#just another giant space thing in the lives of the Avengers

[literaryavenger]

Can I be him?

Summary: When Bucky finds something of yours, he hopes against hope that you feel the same way about him.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language cause it's me. Fluff. A lot of angst. Idiots in love. Self-deprecating thoughts, both reader and Bucky. No use of Y/N. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 4.8K

A/N: It’s 3am where I live, so… Happy 107th Birthday to my favorite Supersoldier! Today I’m posting 2 Bucky fics because my baby deserves it, this one and another one sometime around the afternoon. Hope someone likes it! Thank you to my angels @ordelixx and @mrsbuckybarnes1917 that gave me so many ideas that helped me finish this. I love you🖤

Masterlist

Being an Avenger is not easy.

The long missions, the intense training, the weight of the world on your shoulders…

Everybody on the team has a different way to unwind after a mission: Steve draws, Clint and Natasha compete doing target practice, Thor sleeps, Sam plays video games, Bucky takes motorcycle rides, Tony and Bruce work on side projects in their lab, Loki reads, Peter does his homework and Wanda cooks with Vision.

For you, it’s going to the rose garden behind the Compound.

It’s a bit of a sanctuary for you, Tony allowed you to put tall hedges of roses with a gazebo-like structure in the middle of them facing the lake, only it’s entirely made of vines.

You made it yourself, that’s your power: you can manipulate anything plant-related. 

Everytime you finish a mission the team splits up as soon as the debriefing is over and you walk straight here.

You sit on the bench, also made of vines, take out your diary and start writing.

You write about everything, from details of missions to your feelings about the team. From things you did that you don’t want to forget to things that you want to do after you’re not so tired anymore.

The hedges hide you from view and the only thing you can see when you’re here is the lake.

Sometimes, after a particular difficult mission, you don’t even write. You just sit there and look out into the water, the sunshine or moonlight shining down on you, and you feel at peace.

It helps that nobody else ever comes here. The team understands it’s your safe space, and the agents are mostly scared of your powers ever since you grew a giant carnivorous plant and it bit an agent that squeezed your ass during training. 

The agent got both taken to the medbay and suspended on the same day, and you got the thanks of about a dozen girls that had the same problem with the same asshole.

You walk out of the conference room, the debriefing of the team’s latest mission just wrapped up, and like usual everyone scatters to their own after-mission ritual.

Today, though, you can’t concentrate on anything.

Your feet take you to the rose garden by reflex, but your brain doesn’t even register you’re there until you sit on the bench.

Today’s mission took a lot out of you, not just because of the amount of magic you had to use to get everyone out safely, but also because it was your fault the team was in so much danger in the first place.

You fucked up your task, Natasha had to step in and save your ass, moving away from her post and making her late for her own task and that derailed the entire mission.

At the end, you had to use your powers to take out the hundreds of Hydra agents at the same time, which is no small feat and made you almost pass out.

Everybody told you on the way home not to worry, the mission was successfully accomplished and everyone made it out safely, but you know that if it wasn’t for your screw up the team would’ve gotten in and out of base without so much as a scratch. 

Nobody had fatal injuries, thank God, but Sam got shot in the leg, Clint got stabbed and everyone else had various degrees of injuries because Hydra got the jump on the team.

Because of me.

That was all you kept thinking about. Your brain had a field day making up all kinds of scenarios where your mistake cost someone’s life, a few of them even had the entire team dying because of your stupidity. 

You were so caught up in your head that you didn’t even notice someone following you to the rose garden.

Not that you ever do. 

If there’s one thing Bucky Barnes knows how to do, is move around undetected. He’s a master assassin, he was trained for this for over 50 years, he knows how to be a shadow.

Except now he uses his skills for good during missions and, occasionally, to follow you.

Not in a creepy way, of course, just to check on you. At least that’s the excuse he always uses so he won’t have to admit to himself that what he does is, indeed, a little creepy.

But he can’t help himself, Bucky knew from the moment he saw you that he was fucked. 

The moment you walked into the room to meet the team his heart was yours. You stole it with one simple smile, with one look of your beautiful eyes.

You introduced yourself and shook hands with everyone, but when you looked at Bucky he felt like a light came on and it was just you two.

You shook his hand and he felt like he had to take it off and give it to you, it was yours now. His hand, his arm, his leg, his head, his heart, his soul. Everything he is was now yours, he just knew it.

Then you said his name and he could’ve died right there and then. It was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard, and it was barely two syllables. Every word you said, every laugh and sound that came out of your pretty mouth, Bucky felt like it was all for him. Nobody else mattered.

Bucky knew then he was in love.

But he didn’t know how to approach you. You were like a fairy, like a princess. Growing flowers, always smiling, baking, growing everyone’s favorite flowers and always willing to help, like growing Aloe when Wanda burned herself cooking, or Chamomile to help with Tony’s anxiety, or Valerian roots whenever someone was feeling down. 

You were like sunshine and he was terrified he’d kill your light. But he’d be damned if he’d let the world kill it either, he’d protect you with his life.

So he took to following you, making sure you were safe from a distance.

But it’s not like he never talked to you, the more time you spent with the team the more comfortable Bucky got around you and eventually you became friends.

Bucky knew you could take care of yourself, you were one of the strongest members of the team, but he didn’t like it when you were in your rose garden by yourself. The tall hedges made it impossible to see incoming danger, so he kept an eye on you just to be sure.

For his own piece of mind. And you never saw him.

That was Bucky’s actual way to unwind after a mission.

He’d tell everybody he was going for a ride on his bike, but he’d drive it through the woods around the compound and to the other side of the lake where he’d have a perfect view of you without you knowing. 

Deep down he knew it was a little creepy, he could just ask you if he could join you, but he felt like you needed your time alone without anyone else around, and he knew if he asked you, you’d say yes no matter what you were feeling, because that’s just the kind of person you are.

So Bucky watched you from afar, always careful not to be seen. He watched you write for hours, it relaxed him to see your beautiful face so concentrated.

Sometimes you’d laugh quietly at what you were writing and those were the only times Bucky was grateful for the supersoldier serum that allowed him to hear such a beautiful sound even with so much distance between you.

But it was torture for him when he knew you had a bad day. Sometimes you’d hug your knees and cry, Bucky could tell how much you’d need a hug, and it killed him that he couldn’t just walk up to you and hug you.

Everytime he sees you cry his heart breaks a little and he always tries to make you feel better when you walk back inside. He doesn’t ask you what’s wrong, he just tries to make you laugh. But all he wanted to do was dry your tears.

You did notice Bucky always seemed to act a little goofy when you're feeling down, like he somehow knew, but you never thought much of it.

You knew he was a very observant person, so you assumed he just saw your mood through your behavior better than most.

Bucky loves hanging out with you, even if it’s just as friends. You make fun of him like with everyone else, you don’t treat him like could explode at any moment, never walking on eggshells around him like most people do.

You’ve never been afraid of him, and he’s glad that you don’t treat him like glass. You treat him like everyone else, and it makes him feel normal.

Everytime time he hangs out with you, you take him back to a time where he was unbroken. You make him feel alive again.

And he falls more in love with you by the second because of it. You’re all he wants, he wants to have you and kiss your lips and never let anyone hurt you. That’s all he can think about, but he knows that’s not gonna happen.

He heard you talk to Natasha and Wanda, heard that there’s someone you’d gone on a few dates with. But Bucky knows that guy doesn’t deserve you, nobody does.

Even Bucky himself doesn’t deserve you, you’re too pure for anyone in this world, but if there’s someone that has any chance of making you happy, Bucky prays to God that that someone is him.

Bucky knows today’s mission shook you deeply. He knows you blame yourself, and no amount of reassurance will make you believe that everything is okay.

So today, for the first time, Bucky actually follows you. He can see your unfocused eyes even as you walk and he wants to be near you, just in case.

He almost walks to you when you curl up on the bench and start sobbing quietly, but he holds back not wanting to startle or upset you further.

He just listens to your soft cries until you stop and compose yourself. You sigh and get up, walking back to the Compound to take a much needed relaxing shower.

But you’re still so much in your own head that you don’t even notice you left your diary on the bench in the gazebo. 

Bucky did notice, though.

He’s tempted to call after you and tell you, but something deep down tells him not to. He waits until you’re gone and then walks to the bench, picking up your diary and opening it.

He doesn’t know why, he knows it’s wrong, these are your private thoughts, but he’s just drawn to it for some reason.

When he starts reading he notices you don’t mention any specific names, which makes sense because only you read it, you know who you’re writing about. He reads a page here and there, reading about your missions or lazy days. 

He reads about some memories with the team you wrote about, some he remembers and others he probably wasn’t there for, but seeing all these memories from your point of view does something to him.

It makes him feel connected to you, makes him feel like he’s reading your heart and soul, because he kind of is. Then he reads something that captures his attention completely. 

You write about eyes blue like the ocean and just as troubled, about a smile that could light up the world. You write about someone with a complicated past that never lost his spark, never lost his love for life. 

A man that went through hell, and never once took it out on the world. A man that didn’t ever blame the world, even when he had every right to, choosing instead to protect it. 

You filled pages and pages with everything you admire about this man, everything you love about him that you know he hates. 

And Bucky feels like every word you wrote, you wrote for him. But could this be him? Could he be the one you talk about in all your stories?

He wants to. He wants this to be him. He prays you’re talking about him. He wishes this could be him… Who is he kidding?

Of course it’s not me. 

It’s probably the guy you’ve been dating. Yeah, that’s it. You’re in love with that guy, that much is clear. 

Bucky gets to the page where you write about your dates with the guy, but he can’t read them.

He closes the diary, not knowing that you compared your date to Bucky every step of the way. Not knowing that you granted the guy a second date just to be sure he couldn’t compare to Bucky, and went on a third date at a coffee shop just to let him down gently.

Bucky didn’t read how you know he’s the one for you, he didn’t read his own name written in your handwriting, the only name in your whole diary because he’s the only person you never want to forget, even though you know you never will.

But Bucky didn’t read that.

He puts your diary back where it was on the bench and, with his heart broken and his hope that one day you could be his lost, he goes back inside and to his room.

It’s only when you go back to the rose garden after your shower that you notice you left your diary there, but don’t think much of it. Nobody ever comes here anyway, as far as you know.

After finding out you’re in love with someone else, Bucky can’t stop himself from acting differently towards you, which you don’t fail to notice.

It’s not like he’s mean, but your interactions get shorter, like he tries his best to end the conversation quickly.

He no longer sits close to you, no longer tries to make you laugh when you’re feeling down, doesn’t hang out with you as much during your down time and if he does, it’s never just the two of you anymore.

It’s silly to say, but you miss him.

Bucky knows he’s been distancing himself, he knows you’ve noticed and he can see it’s affecting you, but he’s doing this to protect himself.

He knows it’s only a matter of time before you present your boyfriend to the team, the man you’re in love with and he doesn’t want it to hurt more than necessary.

You decide not to push Bucky, knowing he has his reasons to pull away from you. Maybe he’s just trying to deal with all the stress the team’s been under and you don’t want to add any more to that, so you let him be.

A few weeks later the team’s on their sixth mission in just as many days and everyone is exhausted. You’ve been taking down Hydra base after Hydra base, because waiting too long meant losing your chance to shut down their operations for good before they got the opportunity to leave.

You’ve been dividing in smaller teams to take down the bases while still giving the team a chance to recuperate, but this last one was the biggest and required the whole team together, which sucked for you because you were in the last team with Steve and Bucky that took down a base just yesterday, so the three of you got barely a few hours of sleep while you flew to the last base.

You’ve cleared the base, all that’s left is the agents in the courtyard who are really going down fighting. The whole team is outside now, the Hydra agents giving you a hell of a fight. You’re using your magic against your better judgment, giant vines coming out of your arms like whips, covered in poisonous thorns. One touch of that and anyone would go down immediately, everyone except you.

Or at least that’s what you think.

As you’re fighting you can see an agent trying to sneak up on Bucky who’s fighting near you, so you quickly take care of it for him.

Bucky turns around and sees the agent down and then looks at you with that charming smile you fell in love with and winks at you. “Thank you, doll.”

That’s the friendliest Bucky’s been towards you in weeks and you can’t help but smile back with a small blush.

You can see the last agent standing coming at you from your peripheral vision and you quickly whip him with a vine, taking him down as soon as you can so you can turn back to look at Bucky, still smiling at you.

Bucky’s smile drops quickly, though, as he sees your face draining of any color. You barely have the time to register the sting of your own thorn on your arm that you’re already falling to the ground.

Bucky tries to catch you, but he gets thrown back by your magic that goes into defense mode, creating a wall of thorns to protect your now unconscious body.

The team doesn't know what to do, none of them know enough about plants to be sure that these thorns wouldn’t just kill them all.

The only one that would know that is you, the person that’s passed out, or worse, trapped in the midst of a cocoon of thorns.

“Okay, we need to find a safe way to-” Steve starts but cuts himself off almost immediately. “What are you doing?!”

Bucky doesn’t even turn around to answer, too intent on breaking the thorns around you with his metal arm, not caring that the thorns are ripping his clothes and scratching his face, all he can think about is getting to you.

He finally manages to get through to you, but nobody can follow because your magic regrows the thorns Bucky broke, trapping him with you inside the cocoon.

But Bucky doesn’t care, his eyes never leaving your face as he kneels behind you, running a finger softly along your cheek and shivering when he feels your skin is cold as ice.

His mind goes to the worst possibility, that there’s nothing he can do, but his brain gives him some hope reasoning that your magic wouldn’t be working if you were dead.

Right?

He snaps out of his thoughts when he feels the thorns around you vibrate, he takes you in his arms and shields you with his body from whatever is about to happen.

But the only thing that happens is the shade cast by the thorns gets replaced by sunlight. Bucky looks up and realizes Wanda used her magic to lift the thorn cocoon.

“You couldn’t have done that before?!” Bucky barks at Wanda with a glare while carefully picking you up to take you to the Quinjet.

“She’s not the dumbass that threw himself headfirst in a mess of thorns without even considering another course of action!” Natasha came in Wanda’s defense, though she seemed more amused at Bucky’s antics than annoyed.

As the team heads back home in the jet, Bruce examines you and lets the team know you’re still alive but in a sort of coma.

Their relief is cut short when Bruce makes it known that he has no idea when, or if, you’ll wake up.

As soon as the Quinjet lands you’re taken to the medbay and hooked up to machines, an IV in your arm to keep you hydrated.

Bucky holds your hand through it all, staying all night next to you just in case you wake up. He didn’t want you to be freaked out and alone, he wanted to be the first person to see your beautiful eyes open.

When morning comes, though, you’re still unconscious, but Bucky doesn’t lose hope. You probably need a good sleep.

That’s what he tells himself for two, three, four days.

That’s what he keeps telling himself for a week, two weeks. Never once leaving your side, not eating unless Steve brings him food and makes sure he eats before leaving, and using the bathroom of your room in the medbay.

He barely sleeps and, when he does, he dreams of you.

Everyone was getting worried about him, he refused to leave your side until one day Steve came into your room to tell Bucky there was something wrong with your rose garden.

Bucky was torn between staying with you and seeing what Steve was talking about, but decided that it would kill you if something happened to your roses so he had to make sure everything was okay when you woke up.

Because you’re going to wake up.

Bucky follows Steve to your rose garden, and his eyes widen in horror as soon as he sees it. The roses, the hedges, the vines.

Everything is dying.

Bucky’s heart breaks, only one thought in his mind. If your plants are dying, does that mean you’re slowly dying too?

No. That’s unacceptable. You’re not gonna die, not if Bucky has anything to do with it.

He takes it upon himself to take care of your garden, watering it and doing everything he can to keep the roses and vines alive, fooling himself into believing that this will keep you alive.

He stays on the gazebo day and night, sleeping on the bench, spending every waking moment trying to keep a hold of even the smallest part of you.

But it���s not enough. Nothing is enough.

Bucky loses track of how many days he’s been in your garden, sleeping maybe an hour at a time here and there, watering the roses every few hours and crying the rest of the time.

After all it’s his fault, if he hadn’t distracted you none of this would’ve happened. You’d be in your beautiful garden, probably with your boyfriend, and the only broken thing would be Bucky’s heart.

That he could’ve lived with. 

But how can he live with the knowledge that he caused your end? That he killed your light? That he killed his sunshine, his hope, the love of his life? He can’t live with that.

Not that he has to.

While Bucky’s spiraling while surrounded by dying roses, inside your room in the medbay you’re finally waking up after almost a month.

You open your eyes slowly, looking around you at the hospital-like room. There’s nobody around and, as you look at the window, you can see it’s really late at night.

You sit up and try to make sense of what happened while rubbing your eyes. The last thing you remember is Bucky’s bright smile, and then nothing.

You look down at your arm and see an IV, which you take out while frowning. How long have you been sleeping?

You carefully get off the bed and make your way outside to your rose garden, just to be sure everything’s okay. It’s not like anyone’s gonna stop you anyway.

When you get close, the moonlight shines on the hedges and you gasp at what you see. Your beautiful roses withering away, the gazebo made of vines dying too.

But the most confusing thing is the sobs coming from the bench, although no one’s sitting on it.

You get closer and see Bucky sitting in front of the bench while hugging his knees and crying softly. You frown and get a little closer before stopping, not wanting to startle him.

“Bucky…” You say quietly and his head snaps up, his eyes instantly meeting yours.

For a moment it feels like he’s trying to decide if you’re real, he reaches out and you extend your hand to take his. That seems to convince him and he gasps.

“Doll…” His voice is barely above a whisper, almost as if he thinks if he makes too much noise you’ll disappear.

“What’s wrong?” You ask him while getting a little closer to him, concern clear in your every feature.

It’s only when you get closer that you see his face full of cuts and you frown. Those are not just any scratches, it’s clear to you that they were made by thorns. “D-did… Did I do this to you?” 

You’re kneeling in front of him now, one hand still in his one the other comes up to trace the cuts in his face softly, but he takes your hand in his and kisses your palm.

“I’m okay…” He reassures you.

Just then he realizes, you’re fussing over him when you’re the one that’s been in a coma for a month. “Are you okay? How long have you been awake?” 

“I… I just woke up.” You tell him honestly, then look around at the dying roses and vines before looking back at him. “What happened to me?”

“You got stung by one of your poisonous thorns.” He says quietly, his thumbs rubbing circles on your skin while he refuses to let go of you. “You’ve been unconscious for almost a month.”

“A month?!” You’re shocked at the news, not knowing what to say or do, so you just stay there while letting the information sink in. The silence is broken by Bucky after a minute.

“I’m sorry about your roses… I tried to keep them alive, but…” He looks around with a hopeless expression. “I failed you.”

Your heart breaks a little. Does he really think he failed you?

You take a deep breath, then close your eyes and when you open them again a second later everything’s back to normal. The roses are as beautiful as ever, the gazebo just as majestic. It’s like nothing ever happened.

Bucky looks around in awe when he feels you take his chin and you make him look at you.

“You could never fail me.” You say firmly, wanting him to understand you mean it. You look at the cuts around his face and you can’t help the guilt and pain that you feel deep within you. “I’m sorry…”

“It wasn’t your fault.” It’s like Bucky can read your thoughts, he knows all you can see are your faults, and he wants you to know he doesn’t blame you for anything. “You weren’t even conscious. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I never wanted to be one of the people that hurt you…” Your voice is a whisper as a tear escapes you. “The world hurt you so much already… I never wanted to be part of that. You don’t deserve it.”

Bucky frowns. He feels like he’s heard those words, but where? No, he didn’t hear them. He read them. He read them in your diary, where you wrote about the man you’re in love with. Could it be possible?

Could I be him?

“It’s me…” He says lower than a whisper, his eyes locked on yours, and it’s your time to be confused now.

“What?” You ask him with a frown while wiping your cheeks.

“It’s me you’re in love with.” His voice is a little louder, but firm. He’s not asking you, he’s making a statement.

Your eyes widen in surprise, you almost take your hands away from his but his hold prevents you from doing that.

“I-I… What?” Is all you can bring yourself to say, confused as to why he’s so sure of it. Are you really that transparent?

“I read your diary…” Bucky says, guilt written all over his face, but at least he’s owning up to it. “You wrote about the man you love… and you wrote the same thing you just told me. It’s me, isn’t it? You love me back?” His voice is more hopeful now, his confident demeanor weavering.

“You… You read my diary?” You say, your mind still playing catch up.

It’s only a moment later that you register the ‘love me back’ and you don’t give him a chance to apologize or justify himself before you’re speaking again. “You love me?!” 

Bucky hesitates a moment but nods firmly. “I love you, doll. I’ve loved you since the moment I met you.” 

You feel like someone punched you and all the air has left your body. You have no idea what to say, so you don’t say anything.

Instead you lean in and kiss him.

Bucky wastes no time kissing you back, but a thought pops into his mind and he reluctantly pulls back. “What about your boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend?” You frown again, having no idea what he’s talking about. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“You don’t?” Bucky feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders and he pulls you to straddle him. “What about the guy you went on a few dates with?”

You narrow your eyes at him but decide to table the conversation about how he knows that for another time, so you smile at him and decide to just be honest with him.

“Do you honestly think that anyone could ever measure up to you? Because if you do, you’re an idiot.” Bucky grins and kisses you again. 

Maybe he is an idiot. But when he’s the idiot you’re in love with, how much of an idiot can he really be?

It looks like he can be him after all.

[azdoine]

Whenceforth art thou, Hell?

Nona the Ninth appears to confirm Abigail Pent's suspicion that the River has been deliberately broken or sealed, per the comments of Varun and Alecto:

The Captain’s voice was like old teeth. “He left them too long—you left them too long, my salt thing.” ... Afterward Alecto went down to the ship and stood before John, purposing to travel through the River, and was grieved to find it yet dead.

However, a common thread of discussion I see in theorycrafting goes that if John has closed whatever gates may lead beyond the River, then his actions here are somehow for the sake of sustaining necromancy as an institution - as if, at the eleventh hour, we'll learn that all magic has somehow been fueled by burning through God's giant Philosopher's Stone all along. I cannot accept this interpretation. To me, it raises an infinite regression: how could John possibly have used necromancy in order to invent necromancy?

Moreover, this kind of plot twist disregards the internal logic and deflates the significance of TLT's social critique. The Tower doesn't need to be a secret hydroelectric dam in the River for converting human damnation into worldly power, because the engine of suffering has been in the real world the entire time, and it's just called colonialism. The price to be paid for working necromancy is a price to be paid overtly and in this life, either by the coin of explicit necrocapital or by the coin of grief.

If the path to a hypothetical River Beyond has been closed, I think it's for a much more banal psychological reason: John is a mission-oriented avenger who refuses to accept any check on the reach of his judgement.

“There can be no forgiveness for those who walked away,” he said. “Just as there can be no forgiveness for me—even though I rip the very fingers from my hands … throw them into the jaws of the monsters who hunt me … as I run from them across the universe, end to end. Something will satisfy them eventually, but nothing satisfies me. Nothing.” He drew his gaze away from her—his black-and-white, chthonic stare—and looked out over the dunes. He said, “But that’s the grace of it, Harrow. If I’m God, I can start over. The flood, you know? You can wash things clean. That’s all the end of Earth was … making things clean. It gets dirty again, you clean it again. Like those old power-washing ads. Spray and walk away, right? Sometimes I think the only reason I haven’t done it already is that I can’t bear the idea that I wouldn’t be able to touch them—that they’d still be out there…"

People regularly overlook the psychological significance of John's long reach in the context of understanding his behavior. Death and physical distance are no escape from a sufficiently powerful necromancer, because his enemies can be summoned out of the River - which bridges locations across unimaginable gulfs of space - and subjected to further torments in person.

(this is another reason I don't believe that John's expansionist project is being carried out in order to hunt down and slaughter the resettled generational descendants of the trillionaires; based on what we've read, John simply shouldn't need to settle for such a pointless blood feud, let alone carry out his revenge-by-proxy in the physical world. however it came to be that the dead are trapped within the River, everyone who lives is certain to enter his kingdom of death eventually, to sit and wait for him to sieve them from the waters.)

From here, it also makes sense on John's part to arrange for a specific place for the interment of problematic souls. He has to be able to keep some people pinned in place in the palm of his grave-dirt hand - otherwise he leaves a potential attack surface for anyone to try to summon the dead as their witnesses and ask for incriminating information about the King Undying. John certainly admits to deliberately leaving many souls on ice in proportion to their moral desert, for which Harrow accuses him of malfeasance:

"We’ll get them all back … some of them, anyway … or at least, the ones I want to bring back. Anyone I feel didn’t do it. Anyone I feel had no part in it. Anyone I can look at the face of and forgive. And my loved ones … The ones I left, I’ll bring back." ... "I want to know how many of the Resurrection are left, and how many you began with, and what the discrepancies are. I want to know where you put them. They didn’t go into the River. I want to know why she was angry … and why you were terrified."

Alecto The Ninth is set to invoke the harrowing of hell, but I still think we have to be very careful not to overstate these mythological allusions or buy into John's mystique here. The Locked Tomb is a setting with an intensely organic and visceral metaphysics, where the embodiments of the divine - Alecto and John, John's hands and gestures, the human soul itself - are "merely" congregations of smaller powers. "God is a dream, Harrow, and you all dream me together" - the secular minutiae of life and magic are divine only where we remember they're worth deifying!

As John's godhood was once demystified to expose him as an oversized Lyctor, if I want to understand the nature of Hell and the Tower in advance of Alecto, I think I have to let go of my assumption that the answers to all of these questions isn't hidden in plain sight, that there must be a dizzying twist. Let's assume a man did it, and not a god; and ask, how would any man go about trapping ten billion souls or damming the River?

[invncibleiron]

@fasciinating liked this for a starter

Once upon a time, the idea of working day in and day out with an alien might have been surreal. Now, however, Tony lived in a tower filled with (1) a giant green monster that was trying to eat him out of house and home; (2) a former Russian spy with a ballet studio on the tenth floor they all pretended not to know about; (3) a super-soldier who'd spent the last seven decades as a popsicle and was now re-learning his way around the twenty-first century; (4) a circus performer/archer; and (5) a literal god who could control thunder and and had a magical hammer only he could pick up. So the Vulcan's arrival, while strange and thrilling at first, had eventually become just another weird addition to the long list of weird things that meant being an Avenger. Spock joining the Avengers had only solidified that idea.

"Do they have gyros on your planet?" Tony asked, dropping a bag of takeout onto the kitchen table. Immediately, the other Avengers came out of the woodwork, with Hawkeye--the archer--actually dropping out of the vent--something that, a year ago, would have startled Tony out of his skin but now didn't so much as make him flinch. "If there's any more when we get back, we'll tackle that then," he decided. Super-soldiers and mutant street fighters tended to have big appetites. "Let me give you the tour." Tony nodded for Spock to follow him. While it wasn't strictly a requirement--they had members on their roster that lived whole continents away and some that frequently disappeared into space for months at a time--joining the Avengers meant a room in the tower and access to the facilities: the workshop, the training room, the gym, and Tony's wallet.

[aromantic-eight]

Rolling in 15 minutes late to pinned posts. Here will be my custom fandom tags, because I am allergic to touching the main tags. Recent fandoms:

The Locked Tomb Series (f: the inherent eroticism of bones)

Gideon/Harrow (r: i wanted you to eat me)

Arknights (f: powered by apocalypse ore)

Gacha game sideblog: Theabysscomeshome

Other fandoms:

Bungo Stray Dogs (f: raise your hand if you’re NOT an orphan with a tragic past)

Honkai Impact 3rd (f: this is a story about love and it will end with love)

Genshin Impact (f: pay no attention to the gods behind the curtain)

Honkai Impact 3rd (f: this is a story about love and it will end with love) Avatar: The Last Airbender (f: it’s a new kind of world) Critical Role: Vox Machina (f: i’m just surprised that people like us) Daredevil (f: what about hope) Doctor Who (f: mind the plants) Dragon Age (f: smoke and mirrors) Elementary (f: connections) Fire Emblem (f: the sexy chess game)

    Three Houses (f: this is fine)

    Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn (f:angry birds)

Gravity Falls (f: trust no one) Harry Potter (f: within these ancient halls) High Rollers Aerois (f: at least they’re not cows) Juno Steel, Penumbra Podcast (f: and then they became space pirates) Legend of Korra (f: dorks try to save the world) Leverage (f: five bad band)

    Parker - ch: i didn’t even stab him

    Eliot/Hardison/Parker - dynamic: we change together

Marvel (f: how many ragnaroks is too many ragnaroks)

    Young Avengers (f: you have a supervillain on speed dial)

    Runaways (f: how do you hero again?)

    Loki - ch: i know what i’m doing

Norse Mythology (m: in the absence of goats) Pacific Rim (f: and then we built a giant robot) RWBY (f: it’s also a gun)     -Ruby - ch: it’s also a customizable high impact sniper rifle     -Ren - ch: please do nothing to the cook     -Nora - ch: thunder     -Taiyang - ch: buff marshmallow     -Raven - ch: run     -Qrow - ch: bird.exe     -Summer - ch: sad but determined bedsheet     -Ironwood - ch: and you did your very best     -Oz/pin - ch: i’m sorry     -Oscar - ch: another one of his lives     -Cinder - ch: like hunger     -Salem - ch: this isn’t a threat     -RWBY - dynamic: girl’s night     -JNPR - dynamic: just hit em with the hammer     -JNR - dynamic: this is my family     -STRQ - dynamic: he’s good isn’t he     -Ruby/Penny - dynamic: you light up my life     -Oz/Salem - dynamic: amicable divorce     -Ironwood/Qrow - dynamic: some good     -Oz/Qrow - dynamic: i’m amazed that you ever loved me     -Ironwood/Oz - r: you have to trust me     -Ironwood/Oz/Qrow - r: call me maybe Second Citadel, Penumbra Podcast (f: paladin morality crisis) She-Ra (f: the power of love and stuff) Star Wars (f: where is your balance now) Stargate Atlantis (f: city of dreams (and nightmares)) Stargate SG-1 (f: the things I’ve heard sitting in this chair) Supernatural (f: pretty trash horror) The Magnus Archives (f: avatar the last fearbender)     -Jo(h)n Sims - ch: the h is silent     -Martin - ch: if we were all happy that wouldn’t actually be the end of the world     -Tim - ch: rating the institute 0 on yelp     -Gertrude - ch: cackling     -Elias - ch: immortality never ends badly for anyone     -Peter - ch: leave me alone     -Jared - ch: they’re all my favorite     -Jon/Martin - r: sometimes romance is getting some goddamned rest The Mechanisms (f: gotta say i’m in the mood for violence) Welcome to Night Vale (f: [muffled sound of reality breaking]) White Collar (f: communication is the cornerstone of a healthy relationship)

[tonystarkbingo]

TSB Round 7 - Week 20/21!

It was another party weekend, and we've had some fantastic fills as a result! Be sure to check them out!

Collaborator: deehellcat Card Number: 7014 Square Filled: R4 - new team Title: Esprit de Corps Link: AO3 Pairings: pre-ironstrange Word Count: 1258 Rating: Gen Major Tags/Triggers: PTSD, Misuse of Magic, Grumpy Stephen Strange, Canon Divergence—post CACW, New Team Summary: Strange isn’t sold on this whole ‘new Avengers’ thing he’s gotten sucked into, and especially not on the idea of having to work with the most annoying person on this plane of existence, Tony Stark.

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Collaborator: SomeSortofItalianRoast Card Number: 7012 Square Filled: K1 - Thor Title: cross the sky for your love Link: AO3 Pairings: Tony Stark/Thor Word Count: 2170 Rating: Teen Major Tags/Triggers: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, First Kiss, Injury Summary: Tony had spent years learning how to live as Tony Stark and as Iron Man. He'd never thought he'd be racing across the sky against time itself as he tried to save his Soulmate.

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Collaborator: tinystark616 Card Number: 7008 Square Filled: Adopted - Canon Divergence Title: The Right Time Link: AO3 Pairings: Tony/Steve Word Count: 2753 Rating: Mature Major Tags/Triggers: Pining, love confessions, angst with a happy ending Summary: Steve fell in love with Tony on the day they met. The problem is, he's scared that telling Tony how he feels will ruin their friendship. He keeps that secret for eleven years. Or, Five times Steve doesn't tell Tony he loves him, and one time he does.

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Collaborator: deehellcat Card Number: 7014 Square Filled: R2 - billionaire Title: In Season At All Times Link: AO3 Pairings: Tony/Bruce Word Count: 1543 Rating: Gen Major Tags/Triggers: Canon Divergence--post-Age of Ultron, Gardening, Science Husbands, the Russos whomst, Tony’s Love Language is Gifts, Bruce Banner Deserves the World Summary: They were just trying to decompress from yet another insane callout. Tony was randomly flipping the tv remote, muttering “how is it there are ten thousand channels and literally nothing worth a flying fuck to watch—” “Hey.” He thought Bruce was asleep in his arms, but suddenly he sat forward, his eyes on the screen. “Hey, Tony, stop there. What’s this?” “Um, people with big green fruits, of some kind.” Tony discovers his boyfriend’s secret yearning, and true to form, takes it to the limit.

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Collaborator: deehellcat Card Number: 7014 Square Filled: A3 - free space Title: Love Is A Fruit Link: Tumblr Pairings: Tony/Bruce Word Count: na Rating: Gen Major Tags/Triggers: Canon Divergence--post-Age of Ultron, Gardening, Science Husbands, the Russos whomst, Tony’s Love Language is Gifts, Bruce Banner Deserves the World Summary: Tony discovers his boyfriend’s secret yearning for a peaceful life in the garden, and true to form, takes it to the limit, by lining up a team of Stark Industries botanists to breed a giant green gooseberry he can patent and name after Bruce.

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Collaborator: scottxlogan Card Number: 7017 Square Filled: R3 - AU: Non-Powered Title: Tempted Link: AO3 Pairings: Tony Stark/Bucky Barnes Word Count: 7282 Rating: Explicit Major Tags/Triggers: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bodyguard Bucky Barnes, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fake Dating, Tony Stark Has PTSD, Single Parent Tony Stark, Panic Attacks, Stalker, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Tony Stark has a stalker, Past Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Past Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Swearing, Adult Content, Explicit Language, Dirty Talk, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Parent Tony Stark, Tony Stark Has Issues, Flirting, War Veteran Bucky Barnes, Mild Blood Summary: Tony Stark's life takes an unexpected turn when after months of being bombarded, an antonymous stalker takes things a touch too far sending Tony and Morgan's lives into a tailspin. When Pepper reaches out to an old friend for assistance after Tony refuses to heed her advice, sexy bodyguard Bucky Barnes shows up at Tony's doorstep ready to get to the heart of the problem taking place. Armed with a new mission and a cover story posing as Tony's new live-in lover meant to explain Bucky's presence in Tony's life, the two find their way to solving Tony's stalker problem together while flirting with danger and romance along the way.

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Collaborator: Scottxlogan Card Number: 7017 Square Filled: T1 - Only One Bed Title: Lazy Weekend Link: AO3 Pairings: Bucky Barnes/Tony Stark/Steve Rogers Word Count: 1375 Rating: Mature Major Tags/Triggers: Domestic Fluff, Tony's POV, Threesome - M/M/M, Polyamory, Implied Sexual Content, Fluff, Morning Cuddles, Sleepy Cuddles, Established Relationship, contemplations, Reflection Summary: Snuggled in bed with his lovers, Tony contemplates how far they've come together from their sexy beginnings.

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Collaborator: scottxlogan Card Number: 7017 Square Filled: K3 - Pepperony Title: The Contingency Plan Link: AO3 Pairings: Tony Stark/Pepper Potts Word Count: 3460 Rating: Teen Major Tags/Triggers: Post-Canon Fix-It, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), post-Endgame, Light Angst, Reunions, Angst with a Happy Ending, past Emma Frost/Tony Stark, Grief/Mourning Summary: Following the events of Endgame Pepper tries her best to move forward with life to continue Tony's dream, but when a surprise visit from Emma Frost offers Pepper a mysterious alternative to her grief, Pepper learns of a contingency plan that Tony left in place before his passing. Will it prove to be the key to happiness for Pepper and Morgan moving forward?

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Collaborator: illogicalkat Card Number: 7009 Square Filled: S5 - "Let me do it" Title: Handle with care Link: AO3 Pairings: Tony Stark/Bucky Barnes Word Count: 456 Rating: Teen Major Tags/Triggers: description of dead animal Summary: Tony arrives at his boyfriend's house and learns Bucky hasn't had the best day.

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Collaborator: rebelmeg Card Number: 7001 Square Filled: S5 - Tony x Happiness Title: Laugh Lines Link: Tumblr Pairings: Pepperony, Iron Family Word Count: 1003 Rating: Gen Major Tags/Triggers: domestic bliss, married life, slowly growing old together, grossing out your kid on purpose Summary: Pepper has spent years watching the subtle (and sometimes unsubtle) ways Tony's face has changed. This one is probably her favorite.

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Collaborator: endlesstwanted Card Number: 7010 Square Filled: T2 - Asking for trouble Title: Picking Love Link: AO3 Pairings: Bucky Barnes/Sarah Wilson Word Count: 2095 Rating: Teen Major Tags/Triggers: Modern: No Powers, Meet-Cute, Flirting, Minor Steve/Tony Summary: Tony takes Bucky to the farmers’ market as an excuse to meet with his new fling, but Bucky makes the best out of it with the idea to bake something for his sister’s birthday.

[theresattrpgforthat]

Theme: Failure as Growth.

Hello friend, two sections to this post! Many Powered by the Apocalypse games reward failure with a point of XP. I think this both provides a mechanical incentive to try things that might not work out, and also rewards players with growth, indicating that failure is part of how you get better. Let’s start with a few PbtA games that do this, and then move on to some other games.

Masks: A New Generation by Magpie Games.

A giant robot is smashing down Main Street. Your best friend tried to kiss you. Your mom thinks your grades need work. Your mentor thinks your team is bringing you down. Oh, and your costume is ripped.

Just another day in Halcyon City.

Masks: A New Generation is an ENnie-award winning superhero roleplaying game in which a team of young heroes fights villains, saves lives, and tries to figure out who they are—noble paragons? Dark avengers? Or regular kids? All against the backdrop of Halcyon City, the greatest city in the world.

Teenage superheroes is a pretty easy genre to pick up, what with all of the references in current media, from Spiderman, to Teen Titans, to the Young Justice League. The core themes are about adolescence and identity - wrestling with who you are, what responsibilities come with your powers, and what that means for your future. In MASKS, everyone is looking to you to see who you will become, and that can put a lot of presure on a young superhero. Thankfully, you don’t have to go it alone - you have other teenage supers fighting by your side. Will you bolster each-other? Or will you judge too harshly?

Comrades, by W.M. Akers.

Comrades is a tabletop RPG about life in the revolutionary underground. Based on the Apocalypse World engine, it pits players against a corrupt government, forcing them to fight from the shadows to free the people from their chains. 

Playing as characters like the Soldier, the Student, the Propagandist, and the Worker, your comrades will mount rallies, stage coups, evade the secret police, and fight fascist goons. A campaign of Comrades can take place in any setting the players dream up—modern or historical, real or imagined—giving them a chance to create a revolution all their own. 

Comrades is setting-agnostic, meaning that you can play this game in a revolution of the past, a revolution in another world or a revolution in a speculative future. As you play, your revolution slowly grows stronger, which is one of the reasons why I think XP is used to help your character grow. What I think is unique about Comrades is the Pathways to Revolution, which spell out an endgame for the group: you don’t need to push all of the pathways to their conclusion, you only really need to fulfill one. But which path will your group take? Will the revolution come abut by force? Will your organization keep you effective? Or will your Fellowship bring you all the way to the bitter end?

Thirsty Sword Lesbians, by April Kit Walsh.

Love, swords, and adventure.

Thirsty Sword Lesbians battle the Lady of Chains when her enforcers march down from the frosty north. They rocket through the stars to safeguard diplomats ending a generations-old conflict. Even when swords are crossed, they seek peace with their opponent—and sometimes connect more deeply than anyone expects.

A sword duel can end in kissing, a witch can gain her power by helping others find love, and an entire campaign can be built around wandering  matchmakers flying from system to system.

Thirsty Sword Lesbians is a roleplaying game for telling queer stories with friends. If you love angsty disaster lesbians with swords, you have come to the right place.

Thirsty Sword Lesbians embraces drama, queerness, and romance in a fun romp through community and teamwork. Each playbook revolves around various themes that can inform and expand the queer experience, with space for trans narratives, neurodivergent experiences, and stories from colonized peoples and racial minorities. The game is also setting-agnostic so you can play as cyberpunk motorcycle lesbians, werewolf paladins on the run, or even gay nuns in space!

Chronicles of Darkness, by Onyx Path.

Keep walking.

Eyes straight ahead.

Don’t look back.

In the shadows and between the cracks of our everyday lives hide the Chronicles of Darkness. Here lurk creatures of ancient myth and urban legend. Here lie the graves of angels and the bunkers of secret government programs. Here every malformed horror you’ve ever seen out of the corner of your eye has a home. And they’ve seen you.

Chronicles of Darkness has uses a d10 dice pool resolution system: you add your pips from a relevant attribute to your pips in a relevant skill, and roll that many d10. To succeed, you’ll need to roll an 8 or higher, and sometimes you might need to generate more than one success to get what you want. No 8, 9 or 10? Well, that’s a failure. However, it’s not as bad as rolling a critical failure, which is what happens if you roll no success and you roll a 1. To soften the blow however, CofD awards characters with a point of XP - and to make things even more juicy, the player can choose to turn a regular failure into a critical failure, for some of that tasty tasty XP.

Nibiru, by Araukana Media.

Nibiru is a Science Fiction Roleplaying Game of Lost Memories. Players take on the role of Vagabonds: amnesiacs lost in a massive space station, home to millions, where stories of drama and struggle are written on a daily basis.

Nibiru is a special beast of a book in that the primary way to advance as a character is to write memories. Your memories are gathered as you play, providing reasons as to why you are good at certain things and bad at others. To write down a positive memory, you need to spend memory points, but they can be difficult to come by - only coming around at the end of a session and through following your character's motivation.

However, there's third, interesting option that generates Memory Points - negative memories. If you choose to recount a bad memory and assign a negative modifier to a skill of some kind, you generate Memory Points, which you can use to write better skills for yourself down the road. In a way, I think Nibiru encourages players to create weaknesses for themselves that promise failure down the road, in order to also give them things that they are good at.

The Cypher System, by Monte Cook Games.

The Cypher System is the critically acclaimed game engine that powers any campaign in any genre. You may have heard of it as the system that drives the award-winning Numenera roleplaying game. Lauded for its elegance, ease of use, flexibility, and narrative focus, the Cypher System unleashes the creativity of GMs and players with intuitive character creation, fast-paced gameplay, and a uniquely GM-friendly design.

The Cypher System is easy for beginners to learn, but offers all the depth, nuance, and complexity you want. Some people call it a “rules-light” system, but it has the power and sophistication of games that are much more mechanically heavy—and yet it is substantially more flexible. GMs find the game easy to prep for and easy to run—it frees up the GM’s attention, in prep and at the game table, to focus on cool, creative ideas rather than numbers, mechanics, and “crunch.”

The Cypher System doesn’t exactly reward failure per se, but it follows the same ethos. The game uses something called a GM Intrusion, which involves the GM offering a point of XP to a player in return for allowing them to cause something terrible or inconvenient to happen to the player’s character. The player can choose to accept it, or turn it away, if they don’t like the suggested turn of events.

The player doesn’t necessarily outright fail either - the GM might be introducing a new obstacle that the character will now have to face, but I like this mechanic because it softens any blows the GM might want to introduce to the fiction - rocks fall and you can’t get out of the cave this way, but at least you have some XP to munch on!

Blades in the Dark, by John Harper.

Blades in the Dark is a tabletop role-playing game about a crew of daring scoundrels seeking their fortunes on the haunted streets of an industrial-fantasy city. There are heists, chases, occult mysteries, dangerous bargains, bloody skirmishes, and, above all, riches to be had — if you’re bold enough to seize them.

You and your fledgling crew must thrive amidst the threats of rival gangs, powerful noble families, vengeful ghosts, the Bluecoats of the city watch, and the siren song of your scoundrel’s own vices. Will you rise to power in the criminal underworld? What are you willing to do to get to the top?

Blades in the Dark (and many of its children) doesn’t necessarily reward you with XP for failing, but it does reward you for embracing the possibility of failure. If you want to make your (potential) success all the more jazzy, you can do something called Trade Position For Effect. This means that you make your Position (and therefore your potential failure) much much worse, in return for making your Effect (your potential success) much much better. Go big or go home!

Ttrpgs that reward failure with a form of experience points MY BELOVED

[lokiprompts]

Clean Freak (GN Reader)

Summary: You have this bad habit of stress cleaning and taking it out on others. Loki tries to help! Fluff

Words: 4k

Warnings: None really, just you being a bit of a brat.

You wouldn’t necessarily call yourself a neat freak, but there was something therapeutic about throwing your whole being into cleansing the space you were in. Frankly, it was your stress reliever, and you would, albeit reluctantly, admit that sometimes it can be a bit toxic. It had started when you were younger, living at home with your family. After a particularly stressful day, you would go to down on your bedroom; quite literally chucking everything you deemed ‘unnecessary’ in a giant garbage bag. It was chaotic and frantic, but it was the blazing sprig of sage your space and your soul needed. Once everything was cleared out, the claustrophobic walls your anxiety and stress created finally receded and you could take a breath. Or you would throw your whole weight into ferociously cleaning a pan or chucking a heavy vacuum across the floor leaving you a panting mess by the time you were done. You figured it was better than some other toxic behaviors, or letting your fists fly against a punching bag until your knuckles bled. At least, you would have the satisfaction of a clean space by the end of it. As the stress and anxiety of your life waxed and waned, so did your cleaning habits.

Then, you accepted a job at Stark Industries. You were hired as an administrative assistant under Pepper Potts and while she was a gracious and understanding boss, the job left no room for nonsense or mistakes. And due to Pepper’s relationship with the one and only Iron Man, Tony Stark, you were often commandeered for Avenger tasks as well. The nature of the job and where you worked was incredibly stressful, but one of the perks was working closely with the Avengers. Most of your daily tasks involved handling files for Stark Industries, but also making sure the Avenger’s had what they needed to make their lives more comfortable while in the tower. Your work was invaluable, but you were definitely underappreciated.

And that was how you met Loki, the God of Mischief himself.

You were friendly with all the Avengers; you were the one ensuring their every comfort after all, but you wouldn’t consider any of them your ‘bff’. It seemed that Loki immediately appreciated all your efforts to make him comfortable at the Tower; a vast difference from the cold shoulders the rest of the team gave him. The trickster was given another chance to redeem himself, by way of public service with the Avengers, but it didn’t mean they had to welcome him with open arms. And it was that cold, bitterness from the others that festered the resentment and loneliness inside of him. So, your friendly, over enthusiastic demeanor was a very welcoming balm to him.

The very first day at the Tower, you had shown him his room and even prepared a well thought out welcome basket. It included information about Earth culture, with some lists and references to films and books you thought he would appreciate with the information given from Thor. The attention to personal detail warmed his heart and when you thrusted a plate of homemade cookies in his hands, he thought his heart might burst. You see, it was the little things that mattered, and you were always the person to make those special little things happen for the people in your life. And now, Loki felt blessed to be one of them and despite his emotional walls that rivaled the Great Wall of China, he found himself crushing on you. Hard.

But he could see that not everyone had the same appreciation for your special attention to detail that he had. You would always make sure everyone’s favorite foods were stocked in the community kitchen, including Thor’s favorite pop tarts. You knew everyone’s coffee and beverage order by heart, and they were always ready and waiting for the Avengers at every morning meeting.

“One Java Chip Frappuccino for the God of Mischief,” you said, handing Loki his coffee order.

“I won’t tell anyone about your crazy sweet tooth, my Prince.” You whispered in his ear, with a wink. Immediately his face flushed at your possessive pet name for him, but he still managed to stutter out a quiet ‘thank you’. Yet, he noticed how the others barely muffled out a hum of a response when you handed out the rest of their orders. It infuriated him to no end. How could they not see and appreciate all that you do? Especially on days that were particularly stressful and some of the Avengers took out their anger on you. Although it was unintentional, with each snarky remark or demand, the bright light in your eyes that Loki loved so much would die away just a little bit more. Yet, your kindness and sweet gestures always persisted despite the lack of gratitude. Every selfless action made Loki fall for you even more.

Even with their lack of appreciation and consideration of your feelings, all the Avengers knew to scatter once the vacuum in the common area flipped on. Once your cleaning frenzy began, it seemed you became a completely different person. All the muscles in your arms flexed and burned as you practically threw the heavy vacuum across the carpet; your hands red and raw as you furiously scrubbed pans in the sink under boiling hot water. It was sick, and borderline painful, but it was the stress relief you needed after a long day.

But, with Loki being a relatively new recruit, he had yet to see this side of you. He had seen your sweet gestures, the kindness that flowed effortlessly from you, and he craved the undivided attention you gave him whenever he spoke. So, when he saw you walk into the community living room where he sat, reading a book, he only quirked a brow with a small smile as you flipped on the vacuum. There were a few other people lingering in the community space, but he hardly noticed them scatter like insects as his gaze returned to his book.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched you curiously. He saw the force at which you cleaned and the huffs that escaped your lips with each jerked movement. For a moment, he thought it was bizarre as he was sure Stark had people to clean for him, but he just thought it was another stupid, menial task they pawned on his sweet, dear Y/N. Returning to his book, he let the sound of the vacuum turn into white background noise.

Until he felt a sharp jab against his foot.

“Ow!” He yelled, lifting his foot, and wincing in pain. You had hit his foot with the vacuum, and he looked at you with wide eyes, filled with shock. This definitely was not something he expected from you.

“What was that for?!” He yelled, not out of anger, but to overcome the loud sound of the vacuum that still raged in front of you. You didn’t answer, but simply glared before thrusting the vacuum again unceremoniously back in his direction. Thankfully, his God-like reflexes saved him and his shins as he quickly jumped to his feet and out of the way. Then, as if nothing happened, you carried on with vacuuming the area where he sat and then the rest of the room.

Deciding it was best to give you your space, Loki left, but still lingered in the shadows with a confused look plastered on his face. It was so out of character for you; he had to figure out what was going on. So, with the help of his seidr, he followed you around the Tower as you carried out your frenzied coping mechanism undetected. He watched as your skin turned red under the hot, boiling water as you scrubbed a lone pan in the sink. Groans and frustrated mutterings escaped your lips as you scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed. The look of confusion on Loki’s face was replaced with a frown as he saw you torture your body. You must really hate messes, he concluded. He knew he had to help you; anything to ease your pain when you do so much for others.

The next few days were uneventful. There was no apology for slamming the vacuum into Loki’s feet and he decided to let it go as well. It seemed his sweet, Y/N was back as you showered him with your attention during lunch breaks; discussing anything and everything that was of interest of him. His hands would fly with unbridled enthusiasm and while he got his fix of your smiles and giggles that he found himself craving every day.

But then, after another particularly stressful day, he heard the vacuum turn on again in the common area and you were at its helm. It was his moment to shine, to express his appreciation and thankfulness for your relentless kindness that only he seemed to notice. When you approached him, vacuum leading the way, he stood carefully from his place on the couch as if he was cautious to scare off a frightened animal. For a moment, you both stared at each other. The same scowl from before was stuck on your face. Even with your angry look, Loki still thought you were adorable. Then, a grin slowly creeped on his face. He raised his hand and with a flourish of green, his seidr cleaned up the whole room. Everything was put away, the floor was clean, and all lingering dishes in the sink vanished back into their assigned spots in the cupboard.

There, the young prince stood, proud as a peacock with his chest puffed out and a Cheshire grin. You would be so thankful and appreciative of his efforts! But his confidence started to wane as your silence became palpable.

“Loki!” you groaned, “How could you!” Then, you let go of the vacuum and it fell on the floor with a loud thud. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you stared at the shocked God before you. With a choked sob, you turned around on your heel and left the room, leaving a very confused Loki in your wake. This definitely did not go as he had planned, and he wracked his brain about what could have gone wrong. He wanted to help you, but instead he hurt you and it shattered his already fragile heart. Maybe his understanding of his cleaning habits was completely wrong.

He made it his mission to find you the next day to apologize, but you waved off his apology insisting it wasn’t necessary. Shifting on his feet nervously, he wrung his hands as the feelings of guilt still consumed him. He wanted to make it right and he wanted to ask you directly what he did wrong, but you interrupted his thoughts with an invitation to join you for lunch. You offered him half of a cookie from your lunch with the bright smile he loved so much. It was the same homemade cookie you had given him the day you met, and he could not resist the sweet gesture. The temptation to bathe in your attention won over his curiosity as he joined you at the table and discussed a recent book you both were reading.

But, his curiosity was peaked again when the familiar vroom of the vacuum filled the room. The feeling of déjà vu overtook him as he stood from his seat in the common area, and you both found yourself in the same staring contest from before. He was determined to make this right, to get rid of that scowl from your face that didn’t deserve to be there and make amends for the pain he caused you. So, just like before, he raised his hands and with another green flourish of his seidr, the room transformed into a disaster area. It looked like a bomb went off. There was trash everywhere, dust covered all the furniture, and dishes overflowed in the sink. If a clean room wasn’t what you wanted, maybe you wanted a mess? And boy, did Loki deliver a mess.

Again, the silence from you was palpable as he waited for your reaction. You looked around the room with wide eyes, taking it all in. The silence was unbearable to the young prince, so he decided to finally speak up.

“I…Y/n…I just – I was just thinking…” He stammered, not knowing what to say. While every friendly conversation flowed easily between you both, this was a completely different story. He felt like a fool, unable to help the one person he wanted to shower with love and affection, and he can’t seem to get it right.

“Am I a joke to you, Loki?” Again, tears made your eyes glassy, and he hung his head. It seemed he understood the situation wrong again. You just wanted to clean the room in peace, exert your frustrations and purge the room of mess and he just made the task a thousand times worse. Deep down, you knew he meant well, but after a stressful day your judgement was clouded. The tightness in your chest constricted further and your breathing was ragged.

Without another word, you fled the room with tears streaming down your face. Again, Loki was left alone with his thoughts and the pain of the situation. He sank back down on the couch, paying no mind to the trash he sat on. Holding his head in his hands, he held back his own tears. He was at a loss of what to do. Everything he tried seemed to make it worse. The fear of losing you threatened to overtake him as events that just transpired swirled around in his head. He couldn’t let that happen. What was he doing wrong? Maybe, he was approaching the situation the wrong way. He thought about your cleaning habits, the days you had and then….

He shot up from the couch, a proverbial lightbulb shinning above his head. Finally, he understood! Leaving the destroyed room behind him, he ran off to his room to make preparations.

After your last encounter with Loki, you avoided him like the plague. You weren’t ready to explain the reasons behind your actions and frankly, you were beyond embarrassed. You cherished your time with Loki and you were acting like a child. Why couldn’t you break this toxic cycle, and just do something healthy instead of torturing yourself and the people around you? This god, the most handsome person you have ever encountered, has been nothing but nice to you and you hit him with a vacuum! You couldn’t look him in the eye; the shame was too much.

But toxic habits were hard to break. After another rough day and some snarky remarks from Stark, you wanted to get your fix. You crept into the common area and prayed to the gods above that Loki wasn’t there. But there he sat in his usual spot on the couch. Unlike every other time you came into the room, he didn’t look up with a bright smile that he only reserved for you. He kept his eyes trained on the book in his lap. Your heart cracked; another relationship ruined.

For a moment, you debated even continuing into the room. But the itch and the tightness in your chest was too great. You had to get rid of that feeling somehow and the vacuum screamed out to you from beyond the closet door. It drew you in like a drug you couldn’t resist and before you knew it, you had plugged the vacuum in and flipped the switch. But, before your first push of the machine, the vacuums whirring suddenly stopped. You looked over your shoulder and saw Loki, holding the now unplugged cord. And you just glared at him. What was wrong with you?!

“Darling, this has to stop.” This simple comment stopped you in your tracks and your eyes fell to the ground in shame. You wanted to hide, you wanted to run, anything to avoid discussing your dirty toxic habit. Then, you felt his cold and gentle fingers grip your chin, making you look into his crystal blue eyes.

“You are stressed, and this is no way to treat yourself. Will you let me take care of you?” Again, his words were so simple, but they hit you like a ton of bricks. You found yourself lost in his eyes that were filled with an emotion that you couldn’t quite place. But even though you couldn’t see or understand the adoration that filled him as he stared down at you, you couldn’t resist him.

“Yes.” Is all that you said in reply, and Loki let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. Finally! His own eyes turned glassy as emotions consumed him. He finally got it right.

Without another word, he offered you his hand and after a brief moment of contemplation, you took it. The smile that took over Loki’s face shone so bright, it could rival the sun and you knew in that moment, you would follow him anywhere. He led you silently down the hall to his bedroom and after closing the door behind you both, he revealed his grand plan of pampering.

“I know things have been hard for you,” He said, taking both of your hands in his, “I see how hard you work and how much you care, but no one appreciates it. Yet, you still care, and you still give and that is something I…” He paused, wanting to choose his next words carefully.

“It is something I cherish about you.” You didn’t know what to say, shocked by his confession. Did he care for you more than a friend? He didn’t let you stew in your thoughts too long before he carried on with his plan, squeezing your hands gently.

“I will run a bath for you. I have herbs from Asgard that will help you relax, and I will give you privacy, so don’t worry…” He said with a wink and your cheeks started to heat up.

“I will have comfy clothes waiting for you along with your favorite dinner…and if you would like, we can watch those films you like. Disney – is that right?” Stunned by the amount of care and attention he was giving you, you just nodded. You always cared for others, but when was the last time someone cared for you? You couldn’t remember and that realization made you that much more appreciative.

With a quick peck to the top of your head, he vanished into the bathroom of his suite and ran the bath as promised. Not too long after, he reemerged and led you into the bathroom. The room smelled heavenly. You took a long whiff and let out a contented sigh and again, Loki beamed with pride.

“So, um, here you go!” He mumbled, gesturing to the tub filled with herbs and dried flowers.

“Take your time. I will have dinner ready for you once you are done.” You whispered a quiet thank you to him and he left you, closing the door behind him. Your hand ghosted over the clothes that he left for you on the edge of the sink. The corner of your lips turned up in a small smile after you realized they were his clothes. You disrobed and sank into the steaming tub, letting out a contented groan as you did.

Meanwhile, busying himself in his small kitchen, Loki started to prepare a meal he recalled you loved. His Godly hearing picked up on the groan that had escaped your lips, and a flush crept up his face as he tried not to think of your naked body just on the other side of the door. With a quick shake of his head, he refocused and started to pull out the necessary ingredients and pots and pans.

Time slowed down as you soaked in the tub, inhaling the sweet scents with long deep breaths. Your muscles started to relax and the lingering tightness in your chest started to dissipate. But, not before a few lone tears traveled down your cheeks. The love and the care were overwhelming; maybe there was more to your relationship with the God of Mischief after all. You lingered in the tub for what felt like an eternity of relaxed bliss before your stomach reminded you of the promise of food. You stood up from the tub, dried yourself off with a fluffy towel, and donned the clothes he left for you, soft black sweatpants and a large, cozy, green sweater. Of course, they would be in his colors. You lifted the collar of the shirt to your nose and sniffed. It smelled like him, and your heart fluttered.

You stepped out of the bathroom, your hair still dripping a bit from the bath, and you saw him. Loki was pulling out one of your favorite dishes from the oven and your heart swelled at the fact that he remembered this random comment you made about it ages ago. Then, you let out a small giggle as you took in your Godly chef for the night. He wore an apron and had floral oven mitts covering his hands. It was odd to see him so domestic, but it was a welcome sight that you could certainly get used to.

Your giggle must have caught his attention because he turned to you and you could have sworn you heard his breath hitch at the sight of you, almost dropping the hot meal that was in his hands. Quickly, he put it on top of the stove and practically ran over to you. He stopped just in front of you, taking in your body that was covered in his scent and in his clothes. You couldn’t help but blush as his gaze lingered on you unabashedly. Realizing that he was staring, he cleared his throat and invited you to sit down at his small kitchen table.

“Right… I hope your bath was sufficient?” He pulled out a chair for you and you sat down. He brought the dish over to the table and sat across from you, serving you a plate of the meal that looked and smelled absolutely amazing. Your mouth watered at the sight, but you also didn’t miss how his hands shook slightly as he served you. Was he nervous?

“It was more than sufficient. It was incredible – very relaxing and just what I needed.” You beamed at him, and his face reflected your happiness back at you. You both settled into easy conversation as you enjoyed your meal. You found yourself giggling and laughing wildly as he cracked joke after joke. The sound of your laughter was music to his ears, and he couldn’t help but keep his silly antics up just to hear it more. Your body felt so relaxed and floaty as your last giggle fit died down and for a moment, you both just stared at each other. His icy blue eyes held nothing, but adoration for you and yours shone with unapparelled appreciation and affection. In that moment, words weren’t necessary.

But he broke the silence when he invited you to his couch. He patted the seat next to him as he pulled up your favorite Disney film. You surprised him by not only sitting right next to him, but also by curling your body right into his side with a contented hum. His body stiffened at the contact and for a moment, you worried that you pushed things too far. As you began to pull away, he wrapped a strong arm around your waist and pulled you back close to him.

Loki greedily relished in the feeling of your body against his. After these past few weeks, he never thought he would be in such an intimate position with you. The once dark prince, now only wanted to pour all his love and affection on the little mortal that graced him with their presence. Feeling braver, his hand snuck up your side and landed at the side of your scalp – pampering you with little scratches. A contented hum graced your lips and Loki smiled to himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw your own eyes slip close. He rested his head onto of yours as his fingers continued their ministrations in your hair.

Eventually your breathing evened out as you fell in a deep sleep. Again, Loki stared down at you with greedy abandon, taking in all of your features. Your long eyelashes, the curve of your cheeks, the cupid’s bow of your lips. His heart swelled as he knew he completed his mission to help you relax and finally receive just a fraction of the love you dished out on the daily basis.

He knew that he wanted to be that person for you from now until forever. This was just the start.

[ginazmemeoir]

Since it's Krishna's birthday I couldn't help but write his birth story. So here y'all go, you're welcome. Oh also fun fact about Janmashtami : it always rains tonight. It might be just a drizzle, but it always rains tonight.

Devaki’s screams rent the air as she pushed and kept pushing. This was the eighth time she was giving birth to someone. The prison guards could hardly be bothered, and instead laughed at her like hyenas, their mere gazes leaving marks on her skin. Vasudev covered the prison bars with a flimsy cloth, and went back to assist his wife.

She was crying when Vasudev returned back. He bent down by her side, supporting her, and was about to go in front to assist with the delivery when Devaki squeezed his hand and stopped him. Panting, she said, “I don’t know if I want this child Vasudev.” Vasudev was stunned upon Devaki’s proclamation. She had given birth seven times, all sons, and six times had watched them being murdered by her own brother, the brother who had loved her more than any brother could love a sister. The seventh time, Vasudev had quietly given the baby to his first wife Rohini and instructed her to head to Gokul, where his friend Nanda lived. They had simply lied to Kansa and cited that Devaki had miscarried.

How cruel fate was. The couple had watched six of their children murdered in front of them in cold blood, not even a day old. The seventh, they did not know of his fate. Of his first words or his favourite food or the way he laughed. And yet, this eighth child carried hope. This child would be their salvation. Devaki continued “I cannot bear to watch another child snatched away like that Vasudev. Please I’d rather this child die on my womb, or I die while giving birth so at least I don’t have to watch him die. Please Vasudev, I cannot do this anymore” cried Devaki, tears raining down her once lustrous bronze skin, her once luxurious locks lying limp and lifeless by her side like her soul. “No Devaki. I cannot imagine the pain you endure, each time you push another life from inside you, but know this – this child is our salvation. This child is the reason six of our children were murdered. This child is the reason we sent our seventh son into hiding. This child is the reason we have wasted away in this prison for years. Devaki this child must live. Our child must live to avenge the deaths of our children. To avenge us. This child must live if the universe carries even a shred of mercy for us. For Devaki I would sooner kill both of us than watch another child tortured by your brother.” Vasudev’s eyes burned with an intensity Devaki hadn’t seen in a long time. Most of the time they were sad or scared, reminiscing their past. Their married bliss had ended the day it began, with her brother imprisoning them over a prophecy. Vasudev’s words breathed new life into Devaki. She would not let this child die. She would live. She would make sure the child lived. And she would make sure she heard her brother whimpering in agony as her child crushed his skull open.

The gods had given a prophecy. Devaki and Vasudev’s eighth child would be the death of Kansa. And Devaki did not want to prove the gods as petty liars.

With a final push and a scream, that was thankfully masked by a loud thunderclap, Devaki expelled her child out. Vasudev cut the umbilical cord with a flint stone he had dipped in cheap somaras which he had stolen from the guards yesterday, and cradled the child in his arms, lying beside Devaki, giving this child his parents’ touch one final time, the shared breath and heat warming him. He was dark, dark as the rainclouds that had gathered over the entirety of Brijbhumi that day, as the moonlit night that held secrets and wonder. A small glow emanated from his body, barely lighting his immediate surroundings. The couple kept looking at their son, prerplexed, and the baby looked back at them. He had big soft eyes, and instead of crying, he just looked up at them and gave a small laugh, reaching to grab his mother’s hair. Devaki’s tears fell on his face, as she kissed his forehead and hugged him tight. She then looked at Vasudev, and they understood what had to be done. Vasudev took the baby, and opened his prison door. Turns out if you get drunk with the guards ever so often, they don’t notice things like missing keys.

Vasudev stepped out, and half thought that he and his son were going to be hacked into pieces, but the entire cellar was quiet. The whole world seemed to hold its breath, time itself felt suspended. Only minutes ago the guards were cackling, and yet they now slept a deep slumber. Vasudev quickly stole a dagger, and placed the baby in the laundromat’s basket, covering him with a heavy warm cloth. He exited the prison quarters and entered into Indra’s wrath. The clouds overhead boomed with thunder, and rain covered everything as far as the eye could see. Unperturbed, Vasudev kept walking eastwards, until he reached the Yamuna. He looked for a boat, searching the banks of the usually idyllic river, which now coursed with the strength and vigour of the mighty Saraswati, and yet found no boat to carry him and his son. Time was running out, and his son’s life outweighed a safe passage for him, he could already imagine Kansa’s men running towards him. Vasudev then did the only thing he could – let the river decide his life. He walked into the river, determined to reach the other side. The yojana wide river divided Mathura and its outskirts from the countryside – where his son was to find sanctuary. Vasudev kept walking, and the Yamuna’s waters kept rising and rising. The heavy rain pelted Vasudev, and he kept his swaddled baby on his head in his basket. The spaces between the bamboo basket refused water from filling in. Somehow, he reached the middle, when he felt the water threatening to reach his chin, the river hell bent on drowning him and his son. No mere river was going to stop the descendant of the mighty Shuri, the prince of the Vrishnis today though. Vasudev held his breath and kept swimming forward, the basket safely above the surface of water. Surprisingly, there were no crocodiles in the river. Vasudev had only swam a bit further when the river level started lowering and lowering, until it reached his waist. Vasudev was perplexed, the river was usually the deepest at this point, then why did it suddenly lower down to below his waist? Lost in his thoughts, Vasudev almost missed the giant creature slithering towards him, and that is when he realized he and his infant son were about to be devoured by a sea monster that liked toying with its prey. The creature reached Vasudev, its smooth obsidian scales emitting a green glow, extending to its full length, spreading out its thousand hoods and shielding Vasudev and his son from the merciless rain. Had he not known better, Vasudev would’ve thought it was Adi Shesha, the thousand hooded snake, upon whose infinite coils Narayana rested. Time was running out, and Vasudev picked up speed, the serpentine creature slithering along. Climbing out of the river, he kept picking through the wilderness and hamlets, the creature’s presence scaring off any hungry predators.

At last, Vasudev glimpsed the village of Gokul. Overjoyed, Vasudev rushed down the hillock, which was dotted here and there by the occasional cow. He entered the safety of the village, his frayed nerves calming down, and started searching for Nanda’s home. Even though he was the village chief, his house was tough to spot, the only thing differentiating it from others was a larger gateway and a bigger courtyard. Surprisingly, Nanda was already standing at the gates, waiting for him. Vasudev rushed up to him, and began to speak when Nanda asked, “Vasudev, how did you come here? How are you barely wet?” Vasudev looked behind him, and found the creature had returned. Maybe it was scared of society? “There’s no time for that Nanda. I have come to entrust my last son to you,” said Vasudev, as he hastened to enter Nanda’s home. There was a lantern in front of each room, and the large house was empty except for the cows in the outside stables. Vasudev kept searching along the corridor, until he found Nanda’s wife’s room. He expected to see his elder son sleeping with her, but instead found her snoring loudly, with a baby lying beside her. Vasudev quietly placed his son beside her. The baby started crying, clutching onto his father even as he laid him on the bed. Vasudev quietly removed his hand from his grip, and sang him a lullaby. It was about a bee returning to its hive after a busy day in the meadow. He had never got a chance to sing this lullaby before. Devaki and he and spent each day perfecting it in prison. The baby quietened and went to sleep, and Vasudev left, his vision blurry, when he was stopped by Nanda. “Wait here.” he said. Nanda then returned from his wife’s room, his baby with him, and handed it over to Vasudev. “Here you go Vasudev. You may take my daughter home with you.” Vasudev looked at Nanda with disgust. Was his friend so lowly that in favour of a son he would condemn his daughter to the confines of a prison, frequented by a monster that would kill her the moment he got to know? “I know what you were thinking, and I would never do that Vasu” said Nanda, sensing his friend’s thoughts. “Yashoda gave birth to her yesterday, and hasn’t seen her since. I took her to Goddess Gauri’s temple the same day, to seek her blessings. I can’t explain what happened Vasu, but I heard Gauri. She spoke to me and she instructed me to give her to you when you came. Why do you think I was waiting for you outside?” “Oh come on Nanda, you’re just making up stories now.” said Vasudev, even more repulsed now. “Why would I lie Vasu? Is this what you think of me, a murderer? Trust me Vasu, Gauri Devi spoke to me, she told me to give my daughter to you! Who are we to defy the will of the gods?” Nanda reassured him.

“The gods don’t care about us Nanda. They stopped existing for me when they made me watch my sons’ heads being bashed against walls or crushed by hammers. But even so I will take your daughter. Maybe Kansa might spare a girl?”

Saying so, Vasudev took Nanda’s daughter and vanished into the night, heading back to his prison. Even though the babe wasn’t his, he had already named her – Maya – after this night, an illusion, a reality that felt like a dream. He did not know what fate awaited this girl, but at least his boy was safe for now.

Maybe the gods did have a plan. A plan that was tucked away under Yashoda’s arms in the tiny hamlet of Gokul, snuggling against the only mother he would ever know.

[nebulablakemurphy]

Miss American Pie

Chapter Five: This Will Be The Day (Finale)

Warning: this series features a romantic Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader pairing.

Summary: Everyone has returned but the battle for humanity against Thanos wages on.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

You wake in a coughing fit, the rubble surrounding you sears your lungs. “Natasha.” You call into the rocks and flickering lights. Clearing your throat, you try again. “Natasha!”

“Here, I’m here.” Her voice is rough, pained.

You push yourself toward the sound, through the dust you can make out her hair. “You ok?”

“Mostly.” She’s laying face up, a few scratches visible.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I can’t move.” She nods at the piece of collapsed cement. “My leg is broken, you should go.” Nat says, staring up at the sky.

“I should’ve never let you go to Vormir. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.” You try uselessly to budge the blockage over her leg.

“What is Vormir?” She asks.

“Doesn’t matter.” You swallow the lump in your throat. “How much do you remember?”

“The red room.”

“Do you remember getting out?”

“No one gets out.” She shakes her head.

“We did.” You inform her. “Yelena did.”

“Yelena?” Her gaze finds yours. “You know Yelena? Is she here?”

“Yes, I know her.” You press your lips together. “She’s not here though.”

“The rest of this building is coming down. If you were really trained in the red room you have to know that.” Natasha frowns. “You need to leave.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Don’t be a hero.” She whispers. “Let me go, it’s ok.”

“No, it’s not.” You argue. “I won’t do it again.”

“What about Yelena?” Natasha gives you a pointed look.

“She’ll understand.” This is what she would do.

“Hey,” Natasha pushes herself up on her elbows. “Would it be a good thing or a bad thing if a giant man in a metal suit carrying a smaller man and a raccoon appeared behind your head?”

You turn toward the man in question. Scott Lang. “It would be a good thing.”

———————————————————————

Natasha is taken somewhere safe. She can’t fight.

As the strange doctor and his disciples start opening portals you see that you’re not alone. Through one comes Alexei, Melina and Yelena.

Her white suit is pristine, dirty blonde hair held away from her face in ponytails.

On shaky legs you move toward her, taking your rightful place at her side. Facing what lies ahead together.

Yelena catches your hand, “this isn’t much of a welcome home.”

You can’t help but laugh, “pretty cool way to die though.”

“Very,” she agrees. “Natasha?”

“She is a little worse for wear.” You warn her, “but alive…and safe.”

Yelena gives you a watery smile, squeezing your fingers. “And you?”

“A tower fell on me.”

“Of course it did.”

Thanos’ army is nothing to scoff at. Giant airborne creatures hover over his troops. Larger monsters stand in their ranks, space ship overhead ready to destroy.

Steve is almost unrecognizable, covered in dirt, his shield battered and broken. But you know it is time when he gives the order. “Avengers, assemble.”

Fighting is easy, it’s what you know. What you were trained to do. Fight to stay alive, fight for what you believe in, fight with Yelena; for Yelena.

The two of you move together like a well oiled machine. Like riding a bike, even after all this time you could never forget.

“We’ve got company to the left.” Yelena says through gritted teeth, kicking at the alien creature beside her. Dropping an empty cartridge to the ground and reloading her gun seamlessly, firing several shots.

Despite everyone’s best efforts they just keep coming. “Do we have a plan here?”

“Getting there,” Steve replies. “Anybody have eyes on the gauntlet?”

“Yeah!” Clint rushes past you with the glove in hand. “What am I supposed to do with it?”

“Get it out of here!” Tony insists.

“What’s happening?” Alexei shouts over the chaos. “I still don’t have ear piece.”

“Just keep their army away from that guy in the tank top.” You grunt, falling backwards from the force of one of Thanos’ soldiers colliding with you.

“We have to get the stones back where they came from.” Rhodey reminds everyone.

“The time space tunnel is completely collapsed.” Tony points out.

“That isn’t our only time machine.” Lang cuts in.

“Does anyone see an ugly brown van out there?” Captain America’s voice hums through the ear bud.

“I do,” a female voice chimes in. “But you’re not going to like where it’s parked.”

After grappling for far too long, you manage to knock the creature from you. Using your knife to dismember it.

“Next time, we get the cool laser guns.” Yelena yells loud enough to be heard by everyone on the network, as she hauls you to your feet.

“Friday, please add laser guns for the ballerinas to my grocery list.” Stark gives his smart ass remark.

“What’s the word on the van?” Rhodey wonders.

“Working on it now.”

The ship at Thanos’ disposal begins raining fire, no regard for their own troops.

“We’ve got people going down!” Rocket hollers.

“Clint,” you call into the microphone. “How’s that gauntlet?”

“Moving down the field.” The archer replies, “I’m alright too, thanks for asking.”

“Good.” You bite back a smile.

Hell continues breaking loose around you. Glowing circular orbs unfold in the air above, providing coverage from the missiles. You’re not sure if this is winning or losing. It feels like a bit of both.

———————————————————————- Thanos and his army are dusted away. Leaving you surprised and still swinging as the shock wears off.

You won. You. Won.

And you lost.

You lost Tony Stark. The man you’d barely known, but offered you clarity that will stay with you forever.

You lost the Natasha you’d come to know over the five years that Yelena was gone. Some parts of the redhead stripped away for the price of the stone.

But she’s still here. Waiting in the wings to be greeted by Yelena and their little makeshift family. You share a look of understanding when your eyes meet over the blonde’s shoulder.

Others come, Banner refuses to leave her side. Despite the fact that Natasha doesn’t remember him.

Clint falls to the ground at her feet. Breaking down at the sight of his friend, his family alive and well. She doesn’t remember him either, but welcomes him into her arms somewhat awkwardly.

Her expressions flicker from happy to overwhelmed. Hesitant to open herself up to the possibility that she is wanted, needed and loved.

Too confusing for the girl who only remembers the red room. Adjusting to this life will take time.

Everyone begins clearing out, their jobs finished. Rushing home to reunite with their loved ones. Tomorrow will bring about new challenges. The world is in shambles, and so are you.

Steve decides that he should be the one to return the stones. His goodbye tells you that he has a bit more in mind. But this is his life. His choices, not yours.

“Well, I guess we should head out too.” You say after a while. Your car is gone, lost in the wreckage from the explosion.

The setting sun is eclipsed, causing all of you to turn your gaze upwards just in time to see the ship’s door open.

“Is that a raccoon?” Melina asks, pointing toward Rocket.

“Do you want a ride or not?” Rocket shoots back.

“Not the avenger’s super jet, but it will do huh?” Alexei smiles, this is his dream.

“This is better!” A man’s voice carries down from the interior.

“Well,” Yelena shrugs, “if you say so.” She leads the pack up the ramp and onto the ship.

“Fanny and the pigs will be expecting dinner soon.”

“How are they?” Melina asks, “have you been taking care of them.”

“That was me!” Alexei says proudly, bending at the waist to gather Natasha into his arms. “Aye honey,” he grunts, hoisting her up. “You are only little girl in my heart.”

Nat pushes against his chest in retaliation.

“Do you mind if I hitch a ride too?” Clint asks.

“The extra stop will cost you,” Nebula stares blankly at him from her seat.

“They always do.” He remarks, trotting up the ramp.

Bruce paces at the foot of the metal grate, watching the rest of you load up. “I gotta hang back, make sure Steve gets there in one piece.”

“After what happened with Scott the first time I’d say that’s probably the best bet.” You agree, standing near the entrance.

“Yeah,” he smiles, kindly. “Keep me posted on Nat, will ya?”

“I will,” you return the smile.

“I’ll see you around.”

You nod, “I’ll see you.”

The captain of the ship introduces himself as Star-lord, and after a moment without response, Quill.

“Any requests?” He asks, finger hovering over the control panel.

Alexei creeps over to the younger man, quietly relaying a message.

“Alright,” Quill nods. Stroking the keys until a familiar set of notes ring out.

“A long, long time ago-“ The singer croons.

You let out a chuckle.

“I can still remember how that music used to make me smile. And I knew if I had my chance, that I could make those people dance. And maybe they'd be happy for a while.”

“We’re really doing this?” Yelena puts a hand to her head, the corners of her mouth turning upward.

“But February made me shiver, with every paper I'd deliver. Bad news on the doorstep, I couldn't take one more step.” The melody carries on.

“It’s your song.” Natasha turns to her sister.

“I can't remember if I cried. When I read about his widowed bride.” Melina’s eyes are far away, carried back to their years in Ohio. Before the world had been so cruel.

“Something touched me deep inside, the day the music-“

“Died.” Yelena joins in, lulling her head to the side to gage your reaction.

You sigh, all of this beyond surreal. But you allow yourself to live in this moment, because you might not get another. “So bye, bye Miss American Pie…”

“Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry.” The roaring chorus of voices fills the silence you’ve grown used to. Fills the parts of you that were empty for so long. “And them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye. Singin', “this’ll be the day that I die.”

“This’ll be the day that I die.” Yelena sings, her face alight with a childlike glee.

——————————————————————-

Melina, Natasha and Alexei stay with you for a while. A few weeks as Natasha heals and becomes acclimated to her life.

She claims to hate the attention, but deep down you know she’s full of it.

The Ohio house is bursting at the seams with five adults, nine pigs and one dog.

That isn’t enough to keep visitors at bay. Namely Clint, his wife Laura and their three children.

Things feel a bit off when everyone begins moving out. Alexei, Melina, and their pigs return to the farm outside of Saint Petersburg.

Natasha finds herself drawn to New York, with Bruce and the makeshift building he’s using as a lab.

You adjust to the steady thrum that is daily life, with Fanny and Yelena.

After dinner you load the dishwasher, drying your hands on the nearby tea towel before selecting a cycle.

“So how does it feel?” Yelena asks, leaning against the doorframe.

“Hmm?” You turn to face her.

“Being a hero.” She clarifies, a smile playing at her lips.

“I’m not-“

“Oh cut the crap, Y/N. You saved the world.” Yelena narrows her eyes at you.

“I did it for you.” You say simply, because it’s true.

Yelena closes the space between you, “why?”

“You know why.” You whisper as she cups your face in her hands, gently stroking her thumb over your cheek. “It’s ok if you wouldn’t have done the same.”

“I’d do more for you, and worse.” She assures you. “But do you really want to spend the rest of your life fumbling around feelings in the dark when you could have someone who-“

“I want you. I only ever want you.” You beckon her closer. “Anyway I can have you, that will be enough for me.”

Sometimes wires get crossed and you want things you never have before. And she provides them before you have a chance to ask. You give back to her tenfold, so that neither glass is ever empty. That is love. True love, the only way you’ve ever known it.

“I am yours…in every way a person can belong to another.” Yelena breathes, “and then some.”

Series taglist: @jeyramarie @freeshavocadoooo @ilovewinter101 @3and30aresoultwins @yelenabelovv @miphas-trident @1800-fight-me

If you loved this series as much as I did, you can check out the prequel here!

[your-highnessmarvel]

From Bleak to Bright - Part Eight

All other parts on on my masterlist, link provided below.

AN: this chapter is long but the end is worth it puppies;)

Warnings: angst, language

Enjoyed this and want more? Send in your requests!

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MASTERLIST - SERIES MASTERLIST

PART EIGHT

Loki never came back home that night. Nor the next morning. It was odd without him in the loft. You ventured to other rooms, which as you’d guessed, were other rooms. You didn’t want to sleep in Loki’s gold bed with silk sheets. You didn’t want to give him the wrong idea if he came back home from some sort of battle or whatever he did when he was out. 

You didn’t want him finding his soulmate in his bed and think something was going to go down.

Not yet anyway. 

You cringed at that thought, sitting on the side of the bed you’d borrowed last night. Your feet hung from the edge; the bed was so gigantic you’d practically thrown yourself into it to be able to board the goddamn thing. 

You peaked from the open door, listening for any sound, but the loft was dark and quiet, just as you’d left it the night before. There were no windows in this place, so you went through the hallway and kitchen, flicking on lights in your cotton pajamas you’d taken from Loki’s wardrobe. 

He’d stocked the kitchen with all assortment of human candies. Twizzlers. Starbursts. Lucky Charms. 

Sour Puss? Why did Loki buy eighteen-year-old liquor? 

You made yourself a bowl of Lucky Charms, playing with your cereal, wondering what the hell you were supposed to do for the day. As far as you’d seen, there were no books. No internet. No computer to play games. What the hell did Loki even do in this loft anyway?

A fleeting thought answered you. All of this is temporary. This is not his home and it never will be.

The bare walls, the rooms full of nothingness, no paraphernalia of any kind anywhere. There weren’t any of his clothes in the wardrobe either. Loki just slept here. Barely. 

The bathroom was sparkling, as if no one had ever used it. The loft smelled like a new car, the leather couches gleaming and new.

You weren’t going to stay here long, either. 

Loki was on Earth temporarily, surviving on Lucky Charms and illusions. 

You didn’t know what to make of yourself, and you certainly weren’t about to lie on your bed staring at the ceiling, waiting for the God of Mischief to grace you with his presence. No. 

After breakfast, you dressed in black trousers and t-shirt, and a pair of boots that would sustain a lot of walking. You tied your hair in a low braid.

You took one large breath before grabbing the front door and yanking. If Loki had locked you in, you’d kill him.

But the door swung open, breaking open the cap on the noise. Chatter, clanking, beeping, smoke came crashing to your senses as you opened up the door to the lab sitting just on the other side. The unbearable heat washed over you as you stepped out, your eyes taking in the ragged, sprung up lab life vibrating before you. 

Curiously, you ventured deeper, keeping close to the wall, making sure no one really paid attention to you. Everyone there seemed really, really into their job, anyway. As if they were in a trance. 

Mind control, you thought shyly. Loki had used his staff, you were sure. Upon closer inspection, heart beating in your chest, inching closer to a woman overly invested in a piece of glass, you saw it. The blurred gaze. Irises as blue and nebulous as the tip of Loki’s staff. Broken, chapped lips. Skin ashy and sickened, as if she hadn’t eaten or drank anything in days. Or slept. The sunken, black skin beneath her eyes told you this lab worked 24/7. 

Gulping, you whirled, trying to find the exit. People milled by you, paying you no mind. As if you were just another one of them. 

This was making you sick, the moral of it all reaching a valuable place inside you. The fact that Loki has stuffed these peoples’ heads with - what? - and turned them into living, breathing robots made you want to yell. At him, mostly.

Just then you spotted a sign over a door. Exit. Well, at least Loki cared about fire safety. You walked to it, determined, and all but burst through the doors, the sound of them slamming shut behind you echoing into the hallway, which you walked through with the same harsh pace. 

It was only when you’d burst into the warehouse, the sound disrupting the small bubble of peace, did you finally take a deep, soothing breath. The outside world shimmered before you, just beyond the yawning mouth of the warehouse. You saw a shimmering horizon, hot, blazing cement.

This wasn’t a warehouse, you realized. It was a hangar. A huge, awning hangar with a stolen, SHIELD-issued jet in the far left corner. 

You remembered how you even got here - the tightening of your skin, the feeling of it ripping and rippling as time and space shivered around you. No wonder you didn’t remember the extent of the “warehouse” when you’d landed here, the state of your mind and stomach making you woozy.

“Hey!”

Someone came running to you. It was one of those tall, all-black clad figures. His reflective mask glimmered in the lights of the hangar as he jogged to you, left hand on his hip, where a baton dangled.

“You’re not supposed to leave,” he said, his voice monotone, emotionless. Robotic. Controlled.

Frowning, taking a careful step back, you said, “I’m not allowed to leave?”

“Correct.” Then, more harshly. “Loki’s demands.”

There was a brief, hot red moment where you wanted to batter your fists against this man’s entire being, but then you remembered he didn’t even know he was here. He was being mind controlled. He was just a body, just like the entirety of the lab buzzing behind you. 

“I want to leave,” you said, squaring your shoulders.

“Impossible.”

You set your jaw, looking at this guard from under your brows. “Loki,” you said, unsure if this would work. “Loki, tell this idiot to step out of my way or so help me God I will destroy your precious little lab behind me.” Just to emphasize your words, you put your hand back on the doorknob.

There was a second where you thought the guard would just burst out laughing and bend over, mocking you. But he just stood there, reflective mask showing you your distorted reflection. 

And then his head cocked, his hands flexed. 

You knew Loki was listening, through whatever kind of bond he’d set on these people. 

“Let me go, Loki,” you grit through your teeth. 

The guard shrugged. “I am inclined to watch what you’ll do with this little freedom,” the guard said, Loki’s words in his mouth distorted. “But I am afraid the Avengers are hot on your trail.”

Your fists clenched. “There’s nothing but Lucky Charms in the loft,” you groaned. “What in the hell am I supposed to do?”

The guard chuckled. “Wait for me to come home in a little skirt with dinner?” he suggested sarcastically.

You wanted to hit him, but you knew you’d only be hurting this mind-controlled man and not Loki. 

“Wow, I never took you for a backwards and traditional man,” you gritted.

Another chuckle, but this one felt condescending. “I am only expressing my deepest fantasy, darling.”

“Ew.” Then you inhaled, closing your eyes, mustering the energy to talk to him. “Loki, please, I - “

The guard put his hand up. “I am coming back soon, my darling,” he said, again, his voice distorted by Loki’s words. “I have stocked the living room with books you may enjoy in the meantime.”

And then the guard shuddered, his head dropping momentarily, Loki’s persona stripping itself from the stranger. The guard inhaled sharply, took one long look at you, and then turned on his heel and headed back to his post. 

You were tempted to make a run for it, but where? You had no idea where you were. The shimmering, hot horizon indicated not New York. And it’s not like you knew how to pilot a jet. 

With a bruised ego and a slump to your shoulders, you walked back to the loft, passing through the heated, messed-up lab without a wayward look. And as Loki had promised - through the guard - the living room table was stacked with leather bound books.

You picked one up. Legends and Myths of the Gods; Odin’s Pantheon. You rolled your eyes. Of course, Loki had stocked your book requiem with stories about him. How had you not seen this coming?

You huffed, throwing yourself on the brand new leather couch, opening the book, the spine cracking from time unused. 

The first chapter was all about Odin’s conception, down right to Loki’s adoption from the Frost Giants on Jotunnheim. A brisk, fleeting thought went to young Loki, learning that his father was not really his father, and that his mother, who loved him so, was not the one to bring him into this world. 

You skimmed through the chapters on Thor, because, let’s be honest, all you truly wanted to get to was Loki’s life. 

You read about his trickery, his skill and love for magic, something he’d picked up from the Queen. How Loki loved horses and literature. He loved delicacy, the richness of royalty, women, and - 

You read it over. Yes, Loki loved women. A lump formed in your throat as you skipped along, trying to find mention of any women in Loki’s life. All you found of concrete evidence was the women in his realm had started calling him Silver Tongue.

A blush crept up your cheeks, heating the flesh so bad that you had to slam the book shut.

And Loki stood right behind it, leaning against the wall leisurely. You all but jumped in your seat, knees to your chest, book clattering to the ground. 

He laughed. “Curious about good ol’ Loki’s past?” he asked, sauntering over, throwing himself down next to you. He lounged his left arm over the back of the couch, his dark blue sweater stretching over the expanse of his chest. 

Oh, if only he knew just what past exactly you were looking at. 

He spread his knees, black trousers clean, completely at ease. 

You gulped, pressing your knees further into your chest. He quirked his brow, his question still unanswered. 

“Oh,” you said, stuttering with the next words trying to come out. “I was just, um, reading through your family history.” Silver Tongue, you wanted to say. 

He huffed. “Nothing interesting there,” he hummed. You felt like there was something more to it, but you didn’t want to dig deeper because maybe you’d unveil something you didn’t want to see.

“Where were you?” you asked, deciding that maybe this conversation was going in a direction you rather not go. Yet.

He smiled. “Didn’t want to wait for me with dinner?”

You rolled your eyes. “I couldn’t find a skirt,” you mumbled sarcastically.

His brows rose so high on his forehead, you thought they’d fall off his face. “I could provide one, if you wish.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the heat on your cheeks. You unbent your knees, picking the book off the floor and replacing it on the pile. “I don’t like skirts,” you said, not really sure why you were saying this. 

“Why?” he asked, frowning. His left hand, the one draped over the couch, was dangerously close to the back of your head. “You’d look good in them.”

Again, heat rose to your cheeks, a group of butterflies taking flight in your belly. “No, I’m, uh, self-conscious.”

He leaned closer, frowning, the smell of him invading your senses in a rush. His knee bumped yours and your eyes fell there, where there was only the fabric of both your pants separating your skin. 

“Why?” he said, his voice low. 

You gulped. “I’ve never liked... my legs,” you admitted with a nonchalant shrug, still looking at his stupid left knee. 

There was a silence, a long silence, and you still stared at his knee as if his knee would start telling that your legs were nice.

Instead, his left hand landed on your thigh, not gripping, not groping, just lightly touching. When you looked up at him, his eyes bore into yours with a sincerity you’d never seen before. 

A small smile tugged at his mouth. “I’m sure you’re just as beautiful from the waist down.”

It was a weak attempt at making you feel better, but at least he tried. And even if it almost made you laugh, the idea that Loki thought you were beautiful made something tug deep in your belly. 

His hand shifted, fingers grazing exposed skin at your neck, tracing lines on your flesh. Raising goosebumps. Humming to himself. 

“You have such wonderful skin,” he murmured. You looked down at his lips molding the words. His fingers inched to your jaw, tracing up to the corner of your eye, bringing fire up with him. “Such beautiful eyes.” His words were like a melody to you, your body buzzing, reacting as much to his words as his touch.

His finger slid down to your lips, tracing the bottom one with his thumb, and you involuntarily turned to him. His eyes dropped down to your mouth quickly, returning to your gaze with a new, flickering flame. “Such a charming mouth,” he said, his voice roach, low, almost a whisper. 

You swallowed hard and Loki watched your throat bob. 

He inclined his head, his forehead grazing yours. You wanted to reach up, grasp the strands of his hair, but your fists were glue at your sides. 

He smirked, huffing. “I’ve wanted a soulmate for so long,” he admitted in a low voice. He licked his lips. Inching closer to you on the couch. “I want to do so many things to you,” he whispered.

You felt the heat creep up your face and you looked down, Loki’s thumb pushing against your lips, and he chuckled softly. 

“If you want to kiss something, I’m right here,” he said mockingly, and you smiled, pushing his hand away. He laughed softly, replacing his hand on the back of the couch.

He gave you a second to regain the normal temperature of your skin before chuckling to himself. “If you were in Asgard,” he said, his voice faraway. “People would bow to you. They’d call you Princess. You’d have a title and land. A crown. They’d call you My Lady when you are being stubborn.” 

You tried not to imagine it, really, you did. You tried not to imagine what a life could be like with Loki, on splendid and gold Asgard, living out your mortal days with a God. You really tried not to imagine it all because then it meant leaving Bruce behind, and leaving him in New York had not been easy, but leaving your brother forever? The thought was unimaginable. 

A lump rose in your throat when you said, “Tell me more.” You leaned into the couch, bringing your knees to your chest, chin on your kneecaps. 

Loki smiled brightly, his fingers lightly playing with your hair, and told what your life would be like if you were immortal, if you were Asgardian, if you were not truly and wholly you.

tags:  @subtlemalice @yallgotkik @buckyandlokirunmylife @kaz11283 @legolas-bromance @shylittlemountain @tofeartheunknown @feelmyfckngsoul @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay @caffiend-queen @tomhollandsslilslut @lady-loki-ren @nathan-no @rosaline-black @abundanceofcarolines @my-own-oracle @it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream @marvelouslovely @drbaureid @bored-as-hell-666 @youhavemyfantasticbeasts @theinfinitenerd @toe-vind-ek-jou @ink-and-starlight @blank-bakabane @sunshineonloki @holaamishamigos @palegoopbearlight @heyarely16 @pleaseexecuteme @athalahild @help-i-need-a-social-life @tapismyforte @coloursforyourportrait @celestialstarshadow @fukyouthink @lust-for-pan @thic-thor 

[loving-all-for-loki]

i really love your writing sm. could I maybe request something with Loki and reader being slow to realize that the feeling is mutual? if you dont mind <3

A/N: Thank you so much! I’m glad you enjoy my writing, that makes me very happy to hear. I tried my best with this, I wasn’t really sure how to go about it, but I think I did a fun little twist to it. The italics are flashbacks. ALSO, you don’t need to know the song “Stuck In The Middle” to read this, but it will make this fic a little bit cuter if you do, so go stream it! It’s by Tai Verdes (actually just go listen to his whole album TV). I hope you enjoy this, nonnie.

Stuck In The Middle

Loki x reader

Word count: 2255

Warnings: fluff, maybe swearing I don't remember lol

Tony decided to throw another one of his giant parties, but no one is really sure why. There’s no holiday, no accomplishment to celebrate. All you know is that the tower is filled to the brim with high named people and well rounded faces. Music is blaring as people lounge around drinking or casually dancing. The Avengers are all around, scattered among the faces.

You on the other hand are leaning against a wall drinking some pop and trying to ignore the creepy men that hit on you. Parties are fine, you don’t mind them, but you don't go around gloating about your business or accomplishments. You watch Tony walk around getting praised by millionaires and celebrities with a smirk on your face. Shaking your head, you look down and give your glass of water more attention than the people.

“You really should get out there.”

Steve stands next to you with his little suit on that makes you laugh. You’re not used to seeing him all dressed up.

“I’m not a boaster. I’ll dance here and there, but conversation isn’t my forte.”

“You're having a conversation with me, so what does that say?” He laughs.

“I don’t need your technicalities, Cap,” you laugh as well.

“You don’t even have to talk to people you don’t know. We’re all here.”

“Fair enough.”

“Do you want me to stay here with you?”

“No, Steve. Go have fun.”

He smiles at you before returning to his seat at the bar by Bucky and Sam. You smile at the three of them. You do truly love your friends, even if they bother you during alone time.

“Why would you enjoy them if they bother you?”

“Loki, stop reading my mind.”

“I can’t. You’re quite loud,” he jokes.

You roll your eyes as you take another sip of your water.

“Do you not like these grand parties?” He asks.

“Eh, I don’t mind them. Just not a bragger.”

“Ah, yes. One night dedicated to gloating about your own accomplishments while putting down others.”

“No, that’s the Oscars,” you joke.

“Who is Oscar?”

“Never mind. Why you go out and dance? I bet you have some moves.”

“Not without a partner. I’m more of a partner dancer.”

“Well, there’s plenty of pretty girls around you to ask to dance.”

“Why dance with a pretty girl when I have the most beautiful one right here leaning against a wall and ignoring everyone? That’s more my style.”

“Loki, I’m flatter,” you laugh, “is this your way of asking me to dance?”

“Possibly. Thor has been bugging me to ‘get out there’ and I don’t like anyone here beside you.”

“Such a gentleman.”

Loki rolls his eyes as he takes your hand in his and leads you to the dance floor. The song changes into a fun chill song you recognize as “Stuck In The Middle”. You and Loki dance together as the two of you laugh. At some point, he pulls you into him, holding him at your chest.

“Remember when we first met?” He asks.

“Yeah, I do. You were arguing with Tony and Thor.”

“I want to return to Asgard and I will no matter what you say.”

“You’re a war criminal serving time here for your attacks. If you even attempted to go back, the American army would shoot you down.”

“And good luck to them.”

“My brother is a god, Man of Iron, do not forget.”

“Shut it, point break. You can try to leave if you want to die.”

Loki scoffs at Tony’s threat. As he goes to open his mouth, he sees a girl wander into the living area and scour the kitchen. The three watch her in silent and she opens every cabinet. Loki is curious by the girl with her long black hair and sweats on, clearing not caring about the argument happening. She finally turns around with her mouth filled with pretzels from shoving them in. She looks at the two gods and Tony with a wide eyed look, clearly asking “what” in her face and shrugging.

“Am I interrupting something?” She asks after swallowing.

Tony laughs and shakes his head, walking over to her and placing a hand on her shoulder.

“You’re fine, sweetheart. We’re just having a disagreement. Go enjoy your pretzels,” Tony chuckles.

Loki watches the way she submits to Tony and follows his lead, wondering who she is and why she listens to Tony without hesitation.

“I was so intrigued by you, this small little thing who looked so full of life. What happened to her?”

You laugh hard, “You got to know me, that’s what.”

Loki hadn’t seen the innocent girl in two weeks, wondering if she was even real. There had been some kind of glow to her so had he known better, he’d say she’s an angel.

Loki decided to coop himself up in the library while he was stuck on Midgard. Since he was stuck here, he thought he’d at least spend time doing something enjoyable. He’d spend hours in there until he had read every book and started to reread them. Then, as if the universe had heard him, the innocent girl had returned, putting a book away and getting a new one. She immediately walked out of the room and down to the tower’s elevator. Without hesitation, Loki got up and followed her at a quick pace, wanting to get in the elevator at the same time. As he walked in, they stood in silence next to each other and Loki realized he had no plan.

“I’m Loki. I don’t think we properly met.”

“Y/N.”

Loki feels his heart pound as she speaks to him with her heavenly tone. She sounds exactly like he thought she’d sound. It fits her so perfectly and he wants nothing more than to listen to her talk all day.

“I apologize for anything you heard the other day. Stark and I don’t see eye to eye.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she laughs, “He can strike a nerve sometimes.”

“That is an understatement,” Loki says, losing himself in his anger towards the billionaire.

You laugh at his comment which eases his anger. Loki is filled with joy knowing you find humor in his words, learning you’re not as stuck up as the other Midgardians.

“You read?”

“Yes, I love to.”

“What’s your favorite book?”

“Sense and Sensibility.”

“I don’t think I know that one.”

“It’s a Midgardian classic,” you say with some snark.

“I’ll have to read it. May I ask what you are doing for the rest of the day?”

The elevator opens and the two of you walk off, Loki still following you with awe.

“I’m going to spar with Steve for a little bit. You can join if you want.”

“I will not participate, but will not refuse to be of company.”

You smile at him as you walk towards the training room. Steve stands there getting ready and is surprised to see the stoic god behind you.

“Is he joining?”

“Just to watch.”

Loki sits down on the bench and leaves you to get changed and stretch. He can’t comprehend how something as sweet as you can be so willing to fight one of the super soldiers. He can’t even lie that he’s scared for you, but he’s soon proven wrong in seconds as you knock Steve down to the ground in a sweet kick. You and the super soldier go at it and you prove to be a worthy match for Steve. Loki is shocked by your swiftness and strength, clearly underestimating you.

“Well, I’m impressed.”

“I didn’t expect you to be as tough as you are.” “Wow, you underestimated me. I’m hurt, Loki,” you tease.

“I’ve learned to expect the unexpected with you.”

“How so?”

“I think we all remember your silly holiday ‘April fools’.”

April fools is one of your favorite holidays and now that the trickster god is living with you, all of the avengers are on high alert all day. No one realized he didn’t know about the special day, so Loki wondered why everyone seemed to ignore him more than usual. He walked into the living space to see you sitting on the couch with another book.

“Did I do something?” He asks.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m aware I’m not well liked, but it seems that I haven’t seen anyone all day except for you right now.”

“It’s because its’ April fools and they’re scared of you.”

A little ping of pride hits Loki.

“They’re scared of me? And what is April fools?”

“It’s a dumb holiday here where you prank people and they’re worried you’re going to pull something. After all, you are you.”

“You have a whole day dedicated to messing with people?”

“Yeah, usually it’s something simple like telling people you’re pregnant when you’re not or tying the spray nozzle on the sink together so everyone gets wet when they use it. Other people go big which is what they expected from you.”

“That doesn’t shock me,” he laughs.

“Yeah, I wanted to prank them, but I think they’ve left the building entirely.”

“You say we have the tower to the two of us?” Loki can think of a couple ways he’d spend alone time with you, but the idea of messing with the Avengers with your help is too tempting. He’ll have to put his other ideas to the side for the moment. “We can still do something.”

“Like what?”

“I’m not sure, but you could think of something, I’m sure.”

“We could glue everything down so you can use anything?”

“Like stick the together?”

“Exactly, but we could use your magic so we could reverse it later.”

“I like how you think.”

About two hours later, the Avengers return from wherever they had been throughout the day and run to their rooms to avoid Loki. As soon as they noticed the two of you relaxing on the couch, they tensed up and sprinted. You pretended to not have told Loki about anything and watched them get nervous, trying to hide your amusement.

It’s only minutes later when they all run back in yelling at you about how they can’t pick anything up or open drawers. Loki looks over to you among the chaos and smiles, seeing the wide proud smile across your face.

“That was a lot of fun. You surprised me in the past though, too.”

“Whatever do you mean?” He laughs.

You had gotten hurt on a mission and found yourself with a broken arm. Every day activities became 10x harder because you have to do it with your non-dominant hand and it’s started to get annoying. You’ve been attempting to make yourself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for about 25 minutes now. Loki walked in to see you struggling with peanut butter all over your hand and a glob on the bread. There’s a giant tear in the middle of the piece you’re spreading it on and a frown on your face.

“You look like you’re struggling.”

“Thank you, captain obvious!” You exclaim in an angry tone, glaring daggers at the god.

“Do you need some help?”

“I would love some because clearly, I’m having some difficulty.”

Loki comes over and helps you finish making your sandwich. You sit down to eat but because of your bad mood, you don’t even want it now. Loki notices your distress and shakes it head, waving his hand by.

“You’re healed, now eat your sandwich.”

You look at him in confusion until you realize your arm doesn’t hurt as much when you move it. You rip off your cast and feel around to feel how your arm is completely healed.

“Thank you!”

“You can be very sweet sometimes.”

“Don’t let Stark hear that, he’ll think I have mind controlled you.”

The Avengers all sit around the bar and watch you and Loki dance. They have a big smile on their face as they see you two have fun, laughing and talking. Thor has never seen his brother look so relaxed and joyful before, it’s refreshing to see him happy. Steve and Tony don’t miss the way you look at Loki, it’s filled with more love than any friends would look at each with.

“You think there’s more there?” Thor asks.

Steve and Tony turn to look at him with confused yet amused faces. “Thor, you really are an idiot,” Tony laughs.

The song comes up to the last chorus and you and Loki have stopped talking. He swings you around and holds his body next to yours. The music get’s both of your attention.

Cause we’re stuck in the middle of lover and friends

And we’re losing every part of the benefits

You’ve hurt me more than I ever knew

But it’s shitty because I’m doing the same to you

As the lyrics set in, you remember all the things Loki has done for you. Making your PB&J, recommending books, keeping you company when the Avengers are away, dancing with you at New Years parties, giving you a hug when you return from missions, and not leaving your side when you’re hurt. Loki thinks of all the things that made you bearable. Your sense of humor, the smile on your face when you see him, the way you’ll reread books you love, the way you make fun of others with him, and how you defend him when they make fun of him.

“I think I like you,” you both say.

[gogglor]

Cap-Ironman RecWeek: What-If Wednesday

Time for another installment of @cap-ironman rec week! Today’s theme: AU’s.

I know AU’s in different settings are half the reason most people read fanfics, but they’re not really my thing on the whole. AU’s where different choices are made, or different events transpire? Absolutely. Coffee shops? Not my cup of... you know.

So, here’s my AU recommendations for mostly “turn left” scenarios. This time with an under-the-cut break so I don’t take over everyone’s timelines (sorry about that last post). Also with some summaries truncated for length.

Alone Like This

Author: GotTheSilver

Word Count: 7,452

Summary: Steve, post waking up, runs away from SHIELD, and Tony's the one who tracks him down.

Why You Should Read It:

First off, GotTheSilver’s been consistently and regularly putting out solid Stony since 2012 and not only are they not stopping, they’re only getting better. This writer doesn’t get nearly the fanfare I’d expect in Stony circles for someone who puts out this much good stuff, and here’s hoping this post can be a part of changing that.

While I am always a sucker for enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, there’s something to be said for stories where Steve and Tony hit it off right away. And watching these two very different people look at each other and see the same sense of being lost, then finding each other again is... excuse me, there’s something in my eye, ignore me.

Second Chance Lives

Author: raeldaza

Word Count: 43,872

Summary: Tony's gonna die of palladium poisoning anyway, why not join a pointless expedition to recover Captain America’s body? And after, well, why not dedicate his last few months to making sure an American hero settles into his new life? What else is he going to do, get drunk at parties?

Why You Should Read It:

This writer doesn’t write a lot for the MCU but when they do, dang.

“Tony is the one helping Steve acclimate to the new century before Avengers 2012″ is a whole genre of Stony fanfics that scratch an itch I didn’t even know I had before I started reading fanfiction, and this is one of the best ones out there. It’s got it all - Steve poorly coping with his PTSD, Tony poorly coping with his immanent mortality, some breathtakingly poor communication between the two most emotionally stunted men in the MCU, and a cat named Roomba. What’s not to love?

Should You Choose to Accept It

Author: elwenyere (look, you’re gonna be seeing a lot of them this week, sorry-not-sorry)

Word Count: 27,106

Summary: After a terrorist attack and a field operation gone wrong, the Avengers realize that Nick Fury's secrets are just the start of a much bigger mystery. Steve and Tony try to keep some things from each other as well, but that can't possibly affect the mission — right? Mission Fic + Getting Together (or Mission: Getting Together) that mashes up elements from Iron Man 3, CA: Winter Soldier, Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. season one, and Mission Impossible 3.

Why You Should Read It:

You can see my post yesterday for singing El’s praises, but what I really liked about this fic was how how damn creative it is. The CAWS/IM3/AOS mashup is everything I wished the actual MCU gave us and more, with well-developed characters and an exciting story to put them in. And because it’s El, you know the banter’s gonna be on point, the way the characters care for each other is gonna be emotionally constipated but touching, and the pacing’s gonna be exciting enough to draw you in and keep you there. Also, this fic doesn’t have nearly enough kudos so please go read it and fix that or I’m gonna have to try to hack AO3 and that’ll just be embarrassing for all parties involved.

What Happens In Vegas

Author: sabremc

Word Count: 161,951

Summary: “What the hell, Tony?” Rhodey demanded brusquely.  Tony winced and drew the phone away from his ear.  “You’ve got cops and Feds all over the hotel.  I’m watching you perp walk out of the police station on repeat on CNN.  They’re saying you tried to bribe Stern?  Fox News has you selling weapons on the black market, and God that picture they’re using is the one from Bali in ’09.   You look like shit.  They wheeled Stern out and put him in an ambulance, by the way.  Got some paparazzi swearing you decked the guy.  Now they’ve got ‘copters following it like he’s OJ.”

“Yeah, don’t worry, Sourpatch, I’ve got it covered.   Uh, though, I should probably tell you that, purely in the interests of national security and the greater good, I kind of had to fake marry that stripper-gram  you sent.  Thanks for that, by the way,” Tony added quickly.

Why You Should Read It:

If you’re deep enough into Stony to see posts like this on Tumblr, you probably know sabre’s what we in the business call a “big name author.” They’re prolific, they’re popular, and most importantly, they write words good (technical term). Seriously, sabre just keeps cranking out high quality stuff over and over again, raising the bar for the rest of us like a jerk (not really. I’m not bitter they write stuff so good I wish I’d thought of it first. Not at all.)

I never read stripper!Steve or stripper!Tony as a rule, but this came so widely recommended that I broke that rule and boy am I glad that I did. This is also the only fic on this list that’s a true-AU, with Steve being a non-powered vet from Afghanistan who left his army career to help Bucky and is stripping in Vegas to raise money for a prosthetic arm. He’s booked to do a private show for Tony, shenanigans ensue, and now they’re fake-married. This fic’s got some top-of-the-line banter and character development, but I particularly love it for its rich setting. Sabre paints a Vegas not just with strip clubs and blackjack tables, but KISS-themed minigolf, romantic dinners on the Eiffel tower, gaudy hotel lobbies, and making out on giant ferris wheels. It’s such a richly developed playground for the characters to play on, and through it, Steve manages to find a life for himself he’d given up on, and Tony finds multiple ways to show his kindness and depth of feeling for Steve. I know the word count’s long for this one but trust me, you’ve gotta read this fic.

Wait & Sea

Author: Lenalena

Word Count: 53,244

Summary: In which Tony and Steve get sent on an undercover mission aboard a cruise ship to make contact with Hydra. In this AU the military has kept the discovery and defrosting of Captain America a secret, so Steve and Tony have never met before. Yet they are to pose as newlyweds....

Why You Should Read It:

This one’s old and popular enough to be considered one of the “classic” Stony fics, and for good reason. Lenalena doesn’t write too often and not as much as they used to, but the fics they have up there are an absolute delight.

This is another fic that I skipped a bunch of times for being outside my comfort zone, but when I finally read it I saw why everyone’s so wild about it. In this story, Steve’s defrosted a bit earlier and not revealed as Captain America. He and Tony are sent undercover to sniff out Hydra shenanigans on a cruise and, because it’s fanfiction, they’ve got to pretend to be a married couple while onboard. There’s tons to love about this fic, but the things that bring me back to reading it over and over is first, Tony’s kindness and the way he’s attuned to Steve’s feelings, which... God, just inject “kind, observant Tony” straight into my veins, please and thank you. This is also another really rich setting for a story, and Lena knows how to fold the the hokeyness of the cruise into the seriousness of the mission and the depth of feelings Steve and Tony are finding for each other in a really beautiful, layered way. It’s funny, it’s heartfelt, it’s steamy, it’s gripping... why are you still reading this here? Go check it out for yourself!

Ashes to Ashes

Author: dirigibleplumbing

Word Count: 51,582

Summary: After regrouping following some surprise time travel, the world's heroes and sorcerers come up with a plan to protect the Mind and Time Stones by taking them into space in opposite directions. The result involves a lot more time loops than Steve would like, but at least they're getting a second chance to stop Thanos. (As well as a third, and a fourth...) And if Steve takes the opportunity to try to reconcile with Tony, too—well, they have the time, and Steve's going to make the most of it.

Why You Should Read It:

Dirigibleplumbing’s another name in Stony fanfics that does not get nearly as much fanfare as they deserve. They’re consistently a really creative voice in Stony fanfics and I always look forward to their stories showing me something new. Go read all their fics, I need more people to geek out with me over them.

I tend to limit myself on Steve-and-Tony-mend-things-after-Civil-War fics not because they’re not good, but because they’re so heavy, and also the Sokovia Accords have five hundred layers of crap in them that no good fic could possibly hash out well. This one, though? When you add in the Infinity War/End Game fixit? Poetry. Art. Music to my ears. DP wrote a really engaging, twisty story where it’s hard to predict what’s coming next, in spite of it literally being a pseudo-Groundhog day scenario. The characterizations are great, the story is engaging, and the feelings are big and sad and eventually happy. Go read it, you’ll love it.

I have tons of other recs for this category but this seems like a good place to stop for today. Tomorrow’s Alternative Media Thursday, and I’ve got some real gems I’ve been saving for that day (aaaaand possibly a self-rec or two ;)

[stressisakiller]

As You Wish

Steve Rogers x Reader Soulmate AU

(As you wish Part 2)

Summary: What happens when after moving into Stark Tower you run into a certain Captain

Warnings: None really, fluff, like one cussword a little bit of spice

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: Fluffy chapter yay!  Let me know what you think and if you have any requests for future chapters! Thank yall for reading!’

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Life working side by side with Tony was dangerous. When Killian attacked Tony it was you not Pepper who was taken and subjected to the Extremis serum. This caused you to heal crazy fast and gave you super strength, which was pretty cool but not very useful for someone who spent most of their time in a robotics lab trying not to crush something when it wasn't working.

You later discovered that Killian mistakenly believed that you were in fact Tony's soulmate, while you had always thought that it was Pepper. She quickly refuted your claim when you told her, pulling the back of her jeans down enough to show the smiley face that graced her butt cheek. Turns out that her soulmate was none other than Happy the head of security.

 About six months after the battle of new york, after Tony and the whole Killian/Mandarin situation, Tony asked very nicely if you would move into the Avengers tower with him. He needed to get the Avengers tower going, and after everything that happened and his panic attacks, he really didn't want to live there alone. He was also hoping that if you lived in the tower that the avengers would be more willing to as well. By this point you had met and become friends with most of them save for Captain America, he hasn’t been around much. He was trying to find his place in this new world and taking as many missions as Shield will give him in order to feel needed 

The tower was much different this time than the last time you had been there. There was less plastic film and dust everywhere and all of the construction work was done. Most notably, the wall on Stark's living room floor was no longer a gaping hole.

The top eight levels of the tower were for the avengers. The penthouse was where Tony stayed, no surprise there. The level directly below was his lab space which was restricted access for the most part and then there was the common level under that. The common level was composed of a large kitchen and dining area, as well as a massive living room with the biggest tv you had ever seen. This floor also houses a theater, and an arcade room equipped with pool tables and any other game you could think of. Tony is such a child sometimes, not that you were complaining you loved to play pool. The next three floors are where you and the rest of the Avengers would live. You would each get your own suite that you could arrange and decorate however you saw fit. Each suite includes a kitchenette, and small living room that was separate from the bedroom, and a massive ensuite bath. The lowest two levels were dedicated to the training room and medical ward, as well as a giant pool and sauna area, these floors allowed for outside access as long as they were vetted.

Six months later, life in the tower was going well. You, Tony and Bruce, were the main people living there. You could understand that though, Nat and Clint were constantly out on missions for shield and mainly stayed on base in DC. Tony told you that Steve was currently living in an apartment in DC. He didn't want to live on base but he was running missions for Shield on and off. Thor was off-world with Loki so life was pretty quiet. 

 Then there was a mission that the Captain went on that didn’t go the way he thought. He was wounded and brought back a captive. You were in the common area when the door was thrown open and a bloody Steve Rogers burst through carrying a soaking wet girl over his shoulder.

“The Medical wing, where is it?” He questioned voice hard from pain or fatigue or both. 

“This way.” you hurried off, not looking behind you, you knew that he would follow. 

When you arrived, you called for Dr. Cho and Steve told her what was going on and placed the girl on a stretcher. The nurses pushed her to a room to monitor her until she woke up. He was then shown to a separate room to be looked over and have the bullet removed. 

 That night Tony pulled you into the living room to watch your favorite movie, the princess bride. It was about halfway through when an exhausted Steve came through the door and flopped down on the couch beside the one that you and Tony were currently lounging on. It was coming to your favorite part, Buttercup was currently yelling at the Dread Pirate Roberts and about to push him down the hill.

“Oooh,” you said hitting Tony’s shoulder, “I love this part,” you spoke along with Wesley as he rolled down the hill, “As you Wiiiisssshhhh.” you clapped your hands together, “that will forever be the best reveal ever.” 

You didn’t notice Steve’s stare as you said those words. Holy Shit he thought his tattoo finally made sense, and yet the girl that fate said was perfect for him had her legs thrown over Tony’s lap and was leaning against him while watching the movie. He stood quickly and stomped out of the room, today was just not his day. 

 You look over at Tony confused when Steve left.

“What the hell do you think that was about?” you asked, growing more confused as you noticed the smirk on Tony’s lips.

“Why are you smiling like that?” You had to stop yourself from slapping him when he started to laugh.

“What the hell, Stark, tell me what's going on?”

“I think that Capsicle just realized that you're his soulmate.” He said through chuckles.

“What the fuck do you mean he realized that I’m his soulmate?” you asked your whole body going still as you waited for him to elaborate.

“I thought you had realized this earlier,” he said looked genuinely confused, “The captain is your soulmate, I’ve known since we had that movie night after finding him in the ice. Your tattoo is his dog tags with the flower of his birth month and a phrase that I’ve heard him say multiple times while next to him in a fight.”

You just sat there frozen trying to comprehend what exactly the man sitting in front of you was saying. 

“You know, he may be a little jealous that his soulmate was cuddling someone else since he probably doesn’t realize that you're like a sister to me. You should probably go after him.”  His words seemed to break you from your trance as you threw yourself very clumsily from the couch to follow after him.

“Jarvis, where did Rogers go?” 

“He is in the training room miss.”

“Thanks, J”

You ran all the way down, opening the door you were met by the scene of Steve hitting a punching bag so hard that it broke and flew off of its chain.

“You know, I’m not sure that those are made to withstand the punch of a super soldier, maybe I should design one that can,” you said leaning against the wall and trying not to show the fact that your heart was beating a million miles a minute.

“And why would you feel the need to do that, I’m sure Stark has plenty of things that he needs you to design that are more important than a Steve-proof punching bag.” You could tell that he was gritting his teeth as he spoke, reaching for another bag. You step towards him slowly, making sure not to walk too quickly from fear of him leaving.

“Well I’m sure that the great Tony Stark can take care of himself, and anyways, I think creating something to make my soulmate's life easier is more important.”

He slowly pulled his eyes from the punching bag that he was hanging onto the hook to look at you, pain obvious in his eyes.

“Really? Cause you seemed pretty comfortable with him.” you could see the vulnerability in his eyes as he spoke, he had gone through so much already.

“Yes really, Tony is more like an annoying older brother than anything. I’ve been working around him for the past five or so years, trust me when I say that I have no desire to date him. You on the other hand.” You made sure that your voice turned teasing on the last words, you wanted to make him smile, you hadn’t gotten to see that yet.

“Well good, cause I think I may have to kick his ass if you did.” You could hear the teasing lilt in his voice and the hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. But as quickly as it came it was gone.

“How long have you known?” his voice cracked a little as he spoke. You let out a small huff of a laugh.

“Would you believe me if I told you that Tony had to tell me when I was confused as to why you left the room?” His eyes snapped to yours.

“Really? You didn’t know?”

“After not meeting my soulmate by the time I turned 25 I just pushed it to the back of my mind, I stopped trying to figure out what my tattoo meant and I focused on my work. Plus there were a couple of life-threatening instances that distracted me." You joked. You weren't 100% sure how to handle this situation, your main friend group consisted of a playboy philanthropist and a science nerd that turned into a giant green guy when angry, not really the best people to show you how to be vulnerable.

“I understand that," he said pausing before continuing, "part of my problem was that my tattoo didn’t show up until after I came out of the ice.” he looked down at his hands and you noticed that they were fidgeting, he must be just as nervous as you.

“I didn’t know that,” you murmured, deciding to ask the question that was begging to be asked.

“What is your tattoo, if you don’t mind me asking?”

He shook his head, “Not at all.” he stepped towards you and pulled up his sleeve, and turned out his arm so you could see the flesh just under his armpit. As soon as you saw the tattoo you burst out laughing.

“Of course that’s what my mark is, man I’m such a nerd.” You clutched your stomach as you laughed, tears coming to your eyes from the range of emotions that you are currently going through.

“Can I ask why I have this tattooed on me?” He questioned, clearly curious to the reasoning as to why he had a movie quote on his arm forever. You were finally able to pull yourself together and sober up from the surprise of his tattoo.

“That movie came out the year after I was born and it was my mom’s favorite movie to watch with me, we watched it at least 4 times a year. But we always made sure to watch it on my birthday as a family, it became an integral part of my life, plus it’s just sooo quotable.” you said with a smile, “Do you want to look at my tattoo?” you asked motioning at your arm with your head. He slowly nodded, not able to find the words.

You slowly pulled your sleeve up, showing him the inside of your forearm and the dog tags that graced your skin. He stepped forward gently taking your arm in his hand so that he could study the markings on your skin. Tracing the outline and the words that he could see before smiling.

“What does it mean?” you asked softly looking at him through your lashes.

“It’s um,” he cleared his throat, “it’s my dog tags or at least the lower one is, it says my name, then Captain America and the city I was born in, Brooklyn. The top one however is something that I always seem to say when I’m getting beat up in a fight in order to remind myself that I could do it. And the flower… I think it’s the flower from my birth month? I was born in July so I think it’s a reference to that.” You nodded at his explanation, his fingers still gently tracing over your skin, causing goosebumps to pop up from the feeling.

“So, would you like to watch the movie with me? We can start it over so that you won’t be lost. I know that you struggle with pop culture, old man.” You smirked at him as you spoke, he just rolled his eyes.

“Be careful, this old man could still show you a thing or two.”

You laughed out loud at that, your laugh changed to a squeal when you felt him wrap his arms around your legs and throw you over his shoulder. 

“Ahh, let me down!!” you beat at his shoulders trying to get him to release you but he wouldn’t budge, he just continued to carry you until you ended back in the living room and he threw you down onto the couch. He wasn’t even breathing hard after carrying you up 2 flights of stairs, jerk. 

Tony was nowhere to been seen as you restarted the movie. You ran and grabbed some more popcorn to share, pouring in some M&Ms before plopping back down next to Steve and pulling on your couch blanket. It didn't take long for you to cuddle into his side and for your eyes to droop. 

Steve smiled at you when he realized that you had passed out before you even got to the part he had walked in on earlier. He didn't mind though, he just got comfortable and pulled you in closer before allowing himself to relax and fall asleep. 

Tagged Users: @writerwrites

[the-widow-sisters]

Never Too Big

Summary: Three times that Yelena makes up an excuse to sit on her big sister's lap and one time she doesn't. Natasha just feels blessed to have her sister so close. Well, that is, when Yelena's not doing it to be irritating.

Word Count: 2416

  The first time that Yelena sat in Natasha’s lap since they were children in Ohio was one afternoon when Yelena returned from her trip to the nearest convenience store where she had gotten one of those cheap crushed ice smoothie things. Natasha had been working out and had just finished changing her clothes when she sat down in Yelena’s favorite armchair. Yelena walked through the front door shortly after she took the seat.

   “Welcome home…. Were they out of the smoothies?” Natasha questioned hopefully as she heard Yelena dropping her bag on the table. Yelena laughed humorlessly and Natasha could not help the grin that came onto her face in response to the girl.

  “Nope. The machines were full, and I got a cherry-flavored one,” Yelena responded, and Natasha’s smile dropped as she scrunched her nose in slight disgust.

  “Gross,” Natasha expressed wholeheartedly.

  “You just don’t know what tastes good,” Yelena shot back as she entered the living room, pausing immediately just in front of the armchair that Natasha was currently slumped in. Natasha shifted her gaze up to look at the blonde who was currently staring down at her.

  “That’s my seat. Move,” Yelena spoke, but Natasha could hear the slight teasing in her voice, and the redhead knew that she was just trying to mess with her.

  “No. I’m resting,” Natasha replied, closing her eyes as she sunk in more deeply in the armchair. Her muscles were aching from her particularly exerting workout earlier, and every part of her hurt too much. It made her realize that she was perhaps getting too old for this sort of effort.

  “How is your butt taking up that much space? Move over and let me sit,” Yelena informed her, and Natasha shook her head, reopening her eyes to look at Yelena in disbelief.

  “There’s a literal couch right over there,” Natasha informed her, and Yelena just raised an eyebrow as she stared at her sister with a challenge in her eyes. Natasha reciprocated the gaze with just as strong of resolve as the blonde.

  However, to Natasha’s utmost surprise, Yelena just suddenly spun around and sat down on Natasha’s legs, leaning back against Natasha’s front. Natasha huffed in surprise, and Yelena just happily sucked on her smoothie.

  “What are you doing?” Natasha asked, and Yelena shrugged.

  “Sitting in my spot.”

  “Well, it looks like you’re sitting on me,” Natasha bluntly informed her, and Yelena shifted her weight so that she was settled more heavily on Natasha. Natasha grunted with the force.

  “It feels that way, too,” Natasha added, her voice a little strained, and Yelena just wiggled so that she was more slumped against Natasha’s body and her head was resting just above Natasha’s shoulder as her rear end settled between Natasha’s legs comfortably.

  “You’re not very comfortable,” Yelena informed her, getting another swig of her drink as she flashed her honey-green eyes in Natasha’s direction. Natasha sighed deeply, a façade of aggravation on her face but her true emotions reflecting nothing of the sort.

  “Then go lay on the couch,” Natasha replied, but there was no real venom or insistence in her voice. It was mostly defeat since she knew how this was going to end. Yelena wanted to sit in that location and she definitely was not going to give in.

  Yelena just shook her head, snuggling closer to Natasha. Natasha just groaned before resting her head against Yelena’s shoulder and closing her eyes as Yelena watched the television with the sound turned down on it. She pulled her arm up and around Yelena’s waist as she pulled her back against her.

  Natasha knew her sister was just being stubborn, but Natasha was not going to let that get in the way of Natasha herself enjoying the close contact with her favorite person in the world.

  ……………………………………………………………………………………………

     The second time it happened, Natasha was trying to have an adult, civilized conversation with Clint Barton on her phone. They were facetiming because his kids had wanted to talk to their Auntie Nat, and she was much too soft-hearted toward them to turn them down, despite the fact that she did not enjoy facetiming at all.

  However, just when Clint had gotten the phone back and had started talking to Nat by himself, Yelena chose that moment to strike.

  She came up to the side of the couch where Natasha was sitting, staring at her insistently. Natasha just ignored her, continuing her conversation with Clint. She could feel Yelena’s glare more than she actually saw it, but if she focused on her peripheral vision, she could definitely see the furrowed eyebrows.

  She motioned to Yelena to tell her to give her a moment, and she could tell from the change in Yelena’s posture that this was not going to be good enough for her.

  But Natasha kept her focus on Clint. She could worry with Yelena’s drama later once she was off the phone.

  What she did not count on was the fact that Yelena was going to just plop down in her lap, squishing one of her arms that was holding the phone up which caused the phone to fall out of her hand. Natasha let out a noise of surprise, and Yelena just relaxed there, a giant smirk on her face as she eyed Natasha wickedly.

  “Clint, hang on! Yelena, what in the—”

  “I needed you to pay attention,” Yelena told her simply, and Natasha rolled her eyes.

  “Why?! What is it?!” Natasha demanded, wondering just what would warrant Yelena so rudely interrupting her and Clint’s conversation. From Yelena’s giant, cheese-eating grin, Natasha assumed that it was very likely a reason that was not worth all of the drama that Yelena had taken upon herself to create.

  “We’re out of sour cream and onion potato chips,” Yelena answered her simply before cackling. Natasha just groaned deeply, and she could hear Clint laughing from the phone’s place in the floor.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes! They’re my favorite and I needed to make sure you got them on the grocery list,”

  “It could’ve waited, though,” Natasha informed her, bending around her and grabbing the phone that had hit the floor. She was not really angry with the blonde, but she was slightly aggravated by her love of annoying the redhead.

  “No, it couldn’t have. Sour cream and onion is the best in the world and the fact that we have no more is an issue of Avenger-level importance,” Yelena declared, and Natasha sighed in slight irritation as she held the phone up so that it was above Yelena’s shoulder and facing Natasha.

  Clint was grinning widely.

  “Sounds like you need to get off the phone and go get her some potato chips,” Clint told her, and Yelena’s grin was as big as his. Natasha rolled her eyes and rested her chin on Yelena’s shoulder since it was so conveniently there to serve as a chinrest.

  “Yeah, Natashka. I’m hungry,” Yelena informed her, looking over at the older woman. Natasha shifted her gaze from the phone over to Yelena’s adoring gaze which, of course, the blonde likely did not know looked so loving when she was trying to be irritating.

  “You’re always hungry,” Natasha shot back, but her words did not possess the fire that she halfheartedly attempted to summon into them.

  “Hey, look at that, she’s got something in common with you, Barton,” Natasha added, raising an eyebrow at the man on the phone. He deflated a bit as she chuckled at his reaction.

  Yelena snuggled in a little further, making her own quip, and Natasha could not help but notice how comfortable the younger girl was in this situation.

  Of course, Natasha could not say anything since she was just as contented as the blonde.

   ……………………………………………………………………………………………

      The third time it happened, Natasha was peacefully sitting and quietly enjoying Melina’s company as the woman busied about in the kitchen and was working to serve dinner for their weird, dysfunctional little family.

  “Hello,” Yelena suddenly interrupted the atmosphere, marching through the door as if she had a definitive purpose and reason, and Melina turned her head with a slight smile.

  “Hello, dear,” Melina kindly replied, warmth in her voice as she addressed the girl. Natasha just smiled lovingly at her younger sister.

  “Hey, little one,” Natasha greeted, and Yelena narrowed her eyes as she stared at Natasha. However, there was an unhidden adoration in her gaze as she eyed the redhead. Natasha quirked an eyebrow, wondering what her younger sister was about to say to her.

  “I’ve got a bone to hack with you. I heard that you said—"

  “Pick,” Natasha interrupted, barely holding back a laugh as she relaxed in her chair, noting Melina’s disapproving glance at the slouching. Natasha was convinced that she was not slouching, but she straightened just a little to avoid Melina’s chastisement. Yelena immediately looked confused at Natasha’s interruption, and she blinked at her.

  “What?” Yelena questioned, her voice conveying her cluelessness.

  “A bone to pick. You said hack,” Natasha corrected, and Yelena narrowed her eyes. Natasha had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing at the younger girl’s expression and overall irritation with Natasha.

  “Whatever. I heard that you said I was not cute anymore,” Yelena informed her, and Natasha suddenly realized that the girl looked almost offended about the whole thing. Natasha might be slightly more worried about it if she did not remember the exact words she had uttered and knew that Yelena was blowing it way out of proportion.

  “I said you were all grown-up and not that same cute little girl anymore.”

  “SEE!!!” Yelena proclaimed accusingly, pointing her finger at Natasha, and Natasha just grinned in reply, feeling the urge to reach out and grab Yelena’s adorable chubby face that was shoved near Natasha’s own as she glared at her with that typical challenging expression.

  “I also said you’re very pretty now,” Natasha added, and Yelena just sniffed with indignation as she looked away from the redhead.

  “She doesn’t think I’m cute anymore,” Yelena announced to the room, her arms crossed, and Natasha just huffed a bit with laughter. Melina shook her head, choosing to avoid getting involved in this drama. However, judging by the barest hints of a smile on her face, she was enjoying the exchange.

  “I meant you’re just not a little girl anymore,” Natasha explained, feeling a bit of laughter bubbling up. Yelena narrowed her eyes.

   “Well, if I’m cuter as a little girl, I’ll behave like one then,” Yelena proclaimed before suddenly sitting on Natasha’s lap. Natasha huffed but wrapped her arms around Yelena’s waist to keep her in place.

  “You already behave like one. Look at the fit you just threw,” Natasha pointed out, and Yelena just leaned back so that she was squishing her shoulder against Natasha’s face in defiance. Natasha turned her head to the side, chuckling with a wide grin as she held onto the blonde.

  Natasha was beginning to think that Yelena just wanted an excuse to sit on her lap.

   ……………………………………………………………………………………………

      Natasha’s theory was fully confirmed when they were sleepily watching a movie, and Natasha’s eyelids were growing heavy. Yelena was right by her side, and her sister’s warmth was starting to lull her out of consciousness.

  In fact, Natasha was almost asleep when she suddenly felt a weight starting to move into her lap.

  She was dangerously close to opening her eyes in the midst of her somewhat confused and disoriented state, but she kept them shut as she waited to see what Yelena would do.

  To her surprise, Yelena wiggled her way very carefully into her lap, curling herself into a ball as she rested her head on Natasha’s shoulder in the crook of her neck. Natasha’s heart immediately melted with the girl’s touch and the love that she was obviously too worried to show while Natasha was conscious or seemed to be.

  Natasha waited a few moments longer before snaking her arms up and around Yelena. Yelena stiffened a tiny bit, frozen and almost seeming as if she were waiting on something. Natasha hummed under her breath with contentment, pressing a small kiss to Yelena’s head.

  “Mmm… Y’know, if you wanted to sit on my lap, you could’ve just done it a while ago,” Natasha informed her easily, her voice rough with sleep. She felt Yelena immediately loosen up in response to that and the blonde’s arms wrapped more tightly around Natasha as she nuzzled into the redhead’s neck.

  “You said I was not the same little girl, and we did this kind of thing when we were small,” Yelena replied in a mumble, and Natasha could feel the uncertainty coming off of her in waves. Natasha shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips.

  “Little one, you’ll never be too big to sit in my lap,”

  “I’m bigger than you,” Yelena informed her, and for once it was not even in her typical condescending, smug tone that she always took when the topic of their height was brought up. It had a significant undertone of insecurity and slight shame.

  “By one inch,” Natasha quickly replied, and Yelena chuckled a small bit before quickly falling silent.

  “Besides. I thought you said you didn’t mind touching in public.”

  “I don’t. I just worried that you would not want me sitting on you like a baby,” Yelena informed her, her accent growing thicker, and Natasha was almost sure that she was about to transition fully to Russian. It was something that the blonde always did when she was feeling insecure or was uncomfortable with something she had to say. However, the fact that they were alone must have contributed to the reason she remained speaking English.

  “I always want you close. I haven’t been able to hold you like this for over twenty years. I don’t care how old you are. I want you close to me and you don’t have to have an excuse for it,” Natasha informed her, and she could hear the small sniffle that sounded off somewhere near her neck. She could also feel the slight wetness against her skin.

  “Ya lyublyu tebya bol'she vsego ili kogo-libo,” Natasha admitted to her, and she could feel the smile pulling at Yelena’s lips. Natasha knew what it meant to the girl. It was something that Natasha herself had wanted to hear from someone for so long after she was able to escape the Red Room.

  “Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu.”

[thekingofwinterblog]

Getter Robo Retospective - Getter Robo Part 1 -Ryoma Nagare

So, Iv’e been wanting to do an overall retrospective of the Getter Robo manga franchise for a while now, and since the Getter Robo Arc is nearing it’s finale as of the time of this writing, and will either give it a definite ending, or be the final nail in the coffin that the series will never be finished before Getter Robo falls into public domain, I thought now might as well be the time to do it.

As such, I’ll be doing an overall analysis over the entire collection of Ken Ishikawa’s Getter Robo manga series, it’s plots, themes, characters, and covers the various ideas this crazy and amazing sci-fi series covers.

Also, this retrospective will NOT cover the various anime adaptations, or the behind the scenes stuff that has gone on with Getter Robo over the years, such as Go Nagai being credited as the writer of the original manga despite only having come up with the overall concept and designs for it(the rest was by Ken Ishikawa), or the way that Ken went back and added in some extra chapters in the original two manga to explain some things and to tie the early manga more closely into what came after.

For the purposes of this retorspective, I will be focusing exclusively on the manga itself, and what it has to offer, without going into anything else.

And of course there is no place better to start, than the beginning.

So, what is the story of the original Getter Robo Manga?

Well, the overall plot of the original manga is about the conflict between two sides of a conflict, as laid out rather well in it’s prologue chapter.

The first is our protagonists, the Saotome Institute of Japan, who’s leader and namesake has invented the titular giant mecha, the Getter Robo.

Powered by a revolutionary newly discovered form of energy called “Getter Energy”, this enormous metal behemoth is a fighting machine unlike any other.

This war machine was originally supposed to be used for space exploration, but due to necessity, it has instead been reworked into a fighting machine.

It’s only weakness is that it requires 3 different living pilots to operate it to draw upon its full strength.

Opposing the Saotome Institute, is the forces of the Dinosaur Empire

An empire of humanoid Sentient Dinosaurs that long ago was forced to flee the Earth’s surface after it was bombarded with a strange kind of energy from space that was deadly to their kind, their only way to survive being to use their incredible technology to hide on the only place on Earth where the rays couldn’t reach them. The Earth’s very core.

Now, after millions of years underground, and the rays that forced them beneath the earth to begin with having seemingly ceased, they have finally returned to reclaim the earth’s surface for their own. At it’s disposal, it has incredible technology, and giant cyborg dinosaur monster in it’s quest to wipe out the newcomers, the human race, to achieve total dominance over the Earth.

If you think this premise sounds very generic, and you’ve seen it in some form or another in countless other Mecha series, you are not wrong. Ancient evil group attacking the protagonists, and only the new giant robot can stop it, probably the biggest stock plot in mecha overall, having been done in everything from Neon Genesis Evangelion to Megas XLR in some form or another. The set pieces and details are different, but the overall plot is the same.

However, where Getter Robo fits into this, is that it was one of the first giant robot manga there was, and many, many of the tropes and ideas it pioneered would be used and imitated by its successors.

In fact, I would argue that Getter is the second most influential mecha series in history, only second after it’s big cousin, Mazinger Z.

However, we are not here to detail how it influenced the manga industry, but how Getter holds up on it’s own, and in this regard, despite having a plot that has been overused time, and time again by it’s successors, this isn’t really that much of a problem for Getter Robo. Because like any good Mecha series, Getter’s biggest strength is it’s cast of characters.

Starting off in chapter 1, we are introduced to the first of the Robot’s giant pilots.

Ryoma Nagare.

Each of the pilots of Getter Robo is given an introductory mini-arc to set them up, and Ryoma’s is easily the best of the 3.

We are introduced to the main character of most of the franchise at a very unusual spot to open a main character, especially for a Shonen protagonist.

At the end of a revenge story.

To put it bluntly, Ryoma does not start off this series as a particularly likeable, nor good person, as his introductory scene is him crashing a perfectly legal martial arts tournament and beating the everloving shit out of it’s referee, it’s participants, and the judges who arranged it.

His reasons for doing all of this?

Revenge for his old man.

As it turns out, Ryoma had a massive beef with the arrangers for this contest, as his father, Ichigan Nagare was a pro karate champion back in the day, whose reputation was purposely destroyed by those arrangers.

Now he’s come to take revenge by utterly crushing their disciples on national television, to hammer in the point that his father’s martial arts was superior to theirs for all the world to see.

During this whole thing, we also get a very good look into how Ryoma thinks at this point in time.

When the arranger tries to appeal to the “Sacredness” of the Sport to get him to stand down, Ryoma laughs in his face, proclaiming that there is nothing sacred about combat at all. The only thing that matters is who emerges as the victor.

This is backed up by how he doesn’t show the least bit of compassion or honor to the first of the contestants he defeats, easily smashing him to the ground then gloating over him after having demonstrated the sheer difference in the combat prowess between the two of them.

He is very blunt about the fact that he believes that one should pursue strength for strenght’s sake alone, and never stop until you have crushed anyone who stands before you. Always train to get stronger, and always seek out those who can challenge you and beat them too.

Might makes right.

This is a REALLY good introduction for showcasing Ryoma as a character. How he thinks, his immense near superhuman strength, his ruthlessness, his pride in his own strength.

It also ties in directly into the themes of this series, as this kind of thinking is essentially Evolution itself boiled down to it’s bare core. The survival of the strongest. What is the point of Evolution after all, if not this? Those with the traits to survive and thrive will do so, while those who cannot, will be crushed by those who can, who in turn will pass down what made them successful to begin with.

Of course that is not what the actual message of this series is, but it is a concept that this series is rather blunt about, and it’s not a coincidence that the most prominent of all the main characters of this series began his journey while believing wholeheartedly into that ideal.

All in all this scene is just great, and it sets up Ryoma really well, as well as making it clear that this is a boy who has a lot of growing to do as a person.

And so, having achieved his life’s work that he’s trained for for years and years, Ryoma nagare quietly leaves the arena, leaving behind a dozen bruised, battered and broken men on the ground.

Of course this display of power has not gone unnoticed, as in the audience were two men from the Saotome Institute who came here hoping to find someone strong enough to pilot their giant robot.

As it happened, they just found one that fit the bill rather spectacularly.

Then in the next scene we are showcased Ryoma’s home.

Ryoma Nagare, a fighting genius that at the tender age of 16-17 smashed the greatest karate practitioners in Japan with ease while being outnumbered a dozen to one, lives in a ramshackle part of town, in a rundown old building that has broken windows, a leaking roof, and can at best be called a ramshackle cottage.

It’s a rather brutal contrast to the sight of the prestigious, well made and maintained karate tournament building we were just in.

Inside we find the sight of something else rather unusual for a Shonen protagonist. Having now achieved his goals, and avenged his father’s memory, Ryoma is slowly starting to come to the realization that this has all been one giant waste of time. He hasn’t actually earned anything on this journey. His father is dead, he’s still poor, and his only belongings is this shitty building and the clothes on his back.

As we learn here, Ryoma has spent his entire life being trained in martial arts, to insane degrees even for an adult man, much less for a child. All for the purpose of one day doing what he did today, and avenging his father’s memory.

This scene really hammers in the fact that for all his ridiculous strength, Ryoma is a child, and he has a child’s way of looking at things.

He thinks back fondly on being pitted against stray dogs in death matches, and he reveals here that in his mind, this was all about “Redeeming” martial arts somehow, as if this display would really change anything in the grand scheme of things within the sport.

It wasn’t of course. This was all about revenge. Everything Ryoma ever trained for was for this moment, this moment of what should have been absolute and total triumph as he achieved a truly spectacular victory and proved his father’s fighting style the best in all the land and he has proven that he himself is the strongest fighter in all Japan.

Instead he is coming to the realization that so many people that wasted their lives on vengeance have come to over the years. That it was all a giant waste of time.

Revenge is a suckers game.

Having achieved his goals, Ryoma has found them to be completely empty, and has nowhere to go. This is a really fascinating way to open up a character arc, as usually a character that learns the lesson that David Xanatos knew so well, happens either at the end, or somewhere later down their line. Ryoma however, learns it in the very first chapter, and now has to find something else to live for.

However, his soul searching is then interrupted by a few gentlemen from the Saotome institute.

Who immediately tries to kill him.

Now before I discuss the next part, I wanna praise this overall scene, because it really works great within the context of this chapter.

Ryoma has been introduced as a massive asshole, who firmly believes in the mantra of Might makes right, and he doesn’t feel any regret at having brutalized a dozen of innocent people, just the fact that he realizes that there was no real satisfaction to be had from it. Now the other shoe drops, and HE is attacked in his own home, completely unprovoked for reasons that frankly he has no personal involvement in on his own side. While this attack does have an in universe reason behind it, it main purpose is that it serves as a nice cathartic moment for the reader, as while he’s never going to legally punished for what just happened at the tournament, he is punished by the narrative for his actions, which is something i’ve seen far, far too many stories do over the years fail to do with asshole protagonists.

It also serves to put Ryoma’s current belief in Might Makes Right to the test. After all, aren’t these men doing exactly what he said that those who practice martial arts should do? Seek out those stronger than them, then crush them.

All of this makes it a shame that it is horribly undercut by the one, genuine stain on the original manga. Namely that one of the attackers is this guy.

And it’s at this moment you realise, oh yeah, this was made in 1970’s Japan. The unfortunate fact is that Mangaka of this period generally based their depiction of black people on early American comics(Which had plenty of this kind of artwork), and Ken Ishikawa was unfortunately not an exception to this rule.

He would THANKFULLY not repeat anything like this later down the line(his depiction of black people is far more natural and realistic in later manga), but hot damn is it both uncomfortable and distracting to read the pages with this guy. And it’s a real shame too, because frankly, not only is the following fight scene very good as a narrative punishment for Ryoma, but it’s just a good fight scene in general.

Unlike the Tournament fight, which was mainly a beatdown to establish Ryoma’s ridiculous strength, this is an actual fight, which showcases Ishikawa’s ability to draw energetic, exciting fight scenes where action flows very naturally.

It also shows that for the kind of ridiculous strength Ryoma possess, he isn’t some superhuman, as early in the brawls he’s heavily wounded by the rather mundanity of taking a throwing knife to the shoulder. This is in general something that makes action if Getter Robo stand out from other shonen series too. When characters, or Robots for that matter, takes hits, they rarely shrug them off with no problem, instead taking real, genuine damage that doesn't just instantly go away. They might power through them, but that isn’t the same as them disappearing into the ether.

In any case, the battle ends up outside the house when Ryoma is thrown through the wall.

He’s then forced to do the classic, catch the blade between the palms of his hands trope, which is depicted much more believable than most cases I’ve seen, as despite succeeding, it still left him bleeding from those palms.

Ryoma then redirects the blade into the big guy who is attacking him from behind, killing him. I really love how the artwork sells that this is a desperate move on Ryoma’s part. He is genuinely fighting for his life here, and he’s pulling out every trick he has to to win despite his wounds.

He then follows that up by ripping the blade out, and throwing it at the knife thrower guy. I also like that after doing so, he immediately falls flat on his ass, in a rather realistic manner(he is fighting in the rain after all, so the ground is undoubtedly pretty slippery.), while also showcasing the force of the throw. My only main complaint is that for this one panel Ken forgot to include the wound and the knife on his shoulder, as I think it would really sell just how desperate Ryoma is here if we’re visually reminded in the moment that, oh yeah, he’s powering through and using the arm whose shoulder has a knife in it to to throw this thing.

Thankfully, that missed opportunity for visual grittiness is more than made up for by the next part.

Having now effectively won the battle(I think the swordsman broke his foot in the fall, at least that’s how it looks), Ryoma suddenly realises that, holy shit, he just killed someone. The contrast between here and how he looked as he challenged the tournament fighters couldn’t be more different. The cooky, arrogant youth is completely gone, and you're reminded that Ryoma is just a kid. A kid who just had to kill someone. The bravado is completely gone, leaving only a kid who is tired, confused, in pain, and probably pretty scared.

He is then approached by the man who just had 3 grown ass men jump and attack him, Dr. Saotome.

Wounded, and mentally exchausted as he is, he is in no position to argue as Saotome declares that Ryoma is what he’s been looking for, and as one of his men rips the knife out of his shoulder, Ryoma screams before losing consciousness from the pain. Afterwards he is dragged into a car, and bandaged up.

Then as they're driving, the’re attacked by a giant flying dinosaur that grabs unto the car and flies away with it, Ryoma and Saotome barely managing to get out in time, alongside one of Saotome’s unlucky goons who breaks his neck in the fall.

And so ends Chapter one of Getter Robo.

All in all, other than the horribly racist black guy, this is a really good first chapter, that sets up Ryoma Nagare really, really well, showcasing his way of thinking, his origin, and where he needs to grow, while also showcasing his ludicrous strength, and that he is fully capable of going balls to the wall to win a fight, which will be showcased many, many times in this series. It also ends on a reminder of the fact that oh yeah, this is a series about one side vs dinosaurs, as Ryoma gets his first introduction into the enemy he will be fighting time, and again in this manga. It also gives a distinct first impression of just how ruthless Saotome is, as he is perfectly willing to send 3 dangerous goons on a teenager just to test his prowess in battle, which is absolutely going to come into play in future chapters.

All in all, it’s a good start. Not an amazing beginning, but certainly a good introduction to our first main character.

[captainsimagines]

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Four

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 4 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. All trigger warnings will be listed before the chapter. This is purely fanfiction.

Warnings in this Chapter: reference to past sexual assault (very minimal); misogyny/sexism; mention of Infinity War deaths/Endgame deaths; abusive parental relationship; canon violence; heavy drinking; reference to cocaine use

Word Count: 13,900+

~

Tony’s Cabin, 2023, 8:56pm

      “Uh…”

You and Steve stared at the little girl in front of you, bouncing up and down with excitement as she held up one of Tony’s repulsors, the safety on but pointed right at the two of you. Steve instinctively pushed you behind him, the obvious fact being that a blast would most certainly kill you and not the super soldier himself. You were having difficulty holding in your laughter, watching as the girl kept poking at the metal, awaiting its true power. 

“Can I have that, Morgan?” Steve asked, his voice raising ever so slightly to try and seem nicer to the kid. 

“Talk to her with your regular voice, Steve. She’s five, not a toddler.”

“Yeah!”

Now you laughed at Morgan’s declaration of approval, still standing behind Steve with your hands braced on his back. 

Steve sighed and rolled his eyes playfully, “Alright, Morgan. Can I please have that back? It’s not a toy.”

“But daddy left it for me!”

You smiled at her, “Yeah, but he didn’t expect you to use it so early! Wait until you’re like… ten, then you can look through his things!”

“Y/N, ten?” Steve gave you a bewildered grin, eyes bright and laughter restrained. 

“Okay, twelve.”

His shoulders sagged with a heavy laugh. He reached over and took the chance, grabbing Morgan’s wrist softly and ejecting the glove from her small hand. 

“There we go!” you cheered, stepping out from behind Steve and scooping her up in your arms. Morgan started laughing loudly, kicking her legs to try and escape your hold. “Ah, don’t kick me!”

You had offered your time to Pepper whenever she needed it. You didn’t expect that she would call so early asking for a huge favor, her husband’s funeral not even four months ago. But you didn’t hesitate and packed an overnight bag, reassuring her that nothing would explode on your watch. On your way out of the temporary safe house, Steve had caught you just in time. A quick question of your future whereabouts and he was joining you, a tiny twinge of guilt in his chest from not seeing Tony’s daughter in so long. He was one of her godparents after all, just after Happy and Rhodey, beating out the third crowned position from Bruce. 

He had been hurt by that initially, asking why he wasn’t even considered. 

‘Bruce, the first time she comes into your room and stands over your sleeping body to let you know she had a nightmare, you’d scream.’

‘I wouldn’t be angry, just scared!’

‘Okay, after Cap here, you get custody.’

‘Oh, yay. Drafted fourth.’

Steve was happy to go see her on such short notice though, racing back up to his room to gather some overnight supplies as well. But you didn’t think anything of it - it was just a godparent wanting to see his godchild. 

“Ouch, that hurt,” you laughed and placed Morgan down in her bed. “Nighty night time.”

“Daddy said he left things for everyone, not just me.”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up with curiosity, a sudden interest to know what his gift was exciting him. He had already given him the shield back... but then Thanos broke it. Maybe, another shield? No, T’Challa had already offered to send him a new one.

“Ooo, that’s interesting! I wonder if he got me that pretty bracelet I saw in that department store window that one time,” you gushed, pulling the blankets over Morgan. You fluffed out her hair, smiled at her, and told her goodnight. 

“Night night!”

Both you and Steve called out from the doorway of her bedroom, “Night night!”

Several minutes had passed before you brought up the prospect of secret gifts again, knowing Steve was just as interested as you were. 

“Want to go find them?”

Steve immediately stood up, clapping his hands together and giddy with excitement. “I won’t tell if you don’t!”

“Deal.”

You searched everywhere - living room, the garage, kitchen cabinets - even racing into the master bedroom, stealthy and secret, shame rising as you carefully picked up items around the room. “This feels like an invasion of privacy.”

Steve chuckled from outside the door, “Hurry up!”

But you found nothing. There was only one more spot to look - his office. You almost didn’t want to intrude any longer, this being his most sacred space, but the mere chance of Tony giving you a gift from the afterlife made you extremely happy. So you and Steve searched, stacking and restacking random papers and pushing away gadgets and books in the bookshelf. Finally, a small opening in the third shelf alerted you of your mission success. 

“Oh, fuck yeah,” you cheered, reaching in and pulling boxes and clipped pieces of paper, all different colors and sizes, from the compartment. They were labeled with various names - Rhodey, Pepper, Happy, Clint, Thor, Steve, Nebula, you - and Natasha. 

Steve sucked in his breath, his gasp similar to yours. “He got these before…”

“Yeah,” you nodded, handing Steve his labeled box. It was light blue, a white ribbon delicately wrapped around it, and with a cute little red ribbon with Steve’s name on it. It wasn’t big, but it was more than enough. 

“Open it,” you said. 

Steve shook his head, “Let’s open ours together.”

You agreed to his terms, taking your folder into your hands. It was one of those same art folders you had when you bought some new planners or notebooks. It was black, custom-made it seemed, as it had your name on the front in gold, cursive writing. 

On the count of three, you both opened your presents. 

Steve pulled out two sets of dog tags from the box, the sound of them clinking together reminding him of the times he would hug his fellow soldiers on the battlefield, cheers of victory mixed in with the smell of sweat and dry blood. He read the names on the metal. 

‘Steven G. Rogers

987654320 T42 O

Brooklyn, NY. P.’

‘James B. Barnes. 

32557038 T41 42 O

R. Barnes

Shelbyville, IN. P.’

He had not known they recovered his dog tags, faintly remembering clutching them tightly as he flew the plane into the ice. But SHIELD must have kept them for the museum, and Tony had recovered them. Bucky’s, however, were lost as soon as Bucky fell from that train. They were more rusted than Steve’s, almost as if HYDRA kept them underwater or stored for the majority of Bucky’s sentence. But no matter how Tony had gotten them, he was eternally grateful. 

“Wow,” Steve said, clearing his throat. But you were too caught up in your reading. 

      ‘Target whereabouts discovered mid-May of 2017. Only T. Stark and N. Romanoff approved for mission.

      Transport at 20:00 hours. Target(s) confirmed and exterminated at exactly 0802 Pacific Standard Time.’

You choked on the sob that suddenly broke through, hand instantly reaching up to cup your mouth. Steve put his tags back into the box, shushing you to get you to calm down. “What is it? What’d he get you?”

Four pictures accompanied the short report, each face crossed out with red paint. A tiny laugh escaped and tears of joy started to flow. To say Steve was confused was an understatement. 

“He… he got me justice.”

Steve took the file from you, reading over every word to somehow understand what you meant by justice. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration and he looked up at you for more explanation.

You brushed your hair back and rubbed at your cheeks, the smile on your face now straining. Whether it was a sudden change of mind or the closure of your trauma was just that satisfying, you told Steve exactly what Tony and Natasha had done for you. 

“After I joined you guys in New York, Fury sent me on a mission to infiltrate and bring back information about this dude my father was trying to literally destroy. But I had to play both sides  - the good and the bad.”

Steve set the file down, his full attention on you.

“I got the information but for some reason, it wasn’t enough for my father. I had forgotten to get the most vital piece, something he thought I would automatically know,” you scoffed, your smile faltering at the next part of the story. 

“I cost him ten million. And to teach me a lesson, he let these men do whatever they wanted to me. Anything.”

Steve’s breath hitched as he understood what you meant. And it was no longer a mystery why you had been planning to kill him ‘again’ after everyone came back from the snap.

“I returned to the compound in such bad shape. I only told Natasha. She cleaned me up, she took me to med-bay in the middle of the night, she brought me breakfast in bed,” you chuckled at the memory, hand reaching out to hold Steve’s. 

“And Tony’s gift was murdering the men that hurt me.”

Steve let a few tears slip himself, his hand gripping yours tighter. “Y/N, if I would have known-”

“Hey, it’s okay. You didn’t know, though. I thought only Natasha knew. She promised me she would take care of it. I just didn’t think she would actually find them.”

“I think we know that Natasha could find literally anything and anyone,” Steve said. 

You agreed with his statement, a smile returning to your face. 

You jumped from your sitting position and went back to retrieve Natasha’s gift. “Hey, should we?”

Steve eyed the small, black box in your hand. He sighed as he walked over to you, eyes returning to the box. 

“It was meant for her.”

You frowned, “Yeah, and I’ll ask Pepper if we can give these to everyone else.”

You paused and shook the box near your ear. It felt heavy in your hand, and the contents gave a little jingle. 

“But this one was for Nat. I think she’d want us to at least see it.”

Steve chuckled and just nodded, awaiting the reveal. You pulled the ribbon and opened the box, surprised that Tony had given her a piece of jewelry. “Oh.”

Steve took the bracelet from the box, oblivious that the movement would unlock the charms from their heavy chests. In a matter of seconds, charms of similar size but different designs dropped to encircle the silver band. You inspected them in Steve’s hand - a red/white/and blue shield, Mjollnir, a pair of wings, two arc reactors, a singular arrow, a silver arm, a spider, an emerald heart, the letters ‘W’ and ‘V’ intertwined, a black cat, an ant - and your symbol, an intricately carved silver charm no bigger than your thumbnail, of your face. Tony knew no specific object or symbol was tied with your Avengers status, no one had ever given you one, but this was perfect. 

“Wow,” Steve whispered, examining each charm closely with a lazy smile on his face. 

“We were her family. This was an ode to that.”

“What do we do with it?” Steve asked.

You just shrugged, “Frame it? It would feel wrong just taking it for myself.”

Steve agreed. Later that night when Pepper returned home, you showed her what Morgan led you to. She let you keep your gifts and take the others, absolutely loving the idea of framing Natasha’s bracelet in the new compound being built. 

Present Day, 2025, 8:10 am

     The bright light from the open windows hadn’t hit you as suddenly as the random throw pillow that connected to your face, startling you with a quick gasp and causing you to choke on your spit. You snapped up, belly down and hair wild, eyes still half-lidded as you searched for the aggravator. And he stood there with a stupid grin on his face, already dressed in his stupid old man clothes, and stupid blond hair perfectly pushed back. 

“What the fuck was that for?” you tried to yell, voice cracking at the end and just the slightest hint of drool threatening to spill from the corner of your mouth. 

“I ordered room service. Plus, we have to leave in an hour.”

You grabbed as many pillows as your one free hand could hold, the other still tucked into the pillowcase below your head. You flung them wildly, none actually hitting the super soldier directly. His chuckle pulled a deep groan from you, and no longer wanting to look like a fool, you stumbled out of bed and pushed passed him roughly. 

“You could have woken me up the same time you got up.”

“But you looked so peaceful.”

His sarcasm was not helping your souring mood. Steve headed over to the monitors to turn them on, already setting up the morning video chat with Bucky and Sam. “Do you always sleep like a mounted spider?”

You flicked him off, “Leave me alone so I can take my morning piss in peace!”

You slammed the door and made your way to the toilet. Now, you were no morning person. But it was simple enough for you to crawl out of bed with only minimal protest when your awakening was a peaceful one. Having a pillow thrown at your head while mid-dream was practically excruciating and no one, not even the grandest morning person in the world, could possibly awake happy from that. And to top it all off, you couldn’t even remember what you were dreaming of. Just another thing to blame Steve for. 

After you had done your morning routine and slipped into a really comfy outfit, the breakfast finally arrived. You muttered a quiet thanks to Steve for ordering your favorites and damn him for knowing you preferred waffles over pancakes and a variety of creamers to choose from, and quickly filled Bucky and Sam in on what the plan for the day was. 

You had been on missions with Steve before, but no matter how many times you regrouped in the mornings, you had never actually seen him wake up. After your rude awakening, you wondered at what point during sunrise he opened his eyes - ‘cause you’ll be standing over him with a pillow of your own. 

“Torres has the air footage scheduled for around five today, then he’ll link you to the camera for the remainder of the mission,” Sam clarified. 

“Is it possible to link earlier?” Steve asked. 

“Not unless you can get the Wi-Fi password of the estate.”

You chuckled, still funneling mouthfuls of waffle into your mouth. “So, we can hack the Pentagon whenever we feel like it, but we can’t hack into my father’s estate without the Wi-Fi password?”

Sam cleared his throat, “You are so lucky this is a secure line.”

“Wait until she finishes her breakfast and her head will be screwed back on straight,” Steve joked, taking a long sip from his tea. 

Almost immediately, your phone dinged with a new message. You angled your phone away from Steve but your smirk was enough to alert him of a side conversation happening under his nose. 

Bucky: Ouch, I wouldn’t mind if you hit him upside the head.

Y/N: he threw a pillow at me to wake me up :(

Bucky: hit him

Y/N: bet

“Stop talking about me over the phone.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Steve grumbled, the rough sound catching Sam’s attention as well. His eyes flashed back and forth between the two of you - Steve desperately trying to catch a quick glance at your messages, and you leaning away from him with thumbs moving at a rapid pace. 

“Y/N, how you feeling?”

You put your phone down and pretended to not notice how Steve was trying to get a glimpse of your screen. 

“A little queasy, in all honesty.”

A myriad of emotions were present and coiling in your body, each trying to sprout and bloom and gain their five seconds of fame. And for the past several years, it was easy to downplay their true power. Because the power they held wasn’t one of distressing strength, but rather one that tip-toed to the front of your anxiety driven worries. It planted itself there, up front, but ever so silent. For it to finally meet its match, to possibly be freed of such a coil - well, you were more worried about not succeeding in its erasure than its final blooming. 

“We’ve come up with a system to make sure we both don’t go overboard or to tell the other that we’re alright,” Steve said, eyes on the monitor but hands loading bullets into your trusty handguns. 

“Alright, that’s good,” Bucky spoke, finally. He typed away on his keyboard, “Give us a word we all use in case we need back-up immediately.”

“Mm, you should ask Steve. He loves his safe words.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “Something Avengers related? Or something no one would ever say?”

“Pick anything you want, just don’t let it be awkward to repeat out loud,” Sam joked. 

Steve pondered for a few seconds before he settled on his chosen word, a hint of a smile forming. “Widow.”

You nodded, “That’s sweet. She’d like us using her alias for a dirty little safe word.”

You huffed suddenly, shoulder colliding with the carpet, the realization that Steve pushed you from your chair causing you to stare at him with your mouth hanging open. “Hey!”

“Steve, every single day I accept your fate from her murderous hands,” Bucky grumbled, Sam’s loud laugh causing the speaker to give a quick halt of static. 

“She’s okay- hey!”

You flew across your chair and onto him, lunging your body as your main weapon in taking him down. You both tumbled to the floor, the sofa chair you collided with scraping along and pushing the coffee table with it. A lamp shattered on the floor right when you wrapped your arm around Steve’s neck and hooked your legs from underneath him and around his waist, his back to your front, both his arms coming up to tug yours out of reflex. 

“Yield, you little shit,” you grunted, the grip of your arm remaining loose on purpose but your legs tight, heels now digging into his slim waist. 

Steve groaned, both from your pointy heels and the sudden impact his body made with the ground. “I’m letting you win.”

“You seriously got a mouth on you.”

You let him go anyway, choosing to save your strength for the mission and not waste it on a petty little fight. Besides, you could always smother him with a pillow in his sleep. 

“You two done?”

Both you and Steve stumbled getting up, faces back in your teammate’s view as you smoothed down your clothing and wiped at your foreheads.

“Now that that’s over,” Sam continued, clearing his throat. “The only task for today is to get a feel of the place, establish a legit backstory providing you some leverage, and to swipe those ID’s.”

“Got it,” you acknowledged, standing again to begin hooking your weapons in discreet locations in your clothing. 

“And we’re not responsible for that broken lamp so it’s coming out of your paycheck.”

     California really wasn’t like any other state. There was a vast difference from Northern and Southern, the difference being the amount of green fields visible. In Southern California, the mountains and desert areas took up most of the landscape, with an industrial complex here, a growing city there, and then nothing for a good ten miles. Since most of the landscape was below sea level, the atmosphere was almost always dry, modest dust storms forming only to quickly pass a freeway and disintegrate once it found the other side. It was more urban, more lively with people. But Northern California, even if it experienced the same weather patterns as the south, was mostly humid during the winter season. The mountains here were covered in lively agriculture, livestock roamed freely in the gated areas near the freeways, and the overall environment provided a rural look. 

 And the differences just stood out to you, your excitement for the livestock starting to annoy Steve as you kept pointing out every cow you drove past. He threatened to stop the car and dare you to tip one. 

“So, how did we meet?”

Steve chuckled, “We’re coworkers, Y/N. Thought that question was obvious.”

You whined, “Steve, we have to put some drama into it! How about we say we met during one of Tony’s parties after Fury assigned you to this?” 

“And what? I asked you to dance?”

You leaned over your seat and poked his arm, teasing him. “Would you have asked me to dance?”

Steve shrugged, “I mean, sure.” 

He glanced at you and then back to the road. “Can’t we just be honest? I like the way we met.”

 You pouted, “The way we met is a matter of national security.”

   “You brought that thing back to an unguarded planet?” Loki seethed, his voice still a whisper as he followed Thor through the hallways of Avengers Tower. A tower he had been prisoner of for a few weeks now, but would soon be released from once Thor decided to return home. Besides, it had been more than a year since his unfortunate attack and after thousands of apologies, brainwashing excuses (which were true!), and quite a few long labor hours equivalent to Midgardian community service, his leash was extended somewhat. 

“How am I the more level-headed one right now?”

Thor grumbled in response, now on his hands and knees as he searched for the tiny animal that had already eaten its way through the plush of the interior walls. “It couldn’t have gotten far. And how was I supposed to know the oxygen levels here would cause it to go crazy?”

“You couldn’t. In fact, I don’t know why it’s here in the first place!”

“Keep screaming, Loki. I bet that would make it come to us quicker!”

Loki was about to come up with another quick quip, but was interrupted by a quiet mumble down the hall. 

“Oh?”

You rocked back and forth on your heels as you stared at the two brothers - one sweeping the floor on all fours and the other ducked down to scream into his brother’s ear. “Whatcha looking for?”

“Now, don’t be alarmed, Agent. But I may have misplaced my dog.”

“Dog?” Loki tilted his head, hands now cupping the side of his head in disbelief. 

Your eyebrows shot up from his reaction, “Not dog?”

“It’s… an animal from Asgard.”

“Okay, what does it look like?” you asked, now more interested than ever. 

Thor cleared his throat and rose to his feet slowly, “Like a dragon.”

You stepped back, almost tripping over your left foot. An involuntary laugh escaped from your lips and you brought a hand up to try and stifle it. “You brought a dragon into the tower?”

“He brought a dragon back to Midgard,” Loki clarified as he walked over to the wall and pressed his ear against it. 

“Oh, yeah. That’s much worse,” you agreed. “Fury’s gonna shove his foot so far up your ass-”

“Yes, yes. I know what awaits me. Now, help us find it!” Thor begged. 

This wasn’t how you expected to spend your first day as an Avenger. After all the training and promoting, the paperwork and oaths, you thought you would have a pretty chill afternoon. Arrive at the conference room, get the name badge and a rundown of your new field suit, and meet the rest of the team. Freshly nineteen and energetic as ever, you accepted this as a test. Find the dragon, make a good impression. 

It only took a few more minutes before you three stumbled on an otherwise empty hallway, staring down the colorful creature as it licked one of its paws. 

Your eyes widened, “It looks like an alebrije.”

“You have these creatures on your planet?” Loki asked, surprise written over his face. 

“Nope, alebrije’s aren’t real. They’re fantasy.”

“Nevermind that, help me catch it!”

Loki began shushing his brother, hands swatting his massive shoulders in the process. You leaned down to the floor and tapped it with your fingernails, hoping the nice gesture would cause the creature to meet you halfway. 

“Hey, buddy,” you cooed. “Can you come here please?”

The creature raised its head, colorful eyes on full display. Similar to rings of fire, but face like a fox, and fur as soft as silk. It titled its head, interested for only a second, before it kicked back and rushed toward the three of you at full speed. 

“Oh, shit-!”

As he was the closest, Loki pushed Thor to the wall and lifted you from the ground. But before he could throw you out of the way too, the creature leaped. Loki shielded you with his body, wrapping his arms around you and picking you up as the creature kicked his back and sent the two of you flying through wall after wall. Loki was taking the force of it all, his chest angled in a way to protect your head. It was about ten walls you two flew through before you landed in what seemed like conference room B… or C… or A. Loki rolled you over and groaned in pain. You landed on your back, bright lights blinding you as you tried to adjust. Then a figure came into view as your blurry vision cleared. 

You blinked rapidly and stared up at your new Captain. You smiled, a bit delirious, and raised your hand up for a handshake. 

“Y/N Y/L/N, new recruit!”

Steve just stared, eyebrows scrunched, an expression resembling a scowl and bewilderment painted on his face. He took your hand in his and shook it. 

“Forgive us, Captain,” Loki spoke, coughing as he turned over. “But you might want to get that shield of yours.”

    “When did we become a couple?” you continued once you agreed on the ‘party meet-and-greet’ as your previous answer. 

Now, this was a question Steve was wondering about since before you mentioned the necessity of such answers. Although he didn’t fantasize about being your significant other, he did wonder what possible event could jumpstart it. If anything, and he would take this to the grave, he assumed a line would be crossed during a particularly tempting mission. Bucky had admitted to him that on one mission, and Steve promised to take this to the grave as well, Bucky had to kiss Wanda to keep their cover. The feelings subsided soon after the mission was over, but Bucky confessed to real feelings developing. So if Steve had to bet, a particularly tempting mission. 

“When we were searching for Bucky?”

You nodded, “That works. We can say the fall of SHIELD basically led to us to realize how weak the system was and how we could easily manipulate it.”

The road veered off to the side, now dirt and unevenly layered. You checked the directions Torres gave you just to make sure. 

“And when is my birthday?”

You didn’t expect Steve to answer so quickly, and to get it right. Perhaps he looked over your file and remembered, because you were certain only your little friend group knew it. It was Bucky, it had to be him, the little shit, he told- 

“Surprised?”

“A little. How do you know it?”

“Nat. Who do you think sends you those chocolates every year?”

You were overjoyed, really. “Wha-? Natasha said she did it.”

Steve smirked, “She covered for me.”

“Why?”

“Because for five years after the snap, you and Nat did nothing for yourselves and did everything for everyone else.” He had been witness to the two of you pulling all-nighters, washing the sheets of your fallen teammates as if they were going to return that weekend, celebrating their birthdays in secret with a small candle and a prayer. Moving from the compound and into his own apartment was hard enough, but seeing his remaining teammates wallow in cursed self-determination was worse. So, he asked Nat about your birthday to send you chocolates and a lovely handwritten note, careful to write in a font different from his natural one, and he would fold tiny paper airplanes and leave them around the compound where only Nat could find them, providing her a sense of playfulness in her busy day. Little joys to make up for such an impact.  

“If it makes you feel better, I sent gifts to Nat and Bruce, too.”

But because Bruce had no forwarding address at the time, Steve settled for quick text messages here and there. 

“And here I was thinking I was special.”

Steve laughed at your statement. He reached into the middle compartment to grab the mics you would be wearing. “By the way, make sure to hide this behind your neck. My mic will blend in as a button.”

You inspected the flat, button-like mic, awed by how intricate their design was. “They connected to Bucky’s?”

Steve clipped his onto his shoulder, the camouflage effect throwing you off. Yup, you loved science. “Yeah, they record everything and immediately send it back already transcribed.”

You unfolded the sun visor and watched how the mic picked up the color of your skin and blended naturally. “Remind me to send T’Challa and Shuri a gift basket.”

“And more.”

The estate was exactly how you remembered it. Modern and simple all at once, a brown exterior to easily blend into the surrounding forest, and massive front gate that only opened with a specific code. You leaned out the window and typed it in. There was no speaker this time, probably evidence of newly installed cameras. 

“It’s beautiful,” Steve muttered, pulling into the long driveway and following the brick road. 

It truly was. Even from where you were, you could see into the mansion as the walls were all practically made from glass. The walls in the back were normal, however, as that’s where most of the business was conducted. There were no swing doors, only large and heavy double doors made from cooled lava rock. And even though your father was a very organized man, the house was littered in trinkets of all origins: professionally stuffed exotic animals, roman and oriental statues, porcelain eggs, multiple pianos, and first editions of some of the most popular books in the world. There wasn’t any set theme for this house, but it was screaming ‘money’. 

Steve parked the car away from the others, careful to leave enough room around it to ensure an easy escape if needed.

“Remember what I said - play the part. Leave the smart mouth to me, they know me. It’s what they’ve come to expect.”

Steve clicked his seatbelt and sighed heavily, “I apologize in advance.”

You gave him a small smile, “Nothing to apologize for, Steve. Like I said, this is a mission. Don’t stress about it.”

He shook his head, “Still.”

The sincere look in his eyes sent a tingle down your arms. You cleared your throat, “I feel dirty saying this, but know your place. You may be a Captain but you’re not manning this boat.”

For some reason Steve felt that he truly needed to apologize in advance. For the past several years, it wasn’t entirely real to him. He had not been directly involved. But now that he was here, parked and staring at you - the one person who had a first hand account of the horrors inside - he needed to make sure you understood he would never actually hurt you, or you him. “I trust you.”

You removed your seatbelt and opened the door, “I trust you, too.”

It was windy today, the ruffles from the trees almost disguising the labor coming from the back. You assumed they were still building the reception area. Steve jogged over to your side and hooked your arm in his, his body tenser than yours. Someone opened the heavy doors, immediately swallowing the oxygen for miles with merely their presence. You couldn’t help yourself from a small grimace, lips spreading into a straight line as you forced any other expression besides hatred. 

Seda, standing at barely six foot and a smug look plastered on his aging face that worried even Steve. This was the man that had shot you when he was on the run - the man that would most likely do it again. 

Seda quickly stepped down the stairs, “Y/N, so lovely to see you again!”

You let go of Steve to walk ahead, arms extended to match the idea of a grand entrance. “Really? Because the last time we saw each other, you shot me in the gut.”

Steve swore he saw Seda’s upper lip twitch. “You hold too many grudges. I was just following your father’s orders.”

You rolled your eyes and finally came to a stop in front of him, arms crossed over your chest. “Obviously.”

“And I’ve finally got the chance to meet Captain America! You’re much larger in person.”

No matter the acting skills one must obtain for this line of work, it was still obvious Seda was speaking through clenched teeth. He scanned Steve up and down, somewhat intimidated.

It was such a sudden shift, one you obviously knew was coming, but the deepness of Steve’s voice still caused unnatural goosebumps to rise. “I get that a lot. Helps in this business, though.”

Seda let out a low chuckle, “I would think so.” He turned and instructed the two men who had followed him out to reopen the heavy doors.  “This way.”

Steve tried not to gawk at the amount of decorations and old-timey artifacts he swore should belong in a museum. So much furniture, so much history that shouldn’t mix but somehow worked. And was that… was that a stuffed polar bear?

“So, how you doing, Seda? Besides the usual,” you asked, hooking your arm back with Steve’s. 

Seda walked with his head held high, only tilting his head downward when giving a silent greeting to those who walked by. You tried to memorize faces or see if there was anyone you recognized. But your father barely kept the same team for more than a few years. They either left voluntarily and luckily, or were simply never heard from again. 

“Excited for the wedding. Jackeline has been running around nonstop on her finishing touches,” Seda responded. 

You huffed out a laugh, “I bet she has. She used to have a scrapbook that outlined six different wedding themes.”

“And I haven’t seen the end of it.”

Only a few more twists and turns and you were finally near the familiar hallway that housed your father’s darkest work. The interior design was purposeful, no windows and no cameras. Steve unhooked your arms, opting for a more formal presentation between the two of you. Seda was difficult to please, but your father was near impossible. Better to not have his hands all over his daughter during their first meeting.  

“Hey, what’s the wi-fi password? I’m expecting a few important emails today,” you asked before Seda opened your father’s office door. Steve had to restrain himself from blessing the ground you walked on. Bless you for remembering. 

“‘Guadalajara’.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, sending the password to Torres as quickly as you could. 

It wasn’t the grand entrance you expected, truly, but you didn’t expect to see your father simply chilling behind his desk signing a few papers. He usually paced, was in a random meeting, or on the phone. Here, he was just… strangely normal. 

He looked up, eyes locking with yours for the first time in seven years. “Now, I haven’t seen you since your little weekend trip to Jalisco!”

Yeah, since you had me shot. 

Stepping into the office, the smell of cigars was heavy. Musty and daring, enveloping you like the times it did before. But now you had Steve - sweet Steve whose warmth you could feel behind you. 

You shrugged, “I’m not traveling much outside the country these days. Too much shit going on.”

Your father stood up and let out a dry laugh, “No lie about that. Seda was telling me how loose the borders were when half the world croaked.”

“Emigration was common, yup.”

He smiled at you, walking over and placing his hands on your shoulders. You did your best not to tense your muscles. “I wish I could have been there. You guys made millions those five years.”

You swore you heard Seda scoff near the corner of the room. 

“It’s about time we met! Ernesto Vega,” your father introduced himself, holding out his hand for Steve to take. 

It was instant, the change, and you found yourself pushed softly to the side as Steve stepped forward. “Steve Rogers, sir. It’s an honor to meet you.”

Your father was practically beaming, “Y/N isn’t giving you a hard time with all the business, aye?”

Steve chuckled, “None at all. She steps back when asked.”

Okay, maybe he was a better actor than you took him for. 

“I can’t believe you even have to ask,” your father hummed, glancing back at you with a disapproving look. 

Steve shrugged, “More like ‘ordered.’”

It was scary how easily Steve was making your father laugh. “So, she listens to you? I wonder what that’s like.”

You interrupted, scoffing quietly. “I have literally done everything you’ve asked.”

And without glancing at you this time, your father quipped. “Everything but learn how not to complain.” 

You rolled your eyes and met Seda’s stare. He always enjoyed the torment your father caused you. When he ordered you do something sketchy and you objected, Seda always had a front row seat to the slaps and harsh language spit in your face. He had a way of bringing up the abuse in almost every conversation he held with you - like it gave him some form of sick satisfaction.

“Regardless of my daughter’s inability to listen, I was still surprised when she named you as her partner.”

“The whole hero game was getting boring. I needed excitement.”

Your father agreed, “Don’t we all?” 

Before he continued, he squinted his eyes at Steve and scanned him once more. Almost like he was double checking his initial choice. 

“And you’re fine with breaking the laws of the country you’re the mascot for?”

“America has changed over the last hundred years. Trust me, I should know.”

Steve was answering exactly how you two practiced. You couldn’t help the small tinge of pride that it ignited. 

“Oh, I can’t believe you’re older than me. I mean, look at you.”

“The positives and negatives of being America’s science experiment, sir.”

“But here you are now. Working for me.” Your father stepped back to sit behind his desk again. “I’m very happy.”

“Likewise, sir,” Steve replied as he shuffled closer to you, trying to not seem so suspicious. Last time Steve wanted to crawl out of his own skin was when he was barely being introduced to the new world. Times Square really was a concrete jungle, his and Bucky’s old apartment building had been demolished in the fifties, and inflation… don’t get him started on inflation.  

“I’d like you to meet my two friends.” Your eyes widened. No, you weren’t supposed to meet them today. You hadn’t planned for this. 

“Friends and competition alike.”

You tried to keep your voice steady, “Shouldn’t you warm them up before you invite them in? They’re gonna take one look at Steve and freak.”

Your father motioned for Seda to open the door. “Then prepare your speech quickly.”

Before you or Steve could come up with a game plan, your father called out to the new arrivals. “Amigos! Me gustaría presentarles al hombre detrás de toda mi operación.”

The men summoned were completely different from the last time you saw them. Given you saw Ramirez long before the snap and White even before then, change was destined. Ramirez was skinnier, no more protruding stomach, wrinkles almost nonexistent and eyes lively. He hadn’t disappeared with half the world, but one of his daughters did - so getting her back definitely helped his overall health. White, on the other hand, aged overnight. His hair was now gray, eyelids sullen but eyes wide, and his nose was tilted awkwardly, like a surgery to counteract the powder he sniffed. You couldn’t remember if he was dusted or not.

“Tienes que agradecer a mi hija por esto.”

He did not just give you credit for this. 

“No fucking way?” Ramirez spoke, almost like he was out of breath. 

Curse your father for not preparing these two. You quickly reminded yourself where your gun was hidden in case things got out of hand. 

White stepped forward, circling you and Steve as if you were displayed in a museum. “Do we each get our own Avenger?”

“Maybe in the future. But this one’s mine.”

“I’m an Avenger, too. But okay,” you mumbled, offended by his singular statement. Steve’s lip twitched slightly but the look he threw at you let you know he wanted to smile. 

“¿Cómo lo hiciste?”

“Ya sabes cómo es... La gente simplemente sigue mi ejemplo.”

You decided to speak, anything to get White to stop inspecting you like some ancient artifact. “Steve green lights the routes and passages. He’s been a main player all along.”

White squinted at you, “And how long has this been going on?”

“For almost ten years,” you answered. 

White shook his head in surprise, eyes wider than you thought possible. His accent was more slurred than you remembered. “And you’re telling us now because-?”

Your father cut in, “The world is still in ruins. If we combine our forces like we discussed before that unfortunate disappearing act, we’ll be unstoppable.”

This seemed to catch Ramirez off guard, as if he truly didn’t remember the conversation your father brought up. You shoveled his reaction deep into your memory. Maribel would have to look into it.

Still, Ramirez played along. “And you’ll be loyal to us, too? Not just Ernesto?”

Steve nodded, his posture straightening. “I would.”

Now, the two new arrivals looked at you. You raised an eyebrow. 

“Don’t look at me. I do what he says,” you admitted, nodding your head toward Steve.

They seemed to accept that answer. 

“And he’s here to help us move the shipment this Saturday?” White asked.

“That’s the plan,” your father confirmed.

It was time for Ramirez to circle you both. But he did so more casually and without the intent of kicking you in the shins, it seemed. He went to sit on the couch nearest the door, away from the crowd. You could sense Steve tensing up, so you turned your body slightly to the side so you could see Ramirez through your peripheral.

“How do we know we can trust him? What those stars and stripes have to do with us?”

“You hear that Captain?” your father asked, leaning back in his chair with that twisted smile that always made your stomach drop. “Time to prove your loyalty.”

“Are you seriously going to haze him?” you spoke, a hint of a teasing tone on your words. It was time to liven up the conversation, for both your sake, or else your father was sure to go overboard. His hand… where’s Steve’s hand?

“Does she speak for you?”

Steve stepped forward, “No, she doesn’t.”

“Prove it.”

You should really punch your chest to get your heart beating again. Was he going to make Steve try the product? Record something as blackmail? Kill someone?

“Wha-” you began, but were immediately silenced as an arm wrapped around your neck and held you in place. The coldness of the gun’s muzzle tickled just below your chin, still and steady, but nonetheless terrifying. Your father had held you in this position before - hell, most of his men did when asked. But it wasn’t any of your father’s men threatening you under orders - it was Steve.  

“Obviously, I’m not going to kill her. You need her for this whole operation to work. But a little roughing up never did any bad.”

He removed his other arm but kept the muzzle under your chin, grabbing both your arms skillfully and pinning them behind your back. 

You had never seen your father so pleased. “Why are you dating my daughter?”

Steve chuckled and clicked the safety. No, no. 

You scrambled to open your right palm and squeeze what you could reach. Steve seemed to understand right away, and he loosened his grip and placed his other shaking hand into yours. You squeezed tightly. 

“Now, that’s like asking a man why he breathes air.”

No matter the position he currently had you in, you still praised his acting skills. 

“Perhaps. But I know my daughter. Why you?”

Steve kept a firm grip. “Luck?”

“It seems so. Let her go.”

He released you immediately, clicking the safety back on. Seda was in front of him before Steve could place it back on his person, grabbing the gun and emptying it. Seven rounds tumbled and scattered to the floor. This seemed to please both men, as Steve wasn’t presenting himself with an empty threat. He really could have killed you. 

“I’m assuming Y/N has told you stories about me. About my men.”

The floor beneath you was uneven, it seemed, but once your mind stopped playing tricks on you, you settled. You shot a quick glance to Ramirez, his eyes closed and hands clasped in his lap. He seemed distant.

“Only the ones worth repeating, sir.”

“Oh? And which are those?”

“Orders and the like.”

“So, you don’t know much? Nothing interesting? Nothing that could make me seem like the bad guy?”

The room grew hot, whether it was the natural air or the bubbling anger boiling in your stomach.

“Like I said, sir. I ask her what I want to know and she tells me. Other than that, it’s your call.”

The room fell silent as they debated their other questions. 

“How much do the other Avengers know?”

You were about to respond when Steve spoke instead. “Oblivious. I’m still the stars and stripes for them.”

White scoffed, “Those symbols don’t mean shit in this new world. Ridiculous of them to still assume you’re the same man.”

Steve’s jaw tensed, “Exactly right, sir.”

This seemed to be enough for your father. He stood from his chair, walking over to shake Steve’s hand again. So righteous and personal, almost like he hadn’t just ordered the assassination of an old friend a few days ago. “I like you, Captain. You’ve boosted my business, you’ve handled my daughter, you’ve made me a lot of money.” 

He looked away from Steve to look at you now, laying eyes upon a person he hadn’t bothered to reunite with in person. You had fought so hard not to be in the same room ever again, but now you were. A small little office, holding whatever air you were forced to share, on a mission that could change everything. You hated him, absolutely detested the ground he stood on, blamed him for the fallout, the change, the hurt. 

“Seda, you trust him?”

Seda opened the office door and started ushering the other two men out. “I’m getting there.”

Your father laughed, “Always so cynical.” 

Ramirez stood from his seat behind you, already gunning to make a good impression on your Captain. He shook Steve’s hand, “Until next time.”

“Sir,” Steve returned the handshake. Ramirez only adjusted slightly, and held his hand out to you. You looked down at it, momentarily stunned from any attention, but shook it in the way you were taught. Firm, short, and ready for business. You grinned at him and he returned the same emotion. 

“Two Avengers. Wow,” he mumbled, and tilted his head in a farewell. You watched him go, a silly smile on your face. 

You went to take your leave, cautious of being left alone with your father. But as fate had it, he stopped you from leaving so simply. 

“Oh, and Y/N?” 

You turned on your heel, lips plastered in a straight line. You raised your eyebrows at him, already annoyed from the request he most certainly had, no doubt. “Meet me in a few minutes. Alone.”

You forced yourself to nod, turning quickly and leaving the room. You shuffled down the hallway, Steve hot on your trail and reaching for your hand. 

“Hey, hey. I don’t want to leave you alone.”

He tugged you back to him, but you pushed him into the corner room you were originally heading for. You shut the door softly, and allowed Steve to grip your hands in his. 

“Well, you gotta. Link our mics. You’ll hear everything.”

“Safe word?”

You chuckled lowly but retracted the teasing attitude when you saw genuine worry written on Steve’s face. “Widow, Steve.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you back there. I couldn’t think of anything else to do-”

You shushed him, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s okay. You didn’t hurt me.”

“I fuck with you all the time but I would never take it that far.”

Where was this coming from? Steve looked like he was about to start hyperventilating. “I’m good. You didn’t hurt me. I’m fine, see?” you placed his hand on your chest, making sure he could feel your heartbeat. “I’m good.”

“You’re good?”

“I’m good.”

Steve removed his hand and placed it over his own chest, rubbing slightly. “I’ll be right outside when he talks to you.”

“I know you’ll be. Now, stand guard, whistle low to alert me.”

“This the room? You know the code?”

It was a simple office as well, but resembled more of a library than a workspace. It was dimly lit, cluttered, smelled of the wooden cabinets and the dust collecting on the books, and lacked any windows as well. You nodded to confirm Steve’s question, heading over to the farthest bookshelf and pushed it away from the wall. The loose dust swooped from the wood surface and into the air instantly, and you had to pause to sneeze down your shirt. 

You wiped your nose, “I’m third in command. My father may have some things hidden but I have to know the codes to shit like this.”

Steve leaned his ear on the door gently, “You’re clear.”

You gave him a thumbs up and fiddled with the outside of the safe. It was built into the wall, black in color and definitely made way before you were born. It was quite rusted, the gold numbers on the lock almost faded. 

“Let’s hope he didn’t change it.” You turned the dial - seven, thirty-three, eighteen - and it clicked on the first try. “Bingo.”

“Did you have a backup plan if that didn’t work?”

You snorted quietly, “Smash?”

Steve rolled his eyes and pressed his ear back on the door. 

Everything inside had been recently rearranged. You figured your father used some of these ID’s when entering the country for the wedding and left them stacked on one another for the quick heist on Saturday.  “We’re in luck! Both my father’s and Seda’s ID’s are here, along with-”

You cooed, taking out your phone and opening the camera app. You snapped multiple pictures, with and without flash. “Stacks and stacks of cash.”

You pulled your purse in front of you and pulled out your wallet to make room, shoving it into your back pocket instead. 

“Help me put this in my purse.”

Steve left his post to help you shovel the ID’s discreetly into every pocket your purse provided, shoving things into corners so nothing protruded. 

“Damn, we gotta leave the money,” you pouted. 

Steve chuckled, “What a horrible thing.”

A sudden, boisterous laugh right outside the door caused you to rip your arm away from the safe, thankfully pulling the last of the ID’s with you. You pushed them into your purse, zipping it up. Steve reacted quickly as well, shutting the safe and rotating the dial, pushing the bookcase back into its original position. 

“It’s Ramirez and White,” Steve whispered, looking around the room for any help. “What do we do?”

“Ramirez…” you blinked, eyes wandering around the room as well. Think, think, think. The doorknob jiggled. “Trust me.”

You ripped your purse off and threw it to the nearest couch. You hooked your arms around Steve’s neck and jumped to wrap your legs around his waist. 

“Oh my-”

In any other scenario, the whimper that left your throat would have been caused by a surge of ecstasy. But you were frightened of being caught, the whimper a blatant signal to just follow your lead. 

“Slam me into the wall, Captain.”

The door flew open just as Steve did as he was told. 

“And I told him it was ridiculous - oh my…”

You lifted your head from Steve’s neck, wide eyes to accompany your surprised state. “Oh! I thought we locked the door!”

Ramirez covered his eyes bashfully, turning around and staring at the wall. “Don’t mind us, we were just looking for loose smokes.”

Opposite to his intruding partner, White laughed at the scene before him. He dipped low, hands on his knees as he joked. “Didn’t think Captain America had it in him! Been a stiff ever since the ice, huh mate?”

You could feel Steve tense against you, and he froze entirely. You drew your hand up to play with the strands of his hair, putting on your best flirty tone possible. “Oh, trust me. He’s pretty stiff right now.”

Steve seemed to calm under your touch, so he turned his head over his shoulder and gave an embarrassed smile of his own. 

“Excuse us again, Y/N. You two enjoy your time,” Ramirez apologized, pulling at White’s jacket to guide him out of the room. Once you heard the click of the door, you jumped from Steve’s grasp and immediately began patting his back. 

“I’m sorry.”

Steve chuckled, his blush rising from his shoulders to his cheeks. “It’s okay, you saved us.”

You inspected him closely, a little embarrassed with yourself. It was a bold move, but one that needed to be done. You stood in silence for a few more seconds, each of you adjusting to such a sudden change of breathing pattern. 

You shut your eyes and groaned silently, “I need to speak with him.”

“Can I wait outside the door?”

You picked up your purse and swung it around your torso, “No, you need to wait in the car. Or smother Ramirez and White, your call.”

The lines on Steve’s forehead deepened, “Y/N, I can’t leave you alone with him.”

You wanted to argue further because Steve really over exaggerated. You fought a whole army of aliens, robots, and even the infamous Winter Soldier. Sure, you lost the battle with Thanos on the first try, you lost a teammate with Ultron, and gained a collapsed lung from Bucky’s insane roundhouse kick, but you were positive you could take your father. “You’re gonna have to. I’ve been alone with him before.”

Steve placed his hands on his hips and gave you a blank stare. “He shot you last time.”

“Ehh, Seda did.”

“Y/N.”

You laughed softly, “Then wait in the living room.”

“The shield’s in the car. If you need help, I may not have enough time-”

Steve and that goddamn shield. The guy was acting like he wasn’t a super soldier. You were annoyed. Annoyed with a pinch of salt?

“You whip that shield out to save me and I swear to god-”

“Okay, okay. I’ll link our mics.”

He fumbled around on his phone for a few seconds before you heard the softest beep from below your ear. 

     The last time you had entered that room alone, you left with a bullet lodged deep in your abdomen and with the threat of having it done again. Stumbling and crashing into the walls and random trinkets, leaving your blood stains on anything you used to steady yourself. This time would be different - it had to be. Your father wouldn’t shoot you with the Captain America waiting in the other room. Then again, your father always seemed to top himself each time you were forced to interact personally. In an instant, he dropped the good guy act. Or, hyped joy. 

Now, his stare was cold and calculated, posture upright like he was awaiting your arrival. You couldn’t help but smile and roll your eyes, a tiny scoff breaking the silence as he returned it. 

“You’re one damn good actor.” 

He chuckled deeply, “We do what we have to do in front of the people who threaten our reign.” 

You kicked the leg of a nearby chair to turn it toward you. Sitting down, you retorted with a chuckle of your own. “You’re not royalty.” 

“We are... you are.”

Third in command. Daughter of the biggest drug lord south of the border? In most cases, you could be considered goddamn royalty. Did you want to be? No, because the title that seemed to fit was ‘a chess piece in the middle of a mad supremacy’. But that was too long.  

“So, what is this? You scared my Captain is gonna knock you off your feet and take your place?” 

His hands slammed the desk. His little basket of pens and pencils toppled over and spilled onto the floor. “I have waited seven, long years for you to bring that man to me. And each time you defied me. Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you right now!” 

You remained seated, a blank stare boring into your father’s. “Uh, probably because he would avenge me. Get it?” 

He wasn’t one for jokes, though. “It would be so easy.” 

Aggravating him further was not the smartest thing to do. And Steve had the same thought as he fumbled with his own thumbs outside, hearing the conversation from afar. He almost wanted to barge in just to put your ass in time out. 

But you had seven years to make up for - a little joke here and there shouldn’t hurt much. 

“You do know I’m an Avenger, right? Trained by Natalia Romanoff herself?” 

You worded your sentence carefully, her alias need not be spoken out loud unless you needed backup. 

“Answer me.”

When his nostrils flared, you knew better than to twist the knife. 

“Steve didn’t sign the accords. He was on the run for two years before you asked me for him. This is public knowledge.”

He pointed his index finger at you, shaking it wildly. “You lie. Why you lie?”

You had to blink multiple times through your shocked state, mouth agape and involuntarily racks of laughter spilling. He couldn’t be serious. You could only repeat the same thing so many times. 

“Like I said all those years ago - He. Was. On. The. Run. No contact. I had no way of contacting him!”

He struggled to grab whatever on his desk to raise toward your face. In this case, he pointed his phone in a threatening manner. “Excuses! Remember the last time you made such a poor excuse?”

The laughing stopped, your mouth immediately shutting. You clenched your jaw to work through your murderous impulses. 

You wondered how your hands would look wrapped around his neck. Red and angry, tightening as each desperate second passes, nails forming crescents as they pressed in his skin. If there was a window, you would definitely kick him out of it. Wave goodbye as he fell dramatically. But the mansion was one story high and you couldn’t magically conjure up a window. God, this would be the absolute best time to have Wanda or Loki here to use some of that dark magic. Either way, you just wanted to wipe that shit-eating grin off his face right now. 

“He. Was on. The run.”

“And I thought you learned your lesson.”

You stood from your seat and leaned on the desk, arms holding you up and face inches away from his. “You gonna send in your men to remind me? With my Captain a few feet away?”

His lips were trembling as much as yours were - face blotchy with silver droplets of sweat and an angry blush now reaching his forehead. For a seventy-five year old man, he still had such a rage in him that didn’t risk a heart attack. Lucky bastard. 

“He best not interfere if it’s what I choose to do.”

Outside, Steve gripped the back door handle to the point it squished in on itself, metal twisting awkwardly and splintering the paint. His free hand was balled into the meanest fist, even his stubby nails wreaking havoc on his pale palm. He was making himself bleed by the restraint. He took slow breaths, eyes closed but ears fully alert. He wouldn’t cry. Not right now. 

“I called you back alone to invite you to breakfast the day after tomorrow.”

Whether it was because he knew you were only a few seconds from lunging yourself across his desk to break his neck or because he was tired from all the energy he had just exerted, your father slumped back into his seat as he spoke. 

“The hotel has free breakfast.”

He shook his head in complete astonishment, “You’re not getting out of this. I have important business to discuss with each of you.”

You continued to stare him down, “Over coffee?”

He shrugged his shoulders, “I can’t leave the estate so close to the wedding. Your sister is flying in tomorrow and I have to make sure construction is done by then.”

“Right, ‘cause you’re the best father in the world.”

Being in the same room was suffocating, but you couldn’t help but be fascinated by the man. How unbelievably thoughtless yet calculated he could be. How unbelievably fake yet so damn real in all his hidden meanings.

“Jackeline likes to think so.”

Your sister was sweet, sure, and there was an unspoken agreement between the two of you to not fight one another, being the only daughters and all. But you were eight years old when she was born, already tainted by the world in which she was just born into. Forgive your lack of sisterly bond. When you were sixteen, you dipped. Now, at the sprouting ages of twenty-six and eighteen, you two couldn’t be more different. 

Actually, yes you could. If she thought your father was a good man, she was entirely ignorant of the world she lives in. 

“Good for her. Why don’t we discuss the shipment transport during the most important day of her life?”

“Nice try. That’s what the rehearsal dinner is for - rehearsal.” 

You gave your father a sad smile, “You really won’t trust me. After all these years of following your orders.”

“Now, let’s not go bringing up the past.”

You interrupted, “Why not? You’re trusting my Captain and I to help you move that shipment but won’t trust me enough to tell me where it is right now?” 

He was back to standing but he was much calmer. “Right now, I trust your Captain more than you. What kind of man would leave everything moral behind for a bunch of criminals? A bad one.”

“You’ve known him for like, two seconds.”

Your father searched his pockets for loose cigarettes. “He left everything moral behind for me. For you. And you left me behind for everything moral.”

Rolling your eyes, you backed away from his desk and headed for the door. “Sometimes you don’t make any sense. Is that it? Are we done?”

“You accept my invitation?”

“Do I really have a choice?”

“No.” 

     The mansion seemed larger than when you entered, the hallways longer, the walls closing in, the trinkets reaching out to stop you by the wrist. The longer you stayed in this hell hole, the more likely you were probably going to unleash the rage attached to your body in the form of your favorite weapons. Bomb the hell out of this place. 

You marched to Steve’s car. He was already waiting, leaning along the passenger door like he was going to open it for you. If he did, you might kill him too. So, you repeatedly snapped your fingers at him and pointed around the car, silently but angrily motioning him to get in. He didn’t need to be told twice. In fact, he thought it might be therapeutic for you to throw the door open and slam it yourself. It was. 

Steve started the car. He didn’t need to ask, there was no reason to since he heard everything. And so did Sam. Bucky. Scott. It was being transcribed as you swerved out of the estate. God, you wanted to throw up. 

“I’ll tell you when to stop.” 

Steve choked on his breath, “Stop?” 

You rolled down the windows to breathe in the crisp cold air, teeth becoming sensitive as it passed into your lungs. “Once we get past the cameras and nearby neighborhoods.” 

“Did you need-“ 

“When I say stop, stop. Fucking damn, Steve! Listen to me for once!”

Steve didn’t know why he was challenging you. Your father had just brought up one of the most traumatic moments of your life, basically called you a hypocrite and a coward - he tried to tear you down. And here you were, holding it all together like the champ he found you to be. But he never handled your outbursts well, even if they were completely justified. 

“Don’t fucking give me orders if you won’t tell me what they’re for!”

“Stop the fucking car!”

He slammed on the breaks, instincts still kicking in during your argument and he reached his arm out to your side to hold you back from the powerful surge. His body lunged forward, however, chest hitting the steering wheel and horn. 

You scrambled out of the car and ran into the woods, feet guiding you through mud and prickly bushes until they reached a more secluded spot. Steve stumbled along after you, nearly tripping over the same rocks you had avoided masterfully. 

Before he could ask what you were doing, you pulled your gun from its hidden holster and clicked the safety. Steve’s eyes bulged out of his head just in time to see the first round sound off mid-air. He crouched down to the floor and shielded his head. You shot away from him, obviously, until all seven rounds were dislodged, aimed in the sky diagonally. 

Once the last bullet exited, you simply packed everything up. Now calm and collected, you turned around and headed back for the car.

Steve’s voice cracked as he spoke, “Seriously?”

You pushed branches away from your head as you walked, “Seriously.”

“Do you know how dangerous that is? Those bullets don’t just disappear into thin air,” Steve scolded, jogging up to speed walk beside you. 

“So fucking what? I’m keeping the rent low in this area, then.”

Steve sighed in defeat, “Talk to me.”

“Sorry, I’m shutting down.”

“Y/N-”

You groaned, tears of frustration not entirely formed, but in their beginning stages. “You already know what’s stressing me out, Steve. Do you need it in writing?”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Steve lowered his voice. “What do you need me to do?”

“Just,” you paused, stopping to face him. You opened and closed your hands mid-air as if that would help you formulate your sentences better. “I don’t know. But when I find out, I’ll let you know.”

This Steve could accept. So he simply nodded, guiding you the rest of the way with his hand gently placed on your lower back. 

     The drive back to the hotel was fairly silent. The radio provided a calming relief from such drama. Steve would glance at you every so often to check on you, but you were always resting your eyes. This was only the first day of the mission - officially. If you were this drained from one encounter, Steve needed to rethink this whole operation. Whether it was healthy to keep you on, or if the threat was just too large. But no matter the alternatives, Steve understood that this week was going to be difficult either way, and you needed to be present. This was your mission after all. He was just your partner. 

Even with a thousand things on your mind, you were still conscious enough to check your surroundings, check-in with the agent posted behind the front desk, and reconnect your mic with the teams. 

Steve pushed open your room door and threw the car keys on one of the nearby tables. “Nap time?”

You ignored his initial question, “I didn’t think seeing them in person again would be so draining.”

Steve watched you carefully, somewhat scared that you would pull out your gun again and shatter a window. “It was pretty cramped.”

You started to disarm yourself, tearing off your sweater and holsters clumsily. “And they acted like we were all on good terms! Around you, at least. I know they’re acting for my sister’s sake and then we can go back to hating each other after, but really?”

Steve sat on the edge of his bed, eyes sorry. “I really don’t know what to say.”

You threw yourself onto your bed, burying your face into the pillows. You continued speaking, albeit muffled. “You don’t have to say anything - just let me rant.”

“You’ll tire yourself out, Y/N. C’mon, we gotta draft up this report-”

You lifted yourself up and started smoothing down your hair, “I need a drink.”

Steve pointed to the computer, “The report.”

“A drink.” 

“Y/N, it’s getting late. The sooner we draft it, the sooner-”

You grumbled out again, already opening the door and shoving your boots on. “Steve, I need a drink. You know what they do to me, what they’ve done to me, what they continue to do every single day. Now, join me or not but I am going downstairs for a drink.”

Steve paused for a moment, looking around the room hesitantly. “Can I at least take the laptop?”

You threw your head back and walked out the door, “Take the goddamn laptop, jesus fucking christ, c’mon.”

     If there’s one thing you were happy about today, it was that you booked a hotel with a mini bar on the second floor. It wasn’t an outright full bar, but it was low lit, clean and the counters were made from fine wood, and there was a variety of flavors to choose from. There were only a few hotel guests spread out and a single bartender. You and Steve took seats at the counter. 

“Whiskey sour,” you called for the bartender, trying and failing to give him the nicest smile you could. 

Steve settled in his bar stool, “Thought you wanted to drink to drink hard.”

You chuckled at him and extended your arms in a stretch, “I’m mad, not depressed.”

He grinned at your movements - as if just sitting in a bar already loosened you up. “In that case, get me a beer.”

     Natasha had called Steve for help after your fourth beer and fifth whiskey. Her coaxing proved to be pointless, each request of a safe passage home seeming to enter one ear and leave the other. And you’ll end up killing her when you were sober enough for sending unwanted reinforcements, but even she didn’t want to fight you. If you wanted to drown in liquid courage, that courage churning itself into raw despair, then she would allow it. 

Steve stared at you for a few moments. Head hanging low, a deep frown etched into your tired expression, index finger tapping your glass as if you were debating whether to down it in one go or to leave it. Steve had never seen you like this, guard destroyed and face practically pale, just begging to be left alone. And it seemed the whole bar felt the same way, as there was no music playing and everyone was wallowing in their own grief. 

“I can spot you from a mile away, you know?”

Your voice immediately pulled Steve from his own mind and he was surprised you could still form coherent sentences given the amount of empty glasses in front of you. 

“I don’t mean to interrupt.”

You scoffed, leaning away from him as he sat down in the stool beside you. “Natasha sent you. Don’t tell me otherwise.”

“I’m not saying anything.”

“Good.”

Steve ordered a beer for himself, and although he was driving, one beer wouldn’t impair him anyway. It wouldn’t even cause a dent in his 20/20 vision. 

“Fucking ridiculous, it’s fucking ridiculous!” 

The bar patrons seemed to wince simultaneously and the bartender simply gathered a few of your empty glasses to wash. Steve didn’t hush you, didn’t touch you, didn’t try to reassure you. If you needed to cause a scene, it was time. Your silence for the past week had been frightening, but when Tony returned last night, half dead and without the kid, it seemed to be your breaking point. 

“Wanda destroyed it. She destroyed the fucking stone and all he did was use another to bring it back.”

Steve took a sip of his beer to disguise his quivering lip, but his eyes had no curtain. His waterline swelled with fresh tears, eyes instantly reddening, an undesired sting pinching the corners. 

“Strange must have had a reason. He must’ve, but - how can that reason include the death of trillions?”

“We’re going to find a way-”

“And if we don’t?”

Steve kept his lips on the bottle, incisors biting down only slightly as he took in your rhetorical question. You continued speaking.

“He destroyed the stones.”

“Carol is looking for answers.”

You shook your head and pulled out your wallet, leaving whatever cash you had on the counter before standing up. You stumbled but Steve latched onto your arm and pulled it to hug his waist. 

“Loki?” you mumbled, raising your head to lock eyes with Steve. He didn’t know if you were calling him another name or if you were asking for the God’s whereabouts. “Bucky?”

“Hey, stop, stop.”

“Peter?”

Steve could only nod. What use was it to lie to you? Your new vertical position seemed to magnify the true extent of your intoxication as your eyes finally glazed over and limbs trembled. 

“Let’s get you home, okay?”

Gripping his shirt, you apologized each time it would crumble and you would accidentally tug it downward. But Steve didn’t care. You were practically limp in his arms, heavy and without proper use of your legs. 

“You’re a good man, Steve.”

Steve sighed sadly but couldn’t help the small smile that formed as he looked down at you and found you sporting a silly one of your own. 

“A really good man. I’m happy you’re still here.”

Steve paused for a moment, taking in your words and holding back his own tears. If there was a time he wanted to be drunk off his ass, it would be now. He was somewhat jealous of the brief relief alcohol had given you, loose and not fully aware of the drama of the world. “I’m happy, too.”

“No, you’re not,” you slurred, allowing Steve to guide you to his car. You slumped against the passenger door as Steve searched his pocket for his key. “I heard you crying last night.”

Steve halted his search mid-pat, a hard crease forming between his eyebrows as he lifted his head. “I wasn’t-”

“I cry too,” you admitted, a drunken pout on your face. “You don’t have to lie to me.”

Perhaps it was a dirty thing for him to do at this moment because you wouldn’t remember a single word of this conversation in the morning, but he figured there was no immediate harm. He found his key, unlocked the car, and helped you inside. Only once he entered the car himself did he take advantage of your blurry mind. 

“I cried for Sam and Bucky. Who do you cry for?”

You clicked the seatbelt on, mind clear enough for safety precautions it seemed. “Poor Wanda.”

Steve nodded and started the car. “Anything else?”

“Did I ever tell you about the time Loki asked me on a date?”

Steve immediately shut off the car and turned to you. “Huh? When?”

You grinned, small giggles bubbling from your chest. “A few months ago. He was so shy, too. I said yes.”

Steve ignored the twinge in his chest, “How was it?”

You leaned your head back and tilted it towards him, your smile faltered slightly. “Never went on it. And now he’s dead.”

The urge to lean over and wrap you in a much needed hug was there, eating away at him since you called him a good man. But he had taken advantage of this situation far too much, so he simply nodded in understanding and started the car again. 

“I’m sorry.”

You barely heard him, but you mumbled a quick response before letting the alcohol fully consume you. “Me too.”

     You thanked the bartender when they slid you your drink. “I hadn’t seen him since before the world went to shit.” You took a quick sip. “Kinda strange.”

Steve nodded, wondering if he should dive deep into the issue at hand. Instead of outright saying his outdated spiel, he eased into it. He gave you a few needed sips of your drink, at least.  “Y/N, can I ask an honest question?”

You hummed, “My toes are already tingling. You could probably ask me what my kinks are and I’d tell you.”

Steve suddenly burst into a fit of giggles, “You never could handle a sip of alcohol.”

Your eyes rounded at his reaction. Perhaps the alcohol affected him in other fun ways that he didn’t know. “Nope, I’m a lightweight.”

Steve contained himself before clearing his throat, “The question…”

“Go ahead.”

He rolled his shoulders and took a sip of his beer. Leaning in closer, he lowered his voice. “If it comes down to it, and god forbid you’re incapacitated, do you want me to kill your father?”

Your mouth opened slightly, the words stuck behind your tongue. You looked down at your drink, as if some special response was swimming in it. You knew your answer, but the way to phrase it was lost. 

“I don’t want his blood on your hands.”

“But if it was the last choice?”

You sighed, “If you pull that trigger, they’ll never stop coming after you.”

Steve’s eyebrows scrunched together, “But if you pull it?”

You shrugged and raised the glass to your lips. “That’s my life, Steve. Let me deal with the consequences.”

“That’s just it - you don’t have to. At least, not alone.”

God, you hated how perfect Steve sounded all the time. Whenever he was annoying you, fighting you, or protecting you, his syllables were stretched in the most glorious way, dipping into every crevice of the person they were delivered to and warming inches of body slowly. You wanted him to have somewhat of an evil side for once in his life, but no matter how many times you thought he would explode, he didn’t.

Two years ago, when he dropped you from his life in an instant, you had assumed you finally caught a glimpse at this evil side. It was the only time you were truly scared of him. 

“You really are a good person.”

Steve swished his beer bottle around, “I wish everyone would stop being surprised by that.”

“I’m not surprised. I guess I just want to hate you, and I can’t.”

Steve’s shoulders slumped like crumbling mountains and you couldn’t stop thinking about how vulnerable he looked. You wanted to pull him closer and rest your head to his chest, hear his heartbeat and apologize for theorizing a possible hatred. 

“Why do you want to hate me?”

“When you wouldn’t sign the accords, part of me saw that as the mascot of America not caring if he invaded and pillaged everything in his path.”

“But I-” Steve interjected, but you stopped him by raising your hand and waving it gently. 

“I know why you didn’t. Hell, I helped you escape.”

“Why did you help if you hated me?”

Being vulnerable with Steve wasn’t anything new. You were each other’s support system for those lonely five years, but it all changed the moment you defeated Thanos. So, for the last two years you didn’t quite get along. But here, now, you could always tell when Steve was being honest and open. 

“Guess I thought that if you were willing to help me with my family, I should help you with yours.”

His therapist desperately tried to rationalize the experiences Steve would tell, instructing him to look past hard exteriors and accept help from others. That his old friends were still friends, and enemies should never be compared to those he loved. And he knew he was easily blinded when something or someone had the slightest mishap, instantly writing it off as harmful. 

He spoke of you often during his one hour sessions - stories of your blatant silliness and crude jokes; how you would poke your finger into his sandwiches when you thought he wasn’t looking; how you almost beat up a kid and his little gang for baiting Peter after his identity was exposed; and how you and Sam had gotten into a bar fight over something so trivial, so unnecessary, that it was almost unbelievable to see you innocently scoot away from the body on the floor in the police video, as if you had nothing to do with it and those few feet of distance automatically cleared you. 

His therapist would just listen. 

“Did I ever thank you?”

You smiled sadly, “You went into hiding soon after. Then we went to battle, lost everyone, went to battle again, and then…”

“And then.”

‘And then’ wasn’t really something you two liked to bring up. It was still a fresh wound, somewhat patched up, but still open. 

You spaced out for a few minutes, both of you enjoying your drinks. You were no longer drinking to get drunk, not that it was your original goal to begin with. You just sat in comfortable silence, reliving the events earlier that day and drafting an internal report. 

“What are you thinking about?”

You pursed your lips and thought, clicking your tongue when it finally dawned on you. “This was the first time I saw Marcus White sober.”

Steve sat up straighter, “Are you sure? He didn’t look it.”

“Yeah, he usually speaks quickly and he fidgets. But he was coherent this afternoon.”

“Should that be a red flag?”

You took out your phone and sent a quick text to Torres for him to monitor White closely for the next few days, just in case. “A big one. My father referred to him more often than he did Ramirez.”

Steve tackled every idea in his head quickly, speaking as a new one popped up. “They could be planning a move against Ramirez. He’s close to overthrowing your father.”

You raised your head from your phone, “And the wedding would be a perfect distraction.”

“He would kill his greatest rival on your sister’s happiest day?”

You let out a low chuckle, “This man has nothing to lose. It won’t matter who he topples along the way.”

Steve opened the laptop, silently congratulating himself for bringing it despite your insults, and began drafting the report. The two of you worked for the next hour, nursing a couple more drinks before you sent the final copy to Bucky. 

~

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