#finally reading through nat's comics

[bisupergirl]

kara 🤝 nat being 3 apples tall

[sytoran]

home is where the heart is ★ n.r

— 𝐓𝐖𝐎 ;; 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐅𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒 & 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇

in which your married life with natasha romanoff is depicted through this comedy-drama series. with your dream job, three kids, and a plethora of friends, each day is blissful but all the more chaotic and unpredictable. (and ultimately, very horny.)

pairing ★ sub!wife!natasha x beefy!butch!reader

chapter summary ★ twitter's sole purpose is for you to thirst over your wife, the beach is a good place to spend time with your kids, and ogle at your wife in a bathing suit, but not a great a place to have sex. (lesson learnt).

warnings ★ (MINORS DNI) - explicit content, hard stuff: beach sex, doggy style, cunnilingus, daddy kink, SO MUCH thirsting

word count ★ 4.0k (get fed gremlins)

SERIES MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST

*****

In tandem with Tony Stark’s spontaneity, Steve Rogers’ unending enthusiasm, and the fact that you privately owned close to twenty beach resorts in New York alone, the lot of you and your other friends had a beach outing planned for that Sunday.

After the astronomically long time it took to get your kids dressed, beach toys packed, picnic dinner prepared, and everything loaded into the car, five happy L/N-Romanoffs finally kickstart their journey to the Westview Surfers’ Beach.

“SAND!” Emilia roars maniacally, once the five of you step foot onto the sandy shore. She’s gone like the ocean breeze, sprinting into the distance, grains of sand flying everywhere.

“Sea! Sea! Sea!” Emilio is equally as excited, already by the tide of the brilliantly blue ocean, following its ebb and flow with scampering feet and delighted cries. 

“Careful, Emilio!” Marina says, holding his hand, preventing her over excited brother from falling over. You can see the way she laughs along, kicking up water with her slippers.

Behind your eager children, you swing you and Natasha’s interlocked hands as you casually stroll along the beach, giving her a sweet smile. 

The sand that crunched beneath your feet was earthen and dry, such a gentle hue of gold, almost as grounding as the bright smile your wife returned.

“You look heavenly,” you murmur, bringing up the underside of your wife’s palm to press a gentle kiss to it. She flushes prettily, the sundress she’s adorning doing wonders to her skin tone and curves.

Natasha returns the softness, pressing into your side as you wrap a firm arm around her waist, hand cupping the curve of her motherly hips.

“Oy, lovebirds!”

At the sound of a distinctly familiar voice, you and Natasha spin around with bemused looks. From a distance, you can see Tony with a flamingo floatie around his hips, waving comically.

Next to him, the regular gang is sprawled across three separate picnic mats, conveniently hidden from the sun under several large beach umbrellas. 

Pepper is fixing up Tony’s floatie, to which Carol and Valkyrie snicker at from afar. Thor is asleep on the mats, taking up more than half the area. Laura is busy reading, with Clint probably gone to find seashells for the sandcastle Bucky and Steve are constructing. The kids make a long human chain from the shore to the sandcastle, scooping up buckets of water to make a trench.

“Aunty Y/N! Aunty Nat!” Nathaniel squeals, dropping his bucket, running over and leaping into your arms.

“What’s up, you little rascal?” you ask, laughing as the youngest Barton giggles. Natasha ruffles his head, waving at Lila. 

Morgan, being the same age as Emilia and Emilio, is already chatting excitedly with them and kicking up a loud racket. Marina joins Cooper in attaining bucketfuls of seawater.

“What’s up, my favourite lesbians?” Tony calls out to you and Natasha with outstretched arms, comically ignorant to the death-glare Valkyrie shoots him. 

Natasha rolls her eyes in faux annoyance, strolling past him and brightening up animatedly to chat with the ladies. You pat Tony’s back sympathetically. 

Your attention flits to an impressively large sandcastle with a sculpture of a mermaid on top, hand-crafted by Steve and Bucky. Leaning closer to Tony, you whisper, “Why does the mermaid kinda look like you?”

Leaving him to splutter at his intentionally uncanny resemblance to the mermaid, with a seashell bra and an elegant tail, you look up to see Clint coming back with his arms full of seashells. 

“Hi, Y/N!” He greets distractedly. In the midst of his frantic haste, Clint’s foot gets caught on a stray rock —

And the rest is a scene out of a comedy movie. 

The seashells go flying out of his arms, scattering onto the picnic mat and spraying sand everywhere, Clint loses his balance and flies forward, outstretched arms knock into the sandcastle, and everyone watches in horror as Steve and Bucky’s great unfinished symphony comes crumbling down, leaving only the head of Tony’s mermaid untouched.

A quiet hush falls. 

Bucky and Steve’s faces are morphed into disbelief and heartbreak, and Clint trembles in fear with sand in his mouth. Tony shudders at his beheaded mermaid, the ladies have their hands over their mouths, and Natasha fights battles in order not to burst out laughing. Thor sleeps unperturbed, and even the kids' racket has died down.

“Well,” you announce, breaking the stunned silence. “Who wants to go surfing?”

*****

As Natasha lazes in a beach chair, away from the gory scene of Steve and Bucky dunking Clint in the seawater, she watches you with a budding fire in her belly. 

Standing on the sand so casually, you have your hefty surfboard tucked under one arm, and Emilio in your other. You’re speaking to him with a roguish grin, unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt flapping in the wind, tinted sunglasses pushed up to muss up your perfectly tousled hair. 

“You ready to ride the waves, bub?” 

“Yeah! I’m ready!”

Your wife swallows, thinking she was ready to ride something else.

Natasha crosses her legs unsubtly. It was honestly unfair, how indifferently attractive you were, like it was a state of being instead of a practised art. 

Perhaps it was her love for you and the longevity of your marriage that warped her perception of sexiness, but when you were casually strolling on the beach with that chiselled abdomen on display, who was she to be blamed?

“Y/N!” Natasha calls, sitting up slightly. There’s a devious little idea blooming in the back of her mind, and she feels like taking the bait, just for today.

You look up at your wife’s beckoning, and smile widely at her. Setting Emilio down gingerly and calling him a “little rascal”, you jog over to Natasha easily. 

When you flick your hair back, it glints in the sunlight, and so does the sheen of sweat under your sports bra, defining the cutting edges of your abdomen. Natasha has the criminal urge to rip off your swimming trunks there and then.

Despite your obliviousness, Natasha is more than well-aware of the stares you’re getting from young women and married women alike, momentarily disregarding their boyfriends and husbands to gawk at you.

“Damn, look at that fine specimen!”

“Ryan, why don’t you work out more?”

“There goes my heterosexuality.”

You get feasted upon hungry eyes like a slab of beef, likened to your beefiness, but it only makes Natasha’s possessiveness skyrocket.

“Hey, honey,” you say, settling on a low and inviting tone that has your wife blushing. You crouch down next to her beach chair, holding her hand in a sweet gesture. “What’s up?” 

You’re close to her, so close, and she can feel the heat radiating off you, and your distinct scent, and the overwhelming senses of want and need are washing over Natasha like those tidal waves in the ocean.

But well, Natasha knew more than a few ways to rile you up too.

“I think I want to go surfing too,” she lies through her teeth, having no inclination to partake in the sport. Natasha fakes a pout all too well, knowing it’s one of your many weaknesses. “But the sun’s really hot out there, so I need some help with the sunscreen.” 

It wasn’t like she’d have needed it, anyway. Just like that and you’re sold, ever the gentleman and the golden retriever, digging for the sunscreen in the duffel bag.

“Of course, honey,” you reply readily. “Is it the Banana Boat sunscreen, or is that the kids’ one? Oh wait, we have the SPF 50 one, I think that’s—”

Words trail off comically when you look back up at Natasha, gradually dying down completely.

Your wife has conveniently slid off her outer layer of a sheer white blouse, leaving her in just a matching two-piece set of an azure bathing suit. The top piece is held together with thin pieces of string, accentuating her chest in a tight cradle. The lack of coverage shows off the dip of her hips and her soft curves.

Coherent thoughts in your mindwires get severed as Natasha plays with the string on her bottom piece, nearly flashing you as the material slides down ever so slightly. Your throat dries up as her fingers trail a path over her tummy and cleavage. She plays with another bundle of string that keeps her chest barely covered, and the irresistible urge rises within you to undo it.

“My eyes are up here, y’know,” Natasha murmurs, laying on her side and looking at you through lowered lashes.

“I know where they are,” you answer hoarsely, gaze still fixated on your wife’s enticing cleavage.

The sheer amount of bare skin that Natasha is showing off has your remaining fragments of sanity falling to pieces. There’s no point even trying to hide the tent in your pants, poking uncomfortably against the fabric.

“Gonna help me lather sunscreen?” Natasha asks with a silky lilt to her voice, turning over on the beach chair. 

You groan out loud when you see the curve of your wife’s ass on display, her rounded bottom barely covered by a few measly pieces of material, all held together by flimsy strings and nothing else.

“Mhm,” you respond brainlessly, uncapping the bottle and rubbing your hands with a bountiful amount of the moisture, clearly in excess.

You begin applying your wife’s sunscreen with overzealous eagerness and desire. Large hands spread unnecessarily widely as you gain coverage over the soft skin of her back, trailing up and down and smearing the white moisture over her soft skin.

“Oh, that feels nice,” Natasha says airily, a dainty little sound that causes your cock to twitch in your shorts. 

The line down the middle of Natasha’s back is emphasised as she tenses and relaxes it. Like clockwork, you begin massaging your wife’s back to release the tension in her muscles.

“Y/N…” The breathy moan she lets out is pure heaven, dragged out from the depths of her throat, then lifting to a higher tone that washes over you in a sea of goosebumps.

Of course, your faux masseuse skillset is just a simple ploy to grope and knead at Natasha. Fat spills through your fingers as you spread your hands across her torso, as Natasha whines softly.

It wouldn’t take a genius to realise that the heat building between the two of you was not just due to the heatwaves under the beating, unforgiving sun.

Your frighteningly quickly-growing arousal only heightens when Natasha feels that her back is done and flips over. Face-to-face with her hefty mounds, a round belly, and the blown pupils of viridescent eyes — you lose the plot completely. 

Deft hands fly to your wife’s ample assets, squeezing her hips in sinful amounts and staking your claim. “You’re so pretty, baby,” you mumble, face buried into the crook of her neck, subtly mouthing at her neck.

“Mhm,” Natasha whines in agreement, but it turns into a gasp as your fingers slip underneath the material of her bra, plucking at hardened nipples in merciless haste.

You press down onto her, flat tongue and sharp teeth, licking a broad stripe up your wife’s exposed collarbone to the tender column of her neck.

Before you can taint clear skin with raging-purple bruises, you’re pulled away with a firm grip on the back of your neck. You look back up to see Natasha gazing at you sternly. 

“Let’s try not to perpetuate public sex while you are the owner of this place, with all our friends present, and the kids building sandcastles no less than ten feet away.”

Much to your disgruntlement, these factors weigh in heavily and overpower your body’s built-in “pretty-wife-need-to-worship” mechanic. Now, your shorts fill up a lot more space than need be, your shaft pressing hot and tight against your left leg, clearly visible.

You grumble, hands still clammy with sunblock, the ghost of Natasha’s warmth still interlaced between each of your fingers. “You’re a meanie,” you sulk, lust-driven adrenaline coursing through your veins.

Natasha looks at you with a wicked smile. “And you’re too susceptible, darling. Now, where’s my flask? I plan on staying plenty hydrated before watching you rough it out against the waves.”

Clearly put-off by not being able to fuck your wife in your public beach resort, you flip off a little kid who openly ogles at Natasha’s ass, much to your wife’s horror.

*****

“I’M NOT BUILT FOR THIS!” Tony screams, arms flailing, as he rides a shallow wave. His firmly implanted foot adds too much weight on the front of his neon yellow surfboard, and the over-eager man overturns comically as the current rushes.

You laugh out loud, Hawaiian shirt flapping in the wind, surfing past Tony in a smooth motion. “Stick to the flamingo floatie, little guy!”

Valkyrie barely dodges the splash Tony creates, nearly falling off her own board. “Fuck off, you cunt!” she yells, full-chested and deadly focused on the tide. From a distance in the shallower part of the ocean, a reprimanding “Language!” can be heard.

Natasha’s wading in the shallower waters with Laura, while Thor had opted to sun tan on the beach while watching the kids.

As a large wave approaches, Natasha watches with intent. Upon your wife’s new found attention, you mentally prepare yourself, determined to impress her, and perhaps get revenge for her prior ploy.

You manoeuvre deftly, putting weight on your back foot to stabilise as you approach the wave head-on. Three… two… one. You add even more weight on your back foot as you go around the back turn while gaining speed, garnering energy like a coiled spring.

As the wave reaches its full height, broad and steep, your calves release with impact, propelling up the barrel of the wave like a spring. The surfboard moves in effortless motion, anchored by your back foot, navigated by your right.  

The second you reach the lip of the wave, you find the sweet spot to execute the backside tail slide. You rotate your wide-set shoulders, swiftly switching the pressure to your front foot. 

Your surfboard glides off the surface for a split-second, turning mid-air — there’s a camera-worthy frame of damp hair, stray droplets, and focused eyes.

You slide back down at an oblique angle with purpose and precision, like a scene out of a movie, locking eyes with Natasha as the wave crashes behind you.

“Damn, Y/N!” Carol hoots, looking amazed as you surf back to the rest of the gang.

“That was crazy,” Steve adds, resting belly-down onto the surfboard, strikingly adorable for a hulking man.

“Gotta admit, that was pretty cool,” Tony comments, his head bobbing above the surface of the water and his surfboard nowhere to be found.

You laugh along with them, attempting to explain the technical jargon of how you did it. But as much as you appreciated your friends’ enthusiasm, there was ultimately only one person you sought validation from. 

“Hi,” you say to Natasha with a stupid smile, sitting on your surfboard, having escaped the rest. 

“That was very sexy of you,” your wife wastes no time in stating, as if she wasn’t five millimetres away from flashing you and killing you with her sexiness. 

Natasha is stuck on the image of your damp hair flying into place like a scene out of a superhero movie, unbuttoned shirt flailing up to expose your defined back and abdomen, concentration flashing in your eyes.

“Mhm,” you hum lowly. Fire burns low in your belly as you ogle your wife in her bathing suit, pulling her closer by the underside of her thighs.

In a moment of indiscretion, your left hand slips upwards and undoes the knot on Natasha’s bathing suit, letting the material slip from your fingers.

“Y/N!” Though blocked from view of the others as it was underwater, Natasha lets out a breathy gasp and presses into you. Her cunt, already soaked before, gets even wetter at the intrusion of seawater.

“Can I claim my prize?” you ask heavily, hot pants against your wife’s ear, driving her wild with the way your fingers slip through her folds to encroach on her entrance.

In no time at all, two of your fingers are at Natasha’s cunt, feeling slick even underwater, and you push in—

“Group picture!” Steve yells from a distance, as you and your wife effectively leap apart in the water, the heated moment dissipated into thin air. 

But it lingers, the arousal, swimming in the back of your consciousness as you smile for a group selfie. Bucky’s arm is around you but you thank the heavens for hiding your erection under the water.

You can tell Natasha feels the same, eyes locking on you even after Steve successfully takes the group picture. (After many attempts.)

“I’m gonna go check on the kids,” Natasha finally says, gesturing back as if she was going to walk back to shore. She’s expectant, waiting.

“And I think I’m gonna go check with her!” you add, chuckling awkwardly, beckoning backwards with your thumbs.

“Okay,” Steve says disbelievingly, eyes glimmering with knowing and just a little amusement. Tony is much less subtle in his sniggering, and Clint looks horrified at the prospect of doing it at the beach.

Tony claps you on the back as you walk past. “Use protection,” he whispers, and you fumble out a haphazard response. 

*****

Turns out, you and Natasha don’t even make it to a completely secluded area before you’re half-undressed and panting. 

And maybe that’s half the thrill, hidden in a secluded beach cave, with regular people roaming around just outside. You’re pressed skin-to-skin with each other and tuning out everything else.

You groan as you snap the strings of Natasha’s bathing suit off, finally, finally. Teardrop tits bounce in place, shaking with the impact of how hard you jerk against your wife, unbearably uncomfortable in the constraints of your boxers.

Natasha takes mercy on you, helping you to tug down your Calvin Clein briefs, watching with heady arousal as your shaft slaps against your six-pack, red and raw and leaking.

“Hurry up,” Natasha whines, bending over and clutching at a stray rock, ass in the air as she exposes her leaking cunt to you. 

“Fuck, baby,” you groan, grabbing onto her ass and slapping it just because you can. You sink deep into your wife, warmth and relief enveloping you as you bury yourself inside her.

The first thrust is like heaven, feeling the pulse and push of Natasha’s walls as she accommodates to take your size, stretching to a familiar extent because you’d made a nest in there for yourself. 

The second thrust takes you there, an insurgent amount of slick coating your cock, flooding the path you proceed to pummel into. “Natty,” you whine, groping at her ass and pulling it closer to you, hilt-deep with no signs of stopping.

“Mhm, daddy,” Natasha moans, walls fluttering around you as you pull out, trying to stop your escape. But then you thrust forward, again, warm and full and deep, and your wife wails beneath you.

Natasha lets this velvet sound from her throat, silky and coated in honey as she breathes reinvigorated life into your arousal.

“Fuck,” you growl, rutting your hips with more rigour. Natasha whines, wrists suspended behind her back with one of your hands as you have your way with her.

“Baby I’m gonna come,” you gasp, virility cloaking the way your abdomen presses up against Natasha, left hand encircling her neck to bring your hot mouth up to hers.

You’re hardly embarrassed for how fast you’re barrelling towards climax, as Natasha is in much more of the same position. She’s panting your name, clutching at the rocks with hard sand digging into her feet. Your cock nudges and prods into her sweet spots effortlessly, the result of countless sex experiences.

“M-me too,” she responds breathily, breaking off into a whine as you press heated, open-mouthed kisses along the line of her back, tasting the salt and sweat on your tongue.

Pleasure blossoms in your lower torso, creeping up the base of your shaft and working its way upwards. Hot arousal overflows from its constraints, and your teeth sinks into your bottom lip as you come, quick and hot and messy.

“Oh!” Natasha moans, high-pitched and sensitive, as you pluck at her ruby-hard nipples. It only takes a few more thrusts for her to reach release, dripping down your cock and her thighs.

“Mhm, nhn—” As your wife raises in pitch and volume, you stuff three fingers into her open mouth, giving her something to suck on and remain quiet. You continue with gentle thrusts, feeling thick white liquid flow out the side of Natasha’s ruined cunt.

“Needa taste you,” you suddenly grunt, hips bumping into Natasha’s ass. She babbles her agreement, despite being half-conscious in a state of post-orgasmic pleasure. 

Easily, you lift Natasha and set her down onto the sandy shore of the beach cave, where the tide is low and washes over your feet gently.

It’s a change of pace, a gradual end to your savage ravaging, slow and sensual, where the water meets the sand. You lower yourself between Natasha’s spread thighs, lips slightly parted and dripping with need.

Natasha swallows audibly, right hand twisting into your tousled hair, looking at you through hooded eyes and lowered lashes. 

Words are left unspoken between the two of you, the tension speaking for itself, as you retain eye contact while lowering your mouth onto Natasha’s pulsing cunt.

You take your last breath of the fresh sea salt air and summer breeze before drowning in unbridled desire. As if making out passionately, you eat your wife out, switching between licking and sucking.

Poetry is written between the lines — the lilt of Natasha’s hitched breath, the crease of her thighs where your fingertips drag across, the shallow water that wades over your feet in a cool decrescendo.

Your head dips down once more, warm and wet, and the sun melts into the horizon, glazing golden and liquid orange. 

With your tongue lodged fully inside your wife’s pussy, marking your inability to breathe, and wide hands spread firmly over Natasha’s thighs, the two of you converge in saintly devotion, hushed worship falling from her lips.

“Please, just like that, please, daddy, please.”

Just like that, and the ocean swallows you whole, taking you under Natasha’s hold inescapably. Your name is said in a breathless cry, lilting and pronounced, and you shudder between her clenched thighs.

“Nat?”

“Yeah?”

“I think there’s ocean water up my asshole.”

“Yeah, I got some sand up my vagina too.”

*****

and that's chapter two of 'hiwthi'! how did yall feel about the introduction of the rest of the cast? i personally enjoyed writing the build-up scenes the most. (sunscreen and surfing!) and for those keen on expanding the family dynamic, i'll be building on that in the next chapter!

reblog or i will take 292857192 years to post the next part

SERIES MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST

[burninblood]

guys, I sense a lot of tension about this whole buckynat situation XD ... there is even some hate going on on "X" saying they should have stayed broken and stuff... and, listen, I understand, this kind of reunion wasn't what we was hoping for after all these years (10 years?!?!) and of course we had better scenarios in our mind and we were hoping for more good character work (or any characters work at all!), and we want to hear Nat's version (eheh) and these writers are, let's say, uhm, not so good...

BUT

these are american superhero comics for you in 2024. No greatly written for most part, action focused all the time, little or not at all character development, aiming to reach big sales or them get cancelled, flowing with the MCU synergy and stuff. And I tell you as someone who has read comics her whole life (and I had a loooong life, ok XDDD): bad moments in comics come and go, and poor characters run through a lot of shitty writing, and this happens all the time.

Are Lanzing and Kelly good writers? No. HELL NO.

Do I think Cold War was the worst thing written in the media in the maybe last 5 years? YES with a cherry on top! 100% YES.

Is Thunderbolts a good mini series? ... Well, not really. Better than SOL and CW, but still, we're not quite there yet. It was basically random, with a stretched plot that I can't even recall, and really not a team book since it doesn't focused on any of its characters for real. 'Cause you know, I said it before: no character work, just action action and more action.

Is Bucky written by L&K good? No. He isn't. But to be honest he wasn't good in a lot of other comics too, sadly. He has been worse, he has been better. He will improve at some point, that's the cycle.

All this said, am I happy they brought buckynat back? YES. I AM SUPER HAPPY 'cause it opens for possibility!!!

If they gain some more audience as a couple there are more opportunities for them to get more exposure, to be feautured into other comics (in the current cap run written by Straczynski for example?) more and better content, not only together but on their own too! I think them both didn't have a good comic since... 2018??? Nat even earlier probalby, but it's important they somehow stay relevant in the stories 'cause this is how this whole circus works (sad): the characters who sell better get more stories, more comics, better comics from better writers (... hopefully!)! It's bad, but that's the comic market guys.

Idk, it just feels so sad to me that we have waited for so long for buckynat reunion and when it happened finally it left us with just a bittersweet aftertaste... I think this is inevitable 'cause we had so many hopes and we pushed it bigger than life into our heads, and this is reality XD...But realistically speaking, I was never expecting their reunion to be that different from what we got in the end.

It's good to be disappointed, it's right, but let's turn this into a good occasion then, let's try to stay positive and maybe try to exorcise the bad in it by taking a creative angle on the matter: let's write meta about Natasha's pov, let's write fics, let's do edits, fanarts, let's discuss it. But wishing it never happened and dragging them badly...

I know we all feel like they deserved better, and I agree, but let's consider this just THE BEGINNING. It's a starting point and we should keep our fingers crossed for something good to come!

Let's not give up!!!

I'm sorry if this is so long and a whole lot of useless blablabla bhubhubhu, but some of the stuff I'm reading around is starting to be really depressing and a bit too negative considergin the whole situation, and it's a shame 'cause I feel like we should be at least a tiny bit happier here around <3 :D

Let me know what you think of all this mess (or not, lmao) if you want! <3

[marvelseries19]

DOUBLE TROUBLE

Pairing: Kate Bishop x shapeshifter!reader

Genre: Fluff/suggestive

Summary: (Request) I was picturing a fic where Kate and Reader are newly dating, and Kate has a lot of questions about Reader's ability to shapeshift into other people. What really gets Kate curious is how well Reader would be able to mimic her look. Would that sound like a good start? For the 18+ part let me know what you're comfortable with too, but I was thinking that Kate starts to embarassingly get turned on once Reader copies her form? And from there, Reader suggests that the too fool around so Kate can feel what it's like

A/N: Okay, so this was a bit out of what I'm used to, but I'm happy with the result. However, I'm not sure about writing smut yet so, that's why I stopped at that ending. I remind you that this is a mature content blog, so be aware of the warnings. Also, if this is something you're not into, just skip it. READ THE WARNINGS.

Warnings: + 18, Suggestive. Kate being turned on by her own image I guess.

Word count: 0.9k+

[You do not have permission to repost or translate any of my stories or claim them as yours]

As has been usual for you the last few months of dating Kate, you find yourself spending the afternoon with her at her apartment. It is a quiet evening, and the sun casts its golden glow through her windows. The room is bathed in warm light, which adds to the warm and cozy environment you feel whenever you spend time with your girlfriend. You love this type of improvised plan with the archer, where you just sit together doing your own thing while enjoying the time cuddled up together.

The sound of her soft breathing and occasional laughter fills the room as she glides through a comic while you are just watching videos on your phone. After a while, Kate glances up from her comic book to look at you with a mixture of nervousness and excitement. You can always feel her eyes on you, so you return her look with a content smile. "Hey, what's on your mind? You've got that look in your eyes."

The brunette puts down her comic and shifts closer to you. "I don't know what you're talking about," she says, feigning innocence, to which you give her a knowing look, raising an eyebrow. "You know me too well, women." She sighs. "There's something I've just been thinking about that I meant to talk to you about. But, um, it's kind of personal."

You raise your eyebrows, intrigued. "Oh? Now I'm curious, what is it?"

Kate takes a deep breath as she tries to find the right words. "Okay, so you know how you can, uh, shapeshift into different people?"

You narrow your brows, suspicious about what comes next. " Yeah, I mean, that time I pranked you when I looked like Nat was epic," you say with a light laugh, and your girlfriend reciprocates, albeit awkwardly. "So, what about that?"

Your girlfriend rubs the back of her neck awkwardly. "I've been thinking… what if you tried shapeshifting into, well… me?"

You raise an eyebrow, a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty crossing your face. "Shapeshifting into you? That's... an interesting idea," you say slowly, wondering where this conversation is headed. Kate hesitates before responding, her eyes searching yours for a reaction.

"I know that it's kind of weird to ask, but I've been curious about what it would be like… to, um, see myself through your eyes, maybe even… something more."

You pause, processing what she just told you, and then you smile gently at her. "That’s not weird, Kate. Everyone has their own unique fantasies and curiosities. I’d be more than willing to try it if it makes you happy and helps us explore things together.”

Kate releases a relieved sigh and finally feels her muscles relax. "Really? You're okay with that?"

You nod at her while leaning closer to her to give her a peck on the lips. "Absolutely. We're a team, remember? I love that you felt comfortable enough to share that with me. Let's just give it a try and see how it feels."

The young archer feels a surge of affection and excitement at your words. "That Y/n. You're the best." You grin playfully. "So, should I go for it now or later?"

She blushes as she thinks about it. "How about we save that for tonight?"

"Tonight it is baby."

—

Kate is waiting for you, sitting at the edge of the bed, her leg bouncing anxiously. You decide that starting slowly, feature by feature would be better; after all, you don't want to overwhelm her.

You walk close to her from the bathroom. "So, I'm starting with your hair." Your features smoothly shift along with your words. "Then your eyes." The order of features is just the things you like the most about her. You move closer as well as you speak.

The brunette's eyes widen at the sight of you slowly morphing into her and somehow maintaining your very own self. She is speechless, as she sees herself in you.

By the time you complete the shift, you find yourself in between her legs, holding her face between your hands. "So, how do I look?" You also decide that keeping your voice would be best.

"Wow… you look amazing. This is… incredible." She whispers, her voice filled with wonder and awe. "I never imagined this was possible." Your heart swells with pride at her reaction, knowing that you have successfully completed the transformation flawlessly.

You feel a sense of relief that she is pleased with the transformation and grateful that your efforts were not in vain. As you gaze into her eyes, you can see a newfound appreciation and understanding in her expression. "You truly are an artist," she says, her eyes shamelessly checking you out as she wraps her arms around your waist, slowly pulling you closer to her, ending with you straddling her lap.

"I'm glad you like it." You move your hand to caress the back of her neck. "Should we see where this goes?" You whisper next to her ear, making goosebumps rise on her skin as she nods in agreement, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. The air between you crackles with anticipation as you lean in for a kiss, knowing that this moment could be the start of something incredible.

The intensity of the moment is palpable as you both lean in, closing the distance between your lips. As your kiss deepens, you feel a rush of excitement and possibility flood through you, igniting a spark that promises an unforgettable journey ahead.

It's fair to say that you indeed saw and felt where things were going.

[liyawritesss]

ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴍʏ ᴏɴʟʏ ɪɴᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ

Pairing: MCU!Riri Williams x Black!Masc!Reader

Genre: Fic

Synopsis: Riri brings you home to meet her mom for Thanksgiving, and you have a heart-to-heart about your intentions with her daughter.

Warnings: BLACK PANTHER: WAKANDA FOREVER SPOILER READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!, homophobia if you squint, the 'relationships' talk is briefly mentioned in regards to Riri

A/N: I have so many feelings for Riri. Comic book and MCU versions. This fic has a mix of both, I tried my best to mesh them both together smoothly. Riri is a character I already feel is gonna be close to home for me, and I can't wait to see more of Dominique Thorne's portrayal of her.

Tags: @verachii @inmyheadimobsessed @badass-dora-milaje @babyboiboyega

There’s no reason why Riri should be the one nervous, you think, as you pull up into the driveway of her home. If anything, you should be the one sweating bullets in the passenger seat. And yet, the irony in such a situation is almost uncanny.

The two of you pull up to three-bedroom bungalow, common in the South Shore neighborhood of Chicago, decorated festively for the holidays. Riri caught you off guard when she asked if you wanted to spend the holidays with her mom and her. Mainly because, well, you had never met her mom before. Normally you’d meet the parents before such a milestone, but Riri had been putting it off due to her own anxiety. Having been together since January, though, she came to the conclusion that it’s finally time to come clean about this part of her life.

“Baby,” you call out to her, providing a comforting hand on her knee clothed with her favorite pair of blue jeans, “it’s gonna be okay. Shit, you’re more nervous than I am.”

“I’m sorry-” she begins, leaning back into the tan-colored leather fabric of the car seat. “It’s just- this is my moms, and I haven’t brung anyone around since Nat, and-”

Natalie, the one friend Riri did have in her youth, who met an untimely death from a drive by shooting. You’ve heard this testimony a few times - Riri doesn’t like to talk about it much, but when she does, it’s always in a very serious moment.

“Riri, I get it. It’s okay,” you respond softly, giving her knee a squeeze. She looks at you with her bright, lively eyes. The same eyes that caught your attention back at that New Years Eve party where you first met. Riri had always been an introvert, but if it was something she couldn’t verbalize, her eyes could tell it all. And right now, they’re pleading for this evening to go well.

“You know you still have time to chicken out-”

“Don’t even try it, Ri,”

This exchange brings a short laugh from the young and gifted engineer, as she watches you gather your phone and keys and exit the car. In a short moment, you’re at her side, opening the car door for Riri to step out. Her pink cashmere sweater does little to nothing to protect her from the November chill that has set itself into the air. Once the car is locked up, Riri’s feet, the only thing kept warm on her body thanks to the black ankle cut Ugg boots she had on, makes a beeline for the side door that leads into the humble abode. You follow shortly after, the wind starting to break through your clothes as well.

“Ma, I’m home!��� Riri calls out from the doorway, and immediately the smell of soul food consumes both of you. The smells are distinctive - freshly baked mac-n-cheese that just got pulled from the oven, the greens simmering on low heat on the stove ready for plating, amongst other staple foods of a black household. The lighting is warm and inviting, and there’s some old school blues being played on a speaker coming from the kitchen. If this isn’t what home feels like, you don’t know what does.

Riri gestures to you to follow her as her mother responds from the kitchen. Riri’s mother turns from the stove to embrace her daughter, and is slightly caught off guard by the other presence in the home.

“You didn’t tell me you were bringing someone else over, baby,” the older woman says as she releases Riri from a signature mama-bear hug. She smiles warmly at you, to which you shoot one back. There’s an uneasy pit in your stomach caused by the anxiety of such a moment, but in an effort to make a good first impression, you ignore it and make the first move.

“It’s nice to meet you, ma’am,” You begin, extending your hand out to greet the older woman. She takes your hand into her own, and the softness of her skin spreads a calming warmth throughout your arm. "Oh, hun, I ain't no ma'am yet. Call me Ronnie."

“Momma, this is (Y/N),” Riri chimes in, swallowing the lump that’s formed in her throat from the interaction thus far, “my girlfriend.”

What you expect is for the world to freeze, for Riri’s mom to go stiff and ridged with discomfort. You expect her warm demeanor to change in an instant, for her to retract her hand, to give you a curt greeting and not another word. It’s the only experience you’ve ever had when it came to moments like this with previous partners.

And yet, they never come. Instead, Riri’s mother pulls you into a mama-bear hug, officially welcoming you into her home.

“‘Bout time she brought you home, had me wondering if y’all were hitting a bumpy patch,” says the older woman, which has your eyebrows furrowing together in confusion. Riri said she hadn’t mentioned she was dating anyone, let alone a girl, to her mother, so why did it sound like she knew all along?

“Oh, don’t look like that, baby,” says Riri’s mother as she lets you go, catching the look on your face, and the nervous one that Riri sports as she stands off to the side, chewing on her thumb nail like it’s one of the chicken drumsticks that sit pretty in a serving basket on the kitchen island.

“Forgive me,” you begin, sheepishly fumbling with your hands, “I just thought- Riri never said-”

“C’mon now,” the older woman interrupts, “a mother always knows.” And that’s enough for you to drop the subject, but Riri, on the other hand, is staring wide eyed at her mother in disbelief. “Momma?!”

“Oh hush, child,” the older woman replies, “you come back from MIT and suddenly you outside every other weekend. Of course you got yourself a lil’ boo, otherwise you’d be in here every Saturday morning hogging my damn TV!”

“Momma-!”

“Ion wanna hear it,” says Riri’s mother, raising her hand in the air signaling the halt of the conversation, “now take (Y/N) and get the good dishes from the glass case and set the table. Food is just about ready.”

Frankly, you were glad Riri’s mom dismissed you two to table setting duty - you weren’t sure how long you could keep a straight face in front of her. The exchange between the three of you was something you never saw coming, but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t fun, in an odd secondary coming out kind of way.

“I thought you said you never told your mom?” You mumbled to Riri as she’s setting down the china on the placemats you were putting down.

“I didn’t,” she replied, “but that mothers intuition is a bitch.”

You laugh as she continues to mumble on about how she ‘don’t go outside every other weekend’, which both of you know is a lie. The one time Riri did go to a party, it was the New Years Eve party you two met at. You weren’t a student at MIT, but a friend of one, and you were also a Chicago born, and so the two of you just clicked. If it weren’t for your adventurous nature and classic dating etiquette, the young engineer would definitely - like her mother said - be in the house during the weekend hogging the TV. She was an introvert like that, was never one to initiate a conversation nor spark a friendship. Though it never bothered you as much, and you understood how Riri came to be the person she is, and that her standoffish nature came with the territory. Riri said it herself, you were the first person she opened up to fully since the death of her step-father and best friend. You promised yourself that you would do everything in your power to not jeopardize her healing journey, and if clinging to you would aid in Riri going back to her old, energetic self, then you’d gladly do all the reassuring, pay for all your little midnight rendezvous, and everything in between.

You loved Riri, from the girl you caught sight of that fateful night, to the headstrong, confident woman she was becoming.

The dinner portion went swimmingly. Many stories were shared, including Riri coming clean about what happened in Wakanda and why she was gone for so long (there felt like a piece missing, as you could she was visibly struggling when explaining a few parts, but as this was a story previously mentioned to you and that prior she stated that a part of said story she was not able to disclose to anyone, you wouldn’t push further). Her mother was slightly rattled at the story, it being her first time hearing about her daughter getting ‘recruited’ by a foreign nation thanks to her outstanding engineering intelligence, but nonetheless, supportive. It wasn’t every day your daughter gets to be in close proximity of African royalty, after all.

Then came the story of how you two met, which was a simple as the beginning of any regular college romance - the two of you spotted each other across the room at a party, you gathered the courage (with a little help from your homegirls) to approach Riri, and you two clicked from there. You did the pleasure of excluding the bit about a drunken kiss shared under a mistletoe while dancing to the party music, unsure of how Riri’s mother would react to that part. Riri seemed thankful for the exclusion of this fact as well.

With dinner done, you offered to help with the cleanup, and with three bodies moving in synchronicity, what would have taken at least an hour minimum for cleanup was done in twenty minutes. Now, the three of you sit on the couch with the television on some random network with a random show playing. Riri’s mom sports a wine glass with her choice of champagne, while the two of you sported canned sodas. From the way the evening had went, you were all but expecting the one fated question to be asked:

‘What are your intentions with my daughter?’

“Now, (Y/N), you knew this was comin’, so I want you to answer me honestly,” the older woman begins; she’d been nursing her wine for a while now, trying not cause you any unnecessary anxiety (of which, her efforts backfired completely).

“I’m sure Riri has told you the story of her step-dad and her best friend, Natalie - bless their souls,” she takes a sip to this, as if it’s for the aforementioned people, while you adjust your sitting position to face the woman directly. Riri is behind you, her full body weight leaning onto your back, her chin resting on your shoulder, watching her mother interrogate you, fully ready to end the conversation if it becomes too out of hand. It’s almost as if she saw this coming, too, and has prepared her defenses.

“My baby don’t just bring anybody home. And I’ve been hard on her about that, because I know how men are out here. And when she came to me and told me she liked girls, I became even harder, because as a woman, I know we break hearts too, sometimes even worse.”

She takes another sip from her wine glass, and with the way your heart is pumping furiously in your chest, you’re glad that the sound of it isn't audible, otherwise you think it’d shatter the glass in her hand.

“So, I have to ask. What are your intentions with my daughter?”

You took a moment to look at Riri. Your eyes locked. You drew in a breath, and recited your answer.

“Well, I will have you know, Ms. Ronnie,” you begin, addressing the older woman by her name, “Riri came into my life at a time when everyone was leaving me. And her presence has been liberating for me. I’ve asked the universe to take those away from me who aren’t going to help me be a better person- ‘cuz when we met, I was in a dark place. The universe took those bad people away- people who weren’t going to help me excel to my highest being, and…and sent me an angel who taught me more about myself and about love than I could ever imagine learning on my own,”

The weight on your shoulder shifted ever so slightly, but you continued; “I intend on making Riri the happiest girl in the world by any means necessary. I may not have it big right now- I’m working towards making my dream work for me- but when I get my money right, I’m going to repay your daughter for saving me in my darkest moments. If she wants the world, I’ll give her the universe, because she deserves it more than anyone in the world.”

You took a pause for a moment, reaching back for Riri’s hand. Once you’ve taken into your own, interlocking your fingers, you locked eyes with the young engineer, continuing once more; “And once I’ve made her the happiest woman in the world, I plan on making her the happiest wife.”

At this point, you forgot about Riri’s mother sitting to your right on the other end of the couch. In staring into Riri’s dark onyx eyes, you were completely enveloped in her. The Versace perfume you bought for her earlier that week, the warmth of her pink sweater that contrasted against your own clothes. The way she was holding her breathe, the way that her eyes were searching for an ounce of doubt or an inch of a lie in your own.

“Are you serious, (Y/N)?”

“You know I don’t play about you, Ri,”

If it wasn’t for remembering that her mother was in the same room, you would have kissed her. But it was the thought of her mother that caused you to break eye contact with Riri. Even more, the realization that you just spilled your entire life plan to the mother of your lover set in, and suddenly, your body was aflame in what you couldn't tell was either embarrassment or pride. Embarrassment because it’s her mother. Pride because of the amount of love for Riri that you had to be able to say all those things in front of her mother.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” said the older woman, taking a swig from her glass, “You’ve found a keeper, baby.”

At this, Riri wraps her arms around your neck, burying her face into the crook of it, in an attempt to hide the humongous smile that’s plastered on her face. You chuckle a bit at her, a smile of your own making its way to your lips.

“Your daddy would be proud, Ri,” her mother added on, “and he would have loved the shit out of you. I’m sure he’s up there smiling down on us right now.”

Riri peeks from her place in your neck, making eye contact with you once more. The smile on her face makes you melt. You’d do anything to keep that smile there for eternity.

“He would, wouldn’t he,” she whispers, more to herself than to anyone else. You place a kiss on her forehead, and she retreats back into the warmth of your neck.

If you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, and reblog for others to see! And don’t be shy to send in a request!

[unleashthegoats]

Finally listened to your Anakin episode which was great as always. I did make me curious about how much of the written material you read. The comics and Brotherhood novel covers the period between Episode II and Clone Wars (2008) and you can see how Anakin and Obi-Wan’s relationship changes and develops through those.

Thank-you so much! I'm glad you enjoyed it, we actually had a lot of fun with this one, because while the three of us tend to have differing levels of TOLERANCE for Anakin, we actually share a lot of general opinions about him and his place in the narrative, which made for a really great discussion.

The answer to your question is different for each of us.

Nat has read no Star Wars comics or novels of any kind, as our resident casual fan.

Fae has only read like 3 comics, none of which were memorable enough to consider herself an expert on them. She also occasionally goes through wiki pages that include info from comics. She has not read Brotherhood. If you have specific questions about the comics or recommendations, please feel free to let us know!

For myself, I haven't read a single comic and I haven't read that particular novel. I've heard of Brotherhood, I just haven't bothered with it. One of the primary things I've heard about it is how racist it is towards Mace unless you try to be nice and pretend that Anakin was intended to be an unreliable narrator any time he discusses Mace, which... yeah given fandom attitudes towards him (and the Jedi as a whole since Mace often ends up representing the entire Order) I'm a little skeptical about the validity of that interpretation. And even if Anakin IS supposed to be an unreliable narrator, I haven't heard anything to suggest that Anakin's scenes where he calls Mace cold and unfeeling are contradicted by anything else in the novel to help balance it out. So you still just have one of the vanishingly few Black characters getting maligned and slandered in this book for no good reason while Anakin apparently just gets his flaws sanded off and smoothed over. This is the review I read about it by someone whose opinions I tend to trust, for anyone else who hasn't read it and is interested to hear someone else's take on it before trying to read it.

-- Sugar

[paging-possum]

DID YOU KNOW! The superhero comic that I've been meaning to make for two years is FINALLY AVAILABLE through the Shortbox Comics Fair!? Now you do! Like the visual says, it's about two guys, their first date, and a lot of dinosaurs. It's very silly, and if you read it I'll fall deeply and madly in love with you forever <3

You can find it here: https://www.shortboxcomicsfair.com/shop/p/villaintines-by-nat-martinA

[thessalian]

Thess vs TLOVM S3, Ep 8

Hoboy. Not entirely looking forward to this, even if I do know it works out in the end. But to get to it, you have to get through it, so...

Pre-beard Grog. What the--? Wait, is this when they meet Percy?!? I seem to remember that his backstory was that they kind of ran into him while he was in a jail cell.

Yep, they're there without him. ...Wait, which one of the prisoners is the what-now?

I seem to remember that originally (or at least according to the comics, which I think were pretty true to character backstories), they needed to question the cult leader because they needed the skull of a Nightmare to cure Grog of his whole ... being the phylactery of a lich ... thing. But we're doing it as a bounty now? Okay.

Well. That was ... to the point, Vex.

You're going to shake down the prisoner. Who, if he came from money - or at least, accessible money - would have been sprung by now.

Percy, are you lying to them right now? Or are you just ... not being frank about how small that fortune is? I-- Ah. Yeah, Vex would have at least been grudgingly impressed at being used if you'd been less honest, Percival.

Ah, and Vex gets defensive. Which means no, dear; he's not shit at negotiating.

Where the truth takes you iiiiiiis ... a funeral. Woe.

Awwww. Feeling a little bad about butting in on some of their earlier moments, Trinket? ...Ah, who am I kidding; I can't be sarcastic at Trinket when he's so worried about his momma.

Yeah, no, I am not okay. Though Matt Mercer getting voice credit as Trinket amuses the hell out of me. Particularly since the one time we heard Trinket speak words, he was voiced by Cheech Marin.

(Most of you are too young for the above; look up Cheech and Chong, and then you will fully understand why it was so fitting for Cheech Marin to be voicing Trinket as heard by Vex while tripping balls.)

Ooooooh Scanlan, I don't know how you're going to feel about yourself after that. I mean, you couldn't have done anything had you been there, probably? But Percy dying while you weren't there has got to hurt.

Vax ... why is it you only manage to say the right thing to your sister?

Hrm. Vax... Are you going to do something stupid--? Oh. Maybe not?

Okay, Keyleth, how are you going to handle this? Please handle this better than Vex did...

THANK YOU.

Ooooooh, Scanlan. Yeah, that's got to hurt. All that for nothing.

...WHAT THE FUCK.

No. NO, Raven Queen. You don't get to dictate that shit.

Oh, FUCK not you again. GO AWAY, RAISHAN.

.........Oh, holy hell. This is when they find out about who killed their parents.

No, Allura, I prefer Kima's terminology.

Grog finally manages a nat 20 on his INT check. Or possibly WIS check in this case.

Not sure what precise subclass of monks we've got here, but this is some Stormlord shit, and if you've got the Stormlord on side, you're doing well.

They actually bothered to do blood splatter on the camera lens that isn't technically there? With realistic blur and everything?!? DAMN, those animators rule.

I was wondering why it wasn't Vex going to talk to Zahra and Kashaw, since she was the one with the best rapport (albeit of a frenemy type) with Zahra, who's clearly the leader of that particular duo. But Vex is going to face Syldor?!? Ooooooh this is going to be either very good or very painful.

Oooooooooh. Both. Definitely both.

Well, at least a cloaking spell still does some good.

Wait. Pike can read sheet music?

Hello, Syngorn forces! That's a loooooooot of Syngorn forces. HOLY SHIT.

Larkin LIIIIIIIIIVES. ...And I don't trust that far too convenient back entrance.

HE USED THE TITLE, HOLY SHIT.

Echoing what I just said about the Stormlord; NIIIICE. Also, Ike Amadi ... well, given how much my little Dragon Age-loving corner of the internet is panting for Veilguard ... that's Davrin's voice actor, guys. Also Javik. And ... Koth-- This guy is seriously prominent in Bioware's Rolodex.

Heh. It's nice that they more or less remember that for all they never officially agreed on it, Vex was always more or less the leader.

It's a little too quiet... GILMORE NOW IS NOT THE TIME.

This ... this is fishy... I do not trust Raishan worth shit; she worked too hard to get them there.

...Oop. AMBUSH.

Wait. WUT. YES, THANK YOU, KIMA.

RAISHAN WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?!?

Oh. Oh shit. Oh shit DUDES RUN.

YEAH YOU GUYS TOO. SHIT SHIT SHIT.

OH HELL. No, no, Vex, OFF THE GUILT TRAIN.

AAAAAAA NO FUCK OFF WITH YOUR CLIFFHANGER I WILL FEED YOU BEEEEEEEEEES!!!

...Anyway, who wrote this? Meredith Kecskemety. Only writing credit. Pretty new, too. Gotta say, for someone who was mostly executive assistant, casting assistant, and assistant writer on an episode each of The Midnight Gospel and If You Give A Mouse A Cookie? That's a hell of an episode for your first solo writing credit ... and she nailed it.

(I am still going to feed her beeeeeeeeees for that fucking cliffhanger, though.)

So now I have a choice - watch the Omn1 reaction to this episode first, or go straight to the next episode. Proooooobably the former. ...Look, I found out just the other day that Omn1 did reactions to the Michael Flanagan series on Netflix and I got to spend most of today mucking around with Terrascapes and listening to him react very much as I did to The Fall of the House of Usher and he might actually make Midnight Mass something I can watch at least in part without religion-based PTSD flashbacks. Anyway, I find him comforting. As I said, I don't get to watch stuff with people very often; this is the next best thing.

Of course, I kind of want to watch TLOVM S3 in its entirety before Arcane S2, but I've got about two weeks before I need to worry about that, so I won't rush.

[elliequeen777]

Soo, today it came to my mind this dream I had like a year ago. I remember I was reading something about Damian Wayne and the Bat-family, an his character really caught my attention so I did a bit of research and found out that there is not a lot of people who like him. And I get it, he is not precisely original or charismatic and his arcs are very weird. But something that I found very interesting was the fact that every single time he has a very tragic ending, like super dramatic. He's some short of sacrificial lamb, the only way he becomes a "true" hero is by sacrificing himself. Because, for some rason, there is no way he grows up as a happy, semi-stable, sensible person. I remember thinking that was really depressing, is like he is destined to be an unstable, unhappy kid forever.

I also remember comparing his situation with some other characters that had gone through a similar situation than him, like the other robins, Cass, Raven, Terra (the one from the animated series) and even Bucky Barnes (from the comics) and Natasha. One thing led to the other and I started wondering how different could be the life of Damian if he was on the Marvel universe, specially since they are experts on rescuing children from assassin's schools (Natasha and Bucky have done it at least twice each and there is a lot more arcs around it even in the MCU, if you ask me, a little too many times, I really hope we're done with that trope).

And then I fall asleep, I don't remember the whole dream now, but I remember two things clearly: 1) Natasha was in Gotham City and 2) she was friends with Alfred. When I woke up I tried to make sense to all the information and finally I came up with a story.

I had this on the back of my brain since last Christmas and I never came to anything more than just the idea. So I resolved to put this in here and see if someone else is willing to take this idea and make something with it. If not at least I'll get it out of my mind. So please don't judge me too harsh.

Here we go:

Valerie and Franklin Richards have combined their super-abilities to create some sort of spaceship that can jump to every multiverse. Fascinated with their discovery they want to make some sort of map of the multiverse. But soon they realize that only the two of them don't give avast to such a big task. They need explorers that can help them track record of every single universe, and they have to choose them carefully. One of the chosen ones is Natasha Romanoff, who's well known for her clean and discreet work, the spy, willing to take a break of her crazy life, accepts the invitation with enthusiasm. That's how she gets to land in Earth 2, there she meets a young Alfred and their friendship starts (they keep in touch somehow).

Time passes, and at some point Nat finds herself in Gotham city again, for business. She's staying with Alfred who introduces her to Bruce and Damian. At some moment she has a conversation with Bruce where she ends up revealing something about her past in the red room. He is very intrigued by that and starts asking som questions, but she is not very comfortable sharing more information with him, so he tells her about Damian, he's very worried for his kid's future, and doesn't know how to help the kid. She sympathizes with him, but is still reluctant to open about her past and tells him that the best he can do is to love his kid and show him he cares (very basic but helpful advice, I specifically recall this dialogue: "It's great you are trying to help, Bruce, but we are not a club of «reformed trained assassins», we are not precisely happy to find more people like us").

Bruce keeps thinking about that conversation and gets to the conclusion that Damian needs someone like Nat to guide him in his healing journey. So he goes to her and asks her a favor: to please help his son. Natasha is not very sure about getting involved, but after a long conversation with Alfred and Bruce, they decide to let Damian go with Nat to her universe for three days, she will show the kid her life and the life of other "reformed trained assassins".

So that's what happens, Bruce tells Damian he's going to learn new spy skills with a professional and then leaves him in Nat's hands. They travel to the Marvel universe and Damian learns that fate is not written and that he can have whatever life he wants.

And that's it, this is all I came up with. I will really appreciate to know your thoughts about this, so please say something. Anyway thank you for reading this shit. ❤️

[rufferto9]

Old Man Hawkeye

So I read Old Man Hawkeye finally after having it for a year. This came out a couple of years after I started getting into comics again after not having the money to spend on them since 2000. It's been on my shelf taunting me because I know the reason why I didn't want to read it.

There's a death in this series that I didn't want to deal with. Thankfully someone told me about it so when I got to those pages I could just flip through and not read.

The one thing about this whole thing is that I cannot believe that Clint Barton if he knew Bucky was alive somewhere would not go find him. He was Clint's friend more or less and Clint did not have any friends left but Kate.

The art - I mainly wanted to read it for the art, I loved it. Kate - Kate is at her best knock sense into Hawkeye attitude. Seeing Nat's death scene too many times was annoying. Soldier serum that works - Why wouldn't Hawkeye take it? He had nothing to lose and it would have healed him. Hawkeye going blind - At first I thought it was dumb because he's also deaf, why give him two things two deal with? Then the last panel changed my mind. I wanted more suddenly. I wanted twelve issues of that team up at least but Marvel stopped doing the wasteland series. I loved Kate going "was there anyone you didn't sleep with?" Yes, we all know Clint is the MCU Ho. COMICS Ho! I loved his hair. I generally felt this was a what if Story. I did not like them telling Hawkeye they didn't kill him because he wasn't a Hero. Wasn't a Hero? What???? That made zero sense to me. Clint was someone without superpowers running around with people with superheroes and Avenging. That's a hero.

Anyway, I finally read it, it didn't suck, had things I hated and things I liked. I would like to see more Clint and I think I might write a story with Clint taking the super soldier serum at some point. I give it about three stars.

[emmym1]

My thoughts on... Black Widow 2020 (#1-5) "The Ties That Bind"

So after finishing the incredible 50 issue run of Captain Marvel by Kelly Thompson I decided to start reading Black Widow (2020) which also happens to be written by her! I was super excited to read it because Black Widow is one of my favorite characters in the MCU, and while I had casually read some of her comics a few years ago I never really was able to delve into everything the character had to offer in the comics. So it was super excited I now have that chance! And I have to say it absolutely blew my mind how amazing these first 5 issues were, all of my expectations were exceeded.

This run started off amazing and immediatly grabs your attention within the first three pages with its amazing art and visualisation of action sequences. It was actually incredibly how fluid and smooth the action in this. It was drawn in such a way that you could easily understand the flow of the action while also seeing every single detail of it. The art in general in this is absolutely fantastic in everyway. I was really intrigued by the setup of this first arc. Black Widow getting taken out only to reappear as a super happy mother in a perfect family. I was really curious to see as to what actually happened. And as the story progresses you get more and more Truman Show vibes. I think it was a really great pick to have Arcade be the mastermind behind it as this type of thing was completely up his alley. I loved Clint's and Bucky's involvement in this as well. Them trying to figure out what is going on with Nat and not being sure whether they should pull her out of this or not. It's really bittersweet in a way, as they realize it is too good to be true for Nat but still hesitating to pull her out as she seems genuinely happy and at peace. It's kind of tragic too as I imagine she hasn't had much peace or chances to just live life and be happy, and now that she has that chance she gets forced to leave it all behind. Her slowly remembering her old self and then remembering who she was was so well done. The way she slowly took upon her old spy habbits was great. In general they did an amazing job at showing how much her being a spy affects her mind, how she percieves things and how she stands in her daily life. Little things like putting tape on the door so she would know when someone was waiting on her, stuff like that really did a lot for her characterization and showing how much being a spy influences her daily life. The moment she realizes everything and is back to her old self was kind of heartbreaking in a way. As she knew from that point on that she wouldn't have the chance anymore at a peaceful and blissful live with her husband and kid. Even worse, that she would have to break all ties with them so they would be safe and wouldn't get caught up in her troubles. It must've been such a painful moment for Nat, because you see that she genuinely cares for them and genuinely wants a normal life with them. But she just can't. And it's super heartbreaking because you know it really hurts her that she can't have that. The final few issues of this arc were defintely the most emotional and admittedly made me tear up a bit. Them trying their best to bring Nat's husband and kid to safety. And just as she checks up on them and turns her back they get blown up by the people behind this entire mess. That moment was incredibly emotional and heartbreaking, especially due to how good the art was during it. Nat crying as you see her face through the fire, realizing what just happened, and why it was right of her to force them to break all connections with her. It's very painful. I'd imagine that in the back of her mind there was a small part that was convinced that they could make it work somehow and they she could have her happy life with them. And now she gets the ultimate proof that she can't, no matter how much she wants it.

The reveal afterwards that it was a fakeout and that in reality her husband and kid were safe somewhere else on the planet was really shocking. Because it completely recontectualizes the scene where they get "blown up" and Nat cries. One could say she was just acting so everyone would be deceived and convinced of what happened. But I feel like those were genuine tears because like I said she gets the ultimate proof that she can't have a normal and happy life with them. But furthermore, from that point on they're basically "dead" in Nat's eyes. She can't ever see them again, no matter how much she wants it. She'll never know whether they'll be happy and never will get to see her kid grow up and that must be absolutely heartbreaking to realize. And that's what I think she started to realize as the plan was set in motion and the explosion happened. Her happy, perfect family is gone forever and even though they're still out there, she can't ever see or reach them. It's incredible tragic. But the moment that really hit me was this piece of dialogue she has with Bucky afterwards, who was the only one in on the plan: "There's an ache in me I've never felt before. In all the things I have been through... the highs and lows... the peaks of joy and the depths of sorrow...all pain and regret...nothing has felt as empty as this ache. It feels like and endless hole. And I cannot imagine how something so dark and endlees and empty could ever be filled." Seeing her say this and breakdown into bucky's arms on the floor was incredibly emotional and heartbreaking. It really made me tear up because you realize how tragic all of this is. And it only gets proven further in the last few pages of issue 5 as you see both Nat and then her husband and kid sit at the front of their houses each in a different part of the world as Nat talks about finding peace and happiness thinking about how she might be watching the same sunset as them. It's such an emotional page. This first arc just completely sold me on this run. I was left feeling absolutely speechless and emotional after finishing this arc. It really shows how tragic Nat as a character is and how bittersweet her life is. The trajectory of her life is such a tragic one but yet she manages to always push through and be better, even now when she basically lost her entire newfound family that she was genuinely at happy and at peace with. But still she pushes through and wants to be better because of them. And that's what really makes this character so interesting to me. She's been through so much, suffered so much and yet she still stands strong even though it's not always easy and even though she'll never have the normal life she might dream of. She does the best she can given her circumstances and knows who she is and what she can do, but also the things she isn't and can never have. I'm so happy I decided to start reading this run. I'm completely hooked and this first arc just left me feeling speechless and emotional. The art and writing of this run is just absolutly incredibly, every action moment is perfectly visualized and the writing just really sells her as this incredibly spy that can't get topped by anyone while also being a really vunreable person deep down. The last few issues were just incredible and I can't wait to see how Nat will evolve from this. Will she be able to become better for them as she promised or will she give in and take revenge for what she lost? It's going to be really interesting to see where they'll take the story from here. And I for one can't wait to read it!

[like-what-the-fuck-scoob]

Long Night (Bucky x reader)

Summary - When Y/N moves into the bedroom next door to Bucky, they gain Bucky's trust enough to help him with his nightmares. But what happens when one night Bucky is no longer himself, but the Winter Soldier?

Content Warnings - PTSD, dissasociation, nightmares/night terrors, crying, comfort, kissing, make-out session, fluff, angst.

Words - 5.4k

A/N - Hi lovelies. This is my first fanfiction! I had a great time writing it and I hope you all have a great time reading it. Requests are currently open so if you have any Bucky prompts, feel free to send them my way!

Y/N - Your name

E/C - Eye colour

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It had been a few months since you were assigned to work with the avengers. You knew their backgrounds, you knew their stories, and you knew how much they would sacrifice to keep the world, and each other, safe. To you, there was no greater privilege than to be able to call yourself a part of their team, and they welcomed you with open arms.

What started with anxiety and overwhelming imposter syndrome quickly turned into long nights of mission prep with Tony, bar crawls with Nat, morning runs with Steve and Sam, gossip sessions with Wanda, cooking with Vision, shopping trips with Thor and weapons training with Bucky and Clint. You felt at home -  accepted. Finally you understood your purpose and knew that you were exactly where you belonged, surrounded by exactly the right people.

Your relationship with each avenger was different but special in their own right. Nat and Wanda had become your best friends - the sisters you needed but never had growing up. Steve was beyond kind, always caring and respectful, double and triple checking that you were happy and comfortable both in the tower and on missions, exuding an aura of protection whenever he was near. With Tony and Peter, my God there is never a dull moment. The three of you share laughs, jokes and an overall comical relationship, but you know they would drop everything for you in a heart beat.

And Bucky... Bucky was quiet, restrained; you often thought that it looked like he was wrapped up in his own thoughts, his own mind, his own pain. You were not oblivious to his past of course, knowing of his time spent as the Winter Soldier, tortured and used, stripped of all independence and identity, a shell of who he once was. Even during weapons training he would only engage when necessary - instructing you, walking over to adjust your positioning, guiding your hands around the cold metal of the guns and blades, never seeming to be able to slip away from his tough exterior. Day by day at the avengers tower he became slowly more confident, more comfortable and outgoing, cracking smiles and the odd witty comment here and there. But for the most part when you weren't training, you both shared a friendship together curled up on the couch watching movies both new and old, allowing Bucky to feel relaxed in the silence, with no pressure to say or do anything that he might not feel ready for.

Despite the lack of words exchanged between you both, his gestures proved to you that he did in fact enjoy your company, offering a small smile half way through an old black and white film that you let him choose, or staring shyly into your eyes as he brought you hot chocolate to your room a couple of hours after your movie session, attempting to convey the words he was too nervous to speak - "Thank you, Y/N, for being patient with me, for understanding... I promise I am trying." He was grateful to you, for accepting his quiet nature, never pushing or being too overbearing, especially on his worst days.

You thought you had witnessed Bucky having one of his worst days when he spent an entire day locked in his bedroom, caught up in his own trauma and negative thoughts to face anything or anyone. Some days he truly believes he is not worth even the smallest scraps of food, branding himself as the ruthless killer HYDRA wielded him to be. During these days you decide it's best to leave Bucky alone, respecting his space and his trauma, but God on these days do you realise how much you miss seeing him, even his most fragile smile erupts a feeling of warmth in your heart as you begin to break down his harsh exterior, tapping into the Bucky who still lays underneath.

/

You thought you had seen Bucky at his worst. That is, until a couple of weeks after moving into the avengers tower, you woke up to one of Bucky's nightmares. When the team first assigned you to your bedroom next to Bucky's, you remembered wondering why on Earth nobody else had snatched up this gorgeous, spacious and cozy room. Fairy lights hung from your bed, huge windows created patterns of light dancing around your bedroom floor, and your en suite was fit for a queen. Now you understood - nobody wanted your bedroom because nobody wanted to listen to the cries of anguish and screams of terror coming from the other side of the thin wall.

Your heart broke for him, his screams and hopeless yelps echoing through your room and down your shared corridor. You swore you could hear a loud stirring, almost like sheets and pillows being thrown, or items falling from a night stand. Through Bucky's bad days you had left him alone, honouring his personal space, but this night you knew he wasn't just only affected by his trauma, he was reliving it. And he was all alone. You made the impulsive, emotional decision to go to his room and see him, even if it was to just check on him, even if he sent you away, it would at least contribute some peace of mind.

Reaching Bucky's bedroom door, you lightly pressed your hand to the wooden panel, the door slowly creaking open a tad, unlocked and inviting, exposing the light from his bedside lamp.

"Friday, is Bucky decently dressed? Is it safe for me to go in?" You whispered cautiously.

"Yes, Miss Y/N." The AI responded nonchalantly. "Mr Barnes is dressed and sitting on the edge of his bed. He seems to be feeling agitated."

Deep breaths. You gently pushed open the rest of Bucky's door and stepped inside. Your sight was met with a rather dishevelled Bucky hunched over the edge of his bed, tears streaming down his face, his long, usually fluffy brown hair now looking almost black, greased with sweat and falling haphazardly infront of his eyes. You could hear his laboured breathing from the other side of the room as he struggled to regulate his exhales, and you instinctively reached for the glass of water on his night stand, hoping it might help him calm down.

"Bucky..." You whispered as you slowly approached him. Concientious of his sensitive state, you made an effort to tread lightly on his carpet, speaking lowly, in an attempt to not trigger him further.

You knew he was aware of your entrance, he must have known since the moment you shifted his creaky door. Yet he was unresponsive. Exhausted and terrified, Bucky felt as if he has lost all ability to function, immobile and speechless, unable to focus on anything other than the rapid thump of his heart and his shallow breath, as all of his memories from Hydra flooded back.

"Here, have a drink of water Buck, it might help you settle better." You encouraged, with the softest voice you could muster.

Bucky hesitantly grasped the cup from your fingers, his hands shaky and his knuckles white with strain. Again, he did not say a word, and you sat down on the bed next to him carefully, giving him the time and opportunity to tell you to leave if he wanted too. He was still suffering, his breathing unstable and his eyes glossy with tears. He hollowed his cheeks and swallowed harshly, attempting to choke back the whimpers and sobs that sat in the back of his throat, but you noticed. With Bucky, you always notice. You placed a hand on his shoulder, rubbing your thumb along his shirt fabric, trying to soothe your tortured friend.

You wanted nothing more than to say something, to pull him close and promise him that it would be okay, to comb your fingers through his hair and simply just be there for him. But Bucky was withdrawn after everything he'd been through, sometimes recoiling from human touch at the thought of hurting the people he cares about. For now, this was enough. You didn't want to push him too far.

You weren't sure how much time had passed, but eventually Bucky became a lot more composed, his regular breaths filling the comfortable silence. He relaxed under your touch, as you lightly squeezed his shoulder as if to say "You did it, you got this." He wiped his eyes for the final time, taking a deep breath and his focus shifted back to reality - his bed, his room, the smell of his sheets, and you. You waited for a few minutes while he gathered himself, wondering if he would finally say something, but that moment never came.

Lightly stroking Bucky's forearm, you stood up to leave. It felt good knowing that even if it was just to rub his shoulder, he wanted you by his side during his hardest nights. Tolerating, let alone welcoming your presence and your touch was a huge step for Bucky, and one you felt extremely proud of him for. Maybe he didn't have to go through this alone after all?

You stepped around the edge of his bed, heading towards the door. With your hand resting on the door knob, you stopped in your tracks, knowing that if you didn't make clear your feelings, you would likely regret it later.

"Please... know that I'm always here for you. If you ever need me, if you're ever alone, you know where I am Bucky."

You turned to face him one last time, his large frame still perched on his bed, eyes dropped to the floor. You opened the door and slipped out quietly, but not before you noticed the faintest of smiles growing on the soldiers puffy lips, masked by his tangled hair and the darkness of the night.

/

The next week or so at Avengers tower wasn't particularly exciting. You had a couple of missions, and a hell of a lot of training sessions, but mostly your time was spent filling out mission reports, hanging around the tower with the team you now had the honour of calling your friends.

After Bucky's nightmare, you decided not to mention it to him unless he did. You knew it was an extremely touchy and sensitive subject for him, so you felt it best to keep it to yourself. After all, the last thing you wanted to do was embarrass him or trigger him especially after he shared such a personal and frightening experience with you. Even when a few days after the incident you and Bucky were paired on a mission together, neither of you spoke of that night, falling back into your usual patterns of friendship and time spent together.

It wasn't until Nat mentioned that she had caught Bucky staring at you a few times that you began to realise that the nightmare incident must have affected him more than he allowed himself to reveal to you. Teasing you, Nat bantered about how Bucky surely must have a crush on you, his gaze fixated on you during training, missions, and even meal times. But knowing that you uninvitedly slipped into his room a week before led you to think otherwise.

/

"Does he hate me? I hope he doesn't feel like I disrespected his space... I bet he's just trying to figure out a nice way to tell me that he doesn't want to be around me anymore, that I invaded his privacy, that I overstepped..." You pondered aloud as you paced back and forth in your bedroom for the tenth time that night, struggling to sleep for fear of waking up in the morning and finding Bucky ready to sever your friendship. After what felt like hours, you finally crawled into bed and pulled the covers over your body tightly, as though it was the hug you needed in that moment.

You hadn't lay there for very long when you heard a familiar shriek. Bucky. His screams ripped through the hallway as his night terror consumed him, irregular groans and strained whimpers filling your room. You cared for Bucky, more than you'd like to admit, and hearing him break down with just one walls thickness between you only made you more desperate to help him, to hold him. But you couldn't. Not after last time, not after he so obviously felt weary of you over the past week, not after you disrespected his boundaries. Sniffling back tears, you pulled your bed cover over your head and ears, praying that his nightmare would stop soon because you wasn't sure how much longer you could lay and listen to a person you cherished in so much pain.

After a few minutes, Bucky's screams stopped, and you let out a shaky breath. It was over. He was okay. Rolling over, you tried to get some sleep when suddenly you heard a light knock at your bedroom door. You almost thought you imagined it until you heard it again, whoever was outside firmly planting themselves in front of the door. You thought maybe one of the others in the tower heard Buckys screaming. Maybe they were looking for some company to process the ordeal? You hopped out of bed in your pyjamas and padded over to your bedroom door, gently opening it to be surprised by none other than Bucky Barnes, standing sheepishly in a t-shirt and tracksuit bottoms, his eyes glued to the floor.

"Y/N... C-Ca-Can I please come in for a bit?" He asked with shaky breaths.

To say you were confused doesnt seem enough to explain how taken aback you were. The cogs in your brain turned as you tried to piece all this together. In your mind, he wanted nothing more to do with you, so you couldn't fathom why he would be stood at your doorway at 3am unless to let you down gently, tell you that he was hurt; disappointed, that his nightmare reminded him of a time when you broke his trust. You thought you knew what was coming, and decided it would be best to allow him whatever he needed. If he wanted to talk, you would let him, and take his words with grace.

"U-um, sure Buck. Come on in."

It wasn't until the soldier averted his gaze to your bedroom, closing the door behind him, that you realised his state - the excruciating pain behind his eyes was heart wrenching, his face pink from tears and his lips quivering as he expressed shallow pants of breath. Treading across the floorboards, he made his way to your bed, taking a seat on the right hand side, letting out a quivering exhale as he laid his head back against the cool metal of your bed post.

"I um, I had another nightmare..."

"I know, Buck, I'm glad it's over for you now though." You responded lowly, hoping to hurry along the inevitable.

The room fell silent for a moment, Bucky's ragged breathing hanging in the air.

"You... You um- you never came into my bedroom tonight."

Your train of thought stopped in its tracks. Was Bucky testing you? Surely if he was planning to confront you, he wouldn't care that you never went to his room, he wouldn't care that you didn't comfort him, he wouldn't care about you. Was he hoping that you'd say sorry? Was he looking for an explanation? For fear of digging yourself an even bigger hole, you asked him the question that had been plaguing your mind since you slipped into his room a week ago.

"Did you want me to?" You croaked, eyes fixated on the wall, too nervous of Buckys reaction to look at him.

Moments passed. Seconds turned into minutes. And those minutes felt like an eternity. Until suddenly, breaking the stillness of the air, a choked sob escaped Bucky's lips as he struggled to keep up his facade. It was too much, the memories, the fear. He was breaking, and the last thing he wanted was to burden you with his pain. Hunched over, Bucky placed his head in his hands, small cries escaping his chapped lips as he found it harder to maintain his sanity, embarrassed and mentally bruised.

"Bucky... honey?" You said softly, as if the slightest of harsh tones might scare him.

Your tender words were enough to push him over the edge. Turning to look at you with glassy eyes, the damaged sergeant threw his hands around your neck, burying his face in the crook of your shoulder. Sobs racked through his body as he finally let go of his stifled emotion, holding you close as his tears stained your t-shirt.

Running your fingers over his back, you hushed him, whispering affirmations of care and understanding, as you realised... He wants this. He hasn't been staring at you for the past week because he is trying to be difficult or awkward. He is not disgusted by you, he is not angry or hurt. You didn't break his trust. He just needs you, and tonight you weren't there for him.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry honey. I thought you hated me I'm so sorry." You spilled as he tightened his grip around you, arms lowering to your ribs as he pulled you against his chest.

"Y/N- I-... I could never hate you."

Holding on to Bucky as if for dear life, you allowed him to offload his nightmare. You understood now - he needed your comfort. But you needed to comfort him back, more than you'd like to admit. His company gave you goosebumps, holding him close had you feeling butterflies. Sharing these moments felt... like a privilege. You had never met such a sensitive soul.

You weren't watching the clock, but you were sure a while had passed before Bucky's breathing slowed, his tears subsided, and he began to escape the horrors of his mind. Pulling away from your warm embrace, he beamed in appreciation, locking eyes with your E/C irises, as you gently placed his metal arm in your hands, tracing reassuring patterns over his cool fingers.

"Thank you, Y/N..."

"Don't thank me Bucky. I'm here for you, always. You can always be open with me, I promise."

And that was how your late night routine with Bucky began. When his nightmares striked, like clockwork you were at the foot of his bed in a heart beat. Seeking your presence, he allowed you each night to cradle him, console him as you waited for his storm to pass before returning to your bedroom. During the day, you and Bucky would never discuss his nightmares, but you felt yourselves growing closer and closer every day, with Bucky slowly learning that it's okay to trust people, it's okay to ask for help and have fun - nobody wanted to hurt him.

/

This brings us to today - Bucky's first mission against Hydra. Assigned as back up, he mostly steered clear of the scene, laying low and taking some time post mission to complete the mission report. But it was too much. Even just reading over the Hydra case files was enough for Bucky to slip back into a negative head space, memories and anxiety returning almost immediately. Feeling defeated, Bucky concluded that Hydra simply held power over him. At a snap of a finger, Hydra could turn Bucky into a terrified wreck, and that thought alone led the soldier to have one of the worst nightmares he could imagine that night.

It started off like most nights. Wails of terror flooded your room as Buckys nightmare ensued, your heart aching for the damaged man you adored so much. Tonight, you had brought Bucky a present - an IPod and some white earphones. Whenever you were feeling anxious or sad, you found that music always helped you relax, and always helped you sleep better. You hoped the same for Bucky - that the music might distract him from the unease in his mind. As you headed out of your bedroom door, your mind wandered, fantasized almost, as you pictured yourself scooting closer to Bucky on his bed, your hips grazing, as he watched intently as your fingers worked the IPod, showing the less so tech savy sergeant how to use it.

Approaching his bedroom door, you stopped still as suddenly his screams ceased almost unnaturally. There was no come down, no quieter cries or movement as he began to settle. Just silence. Curiously opening the door, you were greeted with a very still, almost rigid Bucky standing at the foot of his bed. His breathing was abnormally regular, his eyes were wide and alert, and his body stood tall. Confused and concerned, you set the IPod down on the bedside table, focusing your sights on the fighter in front of you.

"Bucky... sit down honey you need to relax." You urged purposefully. "You've just had a nightmare, try to lay down and take a few deep breaths."

Buckys stare remained alert and fixated on you. He showed no acknowledgement of the words you had just spoke, instead choosing to remain rooted to his bedroom floor. Growing increasingly concerned for your companion, you took a step forward to place your hand on his shoulder; the touch something that he had learned to appreciate. As you reached out your hand however, Bucky recoiled. Stumbling backwards, his stare shifting to that of pure fear and defeat. At his negative responsive you pulled back immediately, racking your brain for anything that might have changed, something that could explain why countless nights building Buckys trust had just seemingly been undone in an instant.

"P-please." Bucky stuttered, his eyes glossed over. "Please don't. Please don't hurt me again."

Again? Thoroughly bewildered, you had no idea what was going through Bucky's head. You had never and would never dream of hurting the man you were falling for. And then it clicked - Hydra would. Hydra had and would tortue Bucky endlessly, and after today's mission it was no wonder that he was experiencing such a vivid and realistic dream, reliving his trauma all over again.

"Buck it's me, it's Y/N. I'm not going to hurt you, I promise. Hydra isn't here and you're safe, you're safe, you're safe," you repeated, hoping at least one of the affirmations would make a difference.

You could have thrown up at the way Bucky responded to your words. He looked straight through you. There was not one ounce of recognition behind his eyes as he stood stiffly with tears of dread falling on to his cheeks, his posture anticipating fight orders, just like Hydra had taught him.

With no access to his trigger words, you knew it was almost impossible for Bucky to have been compromised. But this was not the man you knew, this was not your Bucky. His grasp on reality had disappeared as he embodied the Winter Soldier, yet he had no desire to attack. In this moment, you were his handler, and your gut wrenched when you realised what you had to do in order to help him.

"Soldat?" You commanded, voice breaking as you enabled his conditioning.

Blue eyes met your own as his stature stood to attention. It was clear that he didn't want too, obvious that deep inside he was nothing short of a scared little boy, but he couldn't fight his body's impulse to serve it's handler.

With softness in your instructions, you guided the Winter Soldier. "I'm not going to hurt you, Soldat, but I need to you to lay back down on the bed for me."

With furrowed brows, Bucky looked at you with a hint of doubt. This was the most harmless demand he had ever been given, and a part of him wondered if you were simply testing him, preparing to mock and wound him later. You noticed his slight agitation and echoed your previous sentiment. You wouldn't hurt him.

With one more glance for clarification, Bucky lay down on his bed guardedly, slowly, as if looking for traps or grenades that may have been planted. Never once drifting his stare from you, he once again looked to you for his next task. Words could not describe how you craved for his touch, his warmth, his embrace. He was so vulnerable, and you were the only person who had given enough of your time to him to be able to understand how to relieve him of his hardships. But you dared not touch him. Yes, he hadn't been triggered by definition, but he was scared, and the last thing you wanted was for him to lash out. Reaching for the IPod and earphones, you dropped them hesitantly on Buckys lap, instructing him to pick up the device.

"Here." You explained, gesturing towards the buttons on the music player. "Click this. Now this one. Great Soldat, now put those white buds in your ears and you'll be able to hear some music."

Looking forward to spending some time with Bucky, earlier in the day you had uploaded some of your favourite songs to the IPod in the hopes that you could both share a closeness, one earphone each as you enjoyed good music with good company. Whilst this wasn't exactly the intimate moment you had in mind, you smiled to yourself softly at you watched the super soldier follow your direction. Bucky was complicated, and that was okay. With Bucky, you felt like you could overcome anything; you could do complicated.

"Okay Buc- Soldat, I want you to close your eyes for me. Try your best to fall asleep, and remember I'm right here. And I'm not going to hurt you."

With shaky breaths, Bucky gently allowed his eyes to flutter closed. Manipulated and afraid, you noticed a slight tremor in his metal hand as his vision faded to black - his sense of alertness no longer reliable. Hushing him, you reminded him that you were someone to be trusted, an ally, a partner.

"Sh shh, it's okay soldier. Get some rest, you've done great work for me today."

Understanding your words over the quiet of the IPod, it wasn't long until Bucky fell asleep to the soft rhythms and beats of the music, his chest rising and falling in a deep slumber. With a sigh of relief, you allowed yourself to settle on the other side of Buckys bed, uncomfortable with the thought of leaving him alone after such a distressing episode. If he woke up in the morning frightened or confused, you needed to be there for him.

Your head swimming with emotions, tired and weary, you felt your body surrender to the arms of sleep, as you curled up against the soldier, who you realised, you were head over heels in love with.

/

The sunrise peeking through the curtains, you awoke the next morning to Bucky stirring next to you, his firm body making contact with yours as he sat upright. Realising your presence next to him, his face arose a look of panic as he fixated on you through tired eyes.

"Y-Y/N... Why are you here? Was everything okay last night? What happened? Oh God, did we -" Buckys rambling was cut short as he felt something square and sharp against his back. Reaching underneath him, he pulled out the IPod and earphones he had fallen asleep with, a look of pure dissaray on his features.

"What is this? Where did this come from?" He asked, worry lacing his tone.

You breathed a deep inhale, preparing to explain the events of the previous night. The last thing you wanted was for Bucky to withdraw or become embarrassed. He needed to know that it was okay, that you weren't going anywhere. You just hoped it meant as much to him as it did to you.

"James..."

Bucky swallowed hard as his breathing hitched. You never use his first name. You cupped his hands in yours, squeezing them slightly to put him at ease.

"Something happened last night. Im gonna tell you, but remember it doesn't change anything. It doesn't change the way I see you."

You begin to reveal what happened during his episode - his nightmare, his dissociation, that you acted as his handler, and that you gave him the IPod in an attempt to help his anxieties - to soothe him. Before you could even finish your last sentence, Bucky placed his hands around your waist and pulled you close, burying his head in your neck as he sighed deeply, inhaling your scent, admiring your kindness.

"You... You did all of that for me?"

You nodded sheepishly, hoping that it wasn't incredibly obvious how much you cared for him. The truth was, you'd do anything and everything for Bucky. To you, he deserved the world.

"Why didn't you call Steve? I could have hurt you Y/N. And if I did that, I'd- I'd never forgive myself."

"You were scared Bucky." You pressed. "You were terrified and you needed to know that you could trust someone, that I wasn't going to hurt you. If I had called Steve we both know he would have at best restrained you by force and at worst have you locked up, and then all of the healing you've done would come undone, and you wouldn't understand that I- that I-"

You knew you were rambling. You wanted to say it, you wanted to tell him that you loved him. Your mouth was moving faster than your brain and you just couldn't get the words out. Before you could recover from your failed confession, you felt Buckys flesh hand cup your cheek. Looking up into his bright blue eyes, he smiled softly, leaning his head forward and placing his lips onto yours. He was hesitant, respectful, and his lips felt like home. Pulling away, you placed your forehead against his, tracing patterns over his forearms just the way you know he likes it.

"That I love you..."

Eyes interlocked with passion and want, your lips crashed together for a second time, this time fuelled with longing, desperation to feel the other as your tongues intertwined. A low moan escaped Bucky's mouth as you glided your tongue over his bottom lip, only to return to his mouth to once again tangle with his. He gripped your head tightly, delicately pulling your hair, erupting a whimper of pleasure from the back of your throat as he struggled to contain his own. Interlaced with eachothers bodies, Bucky pulled away after a short while, his beaming smile radiating happiness and devotion - nothing short of perfection. He raised your hand and placed peppered kisses down your knuckles, wondering how he got so lucky to meet such a beautiful soul as yours.

"I love you too, Y/N. So so much."

Your heart skipped a beat. You always wondered what it would be like to hear those words from Bucky, and it feels so right. Humming contently, you leaned your head into his chest, unwinding at the sound of his steady heartbeat.

"Lay with me doll," Bucky whispered, kissing the top of your ear. "Let me appreciate you."

And you did. God, you did. His hands rubbing your back, cool metal fingers moving up through your hair, romantically exploring every inch of you, his lips on yours; this was a morning to cherish. Whispering sweet nothings while the sun came up, you and Bucky eventually fell back asleep, this time in each other's arms as you both slept peacefully, satisfied, waking up just in time to the smell of freshly cooked bacon in the kitchen.

/

"Mornin everyone." You croaked, tiredness evident in your voice as you and Bucky wandered into the kitchen, the rest of the team unaware of the nights happenings.

Putting some bread in the toaster, you turned around to speak to your friends. You notice Tony's face tilt to the side, his brows pointing downward as he studies your face. After such an eventful night with Bucky, the bags under your eyes were unmistakable, and your features were red and puffy from a night of heavy emotion - in more ways than one.

"Long night?" He asked, his tone slightly laced with concern.

You flushed as you caught Bucky's eye, smirking to yourself as you realised that the kind, sensitive and protective soldier, the man who you love, you can now call your own. He was yours, and you were his. Turning back to Tony, you smiled softly.

"Oh, my night was perfect..."

[turtle-steverogers]

i was thinking but do you know the unsent project? it is this website where you can write a message to your first love that you never sent to them. now imagine steve writing one (or multiple) to bucky after he came out of the ice after nat told him about it... yeah

hello hi anon this broke me and it was too perfect not to turn into a ficlet klafjldskjfalskf thank you

-

Unsent Letters

To:

Steve’s fingers freeze over the keyboard, the cursor blinking at him. It feels like it’s taunting him-- teasing him with the burden of choking out a name. What should he even say? The sender is anonymous, but how many people are named Bucky out there? Would anyone even care?

To: Bu

Steve huffs and backspaces, his hands trembling as he curls them into fists. He isn’t sure what provoked Natasha to tell him about this website. It’s a cruel tease to everything he wishes he could say-- wished he could say before Bucky slipped through his fingers. And now his only option is yelling into an abyss. The text box is black and daunting. He turns it yellow. No, too happy. Green. Yes, that’s fine. Bucky’s favorite color was always green.

His gaze wanders away from the screen of his hefty Dell laptop and out the window of his apartment. DC’s low rising buildings span out in front of him. His gut aches; he misses New York already. But he knows being there would only mangle his soul further, seeing his already alien home torn to shreds by literal space whales. He huffs, thinking of Bucky’s comics. His stories came to life after all. Bucky would have probably vibrated out of his skin if he knew there was other life out there.

To: My astronaut

How’s space treating you? It’s treating me pretty badly, if I’m being honest. If only you could see what it’s done to Brooklyn. I think you’d be pretty mad at it if you knew…

Steve hesitates, reading back over what he’s typed. It’s stupid as hell, and he cringes, but he doesn’t backspace. His fingers find the keys again.

I miss you something awful. I don’t think that even encompasses how much I’m hurting without you. I feel so lost right now-- space is much bigger and scarier than you’d think. I know you’d love it. I wish you could see bits of it, but god, I just want to go home. I want you to come home.

Steve freezes again and finds the screen blurry where tears have welled in his eyes. His jaw clenches as he pictures the way Bucky would laugh at him-- teasing him for his dramatics and ruffling his hair. He wishes he could be there now, rolling his eyes and nudging Steve’s shoulder.

“What’re you upsetting yourself for?” He’d say, gently closing the laptop and coaxing Steve into his arms. “I’m right here, pal.”

And if Steve closes his eyes, he can almost feel Bucky’s warmth enveloping him. But he’s not there. He’s dead, and Steve’s a goddamn ghost, drifting through a future that doesn’t know him.

He opens his eyes and stares at the text box, then clicks submit.

The screen loads, and his message is gone, his pain forever documented in the abyss.

-

For someone who fought aliens two weeks after waking up from his impromptu seventy year sleep, Steve’s life is pretty monotonous. He contemplates this unfortunate fact as he stands in front of his toaster, hair sticking up on the back of his head as he nurses a mug of coffee and waits for his toast to pop.

It’s 5:45 in the morning and he tries to remember a time when he didn’t rise this early. Before the war, perhaps. Though, he’s always been a bit of an early bird. His home life was sporadic to put it lightly and he’d learned from an early age that the sooner he was awake, the better it was for everyone. Vigilance is not a new concept for Steve.

He hasn’t always stayed up late, though. That’s certainly new, and he feels this fact viscerally as he catches sight of his reflection in the microwave. There are bags under his eyes that will be gone by mid-morning thanks to the serum. Dermatologists hate him, Natasha says. Steve thinks he’s pretty lucky that the serum more or less equipped him with a built-in anti-aging agent. His father had started balding by thirty.

His toast pops and he starts a little, blinking blearily at the slightly burnt bread as he pulls it out of the toaster with his thumb and forefinger. He spreads on the same raspberry jam and butter that he uses every morning and tries not to think of how bland it tastes in his mouth as he eats it standing at the counter. Another routine.

He tries not to look at last night’s dishes in the sink as he stacks his plate and silverware on top and doesn’t bother sorting out his hair before pulling on his sneakers and slipping out of his apartment. The sun hasn’t quite risen yet, only the beginning tendrils of light sneaking over the low tops of the DC buildings, and Steve vaguely regrets not grabbing a sweatshirt before he left. It’s not quite Summer yet and the mornings could still get pretty cool.

He’s about to take off down the street when he freezes. Natasha is sitting on the steps of his complex, wearing a pair of pink tinted sunglasses and tossing up and down the keys to her car. Steve blinks, rubs his eyes, then blinks again. Nope. She’s still there.

“Nat?”

Natasha looks up at him and smiles. “Hello.”

Steve shifts, uncomfortable. “Hi. You need something? Is there a mission?”

“No,” Natasha says lightly, standing. “You’re not running this morning, though. Come on, I’m taking you to Starbucks.”

“What?”

“Starbucks. You’re going to try it.”

“I don’t want--”

“Steve, you do the same thing every day. Step out of your comfort zone a little.”

Steve frowns, but Natasha’s right-- he really doesn’t ever stray from his routine.

“Fine,” he says, and twenty minutes later, they’re strolling into the nearest Starbucks.

He’s only been in one before, and that was to use the restroom while on a run. He’d bought a water bottle in an attempt to not be rude and use their facilities without giving them any business, but he hadn’t even considered the expansive menu. All the fancy names were too daunting.

They’re just as daunting now as he stares up at the board, heart hammering out of his chest as he’s faced with indecision. Natasha takes one look at his face, and reaches out to squeeze his arm.

“I’ll order something for you,” she says. “What kind of coffee do you like?”

Steve gives her a pained look. “Um… just coffee?”

Natasha quirks a smile and orders him something called a caramel macchiato. He’ll take it, he guesses.

The drink is too damn sweet and sugary and he almost gags. Still, he was always told to finish what he was given, so he drinks the whole thing.

-

To: Mr. Sweet Tooth

You’d fucking love it here. Everything is packed with sugar and sweetness-- enough to make even my teeth rot. I had something called a caramel macchiato today and it tasted like someone took your ma’s caramels and condensed them into a cup. I couldn’t stand it, but I know if you were here, you’d want at least twelve. I hope you’re enjoying all the sweets you can up in space.

Love, Mr. Boring

-

Steve’s fingers are stiff and frozen as he works at the straps of his stealth suit. The tangy taste of saltwater still sits heavy on his tongue, and he clenches his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering too harshly as he finally peels off his suit. It’s not much better, being naked, but at least the wet fabric isn’t clinging to him anymore.

The mission had been pretty straightforward until some alien tech managed to blast the quinjet to kingdom come, and they all free-fell straight into the freezing Atlantic.

Steve had managed to keep it together as they took down the goddamn mad scientist that fucked them over, but now that he’s home and alone, he can feel the adrenaline crashing.

He’s shaking from more than just the cold as he draws himself a warm bath, and he pulls his knees up to his chest, trying to breathe through the panic that wants to engulf his entire being.

He loses time for a bit, and comes back to himself lying in his bed, burrowed under several thick layers. He feels so cold, down to his very soul-- a chill that he can never seem to truly shake, even when he’s warm.

Not for the first time, he wishes Bucky were there to hold him. He slips off to sleep thinking old, comforting thoughts of Bucky rubbing his hands between his own, coaxing his head under his chin to engulf him in that natural warmth of his. He always was a fucking furnace.

But when Steve wakes an hour later, shaking hard enough to move the bed with the force of the nightmare he’d dropped into, Bucky is not there to soothe away the ice.

-

To: JB

im so cold and i cant breathe ever and nothing feels right. I dont know what to do, u were always the problem solver between us and i cant think straight right now and i just want you here please. I cant do this anymore, im so tired please come back. I need you please

-

The Winter Soldier file sits in front of Steve-- a horrifying nightmare wrapped up in a neat brown folder. Residual nausea swirls around in his gut as he comes down from the horrible high of reading through the contents. His hands shake where they grasp the thick paper. His heart clenches hard in his chest.

Bucky is alive. Bucky is alive, and he’s been unmade.

Steve doesn’t know where he is-- if he’s escaped, or if Hydra found him again. It’s been three weeks now since the helicarriers, and he’s only just gotten the courage to sit down and wade through the shit that is Bucky’s reality.

He just hopes he’s safe. God, he hopes.

Sam says he’ll help him look, and Steve needs to know he’s at least out of danger, but he barely knows where to start.

And he’s sorry. He’s so fucking sorry.

Blinking out of his reverie, Steve looks at his laptop. He feels strange and detached as he reaches for it and logs in.

To: Bucky

And yes, that feels right. He should use his name, since he suspects no one has for a long, long time.

I’m so sorry for what happened to you. I’m sorry that you’ve been hurting so quietly for so long. I understand if you’re not ready to come home-- I understand if you never are. I just hope that you know that there will always be a place with me that is safe. I love you so much and I’m here, forever and always.

Love, Steve.

He’s not naive. He knows it would be dangerous to submit that particular message, so he doesn’t. But that’s okay. That one’s just for him-- for them.

-

“Steve? What is the… Unsent Project?”

Steve frowns and pokes his head out of the kitchen. Bucky is sitting on the couch in the living room, using his laptop, because his own is having storage issues.

Bucky looks at him. “It’s one of your saved tabs. What is it?”

And oh, fuck. Steve had forgotten to remove that from his homepage-- it really wasn’t needed anymore. He blushes all the way to his ears.

“Oh, it’s-- nothing. Not anything important--”

But Bucky has already clicked on the tab.

“The Unsent Project,” he reads aloud. “A collection of unsent text messages to… first… loves…”

He trails off as he processes what he’s looking at, and Steve can’t quite read his expression when he looks at him again. His eyebrows are furrowed, and he’s looking at Steve like he’s some sort of kicked puppy. Steve shifts, uncomfortable.

“Were you sending me… messages? While I was dead?”

Steve swallows. “Um…” and now that Bucky says it out loud, it really does sound quite sad. He shrugs. “It’s Natasha’s fault?”

Bucky shakes his head, clicking on the search bar. He starts to type his name, but Steve shakes his head.

“I didn’t use your name.”

“Oh,” Bucky says, then frowns at him again. “What did you use?”

Steve blushes harder, sitting next to Bucky and taking the laptop from him.

“Um…” he hesitates, then types what he was sure he used as his first alias.

My astronaut

The screen buffers and loads, then fifty or so messages pop up. Steve scrolls down-- it doesn’t take long to find his.

They’re both quiet as they read, and Steve cringes. Jeez, he really had been pretty dramatic. Next to him, Bucky makes a hurt noise.

“Oh, honey,” he murmurs, taking the laptop back from Steve. He reads the message again, then once more, and reaches out for Steve. “Aw, I’m here now.”

Steve huffs, embarrassed. “I know,” he says. “That was way back, like, three weeks after I woke up.”

Bucky stills. “You fought aliens three weeks after you woke up?”

“... More like two.”

Bucky hums. “Are there others?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, reaching out to type on Bucky’s lap, because Bucky is holding him now and he’s quite reluctant to move. He thinks for a moment, then types in the next one he remembers.

Mr. Sweet Tooth

Bucky laughs, and Steve finds himself smiling.

“I find this funny,” Bucky says. “Because caramel macchiatos are definitely one of my favorites now.”

Steve laughs, too, and butts his head against Bucky’s shoulder.

“If only I could tell that to myself back then-- he’d be thrilled.”

“I’m sure,” Bucky says. “Any more?”

Steve hesitates, thinking of the one he’d sent after that nightmare-- when he was low and hurting. Incoherent. He isn’t sure he wants Bucky to see that particular side of his soul, but Bucky has been more than generous in letting him in on his pains nowaday, and it’s not like Bucky hasn’t witnessed Steve’s own current nightmares.

He bites his lip and types in JB. That seems to yield a lot more results, and it takes a while for Steve to find the message.

He hides his face in Bucky’s neck as he reads. Bucky’s arms gradually tighten around him, and a moment later, he feels him kiss the top of his head.

“Honey, I hate that you were hurting so bad,” Bucky mutters against his hair.

Steve shrugs. “We both were,” he says, and it’s true. There’s something to be said about the guilt they both feel for not being able to save the other person at their lowest, but life hasn’t been kind to them. The vitriol, Steve thinks, should be directed at the goddamn universe for keeping them apart, not themselves for fucking dying. They’re working on it.

Bucky’s quiet for a long time. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he says. “Is that it?”

Steve shakes his head. “But I never sent the last one.”

“Why not?”

“I wrote it after DC.”

He feels Bucky squeeze him again, and he squeezes back.

“Oh.”

“I just-- I wanted you to know that you didn’t have to come home. That I just wanted you to be safe; needed to know you were safe, but it was up to you. I just needed you to know I was here, if you needed me.”

Bucky pulls back then and cups his face, kissing him soundly. Steve’s surprised for only a moment before he’s kissing back.

“I did know that,” Bucky says against his lips. “I needed time-- I was lost-- but the first thing I knew when I remembered who you were was that you were a safe person, because you’d never force me anywhere.”

Steve kisses him again, then pulls him into a hug. “I’m glad you knew that.” It’s warm, where their chests meet, and Bucky is solid beneath him. Real. He isn’t speaking into an abyss anymore.

-

There’s a sticky note on Bucky’s pillow next to his head when he wakes up the next morning. Steve’s side of the bed is already vacant, and he can’t hear him downstairs. He must have already left for a run.

Propping himself on an elbow, Bucky plucks up the sticky note.

To: My Bucky

Thank you for choosing me to be your home, and thank you forever, for being mine.

I love you with everything I have.

Love, your Steve

Bucky smiles, heart light as he folds the notes. He’ll keep that one with him, he thinks. A little bit of home to bring wherever he goes.

-

anyway yeah fslkjflaskjfls i-- ouch. anything to do with letters w these two hurts me immensely

[breadqueen95]

Dress - Bucky Barnes

bucky barnes x fem!reader

wc: 5k

plot: bucky and y/n’s relationship is new, and they don’t want to share with their friends just yet. but something as simple as a dress can change anyone’s mind, even the winter soldier. 

content warnings: kissing. physical affection. flirting. allusions to sex. drinking. being drunk. language. bucky being a flirt. 

a/n: this is for @natasha-romancff and her taylor swift writing challenge! it took me awhile, but i’ve had a ton of fun writing this. so many bucky fics are angsty, and rightly so the man has some TRAUMA. but for my first bucky fic, based on dress by taylor swift, i wanted something happier for him 

***

Damn. That was a lot of leg.

“I don’t know,” you muttered as you stared into the mirror, “aren’t these things…a little classier than this?”

“Uh…have you met Tony Stark?” Natasha grumbled as she continued to scroll through her phone. “The man has never been classy a day in his life.”

“Well I know he isn’t, but fancy people show up to these things. I just don’t want to embarrass myself.” You were currently standing in front of the full-length mirror in Wanda’s room, staring at the reflection of a woman who didn’t quite look like you.

But it was you, wasn’t it? It was just…that you was wearing a very short, very sexy red cocktail dress. The sweetheart neckline was a nice touch, but the back was completely open. And that hemline? Definitely hiked way up past your knees.

“Y/n, relax,” Wanda reassured in her lilting accent, “sure, the dress is a little…spicier…than you’re used to, but it’s in a good way.”

“I’m pretty sure every single person would be able to tell I spend my days in tactical gear. God, I’m not sure I even know how to walk in heels this high!”

Heaving a dramatic sigh, Natasha threw her phone down and looked at you in the mirror. Her eyebrows were raised, and she was giving you her usual ‘don’t give me that shit’ look. It nearly had you shaking in your very strappy black heels.

“Are you kidding me, y/n? I’ve seen you strut in enough fancy parties during undercover missions to know that you’ve got this.”

“Yeah,” Wanda scoffed as she took a sip of red wine from her glass, “all she’s nervous about is what Bucky will think.”

Rolling your eyes, you tried to hide how much that sentence affected you.

“C’mon, Wanda. You know Bucky and I are just friends.”

“Do friends undress each other with their eyes whenever they’re in the same room?”

Damn it. Damn Wanda and her stupid perceptiveness.

“You’re reading too much into it, Wanda.” She just laughed at you, acting like she knew so much better.

What you knew and wasn’t ready to admit to your two best friends, was that she was right on the money.

Bucky Barnes, the infamous Winter Soldier, your favorite person in the entire world, was now your boyfriend. He had been for a few weeks now. The two of you were insanely private people. Hell, it had been years before the two of you had finally learned everything about each other. Once you had gotten past the walls the other had so carefully crafted, well…

At that point you were in love.

But the others didn’t need to know that, not yet at least. The Avengers were a family, your family. They were really the only true family you’d ever had. But Bucky…Bucky was finally yours. And you were his. You didn’t think it was crazy to just want to enjoy that, just the two of you, without everyone else sharing their jokes and opinions just yet. They did it out of love, you both knew that, but you just wanted him all to yourself.

As you looked back at your reflection in the mirror, you took a minute to really consider what Bucky’s reaction might be. He had the best poker face in the room no matter who he was with, but you knew him well enough to know how he was feeling just based on his eyes. He’d always said how much he loved red on you, and he adored every and any excuse to touch your skin. Those steel blue eyes of his would absolutely burn once he saw you in this dress.

And fuck, that was something you really wanted to see.

“Well, if you aren’t going to wear that dress, you better pick something else,” Nat said, jerking you from your fantasies, “we need to be there in twenty minutes, and we all need to touch up our makeup.”

“Actually…I think I’ll wear it,” you said confidently, trying to hide your grin as you ran your hands down the silky fabric.

What you didn’t see was Natasha and Wanda sharing a secret smirk behind you, like they’d known what you’d do the whole time.

***

Six weeks ago, everything had changed for you and Bucky.

You’d known how you felt for a long time. Bucky Barnes, despite his past, was the kind of man anyone could fall in love with. He was sincere, kind, generous, witty…everything you’d ever wanted in a partner. He had been your best friend for even longer.

It had been a long time before you could even admit your feelings to yourself, let alone to him. After everything the two of you had been through, who had the time and mental capacity for romance? It just didn’t seem important. You just chalked up your feelings to being such close friends. All you wanted was to be near him, even if you just sat in silence doing different things. Just being in the same room as Bucky brought you a sort of peace you’d never had before. Whenever he touched you, even if it was just a brief hug or brushing your back to get past you, your skin erupted into goosebumps. But that was just because physical touch was still foreign to you, right?

And his smile. God, his wonderful smile…

Bucky didn’t smile much. He hid behind a mask of stoicism, a remnant from the trauma of his horrible history as the Winter Soldier. Showing any sort of emotion, especially happiness, was hard for him. But when he finally let himself smile? It was the most beautiful thing you’d ever see.        

It took several sleepless nights wrestling with those confusing feelings to figure it out. You didn’t just see Bucky as your best friend. You had it bad. Not just “oh my god he’s so handsome” bad, like the “I would take a bullet for you I’m so in love” bad. That revelation? It left you euphoric. It also left you scared.

Because you were so sure Bucky didn’t feel the same. And that thought was like a knife to the heart every time it flashed through your mind.

So you kept it to yourself. You tried to keep things as normal as possible, but your heart kept fluttering whenever he walked into a room. Being so close to Bucky meant you confided in each other about pretty much everything, and he knew you well enough to know you were hiding something.

It all exploded on a Tuesday night in the compound.

Tuesdays were your movie nights. Bucky had a lot of pop culture to catch up on, so on this night every week he would come by your room to watch a movie. It was a weekly tradition that kind of started by accident. You were shocked he still hadn’t made time to watch Lord of the Rings, so you forced him onto your couch with popcorn and The Fellowship of the Ring. He loved it so much, and immediately asked if you guys could watch The Two Towers the next week. How could you say no to him?

Tonight, you were watching 13 Going on 30. It was your all-time favorite romcom, and you figured you could both use a break from all the action and fantasy movies you’d been cycling through. Something with a happy ending was worth indulging in.

“Does that Matt guy look like Banner to you? Or is it just me?” Bucky asked through a mouthful of popcorn.

“Heh, maybe a little,” you said, “Give or take a few years.” He laughed at that, and you forced yourself to laugh quietly. You wanted to blurt out your feelings every time you looked at Bucky, so you’d gotten quieter and quieter every time you spent time with him. It was an awful reaction, and you knew he noticed. But it was better than losing his friendship, right?

After that awful and painfully obvious forced laugh, Bucky let out a huge sigh and paused the movie. He set the bowl of popcorn down on the coffee table in front of the couch, then turned to face you. Exasperation and hurt glimmered in his eyes.

“Y/n, what the fuck is going on with you?”

“W-what do you mean?”

“Oh come on, don’t give me that,” he said sharply, “I know you better than anyone, and I know for a fact there’s something you’re not telling me. Is it me? Did I do something wrong?”

“What? No, god no!” You exclaimed.

“Well it must be something I did, because you’ve never been this quiet around me and it keeps getting worse. I hate it, and I want to know what I did so I can fix it.”

“Bucky, I’m serious, it’s nothing you did—”

“Then why? Why are you shutting me out?” He cut you off angrily, arms thrown wide. “You’re my best friend, I just don’t get why—”

“I don’t want you like a best friend, Bucky!” Your eyes went wide as the words flew from your lips. In the most comical way, you clapped your hand over your mouth as if you could stop the words that had already been said. Bucky’s eyes narrowed in confusion.

Oh fuck. He didn’t get it. Curse him and his old man ways.

“What does that even mean, Y/n? Are you saying you don’t want me around anymore?”

“Bucky, of course not. God, I would never want that. Never in a million years.”

“Then you better explain, because if you haven’t noticed, I’m over 100 years old. I need a little help here.”

“It means, uh…um,” you stuttered, wringing your hands together. “Is there any chance we can just forget I said that?”

“Nope, not a chance.”

“It means…it means that I care about you. As more than a friend.”

His entire face seemed to crinkle as he processed that. If you weren’t freaking out, you’d be obsessing over how damn cute it made him look. Then his eyes got wide as he began to make the connection. Your stomach nearly fell out of your ass as his eyes lifted again to meet yours.

“I…I think I know what you’re saying,” he nearly whispered, “I just need you to get real specific real fast, because I’m not about to say anything until I know exactly what you mean.”

“It means I’m in love with you, okay?” You burst out. Even through your mortification, there was a sudden sense of relief. A secret as big as that had definitely been weighing you down. Now that it was out there, that was one less thing you had to worry about.

His eyes grew even wider. How that was possible, you didn’t even know. That beautiful mouth of his began to turn up into a small smile as he gazed softly at you.

“You’re in love with me?” He asked, his smile getting wider with each passing second.

“What, you need it carved into stone or something?” You couldn’t help but sass him. Did you fucking stutter?

“No, it’s just…I never thought you’d feel that way about me.”

“Well, clearly I do. So you – wait, you mean you’ve thought about this before?”

“Of course I have,” he said as he shrugged, “I’ve been in love with you for two years now, how could I not think about it?”

You were instantly filled with warmth and pure bliss. In all your obsessing over your own feelings, you’d never allowed yourself to consider that he might feel the same about you. It just didn’t seem possible.

“I’m sorry,” you burst out, holding a hand up, “you’re telling me you’ve been into me for two years and didn’t say anything?”

“Why didn’t you?” He shot back, inching closer to you.

“Because you’re my best friend. I didn’t want to lose you because of stupid feelings I have.”

“But…I have those same ‘stupid feelings’ for you. So can we just cut the whole act and get on with it?” Bucky brought a hand up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing along your skin so gently.

“Uh…um…get on with what?”

“Well I’d kinda like to kiss you, if you’re cool with it.”

“Bucky Barnes did you just use current slang to ask if you could kiss me?” You didn’t move an inch as his face moved right in front of yours, breath intermingling as you gazed into each other’s eyes. God, was this really happening?

“Yeah, guess your lessons worked,” he murmured.

“Well you better kiss me, then.”

As soon as your lips met, it was like coming home.

***

That memory, your favorite memory, replayed in your head as the three of you stepped into the elevator. Nat and Wanda were happily chatting about who would be there, what kind of antics Tony would cook up tonight, if there would be music we could actually dance to. You know, normal party things.

All you could think about was how long you had to stay until you could sneak off with your boyfriend.

You were so happy Wanda and Natasha had convinced you to wear this dress. When you’d first put it on, the difference from your normal look was so jarring that it took you a few minutes to get used to it. But now that you had, now that you felt the silky fabric shifting against your skin as you moved, now that you saw how dangerously long your legs looked in these heels…

Damn, you felt sexy.

And that sexy feeling? It made you want Bucky’s hands all over you.

But this was a party. A party thrown by Tony Stark, one of the most perceptive and observant people you’d ever met. If you left too soon, if he thought you weren’t “having enough fun”, he’d be more than a little upset. So you had to stay, drink, mingle, maybe dance a little…and then, maybe later, you could go do what you actually wanted.

The elevator pinged, indicating you had reached the topmost floor of the compound. This floor was home to a huge communal space, often used for just hanging out with the team. But on nights like tonight, Tony went all out and turned the space into something that resembled…a club?

The three of you stepped out into the massive room, upbeat music already blasting from the speakers. Typical Tony – he never really outgrew his love for dancing and parties. The bass thrummed through your body, making you want to move to the music. The lights were dim, but you could still tell who was around. It looked like you were some of the last members of the team to arrive. There was a huge bar off to the side, and Natasha headed that way right away. You turned to ask Wanda if she wanted to follow Nat, but she was already making a beeline for Vision. Smiling, you just turned right back around to follow Natasha. A drink sounded pretty good right now.

As you made your way to the bar, you felt more than a few pairs of eyes on you as you walked. You sneakily looked around as you went, noticing men and women watching you with admiration, and dare you say it, longing. As someone whose job was to blend in with the background all the time, this was a different and slightly addictive feeling. You leaned on the bar next to Nat right as the bartender slid her drink over to her.

“Straight whiskey tonight? Damn, going hard.” You quipped.

“Hey now, you know I can handle my liquor. It’s you we need to watch out for, you lightweight.”

Laughing, you scanned the party guests, looking for the one person you wanted to see. Tony had had arm around Pepper’s waist, both laughing at something Rhodey had said. Bruce lingered around them, drink in hand and looking a little nervous, but still happy to be included. Wanda and Vision were sitting quietly on one of the couches, both looking absolutely smitten with each other. Scott Lang, one of the newest additions, was busting some moves, while Peter Parker laughed as he watched. Thor, who was visiting from Asgard, laughed boisterously as he watched various guests try to lift his hammer. You couldn’t help the smile growing on your face. You loved these people so much.

Then, you saw him.

Bucky was with Sam and Steve, as usual. But even as Sam and Steve were talking animatedly next to him, those gorgeous blue eyes of his were glued to you. There was a kind of intensity in them you hadn’t seen before. Your breath whooshed from you body as he grinned at you. Trying to maintain the suggestive image your dress gave you, you managed to send a flirtatious smile his way, then turned back around to face the bar. Leaning against the counter, you knew he’d get an eyeful of your bare back. God, this was fun.

The bartender finally made his way over to you, and you ordered two tequila shots.

Nat turned to you, one eyebrow arched in surprise as she asked, “And you say I’m going hard? You can’t just down two shots right away, babe.”

“I’m not doing two shots; you think I’m stupid?” The bartender slid the shots over to you along with two lime wedges. “One is clearly for you.”

Unable to hold back a laugh, Natasha put her arm around your shoulders and pulled you into her side as she said, “Why the fuck not, let’s do it.” The two of you went through the process: salt, shot, lime. You couldn’t help but wince as you downed the harsh liquor. Of all the shots in the world, tequila probably tasted the worst. The only reason you kept going for it was the warmth it traced down your body, and you felt your muscles begin to loosen up.

“Two more,” you called over to the bartender.

“Uh, no,” Natasha shot at you, grabbing her whiskey, and pushing off the bar, “I’m good with my top shelf shit, you keep going after that gasoline if you want but I’m out.”

“C’mon, Nat,” you called out, “what am I gonna do with two shots?”

“I’m sure you’ll find someone else, babe.” She said with a wave over her shoulder.

Sighing, you turned back to the ridiculously pretty bar (seriously, how much had Tony paid for this thing?). Who else would help you look cool and sexy at a bar for your secret boyfriend?

Okay, that was the cringiest thought you’d ever had. Gross.

As the bartender slid the tequila in front of you, you steeled yourself for the nastiness that was about to happen.

“Fuck, I didn’t think this through,” you mumbled.

“Yeah, you tend to do that,” a deep voice answered on your right. Instead of being the slightest bit surprised, you couldn’t help but smile. You’d know that voice anywhere.

“Something I can do for you, Barnes?” You looked up at him from under your lashes.

“Well, it looks like you’ve got an extra shot there. Thought I could bail you out.”

“Is that all?”

Bucky shifted so that your arms were just barely touching. His hand was right next to yours, and you reached out with your pinky to lightly brush his.

“Doll, you have the gall to show up in that dress and ask what I want as if you don’t already know?”

“Sorry Buck, I’m a little slow, must be the tequila. You should probably be a little clearer.”

Putting on quite the show of reaching for one of the shots, his mouth somehow ended up right next to your ear.

“I want you.”

It was lucky everyone was so distracted and couldn’t see how you shuddered at his words. Trying to maintain brain function, you managed to take the shot with him. You were now fully facing each other. He was wearing the cockiest smirk you’d ever seen, one that would put Tony Stark to shame. You couldn’t help but respond with that same energy despite the jitteriness his three little words had reduced you to.

“Well why don’t you—”

“Hello, my friends!” A booming voice sounded between you as Thor threw a huge arm over each of you. Bucky, with his stupid super soldier strength, didn’t really have a reaction to it. You, on the other hand, stumbled a little under the weight and force of it. “It’s so good to be back with you tiny humans.”

Was…was he slurring his words?

“Thor…are you drunk right now?”

He simply laughed in response. Well, that answered that.

“Of course I am, tiny person! It can’t be a party without good Asgardian wine.”

“Wait…you have literal god wine?” Bucky, who had a look of vague irritation on his face up to this point, now looked interested. Maybe even a little excited?

“Of course, metal appendage.”

“Dude, you can’t just call Bucky ‘metal appendage’—”

“He can if he lets me have some,” Bucky interrupted.

“We have a bargain!” Thor slapped Bucky on the back before scurrying back over to where he had come from, probably to get the wine he had promised.

“Bucky, you can’t even get drunk,” you hissed, “what exactly is the point of this?”

“Since everything happened, I haven’t found any alcohol strong enough to get me drunk. I figure god wine is worth a shot.”

“Bucky—”

“When I kiss you against a wall later, I wanna be a little tipsy,” he whispered in your ear, “that cool with you?”

Unable to keep yourself from smiling again, you nodded as Thor sauntered back over. Ever since that moment a few weeks ago, right before he kissed you for the first time, asking “is that cool with you?” had become your thing.

And the idea of Bucky kissing you against a wall? Yeah, that sounded pretty good.

***

As it turns out, Asgardian wine is just as potent as Thor had promised.

For the first time in over seventy years, Bucky Barnes was certifiably drunk. It made him feel like the Bucky from all those years ago, and it was the most incredible thing. Here he was, over 100 years old, partying, and all his favorite people were here.

Including his ridiculously hot girlfriend.

Even as they both flitted around the party, Bucky and y/n still found each other’s eyes, even from across the room. They would send winks, smiles, even funny faces. All he wanted to do was be right next to her, talk and dance with her all night…

But they had agreed. They wanted to keep their relationship a secret for now, keep the attention off of them for a bit while they got to know each other in this new way.

But god damn, that dress.

Y/n in red was…indescribable. It didn’t matter what she wore, she was always the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. But in red? In this dress?

She was breathtaking.

“Buck, you breathing?”

A hand waved in front of his face, snapping Bucky’s attention back to the people around him from Y/n’s back. He had been imagining putting his hands all over that back later and had gotten more than a little mesmerized. He managed to get his eyes to refocus, finding a drunk Sam smirking right next to him and an even drunker Steve dancing next to him. But what Steve was doing couldn’t really be called ‘dancing’ per say…more like an aggressive wiggle.

“Why wouldn’t I be breathing?” Of all the things he could’ve said to get Sam’s attention off of him, that wasn’t it.

“Uh, probably because the girl you’re in love with decided to show up and show off tonight? Pretty sure you’re drooling, man.”

Despite himself, Bucky slapped a hand across his mouth, only reducing Sam to wheezing laughter. Knowing he had been caught, he rolled his eyes and grimaced a little. Of all the people to catch him, he wished it hadn’t been Sam.

“I wasn’t…staring… at y/n, I just never see her dressed up is all.”

“I never said anything about the girl being y/n.”

“…fuck.”

“LANGUAGE,” Steve yelled out, pointing a finger at his two friends before returning to his shimmying.

Turning back to him, Sam added, “Just go be with her, Buck. You’re not fooling anyone, and neither is she.”

“We’re that obvious?”

“A few weeks ago you’d at least try to hide it. Now I’m surprised you’re not jumping each other’s bones right here right now.”

“Point taken,” Bucky said, lightly slapping Sam’s shoulder before power walking over to his girl.

***

“Nat, if you don’t stop asking about Bucky and I’s relationship, I’m going to kick you,” you called over the music before taking another swig from your glass. It was no Asgardian wine, but the human stuff wasn’t half bad in your opinion. It wasn’t like you could drink the god shit, anyway. If you had even one sip, you’d be swinging from the ceiling like Miley fucking Cyrus. You were pretty drunk as it was.

“Okay, fine,” she said with a shrug as she took a sip of her whiskey, still as calm and collected as ever. “You’re almost as drunk as he is, you’ll be talking soon enough.”

“Oh? Is that your spy master plan?”

Natasha was still looking as unbothered as ever, but as she looked across the room over your shoulder, her face split into a savage grin.

“It was, but it looks like I might not need it.”

“What do you me—”

Your words were cut off as a large, warm hand enclosed around yours. Whirling around, you were suddenly face to face with the man himself. Bucky was clearly having a good time. His mouth was relaxed into the cutest smile you’d ever seen him wear, and he moved without his normal stiffness and intensity. He threaded your fingers together, smiling down at you with so much love it was a wonder Nat hadn’t said anything yet.

Looking back in front of you, ready to explain yourself, you only found empty air. Guess she’d seen all she needed to, but honestly, you really didn’t care. All you’d wanted the whole night was to be exactly where you were right now; hand in hand with the man you loved.

“We’re just kidding ourselves, doll,” Bucky called next to your ear, “Sam said we’ve been pretty obvious.”

“Nat said the same,” you answered with a sheepish smile, “kind of hard to keep my face under control when you’ve got that leather jacket on.”

“You’re blaming me?” He asked with mock indignation. “You’re the one who looks,” he gestured wildly to your whole body, “like that!”

Trying ignore the heat spreading over your cheeks, you shot back, “Like what?”

“Like the most…” he screwed his face up in the most adorable way as he searched for words, “like the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” As the last few words tumbled out of his mouth, he gazed at you with such a softness you almost melted right into the floor.

“Wanna get out of here?” You asked, finally giving up the game. It was pointless, really. Now, all you wanted to do was for your boyfriend to keep his promise and kiss you against a wall.

Wrapping an arm around your waist, he answered, “Absolutely.” Without looking at a single soul, the two of you began walking as quickly as you could for the exit. You and Bucky were both leaning on each other a bit, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Stepping out into the light of the hallway, you blinked as your eyes adjusted after the dark room you’d spent the last few hours in. Bucky led you until you were right in front of the elevator, and he lazily pressed the button to go up. There was tension in the air between you, like a thread that was being pulled. Biting your lip, you stared at the doors in front of you. You knew if you so much as looked at the man next to you, you’d jump him right then and there.

The shining doors slid open, and the pair of you walked in, his strong arm still around your waist. His grip wasn’t loose in any sense of the word. Bucky kept you right next to him, even as your legs wanted to drift all over the place. You pressed the button for the residential floor.

As soon as those doors slid shut, that thread of tension snapped.

Bucky whirled you to face him, then walked you backward until you were pressed against the wall of the elevator.

“I promised I’d kiss you against the wall, didn’t I?”

He didn’t even wait for a response. His mouth was on yours in an instant, lips moving together like a dance. The kiss was slow and unhurried. You tried to bring him closer, linking your hands behind his neck and pressing yourself to him. Instead of responding in kind, he unwound your arms from around him and pinned them above your head.

Oh damn.

Okay.

No complaints here.

“You’ve been teasin’ me all night just by wearing that dress, sweetheart,” he murmured in between the kisses he trailed down your jaw, “I think it’s my turn.”

“Would it change your mind knowing I only wore this dress so you could take it off?”

The heat that bloomed in those blue eyes of his was unmistakable. As the doors opened on your floor, he swept you up into his arms and began to walk purposefully to his apartment. All the while, he kept that signature cocky smirk of his you’d come to adore.

“Bucky?” You asked once he’d walked into his unit.

“That sentence was the single most attractive thing you’ve ever said,” he murmured as he set you down. Even still, he kept you pressed against him. “But nah, I’m a patient guy. I think I’ll take my time.” He followed this by resuming his slow and sensual kisses, and you couldn’t help but melt into them.

“I love you,” you whispered against his lips.

“I’ll never get tired of hearing that, doll. I love you too.”

***

[bloodstained-ballgowns]

Things I Loved About Black Widow (2021).

*Spoilers*

Yes it’s been almost two weeks since release. Yes I’ve seen it almost three times now. Yes, all my thoughts are still a jumble. Somewhat ordering them for this post will be difficult.

Honestly, the entire first 53 minutes of this movie is perfect to me. Everything about it. The dialogue, the action, the way it’s able to convey so much without words, how it’s just Natasha, Yelena and Mason, everything is just *chef’s kiss*. (This isn’t to say the remaining 1hr 21mins is bad, it’s just not as perfect as the first act imo)

I have a thing for scores and god bless Lorne Balfe he really understood the assignment on this one. If you haven’t already, take a few minutes to listen to his composition, specifically ‘Natasha’s Lullaby’. I love when you can hear a story in music and I think this score does that really effectively.

Nat speaking Russian! Nat speaking Russian! The way she reverts back to it in the opening scene when she’s scared! I wish we’d gotten more of it honestly, especially in the family dinner scene, even something as simple as ‘pass the salt’.

Also, her Russian accent in the Budapest flashback! It was quiet but definitely there, and it showed that her American one was something she had to train herself back into once she defected, which I appreciated.

“I stashed that like five years ago” Is this a canon hint that Nat hoards her food? Maybe?! I’ll take what I can get to satisfy my headcanons thanks.

Natasha and Yelena’s fight sequence in the apartment is the best fight scene in the movie. No arguments.

So much of my inner monolgue while watching was just ‘imsogayimsogayimsogay”. That much leather and that many piercings??! The BRAIDS?? This movie is for the wlws.

Mason you absolute icon I love how much you care about Natasha I love that you’re sleeping everywhere because same. (You deserved better than to be a Taskmaster misdirect). Please turn up in more MCU properties as Yelena’s contact or something.

“But you’re not a mouse, Melina. You were just born in a cage, but that’s not your fault.” THIS LINE!!!

AND THIS ONE. “You took my childhood, you took my choices and tried to break me. But you’re never gonna do that to anybody ever again.” The emphasis on choice vs children, how it’s always been about bodily autonomy instead of the romanticised horror of sterilisation that Whedon went with. 

“I never let myself be alone long enough to think about it.” I GASPED.

HONOURABLE MENTION: “You didn’t work in the shadows, you hid in the dark,” (or something). There’s something really satisfying about that line. 

Everything about this film is so inherently female, I love it when things don’t reek of testosterone.

I’ve heard some critics say this movie felt really ‘isolated’ and ‘disconnected’ from the rest of the MCU because of the time jump and how many new characters there were and I have to hard disagree there. The appearance of Secretary Ross, name-dropping Tony Stark, and the continued references to the Avengers were not only realistic but also really cemented this oneshot in-universe for me. 

*cue me flapping my hands and opening another draft because every separate point is eliciting another two paragraphs of analysis that I absolutely cannot include on this post or it will never end*. Man I love this movie. See the read-more because this is getting longgg.

Similarly, how it actually carries through on a lot of previous set up, mostly from Avengers 1, like with ‘Dreykov’s daughter’ and “thank you for your co-operation”. I got very nervous when they announced they were going to tackle Budapest because a) I didn’t think anything they came up with would ever live up to the hype people gave that line so it would only end in disappointment and b) I’ve never particularly cared, to be honest. (it was a throwaway line in Avengers 1 that was repeated for nostalgia in Endgame in a context that now makes no sense, forgive me for being indifferent) but I actually loved how it tied everything together.

The way it reclaims her from every male creator that’s handled her (fuck the Russos and M&M) while simultaneously keeping the best of what they managed to foster (again, Avengers 1 is a heavy influence, and rightly so, but it gives a fat middle finger to AOU, also rightly so).

How competent Nat was shown to be without being unbeatable. She fully got her ass handed to her a couple of times, and yes, it’s very unrealistic that she was able to go through two car accidents, fall off that bridge, out of that window and then out of the sky without being seriously injured, but we finally got to see the physical manifestations of some of that pain! She was holding her ribs when she got out of the water, the bruises on her back, the dislocated shoulder, and the blood splatters were actual splatters when she broke her nose rather than delicate dabs.

This might be an unpopular one, because I know this was what a lot of people were expecting more of, but I was glad Natasha’s youth in the Red Room was confined to the opening credits. The aftermath of that training and Natasha as a product of it has always been more fascinating to me than the actual event.

As an older sister myself, the dynamic between Natasha and Yelena really struck home for me. Yelena’s pride in Nat and need for approval and validation from Natasha in conflict with realising Nat’s flaws, wrestling with her disappointment, seeing how human Nat is, were perfectly portrayed by Florence Pugh. I could completely relate to Nat, who, despite trying to convince herself otherwise, couldn’t fight her fierce protective instinct and specific brand of unconditional love that only an older sister will ever feel. 

A diverse set of Widows!

I was pleasantly surprised at the amount of comics references in this movie. The frame where she jumped through the fire from the Waid/Samnee run, the pheromonal lock.

Now I have my problems with Scarlett Johansson, but I came out of this movie with a lot of respect and a little bit of pride in her. It’s clear that she put her everything into this movie, both as an actor and executive producer. She obviously cares immensely about Nat and how she’s portrayed, and it’s clear from interviews that the things she loves and finds fascinating about Nat are the same as the fans. (I also feel a little bit sorry for the way she’s getting brushed over in the coverage in favour of a new and shiny Florence Pugh, so this is me expressing some ScarJo-as-Natasha appreciation).

A big question I had going in was, ‘Natasha’s always reflecting the people around her, but what’s she like when she’s alone, and has only her own mind for company?’ and this movie really answered that for me. Seeing her out of her suit and wearing clothes that were for her, not for a cover or a mission, seeing her drink beer and eat ice cream and let her hair dry while watching a Bond film she’s obviously seen many times before, it was all perfect. The scenes in the caravan were a huge step for humanising women in action movies. 

I’ll probably be adding to this post a lot because this movie will not leave my mind and new things are occurring to me at the most random points. 

See my ‘Things I...didn’t like as much about Black Widow’ post here.

[mrslilyrogers]

All I have to do is Dream Part 2

Pairing: Steve x Reader, Telepath! Reader (X-men reader)

Summary: It’s been five years since the snap. You and Steve are stuck at an impasse. You want a family, he doesn’t. He says he’s moved on but has he really? With your doubts growing, you consider risking his trust and use your powers on him to get your answers once and for all.

Author’s note: I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it before but reader here has studied at the Xavier Institute so she’s basically part of the X-men. You don’t have to read the comics or watch their movies, it is just part of her background. This is based on Endgame and would follow its progression. If you want to be tagged, please send an ask!! Thank you all for reading!!! 

Part 1 

Steve’s jaw twitched, his throat muscles working, eyes never leaving the photo on his phone. He pursed his lips and let out a huge exhale, running a hand on his face. What the hell had you done?

Nat didn’t question when he came back to the compound late last night nor when he didn’t show up the morning after, only learning from F.R.I.D.A.Y, he was up earlier than his usual and left. He came back a few hours ago, sweaty and gruff, immediately rushing to lock himself up at the gym. Wallowing there until now. 

She had known Steve long enough to know he was blowing off steam. She knew better than to pry, letting him keep to himself until he was ready to talk, and Steve was glad for it. Glad he still had one friend who cared. 

What the hell had you done? 

—————————-

You jolted from the bed, Steve’s eyes drilling holes in your direction from where he sat stiffly beside you, his mouth pressed into a thin disapproving line. If only looks could kill. You had never seen him so angry in your life. His breath coming in rapid pants, his fists clenched tight at his sides, the muscles around his neck and arms bulging. You felt naked under his gaze, bared to the soul with nowhere to hide. Ironic when just a few moments ago, you had breached into his mind, violating his privacy to the utmost. 

“Y/N,” he said, deathly low and lethal, a warning. 

“Steve, I’m sorry I didn’t know--” you scrambled to your feet, panic rising up to your throat, cheeks wet with tears. 

“Bullshit!” He roared, not letting you finish, shooting up to his feet like the soldier he was. His tightly coiled temper finally unleashed. “You went inside my head! Don’t you fucking give me any excuses!”

In his anger, he threw the analog clock from his bedside table to the floor, breaking it into tiny pieces instantly, the sound of it cracking and your crying the only things filling the air. You didn’t recognize the sobs coming from you, not even knowing if it was from what you’ve just discovered or the way he looked at you now. As if he didn’t know you, as if he could never trust you again. 

“I’m sorry,” was all you said. And you were. In every sense of the word. Sorry for yourself, sorry for what you’ve learned, sorry for what you’ve done. 

“How could you do this to me?” Steve asked, disbelieving. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just… I overheard you at grief counseling--”

“You what?” He hissed, eyes incredulous and accusing. “Are you fucking spying on me now?” he pointed his finger at you, circling the bed to stand in front of you, his steps quick and long. He looked like he did on missions. One purpose, ready to attack. It was a miracle he kept his fists at his sides instead of shaking you. 

“NO! No, I was waiting outside and I heard what you said, and it’s made me think…” 

“No, you didn’t think! I told you time and time again, I love you. What more do you fucking need?” His voice grew even louder, exasperation and impatience seeping out of him as if he had been putting up with you for so long.

What more do you need? What more do you need?

“The truth, Steve! I just wanted to know the truth!” You answered back, voice rising in return. The whole time you thought you were only being paranoid, insecure, blaming it on yourself when you weren’t wrong all along. He still wanted her. Yearned for her. 

“And are you happy now? You happy that you’ve forced it out of me?” Steve’s tone turned mocking, his eyes hard and jaw tensed. No denial, no guilt. He baited you and if he had enough presence of mind, he wouldn’t have said that, wouldn’t have deliberately gone out of his way to cut you deep. But right at this moment, all he saw was red. He wanted to hurt you, to punch, to scream. His hands shook, in the need to destroy something, to fight someone. Fists bringing out what he couldn’t put forth into words. He knew he had to leave. 

You flinched from his words as if you’ve been physically slapped. Eyes full of hurt, you were speechless, immobilized to the spot, no other choice but to take it all in and watch him as he bristled past you, heading to the direction of your shared closet, grabbing his duffel bag and stuffing it with whatever he could get his hands on. 

“Wait, where are you going?” your voice was small, hands shaking while you clutched the end of your shirt. 

“I can’t even look at you right now,” 

“So is this it? Is that all you have to say?” You pleaded, a part of you still hoping he’d deny everything you saw. That it was just all it ever was, a dream. A fantasy from another life. That it didn’t mean anything. That he’d pick you, the one who was here, someone he could actually build a future with. Over a dead woman, a woman who belonged to another decade, another lifetime. 

“Since you’re so good at getting into people’s minds, why don’t you tell me?” He taunted, turning his back to you, roughly shoving his toiletries in his bag.

“That’s not fair, Steve!” 

“Fair? You want to talk about being fair when you broke my trust! You promised, Y/N. Does that only mean something when it’s convenient to you?” He turned around this time, nostrils flaring, finger pointing offensively at you again. You were so close to him now, could practically feel the heat radiating off his body. And you were scared. You were scared to lose him. Because you knew whatever happened tonight couldn’t be reversed. The things he said, the things you did, there was no going around it anymore. 

“Do you want me to say I don’t love Peggy anymore, is that it? Is that what you wanna hear? Because I can’t. I still love her!” His voice boomed around you, shaking you to your core. Fresh, hot tears trailed down your cheeks. You were helpless. Broken. 

As soon as the words left him, he knew he’d regret it. At the way you looked, so small and vulnerable, hugging your arms to your chest, his eyes softened,  “Y/N…” he moved towards you, hands out to comfort you but you backed away. 

Shaking your head vehemently, you took another step back. You didn’t want his touch, didn’t want him near you. 

“No, no. Don’t.” you stayed a hand up to stop him. “It’s alright. You’re right,” 

“Y/N, that’s not--” 

“I think you should leave.” you pointed to the bag already in his hand. Your resolve, sure and strong. 

“Y/N, I didn’t--” he tried again, shaking his head. How could he take those words back? Did he not mean them too? God help him but he loved them both. 

“Steve, please stop. Just stop. Don’t make this any harder than it already is,” you pleaded, not knowing what else he wanted from you. You gave him an out; clear and easy. Wasn’t that enough? Did he have to hurt you even more?

“I shouldn’t have said those things,” He let out on a sigh, shaking his head. “But sweetheart, please don’t look at me like that,” You looked like a terrified deer, ready to run at the first sign of danger and he couldn’t bear that it was directed at him. He could handle your tenacity, your fire, anything else but the defeated look on your face. It made his heart ache.

He tried again, speaking gently, “Y/N, if you want me to leave for the night, I will. I think you might be right, we need some space after this, clear our heads,” 

This time, he went near you and you let him, you let his hands hold your arms like he’s done in past arguments. You let him look you straight in the eye like he’s done so many times before. You let him say his piece, already knowing where it was headed like the back of your hand. You operated like this. Clockwork. When one pushed, the other shoved. 

One last time. 

“But promise me you’ll be here in the morning to talk. You went inside my head, Y/N, but I wanna work through this. I love you,” he said it like he meant it, his heart on his sleeve but you weren’t so sure you believed him anymore. 

“You know I love you, right?” He asked just like the last time. Clockwork. 

No. I don’t. 

You nodded your head. 

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

He tossed and turned that night, the look of hurt on your face scarred in his memory. He knew he shouldn’t have left, knew he should’ve fought to stay.

It was true that he was furious but any animosity he felt immediately simmered after the mention of Peggy. He was way out of line. He wanted to apologize, to pull you into his arms and kiss away the bitter words he spoke but he was still so shaken about what you had done, what you had seen, and so he figured he should let it rest first, giving you both time and space to calm down. Everything looked better in the morning, right? 

But your face came unbidden in his mind, he could still remember the exact moment you closed yourself off to him, your eyes hauntingly empty and hollow, shoulders hunched, arms instinctively wrapped to yourself. So small and vulnerable. 

He should’ve stayed, dammit! 

He let out a grunt as he stared up at the ceiling. He still couldn’t believe you used your abilities on him, couldn’t believe you’d go so far when you’d never ever shied away from asking him anything. Heck, you’d basically proposed to him with all your nagging of starting a family.

Why did you have to see that?

He hissed and shook his head, guilt gnawing in his stomach. Your power was able to force out his deepest dreams and desires. But was that the whole truth? If he hadn’t woken up and you’d stuck a little longer then you would’ve known just how scared and confused he was. What you saw was the Steve who still clung to the past, the part of him that wanted to go back, yearned to go back because it was safer, it was where he truly belonged. 

But then again, he wasn’t that same man anymore, was he? Not fully anyway. In more ways than one, he had moved on. For the past couple of years, he did, in fact, envision a future with you. He was going to propose until the snap happened and then, everything changed. He saw his friends, his family, gone to dust. He could still hear Bucky’s echoing words, calling out to him. All those lost souls vanished as if they never existed while he stood, helpless and useless. Why spare him again? Why did he have to go through it all again? Didn’t he have enough pain and loss in one lifetime? 

And so he started thinking of the past. The good ol’ days, if you could even really call it that. It started out as a tiny flicker of curiosity. You both had just found a new apartment in New York, it wasn’t all that hard with the sudden vacancies. You were standing in the middle of the room, hands on your hips while he sat at the edge of the bed his head bowed, elbows resting on his knees. 

“Steve, we need to start thinking of the future. I know it’s hard but they’re not coming back and we can’t keep doing what we’re doing. We can get away from all this, you know, start a new life. Don’t you want that too?”

He swallowed a lump in his throat. He wanted to fight, to try again and again until he got everyone back. He was grieving, angry, and above all, guilty. Why couldn’t he do what he was made for in the first place? How did he let all of this happen? And why, for god’s sake, why did he have to survive while the others vanished?

But you were right. Of course, you were right. The ever practical and optimistic you. He looked at you with tired eyes, not wanting to argue, and nodded his head. He still had you, that was a win. For every shitty thing that happened since, at least you were alive and he wouldn’t trade that for the world but some jaded, cynical part of him questioned how long that would last. The universe clearly had a bone to pick with him and it was only a matter of time before you were taken from him too and that scared the living shit out of him.  

And so he had started to wonder what if?

What if he never had to wake up from the ice? What if he never had to crash the plane in the first place? What if he was where he was really supposed to be? 

All those questions drifted down into one person, the one that got away. Peggy.  She was his link to the past, everything that was sweet and wonderful. The dance he missed, the future he wanted when everything settled down into peace after the war. Peace. As ironic as that sounded, she reminded him of peace. The little dream he had in the back of his head whenever he infiltrated a nazi base camp. Every mission, every fight, he would think one more of this and the war would be over, one more and I get back to her. Peace. 

He craved for that peace so much, he didn’t even realize what he had been doing. He lived in that dream, longing for the time he could never get back. All the while you were hurting, so desperately trying to cling on to him while he slipped into himself. You needed him but he continued to chase the life he lost, for all his talk of moving on. He didn’t even realize how his fear of losing you has led him down to the very verge of it and now, he was anxious and afraid. So so afraid. You wouldn’t leave him, would you? God, he’d do anything, drop everything, to follow you.

That realization just made his head spin, was he really willing to let everything go just like that? Of course, he was. There was no question about it. Nothing else mattered if it meant losing you. It was a damned shame he only realized that now. 

We can work through this, he thought to himself. He couldn’t let you go, wouldn’t let you go. It didn’t even matter what you had done anymore, not right now, not when all he wanted was for you to know everything, that above all, he was choosing you. He loves you. 

I’ll make this work. We’ll make this work. 

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

He stared at his friend’s face, her red hair already outgrowing the blonde curls that framed her frowning face. She couldn’t believe it. Hell, even he didn’t believe it. How could you? 

--

Before the sun had even risen, he was already up, tying his shoelaces with his jittery hands. He had never been so nervous in his life. Not even when he had to crash his own plane, with that came a sense of doom and certainty but this? This was torture. This was hell. 

What was he going to say? How was he going to explain himself? What could he do to make you stay?

What you had done the night before, invading his most private thoughts, had been pushed to the side. In his heart, he had already forgiven you, understood why you had to do what you did. He knew you, the kind of person you were and you would never have done it had you not thought it was necessary. And with everything that he’s done and what you heard, could he really judge you for it? 

He rushed into the apartment, his heart already heavy. He couldn’t find it in himself to wait until you woke up and instead gave a tentative, “Y/N?” as he poked his head into the bedroom door, the sight of it knocking the air right out of him. 

No, no, no, no, no. 

The neatly made up bed greeted him, curtains drawn back to illuminate the empty room. His heart dropped to his stomach, “No, no, no, no, no,” 

“Y/N?” he shouted into the room, somehow hoping he was mistaken, that you were still here, that you’d show up. 

Did you really leave him? Could you really have done that?

He ran to the bathroom, calling out to you, but it was the same as he had left it. Except all of your stuff was gone. Your toiletries by the sink, all the little hair ties you kept lying around. Gone. 

How could you do this to him? How could you leave without saying goodbye? 

All the clothes he had always folded for you after you tossed them in the closet weren’t there anymore. Any trace of you was now gone. He let out a curse, his cold hand fumbling for his phone in his pocket. No messages, no calls.

“Come on, pick up,” He prayed into the phone. Please, please, please. When the monotonous operator answered, he let out a shout,

“Fuck!” 

Throwing his phone unto the bed, he realized even the clock he had thrown in his temper had been cleaned away, a letter laid down on where it was supposed to be. 

He picked it up quickly, his breathing rapid at the two simple words scrawled in your distinct handwriting. 

I’m sorry. 

Crumbling the paper in his fist, he shakily put it to his pale lips. Breathe...

What were you thinking? You couldn’t have even left a number to contact you? How was he supposed to find you now? He felt himself grow weak in the knees. He knew the type of training you had with the X-men, if you didn’t want to found, you wouldn’t. 

Had he lost you forever? 

Hands shaking at the thought, he ran. Ran to get away from his emotions. Lost, angry and hurt. What the hell had you done? 

What the hell had you done?

--

Natasha let out an exhale, bringing him out of his reverie. The look of hurt still evident on her face, she couldn’t believe you’d just leave without saying goodbye.

“If there’s one thing I know is that she loves you. You need to fix this, Steve,” 

Before he could even reply, the front gate’s access flashed before her. Mindlessly swiping it, they both turned to the monitor, their minds still preoccupied on where you could be. The man standing outside, waving his arms about looked eerily familiar but that couldn’t be...

Scott Lang?

Oh god, what now?