia’s mind. She hates going against the rules, and she hates getting in trouble. She hates that they have a mark on their record now, and that they’ll have to face August’s disappointed gaze without being able to explain themselves. She hates that they’ll likely never know how their interference affected Jude. Grumpy as he was, she still didn’t want to get him in trouble.

They’re supposed to help people, not hurt them.

Nia sighs, wincing as the motion strains her ribs. Then she shakes her head to dispel the gloomy thoughts. They can’t do anything about it now. She’ll just have to make sure they don’t hurt anyone else in the future. Especially not for their own gain.

Nia and Tobias wander away from the craft merchant’s stall, strolling through the city and taking in the sights. The salty breeze is balanced out nicely by the midmorning sunshine, and the sky overhead is a deep blue that makes the surrounding ocean shimmer. The bright buildings and even brighter merchant stalls are eye-catching and cheery, making for the perfect distraction from anxious thoughts.

The Pokemon crowding past them are clearly in high spirits, too, chatting and laughing with one another as they shop. Families corral excited children who are grasping sweets in sticky paws, and friends nudge one another to point out their next destination. An adorable couple passes by them, linked arm in arm. Mid-conversation, the taller one dips to give the top of their partner’s head an affectionate nuzzle.

Nia smiles at the gesture, then looks at Tobias. To her surprise, he’s also watching the couple, brow furrowed. Nia tilts her head at him, and he quickly glances at her before looking away, face warming as he hurriedly points out the next stall.

It’s a familiar little shop, and Nia perks up. “Oh, the glassblowing shop! Can we look around for a bit? I didn’t really get the chance the other day.”

Tobias nods his agreement, and the two of them split up to peruse the wares carefully laid across the counter of the building’s wraparound stall.

Last time, a blue monkey Pokemon with long, curled hair atop her head had been behind the counter—a simipour, according to Tobias—but this time around the merchant is a stoic-looking fire type, though he too looks strikingly monkey-like. He’s orange like Tobias, with a long fire-tipped tail and intricate blue markings over his eyes. A monferno, Nia thinks.

Nia doesn’t pay him much mind, startled instead by the little blue monkey also flitting about behind the stand, pulling herself up to be able to see over the counter and talk to customers. She’s just a kid, clearly, but for a moment Nia feels a phantom pain on her upper arm, under where her scarf is tied. They’d fought a panpour once before—an outlaw—and for a moment seeing such similar features throws Nia for a loop.

But this panpour is much smaller, and the spitting image of the simipour Nia had spoken with days before. There’s none of the outlaw’s malice on her cheerful little face, and the blue of her fur is a darker hue than his.

Nia manages to pull her eyes away, instead focusing on the beautiful glassworks on the table in front of her, shining and sparkling in the sun. After a moment of hesitation, she dares to pick one up to see it more clearly.

It’s a Pokemon—a seahorse of some kind. Unlike the wonky proportions of the shell figurines they saw earlier, this statue is intentionally styled, the curves of it elegant and acting as a perfect balance to the sharp points of its frills.

Nia carefully puts the statue back, eyes scanning the pieces until she stops at one of the more abstract works. It’s the color that she notices first, a turquoise blue that matches Nia’s aura almost perfectly.

It’s shaped like a flame, or maybe a drop of water, with wisps of glass curving upwards and intertwining with one another. The thinner ends are almost transparent, and the thicker base has incredible depth, blue like springwater.

It’s gorgeous. Nia hesitates before picking it up in her hands, running a thumb over its smooth surface.

She really, really wants to buy it. Maybe she’s just a sucker for souvenirs, but it’s so well-crafted and it feels…personal, almost. Like it was made for her.

Nia examines the little price tag tied around it, frowning. She can afford it, surprisingly, but it would clear out her personal funds entirely. She doesn’t think she can justify spending that much. What if she needs that money later? Or what if Tobias needs it for something that his own funds or the team’s can’t cover?

Nia reluctantly puts the statue back down.

“Aw, I really like that one!”

Nia looks up, surprised to lock eyes with the little panpour. She has her arms crossed on the counter from the other side of the stall, a grin on her face.

“I helped Dad make that, y’know!” She adds, clearly proud.

Nia blinks, glancing over at the monferno. He’s on the other side of the stall and talking with Tobias, who actually seems to be responding willingly, if not a bit awkwardly. His arms are crossed over his chest but his expression is open and oddly attentive.

Man, Nia really wants to know what he could be talking about so happily with a stranger. Maybe he feels more comfortable because they’re both fire types?

But Nia has her own conversation partner.

She smiles at the little monkey. “It’s gorgeous. You did a great job on it!”

The panpour smiles wider, showing off sharp fangs. “I know! Is it just too expensive for you?”

Nia shrugs with a regretful smile. “A bit.”

The panpour doesn’t seem offended, thankfully, just nodding in response. “I’d ask Dad to give you a discount, but he’s real strict about that kind of stuff.”

“It’s a fair price,” a deeper voice calls, and both Nia and the panpour jump, looking over at the child’s father. The monferno is walking over to join their conversation, and he ruffles the poof of fur on the panpour’s head as she shrieks with laughter.

“I-It is!” Nia agrees. “I’m just a bit tight on money right now, unfortunately.”

Tobias trails around the stall after his fellow fire type, stopping at Nia’s side. He tilts his head, scanning the goods. “You wanted to buy something?”

Nia gestures at the blue flame-like statue with a smile. “Isn’t it pretty?”

Tobias picks it up, just as delicately as Nia had. “…It is. Good craftsmanship.”

“You didn’t answer before,” the monferno says gruffly, looking at Tobias. “You interested in glassblowing?”

To Nia’s surprise, Tobias hesitates. He glances at her, as if embarrassed, before nodding. “Couldn’t do it myself, but it’s impressive.”

“Why not?” the panpour chirps, pointing. “You’re a fire type. You have good hands for it.”

Tobias looks uncomfortable, shrugging. “Don’t have time to learn. I’m a Seeker.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to be a Seeker forever!” the panpour says brightly.

The monferno grunts in agreement. “You don’t have to make a career of it, either. Let me know if you’re ever interested in learning and I can help you get started.”

Nia blinks, surprised by the generous offer.

Tobias looks equally thrown. “Really?”

The monferno shrugs. “Sure. Not many fire types ‘round here for me to pass the craft on to. Just don’t go stealing my customers.”

Tobias laughs at that. “Don’t think I could even if I wanted to.”

“It’s all practice.”

Tobias hums, staring down at the glass piece. “I’ll…think about it.”

Tobias ignores the surprise that Nia knows is written all over her face. He idly looks at the glass flame’s price tag himself before putting the piece back on the table. He glances at Nia. “You ready to go?”

Nia’s eyes linger on the statue, but she shakes her head and smiles. “Yeah. Let’s go before I make an impulsive purchase.”

The two of them say goodbye to the merchant and his daughter, trailing farther down the street.

As soon as they’re sucked back into the crowd, away from prying ears, Nia looks at Tobias. “I bet you’d be good at it, you know. If you tried it.”

Tobias snorts. “Glassblowing?”

“Yeah! You’re already good at guitar. Like that girl said, you have the build for it.”

Tobias’ mouth twists. “…Let’s save the world before we start looking for new hobbies.”

Nia wilts. He does have a point.

Tobias frowns, looking her over. “You okay? We can take a break.”

Oh. He must think she’s getting tired. He isn’t wrong, per se—the constant ache in Nia’s ribs and the tense way she has to hold herself IS exhausting—but that wasn’t what she’d been thinking about.

But if he doesn’t mind…

“Could we rest? Just for a minute.”

Tobias nods, looking around before leading them to a little island of shade in the sea of sun. It’s cast by a large bush of flowers, taller than they are, and the little wall containing the plant is the perfect size for them to sit on. Nia eases herself down with a relieved sigh.

Tobias stares at her, brow furrowed. “You’re supposed to tell me when you need a break.”

Nia gives him a smile. “I don’t need a break. It’s just nice.”

Tobias rolls his eyes. “Well then tell me when it would be nice to have a break.”

Nia bites back a laugh. “Will do.”

Tobias nods, then leans against the wall as well, the two of them falling silent to people watch. Tobias fiddles absentmindedly with the satchel looped around his shoulder, sharp claws kneading the fabric like a cat. Adorable.

Minutes later, Tobias suddenly straightens up. “Hey, do you mind waiting here for a minute? I’m gonna, uh…go back and get that monferno’s name. Just in case.”

Nia blinks. “Oh! No, go ahead.”

Tobias nods, mumbling that he’ll be right back before slipping away into the crowd. Nia watches him go, relieved that he’s still thinking about the future and what might make him happy down the line. She’s been worried about that more than ever after his breakdown the other night.

Satisfied, Nia tilts her head back to close her eyes and enjoy the weather.

It doesn’t feel like long at all before Tobias returns, readjusting the satchel on his shoulder.

“Hey!” She greets. “Did you get his name?”

Tobias freezes. “Yeah. He’s, uh. Rico.”

Nia gives him a funny look. “You don’t sound super confident about that.”

Tobias doesn’t answer, instead looking her over. “You ready to walk again? We can wait here a while longer if not.”

Nia shakes her head, slowly getting to her feet. “No, I’m good. You sure you don’t want me to take the bag for a while?”

Tobias grabs the bag almost protectively, glaring at her. “You’re not carrying the bag when you have a cracked rib.”

Nia lifts her hands, palms out, in a peace offering. “Okay, okay! Don’t worry, I’m not gonna steal it from you.”

“Good.”

Nia shakes her head, smiling, and follows Tobias back into the thick of the market.

They spend the rest of the morning that way, drifting through town and browsing the shops. They even stop for lunch at a delightful little cafe with a clear view of the ocean.

By early afternoon, Nia is exhausted and more than ready to get off her feet. Tobias checks the sun’s positioning in the sky before leading them first across the bridge to shore, then along the hot sand of Kaleido Bay’s beach.

Finally, they reach the path they took when arriving here, where the sand meets firmer soil. A merchant cart awaits there, with a giant Clydesdale-like Pokemon the color of clay at its front and a kecleon checking the cart’s contents. Tobias pays the little chameleon for a ride back north, then leads the two of them to the back of the cart.

Tobias climbs in first, then helps Nia up into the cart. Nia sits as soon as she’s in, collapsing back against some bags of…grain? Rice? Whatever it is, the bumpy texture is welcome if it means she can lean back and relax her sore ribs.

Two other Pokemon, lone travelers by the look of them, also climb into the cart shortly after, giving Nia and Tobias a cordial nod before finding their own places to sit.

Tobias settles down next to Nia, eyeing the strangers for a moment before deeming them innocent enough for him to relax, too.

Nia doubts he’ll be able to sleep, though. After a moment of deliberation, and figuring that her worrywart of a partner would just tell her to take the chance to rest anyways, she tilts her head back against the bags to close her eyes.

Nia falls into a light doze, somewhere between asleep and awake. The bumpy movement of the cart as it starts up and travels along is strangely soothing, and must nudge her closer to Tobias, as warmth spreads through her side and the faint scent of her partner wreathes around her. He doesn’t protest, though, and the soundtrack of their journey—the faint rustle of the winds through dry grass, the rhythmic hoofsteps of the horse Pokemon pulling the cart, and the quiet conversation of the other travelers in the cart—becomes a wash of white noise.

Nia barely registers that any time has passed before she’s being nudged awake. She lifts her head, blinking against a haze of sleep. “Hm?”

“Time to get off,” Tobias says, looking amused.

Nia makes a quiet noise of protest, but doesn’t put up her usual fight since she knows the rest of the caravan is waiting on them.

Nia pushes herself to her feet, wincing when the motion pulls at her ribs. Yawning, she clumsily follows Tobias off the cart, accepting his help without a thought.

The trail back through the tall grass to the mesa in the distance seems both impossibly long and strangely short. Nia shakes off her clumsy, half-awake steps as she goes, needing to be alert for the climb up to the cliffside village.

It’s sunset when they finally arrive back at the gates to the human settlement.

Slate isn’t the one guarding the entrance this time. Instead, a bipedal yellow lizard Pokemon with a sun-like collar and black scales covering his head and neck greets them with easy familiarity. Nia remembers seeing him around the settlement a few times before she and Tobias left for Kaleido, so the lizard must recognize them in turn.

Even with her nap on the way here and the walk up the mesa, Nia is still trying to shake off the last dregs of sleep. So it takes a moment to register when a familiar voice yells at them from above.

“You’re back!”

Nia startles and looks up. Junie dives at her from the nearest rooftop like a tiny, feathery comet.

“Wait, don’t—!” Tobias shouts.

Even though some part of her knows it’s a bad idea, Nia can’t just not catch Junie. So she opens her arms, and Junie barrels into her, making Nia stumble back with a yelp. Tobias’ hands steady her.

“She’s hurt, you idiot!”

Junie immediately flails out of Nia’s arms to flutter in the air in front of them. “What?!”

“I’m fine,” Nia says, trying to smile instead of grimace as she straightens up. “My ribs are just a bit sore.”

Junie’s face falls. “I’m sorry, Nia! I should’ve checked first but I was just excited and—wait.”

Oh boy. Here it comes.

Junie looks between the two of them with angry suspicion, fluttering just a bit higher to be at eye-level. “You got hurt. I told you not to get hurt!”

Tobias sighs, arm still looped loosely around Nia’s back. “Our visit to the prison didn’t go as planned.”

“Ya think?! I swear, I can’t leave you two alone for a second! I was getting worried since you weren’t back yet and I knew you got into trouble, but I told myself, ‘No! It’s only been a couple of days! How could they possibly find trouble that quickly?’ Like a fluffy little—"

“Junie!” Nia says. “Breathe.”

Junie’s beak clicks shut.

Nia wordlessly holds out her arm as a perch, like a hawk handler she remembers seeing at the zoo when she was young.

Junie hesitates, but after a moments she settles on Nia’s arm, nearly weightless. Nia thinks she sees her feathers trembling.

“I’m okay,” Nia soothes.

“You’d better be,” Junie grumbles. But the words are weak, no bite behind them at all. She turns her glare on Tobias next. “You hurt too?”

“No.”

Nia frowns at him.

“Ugh, fine. It’s just my side. But it’s already mostly healed.”

Tobias lifts his arm to show where fresh bandages sit plastered across his side after Dismas snagged him with a claw.

Junie doesn’t look pleased by how casual he’s being. “You two are walking disasters, you know that? C’mon, let’s get you some food before you keel over.”

Junie flaps back into the air, giving them another quick scan as if to assure herself they’re in one piece. Then she nods and leads the way to the cafeteria.

“Well,” Nia says, giving Tobias a teasing smile. “She didn’t chew us out too badly.”

Tobias snorts. “Bold of you to assume she’s finished.”

Then he seems to realize all at once that he still has an arm wrapped around Nia’s back. He yanks himself away with a flush, muttering something about hurrying up before Junie comes back.

Nia chuckles, following her partner as he chases after their friend.

————————————————————

When they’re done eating and catching Junie up on their trip to Kaleido Bay—which did indeed include a second round of scolding—Nia is more than ready to go back to the inn and flop into a nest. She crosses her arms on the little table they’re seated at, easing herself into a slouch to rest her head and relax.

“So,” Tobias says, lowering his voice and ducking closer to Junie. “What’d we miss here the last few days?”

Junie chirps a laugh. “Nothing warranting that sort of tone, Mr. Suspicious. I was a little distracted by Asher, but I didn’t see anything obvious. Rosalind left soon after you two, and Will seems to be really into his research. Fidel just keeps the place running smoothly, as far as I can tell.”

Tobias slumps, clearly disappointed that his suspicions about Will still have no backing. Nia tries not to feel smug about that and doesn’t really succeed.

Junie opens her mouth to say something else, but her eyes flick past Nia and Tobias, towards the door of the establishment. “Well, speak of the devil. Or his dog, at least.”

Nia looks over her shoulder, immediately spotting the tall figure of Fidel. The zoroark is standing in the open doorway of the building and clearly looking around for someone.

His ears perk when he catches sight of the three of them. He weaves between other tables and patrons to reach their side.

“Good to see you two made it back safely,” Fidel says with a warm smile.

“Mostly safe,” Junie corrects with a dry look.

“Good to see you too, Fidel,” Nia says, pushing past another scolding with a smile. “You looking for someone?”

“You three, actually,” Fidel chuckles. “I heard that you and Tobias had returned, so I thought I’d let you know personally that Will has some information to help with your search for Xerneas. However, since it’s getting late, you’re more than welcome to wait until morning and get some rest first.”

Nia blinks, exchanging a surprised look with Tobias. She honestly hadn’t expected Will’s team to find anything in…what? Two days? Three? And she is awfully tired, but…

Well, the thought that they could get some answers or at least a little direction before bed is a nice one.

Both Tobias and Junie look to Nia to make the decision, seeing as she’s the most injured and in need of rest.

“Let’s go ahead and meet tonight,” Nia says, slipping out of her seat and stretching carefully. “I’m just going to be thinking about it all night anyways if I go to bed now.”

“I’m sure Will will be pleased to see you,” Fidel says with a smile. “He can be impatient when he wants to get something done.”

And with that, Fidel steps back and waits for the three of them to gather their crumbs and trays into a tidy tower on the table before leading them outside.

Junie, apparently deeming Nia too injured to act as her usual perch, instead settles on the satchel at Tobias’ hip. He glares down at her, but doesn’t try to push her off, so she wiggles into her spot with a smug fluff of her feathers.

Nia bites back a smile and soaks in the easy atmosphere of the settlement as the Pokemon—the humans—around them go about their evening.

Fidel leads their group back through the same building as before, down the electric-lit tunnel and to the quarters hidden within the cliffside. It’s cooler here, a slight dampness to the air and to the stone underfoot.

Will is alone this time, sitting at the table with a few sheets of paper in one hand and a cup of something hot and steaming—tea, Nia thinks, by the scent—in the other.

He looks up when they enter, red eyes brightening. “Ah, welcome back! I see Fidel found you all. How was your trip to Kaleido?”

Nia grimaces, making a so-so gesture with her hand before glancing at Tobias.

Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t look eager to share. He crosses his arms. “Fine.”

There’s an awkward beat of silence after that.

When it’s clear Tobias won’t be elaborating, Will claps his hands to move them along. “Well, I for one am happy to see you back safe and sound. I’m sure you’re tired, so I’ll cut to the chase. Fidel told you that we’ve made some progress on our research?”

Will gestures for them to sit, so they all gather once more around the stone table. Nia has to ease herself onto the stool, and she waves off Fidel’s concerned look.

“So whatcha find out?” Junie asks with a tilt of her head.

Will gathers up the papers in his hands, splaying them out in front of him. Nia leans forward to read them herself, but the scribbled notes—written in more than one handwriting—are tough to parse, especially upside-down.

“While we don’t have anything like exact coordinates, we do have a better idea of where Xerneas may have decided to rest.” Will points at a particular block of text, written in a hurried scrawl. “We confirmed first that her proximity is indeed close to Yveltal, which we expected considering that the two of them are so intertwined in legend.”

“They are likely sleeping within sight of each other,” Fidel adds. “Almost certainly on the same continent.”

“Great,” Tobias says, voice heavy with sarcasm. “But we don’t have time to search entire continents.“

Will smiles, a gleam in his eye. “True, but I’m not finished quite yet.”

He flips through his papers again until he finds what he’s looking for.

“Here! Xerneas and Yveltal always choose different locations for each sleep cycle, but the environments where they rest always tie into their natural roles.”

“Meaning..?” Nia prompts.

“Meaning that while Yveltal would likely settle somewhere barren of life—a harsh environment with few plants or Pokemon—Xerneas would likely settle down in a very different kind of environment: somewhere absolutely teeming with life energy.”

“Xerneas disperses life energy into the world when she wakes,” Fidel elaborates. “In order to prepare for that moment, she needs to feed on the ambient life energy around her as she sleeps. Yveltal, however, consumes life energy when he wakes, so he needs a barren environment to empty those stores of energy into when he falls into sleep. The two of them are push and pull, like the tides. You need both to keep this world in balance.”

“Even more astonishing,” Will adds. “Both of them can tap directly into this life energy as if it were one connected system. A great tapestry made up of every living thing, from plants and Pokemon to the fabric of this dimension itself—which is likely why Giratina is hoping Xerneas can prevent or at least heal the break in the dimensional border. With their power, Xerneas and Yveltal can restore energy where it is lacking, and remove energy where there is an excess.”

Nia nods slowly, trying to take all of that in.

“So they can both just…feel all of the life energy, everywhere?” Junie asks, uncertain. “Like, all of it in the world? Even us?”

Fidel hums. “It’s said that all life energy in the world is intertwined, in a way, so yes. I have no idea how, or how the legends access it, though.” He gives Nia a brief smile. “You’d have to ask one of them yourself, or one of the Pokemon more attuned to life energy, such as the lucario and riolu.”

Nia blinks, leaning back as all eyes turn to her. “Don’t look at me! I can see the aura of other Pokemon, but I can’t do anything like that!”

“Have you ever tried?” Will asks, looking at Nia thoughtfully.

“W-What do you mean?”

“Tried tapping into the life energy outside of other beings,” Will clarifies. “Plants. The dimensional border. It would be fascinating to learn how deep your aura powers go.”

Nia won’t deny that the idea does pique her curiosity, but it sounds much too powerful an ability for her to have in reach.

…Then again, Nia hasn’t ever tried looking for life energy outside of other people, and she certainly hasn’t tried anything like Xerneas and Yveltal seem to be able to do. Affecting that greater tapestry of aura threaded throughout the world. Adding to it, or taking it away. Interacting with it directly.

It all sounds kind of overwhelming. Maybe that’s something she can look into later, when she’s back at the guild with Avery and Val.

“Okay, put the aura experiments on hold for a minute,” Tobias sighs. “Right now, we have to focus on the mission. We know Xerneas will settle somewhere lush, and Yveltal will hibernate somewhere barren. That doesn’t narrow it down much.”

He has a point, unfortunately. If that’s all they have to go on, the duo could be anywhere. Xerneas could be resting in a forest, or under a field, or within a coral reef. She might even be sleeping below a city. Yveltal, likewise, could be sleeping in the desert, or the arctic, or even on the ocean floor. There are endless locations that would fit the bill for both.

Will’s excitement dampens. “You’re correct, unfortunately. We do have one other clue at the moment, but I’m not sure it’s of any help.”

“What is it?”

Will flips through his papers again, frowning. “Yveltal apparently cocoons himself in a very peculiar kind of crystal when he hibernates. Sometimes it can crop up in excess in the environment around him, giving a hint of his presence. However, if those crystals have yet to be discovered anywhere, then…”

Then they’re out of luck.

Still, as silence falls over all of them, Nia frowns. Something about that phrasing—strange crystals—tickles at her brain. Where has she heard something about that before? Recently, even?

It takes a moment, but then it hits her.

“Carnelian!” She gasps, hands smacking the tabletop. She looks at Tobias. “Didn’t Carnelian say he was called to investigate some weird crystals under the Silenfroar mountains?”

Tobias’ brow furrows, and Nia can tell it takes him a moment to place the name of the sableye they’d saved, when they were stranded in that dungeon with the crew of the Aqua Jet.

Then his face falls slack with surprise. “He did.“

“The Silenfroar range could certainly be considered barren of life,” Will murmurs, glancing at Fidel for confirmation. “It’s a very harsh, snowy land, yes?”

“Our guildmaster trained in a village on top of those mountains,” Tobias protests. “Pokemon live there.”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean Yveltal couldn’t still be nearby,” Fidel says. “He destroys life energy, but that doesn’t mean someone would die from living near his resting place. Just that anything more fragile, such as plants, likely couldn’t grow in the area. Which wouldn’t stand out as strange in such a desolate environment.”

“So you think there’s a good chance Yveltal could be there?” Nia asks.

Fidel nods. “Likely inside one of the mountains, if he’s stayed hidden for so long.”

“So if we assume Yveltal is in the mountains somewhere, we should be able to limit our search for Xerneas to the areas around Silenfroar, right?” Tobias asks.

Will shakes his head. “No, we shouldn’t just assume we can use the mountains as a starting point. We can’t afford to be wrong and waste time searching the areas nearby when we know we have to be efficient about all of this. We’re on a time limit.”

“But how can we know for sure that Yveltal is actually there?” Junie asks.

“Simple,” Will says with a smile. “We check for ourselves. If we can confirm Yveltal’s presence in the mountains, then we can use Silenfroar as the anchor point in our search for Xerneas with full confidence.”

That does make sense. The world is on a time limit, so they can’t afford to be looking in the wrong area only to never find the legendary because Xerneas is somewhere else entirely.

“So does that mean we need to go to the Silenfroar mountains?” Nia asks, looking to Tobias.

“I would prefer to look into this myself,” Tobias admits. “But I don’t know if we’d be the best choice for that. We aren’t the fastest Seekers in the guild, so August might decide to send someone else.”

“Like a flying type?” Junie asks with a tilt of her head.

“Normally that would be the fastest option,” Tobias agrees. “But I know the Lexym mail ‘mon can’t deliver anywhere in the mountain range because the air is too frigid for flight. Prone to blizzards and avalanches, too. So August would probably have to send a land ‘mon.”

“There are a lot of grass and bug types at the guild, though,” Nia says. “We would at least have an advantage in the snow, right?”

Tobias’ muzzle wrinkles as if he disagrees with that sentiment, but he nods all the same.

“Stop by your guild first and see if you can convince your guildmaster,” Will says, flipping through his papers. “I would prefer to work with ‘mon I know I can trust on this. On that matter—Fidel?”

The zoroark straightens to attention.

“Could you accompany Team Scarlet to Silenfroar to look into this? I’m sure they could use a helping hand, and there’s no one I trust more.”

Nia expects Fidel to agree instantly after how loyal he’s proven to be, but instead he falters, looking torn. He glances at the tunnel leading back outside. “I wouldn’t mind, but…”

“You know we’ll take good care of Asher in your absence,” Will says, giving Fidel a soothing smile. “Please, Fidel. I need someone to give me the news right away once Nia and Tobias return to their guild, and there’s no one I trust more with the job.”

Fidel still looks reluctant, but he forces a smile and a nod. “Of course. I’ll talk to Asher.”

“Good.” Will nods and looks back to Nia and Tobias. “Fidel will accompany you two for the time being.”

“We didn’t ask for an escort,” Tobias growls, crossing his arms and glaring at Will.

“Tobias,” Nia sighs. “C’mon, you just said it’s going to be a rough trip. We need all the help we can get.”

Tobias clearly isn’t convinced, but he relents under Nia’s pleading expression. “Fine.”

“Does that mean I can come too?” Junie pipes up.

Everyone turns to her, surprised.

She chirps a laugh. “C’mon, you can’t expect me to sit out on saving the world! Bo will understand.”

Nia exchanges an uncertain look with Tobias. “It…might be dangerous, Junie.”

Junie scoffs. “Duh! That’s why I’ve gotta come along! Look at what happens to you two when I’m not there to keep you out of trouble.”

She gestures at Nia’s ribs and Tobias’ bandaged side.

Oh. She’s worried about them. Of course she is, after hearing about their fight with Dismas.

Nia softens, glancing at Tobias. “What do you think?”

Tobias shrugs. “Whatever. Just don’t complain when it’s freezing cold in the mountains.”

“That’s what I’ve got you for!” Junie chirps. “You’ll be my walking heating pad.”

Tobias rolls his eyes, but doesn’t push any further.

“Good. Now that that’s settled,” Will says, hands clasped as he looks between them. “Be careful if you do find Yveltal. Do not under any circumstance wake him, as he could go on a rampage if he’s roused early and Xerneas isn’t awake to calm him. Just confirm his presence or the lack thereof, then report back as soon as possible.”

Everyone around the table, even Tobias, gives a solemn nod.

“I suppose we should leave first thing in the morning, then?” Fidel asks.

Will gives him a sympathetic smile. “Time is of the essence, old friend, so yes. I’ll send one of our night fliers to the nearest travel outpost right away to hire flight ‘mon for the trip. It’ll be much quicker if you can leave directly from the settlement in the morning.”

Fidel nods. “Understood.” He turns to the Nia, Tobias, and Junie. “Rest up tonight at the inn, and be ready to go by dawn. Make sure to eat breakfast before we depart.”

“Yes, Dad,” Junie jokes under her breath. Nia bites back a smile.

“Then you’re all dismissed,” Will says. “Good luck and stay safe.”

Fidel murmurs his thanks and hurries out of the room, likely to find Asher. Nia and Junie give their own thanks before getting up to leave, too.

Tobias groans as he stands. “Guess we need to see if there are any winter cloaks in our size at the guild. We can’t go somewhere so harsh without protection.”

“Oh! No need for that,” Will says, catching them before they get too far. He gives their surprised looks a smile. “Our seamstress here in town already has some snow gear prepared for the coming winter. She’s likely still in the shop if you want to stop by yet tonight. Feel free to grab whatever you think you’ll need, free of charge.”

Nia blinks. “Oh! Are you sure? That’s awfully generous.”

Will waves them off. “Of course, of course! You three are working to save the world—I think we can spare a few coats and scarves for that. Besides, Florence knows she’ll always be properly compensated for her work.”

Nia glances at Tobias and Junie. Tobias doesn’t look thrilled about being indebted to Will in any way, but he doesn’t argue. Junie, on the other hand, chirps a happy, “Thanks!”

The three of them head outside, and Nia takes a breath of crisp evening air, feeling a pang of longing when she catches the smoky scent of the settlement’s fire pits and hears the distant sound of the band they’d listened to the other night. She wishes they could’ve stayed here just a bit longer, but unfortunately the end of the world waits for no one.

Tobias starts walking. “C’mon. Let’s get this over with before the shop closes for the night.”

Oh, right. Clothes! Nia perks up, and she can see her own excitement reflected in Junie’s eyes.

“Shopping trip!” Junie crows, pulling ahead of Tobias and drawing looks from a few passing ‘mon.

“Shopping trip!” Nia echoes, much quieter but no less eager.

“Shopping trip,” Tobias monotones, with all the excitement of someone about to be tortured.

Nia giggles as Junie cackles, the three of them quickly tracking down the tailor shop they’d seen in the days before.

Warm light spills from the windows, the lack of flicker telling Nia that this building must be one of the few with electric lighting, like the tunnels. When they head inside, a bell jingles overhead to announce their arrival.

Nia’s eyes jump immediately to the colorful swathes of clothing crowding the large room. Some clothes are hung on horizontal wooden poles like makeshift store racks, little islands of fabric with just enough space between them to act as cramped walkways. Other clothes line shelves and closet-like alcoves set into the walls.

Everything seems to be roughly organized by size, a rack of clothes along the left wall boasting cloaks and dresses and robes long enough to be curtains, though they’d probably fit Maggie or August well. Conversely, racks on the right side of the room look more like baby clothes or pet outfits, some even tiny enough for Junie’s small frame.

Accessories, jewelry, and even shoes are also shelved here and there between clothes and near the register.

While it’s immediately clear that the fabric options aren’t as diverse as Nia is used to, with nothing plastic or synthetic in sight, there is an impressive variety of styles and colors. It almost feels like Nia’s back in the human world again, shopping with her mom or Toni.

Nia swallows back a sudden surge of longing, and tries to focus instead on the good feelings the shop’s familiarity brings.

“Hello.”

A Pokemon, presumably the Florence that Will had mentioned, is looking at them from the front desk. She’s a tall black Pokemon with white ribbonlike adornments atop her head and chest. She has a pouty purple face and pale blue eyes framed by hair-like disks on either side of her head. She reminds Nia of a particular style of fashion from the human world, one she thinks was popular in Japan.

Regardless, the Pokemon has a long piece of fabric laid across the counter she’s sitting at, one end of it held carefully in her hand. A threaded needle floats in the air just above the piece of cloth, surrounded by the purple glow of psychic energy.

“We’re closing soon,” Florence says, going back to her work. Her needle moves with confident, elegant movements, dipping in and out of the fabric. “But you can take a look around if you’re quick.”

“We’re here on Will’s orders,” Tobias says, eyeing the contents of the shop like they’ll bite him. “We need snow gear fit for the mountains.”

The needle stops sewing for a moment as Florence glances up at them again. But then she shrugs and goes back to her work. “I’ve got a few pieces that would fit you three in the back section. Check there.”

Tobias nods, apparently not bothered by Florence’s less-than-social behavior, and leads the way through the shop. Junie hops from rack to rack above their heads, starry-eyed as she looks around like a kid in a candy store.

Nia can relate to the feeling. While the impressive craftsmanship and the sheer number of pieces in the shop would be thrilling enough on their own, some part of Nia is also excited by the idea of wearing clothing again, weirdly enough. She’s long since gotten past the embarrassment of being “naked,” as long as she doesn’t think about it too hard, but there’s something distinctly human about clothing that she’s eager to reclaim.

Tobias finally stops in front of a rack of clothing made for Pokemon around their size. He quickly pushes through summery shawls, skirts and robes to reach the smaller selection of winter clothing at the end. He flips through the thick fabrics for a moment, skimming past clothing clearly made for quadrupeds, and stops at a deep navy cloak that hangs heavily on its makeshift hanger. After looking it over for a moment, he pulls it free, draws it around his shoulders to check the fit, and flips the hood over his head. It doesn’t drag on the floor, and it seems to sit comfortably around his shoulders and tail.

It looks nice on him, too, the dark tone complimenting his bright orange skin and cool blue eyes.

Tobias nods and pulls it off, draping it over his arm. “Done.”

Nia blinks. “Just like that?” She glances at the nearby floor-length mirror, slightly less smooth than human mirrors but effective enough. It must’ve cost a fortune, rare as mirrorstone seems to be in this world. “You don’t want to see how it looks or anything before deciding?”

Tobias raises a brow. “Why would that matter? It’s heavy enough and it fits. Does it look stupid or something?”

“N-No! It looks nice on you,” Nia assures. “It goes well with your eyes, actually.”

Tobias blinks, clearly surprised. Slowly, a flush spreads across his cheeks and nose.

Junie snrrks a laugh from atop a nearby rack of clothes. “Well, if Nia thinks it looks good, that’s all that matters, right?”

Nia frowns up at her. “Don’t you think it looks nice?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Junie assures, waving her off with a wing. “Looks great. Now if you need me, I’ll be looking at the little chihuahua-sized stuff over here.”

Junie hops a few racks over, where notably tiny clothes are hung, and starts picking through them to find something for herself.

Tobias is strangely quiet after Junie’s cryptic comment. He holds his cloak closer and shuffles over to look through some knit hats instead of commenting.

Nia’s shakes her head and takes Tobias’ place, looking through the small selection of snow clothes. There are a few cloaks like Tobias’, and she can imagine he chose that option because it’s what he’s used to. Less restrictive than most human-styled clothes.

Nia can’t help being drawn to the more coat-like options, though, with sleeves and a line of buttons down the front. She feels strangely nostalgic as she runs her fingers over soft, thick fabric stuffed with down.

How difficult was it for the seamstress to adapt to working with these kinds of materials? Is it hard to make thick, hide-like cloth without animal pelts or plastic? What about the downy feathers stuffing the coat, which would’ve had to have come from a Pokemon? Molting feathers, maybe.

Nia’s musings stop when she comes across a cream-colored coat, with adorable charcoal buttons off to the side and large pockets. It has a heavy hood, too, with little slots in the fabric for ears.

Nia pulls it off the rack and slips it on, pleased to find that other than the sleeves being a bit long, it fits perfectly, snug and warm.

“What do you think?” Nia asks, stepping back and giving a little spin.

Junie, struggling into something like a winter vest with a disgruntled Tobias’ help, stops to look. She lights up. “You look adorable! Don’t you think so, Toby?”

Tobias spares Nia a glance, face reddening again before he looks back at Junie, yanking her into the vest a little rougher than necessary. “It’s fine. Is it warm?”

Oh. Nia actually feels a little disappointed by his lackluster answer, for some reason. But at least Junie likes it.

Nia nods, moving to look at herself in the mirror, pleased by the coat’s color against her fur. “It’s really warm! I’m still gonna grab a hat and scarf, though. Tobias, do you need a set?”

Tobias grunts an affirmative. “Probably. Didn’t get a chance to grab anything else before this little idiot recruited me.”

“Hey! Excuse me for never dressing as a bird before. I don’t have hands, Toby—it’s hard!”

Nia chuckles as she picks out a matching hat and scarf set for both herself and Tobias. A deep scarlet combo for herself, and a cream set the same color as her coat for Tobias. That way, they’ll still look like a team even when they’re all bundled up.

From there, it takes twice as long as it did for Nia and Tobias to get Junie’s snow gear figured out, mostly because she has to consider her wings. Eventually, though, they manage to stuff her into a combined snow vest and cloak, and she seems pleased by the slits on the sides of the vest that allow her to slip her wings through to fly, while the cloak sitting on top of her wings should still keep her warm when she’s on the ground.

Junie, of course, picks a bright yellow hue from the few color options available, which makes her stand out like a sore thumb in the shop’s dim light.

Tobias looks so tired. “Is that really the color you’re going with?”

“It is a little bright,” Nia admits with a smile. “But I like it.”

“It’s your favorite color. Of course you like it,” Tobias huffs. “I think she looks like a combee.”

Nia blinks, surprised and delighted that Tobias remembered that little fact about her.

“Yep, this one’s good,” Junie confirms, looking smug that her choice has the bonus factor of annoying Tobias. “Now help me get back out of it. I’ve still gotta grab an itty-bitty hat and scarf before we leave.”

They manage to untangle Junie from her outfit and find a hat and scarf that she approves of, which are of course dyed an obnoxious pink color. At this point, Nia is pretty sure she’s picking such bright hues just to annoy Tobias.

Tobias, likely catching on to her game, steadfastly refuses to comment.

The seamstress doesn’t give them any trouble about payment, luckily, and even hands them a thin fabric sack to carry everything in. Nia makes sure to thank her before they leave, taking the bag and swinging it as they walk out of the shop and back to the inn.

They’d fallen into a comfortable quiet as they left the shop, but Junie speaks up now from where she’s nestled between the top of their satchel and Tobias’ side. Her voice is unusually quiet.

“Hey, Nia?”

Nia’s worried by the bird’s suddenly downcast expression. “What’s up?”

“Could you help me write a letter to Bo when we get back to the inn? Since Will’s having our ride come here, I won’t get to see the big guy before we go to your guild. I don’t want him to freak out when I don’t come back home after a few days.”

Oh, Nia hadn’t thought about that. The skarmory would be beside himself if Junie didn’t return when she said she would, and Nia has no idea how long Junie will be with them at the guild while they try to track down Xerneas.

Nia feels a stab of guilt for involving Junie in all this, despite her insisting on tagging along.

“Of course, Junie. Are you still sure you want to come with us? N-Not that I don’t want you there, but…”

Junie actually seems to consider backing out for a moment, but then she shakes her head, giving Nia a smile that falls flat.

“No, I wanna go. Someone has to keep an eye on you two, and saving the world should be fun. I just…don’t want him to worry, y’know?”

Nia gets it. She nods. “Yeah. Let’s write that as soon as we get back, okay? We can mail it off tomorrow before we leave.”

Junie looks relieved. “Thanks, Nia. You’re the best.”

Nia smiles, and Junie moves the conversation onto lighter topics, rambling about what tips she might learn from the flight ‘mon during their trip tomorrow.

They’ve got an early morning ahead of them, but Nia thinks they’re ready for it.

[olsenmyolsen]

Hey sorry you are ill at the moment, you mentioned requests being open. So if I may

May a request an wanda one shot where both wanda and yn are crushing in each other but both too scared to admit. Pietro is yns friend and takes her out to crazy golf or something to unwind (nothing alcohol related please) . But maybe pietro causes trouble and they end up arrested. Which stresses yn out as she's never been arrested and is scared and paranoid.

Anyway she uses her call to call wanda (much to pietro's displeasure) and she storms in to get them out (def calming down yn and giving her a hug when she sees her in jail and after she gets her out) . (Wanda def makes sure any record of yn getting arrested is gone with her powers) .

Wanda being utterly pissed at pietro, maybe they argue in sokovian and maybe pietro says something (def about them being idiots who won't admit they like each other or something along the lines) and he speeds away and it ends with Wanda being the one to confess and ask yn out.

I know this might seem a bit much or too detailed but let me know what you think :)

You Have The Right To Remain Silent

(I feel like I might start writing Pietro a lot more now)

master list . maroon master list . dark master list

Post AoU (Female Reader X Wanda Maximoff)

Summary: Pietro takes you out and tries to get you to admit your feelings about Wanda. Simple, right? So why are you making a phone call from a county jail?

Word Count: 3.2K

Content: Pietro is a great friend/menace, Emo Wanda, Cuteness

To say Wanda Maximoff was mad would be THE understatement.

Not only was she mad, she was pissed, enraged, furious, embarrassed, she was- you get it. So, as Wanda grabs her red jacket and storms down to the Avenger's garage, she can't help but replay the most recent call with You repeatedly.

In fairness, you did only have one phone call, at least, according to the cop who arrested Wanda's brother and You.

But let's back it up a bit to this morning when all Pietro wanted to do was take you out. Have a bit of one-on-one hang-out time. You were, after all, his most recent best friend since moving to America and joining the Avengers.

"Y/n, come on, get up!" You were slowly but abruptly being shaken away by your silver-haired friend. You lift your tired arms and push him away. "No, I love sleep!" You cry out why, doing your best to keep your eyes shut, but within a flash, Pietro has lifted your window blinds, making the early morning sunshine right onto you.

Damn, Stark, for putting you in the east corner of the compound.

So, with a loud groan into your pillow, you blink open your eyes to see Pietro smugly smiling. "Hi!" He waved.

What a menace.

You closed your eyes and sighed loudly. But sure enough, about twenty minutes later, you were dressed comfortably in your favorite pair of jeans and a light hoodie. It was about halfway through autumn, so the choice was perfect for the season and for whatever outdoor activity Pietro wanted to drag you to.

As of late, he was known to pull something like this. About two weeks ago, it was Basketball. A month prior, it was Pickleball.

Etc etc.

And you weren't sure if it was meant to happen or not, but the conversations always seemed to steer back to fellow teammate Pietro's sister and your crush, Wanda Maximoff.

And not that Pietro knew. At least you didn't think so...

(He knew.)

Regardless, you stumbled into the Avenger's kitchen and- "Hey, Y/n!" You jolt your head up from the floor of the compound at the accented angelic voice of Wanda. She's standing by the stove making pancakes. She's dressed in her usual wear of black skirts and cardigans. Necklaces hanging from her. Wanda's nails have some of the black polish removed, and her fingers are still wearing rings. Some of the last things from first home...

Sokovia.

Wanda keeps her eyes on you as you smile to see her. Hoping your cheeks don't light up. "Hi, Wanda!" You finally manage to say. She loves the sound of your voice, too. Even when it's all wavered. "You heading out?" Wanda says as you walk further into the kitchen. Heading to the fridge because you're on autopilot.

You look down at your outfit of choice. "Uh yeah, Pietro wanted to do something." Wanda makes anah noise and turns back to the pancakes. "You like blueberries, right?"

Wanda knew you did.

"Yeah." You reply after retrieving a glass of orange juice, making Wanda nod and not so subtly begin making a blueberry pancake. You turned your head away at the feeling of the warmth in your cheeks and sat at the kitchen island.

You felt the need to say something to Wanda. Ask her how she slept. Or what she was doing today. Or if she watched any of the old sitcoms you used to watch after school. But nothing was firing in your brain as you watched her glide through the kitchen.

You were starting to wonder if she didn't have her abilities, what would Wanda do? Chef? Ballet? Actress?

Wanda laughed while flipping over your two pancakes onto a plate. The noise made you raise your eyebrows and look at her with an acute smile. "What's funny?" You asked, but Wanda shook her head. "Just thought about something." She meekly replied with her green eyes, making her red cheeks and freckles pop slightly more. "Here." She then said as she laid down the food in front of you. Her powers setting down the syrup next to you.

You smiled and felt your heart flutter. "You get first dibs." Wanda smiled back. "Wow... Wanda, this looks-"

"Ah, there you are!!" Pietro rushed into the kitchen, making the two of you startle, and dropped your silverware onto the plate. "Jesus!" You yell out while Wanda takes the dish towel next to her and throws it at her brother. "Stop doing that!" She yells, making Pietro roll his eyes. "But you always say that!" Wanda lets out a large sigh and glares at him before turning back to the stove to keep working on breakfast for the rest of the team.

Effectively ending your moment with Wanda.

You pick back up your fork and knife and begin to dig into your specially made pancakes while Pietro tries to apologize to his sister to get her to make him chocolate pancakes, but she refuses and then says: "Only Y/n gets the special treatment!"

You froze, but Pietro smirked and looked at Wanda before communicating with her in Sokovian. A language you wish you could understand. Maybe in time... However, what Pietro said ended up with her yelling something back while trying her best to hide her smile.

Pietro called her out, and thus, a chocolate pancake was laid in front of him minutes later. But leaving food around him doesn't last long, so as much as you wanted to talk to Wanda some more and be terrible at flirting, you were being whisked away for a day with Pietro.

Not before waving bye to Wanda.

"Axe throwing?" You asked Pietro as the two of you walked up to the building after a 30-minute drive. "Not just axe throwing!" You tilted your head and followed the speedster inside.

Pietro took you to the newest evolution in the craze. Inside was your typical kind of place for this activity, but instead of standard sections, this place also had a glow-in-the-dark area and a gamified version where you had to play/win specific challenges for tickets for prizes.

You looked at your friend and saw his smile on his face.

Sometimes, you remind yourself that this is still the same person who lost everything months ago. And here he is with a wide smile.

Also, how in the world did he find out they opened at 10 am was beyond you. It just didn't make sense... But it's a tale, so after ordering some water and snacks, the first axe hit the board.

"No, fair, you're super strong!" Pietro was already whining.  You playfully rolled your eyes and grabbed your axe. "Yes, but that and my impenetrable skin don't make me super accurate. I'm not Hawkeye." You say with a little laugh. "Ah, right, the old man," Pietro replied, lifting the axe above his head. You smiled. "I'm so telling him you said that." You say as Pietro's axe lands slightly to the right of the bullseye.

Pietro retrieves it and laughs back before asking you about Natasha Romanoff, aka The Black Widow.

You tried your best to talk him out of asking her, but it didn't work. However, when he got knocked across the gym three weeks from now, you were there to say, "I told you so."

"Bullseye!" You cheered as your axe landed dead center. Pietro watched you walk to grab it with a smile before he did his best to shift the conversation to the real reason for today's adventure. "So Y/n..."

"So Pietro..." You said, copying his tone as he threw his axe. "You and my sister seemed to be getting along..." You tilted your head slightly. "Yeah... so?"

Pietro's axe landed a little below the target. Pietro looked at it before turning to you. "Pietro..." You said as the man stared at you. "Y/n, come on." Pietro grabbed his axe. "Just admit you like my sestra!"

"Pietro!" You raised your voice at his accurate assumption. "She likes you too!" He kept his voice level with yours. "You're too dumb or chicken to do anything about it!" You shook your head. "No. We're just friends!"

Yes, you had a crush on Wanda. Because, of course, you did, but when it came to admitting it to Pietro, you denied, denied, denied.

One, because you'd never hear the end of it.

Two, you didn't want to jeopardize anything between you and Wanda.

And three, could Wanda actually like you back??

"She made you special pancakes! You heard her. No one, but you gets them!" Pietro argues loudly, making one of the few other people in the establishment look over towards the two of you. "Pietro, shh." You say while gesturing with your head to the person, but Pietro isn't bothered by that. Too busy asking you about your crush. "That means something!"

"No, it means nothing." You argue back hoping this would be like any other time Pietro brought up this conversation and have it end reasonably quick. So, as you badly threw your axe at the wall, Pietro stood up.

"So if you think everything between you and my sestra means nothing then that must mean you don't like her."

You picked your axe from the floor. "What?" You replied, standing in the narrow space. "I didn't say that!" A customer looks over at you two. So does an employee. "So there is something?!" Pietro grins as he lets go of the axe right next to you, as you haven't gotten out of the way yet. "Pietro!" You scream even if the axe wouldn't have done anything to your body, thanks to your abilities.

An employee calls a manager over to them to watch you and Pietro.

"Just admit it: you like my sestra!" You huff, but before you can say anything else, he uses his super speed to grab the axe from the board and swing it back at you again. "Say it!" He calls out as it feels like you got a new haircut.

Luckily, nothing was trimmed.

"Yes, I like Wanda-" Pietro goes to interrupt you, but you cut him. "As a friend!" Pietro rolls his eyes and goes to use his powers again, but a man in a blue polo shirt stops him as Pietro raises his axe.

The two of you turn your eyes to the stranger—a manager.

"Hey! You are breaking some rules here and causing a disturbance. Why don't you two come with me!" Pietro looks at you and returns his eyes to the man with the name tag, 'Micheal.' "No, we're cool. It's okay."

You sigh, closing your eyes, knowing that's NOT what you're supposed to say. You move up.

"Hey. I'm sorry, my friend here is a little... much, but I-" You get cut off by the manager. "Doesn't matter what you're about to say. You two have been loud and reckless. Not to mention you're mutants." The man adds that last part in like you wouldn't heat him.

Pietro looks from you to the man. "Excuse me?"

"Pietro, let's just leave." You say, moving your eyes to Wanda's brother. But Pietro tightens his jaw. He brought you to this place to have fun and to finally have you admit that you are head over heels for Wanda. He also wants to spend time with his friend. He's tired of people telling him what to do or not do.

So, in a lapse of better judgment, Pietro uses his super speed and, thus leading to the two of you pinned to a cop car while Peitro wears Micheals's name tag as paramedics look over the man in the polo with a bloody nose. "I didn't push him that hard," Pietro comments, making you huff as a cop tightens the cuffs on the two of you.

"You both have the right to remain silent..." The mustache'd cop behind you starts going over your Miranda Rights as you close your eyes and let the world fall to a hum around you.

What the fuck were you going to tell Wanda...

The cell door at the sheriff's station closes behind you as you and Pietro walk inside. "I still think we could've gotten away. I'm super fast." You throw your arms up and let them fall against your side. "And then what Pietro? My car would still be at the place, and they'd track the registration to the compound. Could you imagine two cops knocking on the Avengers doors!?"

Pietro noticed your voice. You're frustrated and exhausted. Uneasy as your anxiety courses through you.

Pietro looks away.

The last time you were arrested was before you joined the Avengers... Those memories are seconds away from coming back.

After a few quiet moments, you take a seat on the cold bench next to your friend. Pietro hears the deep exhale come out of you. "I'm sorry." He calmly speaks up, making you look at him. "I shouldn't have engaged or acted out." You nod. "Why did you?" You ask. Pietro shrugs but looks at you. "I was more than okay leaving, but then he said... that word a-and it made me think back to Hydra. You know they weren't exactly known for being the nicest people..." He jokes with a slight smile but is still solum with his words. "Plus, I guess. I guess I really just wanted today to be the day." Pietro looks at you, and you know what he means.

"I do like her. A lot." You speak up. Pietro smiles. "Oh god, what are we going to tell her?" You say as you lean back against the grey wall.

"Tell her?" Pietro says, making you glance at him. "We can't do that." You widen your eyes. "Are you kidding me? That's exactly what we're going to do!" You say back.

"She'll kill me!" Pietro jokingly looks scared.

"Pietro, you're lucky I haven't killed you! Besides, we're calling Wanda. I'm not about to have Cap come down here and treat us like we're children. I am not about to have Natasha scold us and make our weekly gym sessions increase. I'm calling Wanda!"

Pietro knew this was the only option as everyone else was too busy or off-world. But he still argued and pleaded. But he relented when he saw you start to shake from your nerves.

Ten minutes later, you walked back into the cell, and an officer closed it behind you.

"I think she's mad." You said. Knowing his twin, Pietro knew that if you thought Wanda was mad. Gear up because she was past mad. Pietro sighed and stood up, needing to stretch his legs. "Did you tell her it was my fault like I asked?" You nodded. "But then Wanda asked me how come I was arrested as well. I froze. I told her I pushed the man back when he tried to push me but couldn't." Pietro laughed through his nose. "Your super strength and impenetrable skin will always amaze me."

"Yeah..." You sigh. "Too bad it won't make me Wanda like me again after this." Pietro watches you sit on the bench. "I'll talk to her," Pietro affirms you, but you don't know if you want him to talk to the witch or not. But before you can say anything, you hear muffled, loud yelling coming from outside the double doors down the hall. "How did she get here already?!" Pietro asks because it makes no sense. You shake your head and shrug before the doors down the hall open, and Wanda's black boots hit the white tile floor with force.

The officer with Wanda opens the cell door without a word to either of you. When you look at his eyes, you see how red they are.

Pietro looks to you and gulps.

"Sestra-" Wanda raises her hand to Pietro. "I don't want to hear it. Let's go." Wanda starts to walk away, and as much as you shouldn't, you do, in fact, look up and down her backside. Your crush on her and her demeanor towards you in this moment makes something click inside you. Fuck.

As the three of you exit into the station lobby, you realize that everyone in the building is under Wanda's control. You glance at a monitor and watch as a red-eyed officer deletes your and Pietro's files. You look back to Wanda, who pierces you with her green eyes. A smile wants to break out on her lips, but she remains stern as she gestures for you two to pick up your belongings at the front desk. You nod, and you and Pietro grab your things—one of them including your car keys for your impounded car.

"It's out front," Wanda speaks up before you send her a gracious smile. She sees it but doesn't return one as she leads the three of you outside. Her red car is parked next to your older vehicle.

"Pietro in the car," Wanda commands her brother, who does so without wanting to be under her power. As she stops in front of her driver's side door, Wanda looks to you. She opens it before closing it and walking over to you. Her green eyes looking at yours, getting softer by the second. She then surprises you with the most Wanda thing ever. She wraps her arms tightly around you and hugs you. "It's okay." She whispers to you as you feel yourself melt into the embrace. "Wanda, I'm sorry." You feel the need to say back, but Wanda shakes her head and pulls back. "Y/n, the only thing you need to be sorry for is your choice of friends." You can't help but laugh as you wipe the corner of your eye. The last thing you needed to do was cry.

Wanda moves her hands and fingers covered in rings up and down your arms to comfort you. "Pietros has already taken the blame again and again," Wanda says, confusing you until she points to her head. "Right." You nod. Wanda smiles. "A lot of yelling in Sokovian." Wanda drags her hands down and off of your arm. You already feel the loss of her touch, but look at her eyes as they find yours. "Do you think we could talk later? After we get back to the compound?" She asks, and you feel your throat grow tighter. "Not about this!" Wanda quickly corrects your thoughts as she points to the sheriff's office. "It's just Pietro called me an idiot, and it has something to do with you."

"With me?" You find yourself questioning even though you one hundred percent know what she's getting at it. Wanda nods as a shy blush appears on her face. Wanda looks back to the car before turning to look at you. She bites her lip. "I like you. A lot." Wanda confesses after a brief moment.

You can't help but smile wide.

You nod. "I like you a lot too, Wanda." Wanda feels her heart grow warm as she hears your words. "So yeah, we can talk later?" She says, making you chuckle. "I'll see you at the compound." You reply back.

Who would've thought that to get your crush, all you had to do was get arrested?

dividers by @/benkeibear

[onlyangel4]

imgonnagetyouback. fa14. smau.

fernando alonso x singer!reader

who knew a simple line in your new song could bring you to meeting the love of your love

warnings: cursing. age gap (reader is in her early 30s)

author's note: omg guys we have finished the series ! i will now be working through my requests. i specialize in song based smaus, but i will write whatever you have ideas for smau or purely written so do request any ideas that you do have. faceclaim suggestions/ requests for smaus are always welcomed. anyway, enjoy this

faceclaim: kelsea ballerini

taylor swift series masterlist.

y/ninsta

liked by taylorswift, fletcher, astonmartinf1 and 1,327,642

tagged: fletcher. taylorswift.

y/ninsta: i am so excited to announce that my new song imgonnaget you back is out now. i wrote this song with two of my favourite people cari and taylor. i am so excited to see what you guys think of it.

p.s please do not use this song as an excuse to get back with your ex, i don't want to be responsible for that

view all 8,521 comments

taylorswift: i had the most fun writing this with you

y/ninsta: we really did have the best time

fletcher: this is gonna be an instant hit bby

y/ninsta: only because it had a couple brilliant writers on it

user1: this is my avengers

user2: holy shit the aston martin line, i bet fernando is giggling and kicking his feet we know that he is a y/n fan

astonmartinf1: we are honoured to be mentioned in this hit

liked by y/ninsta

fernandoalo_oficial posted a story

written: safe to say this song is now on my pre race playlist

fletcher posted a story tagging y/ninsta

written: she is giggling and kicking her feet because of some news her manager just gave her

f1

liked by user3, user4, user5 and 1,211,19 others

tagged: y/ninsta

f1: she's an aston martin (fan). y/n has entered the paddock and no one is surprised by what paddock she is in.

view all 12,341 comments

user3: she looks so good omg

user4: i bet fernando is so excited

user5: she actually looks so happy to be there compared to influencers there

user6: my girl

astonmartinf1 posted a story tagging y/ninsta and fernandoalo_oficial

written: legends meeting legends

y/insta posted a story

written: made mister aston martin a few t swift style bracelets

fernandoalo_oficial posted a story

written: post race celebrations went hard

y/ninsta posted a story

written: forever grateful that we decided to tour australia in december it is so hot here i love it

fernandosightings posted a story

written: fernando spotted leaving an airport in sydney

y/ninsta

liked by taylorswift, fernandoalo_oficial, user7 and 1,100,986 others

y/ninsta: sydney you were fucking gorgeous. i am so glad we left you guys til the end of tour you really brought the heat and let me end this tour on a high. i love you all !

view all 41,837 comments

fernandoalo_oficial: you were brilliant, the best concert i have ever been to

y/ninsta: thank you fernando that is the best compliment anyone has ever given to me

user7: that concert meant the world and more to me, thank you for coming y/n sydney loves you

user8: her and fernando would make such a good couple

user9: isn't he too old for her

user8: i don't think so there are nine years between them

y/ninsta posted a story

written: i've been banned from steering apparently driving should be left to the professionals

y/insta posted a story

written: i love christmas

y/ninsta posted a story

written: happy new years

y/nsightings

liked by user10, user11, user12 and 538,922 others

y/nsightings: y/n and fernando alonso spotted in the vip area of taylor swift's madrid concert. i was always cautious about the dating rumours but now i am convinced, they are so cute together

view all 5,837 comments

user10: she looks so happy omg i could cry

user11: they are so cute omg

user12: i never imagined that these rumours would be true

fernandoalo_oficial

liked by astonmartinf1, carlossainz, y/ninsta and 1,572,899 others

tagged: y/ninsta

fernandoalo_oficial: spent winter break recharging with my girl

view all 86,274 comments

y/ninsta: love i was not aware that we were hard launching today

fernandoalo_oficial: what is a hard launch my love?

y/ninsta: you know what don't worry i can't be mad when you are that cute

user13: fernando randomly hard launching their relationship without y/n's permission is the most on brand thing ever

astonmartinf1: power couple fr

y/ninsta posted a story tagging fernandoalo_oficial

written: since my boyfriend decided to hard launch our relationship today, here is how he left me today to go to the first work day of the year

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

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[randomshyperson]

I Wanna Be Yours - Heart Shaped Series

Chapter Summary: Once again separated, Wanda calls and brings news that changes everything, whether for better or for worse, it's still too early to say.

Warnings: (+18), making out, shapeshifting smut, intimate and unprotected s*x, creampie, fingering (both), slightly power dynamics, fluff and mild angst, avengers fighting like a family, brief mention of violence and injuries, some humor. | Words: 7.087k

A/N-> Am I getting too addicted to writing Shapeshifter Reader? Maybe. What can I do, it's so fun. Also, this is kinda late 'cause I spend the whole weekend watching Orphan Black (it's amazing). I hope you all like this, it took me some time, good reading!

General Masterlist | Wattpad | AO3 | Series Masterlist

-&-

Limping and bleeding, you kept moving. The suspenders of your uniform were unbuttoned and hanging around your waist, and you grunted in pain as you leaned against the wall of the secure apartment, needing a moment to overcome your fatigue to open the door.

Cleaning the wound in silence was the worst part; your powers were messed up by the whole thing, and even though you tried to change, the blood kept coming out and you were forced to find a sewing kit and solve the problem.

Half an hour later, on the living room carpet still trying to stop shaking, your cell phone rang.

You thought it was Valentina, wanting to know if the whole thing had worked out. You almost cursed under your breath, this checking habit of hers always irritated you; the jobs always worked out, especially if the payment was made in advance. You were a professional, and the attitude carried an insinuation that you would fail, and if Valentina continued with it, perhaps it would be better for her to find someone else for the job. 

But in a way, you knew that all this lack of patience had other reasons: with every stray bullet, every insult, and more difficult fight, you wondered what was the point of it all. You remembered Wanda Maximoff smiling at you, kissing you, and started to wonder if taking all that risk was worth anything, especially when crime made it so difficult to have moments with that witch who wouldn't leave your thoughts.

And as if guessing, it was Wanda calling. You smiled immediately, feeling a little excited for the first time that morning.

It had been so long since you heard her voice. After everything that unfolded with the Avengers splitting up and being chased, and this latest intense mission which, despite being very well paid, made it practically impossible for you to visit her. At last, Wanda was calling.

"Little witch." You greeted as soon as you picked up, only to hear a heavy sigh on the other end that made you frown in confusion. "Wanda?"

She sniffled, and you ignored the pain in your body to sit up straight. "I have to tell you something."

"Is everything all right? Are you hurt? Are you with your friends?"

"Detka, please." She interrupts you. "Just listen, okay?"

"Wanda, you're scaring me."

"I'm all right." She assures you straight away. "I'm safe, I promise. But I have... to tell you something. And I need you not to freak out, because I'm scared and if you get scared too, I don't think I can manage."

You sigh uncertainly, but end up agreeing. "I'm listening."

It takes Wanda a whole moment where the only sound is her breathing on the line. Until finally; "I think I'm pregnant." Your immediate reaction is to frown in a mixture of confusion and surprise. You don't say anything because you don't know what to say, and your silence makes Wanda sniffle again. "You have to say something."

You open your mouth, only to let out a short, nervous laugh. "I know, I just... I don't know what."

Wanda sighs, looking like she's trying to control her emotions. "Okay, I didn't expect, well I don't know what I expected. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do, we, I can take care of this and then-"

"Wait, what?" you interrupt. "Wanda, take a deep breath, okay? Just give me a second to think." You struggle to get to your feet, and with the injury, let out an involuntary grunt of pain. 

Wanda grips the phone tightly. "Where are you? Are you hurt?"

You chuckle weakly. "It's nothing, I've taken care of it." 

"Detka..."

"No, that's kind of funny actually." You continue, stumbling around the apartment after your suitcase. "And I don't say this to worry you, love, but I've barely made it out of this mission. I'm losing my touch, I guess, or maybe I just don't want this anymore. And when I was shot, I just had this really sad thought that if I died on that island, no one would care. The shooter would probably be very glad, and my boss would be annoyed at losing money but would surely find someone else for the job. What I'm trying to say is that I had no reason to get up, but then I thought, if I die here, my little witch will see my picture in the news and I don't want to go without saying goodbye. Wanda deserves at least a goodbye. So I got up, shot a few more assholes, and managed to escape to this dingy apartment and sewed myself back together, all the while wondering if this is what I really want to do with my life. The answer is no, Wanda. I don't want to have hundreds of people targeting me and risk my safety for a handful of jewels or whatever other shit I have to steal from narcissistic billionaires scattered around the world. I just want to lie next to you, and watch you laugh at some joke on TV, or have meals next to you and kiss you, you know? And now you call me, to give me the best news in the world over the goddam phone. That's not how it should be." You zipper up a suitcase with a few changes of clothes safely inside. "My only purpose is to be with you, Wanda Maximoff. I don't want to have this conversation miles away from you, so just hold on. I’ll come to you.”

This time, you know she's crying with happiness. She laughs tearfully as she says, "I'll be waiting, detka. Don't be long."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

Not surprisingly, the hardest part was getting to Wanda. Being a fugitive in the majority of nations has its disadvantages. It took almost two whole weeks for you to finally arrive at the address Wanda texted you, and unfortunately, you were late.

Only a very angry black widow was there to welcome you.

"I'm going to kill that girl." Nat declared as soon as she laid eyes on you. You tried to wave but ended up jumping in fright when a man's hand touched your shoulder. 

Steve Rogers and his nomad beard chuckled at your reaction. "You shouldn't be here, kid."

Recovering from the shock, you grimaced and pushed his hand away with a pat. "Don't kid me, Mr. America. And this is a free country, I can be wherever I want."

Nat chuckled, a hologram coming out from her watch reflecting brightly in the dimly lit room. The Avengers needed better safe houses, not even in your first years of crime did you stay in such a crappy loft. 

"That's a great one coming from an Interpol fugitive." He sneers back, but you lift your chin proudly.

"And what's it like being in this position? Have you come down off the moral high ground or do you still think you're better than the rest of us, Rogers?" You challenge, and although you sigh, Steve surprises you. 

He chuckles, shaking his head. "She's just like Wanda." He says to Nat from across the room, who clicks her tongue. 

"Yep, same punk-ass attitude." Grumbles the widow, but despite the grimace, it sounds more like a compliment than a curse. "I can't believe Wanda thought it was acceptable for her to share the location with anyone."

You snort incredulously. "I'm not 'anyone', Romanoff! I'm her…girlfriend!"

Nat rolls her eyes, ignoring your protest and Steve steps out of the doorway to approach his friend. "So Nat, is the place clean?"

The widow forces a smile. "Apart from the shapeshifter intruder, yes. We've left no clues behind. And considering the agent's new agenda, we're going to have a peaceful few weeks for the time being. Wilson and Maximoff can stop moving for a while."

"Good news at last." Steve commented, but you cleared your throat.

"Any chance of me catching a ride to the place Wanda won't have to flee from?" You ask, and their expression doesn't give you any more confidence. "Okay, I'll wait for her to give me the address and I'll go by myself."

Nat chuckles incredulously, taking a step forward. "It's astonishing how irresponsible you two are." She says. "I know it must be hard for you to think of anyone but yourself, but you need to stop putting her at risk."

You snort. "The only astonishing thing here is your judgment, Romanoff. Acting like you were born a hero. Have you forgotten everything you did before the Avengers or Shield?" You retort. "You're no better than me."

But Nat snorts, nodding. "The difference is that I never had a choice. I was trained from birth for it, I didn't know any other life until Barton and Fury gave me a chance. You revel in chaos."

You don't lose posture, even as emotion begins to rise in your chest. "You know nothing about me."

"But we know about Wanda." Steve interrupts the conversation, as accusatory as the widow. "After everything that happened in Sokovia, she's our responsibility. Our family. It's not something anyone who isn't an Avenger can understand. And I know that she was vulnerable with the loss of her brother and that you took advantage of it."

You take a step forward, shocked by such a low accusation. "Take that back! I would never-"

"Oh, cut it out." Steve insists. "We all know about the kind of work you do, manipulation and lies are your specialties. Your signature is to deceive." He accuses, and for the first time, Nat flinches. Because the whole conversation could easily be handed back to her, and perhaps already has been by other people. "What's all this about? What do you want from Wanda?"

"Not everything is about work. Maybe I just fucking love her!"

Steve laughs incredulously. "Oh please-" But Nat interrupts the whole thing with an annoyed snort.

"That's enough, both of you."

The captain looks at her with some surprise. "Come on Natasha, you don't really believe she's serious." He is careful to lower his tone, like a private conversation between the two of them, an almost silent agreement about letting you go or not. Still, in that empty place, it's easy to hear what they're saying. "Weren't you the one who always says that love is for children?"

The joke is not well received. Natasha takes on a hard expression as she faces Steve. "Do you really want to discuss this, Rogers? When we're all risking our necks over your feelings for Barnes?"

Steve steps away dumbfounded. "It's not like that! We're freeing someone innocent! The right thing-"

"Would be to bring him to justice." Natasha interrupts without losing her tone. "The morally and legally right thing would be to bring the person responsible for 100 years of crimes to justice. There's no other answer, no other way around it. But he's family, and you're family. And that's why I'm here, and all the others who will stand by your side and go against the law and risk their necks, jobs, and safety. Things aren't as black and white as this right and wrong discourse and by now I'd hoped you'd be able to recognize that better, Steve."

He looks away, embarrassed and thoughtful. Nat sighs and takes the opportunity to approach you again.

"I can give you a ride. Just don't make me regret it, okay?"

For the moment, that's all Natasha offers in solidarity with you. It's the kindest thing an Avenger - excluding Wanda of course - has ever given you. It instantly makes Nat your favorite.

Steve doesn't accompany you two to the safe place. He says he needs time to think, and from the looks he exchanges with Nat, it's not hard to deduce that he's going after the Winter Soldier. You don't know where Sergeant Barnes is, but you have the impression that they do. It's not your place to question or monitor Steve Rogers' movements, so you just respond to the polite nod of farewell he gives you.

He takes the stolen airship, which is a shame because you love riding in those - Valentina's vehicles were never that sophisticated, but you've already managed to steal one of those from Shield and the ride was a lot of fun until you had to dispose of the aircraft in the Caribbean. 

Natasha gets a truck, which makes you assume that the location can't be that far away. It's an incorrect conclusion because she comments on buying train tickets.

You fall asleep in your seat. That must win you some points with Nat, who is surprised that you trust her enough to sleep because when you wake up from a very nice dream with Wanda, she starts small talk.

Accords, favorite crimes, and the morally superior attitude of some agents. Natasha giggles at one of your stories - about getting compromising items from government leaders - and you consider it a personal victory. She herself has stories about missions from her time as Black Widow which, if you don't consider the horror of her childhood, were kind of amusing. It's probably that you're the only person Nat can tell these things to without any kind of judgment. Equal to equal.

She's almost at the nearest station when, at the signal, she surprises you completely.

"I know about the baby."

You blink at her surprised eyes. "Did she tell you?"

But Nat denies it, without taking her gaze off the road now that the two of you are reaching a busier area. Even with the different appearance, the blonde hair being something to get used to, she has to be careful.

"They ran tests before admitting her to the raft. With all of us that they managed to capture at the airport, in fact." says the widow. "It was to categorize skills, check for injuries, but they ended up finding something else."

You sigh, also paying attention to the surroundings and any curious civilians who risk looking inside the vehicle. Everyone seems busy with their own problems, but you also check the streetlights for surveillance cameras.

"She must have been so scared." You whisper, and the guilt surprises Nat. You swallow dry before adding: "I should have been with her."

"What happened, happened. It wasn't really an outsider's fault."

You smile sadly, it's not exactly reassuring, Natasha doesn't seem to be very good at these things, but she's kind enough. She means that the Avengers' fight was something between them and that it wouldn't make sense for you to blame yourself for Wanda's imprisonment. Even so, you feel you could have prevented it if you'd convinced her to run away with you. But again, how different would the life you could offer her would be?

"When I heard about the Raft, she was already gone." You say. "I guess I should thank you for being so fast in getting her out."

Nat chuckles briefly, turning the steering wheel towards the streets beyond the parking lot. This car will probably be abandoned there.

"It wasn't me who got her out, so no." Retorts the widow. "You must have seen the fight on television, the way we were divided." She waited for you to nod in agreement before continuing. "The team that was left standing, Tony’s side I suppose, helped capture the others. Fighting with Steve. But when the tests were done,  General Ross got very nervous. He was afraid the story would leak, and the image of a young terrorist that the media had planted would turn against him, now that it was a pregnant woman being beaten and handcuffed in front of the cameras. His anxiety alerted the others, and well, Stark may be many things, but as soon as he knew the truth, he got her out of there. Vision confirmed the whole thing, he's got some scanning abilities or something. And I think they come up with some story and Vision was supposed to chase her after the vehicle she was in left the route, but Wanda was never found by Ross again. I know Vision and Tony help her. And then she was the first of us to catch up with Steve."

Natasha parks the car. She almost thinks you're busy absorbing the story when you pull something out of your pocket and hold it out to her.

"It was sent to me while I was in Greece. I guess this is my way of making us even." In your hand is the file of a job you rejected a few weeks ago. To track and recover a package of stolen vials, of a defector last seen in Morocco. Unknown contractor, but payment of half a million dollars in advance. 

"You should have taken it, the money was good." Nat commented as she grabbed the photo of the vials attached to a small one of her face with her hair still red, carrying market bags somewhere in Norway, the place where the last trace and possible suspect was seen.

You gave her a short smile, now that Nat had parked the car, she busied herself flipping through the old file. 

"I missed my chance." You mutter. "What about you, Romanoff? Did you miss yours?"

She mimics your smile, shaking her head. "No. This time, I finished off the bastards." She assures you, nodding. "I didn't get the chance to kill Dreykov myself, but someone who deserved it more did it for me."

You nod, respecting Natasha's choice not to delve deeper into that painful subject. You know just enough about the Red Room, and one of the few things is that General Dreykov was the leader and that Romanoff should have killed him years before. If she did it now, the mission must have been to put an end to the whole thing. 

"I kept monitoring Ross, after everything that happened. I heard you made a fool of him when you ran off alone from the team he set up for you."

She shrugged, a smile hiding the pride of her own abilities. From the car, you took only a backpack that she had prepared, and you weren't surprised to see Natasha take out a lighter and burn the files before throwing them in the nearest garbage can. 

Side by side and with your heads down, you walked to the station.

-&-

Wanda has a bit of a meltdown. It's the hormones, you're sure of it.

She jumps on your neck, expelling a sort of magical wave of excitement that makes you almost too cocky to recognize how happy she is to see you.

Natasha gets worried because the windows rattle and the last thing anyone needs is to draw more attention to themselves. She and Sam exchange a quick nod, and the widow mumbles something about the two of them heading out to restock supplies and you know it's a favor so you and Wanda have time to talk alone. The Falcon is confused by the whole thing, and you hear some distant questions along the lines of "Since when do we call the bad guys to the team" before Natasha closes the door.

Not that Sam Wilson's opinions are worth anything when Wanda pulls your face to hers and kisses you with all the longing she's been feeling.

It's passionate and intense and makes your heart soar. You break into a dopey smile like hers, nearly dizzy with love to the point of not being able to say anything. Wanda, as close as humanly possible, speaks first in a husky tone:

"You took your time."

The teasing makes you smile, and without stopping smiling, you start playing with the loops of her jeans. 

"Sorry, darling, you changed your address too quickly. You're getting good at this fugitive life, aren't you, Maximoff?" Your question almost goes unanswered when you decide to make a path of chaste kisses from her cheeks to jaw and to her neck. Wanda sighs affectedly, trying to keep her eyes open.

One of her hands goes to your hair, and she giggles when she feels it grow a few centimeters between her fingers. You nibble her ear before looking her in the eye and are greeted by dilated, curious pupils. 

"Why have you changed?" she asks quietly, her fingers still assessing the new length of your hair.

You scrunch up your nose, a gesture that has become habitual with the witch snuggled up to you. "I'm just following your friend's safety tips." You explain casually. "All I need is a cap and sunglasses and my Avenger disguise is complete."

Wanda snorts good-naturedly, knowing full well that you're making fun of the bad disguise she was wearing when you two first met. To be fair, Natasha has always believed that the simplest is the most effective, and so far, most Avengers have managed to go unnoticed with just glasses and a cap, no matter how ridiculous it may seem.

"Maybe I should follow her example." Wanda then comments, and although she seems to be focused on what she's saying, you're surprised to realize that her hands have reached down to remove your belt. "What if I get some blue highlights?"

Your laugh is a little hoarse and distracted because Wanda has thrown the belt into some corner of the apartment and is pulling you both backward, probably to where her bedroom should be. 

"I guess you either go big or go home."

She hums thoughtfully, perhaps making some mental note of the matter. You're more focused on the way she slips her hands inside your blouse and scratches your stomach, biting her lip as she feels your muscles twitch. 

Wanda closes the bedroom door with her foot, and you don't put up any resistance to feeling her lips on yours, hungry and impatient this time.

The kisses are too hot for you to think coherently, but you hear the last remnants of reason to hold a half-naked Wanda by the waist.

She, as breathless as you, looks at you with some concern and confusion at the interruption.

"Is something wrong?" Wanda asks hoarsely.

You swallow dry, your hands on her waist. "It's okay, it's just..." And suddenly, you seem very shy. You can feel your cheeks flushing, and maybe you should force your body not to have this kind of reaction, but you never do that with Wanda. You don't have to hide things from her. She looks at you expectantly, her hands caressing your shoulders as a way of reassuring you. "Hm, I was wondering, are we supposed to be doing this when you're...." And you looked down a little, at her belly, until Wanda understood.

She broke into a shy giggle, then looked up at you. "Oh, darling, you're so adorable." She declares, stealing a kiss before tenderly explaining; "It's still early, very early. I imagine it's only going to start being a problem towards the end, and well, I'm going to be a nervous, angry, horny mess by then and I think you'd better not dare deny me that kind of relief!"

You nod foolishly, panting that you will certainly do whatever she wants. Wanda's face takes on a new color, and she bites back a smile, her eyes darkening.

"Whatever I want? I like the sound of that." She retorts, leaning in to break the distance again. The next kiss is almost a shut-up, charged with naughty intentions. She sucks on your tongue and you practically whimper. It's such a submissive sound that it surprises you both for a moment. "Oh, moya lyubov (my love), parenthood has turned you into a whiny mess..."

You groan in a mixture of embarrassment and arousal, turning your face away. "And it made you quite mean, apparently." 

She doesn't allow you to be grumpy. She grabs your chin and pulls off your pout with a kiss that's dirtier than the last. You can only moan in response, and when Wanda determinedly gropes her way into your pants, not bothering with foreplay, and is greeted by a dampness so massive it could be embarrassing, it's she who breaks into a moan.

"Fuck, I almost forgot how damn hot you feel on my fingers." You even try to regain some control of the kiss, to get that cocky attitude out of your girlfriend, but there's no way to do it when Wanda sinks two fingers inside you, as deep as the position allows. All that rips through your lips is a throaty moan. Wanda giggles mischievously at your reactions. "I really can't choose, baby. Having you squeezing my fingers or buried inside me. If you can keep up the pace, do you think we could try the second one later?"

It wasn't really a difficult request to comply with - until it was, because Wanda was more insatiable than usual. The first orgasm on the armchair was not even close to being enough for her. Neither for you, to be fair.

Wanda seemed to have discovered something new - a dominant attitude that you both hadn't yet explored. As far as you're concerned, whatever Wanda wishes will work for you. You're there to please her, simple as that.

She seems to have no restrictions on the ways this can happen. With her fingers deep inside you, her tongue swirling across your clit or changing positions, and sitting on your face and coming messily until she's squirming all over the sheets.

She already came four times when you sense a change of attitude, and the connection between you and her is so intimate, that Wanda has barely adjusted herself on the bed and you're already hugging her from behind, your arms around her and your mouth busy marking her neck. She gives you a sleepy smile, looking truly ruined for the first time all night. It suddenly occurs to you that she'll tire more easily now.

You kiss behind her ear and adjust your hips. Wanda sighs as she feels the familiar hardness rubbing up against her ass.

"Don't tell me you don't have some energy saved up for your own challenge?" You tease next to her ear, grinding gently into her. The friction elicits heavy sighs from both of you, and Wanda grabs your hand that rests on her belly before entwining your fingers together.

“Just one more, dorogoy (sweetheart).” She whispers as she guides your hands into her chest. Your free one helps yourself fit into her, and the same moment you grope her naked breast, playing with the hard nipple, you bury your cock inside her. Wanda lets out a sinful moan, her velvet walls welcoming you with a breathtaking heat. You nearly came with the mere state of being inside her - the way she squeezes you takes you off orbit for a moment.

You wanna be gentle, she’s a pregnant lady for god’s sake. But it seems that Wanda expects just the opposite the second you move - She takes the lead of the movements, your hips serving as a lever for her to rock back into your cock. You have to bite her shoulder to keep yourself from coming, and her response is to hold your hand thingly against her breasts, a single request for you to keep stimulating her nipples. 

There’s no way to keep this peace for long - Wanda herself feels her body betraying her a short moment after, the deep strokes of your cock taking her to blinding pleasure now for her to do more than drool into her pillow. You found a sweet spot and she arches her back, a new wave of arousal dripping down her thighs. 

She struggles to catch a breath - trying to tell you she's close. There’s no need, really. You can feel the tightness increasing, and it’s impossible for you to hold it when Wanda finally comes. She cries out your name and her body goes stiff the next second. Your cum stays inside her, just like your cock. 

“That was… fuck…” She tries to form a thought, all tingly, with numb, tingling legs. You kiss her shoulder, slowly rocking your hips only to hear her soft protest. “Too much, babe.”

After so many orgasms, that’s not a surprise. But Wanda feels so tender, it’s so addictive. You move a hand down, to play with her clit between her fingers and she can’t help but whine.

“Who’s the whiny mess, now?” You tease and Wanda's attempt at response turns into a deep groan when you thrust into her powerfully, enough to shake the bed. She chokes into a moan next when you start to catch a rhythm. Your fingers, toying with her neglected clit almost bring her to insanity. 

The next climax comes faster than the last, and it’s harder. You have your face buried in her neck, your bodies entangled together as you move inside her. Wanda presses her face into her pillow when she comes, pleasure tears wetting the bed like her squirt. You groan against her skin when you fill her up this time, balls deep into her.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Your rusky moans in her ear prolong her climax - she can feel herself squeezing the emptiness when you pull out. A mess of white cum coming out from both of you. It’s such a dirty sexual act to stroke yourself a little longer, to spread out every drop of your pleasure into her skin. 

Everything, every drop, belongs to Wanda. It’s all hers, because of her. 

Suddenly, she wishes she could do the same. Fill you up too, and own every version of your pleasure. This thought is written into her brain and pushed away so she can call your name. Your warm arms are around her before she can miss them.

“I should get you clean up.” You whisper and she holds closer.

“Later.” It’s all she whispers back, being defeated by her exhaustion next. 

You kiss the top of her forehead once she falls asleep, a smile on your lips before you allow yourself to give up on the tiredness as well.

-&-

If it hadn't been for the memories of last night and the sweet scent you knew, your natural reaction would have been to jump away in alarm at the soft caress in her hair. But you knew it was Wanda, and instead of running away, you sank your face against her neck and felt her giggle slightly, her heart racing before settling down.

She adjusted a little a minute later, and with a husky voice in your ear, whispered; "You have to get up, darling. We should talk."

Despite the soft tension that rose in your shoulders, Wanda's request was really just that. As a matter of course, it made you almost displeased that she would hold something like that back so as not to bother you. 

You hummed in agreement and placed a chaste kiss on her neck before pulling away. Wanda watched you expectantly, but you just stretched and pulled the covers off as if nothing important needed to be discussed.

She couldn't contain her own anxiety. "Are we going to talk now?"

You chuckled briefly, glancing at her for a second before looking around the room for your clothes. "I think we need to eat something first."

"Y/N..."

"I'm not avoiding the conversation." You interrupt her sincerely, to reassure the fears she can't hide from her eyes. You offer her a smile, your hands clutching the pants you've just found. "I'm just hungry. And I know you are too. This isn't an unpleasant topic, Wanda, it's just going to be difficult. For obvious reasons." You gesture softly, signaling to the hideaway room, so different from the fancy one she lived in in the tower. By instinct or not, once your pants are on, you also gently stroke the knife scar on your abdomen. Wanda knows exactly what you mean. "I think we're going to need a real plan. But I really don't want to come up with one on an empty stomach."

She nods, trying to smile but almost grimacing. Wanda is so nervous. All the passion of last night and the excitement of meeting you again are now calming down, and reality is coming back to her. You finish dressing and offer one last smile of reassurance before leaving the room in search of something to eat, and Wanda's immediate reaction is to put a hand over her belly.

She gasps softly. Her magic is able to feel life growing there. Her eyes fill with tears. 

Looking around, she spots some mold on the walls. She notices some of Natasha's stolen surveillance equipment tucked away in a corner so they can track the agents and breaks down a sob.

How could she let this happen? How could she be so irresponsible as to think of having children in such a condition? Even before, she no longer had a home. Living with the Avengers was almost a favor, an employment contract. And what kind of mother could she be in a superhero routine anyway?

And on top of everything, her child won't be able to meet her uncle either, buried in a land she once called home.

Wanda only realizes she's in the middle of an anxious thoughts spiral because suddenly a voice is calling her name. Your face comes into focus again, and she realizes that you're trying to help her breathe.

Great, a panic attack was all she needed.

"Hey, baby, it's okay, I'm here with you. Just breathe, okay?" you guided, gesturing for her to imitate your breathing. In a corner of the room, a breakfast tray smelled very good. Wanda tried to follow your lead, naming five objects she could see. She could see eggs, bacon, waffles, and orange juice. She could see a shiny chain with a small ring around your neck.

"Where did you get this?" She asks breathlessly about the item, and you smile pleased to see that she is coming to her senses.

"China, three years ago. I was working at the time, and I had a bad habit of keeping souvenirs." You say, stroking her hair. "It was in my pocket, and I put it back while I was in the kitchen. That's why you didn't get a chance to see it last night. Do you like it?"

She hums in agreement, having to close her eyes for a moment. You wait, wiping away her tears until Wanda has calmed down completely.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." She starts as soon as she can speak without crying. You mumble that it's okay, but Wanda keeps talking. "I just started thinking about how we're going to do this. How are we going to raise a child in this kind of life? We don't even have a home, let alone money. What if I end up in prison again, and they want to take my baby away and-"

"Wanda, calm down, nothing like that is going to happen." You interrupt but she shakes her head.

Just a second later, she breaks into a sob. "I'm so scared." She confesses tearfully.

You look into her eyes.“I’m scared too.” You confess in the same, a relief laugh escaping your lips now that you’re both being honest with each other for good. “I’m nearly petrified, to be fair. But it’s alright, Wanda. It is. Because for the first time in my life, I am not alone. I have you and you have me, and as luck would have it, a bunch of grumpy superheroes as well. We don’t have to be so scared, we got this. I’m here for you, sweetheart.”

She sniffles, getting shy all of a sudden. Her gaze goes to her lap before she finds your eyes again. And then she whispers: “I love you.”

You blink widened eyes at her, caught off guard. Wanda swallows, but then she smiles. She never needed words anyway; Your actions towards each other were always more than enough, not only for her but for the whole world to see exactly how much you cared for one another. 

“You don't have to say anything-”

“I love you too.” You cut her out, a bit out of breath. Wanda can feel her cheeks growing pink and it doesn’t help that yours are doing the same. But you giggle shyly then, letting her go to cover your red face for a moment. “Shit, why does that feel so weird? My chest is so warm…” Your reaction elicits a hearty chuckle from her.

“Perhaps you’re allergic to love confessions.” She teases, receiving a playful warning stare before you bring your arms around her once more, to pull her closer and on your lap. Wanda doesn’t waste time in pressing her lips to yours, smiling into the kiss like yourself.

You break apart to tell her: “Don’t get so cocky, but you’re the first person I said that to.” She hums contently, her fingers playing with the hair on your nape. You stare at her eyes for a moment, just memorizing every aspect of her face as if she would ever leave your mind, until both of you are scrunching up your noses, making funny faces at each other and breaking into shared giggles the next. 

You could marry her, right now at that second. Instead of asking, you just let out a deep breath and hug her again. The atmosphere of the room changed to a comfortable so intimate that for a second, you could believe that dirty hideout room was actually a home.

"We’re gonna be alright, Wanda." You whisper next. “I won’t let anything bad ever happen to you again.”

She sighs, breaking the hug to look at you. Her soft hands caressing your cheeks. “You can’t promise that, and it’s okay. Because I love you and I can do anything with you here.”

You kiss her briefly. “I can promise. I just did, the universe can fuck off, I’ll stand by my girl.” It’s your stubborn response before you break the distance again to kiss her.

For the first time in a long while, Wanda doesn’t feel so scared. She trusts you entirely, even if your promise is impossible and the future holds a nearly dangerous uncertainty. You’ll take care of her and she’ll do the same for you. 

She allows herself to push away real life, at least during breakfast. Sharing food in bed, giggling like two love-stuck teenagers. Making love in her bed all day, whispering sweet nothing to each other.

Until it’s time to get up and face reality.

Despite the evidence of your previous activities - matching set of hickeys and borrowed clothes - none of the Avengers pay any mind to that. Sam is clearly getting used to your presence, but he offers a grin at Wanda’s state before focusing on Natasha’s repeating security tips for him.

The widow is about to ask you and Wanda for a chat, you both can see in her expression that she wants to know how the whole baby thing will work out from now on when her cell phone rings. She steps out for a moment, muttering to whoever is on the other side - Wilson tells Wanda that’s probably Steve wanting to share locations and wondering if everything is alright. But when Natasha comes back to the room, she’s tense and serious.

She takes a deep breath and looks at Wanda.

“Clint decided to make a deal. For his family.” She says. Doesn’t take much explanation for you or Sam to understand that the Feds got him and instead of going back to the raft, he got himself some special conditions considering his service history. Wanda, out of surprise or denial, stares back at Nat with confused eyes. The widow sighs. “He’s not coming back.”

You don’t know everything about the Avengers dynamics, but you know about Wanda. And how much she cared for Clint since the man was some sort of mentor for her. That and well, Pietro gave his life for him so that has to mean something. Clint was supposed to take care of Wanda, not just turn his back on her like that. She didn’t need to join the team or this fight, but she did, at his request, and now he didn’t even bother to look after her, to make sure she was safe and well before taking deals that wouldn’t allow them to see each other for quite some time.

The saddest part is that Wanda understands it. Family comes first, after all. So even though it made her sick to her stomach, she wasn’t his daughter. Not really.

“It’s okay.” She forces a smile, trying to look “okay” for Natasha’s pitiful eyes. “Seriously, Nat. It’s fine. I hope it was a good one. Maybe Sam should try it too, he has family as well.”

Wanda is clearly taking the focus out of her, and because you can see her shaking, you take her hand. She instinctively leans into you, finding some calming comfort in your heat.

Sam scratches behind his head, a little unsure of how he became the center of attention suddenly. “Hm, yeah, but… I should wait a little. I mean, my sister is fine. She has nothing to do with any of this, so I think she can manage to be without my help for a few more weeks.”

Natasha merely shakes her head in knowledge, her attention on the witch pretending everything was fine. “Sure thing Wilson.” She mutters. “Wanda, I know Clint wanted to say goodbye, but he just… needed to make a choice.”

Yep, that definitely didn’t help Wanda feel any better. You offer Nat a look, but the widow is almost too terrible at the whole consolation thing.

“What I mean-”

“He chose his family. I got it the first time, Nat, I didn’t need it to hear it twice.” Wanda cuts off, very harshly. Hurt. “Like I said, it’s fine. I’m not a fucking child, I can understand why he did it. He was three kids and Nathaniel is just a baby.”

You try to ease the tension on Wanda’s shoulders by kissing the exposed skin of her neck. She smiles sweetly, still upset but appreciative of your gesture. The scene seems to make Nat remember something very important.

“Well, speaking of babies…”

Turns out the other Avengers forgot to mention that to Sam. He got very loud and excited.

[tldrthor]

five more minutes | steve rogers

Summary: Steve marvels at his sleepy girl // established relationship fluff, fem!reader, no use of (y/n) // word count: 1k

enjoyed? please like/reblog! you can find my masterlist here <3

Steve Rogers had never been a man who slept easily. It hadn’t been that way since he was a baby, keeping his poor mother awake through all hours of the night. As he grew, sleep never came easily — too many battles, too many scars, and the weight of the world on his shoulders from the moment he learned that to exist was to fight.

These days, the losses of everyone and everything pressed on him like a boulder, something he could never outrun. No, to sleep was to confront — and Steve had done enough confronting for a lifetime.

Most of his fellow Avengers knew the sting of restless nights. They understood that sleep, with its blank slate, was a risky thing — a place where the cruelest parts of their minds could take hold. Steve’s dreams were never kind. He often dreamed of Bucky falling from the train, of his mother lying on her deathbed, or of you — you, lying in a pool of crimson blood.

He flinched as that particular memory resurfaced. The day he thought he’d lose you. His eyes flicked to your sleeping form, cocooned in the duvet like a hibernating creature. Sometimes, he wondered if this was all real or if it was just a dream — a dream he was overdue to wake from.

You were so serene, so untouched by the world’s cruelty. It struck him again, how remarkable it was that after all you’d been through, sleep was still a sanctuary for you. He felt a pang of envy. You were able to rest in ways he couldn’t. Your face was peaceful, your breath slow and steady, while his thoughts raced like an out-of-control train.

Watching you fall asleep each night was like witnessing a miracle. You had this routine, a rhythm he had come to cherish. It was small, simple things — filling your water bottle, turning off the lights, and whispering “I love you, sleep well” before you sank into the comforting embrace of the night.

You had once asked him, “Does it bother you that I sleep so much when you don’t? Do you wish I joined you in the early hours of the morning?”

Even now, that question made him smile. He remembered you, stumbling out of bed hours after him, his oversized pajamas swallowing you whole. It made his chest swell with pride — this little thing with messy hair and a habit of stealing his clothes was his. He got to be there with you, cradling you while you slept, listening to your soft snores.

He could still feel the gentle pressure of his hands on your sleepy face, rubbing the exhaustion from your barely open eyes. He’d kissed the top of your messy hair, holding you close as he whispered, “I love you as you are, my sleepy girl.”

He was the luckiest man alive, and he knew it.

But sometimes, when the sun was just starting to rise, and he had to wake you up, that luck felt like a curse. He couldn’t help it. You were so peaceful, so content in your little cocoon of warmth and softness. The moment he dared disturb that tranquility, you became a beast to tame — his beast, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, kneeling beside the bed. His fingers gently stroked your hair, watching you stir. “It’s time to wake up. We’ve got training in an hour.”

A soft, incoherent noise escaped you as you buried your face deeper into the pillow. “Five more minutes…”

He couldn’t help but laugh. Same script, same lines. “Angel,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You’ve already had five more minutes than I should’ve given you.”

You leaned into his touch but didn’t open your eyes.

“I don’t want to go,” you groaned, wrapping yourself tighter in the duvet.

He sighed but grinned, moving to open the blinds. Sunlight poured into the room, bathing the bed in a warm, golden glow. You, of course, immediately buried your face deeper into the covers, a little mound of resistance.

He sat back down on the edge of the bed, gently pulling the duvet away from your eyes. “Come on, sweet girl. You know you have to get up.”

And then — the bargain. He saw it coming a mile away, heard the seductive lull of your voice as it lured him in.

“Come back to bed,” you coaxed, your voice thick with sleep. “We can cuddle.”

Damn you.

“Can’t, baby. You know how much I’d love to,” he whispered, trying to keep his voice strong as he planted soft kisses on your forehead, your temple, your cheek. “Come on, time to get up.”

A dramatic sigh came from beneath the covers. “You’re so mean.”

Ah, the anger phase. His least favourite.

“I know, sleepy girl,” he replied in a mock-somber tone, unable to resist the playful tease. “Open those pretty eyes for me. Let me see them.”

One eye cracked open, barely a slit. Success. “There she is.”

Before he could celebrate, that eye shut again. Of course. He checked the time—training was fast approaching, and he had promised you he’d give you enough time to get ready. But what could he do? The sleepy beauty before him was winning the fight — again.

He checked his phone, his impulsive fingers moving quicker than his rational, captain brain could stop them -- a quick text to Sam and an instant response:

Can you cover training this morning?

Sure thing. I’ll put them through their paces ;)

With a satisfied smile, Steve kicked off his boots and climbed over you, slipping back under the covers. You stirred slightly, one eye cracking open to assess the disruption.

“What doing?” you mumbled groggily.

“Shh, my sleepy girl,” he whispered, fitting himself into your warm space. You immediately relaxed, a grin spreading across your face at your unexpected victory. He pressed a kiss to your neck, pulling you closer. “Just five more minutes.”

This fic came to me suddenly even though it wasn't on my radar at all! Hope you all enjoy. Reminder you can join my taglist via the google form here <3

Masterlist

[just-aake]

Dyeing to See You Again Part 2

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Sequel to Dyeing to See You Again. Is it reasonable to believe that you would ever see someone who has once again disappeared from your life?

Warnings: light fluff, light angst

Words: 2046

Ohio - 2018 (Before the Snap)

Your fingers fidget with the flip phone in your hand. Only one number is in the contacts of the device. 

Natasha’s

She had given it to you in case of an emergency or any trouble, but at the moment, you’re afraid that she’s the one who’s facing trouble right now.

After Natasha left, you were unable to fall back asleep, the unsettling feeling in your chest remaining despite her comforting and reassuring promises. 

To distract your mind, you decide to start your day early, doing mindless tasks around the home and then the shop when the abrupt news alert brings you to where you are now.

Your finger hovers above the call button hesitantly, your brows creased in worry as you return your attention to the tv. 

The news shows the devastation of the attack on the streets of New York earlier today, followed by the announcement of the disappearance of Tony Stark.

There’s no mention of any of the other Avengers, so you hoped that meant Natasha wasn’t there. 

However, there hasn't been any new information for hours now. 

You watch as the news anchor repeats the same things once again.

“Relief and emergency personnel are still on the scene, finding and tending to the injured. We’ll continue to provide updates as the situa—”

You stand up in shock as the person on the screen suddenly disintegrates into dust, disappearing from before your eyes. Immediately, the newsroom dissolves into a clamor of panic and screams.

Then the screen goes black.

Your paralyzed reflection stares back at you as you try to understand what just happened. 

Recovering from the shock, you quickly press the call button without hesitation, needing to contact Natasha.

You begin to pace anxiously as the phone rings. When the line goes to voicemail, you bring your other hand up to press against your lips in a nervous gesture when you freeze.

The automatic voicemail message plays in your ear as you watch your raised hand slowly disappear.

Swallowing hard at the sight, you release a shaky breath as the phone beeps. 

You try to keep the fear out of your voice as you speak, hoping that Natasha is okay and will hear your message.

Soon after, the phone drops to the ground with a thud, the salon now empty of any presence.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

The atmosphere in the quinjet during the ride back to the Avenger Compound is somber and silent as the remaining members of the team attempt to recover from their loss. 

Everyone dragged themselves defeatedly through the compound to the communal area where Steve decided to address the group.

“Be prepared to move soon. We need to check how much damage and effect Thanos caused and see who else is…” Steve trails off, his hands tightening into fists against the table.

“Gone,” Thor finishes for him, slumping into one of the chairs, continuing solemnly. “They’re all gone.”

“We don’t know that,” Steve stresses.

The others began to speak up with their comments and opinions. 

All but one. 

Natasha strides silently past everyone, heading directly to her room. Without pause, she goes straight to the bag she had yet to unpack since returning to the compound after rescuing Wanda and Vision.

Her hands are shaking as she rummages around, trying to find what she’s looking for before ultimately turning the bag upside down and dumping all of the contents onto the table. 

The flip phone finally appears, sliding to a stop at the edge of the table.

Natasha quickly grabs and opens the device. 

A message pops up on the screen, stating she has one new voicemail. 

Her eyes lock on the time that it was sent, and she swallows nervously upon realizing when you had called her.

Hesitantly, Natasha presses the button to play the voicemail and raises the phone to her ear to listen. 

A shaky breath comes through the static, and then she hears your voice.

I love you, Natasha

A thud follows soon after before the voicemail goes silent and ends.

Painful fear grips Natasha’s heart as she pulls the phone in front of her, desperately scanning the screen for any additional messages from you. Finding nothing, she immediately presses the call button. 

“Come on,” Natasha whispers urgently to herself. “Pick up, Y/n. Please pick up.”

The phone seems to ring endlessly before eventually going to voicemail. 

Natasha presses the call button again.

And again.

Time passes in a blur.  

Eventually, her door opens, and without looking up from her crouched position on the ground, Natasha knows who it is.

She keeps the phone clutched tightly in her hand, pressed against the top of her head defeatedly. Its screen displays the numerous failed call attempts to you.

“We need to get them back,” Natasha states determinedly, looking up, her eyes still glistening with tears. “Whatever it takes.”

“We will,” Steve promises.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Ohio - 2023 

You let out a surprise gasp as you watch the surroundings change around you. 

Your salon is now empty of its products and supplies, and the chairs and counters are covered with sheets, protecting them from the layer of dust accumulating on top.

It looked as if nobody had been in here for some time.

Remembering what you were doing earlier, you brush off the disorienting condition of the room and search around, trying to find the burner phone to contact Natasha, but you find that you don’t see it anywhere.

Confused, you wonder if you may have left it at home. Stepping out of the shop, you are met with people on the streets and sidewalk, some with surprised exclamations and others with confused expressions like yours.

Eventually, you find out what actually happened. 

The blip. 

The five years lost.

The death of Tony Stark.

And of Natasha

That’s the only news you heard about her since your return.

With the Compound gone and no way to contact any of the other Avengers, you know as much as any other ordinary civilian.

Despite it all, this feeling of not knowing is not new to you. 

After all, Natasha had done the same thing when you were younger, disappearing without a trace. And against all odds, you had the chance to see her again.

Who's to say this time is any different?

So, you wait. 

You try to return to your usual routine of life from before and you wait, holding onto the hope that the people who truly mean something to you will return.

One evening, as you’re going to take out the trash, you open your door and pause in surprise when you see a familiar red-haired girl standing there.

Her hands are clasped in front of her, fidgeting slightly with nervousness, and her expression carries the same apprehension as when you first met her, though now her eyes appear more haunted and wounded than before.

“Am I still welcome here?” Wanda asks hesitantly.

You invite her inside with a warm smile, offering her a safe refuge in your home.

You’ve heard about the rumors and gossip of the events surrounding Westview and what supposedly happened there.

However, you’re not one to judge or speak about things you don’t fully understand, so you don’t bring it up in any of your conversations with her.

Over time, Wanda tells you about the final battle. 

About the things she learned from the others during the missing years. 

About Natasha’s sacrifice.

The knowledge of what happened fills you with sadness, yet you still cling to the hope in your heart.

When Wanda decides to leave one day, you give her the location of a cabin in a remote area that belonged to one of Natasha’s secret stashes of safe houses. 

You’re sure if Natasha was here, she would’ve wanted to provide Wanda with someplace safe.

Some time after, one morning, as you approach your shop, you spot a blonde-haired girl peeking through the window, examining the building curiously.

Her face looks familiar, and you try to recall where you remember her from before your eyes widen slightly in realization.

“Yelena?”

She turns around at your call, scrutinizing you critically, before relaxing her tense posture.

“Now I understand why Natasha spent all of her time in this area.”

You invite her inside, and the two of you bond over your shared memories of Natasha. 

Though Yelena was young when she lived undercover as your neighbor, she tells you that she remembers you and your friendship with Natasha. 

Of how happier Natasha became after you entered her life. 

In return, you share with Yelena about all the things Natasha told you about her and about how much she loves her little sister. You tell her how Natasha’s blue hair when she was younger was supposed to be blonde because Natasha wanted to match with Yelena’s, and how she chose to go blonde after their reunion. 

After reminiscing about the woman you both love, Yelena tells you about the tombstone dedicated to Natasha at the cemetery near your old home, surrounded by flowers, gifts, and messages from everyone who loved and valued her.

Your heart both breaks and warms at the thought.

That information should have been enough for anyone to give up and find peace with Natasha’s fate.

But you can’t. 

Natasha had promised you that she would return, and you had promised to be here when she did.

So, you wait and you hope.

A year passes by in a blur, and you’ve somewhat returned to the simple life you had before. 

Things in the world also return to normal with the exceptions of the usual news alerts of aliens, alternate dimensions, time travel, and magic. Hearing all of that, anyone would believe that anything is possible in this universe.

It was one late evening when the bell above the door chimes lightly. 

“Sorry, we’re closed,” you say, without looking up.

A sharp intake of breath echoes in the room, followed by a pause before a voice asks, “Even for me?”

You drop everything in your hand, freezing at the familiar voice. 

Turning slowly, your eyes fall upon her face, a small smile gracing her lips. Her hair is longer now with the return of her signature red color and a hint of blonde at the ends.

A shaky exhale escapes from her as Natasha looks at you too with a fond gaze, as if also trying to memorize every feature of your face. She swallows hard and greets.

“Hey, Y/n.”

“Hey,” you reply instinctively in a breathless whisper, moving slowly closer as tears form at the corners of your eyes. 

Stopping in front of her, you reach up slowly to touch her face, still in disbelief at the sight of her, but you pause in your action, searching her eyes. 

For you, it’s been over a year since you last touched her, but you know it must’ve been much longer for her.

Natasha nods, giving you the reassurance you need.

One of your hands gently cradles her cheek, and she leans into your touch, her eyes closing as a peaceful expression forms on her face and she releases a soft breath of relief. 

Your other hand moves to her hair, your fingers gliding through the strands with a sad smile, and you take a deep breath to choke back the tears threatening to spill.

“Your hair’s two different colors,” you comment lightly.

Natasha lets out a sad chuckle at your words and opens her eyes to meet yours, giving you a tiny teasing smile.

“Well, you said you had a soft spot for redheads. I figured you’d like me better if you saw me like this when you return.”

You can’t help but laugh softly in disbelief as you bury yourself into her, unable to hold back the sobs anymore at the fact that she’s here. 

Natasha wraps her arms around you tightly, her head tucked close against you. She presses a soft kiss against your head and whispers, “I’m sorry it took so long.”

You shake your head at her apology, replying firmly, “You came back. That’s all that matters.”

Her arms tighten around you, pulling you closer as if afraid to let go.

“I’d do anything to see you again.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: Thank you for reading! Initially, I didn't have a part 2 for this, but you all liked the first part, so I wanted to give them a happier ending.

[scoonsalicious]

2.2 Major*

Summary: Lily McIntire, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, Explicit sexual content Minors: GTFO; I don’t serve your kind here (oral (f-receiving), fingering, edging, squirting)

Word Count: 2.9k

Previously On...: You told Lily off, Bucky offered you a ride home on his bike.

A/N: So, my job decided not to renew my contract for the upcoming year, so I've been pissed off, annoyed and frustrated. Please enjoy this extra part today because I could use the extra love <3. Also, it's smut!

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

God, you thought as you held on to Bucky a little tighter than was probably appropriate, he felt fucking amazing. Like a marble statue of a Greek god, come to life. You honestly could not believe how well this evening had ended up going, even after your final discussion with Lily. You’d been worried, after you’d said what you said to her, that Bucky would be upset with you for how you talked to his best friend but you quickly realized that, if he was the kind of guy who agreed with her line of thinking, well, then he wasn’t the kind of guy you would be interested in getting to know better, anyway. Thank goodness that didn’t seem to be the case. 

It was colder than you expected for an early September night as you whipped toward the City, and you found yourself pressing into Bucky’s back. You’d been a little disappointed when you saw he’d had a motorcycle instead of a car– it was impossible to actually hold a conversation with him on a bike– but you were more than happy to snuggle up to him like this, instead, and judging by the way his abdominal muscles contracted when you rested your cheek against his upper back, he seemed to be enjoying it, too.

It was about a forty-five minute drive from the bar where you’d met the Avengers to your condo building, and by the time you reached the city limits, it had begun to drizzle. Once Bucky pulled up to your building, it was raining in full force, and the two of you were soaked.

Once you’d both gotten off the bike and secured the helmets, you made a mad dash to the awning of your building. “I’m so sorry,” you said, laughing at how ridiculous you both must look. “If I had known it was going to open up like this, I would have insisted on taking the train.”

Bucky moved a strand of rain-slicked hair away from your face. “I would still have insisted on driving you,” he said with a smile.

You both stared at each other for a moment, and then spoke at the same time: “Can I walk you up?” Bucky asked at the same time you said “Would you like to come up?” You both chuckled.

“I would feel awful, sending you right back out into the rain,” you said as you let the doorman hold your building’s front door open for you both. “Come inside and warm up a little; dry off.”

Bucky swallowed and nodded, following you into the elevator and you noticed him trying, so hard, not to notice the way your erect nipples strained against the wet fabric of your shirt as it clung to your chest.

When you reached your floor, he trailed behind you, gently holding onto the hem of your jacket as he followed you to your door, as if he were afraid of losing you in the hallway. You tried to mentally run through what your condo had looked like before you’d left for the evening. The cleaners had come today while you were at work, and you were fairly sure you hadn’t left anything embarrassing lying around. 

You unlocked the door and slipped inside, Bucky close behind. Locking the door behind you, you turned to face him, watching as he studied the main living room of your home. “This is nice,” he said, taking everything in. 

“Thanks.” You slipped out of your jacket and hung it up on the hook by the door. “Let me get you a towel,” you offered, moving toward your linen closet. 

No sooner had you opened the closet door than the lights in your apartment went out. “Doll?” you heard Bucky call to you from the living room. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” you called back, grateful that your emergency candles were also located in the linen closet. “I’ll be right there.”

Bucky looked out the floor-to-ceiling windows of your living room. “Looks like a good chunk of the neighborhood’s out, too,” he said. “Glad we got off that elevator when we did, otherwise, we’d be stuck in there instead of here.”

You felt your cheeks flush as you brought out the towels and a handful of candles. The idea of being trapped in an elevator for an undetermined amount of time with a man this beautiful would not necessarily have been a bad thing. “Here,” you said, handing Bucky some of the candles. “Will you help me light these?”

You and Bucky worked companionably for the next few minutes, lighting the candles and setting them around the living room until you’d created a warm, glowing perimeter. It would almost have been romantic, if it had been done on purpose. You handed Bucky a towel. “Here you go,” you said, then reached for your phone. “Do you mind if I put on some music?”

“Not at all,” he said, rubbing the towel over his hair. “Put on that band you like; the one that plays that song we danced to.”

You smiled. “Yeah, okay.” You navigated to your music player and opened up your Bleachers playlist, putting it on shuffle. You turned the volume down low enough so that you could comfortably talk over it while still listening to the music. “Can I get you something to drink?” you asked, trying to be a good hostess in spite of the current circumstances.

“I’m good,” Bucky said, taking the towel from his head. You had to suppress a snicker– his hair was going in every direction.

“What?” he asked, a small frown playing across his lips.

“Nothing,” you said, trying not to giggle. “You just look like an adorable drowned rat. Come here.” You started walking toward Bucky, and he toward you, until you met each other in the middle of your living room floor. “Let me,” you said, taking the towel from him and running it across his hair again. He bent down to allow you easier access to the top of his head, and when you pulled your hands away, he looked up at you through his lashes, stealing your breath with how beautiful he was in the candlelight. 

“Thank you, again,” you swallowed, “for driving me home.” Before he could reply, you stood up on your tiptoes and planted a kiss to the corner of his mouth. The action seemed to catch you both by surprise, because you each froze. There was a sudden shift in the air, a coiled tension; it was like suddenly, you both knew what was about to happen between you. You knew what was going to happen, and that it was inevitable. 

“I… don’t ever do this,” you whispered, lips so close to his face that they were fluttering against his skin. 

“Me, either,” he told you, his voice gone husky. “We don’t have to, if you don’t want to. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“I want to,” you said softly, your voice barely audible. “Really badly.”

“Me, too. So bad.”

You weren’t sure who reached for who first, but in an instant, his hands were on your waist, yours around his neck as your mouths found one another. He tasted like a hint of bourbon as his tongue made its way into your mouth, and you moaned as he pressed his hips against yours. 

“Major,” he groaned, moving his lips from your mouth, down your neck, and to the covered peaks of your breasts. He sucked at a hardened nipple through the fabric of your drenched shirt and you arched your back, pressing your flesh further into his mouth. “Fuck,” he moaned. 

“Please, Bucky,” you heard yourself whine desperately as he continued to suckle on you through your shirt. “Oh fuck, please.”

He pulled his mouth away from your breast. “‘Please,’ what, pretty girl? You gotta tell me what you want with your words.”

His tone was so seductive, so commanding, that you felt yourself getting wetter by the second. “Please… touch me, Sergeant,” you begged, taking his hand and putting it between your legs. “Everywhere.” You found his mouth with yours once again, and could feel him smirk into your lips as he kissed you.

“When you ask so nicely, doll…” he said, and you felt his hands grasp the hem of your shirt, tugging it up over your torso. You raised your arms above your head to assist him in removing it, and you stood before him, top completely bare.

“Fuck,” he groaned, reaching out a hand to grab and knead at the soft mound of your breast. “You’re fucking gorgeous.”

You took a fistful of his shirt in your hand as you kissed him again, gently guiding you both down to the floor until he had himself propped up on one elbow above you. “Off,” you panted, pawing at his shirt, trying to pull it over his head, but Bucky hesitated. 

“What is it?” you asked gently, when it was obvious he was reluctant. 

Bucky avoided looking you in the eye. “I’ve got… scars,” he said, embarrassment written across his face. “They’re… they’re not pretty.”

You leaned up to kiss him. “Do any of them keep your dick from working?” you asked.

Bucky barked a startled laugh. “...No.”

“Then take your clothes off, Sergeant,” you said, smiling at him. “That’s a direct order.” 

“Ma’am, yes Ma’am.” Grinning, Bucky leaned back on his haunches and tugged his shirt over his head. If you’d had a cock, it would have sprung to attention at the sight of his muscles, the six pack that rippled across his stomach, the Adonis belt that pointed to unseen delights still to be revealed. You barely even noticed the ragged lines of scar tissue along his shoulder.

That was, however, until you caught the reflection of the candlelight in the metal of his left arm. That was unexpected, you thought to yourself, but by no means a dealbreaker. You bit your bottom lip as you studied him. Despite the scars and his obvious prosthesis, you couldn’t help but think he was perfect.

You reached down to the buttons of your jeans and began undoing them, desperate to get them off your body and him into it. 

“Let me help you, doll,” Bucky said. With swiftness but exquisite care, he rolled your pants down. You lifted your hips to assist him and he gently shimmied the wet fabric off of you, until he was pulling one leg off, then the next, leaving you in just a pair of pink lace panties. You squirmed slightly under his appraising gaze before he hooked his index fingers into either side of the waistband of your underwear and began to–agonizingly slowly– pull them down your thighs. 

When he’d moved them all the way down your legs, he fisted the material in his metal hand, bringing it up to his nose and inhaling. “God,” he moaned as he palmed himself through the jeans he was still wearing. “You smell divine, doll.”

His words sent another rush of wetness seeping from you, and you were convinced you were going to leave a puddle on the floor if he didn’t do something to you soon. “Bucky,” you moaned.

Tossing your panties aside, Bucky leaned forward and, placing one hand on each of your knees, slowly spread your legs open until you were fully on display before him. Suddenly self-conscious, you tried to close your legs, but Bucky stopped you with a hungry look. “Please don’t, doll,” he whispered as he looked up at you through his lashes. “You’re so fucking beautiful… I just wanna look at you a minute.”

You closed your eyes and let out a shaky exhale as Bucky positioned himself between your legs, lowering himself down so that he was lying on his stomach, his face mere inches from your center. He ran a hand along the inside of each of your legs, from your knees to your thighs, and you gasped at the difference in temperature and sensation– one soft and warm, the other hard and cold. When he reached the apex, he tucked a thumb on either side of your outer folds and ran them up your slit, opening you to him like a fresh, ripe peach.

“So gorgeous,” he murmured, and you could feel the breath of his words hot against your core. “I need to take a taste, doll,” he whispered, and before you could fully prepare yourself, his mouth was on you. Your hips immediately bucked at the hot contact, his large hands continuing to spread you wide as his tongue explored you.

“Fuck,” you gasped, trying not to vibrate out of your skin with the pleasure of it all. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Oh my god! Don’t stop.”

Bucky pulled his mouth away from you just enough to murmur “Wouldn’t dream of it, doll,” before diving in again. His mouth was magic as he worked you, from nipping and sucking on your clit, to thrusting his tongue in and out of you, to gently nibbling the sensitive skin of your engorged outer lips. Everything he did was heaven, and you felt your orgasm building with rapid speed.

“Oh, shit,” you cried as his tongue lapped at your weeping hole. “Oh shit, Bucky, I’m gonna cum!”

He pulled his mouth away from you, leaving you gasping at the lack of contact. “Not yet, doll,” he said with a filthy grin. “Not yet.”

He proceeded to play you with his mouth, as if you were an instrument and he was a world class musician, but he wouldn’t let you cum. Every time you got close, he would back off, taking you just far enough before pulling you back from the ledge. It was frustrating the shit out of you, but it was magnificent. You had never been edged so well in your entire life.

Finally, finally, after what felt like hours, it was too much. You needed to cum or you felt like you were going to die. “Bucky,” you cried, pressing the heels of your hands into your eye sockets and feeling the space wet with tears. “Bucky, please! Please, let me cum! I need it, Bucky! Need it so fucking bad!” 

His tongue found your clit again, dancing circles over the sensitive nub, and you felt one of his hands let go of you, only to have two of his thick fingers sliding into your entrance with no resistance. He finger fucked you while he sucked on your clit, and the combined sensation, after all the edging, was driving you crazy. “Holy fuck,” you whimpered. “So close.”

Almost as if taking your words as a challenge, Bucky curved his fingers inside of you, dragging them again and again against your g-spot until you were gasping. The pressure was so intense; you’d never felt anything like it before– not once in all your married years had your ex-husband ever brought you anywhere close to where Bucky had brought you in one night.

You were a kettle, about to boil over; a caldera long overdue for its world-ending eruption. You were ecstasy personified, and he hadn’t even brought you to climax yet.

And then, you exploded, screaming his name so loudly you were worried your neighbors would call the police. 

It was a release unlike any you had ever felt before– a double shot of pleasure, and you were positive that, for a moment, you lost consciousness, or at the very least, your soul had temporarily vacated your body. When you came back to yourself, Bucky was leaning over your face, grinning from ear to ear.

“Did you know you were gonna do that, doll?” he asked as he bent down to kiss you. You could taste the tang of your arousal on his tongue, along with something else, undefinable and unique.

“D-do w-what?” you asked, your own voice sounding shaky and far away. Your whole body was trembling, the aftershocks of the orgasm pulsating through you. 

Bucky lied down next to you, pulling your naked, sweat-slicked body into his, and wrapping his arms around you. “You squirted all over my face, doll! It was the fucking hottest thing I’ve ever seen!”

You laughed through chattering teeth. “I’ve… ne-never d-d-done that be-before,” you said. “F-fuck.”

“I’ll say.” Bucky nuzzled his nose into your hair. “Are you okay? Do you need me to get you something? A glass of water? A blanket?”

You shook your head. “Ju-just ne-ne-need a mi-mi-minute to c-come b-b-back int-t-to my b-b-b-body,” you said. “H-h-hold m-me? P-p-p-please?”

“Yeah, of course, doll,” he said, pulling you closer into him. He reached up and pulled a throw blanket off of the arm of your couch, wrapping it snuggly around you both, and you felt yourself relax into the warmth of him.

“Y-you d-d-didn’t c-c-cum,” you said, feeling the trembling decrease, but not ready to stop all together. “I’m s-sorry.”

“Don’t worry about me, sweetheart,” Bucky said, kissing your head. “Watching you come undone like that? I fucking came in my pants like a goddamn teenager. It was unbelievable.” His tone turned serious. “Did you like it? Was it okay?”

Using all the energy you had left in your body, you turned to face him, noticing the concerned look in his eye in the candlelight. “Th-that w-w-was the s-single b-b-best org-a-asm of m-my entire f-f-fucking life.” You kissed him again, desperately clinging to his forearm to ground you. “Th-th-thank you.”

Bucky smiled. “If you don’t mind, then,” he said, burying his face into your shoulder, “I’d like to give you a couple more before morning, if that’s okay with you?”

“Sh-sh-shit,” you laughed. “Y-y-yes p-please.”

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[fob4ever]

i was at a bookstore yesterday that had a copy of the kerrang: living loud book that featured the FOB watergun fight article i've never seen transcribed anywhere so i made a transcript of it for archival purposes. enjoy! from kerrang, may 2005.

For a man staring down the barrel of a loaded gun while wearing just underpants, Fall Out Boy bassist Peter Wentz looks remarkably chipper. Especially when you consider the person about to unload in his face is guitarist and vocalist Patrick Stump, grinning madly despite the fact that fellow six-stringer Joe Trohman has a pistol to his temple. He in turn is firmly in the firing line of drummer Andy Hurley, cackling loudly with his finger hovering over the trigger.

Passers-by stop and stare, waiting for the inevitable, messy climax of this "Reservoir Dogs" scenario. The tension mounts, onlookers brace themselves, the band get ready to open fire. Suddenly it happens.

"Argh!" screams Wentz as several litres of icy water soak him. "That's fucking cold!"

No, Fall Out Boy aren't about to blow each other away, They're having a water fight for K!'s benefit in a car park at the Chicago stop on travelling punk circus Warped Tour, where they're knocking out their "softcore" wares ("We're basically a hardcore band that couldn't cut it as a hardcore band," laughs Wentz) on the main stage alongside big hitters like The Offspring, Avenged Sevenfold and My Chemical Romance. The Windy City is more than just another stop for them; Chicago is Fall Out Boy's hometown, the place where they formed out of the ashes of their old hardcore bands, and where they still live with their parents- who are here for today's show - during the few weeks of the year they're not on tour.

It all started for Fall Out Boy here in 2001 when the members wanted a break from playing in their various bands. Long time friends Wentz and Hurley got together with hardcore associate Joe Trohman to do something a bit less heavy. Following a conversation about avant-metallers Neurosis in a bookstore, Trohman introduced Stump to the rest of the band. When their other bands folded, they took on Fall Out Boy full time.

"We wanted to do things before we were ready," chuckles Peter Wentz fondly of the early days of DIY tours for the benefit of the one or two people who would show up. "We'd plan two-week tours, just to see the world. Nobody would book us, so we had to do it all on our own."

"A lot of bands have scenes to go into and surround themselves with those people," says Stump. "We had no scene, so we would just play anywhere, with whoever."

FOB have come a long way from their humble roots. Right now they're America's fastest rising band. Radio smash 'Sugar, We're Goin' Down' has placed them squarely in the mainstream, having spent three weeks as the Number One song on MTV's 'TRL', a prime-time show usually devoted to pop acts like Maroon 5 and Ashlee Simpson. So dizzying their Stateside assent has been, they had to cancel their recent European tour in order to play the MTV Music Video Awards, where they are also nominated for 'Sugar...'. Thankfully, FOB haven't let the screaming adoration turn them into big-headed twats.

"A piece of shit with legs on it could walk onto 'TRL' and people would still go crazy," laughs Wentz. "That stuff just goes straight by me. With the fast turnover in the music industry, how can anyone have an ego"

Andy Hurley chips in. "You can be today's main stage and tomorrow's trash."

That's to find out tomorrow, though. Today among the madness of trying to plan anything on the Warped Tour - stage times are decided daily by lottery - Fall Out Boy have to try and find time for hanging out with family and friends.

"Three weeks on Warped is like three months on a normal tour," says Peter Wentz.

"Home becomes like Atlantis on tour, you wonder if it actually exists after a while," adds Patrick Stump.

Now FOB are big stars, a lot of old 'friends' have been coming out of the woodwork. Joe Trohman and Peter Wentz have polarised views on those who didn't give a toss back in the day suddenly becoming your pal once you've made it.

"The way I look at it is if someone's a dick to you and you don't know them, so what?" says Trohman. "Just care about who did support you, keep those important people close, not the people who five years ago called you a loser."

"I work the opposite way!" Wentz counters, before adding darkly, "The people I think about most are enemies. My brain works on revenge!"

Though a tight knit group of close friends, Peter Wentz is clearly Fall Out Boy's spokesman. He does most of the talking during the interview and writes the lyrics, and seems like the most driven one of the lot. As well as doing Fall Out Boy, Wentz has also written a book with tattoo artist Joe Tesaure, 'The Boy With The Thorn In His Side'. It's a dark, twisted tale that could have come straight from the brain of Tim Burton.

"I've always been into Roahl Dahl and people like that, and I was friends with a tattoo artist at the time and we came up with this idea to do a book together," he explains. "It wasn't something I felt fitted in with what Fall Out Boy is, I hate when bands do something that's not 'them'. The book is what it is, and Fall Out Boy is what we are."

Despite all thise talk of nightmares and revenge, FOB are upbeat individuals, enjoying their newfound success, while refusing to allow success to go to their heads. They'll tell you they don't like the shallowness of groupies or industry parties, and that the trappings of rock stardom hold no appeal.

"I don't feel like I deserve it," says Wentz in closing. "It's not like, 'this amount of time and this amount of shows = this kind of bus'. I appreciate what we've got. We've toured in a tiny van and it was cool, but now we're having new adventures living like this. I don't feel we deserve it more than any other bands do."

He surveys the sumptuosly appointed tour bus for a moment before chuckling heartily.

"Actually, that's a lie, we totally deserve it more than anyone else! Ha ha!"

[mrs-barnes-rogers-writes]

Angel - Part 2

Marvel AU

Pairing: Alpha Steve Rogers x Enhanced Omega Reader x Alpha Bucky Barnes

Theme: A/B/O / True Mates

Summary: It's different when you're enhanced. Everything is different, every smell, every sound, touch, feelings. The way it's different doesn't make sense unless you are enhanced. Throw in what comes with Alpha and Omega instincts, and the intensity of your presentation is even more than any other. When you find yourself in need of help you can call on the alpha you trust the most, Natasha Romanoff. You just don't expect to find your alphas at the same time. Are you really enough for them? And can you really be the Luna to the Avengers?

"To be loved, to be loved by your mate is everything." - Wanda Maximoff

Reader is enhanced, has wings and has powers connected to electricity.

Chapter Summary: Clint and Nat discover what's happened to you.

Chapter Warning: Mentions of sexual assault and attempted rape.

Clint’s the first to find you.

You’re sitting in the ditch your knees to your chest, head down and your wings wrapped around you.

“I have her, slow approach.”

He slowly knelt down in front of you, keeping a two metre distance. He had never seen your wings so dark, as black as they were now. You’d told him early on in your friendship that they changed colour with your moods. The darker, the worse the mood. He’d only seen them pure white a couple of times and it was always around his kids or laughing with Nat and Laura on the porch at the farm. But right now, they were as dark as night, like Lucifer himself had given them to you.

“Y/N? Sweetie it’s me. It’s Clint. Can you let me see you?”

Your wings dipped ever so slightly and your tear filled eyes looked back at him. It didn’t take a detective to figure out what had happened. Even his beta nose could pick up the stink of the alpha on you and he knew that scent. If he didn’t kill the alpha responsible, Romanoff definitely would. Clint knew what he had to ask you and he hated having to ask, knowing he really already knew the answer, but protocol was protocol and he knew at least a dozen agents that practically worshipped you and would bring in the piece of shit, to save him and Romanoff the trouble. They’d get you settled and then have him delivered to them. Wanda would want in on this and he was sure Wade owed you a favour. Yeah that would do it but now he needs you out of this ditch.

“Y/N? Do you require a female senior officer for debrief?”

You nodded weakly in reply.

Purposeful footsteps made themselves known and you saw Natasha’s silhouette appear from the darkness, the sparse street lights being all to light the ditch.

“Angel?”

The smell and look in your eyes hit Natasha like a freight train and she knew right then she was putting some red in her ledger. She tried her best to keep the growl muffled in her chest as she pulled out a pair of medical gloves from her pocket, as Clint mimicked her actions.

“Bruce call Hill, direct line, tell her we need her on a video call immediately. AR and SA suspected. Debrief required.” Clint requested over comms as he and Natasha slowly reached out to you, their hands outstretched. You placed a hand in one each of theirs and they slowly lifted you up, both noticing how your face contorted with pain.

“We’ve got you.” spoke Clint softly as he slipped an arm around your waist, “this OK?”

You let out a shuddered breath and nodded. Nat mimicked Clint’s actions, pushing down her inner alpha’s rage. Both supported you keeping the smallest of gaps between you so not to contaminate your suit too much and damage the evidence you were covered in.

The light breeze generated from F.R.I.D.A.Y bringing around the jet blew your hair back and Clint got a clearer view of your face, and could see a clear the mark where you’d been struck. Bruce appeared on the already lowered ramp and you noticed he was also wearing gloves and a disposable apron.

“Hills online and everything is set up.”

As you entered the jet you became aware of what Bruce meant and saw a projection of a live video call from Deputy Director Hill, a stern look on her face. A plastic sheet was laid in front of the screen, and on it laid a clear bag, swabs, scissors and nail clippers. You stepped on the sheet and Hill pushed down a growl, trying to hide it as a clearing of her throat as she saw the state you were in.

“Agent, please confirm your identity.”

You signed back.

AFH 27, code name Angel

“I’m going to need verbal communication if possible Agent.”

You gesture at your throat, getting frustrated when you realised you weren’t being clear.

“I don’t think she can.” Bruce replied for you, noticing the bruising making its way up your neck. He placed a tablet in front of you, the internal state of your vocal calls displayed.

There was a muttered Jesus Christ from Hill.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y give her a full body scan for injuries, fluids and any other evidence.”

“Agent, tell me what happened.”

TAGLIST

@hnnhbananananana

[gunsandspaceships]

MCU Timeline: Captain America: The First Avenger

March 10, 1917 - James Buchanan Barnes is born.

August 15, 1917 - Howard Anthony Stark is born.

July 4, 1918 - Steven Grant Rogers is born.

April 9, 1919 - Margaret "Peggy" Carter is born.

Why 1919 (deleted scene from The Avengers) and not 1921 (Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.), as stated in Wikipedia: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. is not canon for the MCU (events of the show take place in another universe, where Peggy was born in a different year and had a different background).

1934-1936 - young Peggy serves as a nurse in the British Air Force.

1936-1940 - Peggy serves in the Special Air Service.

1940:

Peggy joins the Strategic Scientific Reserve.

Howard founds Stark Industries and becomes its CEO.

May 1941 - Steven Rogers attends a Dodgers vs The Phillies baseball game at Ebbets Field, Brooklyn.

March 1942 - Red Skull invades Norway and extracts the Tesseract.

1942/1943 - The Allies receive a gift from Wakanda: Vibranium. It is given to the SSR's Head Engineer - Howard Stark.

1943:

June 14:

13:50 - Steve gets his last 4F.

And his last beating in the alley a couple of hours later.

Evening - he and Bucky go to the "World Exposition of Tomorrow", where Howard demonstrates his (almost) flying car. Steve meets Dr. Erskine and gets a (falsified) 1A.

June 15:

Sergeant James Barnes heads to Europe with the 107th Infantry Regiment.

Candidate Rogers begins his trial week for Project Rebirth at Camp Lehigh in NJ.

June 21 - Dr. Erskine makes his choice and informs Rogers. They talk about it, about the serum and HYDRA.

June 22, morning - Steve becomes a super soldier. Erskine is killed. The last vial of serum is destroyed.

June 23:

Rogers is offered a position in the USO theater (to help sell war bonds) and receives a (fake) rank of captain.

Night - SSR (including Peggy and Howard) is being retasked to fight HYDRA and goes to London, UK.

July-October - Captain America's US tour (over 200 performances).

November 3rd:

Captain America show in Italy.

Night - Steve goes behind the lines to a HYDRA camp in Austria to rescue Bucky with the help of Peggy and Howard.

November 5th - he returns with 400 (CATFA) or 163 (CATWS) liberated soldiers.

A couple of days later - SSR in London. Based on the locations of HYDRA bases remembered by Rogers, they develop a plan to combat HYDRA. Steve puts together a team.

Marvel Studios' mistake: the medals and badges Steve wears don't make any sense at this particular moment. He simply had neither the time nor the opportunity to earn the Combat Infantry Badge, or the Presidential Unit Citation Badge, nor could he receive the American Defense Service Medal.

Next day, 8 am- Steve meets with Howard and receives his vibranium shield.

1944:

November 1943 - November 1944 - Howling Commandos destroy HYDRA weapons factories.

December 1944 - January 1945 - attack on the train with Dr. Zola. Bucky falls from the train from a great height and is declared killed in action. Zola is captured.

1945:

Soon after, early January - the Valkyrie is finished and ready to attack major US cities. SSR receives information about the location of HYDRA's main base in the Alps and heads there.

Next day - SSR attacks HYDRA's main base. Red Skull teleports to Vormir. The Tesseract is lost in the Arctic Ocean. Crash of the Valkyrie. Steve goes into suspended animation.

After January 1945 - Howard Stark leads expeditions to find Rogers. He finds the Tesseract, but not Captain.

March 23, 1945 - Case №17 is opened. James Barnes "joined" the HYDRA branch in the USSR.

May 8, 1945 - VE-Day.

Spring-Summer 1945 - Howard is involved in the Manhattan Project.

1946:

December 1945/January 1946 - Peggy is assigned to the SSR office in New York.

March 1946 - events of "Agent Carter" one-shot.

2012:

Early 2012 - 67 years later, Steve Rogers is found frozen but alive.

April 2012 - Rogers wakes up in the S.H.I.E.L.D. recovery room in New York City.

Iron Man (2008) Timeline

The Incredible Hulk (2008) Timeline

Iron Man 2 (2010) Timeline

Thor (2011) Timeline

The Avengers (2012) Timeline