#i'm rewriting winter soldier

[waynes-multiverse]

Time After Time – Chapter 3

Summary: Unable to control your abilities, you’re stuck in the present with Billy Butcher, his team, and America’s first asshole. At this point, you’ve become Soldier Boy’s personal punching bag. But when an accident leaves you stranded in 1942, you run into a familiar face and suddenly rely on your future tormentor’s help as your only hope.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x supe!Reader

Warnings: 18+ for language, angst, humor, reader is a supe with chronokinesis (time manipulation), 1942 says hi, fluffier, SB being a nice and kind human, rewrite of a S3 scene, drinking, lots of daddy issues to unpack here 😂

Word Count: 7.3k

Posted on Patreon March 14, 2025

A/N: This is where the word count slowly began to crawl upwards from this point on. I never had the patience for descriptions, but I tried challenging myself more with it recently. Hopefully, you'll get the feeling and vibe of the mansion I was going for. Might I have overdone it a little? Maybe. But I hope you still enjoy the picture I was trying to paint here ☺️

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Chapter 3: I'm Going To Be a Lady If It Kills Me

The thick, plush leather seats of the Cadillac provided you with warmth, the heater working on overdrive to fend off the chill outside. As you passed through the rolling countryside of fancy suburbs, your gaze drifted out the window, snow swirling around the vehicle. Streetlights with icicles cast a warm, yellow glow on the road, the snow piling up in drifts around the edges.

The car glided past grand stone homes with icy window panes and leafless trees stretching heavenward before the sight of the biggest mansion on the street came into view. You had a feeling this was the place and swallowed thickly.

Jesus fuck, were you going to the mansion of the fucking Count of Monte Christo?

The wrought-iron gates then swung open on creaking hinges, framed by soaring stone pillars at the entrance, and opened to a long, imposing driveway. The mansion itself was a monument to another era with its stately presence, every inch of the house whispering of wealth and distinction. The façade was a patchwork of sandstone and intricate brickwork, crowned with arched, ornate windows. Much like its inhabitants, the mansion stood like a silent sentinel – stoic, intimidating, and cold against the winter’s breath.

Ben had remained quiet the whole drive, letting you enjoy the view in peace. But as the Cadillac came to a stop, he rounded the front of the car and hopped to your side, the soft crunch of his boots mingling with the low hum of the wind as he opened the door for you.

The soft glow of antique lanterns by the mansion’s entrance flickered in the breeze and beckoned you to step closer as you followed him to the stunningly carved, mahogany front door with slightly tarnished brass handles.

Patiently, he held the door open for you, gauging your reaction as you stood frozen on the snowy ground of the stone porch and blinked inside the dark and looming foyer. A smile flashed on his lips at your hesitance. “You coming in or what?”

“Uh-huh, I think so…”

With that, you stepped inside, and as the solid front door closed behind you, you could feel the panic rise in your chest again. Oh God, what had you done? This felt like a big fucking mistake – like saying yes to a dinner invitation at Hannibal Lecter’s place.

I always thought if I were to kill you, I would have to do it in some dramatic fashion, but then I thought, no, I’ll simply tear your head off and bury it under the house.

Shit, you hoped you got to keep your head as an eerie shiver ran down your spine.

Your worn sneakers were contrastingly planted on the sparkling marble floors as your eyes darted around the entrance, a grand staircase sweeping up to the second floor. You heard the soft crackle of fire on the hearth, the scents of wood polish and winter flowers in vases wafting through the air.

The scene was one of old money, long-established class. There was nothing hasty or modern about it. Everything spoke of a life built not just on wealth, but on tradition – on the quiet, assured certainty that the past would never be forgotten, and the future, no matter how uncertain, would always be shaped by the grandness of what had come before.

And granted, it explained a few things about the grumpy fossil you’d come to know. Mostly why he felt so out of place all the time – because he fucking was.

You still stood rooted to the spot, your breath coming in shallow bursts as your mind raced. Ben – your future captor, the one you’d been trying to escape for what felt like forever – was now playing the gracious host in his historical mansion like nothing was wrong. The fire crackled behind you like a ticking bomb, its warmth a stark contrast to the icy tension running through your veins. You forced yourself to exhale, but the air felt thick, as though the house itself was holding its breath – watching you.

Ben’s footsteps echoed in the grand foyer as he moved to the fireplace, pushing logs into place. His broad back turned toward you as he crouched, adjusting the fire, the warmth from the flames briefly dispelling some of the chill that had settled in your bones. But you couldn’t shake the unease twisting in your gut.

He hadn’t spoken yet, but you knew he was watching you through the corner of his eye, waiting for something – waiting for you to either make a run for it, or for the mask to slip and show that you weren’t as calm as you seemed.

But you had to keep your secret. You couldn’t risk him knowing the truth. You were just a stranger to him, and as far as Ben knew, you’d stumbled out of thin air – no past, no future, no real identity.

“Well,” he said finally, breaking the quiet with that low, measured tone of his, “I’m assuming you’re here for more than just the weather. You’ve got a lot on your mind, sweetheart?”

His words, though polite, were edged with something you couldn’t quite place. Curiosity, maybe? You couldn’t tell, but you weren’t about to let him pry too much.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, your voice almost too sharp, betraying your nerves. “I just need a minute to... adjust.”

Ben gave you a long, considering look, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he could see past the walls you were building. It felt like he was evaluating you, weighing every tiny shift in your expression. You weren’t sure how much you were giving away, but you didn’t like it.

“Well, uhm, whatever you’re running from, you’re safe here,” he said softly, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than was comfortable.

“Like I said, I’m not gonna stay long. I’ll leave by tomorrow morning. I don’t wanna be a burden,” you replied cordially. Admittedly, you could care less if you burdened him with your visit, but there were other, more important, variables in play you had to consider.

By now, you knew he’d remember you for sure. There was no way around it, but until you had figured out how to leave again, you were stuck with him. This wasn’t supposed to happen. The timeline was fragile – too fragile – and the longer you stayed, the more at risk it was.

However, you knew you could fix it somehow. Not only would you have to get your powers magically working again, but you’d also have to travel back to the starting point a few hours ago when you arrived in this era and stop yourself from running into Ben in the first place. The current version of you would cease to exist, but your other past version could easily return to her own time.

Yes, a fucking simple, straightforward plan without any complications in sight. Time travel is so fucking easy…

Ben’s lips then quirked upward in that faint, knowing smile again. “A burden? You’re hardly a burden, sweetheart. I know this might all seem a bit... overwhelming. That’s part of the charm, I suppose. You can’t come from something like this and not carry a little weight with you… But you’re welcome here. Make yourself comfortable, alright?”

You still didn’t trust the kindness in his voice. It sounded too practiced, like a well-rehearsed speech. It was hard to tell if he was being sincere or just trying to play the role of the gracious host.

“I-, uh, I appreciate that. Thank you,” you managed, still on edge, but unable to ignore the pull of the fire’s warmth – and his.

Ben’s eyes softened, just a little, but there was still that sharpness to them, like he could see straight through your act. He then waved toward the stairs with a calm gesture of his hand. “If you’d like, I’ll show you to your room. We can talk more once you’ve had a chance to settle. And maybe we can–” He paused, considering his next words carefully. Then, as if dismissing it, he finished, “Maybe we can talk about what brought you here.”

You knew what he meant. He was fucking fishing. Trying to draw you out. Trying to find out just who you were. But it was too dangerous. You couldn’t slip up – not when you still had no idea what kind of game he was playing.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure. “Yeah,” you said finally, your voice low as you forced a smile. Be like Grace, Betty and Sheila. “I think I’d like that.”

You hoped it didn’t sound too much like a lie because it was. And if you weren’t careful, it might just be your downfall.

Ben didn’t seem to notice the tension in your tone. With another smile, he turned and led you up the steps and down a long hallway, his footsteps steady and confident as they echoed in the hollow quiet, but there was an undercurrent to his pace – like he wanted to fill the silence but didn’t quite know how.

You followed reluctantly, already planning your next move in your head. You weren’t sure what this was yet. But you knew you had to stay one step ahead, or risk losing everything.

The sprawling mansion stretched out before you like a labyrinth, every hallway and every door telling a story of old wealth and expectations you had no interest in. The walls were lined with portraits, some regal, some faintly haunting, of men and women whose lives seemed to stretch back centuries, all looking down upon you with a silent, judgmental gaze.

The floor beneath your feet was cool as you moved deeper into the heart of the house. The atmosphere of the home – the heavy silence, the grand, dark walls – it was all too much. Too much for someone like you.

Someone who wasn’t supposed to belong here.

When you reached a door at the end of the corridor, Ben stopped and spun toward you, his face softening ever so slightly. “This is your room,” he said, his tone quieter now, more distant.

As he pushed open the door, the soft light from the hallway revealed a large, opulent space – dark wood furniture, a large bed covered in thick velvet curtains, a plush rug beneath your feet, and a tall bookshelf that looked like it hadn't been touched in years. It was a room designed for someone to feel both grand and small at once.

You nodded, stepping inside, and the weight of history seemed to settle on your shoulders the moment you crossed the threshold.

Ben kept his distance, not entering with you, but he waited in the doorway, watching you. “If you want to take a bath, there’s one through there,” he said, gesturing toward a door on the far wall.

You swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat. “Yeah, thanks. I’ll-... I’ll be fine.”

Ben’s gaze stayed on you a moment longer before he turned, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Take your time,” he said, his voice soft, almost tender. Then, without another word, he stepped back, leaving you alone in the vast silence of the room.

You watched him leave, the door falling into its lock behind him. The room felt suffocating now that you were finally alone. You walked over to the bed, running your hand over the fabric. This wasn’t your life. You didn’t belong here. And yet, for the first time in a while, you couldn’t ignore the tug of something real, the world you’d come from slowly starting to fade away.

It had happened before. The longer you had stayed in a time that wasn’t yours, the more twisted it had become, as if your brain was being reprogrammed by the universe itself.

Make yourself comfortable. 

You tried to shake it off. You weren’t supposed to get attached. Not now. Not ever.

You let out a slow breath, the tension of the day settling heavily on your shoulders. The bath sounded like a welcome escape, something to clear your mind.

It wasn’t just the layers of grime from the world you’d left behind that you wanted to wash off. No, it was the overwhelming weight of the timeline – of Ben – pressing down on you. You had to focus, think, plan. Your mission hadn’t changed, but the idea of him being so close, of having to act like this wasn’t a carefully calculated, life-or-death game of chess – it made your skin crawl.

After a few minutes, you made your way to the bathroom at last. The tub was a luxurious affair, deep and wide, its marble sides shimmering in the soft light of the room. You sank into it, the hot water enveloping you like a warm embrace. For a moment, you just allowed yourself to breathe, to let the noise in your mind quiet.

Home…

Still nothing. Your powers were refusing to entertain you. Sometimes, you thought they had a mind of their own – like the Time Lords themselves had possessed you and only used you as their tool whenever they pleased.

Your thoughts then drifted back to Ben – the guy you hated in your future, but who seemed like something altogether different now. Here, he wasn’t the monster you’d come to despise. He was kind, helpful, almost… charming. It unsettled you. How could someone be so different in two time periods?

When you finally rose from the bath, the water only lukewarm at this point, the weight of your decisions felt heavier than before. The towel around you, though soft, didn’t help. It only served to remind you that you had no real clothes here. Nothing was yours. You stared at yourself in the mirror, the reflection of a stranger in a foreign time. You didn’t want to put your old clothes back on after your refreshing and clean bath. They were wet, cold, and dirtied with mud.

Shit…

Reluctantly, you stepped into the hallway, unsure of how to ask, but the need to find something – anything – took over. It wasn’t like you could just wander around in a towel, although you were sure your host would probably appreciate the sight.

“Uhm, Ben?” you called softly, your tone a little shakier than you'd intended.

A few moments passed before his voice answered from down the hall, a bit too loud, as though he’d been waiting for this. “Yeah?”

“I-, uh, I don’t have... anything to wear,” you said quietly and swallowed, your gaze drifting to your bare feet on the floorboards.

There was a long pause before he appeared in the doorway, his face flushed. “Right. Well, I-... I can get you something,” he said. His eyes flicked to the floor for a moment before meeting yours again, the awkwardness hanging between you like a palpable thing that you could reach out and touch with your fingers. “I–” His voice dropped lower as he turned away for a second, his hand on the doorframe. He then gave a brief chuckle, almost self-conscious. “I don’t usually keep spare clothes for, uh, guests. But I’m sure I can find something that fits you. One second.”

You felt tethered to the ground as he disappeared down the hall, unsure whether to laugh or fucking scream. He came back a few moments later with a shirt and pants, an outfit clearly meant for a man, and you were pretty sure they were his own. The fit would be loose, but better than nothing.

“Here,” he said, offering it to you. His gaze lingered on you a second longer than was probably polite before he turned away again, his cheeks tinged pink.

Yeah, you had to get rid of the towel. You didn’t want to give him any ideas – or more, for that matter. He’d already seen you naked various times in the future. You knew privacy was an alien concept to that man.

“I’ll be in my father’s study downstairs if you need anything. If you want, you-, uh, you can meet me there.”

“Sure.” You nodded hesitantly and took the clothes, retreating into the guest room to change and debating whether or not to take him up on his invitation.

Did you really want to spend more time with this man?

But this particular timeline was already ruined. You’d have to fix it anyway, so why not take this opportunity to get to know the man behind the beast? You would finally know what made the monster tick like a bomb.

When you emerged, clad in Ben’s clothes – his white button-down shirt hanging loosely over your frame, the sleeves rolling up your arms as if you were drowning in it – you tried to ignore the strange flutter in your stomach. You couldn’t think about how the fabric smelled faintly of him – a new, alluring scent that didn’t reek of reefer and junk food.

The study was tucked into a quieter part of the house, one where the oppressive silence of the halls seemed to thin out a little. It was a warmly lit, intimate room filled with bookshelves that reached the ceiling, leather-bound volumes with forgotten stories. A fire burned quietly in the hearth, the crackling of the flames mixing with the soft ticking of a grandfather clock. Framed portraits lined the walls, and the weight of decades of family history hung like dust in the air.

Naturally, Ben was already behind the bar when you entered, mixing a drink with careful precision – a trait he shared with his older version.

Manhattan, you realized and remembered the story he had told Butcher once.

“Used to sneak my dad's Manhattans when I was a kid.” 

Ben didn’t look up when you entered. “I wasn’t sure you’d take me up on my offer,” he said, the deep baritone voice low and almost reflective, not quite like his earlier confidence. “I thought you might prefer to be alone.”

You shifted on your feet, unsure of how to approach him, but the pull of curiosity had led you here. The air smelled of whiskey, mahogany, and something more elusive – faded dreams, maybe?

The moment his piercingly green eyes met yours, his expression shifted – like something had clicked, but not in the way you expected. His gaze lingered on you again, wandering down your frame, his mouth slightly open, as if caught off guard. You’d seen a version of that look before many times, but this was… different.

“You-, uh, you look...” He cleared his throat, suddenly very aware of how close you were. “Different. But... good. It suits you.”

“Thanks,” you said, feeling exposed as you tugged nervously on your too-long sleeves. Had you just entered the fucking lion’s den?

Strangely, though, you began to feel more at ease, the longer you were around him.

“Maybe I should wear your clothes more often,” you quipped teasingly. If aggressive rudeness hadn’t worked to deter him, maybe forwardness would. A guy like him probably enjoyed the chase more than the prey.

Ben offered a tentative smile, his cheeks haunted by a blush. “Right, uhm... You want a drink? I can make you one, you know... to relax.”

And the eerie feeling is back…

You hid the goosebumps in the nape of your neck behind a polite smile. Relaxing wasn’t something you would ever do around this guy.

“I’m good.” You shook your head and cautiously strolled through the study, taking note of every framed picture and trinket in the room.

Ben shrugged, taking a sip from his tumbler before setting it down, the amber liquid catching in the light. “You sure? It’s not the best, but it’ll do. It’s a Manhattan. My father’s favorite. Thought I’d try to get it right for once.”

“You don’t have to get it right for him,” you said without thinking, the talk with Butcher from that night trickling back into your mind.

Ben’s eyes flickered with something close to surprise, but the smile never left his face. He swirled his glass absently, looking out the window as the wind howled outside. “Maybe not. But I keep trying anyway...”

“It's all bullshit,” Soldier Boy had scoffed after telling Butcher the plot line of the autobiographical movie Vought had produced for him – The Soldier Boy Story.

“Blimey, you don’t say?” Butcher hadn’t seemed the least bit interested in the ancient supe’s nostalgic trivia facts. You had been aware the Brit had only been entertaining him till he’d gotten what he wanted – Homelander served crispy on a stick.

You hadn’t cared much about the men’s chit-chatting either, just listening quietly in the corner as you’d sulked on Annie’s desk, wishing you could be with the others. But technically, you’d been Butcher’s personal pet, and he had threatened you rather quickly once you’d taken Hughie’s side. You’d been stuck with those two idiots since then, thinking how Homelander would probably kill you later that night because of them.

“Actually, my father owned half the steel mills in the state,” Soldier Boy had continued then, settling down on the worn, leather armrest of the couch. “I went to boarding school. Got kicked out of boarding school. Because I was a fuck-up. But he made sure I knew it.”

“Use the belt, did he?” Butcher had asked, certainty swinging in his voice. You knew he had a pretty fucked-up childhood, too. In fact, everyone on the team had one, including you.

“Never laid a hand on me,” Soldier Boy had replied, the ignorance seemingly tormenting him more. Emotional scars, you had guessed. “He couldn't be bothered. Said I was a disappointment. Not good enough to carry his name.”

“Why didn’t you just tell him to go fuck himself?”

It had slipped out of your mouth before you had realized what you’d said. Butcher had only smirked at you, probably agreeing, but Soldier Boy’s head had turned to you, blinking in surprise. His green eyes then had slightly narrowed at you in curiosity, a smile of amusement slowly rising on his lips

“Ha, I imagine that would’ve probably gone over well…” He had snorted into his drink. “I went to his golf buddies in the War Department instead, and they got me into Dr. Vought's Compound V trials. I became a superhero. Strongest man alive. Fucking ticker tape parades when I came home.”

“And what did the old man say then?” Butcher had asked, but you both had known where the story was headed.

“Ah.” The supe had chuckled lowly and raised his tumbler, but there had been resentment and pain brimming in his dark green eyes. “He said I took a shortcut. That a real man wouldn't have cheated.”

“Did you kill him?”

Again, Soldier Boy had seemed greatly amused by your question, a flicker of intrigue in his eyes. “No.” He shook his head, smacking his lips. “Would you kill your parents? You told me they were assholes.”

Before you could reply, Butcher had answered for you: “Our little Y/N here doesn’t kill people. She did, however, drop off her lovely parents in England of 1349.”

Soldier Boy had arched his brow at you. “What’s in England in 1349?”

You had shrugged coolly and snatched the drink from his hands, taking a sip. Your nose had scrunched in disgust as the liquor had burned down your throat, hearing Soldier Boy’s laugh at your reaction before you’d handed the drink back to him.

“The Bubonic Plague,” you had replied with a Machiavellian smile. “Sure, not as fun as Butcher’s ass cancer, but it’s been close to 700 years now. I’m guessing they’re dead.”

“You two have a funny way of dealing with family,” Soldier Boy had noted and taken another sip of his drink.

“Says the guy who’s been on a vengeful murder spree of everyone who’s ever wronged him for the past weeks,” you’d countered.

“Hmm, I suppose you do have a point there, sweetheart,” he’d said and sent you a sly smile. “Too bad your powers are gone. Could’ve dropped off my old man there, too.”

“Tell you what – if I ever get them back, I’ll put him on the list,” you’d said, smirking.

“Oy, look at you two becoming bloody friends,” Butcher had huffed in annoyance.

But Soldier Boy had only smiled, his green eyes never leaving you. “You’ve done a lot of these little adventures?”

“Yeah, kinda. Mostly, just the fun stuff, you know? 60s, 70s, 80s, 90s…” you’d shared.

“I do know.” He’d chuckled cheekily into his glass as he drank. You’d figured as much from his various stories. “Although, I missed the 90s and most of the 80s… Anything before the 60s? You ever met me, sweetheart?”

“Uh, no, never. Kinda stayed where the fun was,” you’d sassed and wiggled your eyebrows. “‘Sides, wouldn’t you remember me if I’d met you?”

“I don’t know. I’ve slept with a lot of fucking women over the decades, sweetheart. They kind of all blend together,” he had quipped, smirking.

“Nah, you’d remember me,” you’d said, returning his little smirk.

That had probably been the only time you’d ever flirted with him – and it had been solely out of fun, not that you’d actually been serious. You’d just figured he was about to have a showdown with his own offspring – better send him in with a winning mindset.

“Care to prove that cute little theory?” His smirk had then turned lopsided and teasing – hungry.

“I don’t,” you’d said and folded your arms, but the coquettish smile never disappeared from your lips. Then, something had popped into your mind. “Wait… You know, I think I did see you once, though.”

“Huh, really?”

“Yeah, caught half of the speech you gave at Woodstock. People really hated it.” You’d grinned. “Then I saw you fuck Grace Slick behind a tent. Was kinda jealous.”

A smug smirk had widened on his lips then. “Jealous, hm?”

You’d snorted a laugh, expecting he’d react that way. “Yeah, but of you, not of Grace Slick. Fucking someone from Jefferson Airplane? Pretty fucking cool, dude.”

“Meh, she was alright.” He’d shrugged and downed the last of his drink.

“Oy, are you lot about done now?” Butcher had sighed exhaustively, having made himself comfortable at his desk.

“What about you, asshole?” Soldier Boy had thrown the Brit a raised look at the interruption. “You got kids?”

“It's complicated,” Butcher had muttered into his whiskey glass.

“I always assumed I had a few out there,” Soldier Boy had then melancholically drifted off. “Somewhere. I always wanted ‘em. ‘Cause I thought I could do it better than my father did.”

“Homelander ain't yours. Not really.” Butcher had then proceeded to list all the ways Vought had essentially bred a fucking lab rat.

But when the Brit was finished, Soldier Boy’s eyes had found you instead. “What d’you think, sweetheart? You fucking agree?”

Granted, even if you had disagreed, one pointed look from Butcher had told you: You didn’t have much of a choice.

“Yeah, kinda…” you’d replied carefully, your brow knitting in thought. “I mean, I disagree with killing him–,” Butcher’s look was morphing to a glare, “–but I think you should… disable him, you know? Just turn him into a pathetically suffering human. For a guy like that, his own mind is probably worse than death.”

“Admittedly, that does sound funnier,” Soldier Boy had (somewhat) agreed with you, but you’d considered psychological torture over death a win.

“Well, you do what you want there, guv. But I’m killing this cunt as soon as he’s bloody capeless,” Butcher had announced with a dark chuckle.

Sighing, you’d glanced back at Soldier Boy. “You like movies, right? You’ve seen Frankenstein?”

“I think I did before you, sweetheart.” He’d smiled in amusement.

“It’s not a competition,” you’d retorted playfully. “Anyways, just look at it this way, okay? You donated a... pinky finger to Frankenstein’s monster, but just because Dr. Frankenstein yelled, ‘It’s alive! It’s alive!’ doesn’t mean it should be. You wanna be a hero, right?”

“I am a fucking hero,” he’d huffed, a bit offended.

“Then slay the fucking dragon and save the panicked villagers,” you’d said with an astute grin.

Thoughtfully, the supe had pursed his lips, then nodded. Butcher had seemed pleased, too, judging by the devilish smirk he threw your way.

“‘Sides, I still look young. Guess I can always have more kids.” Soldier’s Boy’s eyes had then slowly raked over your body, his teeth tugging at the plush pad of his lower lip, hiding a suggestive smirk underneath.

“Barking up the wrong tree here, Romeo,” you had gently declined his silent proposal. “But yeah, generally speaking, I guess that’s the spirit…”

And God, you had hoped the guy would never procreate in the future.

“I’ll do it,” Soldier Boy had then told Butcher, getting up from his seat.

“Alright, let’s pack up, lads.” Butcher had keenly rubbed his palms together. He’d been antsy all day, waiting for this.

“Leave her here, though,” Soldier Boy had said, which had surprised both you and Butcher. His voice had been casual, almost cold. He had then thrown you a dismissive look. “Her powers aren’t working. She’s useless, anyways. She’ll just be in the fucking way.”

Butcher had seemed suspicious by this, lifting a brow at the supe. “And since when do you care about collateral, mate?”

A quick beat of hesitance had passed before Soldier Boy’s signature smirk reappeared. “Well, maybe I’d still like to fuck her after I win.”

Butcher had only rolled his eyes at that and given a nod before eagerly thundering ahead, leaving you alone with the supe. As Soldier Boy’s shoulder had brushed yours, he’d used the opportunity to lean closer.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he’d whispered devilishly into your ear, his hot breath tickling your skin, a ripple of chill sweeping over you. “You can show me how much you wanna thank me when I get back.”

He’d winked at you and then disappeared after Butcher. 

As your mind drifted back from the past to the… well, past, you watched Ben by the window and wondered again what had happened to him. Soldier Boy had shown you traces of the kindness you’d witnessed in the younger version in front of you – at least in the beginning.

But maybe that was just the fucking Stockholm syndrome talking…

After all, as time went by, Soldier Boy had become crueler, rougher, and more vile toward you. It even seemed like the more he got to know you, the more he started to hate you.

Would that happen with his younger counterpart as well?

“So, uh, you said you enlisted today? Are you going to fight on the frontlines?” you asked and masked your curiosity with slight worry for his wellbeing as you finally broke the silence.

Ben’s head turned to you with raised brows as though you had just ripped him from deep thought. “Uh, we’ll see. I went to my father’s golf buddies in the War Department. They said they’d find something for me. Maybe an officer position.”

“Huh.” Your brow creased slightly, tongue poking your cheek. “Well, uh, good luck.”

“Yeah, uhm, thanks. Hope it makes the old man finally proud, you know?” he said, his voice low and raspy, as if testing the waters of what he could share with you.

“Why do you wanna make your father proud so badly you’re willing to risk your life?” you asked as you settled into the leather armchair by the bookshelves.

“Well, that’s what a man does, right?” he replied with a hint of amusement.

“Being stupid?”

Ben tilted his head at you, a smile playing across his lips. He scoffed a chuckle. “You’re different, you know? Not like the girls I meet… not like anyone I’ve met, really.” His tone shifted, curiosity mingling with something more personal. The playboy mask was slipping slightly. He seemed interested, not just in you, but in the enigma you were presenting.

By that, you figured that wasn’t what Grace, Betty, and Sheila would’ve said. Being a lady was fucking hard.

“Well, maybe it’s just me," he continued, his voice carrying a subtle edge now. "Guess I’m used to people being… a little easier to figure out. But you–,” he paused, frowning slightly, “–you’re not like that. It’s almost like... you don’t care what I think.”

You leaned back in the chair, legs crossed, trying to read the change in his tone, the way his posture had shifted subtly. “Maybe that’s because I don’t,” you said with a puckish twinkle in your eyes. “Or maybe it’s because you’re so predictable, I already know what you think.”

You didn’t, though. You knew what Soldier Boy thought, but his younger version was harder to read, your own bias of the man you knew well from the future fighting against your present judgment.

His brows shot up at that, the surprise flickering in his eyes again, but he quickly masked it with a short, dry laugh. “Predictable? Oh, I’m full of surprises, sweetheart.”

“Are you?” you challenged, your gaze steady. “Then why the same old routine? The drink, the smile, the way you try to act like you don’t care but it’s clear you do.”

There was a long moment of silence between you two, broken only by the wind that howled louder outside, as if urging him to respond, but Ben seemed to hesitate, looking at you like you’d just shown him a piece of himself he didn’t quite know how to handle.

You shifted in your seat, the leather creaking under you as you scanned the room again. The portraits on the walls, the old books, the reminders of everything he was supposed to live up to – it all felt a little suffocating. For a brief second, you almost felt a pang of empathy.

Finally, he let out a low breath, leaning his hip against the bar with a sigh as he picked up his tumbler and swirled it in his hand again. “Maybe I just wanted to get you to loosen up,” he said and took a sip from his drink, deflecting, masking. “Doesn’t seem to be working, though.”

“You really think making your dad proud will fix something?” you asked instead of taking his bait, keeping your tone casual, even though you weren’t sure why you were poking at that particular wound. Maybe you were just trying to see if he’d crack.

Ben’s green eyes darkened, a flicker of something almost painful crossing his face before he quickly concealed it with a shrug. “It’s all I know how to do. People like me... we don’t get to decide how things go. We just follow the script.”

Ah. No wonder he’d been Vought’s perfect superhero puppet for so long. He’d been used to the theatrics from the start.

“And if the script’s broken?” You raised an eyebrow, studying him. The honesty of the conversation strangely kept you going. “You’re just gonna keep following it blindly?”

He leaned forward slightly, his voice low, almost conspiratorial. “What else am I supposed to do?” he asked, the words coming out rougher than he'd intended. “I don’t get to choose what’s in my blood, what I’m born into. I don’t have the luxury of throwing it all away. My father wants me to be this… perfect son. The dutiful heir.”

“And you’re not?” Arching an eyebrow, you rose from your seat and sauntered to the bar. You snatched the half-empty tumbler in front of him and drank from it. The moment the glass touched your lips, you could taste the sharp burn of alcohol, but there was a sweetness to it too. You didn’t drink often, but tonight seemed like a necessary exception.

Besides, you’d already seen him drink from it, so you were sure the Bill Cosby fanboy wasn’t trying to drug you.

Slightly amused, he lifted an eyebrow at you. “You know, if you want a drink, my offer still stands. I can make you one.”

You shrugged with a mischievous smile. “I’m good with yours. Thank you.”

A subtle smile crossed his lips at your response, his cheeks warming in the glow of the fire. “You know, my father thinks I’m a disappointment – the black sheep. He thinks I’m not good enough for his legacy. He-, uh, he wants me to marry someone from a prestigious family. Thinks it’s good for business.”

“Grace,” you realized quietly. “So, this is like an arranged thing?”

“Yeah,” he said and poured himself another drink since you had stolen his. “You’d be surprised how well you can tolerate a person when it’s part of the plan.”

You thought about Crimson Countess and the highly publicized relationship they’d led. You knew he’d cheated on her multiple times, too. You recognized a pattern. His father, Vought… Had he ever known a different life?

“Why do you keep going along with it?” you asked, leaning forward slightly, the warmth of the drink making you bolder. “I mean, you already cheated on her, right? Doesn’t seem like you care that much what your father wants, after all.”

He chuckled lightly, scratching his throat. “Well, I don’t remember actually proposing, so I don’t see the issue. I mean, hell, I barely can stand her,” he replied, his lips quirking into a dry smile. “Guess I’m not really the marrying type.” His gaze then lifted from his glass on the bar to you. “What about you, sweetheart? You got a husband? Fiancé? Someone you’re running away from?”

“Uh, no, nothing like that. I’m kinda on my own. Lone wolf, you know?” you replied and hoped it was enough.

Ben let out a soft laugh at that, shaking his head as if the idea of a woman all on her own was utterly ridiculous. You knew you were a mystery to him, one he seemed too eager to unravel. You didn’t like it, but you couldn’t deny how it tempted you.

“Alright, you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to,” he relented, smiling assuringly. His tongue swiped over his plump upper lip. “Just tell me something. One true, personal thing about you.”

You paused for a while, considering your options. Your lips briefly flashed with a smile, then you met his eyes. “Today’s my birthday.”

Technically, it was in June in your own time, but to you, it was still true. Loophole.

“Huh.” He seemed pleased with the information, giving you a soft smile. “Well, happy birthday, sweetheart.”

Ben left it at that. He didn’t ask more questions. Didn’t ask who you were exactly, where you came from, what you were doing here, or why you were running around lost on your birthday.

“So, uhm, if you don’t want any of this, why not walk away?” You couldn’t help but press a little, steering him away from his own curiosity about you. The tension between you two was thick enough that it almost felt like a game now – tit for tat. “Why are you doing all of this for a guy who never saw you as more than a name on a list?”

Ben’s forest green eyes darkened again, his jaw clenching. “I’m not like you,” he snapped, more harshly than you expected. “I don’t get to make choices like that.”

The sudden defensiveness was raw, and you could feel it in the air, in the way the light from the fire cast long shadows across his freckled face. For a moment, the version of Ben you saw felt less like the charming man you’d met and more like the soldier he was becoming – the one you knew. Someone trapped in a cycle they couldn’t escape, no matter how hard they tried.

Or in Soldier Boy’s case, not trying at all.

There was an uncomfortable pause after that, the kind of silence that felt like a bridge too far to cross. Ben glanced out the window again, the wind howling louder, rattling the glass. You could feel the distance he was trying to keep – he was trying to be strong, to act like he wasn’t letting the high expectations weigh him down. But it was there, in everything he said – and everything he didn’t say.

When he turned back to you, an apologetic smile tugged at his lips. He cleared his throat, slipping back into his designated role. “I-, uh, I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

Swallowing, you shook your head and met his gaze. “No, I-, uh, I crossed a line. I’m sorry,” you said. “You’re right. It’s not my place.”

Contemplatively, he bit his lips, the study falling back into the night’s silence. “You know, I guess I do it because I’m supposed to,” he suddenly answered your question, his green eyes avoiding yours like they were the midday sun. “It’s easier to pretend that I don’t care, you know? I mean, what else can I do?”

You found his eyes, your own heart strangely heavy with understanding. “Maybe you don’t have to be what he wants. Maybe you just have to be yourself,” you said, keeping your voice soft.

Perhaps, you weren’t in a position to offer advice – or give him any, for that matter, the protection of the timeline still in the back of your mind. But you couldn’t control it, your own curiosity getting in the way. You had begun to play the dangerous game every woman on this earth, no matter what time, liked to play: What if he could change? What if you could fix him?

“Maybe you could try something else. Something that’s just... yours.”

Ben looked at you for a long moment, the weight of your words hanging between you like a challenge he wasn’t sure he could accept. He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he seemed to consider it, before he let out a breath through his nose, a small, almost bitter smile on his lips.

“Yeah, maybe…” For a fleeting moment, his brick façade cracked, and you saw something softer, more vulnerable. He looked at you, an unreadable expression in his piercing green eyes – something between exhaustion and the remnants of defiance. “I’m not sure who that even is anymore,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “I’m too far gone for that.”

You didn’t know what to say, but you could see he was fighting to be someone he wasn’t, and it made you want to reach across the distance.

Your hand tentatively clasped his forearm that rested upon the mahogany bar top. You could feel him tense under your unexpected touch, his lips parting, confused green eyes flickering to the spot where your fingers brushed his skin before they landed back on your face.

“I don’t think you are,” you said, your voice only a soft whisper that was almost drowned out by the crackling fire and the ticking of the grandfather clock.

The moment was fragile, suspended in the air between you. Your heart hammered against your ribs. But it was gone in an instant, as Ben pulled his hand away like he’d been burnt and downed the last of his drink, clearing his throat.

“You should get some rest, sweetheart,” he said, his voice suddenly distant again – guarded. “Tomorrow’s another day.”

You nodded, not sure what to say as you held your breath. You didn’t want to leave, but the tension in the room was too much to ignore. There was a line you couldn’t and wouldn’t cross.

As you reached the door, he gave you a half-smile, almost apologetically. “I’ll be here if you need me.”

“Goodnight, Ben,” you said, and for a heartbeat, it felt like you were saying goodbye to something you didn’t quite understand yet. 

▶️ Chapter 4: After All, Tomorrow's Another Day – APRIL 18

Something tells me there's something else burning and not just the fires on the infinite hearths 👀🔥 (And yes, there's a fireplace in almost every room lmao)

Coming Up:

The door to his father’s study stood ajar, Ben sitting at the large oak desk as you carefully peeked your head inside and halted in the doorway. He was hunched over documents in concentration, scribbling something on paper with murmuring lips and a tensely knitted brow.

You took a deep breath and stepped inside, and the moment his eyes lifted and found you, he froze, the pen in his hand faltering midair. His gaze swept over you, not just disbelief but hunger creeping into the lush, green moss of his eyes.

Well, this was even worse than the Zeppelin shirt, the towel, or his clothes. You hadn’t expected the dress to be so noticeable. Maybe you should’ve gone with the pastel green one that made you look like a minted cupcake?

Ben’s mouth parted, but no words came out at first. He blinked, slowly, as if trying to make sense of what he was seeing. “You look, uhm…” he trailed off, unable to finish his sentence.

Uh-oh…

“Weird, right?” you offered in an attempt to deflect.

Ben snorted a chuckle then, breaking out a bit of his stupor. “Uh, that wouldn’t have been the exact adjective I would’ve used.” The laughing crinkles around his eyes then softened to something warmer, the heat of his lingering stare rushing straight into your veins. “You look… I guess ‘breathtaking’ is the right word for it.”

Yup, that melted your heart right down to your core.

🚀 Read up to 4 chapters ahead on Patreon now

Tag List Pt 1.:

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[charcubed]

MARVEL REALLY SAID "WHAT IF WE GIVE EVERYONE STEVEBUCKY CRUMBS IN 2023"

"You don't know me." "Steve Rogers did. And the man he knew, the friend he loved, would never take that shot."

When I tell you I SCREAMED!!!! Giggling, kicking my feet, etc ohhhhhh my fucking God I'm insane. And he goes to stare at the Brooklyn Bridge……….. help me.

AND! We're getting the Hydra Stomper ep in a few days. Y'know... the continuation of the Captain Carter TFA rewrite from season 1... the episode that's going to be a Winter Soldier redux where (presumably) Steve is the brainwashed antagonist as the Hydra Stomper and Peggy has to get through to him, and it'll all be within the context of them being a romance.

They are doing these PARALLELS (again) intentionally DAYS APART. They chose to remind everyone that Steve always breaks Bucky's brainwashing right before we're gonna get Stevepeggy parallels.

I fucking love this for me

people who are going to call this "queerbaiting" do not fucking interact, we have fun here, thank you

[ladylamrian]

Female Main Character: Clara (Desire & Decorum)

Pairing: F!MC × Ernest Sinclaire

Summary: A Winter Fairytale AU - Young Clara receives from her father a nutcracker as a gift.

Word Count: 4K words

Rating: General (Fluff, Fairytale AU, Christmas)

Warnings: none (just ugly Richard much uglier)

-> My complete Desire & Decorum Masterlist <-

Desire & Decorum Fanfiction Taglist: @bri1234 ; @tessa-liam ; @princess-geek ; @gmsrrn98 ; @rosesnink ; and whoever wants to join... @choicesficwriterscreations ; @choicesdecember2024 [Christmas ; ...] & @choicesjanuary2025 [Light ; Joy ; Connection ; New Love]

Comments via Reblog wholeheartedly welcome

Author's note: Inspired by the (Ballet) Fairytale called "The Nutcracker" where the heroine has the same name as my Desire & Decorum Main Character, Clara of Edgewater.

In this magical rewrite and retelling, Clara, a young girl with a kind heart, gazed in wonder at her new Nutcracker toy gifted by her father, Vincent, the Viscount of Edgewater.

"Oh, my Nutcracker, you're so handsome!", the girl praised as she held her wooden toy in her hands which looked almost like a human.

"Clara, dear! Clara!!"

The girl heard the grandmother call out from downstairs, so she immediately placed the wooden figure on her bed sheet, left her chambers, and hurried toward the calling woman.

After helping her grandmother, the young girl returned to her chambers only to find her younger brother, Harry, next to her broken toy. The figure lying on the floor with a missing arm.

"Oh no, my nutcracker!! What have you done?", she panicked and quickly grabbed the wooden figure from the floor. Then she picked up the missing toy arm which she found from under her bed.

"I only wanted to play with this soldier but it broke so easily. That's a dumb toy."

"Hey, don't say that about Father's gift. And that's my Nutcracker and not yours. Go and play with Edmund.", she scolded, wanting him to leave.

"Hey children, why the shouting? What happened.", a gentle voice called out. It was Viscount Vincent, the father of the children.

"Father, Harry broke my nutcracker!", little Clara sobbed and pointed at her sibling. Harry tried to avoid his father's gaze as he spoke.

"I'm sorry, father. I was just playing, and it happened by accident."

And then the boy left, leaving his sister alone with the father. The viscount discovered his daughter's sadness which broke his heart. How happy he made her with just a simple toy.

"My darling dear, please don't cry. I promise to fix your toy."

"You would do that, father?", she asked as she slowly calmed herself down.

"Anything for my Clara.", Vincent softly whispered before planting a gentle kiss on his daughter's forehead. She was the only daughter and a father who would do anything for their baby girl. He carefully took her wooden toy and its dispatched arm.

"Thank you, father. You're the best."

"I just don't want to see you sad, my child. Especially not on Christmas Eve. I'll be right back."

Determined to help, the viscount left Clara's chambers with her toy in hand, ready to fix it. Despite the challenges, he successfully reattached the arm. After just half an hour, he returned the toy to Clara, looking as good as new.

"Yayy, my nutcracker got fixed. Thanks father.", she happily squeaked.

In the dead of night, after everyone else had retired, Clara decisively woke up in her chambers to check on her nutcracker. She confidently reached for the cupboard next to her bed as the clock struck midnight. In an instant, hordes of mice flooded the room, and the walls, furniture, and everything surrounding her expanded to dizzying heights.

"Aaahh, what's happening?! Is everything growing or am I shrinking? Help!", she panicked.

Little Clara shrank into the size of a doll. The same size as her Nutcracker. She discovered her toy standing next to her with features like a real human. There was nothing wooden of him anymore. He looked more handsome and real. Light skin, chestnut curls, and stormy, blue eyes.

"Uhh, who are you?"

"Why your nutcracker, of course, milady. They also call me Ernest Sinclaire. And this gentleman is at your service now.", he spoke before raising her knuckles to plant a kiss on them which made the girl blush.

She found her nutcracker already beautiful as a toy, but now even more. Handsome, dashing, and those perfect manners. A man of her dreams.

"You're so kind. Dear Nutcracker,... I... I mean... Dear Mr. Sinclaire, were you always a nutcracker? How did this happen?"

"My Clara, it's only fair if you know the truth. I wasn't always a nutcracker, but a human like you. I got cursed."

"What?", she gasped and he nodded.

"Yes, cursed by no other but the evil Mouse King."

"Mouse King? And is there a way that your curse can be broken"

"Only by the sweetness of the Sugar Fairy."

"First a mouse and now a fairy? What does that mean?", the girl got confused than before.

"I sadly don't know either what the sweetness of the Sugar Fairy is or if she even exists, but that doesn't stop me from fighting. I won't give up that easily."

"Oh Ernest, your story is so sad. I wish I could help you."

"Clara, you helped me already. You're a wonderful girl and treat me perfectly. You don't see me as a toy but as a real human. Someone with real feelings. And thank you for stepping before. It kinda hurt when your brother was messing up with my arm.", he chuckled.

"Does your arm still hurt?" she whispered and gently stroked the injured part.

"Not when I have you, Clara. Besides, your father took great care of me. He's a good man who raised a beautiful girl."

"Oh, Ernest. You're...", she blushed.

"Yes, dear Clara?"

"Oh shut up, you're gorgeous. I like you being more human and real. You're so sweet, kind, and just perfect. You're the best gift I ever received. Even as a toy I love you."

"Clara darling, it fills my wooden heart to hear this. I wish I could spend more time with you in my human form and dance all night with you forever."

"Oh Ernest, why not dance now?"

Clara created delicate ballet movements that were pleasant to watch for Ernest. The movements of the feet were graceful, the movements of the arms and the fingers were very fluid, and the whole body got synchronized.

"Love, may I join for this dance?", he asked and extended his arm to her. She happily accepted and both started a powerful waltz. Everything around them faded away and they only focused on themselves and their dance.

"My beautiful... Clara, look out!!", her nutcracker panicked as their dance suddenly got interrupted by unwanted intruders.

"Ernest, what's happening?"

Clara was shocked and now found herself amid a battle between an army of gingerbread soldiers and the mice, led by their king.

She discovered her nutcracker shouting orders to the gingerbread men, who were joined by tin soldiers, and by dolls who served as doctors to carry away the wounded. The Mouse King returned. As the old, gray-haired being tried to advance on the nutcracker, Clara immediately threw her slipper at him to protect her nutcracker.

"Hey, you ugly rat!! Back off!!"

"Who dares to call me an ugly rat?!! The powerful Mouse King Richard!!", the almost human-like animal hissed at the girl.

"Leave Ernest and the toys alone!! Your army is hurting innocent people.", she dared to answer back while Mr. Sinclaire and the other toy soldiers were too busy fighting off some rats, Richard's minions. One of them was a light-gray human rat called Sir Gideon, who was now swordfighting with Clara's nutcracker, Ernest Sinclaire.

"My, my, what gorgeous piece do we have here? A pretty girl in my kingdom."

"Excuse me, I'm not a piece!!"

"That anger... How fierce! I like that. Why don't you join me, beautiful? I'm a King. Fight by my side and I'll make my Queen.", he spoke as he tried to move closer to her.

"Ewww, no thanks. I love Ernest Sinclaire and not you, old rat. Stay away from me."

"Nobody rejects me. And you...", Mouse King Richard got interrupted as he analyzed the battlefield.

Many of his minions sustained injuries and were defeated while the toys claimed victory in the battle. Unable to tolerate defeat, he issued a command to retreat, vowing to return and strike back harder. Mouse King Richard and Rat Sir Gideon escaped with a handful of their minions, fully intent on scheming for revenge and launching a powerful counterattack.

"Wohooo, Ernest!! They're gone. You defeated them!!", Clara cheered before running towards her soldier for a hug.

"My Clara darling, my love, are you alright? Did he hurt you? I'm so sorry I couldn't keep Richard away from you."

"It's alright, we're both safe now. Is your arm alright?", she wispered in worry.

"Well, I'm used to losing some parts of me while battling, and it doesn't hurt. But this time it feels strange. For the first time, I feel like I used to feel when I was human, Clara. That means the Sugar Fairy must be near."

"Then we have to find her to make you back human again. Does your arm hurt?"

"Manageable, Clara. But for keeping you safe, this pain is nothing to me."

"Then let's find the Sugar Fairy. Lead the way, my love."

Ernest confidently journeyed to the magnificent Land of Sweets alongside the girl. This vibrant realm was under the rule of the Sugar Fairy. The paths were adorned with colorful toffees, and towering lollipop trees captivated young Clara. They boldly crossed a candy cane bridge over the rich chocolate milk river. Energetic bees buzzed around, offering them delightful honey as they soared through the air. In this land, everything and everyone exuded a powerful sense of harmony and joy.

"It's like heaven here, Ernest."

"I was genuinely surprised to uncover this hidden world that embraced me. Nonetheless, I firmly miss the experience of being human again."

"Listen, you're still human with a heart of gold. You can feel happiness, pain, and love. Your mind is sharp and capable of strategy. While you may be made of wood at the moment, that doesn’t diminish your humanity. Together, we will break this curse."

As they stepped into the enchanting Land of Sweets, a vibrant kingdom ruled by the whimsical Sugar Fairy, they were greeted by an extraordinary assembly. Gingerbread soldiers, with their gleaming icing decorations and candy buttons, stood tall and proud. Colorful dolls with sparkling eyes danced joyfully, while fluffy teddy bears flanked them, their soft fur inviting hugs. All around, toys of every kind chimed and chimed with delight, their laughter ringing like bells in the air. The joyful procession celebrated the young couple's bravery, honoring them for vanquishing the wicked Mouse King, Richard, earlier that day.

"You were so heroic.", a ballet dancer sang as she twirled around them.

"Mister Sinclaire saved us again! How will we ever thank him?" Ginger, the teddy bear cheered.

"All hail, Mr. Sinclaire!!", the crowd joined.

"Who's the pretty girl with you, Mr. Sinclaire?" an elderly woman asked and winked at them. Everyone got curious too.

"Madam Tarte, may I introduce Clara? She's with me and together we are here to meet the Sugar Fairy."

"The Sugar Fairy? We have never seen her."

"To the Sugar Fairy? Mister Sinclaire, take my horses for the travel.", Mister Crumble offered.

Ernest, the nutcracker, gratefully accepted the warm words of encouragement and generous help from the villagers. In a display of kindness, they lent him two magnificent mares. Clara, with her spirited demeanor, perched elegantly on a chocolate-brown horse named Caramel, whose rich, glossy coat shimmered in the sun. Meanwhile, Ernest chose a striking white mare with delicate snowflake patterns dotting her fur. She was named Marzipan.

With a sense of adventure, they took off, riding swiftly through the meadows as if propelled by the very wind itself, their laughter echoing through the air. The journey led them to the enchanting crystal palace, where the fairy was said to reside. Upon their arrival, the pair dismounted and led their horses to a gentle stop, leaving them tied outside before stepping into the palace, ready to discover the magic within.

The walls of the palace were magnificently adorned with exquisite marble, showcasing intricate carvings that told stories of a bygone era. Each detail in the craftsmanship added to the grandeur of the surroundings. The floors, meticulously polished to a near-mirror finish, gleamed under the soft glow of the chandeliers, creating a mesmerizing reflection that enhanced the opulence of the space.

"So this where the good Sugar Fairy lives. It's beautiful.", Clara admired.

A cheerful gingerbread soldier adorned with colorful icing and a shiny candy button for a uniform greeted them with a warm smile, his sugary frame exuding a delightful aroma of cinnamon and spice.

"Greetings, I am Ernest Sinclaire, accompanied by Clara. We have journeyed a considerable distance to seek an audience with the esteemed Sugar Fairy. We hold a deep respect for her and sincerely believe that she possesses the power to assist us in lifting the curse that has been cast upon me. Would it be possible for us to visit her?"

"Greetings, Mr. Sinclaire. We have had the pleasure of hearing numerous accounts of your remarkable adventures throughout the land, particularly your courageous confrontations with the nefarious Mouse King. It is our honor to welcome esteemed heroes like yourself to our community."

"Thank you, Sir Luke."

"Regrettably, I am unable to assure you that you will have the opportunity to meet the Sugar Fairy today, or at any time in the future."

"Why is that?" the nutcracker asked with concern.

"I regret to inform you that the Sugar Fairy has been absent for an extended period and has yet to make her return," the soldier announced, eliciting a concerned reaction from the couple.

How can they possibly break the curse on Mr. Sinclaire now? The Sugar Fairy was their only hope, and the thought of him remaining a nutcracker forever was heartbreaking. He deserved the chance to be human again.

"I'll never return back into my human again."

"Please don't say that, Ernest. I know things feel overwhelming right now, but we will find a way through this together. Trust me, my love. I'm here for you," she said softly, wrapping her arms around him. He pulled her closer, seeking comfort, and she gently stroked his soft hair, hoping to calm his racing thoughts.

"Clara, I thought I'll be soon back human but..."

"I completely understand how you feel, my love. Believe me, I share those sentiments too. But please always remember that my love for you remains unwavering, whether you’re human or a nutcracker. You are, and always will be, my Ernest Sinclaire. My hero, my love, my everything. Your kindness, generosity, loyalty, and wonderful heart are what drew me to you, and I cherish that deeply."

"I truly love you too, Clara."

As she heard these little heartfelt words, an overwhelming warmth spread through the girl's heart. In that moment, she stood on her tiptoes, yearning to connect with him, and leaned in for a kiss. Their lips met in a tender, passionate embrace, a beautiful expression of their deep love. An experience that felt like the sweetest thing Ernest had ever tasted.

They found themselves surrounded by a radiant light that enveloped them with hope. It was a glow so captivating that toys from the nearby towns and villages rushed toward the mysterious source, eager to uncover the wonders that awaited them.

When Ernest Sinclaire slowly opened his blue eyes, he found that the girl before him had transformed. No longer was it just Clara, the girl he had known so well. Instead, it was Clara in a dazzling new form as the Sugar Fairy herself. Her brown hair shimmered like spun sugar, cascading down her shoulders in soft waves, and she wore a gown that sparkled with hues of pastel pink and blue. The air around her was sweet, filled with a hint of candy as she smiled down at him. Her radiance illuminating the room and filling Ernest with a sense of wonder and magic.

Clara of Edgewater stood enchanted. Her eyes wide with astonishment. She was dressed in a breathtaking gown. Its fabric shimmering like liquid silver as it cascaded down to the floor, each fold and flare danced gracefully with her every movement. The gown was adorned with tiny sequins that twinkled like stars, adding a touch of magic to her appearance. On her feet, she wore delicate ballet slippers, soft and pastel-hued, embellished with sparkling accents that caught the light with each step she took.

Perched atop her flowing hair was a radiant tiara, a masterpiece of artistry that sparkled with an array of precious gemstones. Each gem seemed to reflect its own story, glistening in hues of sapphire, ruby, and emerald, casting a gentle glow around her. Strikingly beautiful, she felt as if she had stepped straight out of a fairytale, transformed into a princess wrapped in elegance and grace. In that moment, she truly was a vision of purity and enchantment, completely bejeweled and captivating.

"Clara darling, you look like an angel."

The same radiant light enveloped the figure of Ernest Sinclaire, illuminating him in a warm glow. As the transformation began, the once solid wooden form gradually shifted, its hard exterior melting away into soft, supple skin. Flesh and blood filled out the structure, revealing a body full of life and vitality. Before anyone’s eyes, the inanimate wooden toy had transcended its limitations to become a fully realized human being. Indeed, he stood there as a true man, embodying the very essence of humanity as it was always intended to be.

"I'm... I'm back human. After all these times, I'm back in my own body and not a nutcracker anymore."

"Ernest, what happened? I don't understand. Just look at me... What is going on?" she begged for an explanation as she couldn't understand what just happened.

"All the time we were searching for the Sugar Fairy without knowing that you are the Sugar Fairy, Clara. You broke my curse and made me human again."

The enthusiastic crowd surged around them, their cheers rising to a deafening crescendo, echoing the excitement in the air.

"All hail Clara, the Sugar Fairy!!"

"No, that's impossible. I'm not the Sugar Fairy. I'm Clara, just an ordinary girl," she asserted firmly. The man gently placed his hands on her shoulders and looked deeply into her eyes.

"Dear Clara, I truly understand how difficult this is to accept. I felt the same way when I transformed from a human into a nutcracker and entered the Land of Sweets. Your sweetnes, your loving kiss was what broke the curse of the evil Mouse King Richard. It was only the sweetness of the Sugar Fairy that could accomplish this, which is why I believe you are the Sugar Fairy. You have given me the gift of humanity once again."

In a dazzling celebration that filled the air with sweetness, the young heroine was honored and formally welcomed as the Sugar Fairy. The festivities featured an impressive array of delectable treats from around the globe, each one more inviting than the last. Velvety chocolate from Switzerland, with its rich, creamy texture. Spiced gingerbread from Germany, bursting with warm flavors. Fragrant coffee from Arabia, with its enticing aroma. Delicate tea from China served in vibrant porcelain cups. And colorful candy canes from Russia, gleaming under the twinkling lights, were all beautifully displayed.

As laughter echoed throughout the Land of Sweets, the toys danced joyfully and captivated the crowd with their spirited performances. The atmosphere was electric with joy and happiness.

As the dawn approached, it was time for Clara to awaken soon. The night was coming to an end. Mister Sinclaire bowed to her respectfully and kissed her goodbye.

"Ernest!" she shouted, her voice breaking the tranquility of the early morning. Clara’s eyes fluttered open to find the golden sunlight streaming through her window, painting a warm glow across her room. The gentle rays danced on the walls, illuminating the delicate patterns of the wallpaper. Snuggled comfortably in her soft, plush blankets, she felt cocooned against the cold of the winter morning. She lay nestled in her cozy bed, surrounded by the familiar comforts of her chambers, momentarily lost in the peacefulness before the day began.

All the memories of Ernest, the Land of Sweets, the Mouse King, and the Sugar Fairy were still fresh in her mind, which she couldn't forget or shake away that easily. It felt so real. Was it all a dream, or did it happen? The only way to find out...

The girl swung her legs over the side of the bed, her feet brushing against the cool wooden floor. She glanced around her room, eyes scanning every corner in search of clues. Clenching her fists, she imagined what she might find a glimmering piece of candy cane or perhaps a fragrant piece of gingerbread. Her mind even wandered to the thought of an ugly rat with a tiny crown.

"Wait a second, where is the nutcracker which father gifted me yesterday on Christmas Eve?", she thought loud as she discovered that her toy was missing. It wasn't lying in the cupboard at her bedside anymore, which made her panic.

"No, no, it can't be... There must be a logical explanation. I bet Harry took my Nutcracker again. That boy..." she groaned and rushed downstairs. As she entered the main hall, she began shouting.

"Harry, come here!! Where is my nutcracker?!!"

"Are you searching for me?", someone chuckled which surprised her.

It was a young man who entered the parlour with Clara's father, Vincent, as their new guest. He was good-looking, tall, with curly brown hair, gray-blue eyes, and fair skin. He wore a white shirt with a scarf wrapped around his neck, a beige vest, and a navy blue jacket paired with brown trousers. A smile spread across his face as he noticed the girl.

"Ernest?" she whispered with surprise.

The handsome man she danced with last night in Nutcracker form was now standing in front of her, alive. Maybe it wasn't a dream after all? Or was it just a coincidence? But where was her Nutcracker then?

"Sugar Fairy.", the man whispered to her and winked which made her blush. Maybe the adventures of last night did happen. She would happily trade her toy for the dashing man in front of her.

"I hope you don't mind having a guest with us tonight, Clara.", Viscount Vincent suggested, which the girl didn't mind at all.

The entire family gathered around the beautifully adorned Christmas tree. The warm glow of the lights cast a festive ambiance in the room. They savored a traditional meal together, filling the air with the tempting aromas of roasted meats and seasonal dishes. At the table sat Father, whose jovial laughter rang out. Grandmother, with her wise and twinkling eyes. Harry, who eagerly shared stories with Edmund. Clara secretly stole glances with the special guest, who added an extra touch of joy to the occasion. It was a moment of togetherness, warmth, and cherished memories.

"Soooo... Do we know each other?" she dared to ask without letting anyone notice their interactions.

"You might know me already, Clara. I hope you're not sad that you don't have a nutcracker anymore."

"This Sugar Fairy rather wants to have you, my hero. Now Mouse King Richard won't stand a single chance against my man.", she confessed as their hands met under the dining table.

[mysweeetbucky]

Bucky fanfics please???

I'm really upset with what MCU is apparently doing to Bucky in Thunderbolts, turning him into The Winter Soldier again and making him a bad guy (they threw some 'bad and worse guys' shit ew). It's even more unsettling to me that some fans believe Bucky wants to kill and fuck up☠ as if TFATWS didn't happen at all? So I just need some soft, real Bucky FFs to keep me sane, hopefully picking up from TFATWS, or even rewriting whatever is the gist of Thunderbolts (like him leaving problematic shit like Congress behind and being happy with MC/YN, him being in the actual Avengers with Sam). Just him being his normal self who has peace with Y/N. Find me some FFs or write some idk just give me something 😭 I already miss TFATWS Bucky

[alwaysakin]

Favourite MCU Fic Recs

I'm not nearly as much as an MCU expert as I am a Buffy expert, but here are my favorite MCU fics!

Gen Fics

All The Leaves Are Brown (And the sky is gray) by AvocadoLove - the Winter Soldier kills Howard and Maria Stark... And then raises their young son. This is absolutely incredible, and Bucky & Tony's father / son relationship is so bittersweet.

Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Mentioned Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes.

built from scraps by robinbuckley - Tony Stark snaps. Peter Parker (and MJ!) does not. This fic is absolutely incredible! Pepper, Morgan & Peter's family relationship is amazing, and their grief over Tony, May, and all their friends is wonderful. MJ and Peter's romance, and his friendships with Harley Keener and Nat are great. Oh, and Tony turns out to be Peter's bio dad. READ THIS.

Minor MJ/Peter Parker, and Pepper Potts/Tony Stark.

Things I Almost Remember by IcedAquarius - probably the most interesting Tony is Peter's bio dad fic, purely because Tony doesn't know. More angsty than most fic I read - and be warned: it hasn't been updated in a while. Ned, MJ, and Helen Cho are standouts!

Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, and future MJ/Peter Parker.

The Second Hand Unwinds by The Party Prince - Mobius gives Loki the chance to go anywhere. He visits his brother post Infinity War. A short one shot, and so sad and wonderful.

Love is Pain (Well, Darling, Let's Hurt Tonight) by OverlyObsessed223 - a crossover with the X-Men movies, where X-Men Peter and MCU Wanda can feel each other's pain. A bittersweet look at sibling relationships. Slightly more X-Men focused.

RECOIL by VulpeculaAnser - a season 1 rewrite of Agents of Shield, focusing heavily on Daisy and the trauma that would ensue if she got her powers earlier. Focuses on the found family relationship of the team. Tragically unfinished.

Cool Meta and Multimedia Fics

20 Celebrities Who Could Totally Be Daredevil by RosaLui - formatted like a buzzfeed article. Short, meta, and hilarious!

Steve Rogers at 100: Celebrating Captain America on Film by many - a hilarious historical archive of Captain America movies. Absolutely loved all the historical references. Minor Steve/Bucky.

Best Stucky Fics

What I'm Looking For by TessaBennet - a long, sprawling series of stories that rewrites all of the MCU with a Stucky focus. If you have to read one fanfic on this list, this is the one for you. It fixes canon in so many ways, and completely changed the ways I view many characters for the better (especially Natasha, Sam, and Wanda). The second fic, focusing on WW2, and the 6th (on the events up to/Civil War) are by far the best, but every fic in this series is incredible. Seriously. Read it.

Don't Ask by AnnaFugazzi -a WW2 Steve and Bucky have a secret relationship, and are found out. Realistic and HEARTBREAKING consequences ensue. Ends on a bittersweet note, and is amazing. Be warned - the sequels get much darker and deal with non/con. Personally, I stop reading here.

A Long Winter by dropdeaddream and WhatAreFears - A Stucky fic looking at what would happen if Steve didn't go into the ice, but Bucky was still the Winter Soldier. Steve and Peggy's relationship, and the Howlies, are written so well.

despite the threatening sky and shuddering earth (they remained) by praximeter - The Winter Soldier's mask doesn't come off - a slow burn that delves into the torture Bucky endured and the slow realization about who he is on Steve's part. Very dark.

Never Like This by RobinWood - another slowburn Winter Soldier identity reveal fic. This one in particular writes the whole avengers team so well, especially Tony and his reaction to his parents dying.

Time Travel and Other Fic-It Fics

the reactions of a dead man by agloeian - it's down to Loki to arrange things to stop Thanos. Some really funny bits, and a good look at the limits of what can be changed with time travel. The Loki & Strange relationship is great.

god loves everybody, don't remind me by napricot - Erik Killmonger gets stuck in a time loop. He learns the meaning of family along the way. The author writes Erik so well!

Bringing Him Home by sancuary_for_all - A post No-Way-Home fix it. Ned and MJ have gaps in their memory. Eventually, they piece things together. Really sweet Peter/MJ relationship.

If I Could Start Again by Taarko - at the end of Infinity War, Thor is sent back in time. The amount of lore in this fic is incredible! And the characterization of Thor, Loki, and Valkyrie is great! Very Asgard focused and goes deep into their history.

Relationships: Valkyrie/Loki, Betty Ross/Bruce Banner.

Fics With OCs (That Are Actually Good)

The Wyvern by emmamagnetised - Tony has a younger sister, who is in the car with their parents and is taken by Hydra. The trial of the Wyvern arc is wonderful and sold me on this. It's loooong, be warned. A Bucky Barnes/OC fic.

The Siren by emmamagnetised - a WW2 story about a spy for the Allies in Nazi Germany - who is a childhood friend of Steve and Bucky. Cute relationship between her and Steve.

[theroamingtrashcan]

Okay some ppl seemed interested in this and I cannot stop thinking about it. So here are some thoughts I've had while planning on rewriting Lab Rats but removing the Disney Channel Sitcom-ness from it.

What I mean by that is essentially just taking the characters, themes, and plot seriously. Picture Percy Jackson-esk, they are still kids but the situations and risks of what they do is not ignored.

The characters will be changed a bit to reflect this, but I'll do what I can to keep them true to the show. Some more than others, here's what I've currently got in mind for the main ones:

Leo - Honestly not much needs to be changed, he is one of the more seriously written characters in the show. I'll probably make him more concious of his actions, but his humor and personality I'll leave untouched.

Adam - Okay this one will be tricky. Adam is almost purely a comedic relief character, and some of that will stay. But most of it will be swapped with a genuine character, one that loves his family and also maybe art? Idk I need to keep rewatching to get a better grasp on Adam.

Bree - Much like Adam, Bree is very much the "sister" character in a boys TV show. From what I've seen in my rewatch (I'm only like halfway though s2), I'll have to make her more fleshed out, with a genuine personality. But don't worry, she is a couped up teenage girl who is doing what she can to live that teenage girl life, that much I will not change.

Chase - Truly the easiest of the bionic siblings, the show often takes Chase more serious than others. Most will stay the same, though I might knock his ego down a few pegs. Oh and Spike will be more present and a bit different, less "chad dude bro who beats up anyone and everything" and more "the Winter Soldier but he's 15".

Mr. Davenport - This one is a challenge. Do I play into him being a really bad person or do I do the opposite? Really considering the opposite, the show (especially in the beginning) is really inconsistent in his character, hes like always flip flopping between the two.

Tasha - Much like Leo and Chase, not much needs to be changed here. I will probably make her being a news reporter a bigger part of her character though.

Once I finish my rewatch, I'll start writing this. I intend to stick to the main plot, but add in some more stuff (just bcs this show is like 90% episode to episode plot lines, with the main one rarely coming into play). Also if it gets to that point, I'll probably continue the story of Elite Force (or maybe not, Idk how I would write the Mighty Med characters in this light).

Anyway though, I'm gonna start tagging all my posts about this with #labratsrealerau so if you wanna follow it along thats where you find it. If anyone has suggestions for a better tag name do let me know lol, that one is a bit clunky.

[tldrthor]

Hi everyone! I'm hitting a bit of a wall on writing bc I have so many WIPs at the moment that I'm losing focus. I want to focus on just one, but I'm not sure which! If you could vote below, I'll focus on whichever one is the most popular <3

Thank you so much!!!

[random-chaotic-bitch]

Maddi's Reaction to TBB S3 Finale

Warning: SPOILERS. LOTS AND LOTS OF SPOILERS

The episode title killed me a little bit, ngl

I mean, "The Cavalry Has Arrived". Talk about a callback lmao

Ofc Omega found a way to release the Zillo Beast. And Echo's reaction was amazing. "How do you know?" "Because it's exactly what I'd do!"

Same with Hunter, Wrecker, and Crosshair: "Echo or Omega?" "Omega." "Omega."

I was so fucking convinced that the og operative - the one with the sniper rifle - was gonna be Winter Soldier-ified Tech. Like, I was banking on it, and it turns out he was just a random clone. (I might make a rewrite changing that outcome lol)

Emerie finally became a good guy! After Episode 10, I was rooting for her to wake the fuck up haha. Glad she came to her senses, and very proud that Echo had the sense to trust her.

Oh, speaking of the not-actually-Tech operative, HE CUT CROSSHAIR'S HAND OFF?! CROSSHAIR BBY NOOOO

Ahem. I'm not mad. It's a TV show, it's not real, I'm not mad.

Sorry, where was I?

Hunter and Crosshair finally acting like brothers again makes my heart so happy. "You should stay here. I'll go after Omega." "Not a chance."

Ooh, when Echo found Omega and the other kids, the way he greeted her made me wanna cry a little bit. And the way the kids hugged her before Emerie flew them to safety - guys, my heart can't take this cuteness.

Echo's speech to the prisoners gave me Fives' battle for Kamino speech. "You've all been through enough, and you all deserve your freedom, but Omega and I can't do this alone. Will any of you help us?" compared to "We're one of the same. Same heart, same blood. And my blood's boiling for a fight." "But what about our training?" "Your training is in your blood."

Hunter, Crosshair, and Omega working together almost non-verbally to kill Hemlock was amazing. Our baby Omega has grown up so much since Season 1, and I'm so proud of her. Also, yay, Hemlock is dead!

Nala Se's "sacrifice" to destroy her work kinda made me tear up, ngl. (I say "sacrifice" because it wasn't a big thing like Tech's death, she just got shot by Rampart and dropped the detonator at his feet. It still made me tear up tho.)

Everyone recovering on Pabu made me so happy, but we didn't see Phee and Omega reunite, which was kind of a let-down. But, everyone's safe and happy, so I'll take it.

Now for the big thing: THE END SCENE

Oh my god baby Omega grew up so much. Her long hair in the really loose and messy ponytail made me so happy haha. Also, was that Hunter's bandana? TBB team, can we confirm?

Speaking of Hunter, his older look makes me so happy. No armor, just soft, comfortable clothes. (I do miss the old bandana though)

Hunter's concern about Omega becoming a Rebellion pilot is so fatherly omfg. Also, our baby is a Rebellion pilot!!

Omega's little salute to Hunter and Batcher made my heart melt a little. Seeing Tech's goggles on the dashboard also didn't help. And Hunter's final line - "She'll be fine."

Guys, I'm in awe. This episode was amazing. Laughed, cried, and melted the whole way through. Perfect ending for our favorite squad.

[luna-rainbow]

hi, different anon. i wanted to add to the thoughts but i'm shy. i assumed bucky's rules were set up because his moral compass was skewed by his time with hydra (not necessarily in a way that makes him a bad person, just in ways that alters his perspective on what situations need force and who maybr deserves rough treatment). we saw clearly in the series that bucky doesn't mind breaking the law or hurting people he considers bad, he is also impulsive and self-destructive. i always assumed the rules were given as actually needed guidance to help him face former-hydra associates.

Hello Shy Anon:

There was no indication, up until TFATWS, that Bucky was ever impulsive, or “doesn’t mind breaking the law”. He stayed under cover for 2 whole years while Steve, Hydra, and everyone else who wanted the Winter Soldier (and there were plenty, judging by Zemo’s auction) were hunting for him. The only story that characterises him as that is TFATWS which is the very series that treats him like he had agency as the Winter Soldier.

The “doesn’t mind hurting people who he thinks is bad” is kinda the defining trait of every MCU superhero so I’m not sure why Bucky specifically needed rules to stop him from doing that — except, of course, the narrative didn’t believe he was a hero until he had the magic boat-fixing scene that fixed his trauma and apparently his wonky moral compass too.

Also, the only action that comes across as impulsive is him breaking Zemo out of jail, which already makes no logical sense for Bucky to do and I’ve already talked about it at length 20 times before so I’m not going to again. Him hacking the car then calling the police to arrest the Hydra senator was highly premeditated and not an example of impulsiveness.

Sorry if I am sounding cranky, anon, but a lot of these have been discussed ad nauseum in the 12 months after the series’ release and I’m not keen to retread the issues and attract fresh disk horse. If you read the post I linked in that ask, I talked about the narrative intent in rewriting Bucky to be aggressive and volatile. The story didn’t know how to handle him except “Winter Soldier bad, he needs a (Black) found family to fix him” while ignoring the fact that he already had the same friggin arc in Civil War to Black Panther.

Also why was he being sent to face former Hydra associates on his own as part of his amends when Raynor called him a civilian?

[vicmillen]

First of all I'm writing a marvel fusion au, where Warriors is Captain America.

Secondly, I'm facing a slight plot issue that I created myself, since I forgot avengers happened before the winter soldier. So...

TWS first is what is happening in my draft rn, so the easiest. But it'll just leaves more and more holes

Avengers first would mean rewriting what I've got RN, but it'll be a lot less holes involved.

Mix is... Not gonna lie, kinda tempting. But it'll be a lot harder to pull off... But tempting... Damn.

Anyway, this is also secretly trying to promote Links Assemble, so....... :P

[pastelbatfandoms]

Agents of SHIELD (Rewrite)

A/N: This is based on my desired reality and memories. So it will not follow the show fully, obviously since I'm in it and some of the things that happen to Daisy, happen to me instead. As well as the additions of Bucky, Zemo and Clint. I am also Daisy's twin sister.

Takes place during season 1.

I would recommend checking out my Masterlist first!

Leo Fitz and Lilianne arrived at Ian Quinn's manor, peering behind Quinn's neatly trimmed hedges in the front as Lili told Fitz to activate the tracker, "Let SHIELD know where here." Fitz did as she said, pressing a button on the small black device. Then he noticed Lili's curious look and restlessness as she watched Quinn and his men enter the house.

"You want to go in." He observed. Lili shook her head, her attention still focused on Quinn, "We can't let Quinn get away again." She told Fitz, looking at him, "If Coulson were here he wouldn't want that to happen."

Fitz nodded in agreement, "You're right." As he pulled something from his backpack. "Let's do it."

"Can you disable their cars?" Lilianne asked.

"With my bare hands," Fitz replied.

Lilianne looked over at him impressed, as Fitz handed her a night night gun. "Take this."

"You'll need it," Lili frowned. "Just take it." Fitz insisted.

Lilianne hesitated for a moment almost telling him she could use her powers, then remembered that was supposed to be a secret. "Be careful out there ok," Fitz told her.

"You too," Lili answered as they went their separate ways.

Lili snuck around the back of the house, shooting two men who were guarding the door. As Fitz snuck underneath a car.

Lilianne made her way into the house, sneaking down the hallway and into a secret room. She cautiously went down the stairs using the shadows of the dimly lit entrance to hide.

It was in the room that she saw a chamber and inside that chamber was someone who she thought was dead... "Mike..." She said in quiet disbelief as she looked down at the sleeping body of fellow agent and project centipede victim, Mike Peterson. One side of his dark face and bald head were scarred from what she could only assume had been the bomb.

Before she could react, Quinn showed up, wrapping a hand around her neck as he took her gun away. "Hello. Lili, The Clairvoyant told me to expect you." Quinn let her go then as he said smoothly, "You all have been looking at us, well we've...been looking at you." He tapped the gun, "And we found some pretty interesting things."

Lili looked in disbelief as Quinn opened the chamber and pulled Peterson out. As he slowly awoke, Quinn told her what he found via the specs from the night night gun. And how he had used that to save Peterson's life as well as make him "A little gift." Lili noticed Mike had lost a leg in the explosion and watched as Quinn pulled out a large vibranium tube, lit up on the inside with the same blue serum as the gun. He attached it to Mike's leg and it started to morph into a full metal leg, the process seemed pretty painful.

Quinn walked over to Mike saying, "I know you get your orders from The Clairvoyant, so you're not allowed to hurt me right?" When Mike didn't answer, Quinn continued, "But what about her?" He gestured towards Lili. "I mean what would hurt Coulson more than to lose one of his best agents, one who's like a daughter to him, not to mention that twin of hers..."

Lili looked at him trying to hide her fear, "Mike I don't know what they did to you...though I can guess. But we have to get out of here now."

Mike ignored her looking at Quinn, "Those aren't my orders. She's not who I'm supposed to kill." He replied walking out.

"Wait." Lili went to stop him when she noticed a large dark figure appear at the door, stopping her in her tracks.

"No, they're my orders." A deep male voice said with a slight Romanian accent.

Lili looked up in shock as The Winter Soldier stepped into the room. Quinn looked on with a smirk, "Well I'll leave you to it then." As he walked away.

Lili backed away, knowing she could take him but not wanting to, especially in such small quarters. Before she could react though, The Winter Soldier pulled out a gun shooting her in the stomach. Lili looked on, confusion and hurt crossing her features. "Bucky...why..."

He only stared at her his expression cold as he then heard a commotion from outside. "SHIELD." Before he could do anything else he was told over comms not to engage. The Winter Soldier simply walked out then leaving Lilianne to bleed out on the floor as she tried to crawl towards the door...

Meanwhile outside Fitz was still disabling their vehicles when a body dropped right next to him, making him jump. He noticed there was an arrow sticking through them. Fitz crawled out from underneath the car as Clint Barton jumped down from the roof. "Where's Lili?" He asked, his tone serious. "Coulson notified me."

"She uh went after Quinn, she didn't want him to get away," Fitz told him, nervous as Coulson and the others showed up.

They nodded in understanding, going into the house. Clint and Grant Ward made short work of Quinn's men, As Coulson grabbed Quinn, putting a gun to his head. "Where's Lili?"

Quinn appeared at ease despite the gun, knowing he had the upper hand as Clint grabbed him by the back of his collar, "You know Coulson it's dangerous to keep sending her in like this, all alone. When she means so much to you."

Coulson hit Quinn angrily with the gun in response. "Search the house, find her. Now!" He ordered the team.

As Fitz and Simmons ran up the stairs, along with Clint, Ward searched downstairs as Melinda May handcuffed Quinn.

A few moments later Clint ran into the room where Lili was, seeing her bleeding out on the floor. "Oh no...Hey hey, C'mon Lili." Clint knelt down, holding her to him, as he yelled for Coulson and Simmons. "Get down here!"

They ran into the room, Coulson's face turning to one of anguish as he saw Lili in Clint's arms. "She's been shot," Clint told him, trying not to break down.

"Keep her upright," Simmons told him as she knelt to check on her.

"There's no pulse..." Clint told them.

"She's lost too much blood I don't.." Jemma Simmon's voice started to shake in panic until she looked over at the open chamber. "Put her in there."

"Do you even know what that is?" Coulson questioned.

"It's a hyperbaric chamber. And I said put her in there. Now." Simmons ordered.

They did what Simmons said, lifting Lili together and gently placing her inside the tube. They waited on baited breath as minutes ticked by until finally, Lili took a breath.

"Is it working?" Coulson demanded to know. "For now," Jemma told him, her eyes tearing up.

But she wasn't out of the woods yet as they flew her out on their plane. Jemma told them that Lili would need a hospitable soon or she could suffer permanent brain damage, the chamber was only keeping her temperature down. The atmosphere was subdued, the team heartbroken and worried, especially Coulson. But someone else was beside himself too as he waited in the rafters.

Coulson walked up the stairs to where Clint was seeing the archer hit the rail in anger. "Hey Clint, it's not your fault."

Clint shook his head, "She never should have gone in alone."

"Blaming yourself won't help her," Coulson told him.

"I don't. I blame you." Clint glared at Coulson for a moment before storming off.

A/N: This is a WIP! Planning on finishing at least this part soon!

[azriona]

Finish Your Fics February: Conclusion

Okay, I'm calling it, I'm done. My brain is tired, the next two drafts needing work are hard (and also I already worked on them this month), and I really, really want to work on some bookbinding today.

But! I have still been super productive and I'm very pleased with what I've accomplished this month:

Finished the first draft of Peggy Carter's Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day (working title but it makes me laugh)

Figured out how to end Hostage to the Winter Soldier! (also a working title that makes me laugh; also rearranged it per beta request which resulted in a bunch more words being added and my realization that it needs an almost total rewrite for the second draft, hence why I'm running in the other direction atm).

Finished edits to a later chapter of NAFTK.

Finally finished the first draft of the sort-of Tony-centric NAFTK prequel ficlet.

Started the Winterhawk Odyssey fic, and wrote a complete synopsis for what happens.

Wrote a complete synopsis for a Bucky/Reader-or-OFC-haven't-decided-which amnesia fic.

Did a lot of thinking about the Stucky fic. Still stuck on a really, really tricky scene because all characters involved are being impossible.

(Which is a lot, especially considering RL was a never-ending carousel this month.)

So I'm feeling pretty good, and I'd say this February was a success. I'm still very glad it's almost over. Because, again, carousel.

[bloodymarymorstan]

Ok so I just watched the latest episode of What If where Captain Carter (Peggy if she was Captain America) fights the Hydra Stomper (Steve if he was the Winter Soldier) because I KNEW they were once again gonna do the thing where they give all of Steve and Bucky's interactions to Peggy and Steve and say that this time they are romantic even though they definitely weren't when it was 2 very straight bros (lol) so. Let's get into it (spoilers for s2e5 of What If, obviously):

When Peggy finds out Steve is alive she goes to Nick Fury and he tells her there have been rumors of this for decades; Peggy's angry he and Natasha didn't tell her - this is interesting because in TWS Peggy was part of the organization that was hiding rumors about Bucky from Steve. Peggy is objecting to something she was part of in the actual MCU

Natasha says "the Steve Rogers that you loved died in 1953" - a similar sentiment to what people were saying to Steve about Bucky but more overtly romantic. They throw the word "love" around in the episode quite a few times, like they need to make it extra clear

Bucky (who's old and working for SHIELD) finds out Steve is alive and his reaction is pretty tame, like he's surprised and I guess happy but he doesn't really seem to care that much which is just ridiculous (especially bc in this timeline Steve and Bucky kept working together for several years after the war) - Bucky is also stated to have had a wife and kids and has clearly moved on from Steve in the way Peggy did in the original movies

The Hydra Stomper (Steve) is going to kill Bucky, Bucky stands in front of him to talk him down. He doesn't want to kill Steve which is obviously good and in character. The thing he says to try to get Steve to snap out of it is "let's get a drink" which cracked me up because is that the no homo version of "end of the line" for these writers?? Anyway, Steve does lower his gun but then he raises it again (we don't see if he would have actually killed Bucky because Peggy intervenes at this point)

There's a romantic scene where Peggy and Steve bond over their shared traumas which... shared life experience, anyone? (What If I threw myself off a cliff?) - it does turn out that Steve is secretly still brainwashed at this point and is trying to lure Peggy in so idk how seriously I should take this scene

In terms of dialogue, the final fight scene between Peggy and Steve is very similar to the one with Steve and Bucky in TWS. Eventually, Peggy drops her shield and tells Steve that she doesn't want to fight him, and is going to let him kill her. The line she says that gets him to stop is "I want to be with you. Even if this is the end. I want you." She also says "I can't lose you again." This is basically EXACTLY what "I'm with you til the end of the line means", but a bit less ambiguous (and also less poetic, the original line is obviously much better)

Steve doesn't kill Peggy, he flies off (but he also doesn't save her life like Bucky does for Steve in TWS so. Inferior)

At the end, Peggy is planning to go find Steve, even though nobody thinks she'll be able to save him (again, basically the exact same as TWS)

My concluding thoughts:

It's hard to say what Marvel's exact goal is with the phenomenon of giving so many of Steve and Bucky's interactions to Steve and Peggy in EU content, but it's definitely gotten pretty ridiculous and out of hand. There is an instinct to accuse them of homophobia and wanting to rewrite Steve and Bucky's story to make it straight/less significant, but I also wonder if the bigger factor is that the writers know that Steve and Peggy's canon ending makes no sense considering how underdeveloped their relationship was, and they want to trick viewers into thinking they had a better written romance by giving them more meaningful moments in What If (and also Rogers The Musical but that's for another post). That being said, if the best way to write a better romance you can think of is to use the exact same plotline the supposedly straight protagonist had with his male best friend (but that people have been interpreting as a romance for years and years) then maybe you should be reflecting on why that is. Ultimately though it's just lazy writing (have some originality!) and will never erase the fact that the real movies were gay as hell. I'll definitely be taking this as further proof that TWS was a romance all along.

[imtrashraccoon]

Writing Patterns/First 10 Lines Tag Game

I discovered @emeraldhazeart 's post on this but I'm afraid I don't know who started this game. It looked fun though so I spent like an hour digging up old links and writing this out lol

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

I didn't realize I'd actually posted ten but here we go! Order is from oldest to newest and only includes the Undertale works I've posted on the internet.

Siren Call 2017 (Classic Timeline feat. my first Undertale OC. Currently abandoned but I have started to rewrite it.)

A catchy tune resonated from the speakers all over the grocery store.

The Hand We've Been Dealt 2019 on Quotev or 2023 on AO3 (Underfell Timeline feat. another OC. Still in progress.)

The sunset certainly was beautiful from up here.

Crazy & Cold 2023 (A Horrortale oneshot ten years post-surfacing.)

Most people probably would've called you crazy.

Nomadic Love 2023 (A post-Echotale oneshot.)

The sun glinted off the clear ocean waves as they lapped at the sandy shoreline before receding back into their bed.

THWBD: Rihanna Lives 2023 (Alternate timeline of The Hand We've Been Dealt.)

You walked carefully through the snow, cringing slightly from the loud crunching sound it made, interrupting the otherwise quiet winter morning.

The Nightmare of Apathy 2023 (An Undertale multiverse fic in progress.)

"Don't forget to refuel your lantern before you leave!"

Nightmare Cuddles 2023 (A semi-canon oneshot for The Nightmare of Apathy.)

The soft pitter patter of rain on the bay window had lulled you into a deep slumber hours ago but now had picked up into a torrential storm.

Have Some Empathy, Dear 2024 (An Undertale multiverse fic.)

It was a dreary day today, yet despite the overcast sky and brisk breeze that often whipped snow into your face, it was the nicest it had been in days.

The Shopping List 2024 (A Classic Timeline oneshot feat. Papyrus.)

With a heavy sigh, you shut your locker and locked it with the combination lock.

A Gentle Soldier 2024 (An Undertale multiverse oneshot.)

You were simple person, just doing what you could to get by in the world.

Conclusion: I am a very descriptive/visual writer and most of the time I start out my stories with describing where the characters are or what's going on. There are a few outliers of course but I generally go for this route and apparently have the entire time I've been writing Undertale fanfiction. I think there's always places I could improve of course but I can see that I have gotten better, even in the last couple of months.

[artaxlivs]

20 Questions for Writers

Tagged by @eriquin. Thank you!

1. How many works do you have on AO3? Forty-Five

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 419,731

3. What fandoms do you write for? Stranger Things, Marvel (specifically Hawkeye based), & recently, Teen Wolf

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? (all Stranger Things)

Destroy the Silence (Drummer Steve)

An Accidental Flogging

The Second Worst Trip to Mordor Ever Taken

Even Flowers Have Their Dangers

Screw Todd, Steve's Her (His) Daddy Now

5. Do you respond to comments? Always

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? It's not angsty but this one will ruin your day and it's only 442 words: i was afraid to follow

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Almost all of my fics have happy endings but I am told that Something to Tweet About is a sticky sweet happy ending.

8. Do you get hate on fics? No but I don't write anything polarizing.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Ohhhh I write smut. 😘

10. Do you write crossovers? Not really. I write "Fandom A in Fandom B's world" types sometimes but the characters don't crossover. I wrote a Dirty Dancing Stranger Things called Nobody's Baby.

11. Are any of your fics converted into podfics? Yes! I have two by amazing podders that I'm incredibly grateful to - check them out!

Destroy the Silence read by @rufusbear

Let Me Be Your Man (I Want to Hold Your Hand) by @thirdeye1234 (RattleandHum on Ao3)

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? My Destroy the Silence is currently being translated into Russian (It's not up yet or I'd link it!)

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Nope.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? Winterhawk (Hawkeye and the Winter Soldier)

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Listen - don't come at me. I'm gonna finish all my WIPs, okay?

16. What are your writing strengths? Mmmm, story pacing, dialogue, good banter, humor, fluff, consent communication, character development and somehow working music into most of my fics.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? visual world building. I have aphantasia so sometimes I'll just forget to describe the world around them because I can't see it anyway.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I think a few common words here and there are fine but not full sentences of a language you don't speak. Advice from Brandon Sanderson that I write by: be vague or you create plot holes and inconsistencies.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Winterhawk

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? Loaded question here. I'm gonna say two. My first is actually a Steve Rogers/Clint Barton series where Clint is a soldier and meets Steve Rogers during the war - he falls from the train, not Bucky. It's called A Bird By Any Other Name and I love it. My second is Even Flowers Have Their Dangers which is Stranger Things rewrite of the end of S4 and what I think S5 would look like if Steve and the kids had turned into werewolves in the tunnels in S2.

No pressure tags: @betrayedbycinnamon @carcrash429 @noxnthea @there-must-be-a-lock @river9noble

[thegeminisage]

for never have i ever: amnesia?

HIII thank you both <333

never have i ever written amnesia, believe it or not, even though i'm a HUGE fan, as in, it's my number one bestie. actually, no, i sort of have to take that back...i've lowkey written amnesia INTO larger stuff, but never an amnesia fic on its own. so there's been: a couple of da kmeme fills with fenris who has amnesia (they're lost to the sands of time now), ben originally had amnesia during his djinn dream in @cambionverse (but it got cut and revised), and i wrote derek as having amnesia about his encounters with jennifer in anchor. but not an Actual Amnesia Fic. every time i try to think about how i'd want to do it i sort of...blank out? there's so many ways to do it i get too excited and want to do all of them at once and then something else comes along and grabs my attention. i can't tell you how many times i tried to toss around a leverage amnesia fic and just couldn't settle anywhere.

so, just off the top of my head, as a thought experiment...i'd want it to be trek because that's what i'm into rn. i actually started to formulate this as a generations fixit (kirk in the nexus can't remember his old life/that he died/something something + spock and bones pull him out) but there's a small, small, SMALL chance i might ACTUALLY write a generations fixit (sans amnesia, sadly) so i don't want to do it here and accidentally make myself less likely to do it fr in the future.

my second choice is kira/odo because i have been thinking about them nonstop for a WEEK, possibly longer. since you can't have amnesia without brainwashing, i would have odo get mindwiped and carted back to the founders or whatever. and since it's my fic and i can do what i want odo remembers like, ds9's weak points and security routines but he doesn't remember any of the people or being friends with them. so he's like helping the bad guys do evil bad guy stuff or whatever and then when the good guys are almost beat they board the defiant and he and kira are fighting until she says something important and just as she's about to go down for good he oh my fucking god i'm just rewriting the winter soldier. god damn it. maybe this is the real reason i've ever done an amnesia fic. embarrassing. winter soldier wasn't the thing that introduced me to a love of brainwashed amnesiac assassins but it is the thing that made me crazy about them. ANYWAY. let me try again.

so odo gets his memories wiped so he'll return to that great collective or whatever. and he learns what it means to Be A Changeling. he can perfect the human face like that other evil changeling that i hate. so he doesn't look like odo anymore when he changes into a humanoid form, but also he doesn't do that because THEY only did that to communicate with him and kira, so he doesn't even NEED a humanoid form. and he's like yay im so happy here i love being a changeling :) except when somebody stumbles onto their asteroid or he needs to open a door or whatever requires a humanoid form...he just winds up becoming kira. and maybe he catches sight of his/kira's face in the reflection on the water or something and is like Whoa...who is That and that other changeling lady is like dw about it come back to the goop so he does but he also keeps insisting he can't have made that form w/o seeing her and he wants to know where. and since he's got such a good sixth sense about solving unsolved mysteries he solves his own mystery of who he is and how he got there. meanwhile the ds9 gang are searching EVERYWHEREEE for him and when they finally go check the asteroid odo goes out to meet them in kiraform and is very surprised to see. kira. and everybody else is like who tf is this why is this changeling pretending to be kira but kira knows Right Away it HAS to be odo and so they recognize each other even when they aren't able to recognize each other, which is basically the same thing that happened when they met. and odo either intimidates that other changeling into giving his memories back or he remembers on his own and they leave together and live happily ever after.

WHEW. you guys thought you were throwing me softballs but i was sweating bullets over that thing. kiraodo winter soldier au would be fun as hell though don't lie

[ASK MEME]