#and he does love wilson (more than he can fathom)
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this is probably the tenderest and most honest they've ever been to each other
#i need you to tell me that you Love Me!#and he does love wilson (more than he can fathom)#without you i'm nothing without you i'm nothing at all#gosh oww ow ow ouch#house md#gregory house#james wilson#hilson#house x wilson#otp: you cannot stay here - and you cannot go back to where you were#hugh laurie#robert sean leonard#house s8#s8 e21#holding on#disasterpiece.png#me#rory
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🙉 Hollister, 🌋 23, 💥 Iara, 🖍️ Maggie , 🕷️ Alastor , 💧 Wilson, ☄️ Rosalind. Content for some of the classic favs as well as information about some of the ones I'm less familiar with, that was my goal here. <:
WOOO HELL YEAH :DDD HELLO FRIEND
🙉 HEAR-NO-EVIL - what is the worse thing your oc could hear from someone?
The best answer here is the most obvious one - hearing someone say she isn’t good enough. She’s been told that her whole life, and it never really stops stinging. She acts like it doesn’t bother her, or like she’s above it, but every time she hears it just cuts a little deeper, and her need to always impress people has a heavy affect on the way she acts, whether she knows it or not. Everything has to be a competition so she can win it and prove herself and maybe then someone will decide she’s worth caring about. Even when people do care about her, unconditionally, she’s still running that little imaginary countdown in the back of her mind until they get fed up and abandon her. My traumatized little scrunkly <3
🌋 VOLCANO - how bad is their temper? is it a slow boil, or a instant explosion?
23 is very easily angered, but she’s been trained not to let that show, so when things do irritate her, she’s forced to just bottle it up and smile her little Cheshire-cat smile through it. With the way it builds up, though, there’s always bound to be a point where it explodes, and when it does, she is an absolute nightmare to be around. 23 gets very violent when she’s angry, and while she usually winds up taking it out on some punching bag in the gym, that doesn’t do much to satisfy the bloodlust. It’s part of the reason why she loves being on the job so much - beating up a person is much more fun than a punching bag. Fun fact! When she’s just frustrated but not too angry, she paces a lot and does this weird little clawing motion with her hands, which if you look closely enough is just her strangling a little imaginary person.
💥 COLLISON - what emotions do they have trouble dealing with?
Adams is usually very good at dealing with their emotions, but there’s one that always gets the best of them no matter how hard they try. Guilt. And they have a lot they feel guilty for, a lot of lives they weren’t able to save. Adams feels personally responsible for the safety of every one of their agents and everyone they’re supposed to protect. Every life lost feels like a failure on their own part, even if they had nothing to do with them. They can push down almost any other emotion to wait for later, but every time guilt hits, it always gets to them.
🖍️ CRAYON - what advice would you give to them?
Honestly, I almost wish she would give me some advice, but that’s irrelevant. Uhhhh. I think the best advice I could give her is that her self-sacrificial tendencies hurt the people around her more than help them. She faked her own death to keep Wilson safe, which affected him for the rest of his life. Plus, he got those tendencies from her, and we’ve seen how well that went. Her constant need to take the bullet for someone else more often than not winds up causing more pain than the original situation would have, and it screams “trauma” that her first instinct in a life-or-death scenario is to throw herself in front of someone rather than just. yknow. Using her shield, maybe??
🕷️ SPIDER - what is their biggest fear? do they have any irrational / mundane fears?
HOHOHO my guy. Alastor’s worst fear is simply being forgotten. Everything he does is an attempt to make a mark on the world - he just doesn’t care whether than mark is good or bad. He cannot fathom the idea of his own existence being entirely unimportant in the grand scheme of things, and all his scheming shit and assholery can really be chalked up to him trying to claw his way into some kind of significance before he dies. A high-ranking member of the IBW, maybe someday it’s leader. One of the Society’s greatest enemies. The man who created his own human superweapon from nothing. He thinks he deserves to be remembered long after his death, and he has no problem being remembered for all the awful things he’s done, so long as he makes an impact. Spoiler alert: he doesn’t get that :)
💧 DROPLET - random angst headcanon
Wilson has awful night terrors. Horrifying. They’re mostly relived memories from his childhood or nightmares about losing people, but either way, they cause him an insane amount of stress, but he plays it off like it’s not a big deal. Like. Buddy don’t try to be slick with me I know you’ve been avoiding going to sleep for days on end we can all see the bags under your eyes. Lying next to Fox helps most nights after they move in together, letting Wilson focus on that warmth rather than his intrusive thoughts and memories, and Fox is always there to comfort him on the occasions that the nightmares come back, but you know those few weeks where everyone thought Fox was dead? Haha! Those were not fun.
☄️ COMET - what do people assume about them? are they right?
It’s Rosie time baybeeee~ When out in public, Rosalind likes to fake the whole “dumb blonde” thing. Then, people severely underestimate her, making it much easier to manipulate them, and by the time they figure out what she’s doing she’s already got a gun pointed at their head. She doesn’t get to do this much anymore - she was one of the DoA’s assassins before she took over as it’s leader, and she doesn’t get the chance to interact with outsiders too much - which is a shame, since she always found it very funny when people figured her out. She does still pull that trick every time she meets someone from outside, though. She’s probably the smartest person in the whole paracosm, and she knows it.
Ask game
#para: wilson#para: hollister#para: adams#para: alastor#para: agent 23#para: mags#paracosm: the starwritten society#I am hugging you very aggressively right now sugar#I love talking about these guys#if you can’t tell I really like Rosalie actually#she’s the fun of Alastor but a girlboss and also not based on someone who manipulated me#ty for the ask <3#para: rosalind
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it's just a curve upon the lips (a kiss)
Summary: “Did it really look like I needed your help?”
“Yes. Horribly.”
Characters: TFATWS!Bucky Barnes/(f)Reader
Warnings: 18+ (no smut), possible TFATWS SPOILERS, strong language, canon typical violence, fluff, humor, established relationship, idiots in love, is this a john walker hate fic?, totally not divine's normal bag of tricks
Word Count: 4500
A/N: Well, I have 0 patience so I am posting this fic this morning. This fic was written for @kitkatd7 and her 600 follower writing challenge! The prompts I used are bolded. Congrats again lovely 💖 hope you are doing swell and that you enjoy this! Thanks for hosting!!
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Bucky’s going to kill you.
Or, more realistically, he’s going to kill John Walker. Not that it’s really Walker’s fault that you’re in the predicament you’re in. Well—okay—he’s not faultless. If anyone ruined this mission first, it was Walker. All you’re doing is trying to save it.
But being pressed up against the wall of some dirty nightclub in Madripoor, John Walker’s lips inhaling your own, his hand wandering dangerously close to your ass where he could easily slip his fingers up the hem of your dress and feel that you aren’t wearing panties, well, that’s gonna be a hard one to explain.
It all started when you were born—
But more seriously, it started in New York, when Sam Wilson showed up on your doorstep with a new mission.
“Absolutely not.”
“C’mon, don’t make me beg!” Sam’s standing in front of you, hardly out of the entryway, giving you the big puppy dog eyes as if he’s asking for something simple, like taking you out for a milkshake. Or jetting you off to Italy for a long overdue vacation. Or, fuck, anything but whisking your boyfriend off to Madripoor for an off-the-books mission.
You stare at him, hard, for five seconds. Then you point to the ground beneath your feet.
“Beg,” you command.
He recoils in absolute shock, mouth falling open, and then his lips pull back to reveal a set of pearly teeth bared in a cheesy grin.
“Damn, Barnes,” he says with a whistle. “You better watch your back or I’ll snatch her up, quick as can be.”
Not even moving from the couch he’s lounging on, Bucky throws his hand up in the air, waving lazily at Sam.
“You couldn’t handle her.”
Your head falls to the side, eyebrows raised, as if you’re taunting him— waiting for him to say something. Sam’s mouth shuts with a click of teeth and he gulps. With a smile, you narrow your eyes into a glare.
“Fair point,” he says.
“I’m serious,” you tell him, arms crossed over your chest. “If you want him, you better start begging, Wilson.”
Sam purses his lips, like he’s seriously thinking about it, and lets out a loud sigh. He’s folding. But just as he’s about to concede, you hear the squeak of your old couch crow and then two large hands, one warm and one cool, fall upon the sides of your jaw, tipping your head back.
Bucky looks down at you sternly. “Baby,” he warns.
You huff, pouting a little. “Really?”
The corner of his lips curl. You hate that he’s tall enough to tower over you like this, the bastard.
“Really,” he says, and leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You don’t need to worry about me.”
Your eyes flutter closed and you sigh, melting back into him. When you open them again, Sam has his gaze averted, almost embarrassed, like he knows he’s intruding on an intimate moment. As if he hasn’t seen you wrapped around Bucky like an octopus, making out with him as soon as he got home from Riga. It makes you snort.
Bucky’s hands fall from holding your face and wrap around your middle. “So what’s the plan?” he asks, squeezing you gently. “And why is it off record?”
“Got a lead on one of the Power Broker’s old friends,” Sam says, suddenly snapping from Goofy Sam into Captain America, face set stoically, lips pressed into a thin line.
“Why do we care?”
“‘Cause Walker’s already there.”
Bucky’s arms tighten around you until all the air is pushed out of your mouth in a wheeze. You’ve become a squeaky toy, and you’d take a minute to snark at him about it if you could breathe, but you manage to slap your hands against one of his wrists. He lets you go instantly, cursing.
“Shit, sorry doll. Sorry.” His hands soothe over your sore skin. “What do you mean Walker’s there? In Madripoor?”
Sam gives him a curt nod. “He’s gone rogue—not that anyone’s surprised. But we’ve got to intercept. Or at least go and clean up the mess he’s about to make.”
“No,” you interject. “Nuh uh. No fucking way, Samuel. No.”
He frowns at you. “We don’t have much of a choice.”
“The hell you don’t! Let Walker get himself in trouble, who cares? He isn’t your responsibility, and he sure as hell isn’t Bucky’s—who is on a strict pardon, might I remind you.”
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t need him, girl.” For what it’s worth, Sam looks apologetic, and like he means that, but all you can feel is the frustration and anger at what Walker’s done rising up in your body. Stealing the mantle from Sam, calling the love of your life an asset, disrupting his therapy, being a smug asshole, the events of—of everything that happened in Riga.
Bucky and Sam share a look that you don’t really catch, and then Bucky is pulling you toward the living room and spinning you in his arms so you’re smushed to his chest. He takes your face in his hands again and forces you to look at him as you twine your arms around his waist.
“Hey,” he calls gently. “What’s gotten into you?”
“It’s Walker,” you stress. “And Madripoor. And the Power Broker and you’re gonna get in trouble, Bucky. You might be a free agent but you have to be responsible.”
“You know this is my job. And you know Sam’s not gonna let me get into trouble. So what’s really wrong, baby?”
Sighing, tears starting to sting the backs of your eyes, you bury your face in Bucky’s chest. The softness of his henley catches a stray tear that you blink away as you nestle there and he curves his hands around your back to pin you against him. He smells clean, a little like pine and something smoky.
“I don’t want you to go,” you whisper. “You just came home.”
“Baby.”
Bucky pulls you up to meet him, his lips pressed against your own, a little chapped and familiar. It’s gentle and slow, not all-consuming, but a reminder of how much he loves you. His thumb swipes over your cheek to snag a runaway tear and wipe it away. He kisses you like he’s saying, I’m home. You’re my home.
When he pulls away, he’s not smiling, but his brow is furrowed like he’s pained. There is so much fondness for you in the blue depths of his eyes, so much love in the way he caresses your skin with his calloused fingers.
“Come with us,” he says, softly and in love.
And in the background, Sam Wilson shouts: “What?”
That’s how you find yourself in Madripoor.
Now, how you got yourself in this slinky black dress and a pair of stilettos, about to infiltrate a seedy nightclub in the middle of Low Town with a certain rogue John Walker—that’s a whole different story.
It’s a short one, really. You touched down in Madripoor, Sam found Walker making a mess of things as per usual, and then they were left with one single lead: Matthias Crowley. And, unfortunately for you, Crowley knows everyone’s face who is sitting in this town car on their way to Vanish, the club he frequents.
Except for yours.
Bucky is sitting beside you in the back seat, trying to angle a comms device into your ear. But his hands are fumbly, nervous, and yet again he ends up missing his mark.
You hiss in pain as the unit is jammed against the cartilage of your ear and Bucky curses.
“Sorry, baby,” he murmurs. “Your ear is just so small.”
“Give it to me,” you snap, a little harsher than normal, but he’s been at it for a few minutes now and just won’t let you do it. With a sigh, Bucky drops the piece into your awaiting palm, and within the next few seconds you have the little black device squished into place. In the darkness of the club, it won’t be visible.
“Sorry,” he says again, looking at you like a kicked puppy. You lay your hand on the cut of his jaw, nails scraping over his skin in a manner that makes him suck in a breath. A preview of later.
“I’ll be fine, babe. I promise.” You curl your lips in a smile. “Don’t worry so much.”
Bucky’s hand falls upon your own, squeezing your fingers. “You’re my best girl,” he tells you.
“Onlygirl.”
“I can’t help but worry. If you get hurt—”
“You don’t have to worry, Bucky. She’ll be with me, after all,” Walker says from the front seat, glancing at the two of you in the rearview mirror. Sam just sighs.
“And now I’m even more worried,” Bucky says, loud enough for Walker to hear. He takes both of your hands in his and presses kisses to your knuckles. “Promise me you’ll be safe, doll. That you’ll listen to all our directions. And that you’ll call me if you need me.”
“It’s going to be fine,” you reassure him, but he squeezes your hands again. “I’m not going to risk ruining the mission.”
“Fuck the mission,” Bucky grits through his teeth. “Madripoor is dangerous. Promise to call me if you need me.”
“Bucky—”
“Promise,” he pleads, his blue eyes all big and wide and worried, and you can’t refuse him.
“I promise.”
He gives you one last, lingering kiss in the backseat of the town car, nearly pulling you atop his lap like he can’t fathom not feeling you against him, and then Sam’s pulling up to Vanish and Walker is calling your name.
The plan is fairly simple. God, isn’t that what they always say though?
You cause a distraction. Spill your fruity drink on Crowley’s lap, get a little teary, show a little cleavage (you left that part out when Bucky was listening), and hold his attention long enough that Walker can sneak up onto the top level and into Crowley’s rented room. There, he’ll knock out the guards and break into the room to get the hard drive that everyone’s ninety-five-percent sure has info on the elusive Power Broker.
And, spoiler alert, most of this does not end up happening.
“You little whore!”
One of Crowley’s bodyguards, or shooty-guys, whatever they are, jesus, has his hand threaded through your hair so tightly it burns. You’re on your knees in front of the man himself, the strap of your silken dress falling off your shoulder, as the bodyguard dude is pulling your head up by your hair to look Matthias in the eyes.
The man himself, blond and kind of thinner than you thought he would be, leans forward in his seat to get a closer look at you. He’s kind of got a stick bug vibe. Like, Bucky could probably crack this man’s spine over his knee.
You feel a giggle try to worm it’s way out of your mouth and you clench your teeth together so hard you draw blood from your tongue.
“Do you even know who I am?” Crowley seethes at you, eyes narrowed into slits.
“No,” you stammer out, pulling out the doe eyes and the wobbling lip—the innocent angel face you tend to use when Bucky’s pissed at you for something you definitely knew you shouldn’t be doing but you did anyway because you’re a brat sometimes.
Men in love are the weakest link, you swear.
Crowley looks over you, gaze roaming up and down your body, and you squeeze your thighs together because you are definitely not wearing panties under this dress and, well, you aren’t looking for anyone to get a glimpse of that except for a man with a metal arm.
But Crowley mistakes it for something else, and a smirk breaks through his lips.
“You’re pretty,” he regards you, “for a whore.” Ouch. “Take her upstairs and I’ll deal with her later.”
Oh fuck. You really, really hope that Walker is up there and has the hard drive already. But as the bodyguard drags you up off the ground and toward the stairs, the pounding of your heart gets faster and faster and you’re pretty sure you’re sweating and wow, no one said that missions were this scary.
But you’re not about to call Bucky yet. Walker can get you through this. Probably.
In complete silence, the shooty-guy who definitely has a gun in his hand forces you up two flights of stairs and into a long, dark hallway. The only light is a flickering row of yellowed-out bulbs hanging haphazardly from the ceiling.
And, maybe it’s all the horror movies that someone likes to watch on movie night or something, but you get this horrible sinking feeling that you’re going to die in this ominous hallway, so you decide to act before you get dragged off to Crowley’s room.
You jerk to a stop, digging your heels into the stained carpet. Shooty-dude was not expecting that. He falters just enough that you whip out your leg and aim for the backs of his knees. You reach for the gun. Wrist in hand, you point it up, up, up at the ceiling. Dude lets your hair go to grab you. You send your head back with the force of a thousand suns, hoping it breaks his nose. Too short—clips his chin. Now you’re dizzy and your vision is going black at the edges.
His wrist slips your grip because you don’t know how to fight. Bucky taught you about twenty things and you remember exactly three of them—backs of the knees, head butt, and, oh, right.
You take your palm and shove it straight up into his nose. He dodges.
Shit.
And then, very suddenly and out of nowhere, bodyguard shooty-dudey is literally ripped away from you and thrown onto the carpeted floor, and Walker is on him. A sickening crack of his neck is all you need to hear to know it’s over.
You slump against the wall of the hallway, panting, looking at him.
“Did it really look like I needed your help?”
“Yes. Horribly.” Walker wipes a bloodied hand on the bodyguard’s jacket, glancing back at you. “You okay?”
“Peachy,” you reply. “Did you get the drive?”
He swipes a black box out of his suit jacket, shaking it at you, and you nod.
“Then let’s get the fuck out of here,” you say, still trying to catch your breath. You press the tiny button on your comms device. “On our way down.”
A voice crackles to life. “You okay?” Bucky sounds worried and it makes you smile.
“Yep.”
“Good. Take the back entrance out of the club. Sam’ll pick you up. You’re doing great, baby.”
“This mean I’ll get a reward, Barnes?”
He laughs into the comms. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, doll. Be safe. I love you.”
“Love you more,” you tell him, and then you and Walker are on the move, out of the dingy hallway and toward the exit.
“So,” Walker starts, his voice still kept to a low rumble. “You and Bucky, huh?”
“Don’t.”
“Okay then.”
Thankfully, the rest of your trip is silent, because not only do you want to punch Walker in his stupid face every time he opens his mouth, but also because you hear the sounds of footsteps approaching, along with a familiar voice.
“Hope he tied the little whore up for me. Easier to fuck ‘em and kill ‘em like that. She didn’t seem too feisty though. Maybe I can keep her.”
You curse, grabbing Walker. Think fast, think fast, think fast.
“I need you to cover me,” you hiss. “Need you—God, can you work with me here? I need you to—”
Walker is very heavy and very uncooperative, you realize, as you pull him to the shadowed corner of the stairwell and try to arrange his limbs around you. He’s not very quick on the draw, lumbering and looking down at the stairs where the voices are floating up from, and at this point, you need to find whoever tried to make him Captain America and slap them in the fucking mouth.
Finally, you duck down and slam your back against the wall, pull Walker atop you, and take his face and slam his lips to yours.
And boy, it doesn’t take him long to get into the swing of things.
So yeah, in hindsight, you probably should have thought more about how your broody boyfriend was going to react to this. But also, your life was kind of on the line, and you really really really did not want to screw this mission up. It was bad enough that it was off the books thanks to Walker—no one but Torres would know where you guys were if you happened to die—but ruining the mission might mean that Bucky would be back on the chopping block.
It’s his job, you know. He’s a free agent, you know. He’s Sam’s partner and Sam won’t let anything happen to him, you know.
But also you’re just a tiny girl in a big world who shelves library books for a living. The only reason you know any self-defense is because your boyfriend is a reformed assassin. It’s like you’re living a double life. And, for god’s sake, he’s out there saving the world and shit. The least you can do is not fuck up one mission. Just one mission.
But man, Walker’s lips kind of taste like flat beer.
It’s enough that Crowley and his men brush past the two of you with little but a sneer and a shove of Walker’s back, who stumbles right into you, but you keep moving your mouth against his because you still hear them walking, and walking, and walking, and you aren’t ready to die but Walker’s nose keeps bumping yours and you haven’t kissed anyone besides Bucky in like three years, so this is super unpleasant.
And, god, if Walker’s hand doesn’t quit moving up your thigh, under the hem of your slick black dress, you’re going to have Bucky break his fingers.
In warning, you nip his bottom lip, and Walker pushes harder into you, caging you against the wall. As his fingers approach your hip, where he definitely will realize you aren’t wearing underwear, you slap his hand down and send your knee into his junk. He grunts into your mouth, but takes the hint.
Sam’s voice comes alive in your ear. “Where are you two?”
You don’t hear Crowley’s footsteps anymore, but you count one, two, three more seconds and then shove Walker off of you. He falls back, catching himself on the stair railings, wiping his mouth with a dopey look on his face.
“Damn,” he says, grinning.
You press your comms unit. “Ran into trouble. On our way now.”
“You good?” Sam asks, and this time, Walker chimes in.
“Better than good,” he replies, still staring at you.
“Gross,” you spit, then you’re breezing past him and rushing down the stairs.
He trails behind you, too close, and part of your brain reminds you that he has to stick close to you because it’s a mission, but another part of your brain is screaming that he’s acting like a puppy dog and not like you kissed him to save both your asses.
“Why are you even with Bucky? I don’t get it,” he murmurs in your ear—the one without your comms device—and even under the loud music of Vanish you can hear him.
“You don’t have to,” you snap back at him. “Our relationship is between us. Get lost, Walker.”
The door is right there. You can see it now as you slip past sweaty, drunk, dancing bodies. You just have to get out that back door and Sam will be waiting to pick you up, just like Bucky said.
But Walker’s hand slides over the silky fabric of your dress and his arm winds around your waist.
“But that kiss,” he says, near dreamy. “And Barnes isn’t your type of man.”
You turn back to glare at him. “Didn’t your wife leave you or something?”
His eye twitches. “C’mon,” he says. “I think we’ve got real—”
Before he can finish, you reach the exit and burst through the door and out into the back alley, the smell of rotting garbage, old piss, and blood filling your nose. Frankly, you prefer this trash over the trash spilling from Walker’s mouth right now.
But Sam, unfortunately, is nowhere to be seen. Immediately, you go to press your comms unit to find out where he is, but then Walker’s hand falls on your shoulder.
The next thing you know, your back is on the brick wall of the alley and Walker’s hands are on either side of your head, trapping you there. It doesn’t scare you in the least bit, even though you know it should, what with the fact that he’s a super soldier too. But your super soldier will come kick Walker’s ass, you know for certain, so there isn’t even an ounce of fear in you. Only anger.
“Get the fuck off of me,” you grit through your teeth.
“Just listen to me for a second,” he says.
“No!” You move to duck under his arm, but Walker grabs you and holds you there.
“I’m not asking.” He takes your chin in his hand. “I just want to know why you’re all over Barnes. He’s barely a person. Probably not even a good partner, if I had to guess.”
“Fuck you.” You gather the saliva in your mouth and spit directly at Walker’s lips.
The way his face contorts into fury, shadowed by the darkness of the alley, his eyes lit up by the neon of Madripoor, makes him look like a feral animal. And now you’re scared.
You saw the videos from Riga. You know what he’s capable of.
His grip on your chin tightens considerably, fingers digging into your jaw, and try as you might to swallow it, you whimper in pain. Walker tilts his head to the side, watching you, a tight smile finding its way onto his mouth.
“Is he better than me?” Walker demands. “You’d rather a brainwashed, broken super soldier than a decorated one?”
You try and speak but you can’t open your mouth. God, you’d give anything to tell him how much of a piece of shit he is, in fucking gory detail.
Like he’s reading your mind, or maybe he just wants you to stroke his ego, Walker’s grasp loosens only slightly, the pain still searing through your bones. But it’s enough that you can move your mouth, if only a little. It’s enough.
“He’ll always be better than you,” you manage to say.
Oh god. This is going to hurt.
You shouldn’t, you know, but you close your eyes anyway. Maybe it’ll help the pain of it. With a deep breath in, you steady yourself and wait for whatever Walker’s about to throw at you.
But nothing comes, and then suddenly his pressure is gone and you hear the familiar—god, thank god—sound of a nearly-silent metal arm invades your ears and your eyes pop open just in time to watch Bucky kick a heavy boot straight into Walker’s middle, the force throwing the blond across the alleyway.
You scream his name at the very same time that Sam rounds the corner, shouting, “If you kill him, they are not gonna give a shit about your pardon!”
Sam stops, takes one look at you, and his eyes widen.
“Are you okay?” he asks, taking a step toward you.
You point your finger at your boyfriend who is currently lifting Walker up by the goddamn neck—with his flesh hand, just to make a fucking point—and about to smear the poor dude’s guts across the brick.
“Stop him!” you yell, and Sam jumps into action.
“You think you can just touch her like that?” Bucky roars, slamming Walker back into the alley’s wall. “You think you that’s fucking okay? You’re out of your goddamn mind.”
“It wasn’t like that!” Walker tries to defend himself, stumbling onto the ground as Sam pulls Bucky off of him.
“Pardon,” Sam keeps repeating. “Conditional pardon. A very conditional pardon, Buck.”
“Her comms were on, you moron!” Bucky yells back, but ultimately lets Sam drag him away.
Your fingernail scrapes over the device in your ear and—lo and behold—the button had gotten stuck.
“You touch her again and I’ll fucking kill you, Walker.” Bucky is downright seething, anger rolling off him in tangible waves. “Pardon or no pardon, I will fucking murder you if you even look at her ever again. You think the Raft is bad? I’ve had much worse.”
“James Barnes!”
In an instant, Bucky’s eyes snap to yours, and then he’s rushing toward you. In barely two long strides he’s scooping you up in his arms and off the brick you feel indented in your skin, and he’s rubbing and soothing your hair and your back and your face and—goddamnit, Bucky Barnes—your ass, too.
“Baby,” he breathes, as if he hasn’t breathed in a millenia. “You okay?”
“James fucking Bucky Barnes,” you huff. “Right now I don’t even know if I want to kiss you or shove you off a bridge.”
Bucky peers down at you, looking over you like he’s trying to make sure you aren’t bruised or scraped anywhere and that you’re really okay, and once he’s satisfied with that, a charming grin breaks through his lips.
“Can I pick?"
“Fuck you.”
You grab onto the collar of his leather jacket and pull him down upon you, and as if his lips were made for yours, as if he was made for you, your mouths slot together in a perfect kiss.
He tastes faintly of smoke and a little like blood, something you’ve become used to at this point. And his nose never bumps yours. Bucky knows exactly how to angle his face to deepen the kiss, his tongue slipping between your lips as you let out a quiet moan of perfection, and his hands don’t wander. They only press into the small of your back so he can feel you against him.
Nothing like Walker. Only Bucky.
You pull away, gasping for air, and Bucky finds the crook of your neck and shoulder. He plants kisses up and down your neck as he holds you, your knees going a little weak, and you turn to find Walker.
He’s standing at the end of the alleyway, staring at you with a look of pure disgust.
You mouth one word to him before Bucky is calling you baby, grabbing your face, and kissing you again.
Told you.
#kits600challenge#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes fanfic#divine masterlist#thanks for supporting me
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“I’ve Got The Perfect Name”
Summary- 2.9k Sam Wilson x You. Your in training with the Avenger Team and have a slight mishap. No one else is bothered by it, but you can’t seem to get over it. Sam takes you out to early morning breakfast to his favorite place to take your mind off it. Its fluffy fluff. No warnings. Unless you count Bucky stealing food off someones plate a warning. Written for @jtargaryen18 4k challenge. Congrats babes! Much love always.
The day Tony Stark came out as Ironman, things changed. The world changed. Suddenly superheroes were no longer something from comic books and movies, but real actual people, and you wanted nothing more than to become one.
This whole new world opened up, and you were quick to join in, putting in your schooling to join SHIELD. Specifically Nichols Fury. Your time working with Nicholas Fury really opened your eyes to possibilities you never could have fathomed. Being a Shield Agent trained you in all manners of fight styles and technology. So years down the road you had to move on from Shield when Captain, Black Widow and newly recruited Falcon proved it was compromised. Yet you followed Fury, your work had become everything for you.
Life happened, the snap happened, and you continued on through it as best you could. The losses, there was no way to properly mourn. You tried, once in a while to deal with it, attending Steve Rogers support groups, the two of you would talk one on one. You told him about your history with Shield and Fury, he told you more and more about the Avengers, those people he considered family. You could see the pain it caused him.
“You don't have to Steve, it's okay.”
“No I got to, it's how we keep their memory alive.” He would simply say. You left it at that, maybe you were helping him as much as he was helping you. Over time, he became more then someone you once worked with, he became a friend.
The day came when the snap was reversed, and Steve Rogers called you the next day with urgency. “We have to talk, meet me at that cafe by your apartment.”
When you two happened to meet an hour later, he slid a folder across the table at you. “I have an offer for you.”
**************************
You landed on the tarmac designed specifically for War Machine and for the new Captain America. Sam, he really wasn't about to give up his wings, not for the new title. You let out a frustrated exhale as you stepped away from the bullseye target and Sam landed down as you were walking away.
“Y/N! Come back here, it wasn't your fault.” His red wings folded behind him, and he jogged over to where you were opening the door and going back into the compound, undoing clasps and the harness holding your own wings and sliding them off.
“I spiraled out of control. If that had been a mission Sam, I could have hurt someone!” You snapped out as you pushed your own set of wings into the lock up. “I need to do better than this.”
Sam shrugged off his own and put it next to yours. “You are just learning still. It's only been a few months. When I first got the wings with Riley, we were crashing all over the damn place. It takes time. I'm ready to have you join the team now actually, if you weren't so damn stubborn.” trying to reassure you, you shrugged him off, closing the lockers door. You still felt like you were failing the team, and Rogers. He had believed in you when he gave you this opportunity, and still you were making mistakes. Sam might brush it off as small, but for you they were huge, significant.
“Well I say I'm not.” your arms folding over your chest and sighing. “I have to be perfect, you guys can't afford to have someone making basic mistakes.”
“Y/N, you know you can’t be perfect, no one is.” He started, but you already were walking away from Sam to go back down to the lounge, when he stopped you, frowning a bit. “You do know that right?” eyes studying yours and you gave a sharp nod, and forced a smile.
“Sure Wilson, don't worry. Tomorrows a new day.” Extracting yourself from his grasp, you continued to the lounge area, leaving Wilson frustrated with being unable to get you to calm down.
Inside the lounge area, you went immediately to the kitchen, searching for something. Anything that can take your mind off your mistake today, pulling open the fridge door, and slamming it shut again with an aggravated sigh, then onto the cupboards and drawers. Yanking open one, you saw a half crumpled bag of Mint Milanos, and snatched the bag, unrolling it. Taking out a cookie you munched on it, when a deep voice from behind you made you jump and spin around, catching sight of Bucky sitting at the table, a ripe purple plum rolling between his metal fingers. “Bad day Y/N?” He sunk his teeth into the fruit and chewed it.
“Disappointed in myself.” You dug for another cookie and crammed it in your mouth.
Bucky used his foot to push out a chair, and you went to sit in it, snapping your next cookie in half and offering him half of it, which he shook his head at.
“Sounds kinda like you're beating yourself up, I haven't heard of anyone being hurt. So what happened?”
You picked at the cookie a bit before taking a bite, chewing it slowly and setting the rest aside. “Clint be mad if I eat all his cookies.” Bucky snorted with laughter and took another bite of his plum.
“He aint gonna care. Probably won't be back for another few months now that he's back home with Laura and the kids. So? Wilson getting on your nerves, cause I could give you a few payback tips.”
“No no… Sam was helpful. He’s been trying his hardest training me with the wings. Sam told me to be careful of those updrafts, and one caught me unaware, I turned when I should have tilted.” you continued on, Bucky listening and when you tapered off, Bucky had finished his plum, the pit left behind that he made a toss, which it kerplunked into the nearby garbage can.
“So you made a mistake today. You learn from it and dont do it tomorrow.”
“And what happens when I make a mistake in a mission Buck?”
He wiped his hands against his thighs, and moved to a stand, grabbing two beers from the fridge and handing you one. “You make it right, your human Y/N, just like the rest of us. You wouldn't fault any of us on a minor thing, would you? I hope not, cause then I would be fucked.” Tipping his bottle to yours with a clink, he left it at that.
****************************************************
You still couldn't shake the feeling, wandering the compound early in the morning hours, you wanted to test the wings again, prove to yourself that Rogers wasn't wrong in picking you to take the Falcons place. You were just about to go up the stairs back to the tamarac when Sam came out of nowhere and grasped your arm.
“No way Y/N, you know you can't go flying along in the middle of the damn night. At least not yet.”
“I wasn't- Okay okay, I hear you. I just can't sleep.” You gave in, and let go of the handle, stepping away to show Sam that you weren't serious about actually doing it.
He seemed to study you, and then in the dark his grin flashed bright. “I got something better in mind.” Tugging you away, you followed him down, heading towards the garage.
“Well what's that Wilson?”
“Oh you will see, get in the car.” He opened the passenger side door, and you folded your arms in defiance.
“You know it is only fair to tell a person where they are going. What if sweat pants and a hoodie isn't proper attire.”
Giving you a nudge, in which you complied, he shut the door and went behind the wheel. “I assure you, you will be fancy enough there. Promise.” The drive was quick being 4 in the morning and no traffic. You leaned forward to read the sign above where he stopped.
“The Wayside? You took me to an all night diner?”
“Sure did, best place to get breakfast this early in the morning. Plus you were driving me nuts at the compound. Up all night, pacing around, beating yourself up over nothing” Sam insisted, and got out of the car, you followed suit, wrapping your arms around yourself as his own went over your shoulder, leading you inside. You scowled at him and rolled your eyes.
“I was doing no such thing.”
“Sure you weren’t Y/N. Morning Sal!” Sam called cheerfully to the cook just in sight in the kitchen, he gave a wave of his spatula in salute to Sam and turned back to his stove, where you could see he was preparing to start cooking. Sam scanned the room, and then pointed at a booth near the entrance, situating you on a specific side. “Perfect, exactly where we need to be.”
“Need to be?” You questioned as you sat down, glancing out the window to a sky starting to lighten up, another car pulling into the parking lot.
“Yup, take your mind off yesterday, get a damn good breakfast and just chill.” Sam explained what he wanted, and you listened closely, laughed with a light shake of the head, arching a brow with a grin on your face. Just what Sam was looking for.
“You actually do this often?” you say as a waitress grabs a couple menus, making her way over, dropping them off.
“Sam, two mornings in a row? I say you must be growing sweet on me, cause Sal’s cooking isn't that amazing.”
“Awww you know I'm always sweet on you.” Sam flirted back while you took the menu, and flicked it open. Nearby you could hear Sal cursing in the kitchen, the waitress rolling her eyes. “Don't mind him, he does that every morning. Get you two something to drink? Coffee, tea, juice, milk, water?”
You snapped your menu closed with a smile to your waitress, even if you were still bleary eyed and half asleep. Your eyes darted to her name tag before answering. “Coffee please Sara.” She jotted down before waving off Sam's request.
“Orange Juice and coffee, black?” She quirked a brow and Sam confirmed with a wink, and nodded. “Be right back you two.” Her flats clicked on the linoleum floor while she went around the counter, and grabbed mugs. You settled in your booth seat, your back leaning against the wall as your legs stretched out on the seat, glancing at Sam.
“So… you actually sweet on Sara?” You grinned at him, and he nodded.
“I've been thinking about asking her out. She's a sweetheart and I would love to get to know her better. I just haven't yet.”
“And, what's stopping you Wilson? You wait too long, and someone else is going to beat you to it.”
Sam glanced out the window a minute, shrugging a bit. “Eh, seems like we’re always heading out doing something, and do I really want to drag someone into a life where she's worried? How is that fair?”
“Well…” You drifted off, Sam wasn't wrong. The thought had crossed your mind before. It would be alot to ask anyone to wait around, not knowing. As Avengers, they could be called on day or night, plus couldn't talk about their mission. Your partner wouldn't have any idea. “... Ask her. She should be able to make that decision for herself, right? You don't know, she might be okay with it, ya know? Besides, its just a date. Get out and have fun.”
“I could say the same for you Y/N.” He snorted, and caught Sara heading back over, flashing his bright grin and thanking her as she set down your coffees and his orange juice. “Can I set you two up?” She untucked her pen from her ear and grasped a pad from her apron. You were prompt in ordering your blueberry pancakes with sausage, Sam with hashbrowns, bacon and two fried eggs. Your foot nudged him under the table, and he flashed you a look. Since he wasn't ready, you didn't push any further for now. Left alone again, you picked up your conversation where it was left off.
“Same for me? Just cause I haven't dated in several months.”
“Ha, you haven't gone for a night out since you took the wings.” He sipped from his coffee cup while you were prompt grasping sugar and cream, dumping it in.
“Well I'm in training, I don't have time.”
“You're done with training Y/N, the wings are yours anytime you want.” His eyes lifted to catch yours, and you could feel unease as to how he turned this right around on you. Back to what was keeping you awake, the reason you and Sam were even out at 4 AM. “I even got a kickass name for you Y/N, since you can't have Falcon.”
You picked up his straw that Martha left for his orange juice, twiddling it between your fingers. “Wait, why not? You're not the Falcon anymore, since you took the shield.”
“Falcons mine, I still got the wings, Red Wing. I'm not giving that up. But, now hear me out.” He sounded so excited that you made a go on motion while prying off the top of the straws paper, listening. “We can call you, The Kestrel.”
That made you snort, bust out into a laugh, looking at him with amusement. “The Kestrel? Oh damn, where did you come up with that?”
“Come on, it's cool. You're smaller than me, and your wings do that hover in place thing. Know what Kestrels do when hunting? They hover over a spot till their prey bolts in fear. Then BAM! strike. Its badass name, you should consider it.”
“When did you go all Nat Geo on me Sam?” You purse your lips at the end of the straw and blew, shooting the paper at him, which he swatted away. Grabbing the straw from you, he stuck it in his orange juice and drank.
“Since forever, You should try it sometime. Expand the brain.” Tapping his forehead, Sara was heading back over with two steaming plates, setting your stack of blueberry pancakes in front of you, and Sam's full breakfast in front of him. “Thanks Sara.” Sam smiled warmly at her this time, which was returned.
“Enjoy you two, let me know if I can get anything else.” she looked at both of them, and then retreated back to help newly arriving customers settling at the counter. More regulars as she engaged in conversations with them. You couldn't help but watch Sam's lingering gaze follow her before he went back to his plate. You poured syrup on, and cut off your first piece.
“How about this Sam, You go ask Sara on a date, and I will consider taking up the wings officially. Name and all, no more training. You and Buck both seem to think I'm ready.” compromising with him, you saw a flash of accomplishment in Sam’s eyes and an outreach of his hand.
“Deal, shake on it, or it doesn't count.”
Your hand reached across and gave a firm shake. Once your hands separated, you made a motion for him to go, in which he took a deep breath and slid himself from the booth. When approaching the counter, Sam caught Saras attention, and you went back to cutting pancakes, trying to not be obvious watching from the corner of your eye. You could see Sam putting on some of his charm, a warm smile, leaning in closer.
Bucky suddenly fell into Sam's seat in the booth, grabbing a piece of bacon off his plate and crunching it. “Can't believe you two didnt invite me.”
“Shut up Barnes, i'm trying to listen.” you scolded him, taking a glance to see both Sara and Sam had their phones out, and appearing to be setting up a time, exchanging numbers.
“Oh! Is he finally doing it? About damn time. He's crushed on her forever now.” Now a piece of Sam's toast was gone.
“We made a deal. I decided to officially step out of training if he asked her out.”
Bucky looked at you in surprise, the triangle of toast hanging from his fingertips. “Well damn, the one time I sleep in, all this exciting stuff happens. What changed your mind?”
“You and Sam.” Shrugging a bit. “Maybe you two were right, plus it was the incentive Sam apparently needed.”
“Bucky, get your own breakfast!” Sam shoved back in the booth next to Bucky and grabbed his plate back from his friend. Bucky resettling in against the window, finishing off the piece of toast he had snagged earlier.
“Why? I got yours.” he snickered and glanced back over your way. “Sam tell you his name yet?”
“Mmhm, The Kestrel.” you chuckled and Sam shook a fork at you with a piece of egg at the end.
“It's a cool name, and I stand by it.”
“I will give it some thought. You get that date?” You change the subject, Bucky and You looking at him expectedly.
“Matter of fact I did, tomorrow night I'm taking her out.”
Bucky grinned, clapping Sam's shoulder. “Hell yea man, good for you.” Swiping another piece of bacon off his plate, the three of you continued on, the sun finally coming up to start the day, filling the cafe with easy laughter and the clinking of forks on plates.
#jtargaryen18s4k#sam wilson x you#sam wilson#the falcon#bucky barnes#fluffy#cute#amber writes#sweater writes#marvel#mcu
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Better Late Than Never
Characters: Steve Rogers x Stark!Reader, Tony Stark, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff
Word Count: 2.4k
Warnings: angst, fluff at the end, reunion
Request by anon: Hi there!! Just curious, would you ever make a one shot to the avengers reunion for your story pick a side?
Summary: After years apart from your dad, you come face to face with him. Will he hate you for leaving? Will he resent you even more? Or will he accept you back into his life?
sam’s wings for @star-spangled-bingo
tears of joy for @foundfamilybingo
Part One
Author’s Note: If you have any requests, please send them in! This is unbeta’d and any and all mistakes are all on me.
You’re good at your job, but you’re not that good. You take after your father--working on things building big projects, and always innovating new ideas. You’re not as good as he is, but you try to do your best. Sam managed to break his wings, so you tried fixing it on your own. He gave you enough time to come up with a plan and execute it, but as soon as that time was up, he needed to move on to someone slightly better than you.
After all, you have the Captain America serum in your body, so you’re more useful out in the field than behind a welding mask. Sam needed an expert to fix his wings, and you were slightly offended that it wasn’t going to be you. All he said is that he found someone to do the job, but he never said who. Even Steve, Wanda, and Natasha were very quiet about it, but you kind of brushed it off.
“Give me another chance, okay? I think I can fix it,” you beg Sam as you follow him around the Quinjet.
“Major, you’ve done enough,” he laughs.
“My name is Y/N,” you pout.
“You’re just below Cap. You’re Major.”
“Fine, but you need to give me another chance. I have a better understanding of it now!”
“No.”
You don’t take no for an answer and head over to his wings that are on the table in the middle of the jet. You whip off the blanket that is covering them only to have him drag it back on.
“Sam!”
“I said no. I found a guy.”
“Steve!”
“Y/N, I love you, but you’re a crappy welder and an even more crappy engineer.”
“Language,” you gasp teasingly, and he rolls his eyes slightly.
“We’re approaching our destination,” Natasha calls from the driver’s seat.
“Where are we going?” you ask and bounce to the window.
“Y/N, wait--”
Steve’s warning is cut off when you reach the window. The clouds clear to reveal the new Avengers facility that your dad had built in upstate New York. Your blood runs cold and you freeze in your spot at the thought of running into him. It’s been three years since you two last saw each other--after he made no moe to contact you. The last thing you heard from him was him accusing you of picking Steve’s side because you were “fucking” him.
He’s never made any effort to call you after you left with Steve.
“Y/N, we were going to tell you, but he’s the only one who can fix this,” Steve whispers.
You hear him, but your brain doesn’t register the words that are coming out of his mouth. All you can think about was the fight that happened at the airport in Germany. When you got in line with Steve and his team, your dad gave you the coldest look you’ve ever seen. He was so angry at you for not picking his side that he didn’t care why you did it or what you believed in. All he saw was betrayal, and all you saw was hatred and disappointment.
When the fight started, he tried his best not to fight you because even though he was mad, he didn’t know if he could hurt you. Then, the unthinkable happened. Steve and Bucky were racing to the jet to get to the place where the other winter soldiers were when you stood between them and your dad. He didn’t want to hurt you, but he couldn’t let them get away.
He ended up hurting you in more ways than just physical. Physically, you only had a bruised stomach and some cuts on your face. However, emotionally, there was a gaping hole left in your chest. Your dad saw the damage he did to you and he just left without another word or a glance in your direction. He just took off, and that was the last time you ever saw him.
The months rolled by, and you thought he was going to call you, but he never did. Those months turned to years, and you lost all hope of seeing your dad. It crossed your mind that you should be the one to go after him, but he hurt you a lot more than you hurt him. You couldn’t put yourself through that embarrassment and torture of seeing how you made him disappointed by coming back.
So, you never did.
Fighting with Steve made you happy--at least, that’s what you tell yourself. In reality, it provided you with a distraction long enough to keep thoughts of your dad out of your mind. Then, when the distraction subsided, Steve had already found another case to be on. It’s been a few years, and you’ve been everything related to misery. You miss him so much, but he clearly doesn’t miss you. So, seeing his new Avengers facility brought all those unwanted feelings back to the surface--the ones you tried so hard burying.
“You know, you could have told me,” you sigh and look away from the window.
“I didn’t know how.”
Steve thought about calling Tony plenty of times just to kick his ass into being with you, but he always thought twice about it. You were at a point in your life where you were almost at the peak of getting over it, so he couldn’t possibly let you bring all those feelings back into the light. You were just so sad and you cried almost every night for a long time because all you needed was your dad. He couldn’t give you the comfort you needed, and because there was a small possibility that Tony would reject you once again, he just couldn’t make that call. It breaks his heart to see you so sad.
When Sam’s wings broke, and no one in his group could fix them, he knew that it was time to go see Tony once again. There was no way you would be staying on your own, and he couldn’t think of a good enough reason to keep you away, so you joined them without a hint of where you were going. Ever since the big fight happened, they’ve all been looking at you like you’re going to explode at any given moment. They’ve been hovering to catch you despite you telling them that you’re okay.
But you’re not okay.
How can you just worry everyone like that when there is no fixing it? There is nothing they can do, so why bother them with it in the first place? Everything you’ve ever mashed down inside you started to inflate the minute the Quinjet landed. As soon as the doors opened, you became frozen where you stood. Natasha and Sam left the bird first with his wings in hand, leaving you, Steve, and Wanda left inside.
“I can take away your fear if you want me to,” Wanda whispers.
“No, it’s okay,” you whisper back. “Go on, I’ll be there in a minute.”
All you see is pity on her face, but she leaves your side nonetheless.
“Are you sure you can do this? You don’t have to go in there,” Steve supports.
“I do. He left, not me. I shouldn’t be scared to walk in there, he should be scared that I’m here. Does he know I’m coming?”
“No, I didn’t tell him. I was afraid he would say no to fixing Sam’s wings. Listen, he sounded pretty miserable on the phone. I think he’ll be happy to see you.”
“He was so mad at me,” you remember your last conversation that actually mattered, “like he couldn’t fathom the thought that I would pick your side over his. I just did what I thought was right—I still think that. He always taught me to stand up for what I believe in, and I did just that. I’m just scared he’ll hate me all over again. I don’t think I’ll survive that again.”
“Then stay in here. We’ll be in and out. I promise.”
“I’m sorry,” you sigh sadly.
You look down at the ground just as two tears left your eyes. Steve looks at you, and he just cups your chin with two fingers and lifts your head so you’re staring at him. He wipes the tears away with his thumbs as gently as he can.
“Don’t be. You’re not ready. That’s okay. I have to go inside now, but I promise we will be back before you know it.”
He leans down and kisses you tenderly, keeping it short. The feel of his lips on yours help keep you grounded, and you hold onto that comfort even when he pulls away from you. You keep your eyes closed for a few more minutes as if it would shield you from the fear. If you can’t see your dad’s place, then you’re not really there. However, just as soon as you open them, you miss the comfort from Steve immediately.
Why should you be the one who fears this place? It should be your dad that fears you coming here. He was the one who broke things off with you, so why do you feel like it’s your fault? You’re his daughter, and he is supposed to treat you as such. You’re not one of his friends that pissed him off--he doesn’t get to cut you out of his life like you mean nothing. You’re his fucking daughter; he is supposed to love you no matter what. It’s what a parent does for their children. Yeah, they are supposed to make you mad and get on your nerves, but you don’t get to cut them out of your life like that.
Why should you just stand here while everyone else gets to be inside? Maybe seeing your dad’s new place is giving you the courage you never had. It’s giving you a sense of what’s right and wrong in this situation. Fuck this, you’re not going to wait out here like some scared little girl afraid she is going to get grounded by her dad. You’re an adult, so he can’t punish you anymore--not like this.
You leave the Quinjet and head inside the place, impressed how it turned out. Your dad is an arrogant ass sometimes, but he sure doesn’t know how to build a beautiful building. Jarvis is no longer with your dad, so he had a new system put in place: Friday. The only thing different about her is that she has an Irish accent while Jarvis had a British one. Since your face is known on every server that your dad has, Friday doesn’t announce your presence. Jarvis did that with strangers, and you think that it’s the same thing with Friday.
This place is huge on the inside as much as it is on the outside, but you don’t have any trouble going where you need to go. The main room is close to the entrance of the place, so just as soon as you enter, you hear everyone’s voice come from the room. Despite being angry and pissed at your dad for treating you this way, there is something inside of you--no matter how small--that tells you he is going to hate you when he sees you.
You freeze right before you can turn the corner. The doors are open, so you can hear everything clearly, but you’re completely out of sight. Will he stare at you with disgust and disappointment? Will he yell? Throw you out? Tell you that he never wants to see you again?
“Thanks for doing this, Tony,” Steve says as Sam hands over his wings to the billionaire.
“First time you called in, what, years, and this is what you asked me?” Tony says and glances at Steve.
He noticed immediately that you weren't in the room.
“Is it safe to come home yet?”
“No.”
“Then, yes, it’s what I asked you to do.”
“Where is she?” your dad asks as he inspects the wings.
“Do you care?”
“Do I care? Of course I fucking care, Rogers. How can you ask that?” your dad hisses.
“You haven’t called in, what, years?” Steve throws that comment back in your dad’s face.
“Is she at least here?”
“I’m not going to answer that. What needs to be done is fixing these wings so we can be on our way.”
Tony looks at everyone’s faces and knows immediately what they are saying. You are here, probably on the Quinjet that just flew in, and there is a reason why you’re not coming in. He really fucked up big time. All Tony has ever done for the past few years is regret yelling at you in the first place. All he wants now is his daughter, and you can’t even come inside.
“I’m right here,” you say and reveal yourself.
Hearing your dad ask those questions pushed the doubt to the back of your mind and brought back the courage. Every single person turned to look at you, but you’re only looking at your dad. He seems frozen where he stands, unable to do anything but just look at you. You’re really here no thanks to him. He grips Sam’s wings tightly in his hands, wincing when one of the parts dig into his palm. Feeling that pain brings him back to reality.
He sets the wings on the table right in front of him before marching over to you. You honestly think he is going to yell at you or do something mean, but instead, he just brings you into a tight hug. Your arms immediately wrap around his neck, and you find yourself sinking into his body.
“I missed you so fucing much,” your dad says emotionally.
“I’m so sorry,” you cry into his neck.
He pulls away and makes sure you’re staring into his eyes when he speaks.
“No, you don’t get to be sorry. I’m the one who should be sorry. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have yelled at you or made you feel like what you did was wrong. I’m the one who fucked up. You’re my daughter, and I shouldn’t have ever let you go.”
He brings you back into a hug, and you squeeze him tightly to remind yourself that this is really happening. You look at Steve from over your dad’s shoulder, and he smiles proudly because this is the moment he has been waiting for. This is the moment that should have happened years ago. Well, better late than never is what everyone always says.
You and your dad have grown separately, but it’s time you grow together. You’ve lost precious years without him, and you’re not going to waste another over something stupid like last time.
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Baked With Love Part 2
Read Part 1 Here
Summary:
Bucky Barnes’ family owns a bakery in a small town. High school has long been over, and Bucky is dying to move to the city to pursue a musical career with his band. And his future looks promising, if he can just persuade his father to let him leave his job behind at their struggling family bakery.
It is no secret that Bucky used to love baking with his father, but things change. He just can’t fathom wasting his life away watching rising dough and hot ovens. With his mind made up to leave, Bucky convinces his father to advertise for a replacement. While interviewing candidates to fill the position he has vacated, Bucky meets Sam Wilson: An easy-going guy who is as eager about baking as Bucky is about leaving. They bond over baking and become close. Love looks like it is ready to bloom between them if Bucky, in his haste to escape, does not ruin it.
A/N: Part 1 didn’t have a lot of interest and I’m honestly bummed about it, but here’s Part 2 for those who did enjoy it. Meet-cute, maybe?
“Come on, Sam!” called Misty as she and Riley waited on the sofa. “How long does it take to microwave some popcorn?”
Sam rolled his eyes and shouted back from the kitchen, “I’m not microwaving it. I’m cookin’ it in a heated pan.”
Riley smiled and Misty got up from where she was seated to make her way to the kitchen of Sam’s grandmother’s house. She leaned against the doorjamb and folded her arms. Sam turned to look at her, flashing his bright smile.
“You mean to tell me you’re in here cooking the popcorn yourself?” she queried with a raised eyebrow.
Sam shrugged and replied, “Yeah, of course. It tastes better done this way. I can throw in the sea salt and add as much butter as I like. Trust me, you’re gonna love it.”
“Okay, Sammy,” she replied, pushing off the doorframe and backing away. “You’re lucky I trust you.”
…..
The movie was a quarter of the way through and Misty was begging Sam for more popcorn.
“Please, it’s so good. What’d you do to it? I knew you could cook, but damn. You’re even good at popcorn?”
Sam let out an amused laugh and took the empty bowl from his friend.
“It’s different than waiting to use one of the microwaves at the dorms,” said Sam as he sauntered into the kitchen to make some more of the snack for him and his friends. “That’s one thing I don’t miss about school: Having no place to actually cook decent meals.”
“You must be lovin’ it here, then,” said Riley.
“I am. Got the whole kitchen to myself,” said Sam with a somewhat sad little smile.
The movie was long finished, and the three friends lounged about talking.
“I’ve missed this,” Misty proffered. “Us hanging out together.”
“Me, too,” said Sam. “And I miss school, but I needed to do this. I needed to take this time off. And it’s been good. I’m gonna start looking for work, get settled in, and really make the most of it.”
“Find work?” asked Riley with a frown. “How long are you gonna be here, Sam?”
Sam shrugged his shoulders, tilted his head to the side, and said, “Dunno. As long as it takes.”
“What exactly is it?”
“This feeling inside,” Sam tried to explain. “This feeling of being restless and not enjoying things. It’s like, after Gramma passed away, I didn’t feel the same joy for school or cooking or anything like that. I needed to come back here. I hope bein’ here can help me find the joy again, if that makes sense.”
Misty leaned her head on Sam’s shoulder and then said, “It makes perfect sense, baby boy.”
Sam placed his head against hers and smiled.
“Well,” said Misty with a yawn. “I’m gonna head off to bed.”
“You need me to show you?” asked Sam.
“Nah, I got it,” she replied, looking at him and then Riley. “You two have a good night.”
She walked away and then said, “And don’t be too noisy.”
Sam and Riley got through the first half of a well-watched sitcom before Riley spoke up.
“Sammy?”
“Hmm?”
“I’ve missed you.”
Sam turned to look at his ex, proffered a gentle smile and said, “Yeah, I’ve missed you, too.”
Riley returned the grin and then leaned in. His lips came close to Sam’s just before the other man pulled away.
“Woah. Riley? What? What’re you doin’?”
“I – I thought…”
“No,” said Sam as he shifted away.
“I thought me coming here meant –”
“That we were getting back together?”
“Yeah.”
“No. That’s not it at all,” Sam explained, as he stood from where he was sitting. “Nothing’s changed. We’re not getting back together. We talked about this. It was good for a while, but I can’t deal with your clinginess and gaslighting. When I called you out on how you were acting, you blamed me, and that’s not cool. I love you, but we’re not gonna work like that.”
“I know,” said Riley, as he searched Sam’s eyes. “I just thought that with some time apart, we could make it work.”
“It’s not gonna work. You’ve got your issues, and I’ll be your friend, but that’s all I can be. And I’m not here to work out your issues for you, Riley. You understand that, right?”
Riley let his head drop and then said, “I know. I know. I just care about you.”
“And I care about you, too,” said Sam, as he sat back down. “But not like that. Not anymore. I can be your friend, but that’s it. You know that.”
A beat of silence passed between them before Riley lifted his gaze and said, “Yeah, I know. I get it. I do.”
Sam offered a nod of his head and said, “Okay.”
Riley tried to smile back at Sam as he said, softly, “Okay.”
Bucky was excited and pleased that his father had actually agreed to his proposal about hiring someone else to help out at the Bakery. They had put the adverts out and had a decent response. Presently, both father and son were interviewing those who had applied for the job. It was slow going, and, if Bucky was being completely honest, the candidates were not the best.
The first person he interviewed had no experience at all, and while George wanted to help them out with steady work, they just didn’t have the skillset he was looking for. The second interviewee said outright that they didn’t like waking up early. That would be a problem, considering a baker needed to arrive early to start baking. The third had no idea what the job entailed; they were just throwing job applications out into the universe and hoping for the best. The next asked if free pastries were part of the job. The rest were just not right, plain and simple. Bucky was disappointed and his father was tired.
As George cleared away the applications from the table in the back of the bakery. He filed them away and then returned to where his son was seated, head in his hands.
“We tried, Buck,” said George, as he placed a hand to his shoulder. “Sorry, honey. You had a good idea, it just didn’t work.”
Bucky shrugged and said, “Thanks for letting me try. I’m gonna close up and then go hang out with Steve and the guys.”
He then stood and walked out to the front of the shop to lock up.
“How am I ever gonna leave this place?” asked Bucky as T’Challa, Steve, and Okoye gave him sympathetic looks.
“It’ll happen,” said Okoye.
“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “We’ll find an apartment, soon, and then we’ll be outta here.”
“You know it’s not the end of the world, right?” T’Challa asked.
“I know,” Bucky replied. “I’m just ready to leave. I’m ready for all the gigs we’re gonna play. I’m ready to get out here.”
“True, but we gotta be realistic,” Steve added. “It’ll happen, but it’ll take time. There’s no need to rush.”
“That’s easy for you to say, Stevie,” Bucky replied, feeling crestfallen. “You have options. For me, it’s either stay here and make bread for the rest of my life, or finally try to make this music thing work. That’s it. That’s all I got.”
“Buck –”
“Don’t,” said Bucky as he stood to leave. “I’m gonna go home.”
With that, he made his way toward the exit.
It wasn’t too late by the time Bucky made it home. He searched his pockets for the house keys and then realised his phone wasn’t there. He cursed under his breath and then remembered that he left the device in the Bakery. Sighing loudly, Bucky made his way down to the shop.
He switched on the lights and found the device sitting atop the counter in the front of the Bakery. He leaned against the counter a beat, checked for messages, and then placed the phone securely in his pocket. Out of habit, he walked to the front door to make sure it was locked. Just then, Bucky was startled by a figure on the other side of the door. A friendly face smiled at him and then waved. Bucky vaguely recognized the young man on the other side of the glass. He unlocked the door and then peered out.
“Hey, sorry, we’re closed,” said Bucky, taking in the man’s appearance; he was possibly the cutest guy Bucky had ever seen in his life.
The guy held up a job application and said, “Sorry, but I ah, I heard there was a job going here?”
Bucky found himself staring a moment, before coming to his senses and saying, “Yeah, but uh, you’re gonna have to come back when we’re open.”
“Okay, cool,” said the stranger, flashing a bashful smile.
“Cool,” Bucky replied, at a loss for words and completely struck by the gorgeous face staring back at him.
“I’m Sam, by the way,” the other young man said. “I think I saw you the other day on your scooter.”
Bucky smiled coyly and ran his hand through his hair, “Yeah, that was me. I uh noticed you, too.”
“Cool, well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yeah, man. Tomorrow.”
The pair held one another’s gaze a moment longer as Sam began to back away.
“Wait!” Bucky called out, stopping Sam in his tracks.
“Yeah?” Sam asked, placing his free hand in his pocket.
Bucky cleared his throat and then asked, “Why do you want this job?”
Sam’s face lit up at the question and Bucky thought his heart had stopped beating.
“I just really love to cook,” Sam explained. “Baking especially. I’m going to culinary school, actually; that’s how much I love it. I’m taking a break to sort some things out right now. But I want this job because I can do something I love while I figure things out.”
Bucky gave him a gentle smile and said, “Hey, that’s really nice. We could use someone like you. I mean, it ain’t up to me, but you’re already like a hundred times better than the other applicants.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, dude,” said Bucky as he marvelled at Sam’s pretty brown eyes. “Come back first thing tomorrow and we’ll see what happens.”
“Thanks, man. I appreciate the chance. See you tomorrow,” said Sam as he flashed a bright beam at the other man.
“Yeah,” said Bucky as his tummy did a hundred little flips at the sight of Sam’s smile. “See you soon.”
#sambucky#sambucky fanfiction#siancore: baked with love#awww i honestly think this might be a flop :(#i dunno i dunno i dunno#shall post to ao3 later
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Empty Gold Part III of III (Part I) (Part II)
Pairing - Steve Rogers x Reader
Summary - You wake up from being dusted only to find Steve ready to take on an entire army by himself. Looks like it’s time to save the world again. And will you ever get that date?
Word Count - 4,185
Warnings - None really. This does take place during Endgame so a couple of deaths are mentioned, and there is general sadness, but it ends on a fluffy note.
My mouth filled with dirt as I gasped, my fingers clutched the damp earth between them, and the smell of grass invaded my senses. I coughed and pushed myself up on my hands, but my arms were so weak I collapsed again.
“Hey, take it easy darling, I got you.” A voice said, and I felt a strong arm wrap around me, pulling me upright and face to face with Bucky Barnes. A not dusted version.
“Bucky . . . what the hell happened?” I asked, wiping some of the dirt and grass from my face.
“Hell if I know.” Bucky replied, looking around us where bodies were appearing left and right, all looking as confused as us. “Last thing I remember was -”
“You turned to dust.” I answered as memories started to flood back to me. I remembered watching as Bucky disappeared, Steve going over to him, and then . . . “I did too.” There had been another person in this area though, and I still remember the haunted look on his face as he had watched me disappear. “Bucky, where’s Steve?” I said, glancing around for any sight of him.
Bucky stood up, grabbing my elbow and helping me up as well. “I don’t know.”
“Hey! You two okay?” Another voice called, and we turned around to see Sam rushing towards us. I immediately wrapped the man in a hug, happy to see another familiar face.
“Will be, as soon as we can find Steve,” I replied. Where the hell could he be? Was he dusted too? Why wasn’t he here? If he was dusted, how could he not be back now? “Sam where -”
Before I could say another word, we watched in amazement as a large golden circle appeared in front of us and a man stepped out of it. “Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes, Y/N Y/L/N, Captain Rogers needs your help.”
“Where the hell is he?” Bucky asked.
“I’ll take you to him, but you might want to let him know you’re coming.” He replied.
Let him know? How would we - “Sam! The coms!”
Sam nodded. “Cap, you hear me?”
Would they work? Were we too far away? Where the hell was he anyway? I stood by Sam and Bucky’s side as people began to surround us, Wakandian fighters and their King himself with Shuri and Okoye while more men began making golden circles. What the actual hell . . .
There was no response.
“Cap, it’s Sam. Can you hear me?” Sam tried again.
My heart began pounding, heavy in my chest. Was he okay? They said he was still alive . . . I watched as the man who had appeared to us moved his hands and arms around until a circle formed, and a new image appeared in front of us. It seemed to be some sort of portal to . . . I gasped as I realized what I was seeing. It was the Avengers compound, and it was demolished. I was so distracted by the view I didn’t even notice Steve until I heard Sam.
“On your left.”
Steve was standing in front of an entire army. By himself, shoulders squared and ready to go to fight with a half broken shield. “Well, I’m disappointed, but not surprised.” Bucky said next to me, lifting his gun and turning to me. “You ready to kick some ass?”
I secured the gloves that Shuri had given me, making sure they were in place before grinning at Bucky. “For that man? Any time.” I replied.
Bucky returned my grin, and we stepped through the portal to the sounds of the Wakandian warriors’ war cry to stand behind Steve and Thor, our eyes trained on the enemy in front of us. “Avengers!” I heard Steve yell, and I glanced over at him, seeing a new man, a man filled with hope as he held Mjolnir in his hand. “Assemble!”
We all charged in unison, screaming and yelling as we attacked. Everywhere I turned there were fighters and creatures, some I recognized, some I didn’t. There were so many emotions as we all fought for our lives, fear, anger, determination, all of them were driving us. Of course there was another emotion driving me too, and I fought my way over until I found the cause of it, taking care of the alien he was fighting with a careful beam.
He glanced up in surprise, then froze when he saw me. My heart, already accelerated from the fight, kicked up even more at the expression on his face. It was filled with not only relief, but adoration as well. “Y/N.” Was all he said, his voice breathless with exertion.
I smiled at him, never so happy to see him before in my life. “You are going to shower before our date, right? You’re a little dirty, Rogers, and not the good kind.”
He ran towards me, and I met him in the middle, throwing my arms and legs around him as he lifted me up in the air and held me tight against his chest. “We did it. You’re here.” I heard him murmur against my shoulder.
“Yeah, Steve, I am,” I held his face in my hands, making him look at me, “And I’m not going anywhere again, because we’re going to kick this purple alien’s ass this time. And we’ll talk about you facing his entire army by yourself later.”
Steve laughed as he sat me down. “You’re right. Let’s kick this guy’s ass.”
The things I saw in the next few moments were amazing and terrible. So much death and so much power I couldn’t keep track of anything or anyone for long. All I could do was fight and try to live. I was tired, bruised and bloody, but I knew I had to keep going. If not for myself, than for everyone else.
I didn’t even realize what had happened until I plunged my fist into nothing but dust. Glancing around in shock, I watched as Thanos’s army vanished around us much like we had before. That meant someone had to . . .
I started running to the last place I had seen Steve, my heart about to explode out of my chest with worry until I caught sight of him and Thor, watching as Tony Stark was surrounded by his loved ones and passed away. Not saying anything, I slipped my hand into Steve’s, squeezing tightly as I noticed the tears in his eyes.
It was over.
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Everything after that blurred together. Steve and a few others helped carry Tony’s body to a safe location, warriors from Wakanda were taken back, and the rest of us helped clean up as much as we could. During that time, we were told some of the things that had happened in the five years we had been gone. While it was amazing what they had done, when I heard about the cost . . . Wanda and I held onto each other with tears in our eyes as we heard about Nat from Clint. I had only gotten to know the woman the past two years while we had all been on the run, but I had looked up to her and in the end considered her a close friend. At the same time, I knew that she wanted to wipe out the red in her ledger and hoped that doing so had given her some peace. By the time dawn started to rise, everyone was exhausted and making plans for tonight. I found Sam, Bucky and Wanda, inviting them to come stay at my house, that I hoped was still standing after five years. They all agreed and thanked me, starting to gather their things while I went to look for Steve.
I found him ripping apart some of the debris from the Compound, his muscles straining with effort as he did. He was sweating so bad from his work that all the dirt and ashes that had gathered on his body were streaking down like a crying girl’s mascara. I knew what he was doing. It was what he always did after a hard fought battle.
My hand rested on his back, causing his movements to pause. “Hey, it’s time to go.” I told him when I had his attention, rubbing circles into his suit, and wondering if he could even feel it.
He didn’t meet my gaze, letting out a sigh. “You can go, I’ll stay here and coordinate a clean up effort.”
“You need to rest,” I told him, stepping in front of him and holding his face in my hands. “Just for a few hours. Please? For me?” I pleaded, biting my bottom lip. He might have pushed it aside for the moment, but I could see in his eyes how exhausted he was.
After a moment of staring into my eyes, he nodded.
I took his hand, leading him over to the others were waiting. We managed to get one of the magicians, or whatever they were, to open a portal for us, and I was pleased to see my house still there. It was in rough condition after being so long without attention, but it was workable. I took Steve upstairs and showed him where the shower was while I went to take care of the others, taking them to the downstairs bathroom and setting up the guest bedrooms. I also managed to find some old clothes of my fathers for the men and some of mine for Wanda. No one was in much of a mood to talk and seemed to want to rest, so I let them be.
Once I had laid some sweats and a t-shirt in the bathroom for Steve, I changed into some pajamas of my own, waiting for him to come out. I couldn’t help but feel at a loss here. I hadn’t known Tony Stark very well. We had only met for a brief moment at the fight in the airport when I fought with Steve. I knew that Steve’s relationship with the man was much more complicated. While they had fought, I was sure that Steve considered him a close friend. It left me unsure on how to comfort him.
The bathroom door opened and Steve came out, clean and looking better. At least physically. In his eyes there was still so much pain that I couldn’t begin to fathom. I held out my hands to him and used them to help pull him on my bed. He gathered me into his arms as soon as his back hit the bed, and I nuzzled myself into his shoulder and neck. There was nothing I could say to help him through this, I knew that. So I let him hold me, his face buried in my hair as his chest moved up and down with a sigh.
There was no way to tell how long we laid there like that before he spoke. “It should have been me. He had a family. He had Pepper, he had Peter, he has a daughter, Y/N. A daughter who’s going to grow up without a father now.”
I tightened my grip on him. It was selfish of me I knew, but I was glad it hadn’t been him. “From what you’ve told me about Tony, he wasn’t the type to do something he didn’t want to do.” I pressed a gentle kiss against the skin of his neck. “It’s terrible, and unfair, and . . . cruel that he had to go like that. But I also think that if he had to go, that was probably the way he wanted to. Saving the universe for his family. That includes you.” I said, tilting my head up to look at him.
My eyes closed as Steve’s hand ran through my hair, and he brushed a kiss to my forehead. We lay in silence for a few moments once again until he spoke again. “I never gave up on getting you back. I want you to know that.”
“It would be okay if you had. Five years is a long time -” Would it break my heart? Yes, but I would understand.
“I didn’t,” Steve said before I could finish my sentence. “Even when I went back in time and saw Peggy . . . I knew I wanted to come back for you.”
I felt tears start to build up in my eyes at his words. I knew how much he had loved Peggy Carter. The fact that he had chosen to come back and be with me instead of being with her was more than significant. “Five years later and still making me lose my breath Rogers. That’s impressive.” I told him, my fingers digging into his skin.
“It wasn’t five years for you.” Steve replied, pulling me back down to his shoulder.
“No, but it was still too long to be away from you. I can’t imagine how it was for you.” Really, I couldn’t. Steve, Bucky, Sam, Wanda? They’d all become such a huge part of my life. I don’t know what I would have done if they had all gone missing with no foreseeable way of returning. “Do you want to talk about it?” I asked him.
“Tomorrow, tonight I want to stay with you and be glad you’re back.”
I slipped my leg through his, entwining us even more. “Whatever you want, Steve.” I agreed, closing my eyes once more as his hands moved up and down my back, drawing patterns on it.
The exhaustion of the day had crept up on me. Much quicker than I thought, I found myself drifting off in Steve’s warm and safe embrace, my breathing slowing and my body relaxing. “I still haven’t forgotten our date.” I remember him murmuring in my ear.
A soft smile formed on my face.
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Two weeks later, I found myself in my bedroom while I checked every last detail of my appearance one more time. I knew it was ridiculous. Steve had seen me at my absolute worse appearance wise, so anything above that would be an improvement. He had yet to see me dressed up though, but I didn’t want to go overboard either. I had settled on a plain black shirt with quarter length sleeves and a scoop neckline with a light pink flowy skirt that had a beautiful lace trimming. I was wearing heels so I wouldn’t have to stand on my toes to kiss him tonight, and had my hair in loose waves. He still hadn’t told me what we were doing, so I hoped I wasn’t under or over dressed, but it was too late to go back now.
“Young lady! Your date is here!” I heard Sam yell from downstairs.
I rolled my eyes, but smiled a little. As busy and emotionally exhausting as these past two weeks had been, I was more than ready to take a little bit of time with Steve. Of course I was nervous to. I hadn’t been in any type of relationship for years now, and this was one I did not want to screw up.
I didn’t want to hide from it any longer either.
Grabbing my jacket, I left my room and headed to the stairs, pausing when I got there and saw Sam, Bucky, Wanda, and a well dressed Steve Rogers waiting there for me. “Really guys?” I said, rolling my eyes as Sam wolf whistled and Bucky shoved Steve with his elbow, grinning at him. As I walked down the stairs, Steve was the only one I looked at. He looked so nice in his sweater. It had a plaid shirt underneath with a tie and dress pants, but the smile on his face was even better. It had been a hard couple of weeks and seeing him so happy had my chest feeling warm.
“You look great,” Steve said when I approached him.
“You don’t look so bad yourself,” I replied, shooting him a wink. “You ready to go?”
Steve took my hand, entwining our fingers. “We’ll be back later guys.”
“Now, wait a minute here. Steve, you’re a good guy, but you better have her home by ten.” Sam said, crossing his arms over his chest with narrowed eyes, but his tone was playful.
“And Y/N, you’re sweet and all, but Steve gets real grumpy if he doesn’t get at least eight hours.” Bucky added with a teasing smirk.
Wanda rolled her eyes at the boys and gestured for us two to go. “Come on boys, I need help with dinner.”
“So . . . you haven’t told me where we’re going.” I said as we headed to my car parked to the side.
“I haven’t?” Steve said, feigning surprise. “I thought I mentioned it.”
“Nope,” I replied as he opened the passenger door for me. “So why don’t you tell me now?”
“I could . . . but we’re so close. Might as well let it be a surprise right?” Steve said, shrugging his shoulders.
I shook my head at him, little butterflies in my stomach. I wasn’t used to surprises, but for him? I’d deal with it. “If you say so,” I replied, but smiled as he kissed my cheek and closed the door.
The drive gave me no clues about where we were going. This was my hometown, and I know I should have some idea about where we were, but I didn’t and that made me even more nervous and confused. Those emotions escalated as Steve pulled off at a dirt road. “We’ve got to walk from here.” Steve told me.
Looking down at my heels, I sighed. “You might have to carry me,” I joked.
Of course he didn’t take it as a joke. He got out of the car and bent down in front of me, his back to me. “Hop on,” he said, grinning over his shoulder at me.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Steve, I was kidding. You don’t have to -”
“I know,” he interrupted, but didn’t move. “Come on, you’d slow us down in those anyway.” He teased.
Sticking my tongue out at him, I climbed up on his back, my legs slipping around his waist and my arms around his neck. “Don’t act like you don’t like them, Rogers, I saw the way you looked at my legs earlier.” I responded.
He shook his head, but his smile widened as he reached back to grip my thighs to help carry me. “I never said I didn’t.” Steve said, as we started down our path.
“How did you find this place anyway?” I asked, resting my chin on his shoulder.
“Morning run with Sam.” He replied. “I got a little ahead of him and found it.”
“So . . . Is it a picnic?” I said.
But Steve just smiled. “Something like that.”
It did end up being something like that. I gasped when I saw all that he had done and the place that he had found. It was beautiful even in the darkness. It was a small clearing right beside a creek that babbled quietly in the background. He had tied a hammock between two trees and strung some fairy lights up around it. Sitting in front of it was in fact a picnic basket. I slid off Steve’s back and looked around, still in awe of all the effort he had made.
“Is it okay? I haven’t done one of these in a while . . .” Steve said, rubbing the back of his neck.
I moved closer, wrapping my arms around his middle. “It’s perfect. You’ve already made more effort in one night than most of my previous relationships.” I told him, tilting my head up to meet his lips in a lingering kiss that had his hands gripping my face to keep me close.
When he pulled the two of us apart, his expression was tender. “You haven’t even seen the best part yet.”
I raised my eyebrows in question, but he picked me up again, carrying me over to the hammock and laying us both down on it. I made myself comfortable on his chest, nuzzling into his soft sweater and entangling our legs together before glancing up, my mouth dropping at the view. The night sky shone bright above us, the stars were clear and bright, something I hadn’t seen in several years now and breathtaking. “It’s beautiful,” I murmured.
Steve’s hand rested on my lower thigh, drawing circles with his thumb as he watched the night sky as well. “I thought so too.”
In silence we watched the stars, curled up together on the hammock and snacking on the food that Steve had brought, thankfully take out and not of his own creation. I was crazy about the guy, but he couldn’t cook worth a damn. After the past few weeks, this was the kind of date that we both needed. Something low key, simple, and was more about being together than the typical date. My feelings for Steve had never been in question, I had always known I was falling for him, I had put it to the side because it hadn’t seemed the right time, but this time together had affirmed them.
“Can I talk to you about something?” Steve said, interrupting my thoughts.
“Anything.” I replied, looking from our entwined fingers to his face, noticing the pensive expression on them.
It still took him a moment to respond, as if he was choosing his words very carefully before he spoke. “I’m thinking about retiring.”
That . . . was not anything I had ever expected to leave his lips. For as long as I had known Steve, he had been about his honor and his duty as Captain America to the rest of the world. It was something I knew he took pride in, but I also knew that after everything that had happened . . . He was tired. I just hadn’t realized how tired. I sat up, removing my head from his chest so that I could look at him, those dark circles catching my gaze. With a little frown, I reached up and brushed my thumb against them. “You are?”
He nodded. “It’s just . . . I’ve been Captain America for so long now . . . I forgot what it was like to be Steve Rogers. Until I met you.” I smiled as Steve brought my hand to his lips and kissed it. “Once I came out of the ice, I thought I would never have a chance at a normal life or a family. The guy that wanted that had gone into the ice. Then everything happened, and I got to see Tony with his own family and a beautiful daughter.” His grip on my hand tightened, and I could sense how hard this was for him to say as he let out a choked laugh. “He always said I should get a life. I never thought I would get the chance until you came back.”
I bit my lip at his words, tears building up in my eyes. “Steve . . .”
“I want to see where this goes. I care about you a lot, and I want to be with you. As Steve. Not Captain America.”
“Are you going to be okay with that?” I asked, squeezing his hand. “You’re ready to step back and be who you want to be and not who the rest of the world wants you to be?”
There was no hesitation as he nodded again.
“Then I support you. As long as it’s what you want, I think it’ll be good for you.” I pressed a peck against his nose for a brief moment. “I will miss how good you look in the suit though.” I teased.
Steve laughed, and it was the most relaxed I had seen him in weeks. “Well, maybe I can keep it around for special occasions.” He replied, sitting up a little so he could cup my face in his hand.
My smile was so wide I could feel it pulling my cheeks as I let his nose brush against mine. “Oh, you think so?”
His matching smile had my whole body filling with warmth and happiness. “Yeah, yeah I do.” At that point, he didn’t waste any more time with words, pulling me into a delicate kiss, the taste of strawberries lingering on his lips from our earlier snacking. Fireworks seemed to explode behind my eyes as the kiss turned more ardent, soft lips parting to explore each other more as his spicy scent wrapped around me in a comforting embrace. A soft moan left my lips when we parted even though I desperately needed the air.
“Man, you weren’t lying,” I said, licking my lips to get any lingering taste of him, still dazed from the feelings exploding all over my body at that kiss.
“Lying?” He asked, confusion filling his face as he brushed some of my hair behind my ear.
“You really did only need one date to convince me to be with you.” I teased, pressing a kiss to his palm.
Steve laughed then, and I couldn’t help but smile at the sound.
Maybe this relationship would turn out all right after all.
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Post Infinity War Fic/Massive Spoiler
Those Who Mourn
In the immediate aftermath of the battle, the Avengers, the Guardians and the Wakandans – or what’s left of them, can do little more than mourn everything and everyone they’d lost. Steve Rogers and Thor are not exempt from the realities of war and loss, but it doesn’t mean it ever becomes easier.
(a03)
Steve is in mourning.
They all are.
The entire nation mourns.
The Wakandans mourn their beloved king and their friends and families that were killed in battle – Steve can hear the melancholic sounds of their grieved chanting from outside the window. Rocket the Raccoon mourns Groot, his tree friend and from what Steve can tell; his closest and dearest companion. Rhodey mourns Tony and Sam, as Steve does. Tony, because no one knows where he is or whether he’s still alive. From what little Bruce was able to tell them, Steve at least knows he’s with the Spider-Man, the Queens kid with a lot of heart that reminds Steve so much of himself, and if that is indeed the case, then Steve thinks he’s right in keeping his hopes up. He mourns Sam because never has one person become such a rock in another person’s life or such a reliable and faithful friend as quickly as Sam Wilson became to him.
They mourn Wanda, a person who’s seen far too many atrocities in her young life and one snatched away too soon. They mourn Vision, a powerful companion and a dependable friend, and their love that didn’t get the chance to truly prosper.
They mourn the lives of the brave Wakandan men and women who put it all on the line without question and without hesitation.
Steve mourns them all, but most of all, he mourns Bucky. He mourns the Bucky he used to be. He mourns the man HYDRA turned him into. He mourns the man he’d slowly become, something of an amalgamation of the old Bucky he loved, and the tortured Winter Soldier who walked around with the guilt bearing heavy down on his shoulder. He mourns the person he could have become if his life hadn’t been ended so cruelly along with so many others. But mostly he mourns his dearest friend and the promise he’ll never be able to keep.
Thor, he thinks, mourns most of all.
From what little Thor had actually told of his escapades in the years they’d been apart, he’d lost both his parents, killed the sister he never knew he had; lost his home and half the people he was tasked to protect; lost his hammer and his eye all within a span of a few days, and the most recent loss he suffered was that of his brother.
Steve has no lost love for Loki, however he understands the strength of a brother’s love, whether or not their bond was forged by blood. He loves Bucky like a brother the way Thor loves Loki as a brother and Steve can absolutely understand the depths of that grief. However, having gotten to know Thanos as intimately as he recently has, perhaps he understands Loki a lot more than he did; perhaps he sympathizes with his motives a lot more than he was willing to do in the past.
Thor’s mourning is great, though he doesn’t cry, he doesn’t wail or scream; he doesn’t hide away to wallow in his grief but Steve can feel it rolling off his shoulders like a blaze.
Thor mourns as Steve mourns as they all mourn.
They lost the battle and the war and the price that came with it is too great to even fathom.
They mourn the dead and the lost, but moreso than that, they mourn the uncertainty that the future holds.
Steve has never felt such an overwhelming feeling of helplessness and loss and for the first time in his life, he just doesn’t know what to do.
So Steve Rogers cries the way he has never cried before. Not when Bucky’s screaming figure disappeared down the ravine on that freezing mountaintop. Not when he woke up in this strange new world and everyone he ever knew or cared about was dead. Not when Peggy died and took with her the last piece of the life he once knew and was so cruelly denied.
Steve cries for Tony and Rhodey. He cries for the Queen and Shuri and Okoye and the Wakandan people who put everything on the line to fight a battle that wasn’t even theirs to begin with. He cries for Natasha and Bruce and Rocket the Raccoon. He cries for Thor because he knows Thor won’t allow himself that one moment to truly and openly grieve.
Steve cries because that’s the only thing he’s able to do. He’s given everything and put everything out there on the battlefield and he has absolutely nothing left in him but his tears.
--
The nation is on high alert. People are in mourning but their guard remains up. They watch as the seconds tick by, every single one greeted with terse caution and wariness, constantly expecting Thanos to suddenly reappear to finish the massacre.
It’s been hours since the battle ended and night has fallen, blanketing the entire country in a still and terrifying darkness. Hours since the people left behind could do nothing but watch helplessly as their loved one disintegrated right before their very eyes.
Thor’s tight hold on his weapon never once eases. Steve is still decked out in complete battle gear, shields and all. At his side a sniffling Rocket has his weapon and Bucky’s cradled in his arms like a child.
Shuri is at her high-tech console, her hands flying through with speed, skill and precision befitting a great warrior; her eyes scanning through the information flashing past almost too fast for even Steve’s enhanced senses to make head or tails off. She’s looking for an explanation, a solution; anything to explain what had happened and how to fix it. Her back is ramrod straight and her shoulders square, gone is the childlike grin and the witty comebacks; she has her back to Steve and from his position, she looks every bit the sight of calm stoicism and composure. But every once in a while, Steve can see her body language stall as she reaches up to wipe at her eyes and when that happens Steve respectfully looks away to allow her privacy in her sorrow.
Everyone is on their feet a split second before the alarms actually sound, weapons on hand; their terror, rage and sorrow all jumbled up to create one indecipherable emotion as they look to Okoye who informs them that an unidentified ship has just breeched the earth’s atmosphere and is on a set course to land barely a hundred miles North of Wakanda.
They file into the Wakandan ship without word; Steve with Thor, Okoye, Nat, Rocket and a handful of the Dora Milaje. Bruce, Rhodey and the remaining members of the Jabari tribe were left to guard Shuri and the Queen and protect what was left of Wakanda.
They reach the estimated landing coordinates just half a second before the sight of a giant fireball comes barreling through the atmosphere, crashing into the ground at top speed and causing a massive quake that rattles the earth, decimating about two square miles of surrounding forest; leaving it a charred and barren wasteland.
Steve doesn’t know what to expect but somehow he knows it isn’t Thanos – it seems far too impromptu and unplanned to be him. He feels it in his gut and his gut has never lead him astray.
He doesn’t know whether to rejoice or mourn when he’s proven right and the familiar sight of Tony’s metallic red and silver suit catches his eye as it comes crawling out of the wreckage holding an unfamiliar figure at his side. Both look like they’d been put through the absolute ringer and Steve is willing to bet that very little of it is the result of the devastating crash.
The closer they get to each other and the clearer they come into focus, the more Steve realizes that Tony isn’t holding the other person close to his side, more like the other person is the only reason Tony is even upright. Tony’s suit can barely even be called that; whichever (small) section is still a complete piece covering his body is dented and charred and flickering with a constant stream of current passing through the destroyed system.
Steve hears Rocket’s shocked exclamation of ‘nebula’ though he can’t think of any reason to be talking about astronomy at such a critical time.
Steve follows his feet as it leads him forward. Tony doesn’t even seem to be aware of his presence – he doesn’t even seem to be aware that he’s actually on earth until they come within a few feet of each other and Steve finds himself breathing out a soft, “Tony.”
Only then does Tony finally look up.
The look in his eyes Steve can only describe as devastation. Complete and utter devastation.
When their eyes meet it’s as if time actually slows down for a beat before coming to a complete halt. But neither can do anything beyond standing there staring at each other. It’s as if neither of them could remember how to function or use their limbs, or even come to process the horrific event they’d somehow survived without even knowing what the other person had been through.
It’s Rocket that breaks the stale silence and brings both of them crashing back down to earth when he steps up beside Steve, regarding the blue skinned woman at Tony’s side.
“Nebula?” he repeats skeptically, only then does Steve realizes that it’s her name. “Wha-Where’d you come from? Where the other morons?” he asks gruffly. Steve doesn’t have to look down to sense Rocket trying to look past Nebula towards the wreckage, expecting the other’s he’d mentioned to suddenly pop up.
Tony shifts his gaze first, staring at his feet before Steve moves on to look at the woman at his side.
She doesn’t say anything, she doesn’t even react, nothing in her expression gives anything away but Steve just knows. It’s a terrible few seconds of anticipation, looking towards Rocket to see the realization begin dawning on his as well.
“No…” he chokes out, almost like a breath being ripped from his body, as if his entire being had just been deflated by the news. “Gamora? Drax?” he sounds out, none inciting a reaction from the woman. “Mantis? Quill?” The tone of his voice gets higher with every name he says, until it sounds more like a choked sob instead of an actual word. “No… No – No – No!” Steve resists the urge to reach out and offer him comfort because he knows it’s pointless. The only thing he can do is give Rocket space to process everything and maybe even begin accepting the truth of it all. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck this! Fuck Thanos! Fuck every goddamn thing!”
He begins emptying rounds from both his and Bucky’s weapon into everything in the distance and Steve doesn’t more to stop him. He notices Thor approaching him after a while and finally turns back to Tony, knowing that if nothing else Thor is there to lend him a shoulder to cry on. That’s truly all they can do for each other at that point.
The sound of Rocket’s sobbing in the background is gut wrenching.
“Tony,” Steve calls again, calling his straying attention back to him. “Are you alright?” he asks.
It takes Tony a moment to respond, when his eyes find Steve’s once again, they’re glistening with unshed tears. “No, Cap,” he says, without his wit and sarcasm and his usual bravado. Tony looks every bit what Steve feels on the inside. “I’m not okay,” he says, “We’re not okay.”
Steve doesn’t even have to ask; he heard from Bruce that the kid, Spider-Man had been fighting alongside Tony during the attack in New York and his subsequent absent was a telling sign of where he’d likely ended up.
The empty spot at Tony’s side and the air surrounding him that could only be one of a parent mourning the loss of a child is all the answer Steve needs.
“No,” Steve says, “We’re not okay at all.”
He takes a single step forward just as Tony pulls himself out of Nebula’s hold, catching the man just before he crumples to the ground. He feels Tony’s arms circling around his torso, his fingers digging into the material of his back and he latches on just as fiercely. For the first time in his life, he just stands there unmoving and listens to the sound of Tony Stark sobbing into his shoulder.
He doesn’t look around to see Thor offering comfort to a devastated Rocket or when he moves closer to Nebula and pulls her into a hug that she melts right into despite the reluctance everyone can sense rolling off her. He doesn’t watch them as she cries and as Rocket cries and as Thor swallows his anguish and his pain and instead casts an unreadable look out into the distance.
He doesn’t look around to see Nat and Okoye holding each other close and the rest of the Dora Milaje consoling each other and comforting each other’s immeasurable sorrow.
He doesn’t look at Tony as he rubs comforting circles on his back and keeps his own tears at bay.
He doesn’t look at anything or anyone only the smiling faces of Bucky and Sam in his memories that he desperately latches onto and keeps close to his heart. He looks back on the memories of Wanda and Vision, of fighting the persistent little Queens kid who just wouldn’t stay down. He remembers T’Challa and his kindness and the poise and dignity he wears like a suit of armour. He remembers the brave men and women who fought by his side and gave everything they had.
He remembers because the memories are the only things he has left.
At the same time he remembers the feeling of defeat and hopelessness. Of desperation and pain. The agony of it all. He forces himself to remember it, to think about it, to feel it in his body and his soul because it’s the last time he wants to feel that way ever again.
They may have lost so much more than the battle, but if there’s one thing Steve Rogers is known for, it’s for his persistence and his inability to just lie down and accept the loss. He doesn’t and he never will. As long as there’s breath in him, as long as his heart keeps beating and his blood keeps pumping he will continue the fight and he knows he’s not the only one who feels that way.
At his side, he can nearly feel the simmering of Thor’s blood under his skin.
It’s as he’d said to Bucky once upon a time ago, as he’d said to Tony almost in the same breath – when it comes to fighting and protecting those who mean the most to him – he can absolutely go at it all day.
The day of the war against Thanos might have already ended, but a new one is already on the horizon, Steve can smell it in the air.
He’s still holding onto Tony, letting him cry his tears onto his shoulder until he isn’t and he’s staring the other man straight in the eyes. His eyes are red rimmed and wet, but the determination in them is palpable. Steve knows his eyes are mirror images of that. A glance over his shoulder at Thor tells the same story almost as if he can sense the change of the energy in the air.
“Who’s already tired of being the loser today?” Tony says as he physically pulls himself back together.
Steve feels the tug of a smile at his lips and it feels almost foreign. “Took the words right out of my mouth, Tony,” he says.
He feels the prickling of electricity that causes the little hairs on his body to stand on end and turns to see Thor stepping up beside them. The melancholic air around him is gone; in its place is a wide toothy grin that’s become almost a comforting presence. His different coloured eyes however show a completely different side of the seemingly light hearted grin. The look in his eyes is sharp, determined and intense and in that moment Steve thinks Thor looks every bit the god his name says him to be.
The rest of their unlikely little group converge on the small circle they’d created just a few steps away from charred crater and the burning wreckage of the spaceship still sending clouds of smoke up into the stratosphere.
“For King T’Challa and for Wakanda,” Okoye says, twirling her spear threateningly between her fingers, “I want to kill this periwinkle son of a bitch.”
“I think I should call Clint to finally get off his ass,” Nat says with a smirk. Steve isn’t sure why Nat sounds so certain that Clint didn’t become a casualty of Thanos’s mass genocide but it’s a question he keeps for a later date.
“No one kills my Groot or my group of d-bags and gets away with it,” Rocket says as he struggles to wipe the goopy snot from his nose, likely sounding much more threatening in his own head.
“For Gamora,” Nebula says, pushing out of Thor’s arms and trying to pretend that she’d never even melted into his embrace in the first place.
“Great,” says Thor with a clap, rubbing his hands together like he’d just been offered a great feast, not a trace of his sadness or mourning anywhere in his body language. Steve had to give it to him. He thought he was good at concealing his emotions, but next to Thor he was obviously a sad amateur. “When do we start?”
Steve casts a look at every single face within their little circle, forcing himself to breath in and our as he wills his own thundering heartbeat into something more relaxed. He allows his own smile to form before he says; “Right now,” and that’s all that needed to be said.
They might have lost against Thanos, but they aren’t defeated. And in a fight for the survival of the universe, that distinction makes all the difference.
The End
#steve rogers#tony stark#thor#avengers infinity war#infinity war#bucky barnes#sam wilson#black panther#guardians of the galaxy#peter parker#reiven fics#reiven avengers fics#fics: those who mourn#post infinity war fic#okoye#rocket raccoon#angst#3k words#bittersweet ending
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The Timeless Yet Underappreciated Allure of Eva Green
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It’s 2006. James Bond, as rendered in this particular iteration by franchise newcomer Daniel Craig, is on a train to Montenegro as he prepares for his upcoming mission: a poker tournament, where he will compete against the notorious private banker and criminal mastermind known as Le Chiffre (Mads Mikkelsen). However, there’s one factor Bond hasn’t taken into account, and it’s the well-dressed woman in a business suit who elegantly sits herself across from him in the train car. But Vesper Lynd (Eva Green) isn’t merely the agent to the British Treasury that she asserts herself to be — over the course of the story she’ll become the first woman that Bond truly, deeply gives his heart to, as well as the first one to subsequently break said heart. Hers is a role that demands assertiveness and vulnerability, a captivating beauty with a keen mind, and someone audiences would absolutely believe capable of being The One Who Got Away, the woman all of Bond’s future romantic entanglements or physical diversions can never quite measure up to. With all of that in mind, it’s no wonder that producing team Michael G. Wilson and Barbara Broccoli, as well as casting director Debbie McWilliams, were drawn to a French actress who had only starred in a handful of films before Casino Royale.
For Eva Green, Vesper Lynd was the part that would cement her status as a name on the rise, but her acting career had begun just three years prior. With The Dreamers, in 2003, Green starred opposite fellow French actor Louis Garrel as artistically inclined siblings who become entwined with an American exchange student, played by Michael Pitt. The film was helmed by controversial director Bernardo Bertolucci, and in an interview with The Guardian after the release of Casino Royale, Green spoke about how both her agent and her own parents attempted to discourage her from taking the part considering Bertolucci’s reputation for not allegedly securing his actors’ consent (most notoriously with Maria Schneider on the movie Last Tango in Paris). Ultimately, Green stated there were no issues between herself and Bertolucci during production, and the end result is a film that unflinchingly speaks to her talents as an actress. She gives the character of Isabelle depth that indicates a sort of ageless wisdom in certain scenes, but other moments have her displaying naivety that reveals just how young and inexperienced she truly is. It was this performance that soon led to director Ridley Scott casting Green as Sibylla in his 2005 movie Kingdom of Heaven, a role she accepted only a week before production.
When it came to potentially playing a Bond girl, however, Green had reservations; she turned down the role when it was first extended to her, but reportedly came around to the idea after she had an opportunity to read the script and saw that the character was being written with more complexity than a mere sexual object. Now, 15 years later, it’s almost impossible to envision anyone else bringing the alluring and guarded character from Ian Fleming’s original novels to life on-screen. Vesper is the first woman James Bond truly develops romantic feelings for, and, st simultaneously, she is the one most easily poised to completely destroy any chance he has at finding love again. This potential is realized after her cutting betrayal and subsequent death. Green won several awards for her portrayal, and it was arguably this role that catapulted her into recognition. It seemed that, in spite of Green’s initial fears that she would be typecast post-Bond, only the sky was the limit when it came to future projects.
However, Green’s career since has largely consisted of smaller, independent films interspersed with the occasional big-name property. She has led movies like the simmering psychological thriller Cracks (which was directed by Ridley Scott’s daughter Jordan) and sci-fi drama Womb, enjoyed a short-lived stint in the role of Morgan le Fay on Starz’s Arthurian-set series Camelot, and was the first actress to inhabit the role of the witch Serafina Pekkala in the film adaptation of Philip Pullman’s The Golden Compass. She has also starred in a total of three Tim Burton films to date, beginning with Dark Shadows in 2012 (based on the famous soap opera), Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children in 2016, and Disney’s Dumbo in 2019. All three premiered to mixed critical reviews. These days, most genre fans likely remember her best from her appearances in the sequels to two action-packed franchises which both released in 2014 — 300: Rise of an Empire and Sin City: A Dame to Kill For. Later that same year, the premiere of a show known as Penny Dreadful would allow Green the chance to demonstrate the full scope of her acting abilities, as she stepped into the Victorian-era show to inhabit the powerful medium and clairvoyant known as Vanessa Ives.
Penny Dreadful ran for a total of three seasons on Showtime, and Green was inarguably its lodestar, despite sharing the screen with other acting luminaries such as Timothy Dalton, Helen McCrory, Patti LuPone, Rory Kinnear and Harry Treadaway. Her breakout television role neatly intersected with the path of another actor’s return to the small screen, Josh Hartnett, and amidst such supernatural threats as witches, undead creations and ancient vampires, the chemistry between Hartnett’s Ethan Chandler, himself a secret werewolf, and Green’s Vanessa made up for a significant part of what kept audiences tuning back in every single week right up until the show was unexpectedly concluded on June 19, 2016. Vanessa Ives is a tragic figure from the start, a woman whose power has made her both desirable to evil forces and the product of scorn, not to mention a target for those who believe a woman should not be able to possess that much capability. Watching the series now, it’s difficult to fathom an end result in which there is any happiness for her, but that makes Green’s performance all the more captivating, as well as all the more heartbreaking.
As hypnotic as Green is on screen, and in spite of the seemingly effortless gravitas she brings to any fictional part she occupies, her biggest and most consistent struggle is finding the next project that is worthy of her talents. Understandably, she has made attempts to avoid being pigeonholed into any one type of character, but since the conclusion of Penny Dreadful, most of her filmography has not quite replicated the conditions that made her such a dynamic presence on that series. Recently, she was cast in another Starz TV show, a miniseries adaptation of Eleanor Catton’s novel The Luminaries, and while her depiction of Lydia Wells, another role steeped in mysticism, has garnered her positive reviews, the common critique appears to be that she simply does not appear enough — which, in fairness, could be said about most of her post-Penny Dreadful work.
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Green is hands down one of the greatest screen presences of our time, and more people should be familiar with her filmography. Looking to the future, the hope is that she’ll be given a role that isn’t merely another quirky witch or femme fatale or supporting cast or in a project that is quietly released direct-to-video. Her wealth of talent means that she should have her pick of anything she wants. Perhaps with the announcement dropping earlier this month that she’s been cast as Milady in a big-budget movie adaptation of The Three Musketeers (reuniting her with her Dreamers co-star Garrel), she’s already taking the steps she needs to cement her growing legacy as an actress.
Do you have a favorite Eva Green role? What would you like to see the actress do next? Let us know in the comments below.
The post The Timeless Yet Underappreciated Allure of Eva Green appeared first on Den of Geek.
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Happy holidays @shayspencer from @fuckitimfangirling!
Summary: They're doomed, probably. He still wants that heartbreak anyway.
Warnings: Role reversal of sorts; pre-show/S1/S2 AU; alternative Salvatore backstory to fit the story and bc some things in canon did NOT fit Civil War era customs; bg DE; KC and SK if you squint; dark themes; abuse; bullying; murder; violence; underage not-quite-smut; dead and dying characters; angsty bullfuckery; mentions of suicide; anachronistic storytelling 💔🔫 = past, 💀🔫 = present (s1/2 AU stuff); de-aged Kai (b. 1991)
Grams makes her put on her nice dress, the one reserved for special occasions at church. It's pretty, yellow and red, and super fluttery - it makes Bonnie feel like a princess - but it's also too layered and itchy for the muggy weather. The AC in the old courthouse is down, and the windows are open while electric fans whir. The relief is transient when the rotating air cools her form. Bonnie, in all her seven year old discomfort, feels oppressed. Wearing so many layers of cotton and gauze in such heat is probably against the law. She'll ask Judge Kincannon.
But Grams had been stern and left no room for argument when she woke Bonnie early to braid her hair and get her dressed, so Bonnie suffers in silence. The older Bennett woman seems anxious, looking at her watch repeatedly as they wait for someone to arrive.
Truthfully, Bonnie is confused. They arrived nearly an hour ago and after speaking briefly with Old Sheriff Wilson and Mrs. Forbes, who quickly disappeared, Grams told her she would make a new friend soon. It was exciting news. But it's been an hour and she's bored.
Her legs kick the air in patterns. Left, right, left, right. The swinging makes them feel heavy and cold, like metal. Bonnie is made of steel, like Superman. She bet she could be a hero like him too, save lots of people and everyone would love her like they love him.
“Bonnie! Bonnie!” the crowd cheers in her mind. Her imagination is distracting, to the point she misses when Grams stands up. She doesn't miss the sharp swat on her shoulder or the side-eye from her Grams as she hops to attention. Bonnie smoothes her dress out and clasps her hands behind her back like they teach in school, and smiles pretty. Her knew friend must be coming!
Mrs. Forbes is back, this time without Old Sheriff Wilson. Bonnie can't really see him at first, because he's half hidden behind Mrs. Forbes’ legs, but then the police officer comes to a stop and Bonnie can see the little bruised hand gripping at her belt loop.
“Come on, honey,” Mrs. Forbes coaxes. It's the same voice she uses at sleepovers, when it's time Caroline, Bonnie, and Elena to settle down into bed. Blue-grey eyes peek out out from behind her, small face as bruised as the knuckles. The other little person is a boy, smaller than even her. Bonnie thinks he must run around a lot, if he has so many scrapes. Grams is always yelling at her not to run for fear of getting hurt.
The boy glances between her and Grams then retreats back behind Mrs. Forbes.
“No, no, Malachai,” the blonde officer states. “This is Miss Sheila Bennett, your foster mother. You'll be staying with her now.”
She moves herself so that she's standing behind the boy, her hands on his shoulders and patting soothingly. Bonnie can see the sling that holds his left arm and the patch of gauze taped to his head. His hair is buzzed short, to the point where she can see a scar zigzagging across the top of his head. It takes her by surprise and she can't stop the tumble of words from leaving her mouth.
“What happened to you?” the question sounds almost accusatory, even to her own ears and she flinches at herself even before Grams swats her again. The boy grimaces as well, looking down as Grams tells her to apologize. He swallowing hard and he looks like he's biting back tears. Bonnie is instantly apologetic.
She steps forward and tries to take his good hand, but he pulls it away from her. Bonnie doesn't pursue it.
“I'm sorry,” she says. “I didn't mean it. I'm Bonnie. Want to be my friend?” This time she holds out her hand, leaving the choice up to him. The boy stares at it and takes a breath and reaches out and Bonnie feels hope flutter. And die, when he pushes her hand down gently and walks past her to her Grams.
“May we go now, please ma'am?” He says politely. Grams looks between her and the boy - Malachai Mrs. Forbes had called him - and nods.
“C’mon Bon,” in her Grams’ voice, she can hear the implied try again later and so she follows dutifully behind, anticipating an awkward drive home. Bonnie's hand burns where Malachai touched her.
💔🔫
The drive is awkward and so is dinner. Kai (he asked to be called this instead of Malachai) is her age, but where he is polite and obedient towards her Grams, he all but ignores Bonnie when he can. When he must interact with her, his responses are short and he avoids her space like she's diseased. It's infuriating. He acts like she isn't there and it makes Bonnie’s temper flare. She wants to shake him and scream at him until he looks at her, says or does something. It's the most destructive feeling she's ever felt and it overwhelms her.
By the time her dad arrives to take her home, Bonnie’s fists ache from being clenched. She doesn't know why she’s so angry. He wasn't even mean - Tyler Lockwood had dumped a bottle of glue on her head once, the meanest thing anyone’s ever done to her, and they were friends. She shouldn't be so put out by Kai’s non-reactions.
But the anger is still there when she gets ready for bed, when her dad tucks her in, when she goes to sleep. It seeps into her bone marrow, takes over the fresh blood cells that enter her body. It remains when she wakes up the next day.
If Kai doesn't want to be her friend, fine. Bonnie will hate him like no one else has before.
💔🔫
Maybe he should've tried harder to be her friend. From Miss Sheila’s sighs and and heavy looks, Kai knows that she at least thinks he should have. But her perfect little granddaughter looked so pristine in her dress, like some sort of rose, green eyes pricking him like bramble. It was uncomfortable at best. Then she looked at him with something like disgust twisting her pretty face as she asked what happened to him, the likes of which she couldn't possibly fathom...Kai hated her in that moment. He'd never felt so low for what his dad did, never fell victim to self-blame, never thought he could have done anything to prevent it until that question.
What happened to you?
And shit (and he knows better than to use that word around Miss Sheila, he can tell how strict she is) maybe it was. Maybe if he wasn't what he was, maybe if he'd still been of any use to the coven.
What happened to you?
Joshua Parker did. It's not his fault. His dad was crazy.
Kai insists on doing the dishes, but Miss Sheila only allows him to clear the table because of his arm. He wants to help and his arm is healing nicely - it's his head that's killing him - but she hears none of it. When he finishes, the older witch shows him where he'll be sleeping and he gets ready for bed without prompt or protest. He doesn't want to cause any trouble. But sleep tugs heavy at him and his bad arm is starting to ache real bad along with his headache and he just wants to take his medicine and go to sleep. The faster he finishes his self-designated chores, the sooner he can do that.
When his head hits the pillow he decides he'll try once more with Bonnie. He'll apologize for his behavior and they'll be friends and when he starts up at school with her, she'll introduce him to her other friends and he can be himself without any worries about covens or merges or restoring family honor. It will be a fresh start, a new life better than the last. An adventure. Kai likes adventures.
His will start in the morning.
💔🔫
Joshua’s house is a gory mess when Jason finishes his walk through. He's back where he started, the spot where he found his brother attempting to beat his own son to death.
The Supreme feels sick, staring down at the small puddle of his nephew's half-coagulated blood.
He'd felt Melissa go first, then Josette quickly after. It was sudden and felt so violent that Jason doubled over from nausea and pain as he felt his coven members leave him. He'd summoned his Enforcers and the Board of Regents immediately then ported to his brother's house the second he was able. He'd been too late to save Joey and he'd barely been able to save Kai. Kai, his favorite of his nieces and nephews, whose tiny body felt so light when Jason had scooped him up. If it hadn't been for the boy’s shallow breaths and their faint connection, he might have thought his nephew dead like the rest. He can still hear his older brother's mindless, angry rants.
It should have been me, he had screamed. If you weren't an abomination, you could have made it right, he'd yelled at Kai.
Jason scowls at the memory. Josh hadn't ever deserved Kai. Any of his kids, really. His crazy older brother had been right in some respects. Coven leader was his potential birthright, but his own twin had died in a freak accident. Jason and Isla had been the spares.
But Kai was not an abomination and Jason would fight tooth and fucking nail to prove it to anyone who said otherwise.
He peels his eyes away from the browning puddle. Kai is safe now and the Gemini Supreme intends to keep it that way. Joshua is in coven holdings, preparing to be dealt with. Jason hopes he goes crazy trapped alone in the prison world he has ready for him.
For now though, there's an injured little boy that needs him.
💔🔫
He’s not able to talk to Bonnie the next day. She has school and he has a doctor’s appointment and a meeting with his uncle’s lawyer at the police station. The other man is a Gemini witch that Kai vaguely recognizes. He talks to him like he’s very slow and Kai doesn’t know how to tell him he has a prodigious IQ, that his dad’s break down didn’t erase it.
Although maybe his head injury did.
The police set up a camera and Kai answers all the questions as best as he can. Getting his head cracked open with bat didn’t make him dumber (luckily), but it made that night fuzzy. He can barely remember anything, just the fear and the stink of Joey’s pee. Even that memory makes him sad. He misses his brother.
“And where was your mother when you and Joey were hiding in the wardrobe?”
“She was with my dad in the room, trying to get him out. She was asking him to stop. She kept saying ‘calm down, Josh,’” Kai answers mechanically. He feels distant. Like he’s watching TV, but the TV is his body. His own hands don’t look real. The doctor used fancy words for it at the hospital. Trauma dissociation. Kai is dissociating because he suffered trauma.
He answers the rest of the questions like a robot, pretending he’s the Terminator. He wants to go home, back to Portland, before May ninth, before his dad hated him.
When it’s over, the lawyer thanks him and tells him he’s a strong boy. That he should focus on living a good life and that he’ll never have to worry his father hurting him again. Kai doesn’t want to know. Ever. The camera is off, so the lawyer blesses him and the familiar heat of friendly magic feeds Kai. The feeling wears off soon, but it’s enough to remind him of home.
By the time he gets back to Miss Sheila’s, it’s late and he’s started shaking. Kai falls in the older witch’s arms like the little boy he is and cries himself to sleep. He never gets to speak with Bonnie.
💔🔫
Kai doesn’t get to apologize the next day either. His head hurts and he’s sick from the magic being worked on him at a distance. Sheila explains that his coven leader is severing Kai’s connection from the Gemini Coven so that Joshua can’t track him that way. It’s for his safety, she assures. Kai still feels abandoned.
The boy cries himself to sleep. He never gets to speak with Bonnie.
💔🔫
When the connection breaks, it wakes Kai up. It’s very weird, like something he’s suddenly been dropped into ice water when he’s always been warm. He doesn’t like it. His back itches, feels colder than the rest of him, and it tastes like magic, so Kai gets up and goes to the restroom.
He has to take his sling off to remove his shirt and he jostles the cast slightly. He hisses quietly, rubbing at it until the sting fades, then he turns and twists so he can see his back.
There’s an intricate scar on his upper back. It looks like someone branded his skin with clock cogs, but when he runs his fingers over it, the skin is smooth and cool and sensitive to the touch. Kai shivers, retracting his good hand. The design looks very familiar, like something he might have read before. Kai racks his brain, but he’s tired and can’t think of it. It’s magic related, so maybe he can ask Miss Sheila later.
Curiosity satisfied, Kai puts his shirt in the bathroom hamper and goes back to bed. He feels better now, still a little sad, but he thinks tomorrow, he’ll finally be able to set things right with Bonnie.
💀🔫
Things never really get right between Kai and Bonnie. For that interim between when they first met to when they'd been able to spend more time with each other, the combination of Sheila’s initial focus on him and Kai’s dismissive attitude had poisoned Bonnie to the idea of building anything fruitful between them. Sheila’s refusal to divulge anything magic-related to Bonnie was another point of contention between all three of them. Kai disagreed with Sheila, but kept the secret, and Bonnie, nobody's fool, could tell they were keeping something from her, which led to her jealousy and resentment.
By the time Damon Salvatore swaggers into town with his bourbon and black leather and blacker moods, the animosity between Bonnie and Kai is a well-fed beast. Kai had resigned himself to merely keeping it contained between the two of them.
💀🔫
Bonnie didn't have a lot a people she cared about. She could count them literally on one hand: Elena, Caroline, her dad, Grams, and in some weird way, stupid Kai Parker. To some extent, she cared for Elena and Caroline’s families, but only in that they belonged to her best friends and were a part of them. Her relationship with every single one of her people was complicated.
Elena and Bonnie were closer to each other than Caroline, but they didn't always like each other either. Caroline was too insecure and competitive towards Elena and too dismissive of Bonnie. Sometimes, she preferred other cheerbots to them. Elena wasn’t coddling enough for Caroline’s ego and too often took Bonnie for granted. Bonnie wasn’t trusting enough towards either of them sometimes, because Elena was too selfish and Caroline was too controlling. Blonde and brunette both agreed Bonnie could be too ruthless or too passive with no in-between. They were best friend from childhood though, with a deep platonic love, and any of the girls would kill for the other two. It was a weird tumultuous relationship between the trio. Sometimes they were more enemies than friends.
Rudy cared, but he was a textbook workaholic. If Bonnie kept herself out of trouble and Grams didn't report any misgivings, Rudy Hopkins was content to give his daughter all the freedom and funding in the world. Grams was something weird. She was Bonnie's favorite person in the world, no doubt, but she was always lying to Bonnie about something big - something Kai knew about - and it angered Bonnie. At first, she figured it had something to do with Kai because whatever happened to him had been so bad that the records were sealed and the newspaper clippings had limited information regarding the events. Regardless, Bonnie had some resentment towards both parental figures.
Her dynamic with Kai was the most convoluted. They were arch-nemeses, their antagonism comparable to what Elena had with Jeremy, but worse. Bonnie used to do everything she could to get him kicked out, before she learned the timid truth. Over the years, they’ve had friendly moments, because he was Grams’ foster son and Bonnie was often at her Grams’ home when her dad wasn’t around. They’ve seen each other at their worst, in states no one else ever got to witness, not Elena or Caroline, or whoever Kai’s Elena-or-Caroline was.
But they were never friends. Bonnie can’t be friends with Kai, and he can’t be friends with her, and neither one can pinpoint exactly when the opportunity passed. No matter what weaknesses she sees and let’s him see, it was only ever between them. Bonnie had her friends and suitors who never stuck around. Kai had his little flings. None of their people were able to get in deep with them the way they got in with each other. So much of Kai occupied Bonnie, because so much of who she was hinged on negating him. It was the same for him, she could tell. There was no room between them for anyone else.
Bonnie cares deeply for very few people and she's not incredibly receptive to strangers. They tended to fuck things up.
💀🔫
Which is why, that Wednesday night when that bourbon-drinking, wearing-leather-in-the-summer freak shows up on Grams’ porch, she hates him immediately. Her mood is already at an all time low. Her Prius is getting a tune-up and because Grams’ works an hour outside of Mystic Falls, Kai is the one taking her home from Elena’s parents’ funeral.
Caroline had offered, but the blonde’s own absentee parent had showed up and Bonnie encouraged her to spend time with him. Between Bonnie’s AWOL mom and Elena’s orphan status, both girls wanted Caroline to soak up her parents’ presences.
Kai drives them from the funeral, says nothing to her and expects nothing from her. The air in the old Toyota is somber and Bonnie doesn't even look up from her phone until she hears him mutter “who the hell is that?”
He's squinting up at the porch, where a dark-haired man is sitting on the porch swing, elbows braced on his knees. Even in the dusky twilight air, his blue eyes are bright and piercing and focused on them. It unnerves her.
“Friend of yours?” Kai inquires. Bonnie wants to snap at him, but his tone is neutral and the question makes sense. She shakes her head in a negative.
“Let's go somewhere else,” she tells him. It's unlike her and Kai eyes her and turns off the car. She scowls.
Of all the times for him to be contradictory, it's when a potential murderer is gawking at them from her grandmother's porch. Typical.
She follows him out, sticking close. Bonnie hates Kai on a good day, but he's familiar to her. She trusts him to antagonize her, to annoy her, and hurt her feelings. She also trusts him to keep her safe. This guy? She doesn't trust him at all. He watches them watch him.
“Someone die?” he greets. Bonnie's opinion of him plummets more. Kai just hits him with the quirked brow. The Gilberts were a pretty beloved family - their funeral procession had been huge.
“Yeaaaah,” Kai stretches the word out. “Did you know the Gilberts?”
The guy's face does something weird. He appears mildly amused. “I knew some Gilberts, yes.”
His expression becomes serious and he stands. “Does Sheila Bennett still live here? I need to ask her something.”
Bonnie peeks from where she's been using Kai as a human shield and glares at the guy.
“What do you want with Grams?”
The guy assesses her, tilting his head and letting his eyes wander up and down her form. It’s predatory and makes Bonnie feel like meat before Kai rearranges himself between them. He's thumbing at his rings like he tends to do when he's agitated. The guy in leather smirks and answers her as though Kai wasn't there.
“Well, little bird, I'm in need of a Bennett witch.”
Bonnie almost laughs, but the way Kai's body stiffens in front of her chases off her amusement. She can see his default devious expression shift into something dark and angry. It sends Bonnie's belly to the floor.
With a grunt, the man follows Bonnie's stomach, crashing to his knees and clutching his head. Kai ushers Bonnie into the house, quickly following her.
“You need to leave,” Kai snaps at the stranger. “Your kind isn't welcome in this town, let alone at this residence. If you come back, I'll report you to the Council.”
With that he slams the door shut, leaving Bonnie with dozens of questions on her tongue.
💔🔫
About a week after Kai's banishment, his coven leader shows up on Miss Sheila's stoop. She lets him in with a smile, then leaves him and Kai alone with a pitcher of lavender lemonade and a round, blue tin of old lady cookies.
Kai picks at a thread hanging from his shorts. His uncle, feeling just as awkward, chugs two glasses of lemonade then plays with the cup. Man and boy peek at each other and are surprised to catch eyes. Jason makes a funny face and Kai chuckles. The tension eases.
“Kai,” the Supreme starts. “You know it's not your fault right? None of this,” he waves his hand around, indicates the general this. “Is your fault. Josh was sick and he heard something he didn't like and he snapped.”
Kai pulls at thread. “Dad said I was an abomination. He said if I'd been worth anything, the Regents would have let you name me and Jo as your heirs.”
Uncle Jason’s face gets dark. “That’s not really your fault Kai, no matter what anyone says.”
“If I was a normal witch and not a siphon, they would have said yes and dad wouldn't have done what he did.”
Uncle Jason grimaces. “Fuck Josh,” he growls lowly and runs his hand over his face. He looks so much like Kai’s dad (Like Jo and Joey. Like Kai.), it physically hurts Kai to look at him, some odd mixture of fear and longing hitting the child.
“Kai, I want you to listen to me carefully,” the Supreme reaches out and clutches his nephew's shoulders. The hold is firm and gentle and Kai basks in his uncle’s warmth.
“The Regents gave a conditional no. They wanted you to go through some intense training before naming you a prospective heir. Your dad was for it, but I vetoed the option.”
At Kai’s dismayed look, Jason wiggled his fingers under the boy's chin and smiles when Kai squirms.
“The training is very dangerous and an extremely outdated and prejudiced practice. The point is to overload a siphon with so much magic they absorb it permanently. It doesn't work. Most siphons die, slowly and painfully, because the spell leaves them open to all kinds of magical backlash, the constant influx of which causes deformities and madness. Do you understand? You would have been tortured to death by your own family.
“Trust me Kai, none of this is on you. Josh was sick. He was willing to let you go through torture and very likely die just for the prospect of being named heir.”
Jason ruffles Kai's dark hair. “You think I would’ve let that happen to my favorite nephew?”
Kai shakes his head. He feels happy and sad and angry and warm. He used to always wish to himself that Jason had been his dad. The thought used to fill him with guilt, but now Kai utters it without any thought.
Jason looks sad. “Me too,” he mutters. “But only if I just got you. No merge to lose you to.”
Kai feels...a lot. He launches himself at his uncle, who grunts, but hugs the kid. He pretends not to notice Kai’s sobs.
Jason strokes his back and stands, walking around and letting Kai cling to him. It's embarrassing. Kai’s eight, a smart and mature third-grader, not a baby. But he feels safe for the first time in months, so Kai lets the embarrassment go.
“No matter what, Kai, you've got me okay?” the Supreme rubs his back, where the intricate pattern adorns Kai’s skin. “This means you're safe. From the coven, the Regents, your dad. But you have me, whenever you need me, okay? Not just as your Supreme, but as your family. I love you, kid.”
Kai holds onto those last four words like a lifeline.
💀🔫
Bonnie screeches like a damn banshee when she's angry and Kai's tight-lipped disposition has her incensed. His ears are fucking ringing like bells by the time Sheila slips through the front door and takes control of the situation.
“Sit your behind down,” she calls after Kai when he tries to slip away.
Kai makes a face while his back is to her, careful not to let her see it. Sheila is a good mother, for all intents and purposes, but she's quick with discipline if she senses disrespect. It's mild to what Kai’s dealt with before, but she ran a tight ship that he’s careful not to rock.
“Now what happened?” she questions and holds up her hand for silence. when Bonnie starts up again about strange men, witches, and Kai being a freak.
“Speak up,” the Bennett matriarch commands him. Kai feels a headache coming on. He tells her everything about the visiting vampire anyway.
Bonnie’s obviously in a state of disbelief listening to him, except she had witnessed Kai drop the vampire with a thought. The mundane denial she'd been raised in wars against her nature and witch’s intuition. The inner conflict makes her waspish and snarky, to the point even Sheila loses her temper.
The fireplace blazes to life and the dining set levitates.
Bennett fire, Kai thinks watching Sheila watch Bonnie. Both generations of women are tense.
Instead of addressing her grandmother, Bonnie turns her attention to Kai. He's not even surprised. It's easier for her to spit vitriol at him than her beloved grandmother.
“Is this what you've been lying to me about all these years?”
There's a challenge in her eyes and a plea in her voice. Kai can't tell what she wants from him, but he gives her what he can. He ignores Sheila’s warning glare and tells Bonnie the truth.
💀🔫
Sentimentality and a sense of masochism made Damon stop at the bridge in the sleepy Virginian town again.
Mystic Falls was still a hole-in-the-wall, barely a blip on anyone's map. The grand return of The Comet was around the bend, bringing with it a slew of hatred and bitterness Damon had housed for the better half of a century. His grudge against Katherine Pierce had become a lifelong companion, his food, his bedmate, his liquor. Take away everything from Damon and he'd still have his hate.
His mood is dense. It settles on him like the fog he conjures and he thinks maybe killing someone would ease the hurt. It used to help. He'd find a pretty brunette and pretend she was Katherine and torture her to death. Soon enough the practice lost its appeal, but the indulgence of bloodlust was cathartic. Klaus had always encouraged it.
He sips bourbon a silver flask said Original has gifted him. Damon had been loyal to him for decades now - since the first Great War. World War. Whatever. It had been nice to meet another vampire on the front lines, to tell his story without any edits or omissions. To miss Stefan and have someone understand that depth of grief, how it had consumed him for centuries, how of course he could never forgive the conniving devil woman that led both brothers to their respective ends.
Imagine his surprise to learn that Klaus had also had it out for Miss Pierce. Petrova. Bitch wonder. Whatever.
So Damon agreed to work for him in pursuit of Katherine. The doppelganger had been his white whale, and he'd waited patiently for the advent of a new Petrova doppelganger. Imagine this surprise when that line guided him back to his hometown.
He almost didn't come. But he's already established that he's a sentimental masochist. Damon downs the last of his bourbon, stares out at the yellow DO NOT CROSS tape and orange roadblocks that wall off the broken bridge.
The night he ripped the human doppelganger out of the car...it had been his bad. He'd wanted to see her, wanted to frighten the family, have bit of a laugh before compelling them to forget the encounter. Instead he'd frightened them right off the bridge and into the water below.
Honest to god, he almost just walked off. He'd sped to the edge and spent almost two minutes just staring at them, wondering if anyone would come by and save them. When it became clear no one was around, he had dived in to save the girl.
Klaus would probably kill him if he found out Damon was the reason he had to wait another five hundred years to break his curse.
He pulled her out of the wreckage and breathed life back into the girl. Wet eyelashes fluttered and he compelled her to find help, that an animal ran out on the bridge and her dad instinctively tried to go around, driving off the bridge. He told her to stay safe because he was coming back for her.
And now he's stuck here, waiting for Katherine to show up like a mouse to a mousetrap. Waiting to give Klaus the green light to snatch her ugly heart out of her chest and for both men to get their revenge. Waiting until the Bennett witch (witches?) can be persuaded to lift Klaus’ curse. It's been so long and having the end in sight is a welcome thing. Soon it will be over and he can rest.
Damon is so tired after all.
💀🔫
He arrives after the kids leave for school. Sheila is tired and not in the mood for company, so she putters around inside before she finally decides to meet him. The vampire Kai described the night before is waiting on her porch swing when she steps out and Sheila pauses in her motions, facing him. He tips an imaginary hat to her.
“Morning ma'am,” he greets. “I'm Damon.”
The old antebellum accent he speaks with sounds completely natural on him, as at odds as it is to his appearance. Sheila studies him, her brow wrinkling in thought.
“You look like that Salvatore boy that runs the boarding house.”
He chuckles, seemingly surprised.
“Zach?” he questions, accent gone. “He's my great grandson.”
Sheila takes a seat in the rocking chair adjacent to him and indicates that he should continue. Damon licks his lips.
“You're not afraid of the big, bad bloodsucker?” he questions. His tone is something odd. Amused and apathetic. Bored and tempestuous. Even when he'd been hamming up the accent, he'd been both too distant and too emotional about it.
“I heard you were looking for me. Seems unlikely you'd attack if you need a Bennett witch to do your bidding.”
The vampire smirks, stretching his arms out along the back of the of the swing. His leather jacket sits in his lap, black like the rest of his attire. Boot-clad feet push the swing as he tips his head back, eyes closed. The gloom in his aura matches his look. Mighty handsome as he is, those angelic looks hid a soul blackened by the worst of human emotions.
“In 1864, I was doing quite well for myself. I'd done all a good first-born southern boy was supposed to do at the time. Married well, had a boy I adored, partnered with my father in the family business, funded and fought in war I didn't believe in, and came home due to injury,” here he pats his shoulder sardonically.
“The ideal Virginia gentleman, even though I hated myself for it. I never wanted to do or be any of that, but I loved my little brother more than life itself. I had few freedoms so Stefan could have them all. That's what older brothers are supposed to do, you understand.
“1864 was also a year when Mystic Falls was infested with vampires. It was quite unbeknownst to us Council members, but one of your mighty ancestors Emily had teamed up with a vamp named Katherine for one thing or another -”
“Safe harbor,” Sheila interrupts. “Suspicions about Emily being a witch were high, I'm sure you're aware. Especially after she turned down Jonathan Gilbert’s...employment offers. Katherine was to make sure Emily and her children made it safely to the Gemini coven in Oregon. She got the children there, by the way.”
The vampire stares at her and nods slowly.
“Noted. Anyway, Emily had made these nifty daylight rings for Katherine and her friends,” he waves his own through the air. “So they went undetected by the Council for a while. My own father housed Katherine as a refugee displaced by the war. It was during that time, she got her hooks in Stefan. When the Council discovered her true identity, she was captured with the other vampires with the intent of burning them all alive.
“Stefan attempted to rescue her. I attempted to stop him. But he was my brother and he fancied himself in love, and he pleaded with me to let them go. Said she was his heart…,” the vampire trails off, lost in thought. “I let them go, but my father was nearby and witnessed the whole thing. He shot us both to death rather than risk the family name being tarnished. Katherine ran off, saved her own skin - and your ancestors’ as well, I reckon - and I watched my brother die reaching out for a woman who didn't look back once as she left him there to die.”
Sheila is quiet. She can sense the anger brewing under his skin, but had Katherine not left the brothers, she and hers might not be here. She understands his pain, but it is what it is.
“Imagine my surprise,” Damon continues. “When I wake up in transition. Emily was there and explained that Katherine had been sneaking me her blood and compelling me to forget. I was to be a surprise for Stefan. Or leverage, depending on your perspective. To convince him to transition for her. She'd wanted him to choose to be like her, so he didn't have any vampire blood in his system when he died. But in doing that, she took my choice away. She left Emily behind to die as well - or whatever they had worked out - and your ancestor offered me a monster’s ring and told me what remaining options I had.”
“Why did you choose to be a vampire?” Sheila inquires, curious. “You seem to not be your kind’s biggest fan.”
Damon shrugs. “It is what it is,” he unknowingly echoes her sentiments. “I'd already lost everything - my father had spread word Stefan and I died trying to stop Katherine’s escape, so I couldn't go home. But I could have revenge.“
The silence that follows is heavy. Sheila absorbs his.story, filling in the gaps of his story with what she'd read in Emily’s grimoire. No matter how she turned it, Katherine’s role in moving Doris, Eileen, and Charles to Oregon had been fairly minimal. Emily had had back-up plans, which she wrote like Katherine had been aware of, so Sheila finds herself having a hard time condemning the man.
“And you need me for this revenge?”
Damon smiled coldly. “Why yes ma'am, I do,” he replies. The accent is back.
💀🔫
Bonnie ignoring him isn't anything new. Neither is her bullying him or encouraging her friends to bully him.
He doesn't know what he expected. This weird combination of making him miserable and pretending he doesn't exist wasn't it though. After he drops her off for summer cheer practice, she finally deigns to look up from furiously messaging on her phone to let him know Caroline would take her to pick up her car.
When she gets out, she greets Tyler who looks after her like a hungry puppy before turning a hard gaze on Kai.
Shit.
Kai tries to pull out but another car is blocking him. He's trapped. His car door is slammed open and he's yanked outside. No magic on mundanes, he tells himself right before throwing a punch at whoever had him gripped.
It's like six on one, but he refuses to be the only one leaving with bruises, so he doesn't bother holding back his temper. Kai is six feet, one-ninety pounds but the football players are all his size or bigger, so the fight back is difficult. He makes sure to nail Lockwood in the fucking face though. Jerk.
Tanner’s whistle blows and the players dissipate, leaving behind Kai and the asshole history coach. The two men eye each other before Tanner speaks.
“We have a wrestling team, you should consider trying out.”
Kai frowns at him. He can't tell if that was sarcasm or a legitimate pitch, but he doesn't care. He gets in his car and drives off, angry and biting it back.
Leave it to Bonnie to punish him for telling the truth. Nevermind his good intentions.
💔🔫
The next time he finally sees Bonnie, it's his first day at school. She's a grade below him, but she's one of the town’s three sweethearts, so everyone in nearby grades sat as close to her table as possible.
“Hi Bonnie,” he greets when he's able to push to the front. A blonde-haired boy eyes him suspiciously, but Kai ignores him. Bonnie, in turn, ignores Kai.
“I wanted to say sorry for the last time we saw each other. I was really rude to you and it doesn't matter what else happened, I shouldn't have been so mean to you,” Kai apologizes. Bonnie doesn't look away from her chattering friends. Kai's temper rises.
“Bonnie, listen to me!” he snaps, grabbing her wrist. Temper flaring, he forgets himself. He forgets that for all Bonnie's magic is latent, it’s still there, just beneath her skin, in her blood and part of her very soul. He forgets he's a soul eater. In his anger, Kai unintentionally siphons her.
Bonnie yowls, yanking her arm away, but Kai had thrown her away at the very first taste of Bennett magic on his skin. She looks at him with betrayal, clutching her arm to her chest. Everyone is staring at them in shock.
“I-I'm sorry. I didn't - I didn't mean to, Bonnie, I'm -,” Kai stammers. Bonnie interrupts.
“Go away! I hate you, just leave me alone! You freak!” At her outburst, the chatter picks up.
“Yeah, go away, freak.”
“Did you see what he did to Bonnie? What a jerk.”
“A monster.”
Someone grabs his lunch tray and dumps the contents on him. Someone else shoves Kai off the lunch bench.
“Go away.”
“We don't want you to sit here.”
“Disappear, freak.”
Food and wrappers are tossed at Kai, and he stumbles away, out of the cafeteria. Two lunch aids, talking to each other, stop him when they see him trying to leave. Kai says he slipped and dropped his lunch tray, and that he was going to the restroom to clean up. They let him pass.
Kai spends the rest of the lunch period quietly crying in the big stall.
💀🔫
She said no. Of course, she did, Damon had expected no less. Regardless, the comet is weeks away and Damon is on a mission. If Sheila won't do it, maybe her pretty little granddaughter might find incentive. He doesn't particularly care if Sheila gets the Council sniffing after his tail. He just needs the girls, the wolf boy, and Katherine, then finally, finally he can rest.
Through his ravens, Damon watches the Bennett girl and her blonde friend through cheer practice. The doppelganger isn't with them, probably still grief-stricken. They leave for the town garage and the blonde drops the little bird off. They make plans to meet at the Mystic Grill and when the blonde girl is sitting alone in her booth, Damon slides in opposite her.
“Mind if I sit here?” he croons, meeting her gaze. He watches as a familiar carnal hunger fills her face and her pupils dilate. Hook, line, and sinker.
It pays to be patient.
💀🔫
School starts. Kai is a senior, so his last science course is one of three electives and he chooses astronomy over psychology and forensic science. Kai’s had his fill of both over the years. Of course though, Bonnie is fast-tracked and an honors student. They're in the same class and Mrs. Galloway partners them for the course.
Kai’s still bruised up from two weeks ago, an ugly yellow settling under the bags if his eyes. Whatever. Prickwood’s nose is still splinted.
They get their syllabi and look over it as Mrs. Galloway explains the year long partner project. They're supposed to track the progression of a constellation over the course of the school year and make a presentation at the end of the year of what they tracked. And of course, because it's Mrs. Galloway’s class, she wants three written reports for the project, the first being a five-to-seven page partnered paper on their constellation’s history and the last two being individual reflective papers on the project that they'll turn in with their final presentation.
Kai sighs internally and considers dropping the class along with the other chattering seniors. He doesn't really want to do so much work in his last year, let alone have to partner with Bonnie. But Mrs. Galloway comes by with a cup of constellation names and a warm smile, and dammit she was Kai’s favorite science teacher. Physics with her had been bitchin’. Bonnie draws out their constellation and Mrs. Galloway writes down what they got.
Of course. They get Gemini.
💔🔫
A pretty little blonde thing opens the door when Klaus knocks. A frown mars her face.
“Who are you?” she questions, almost rudely. Niklaus is charmed.
Damon appears behind her, pulling a thin, black v-neck sweater over his damp hair. At least he seemed to be ditching his infernal jackets, Klaus muses as the younger vampire grips the girl's chin and makes her face him.
“Caroline, this is my friend, Klaus. Klaus, this is our host, Caroline. She was just about to invite you in,” he compels her.
“Please come in, Klaus,” Caroline says in that dreamy way compelled humans speak. Stepping inside, Klaus smiles at her and presses a kiss to the back of her hand.
“Please call me Nik,” he insists and gets taken in by her immediate flush. She'd be so lovely to paint. Damon rolls his eyes.
“The Bennett Matron said no, but she has a granddaughter on the cusp of an Awakening and a ward who also appears to be a witch. If she won't do it, I'm sure they can be persuaded,” Damon informs him, crossing his arms and leaning back against a wall. His eyes dart at Caroline, indicating to Klaus what he means by “persuaded”.
Klaus nods, then turns to Caroline, compelling her to forget anything she might hear them say and not to mention them to anyone at all. He tells her to occupy herself and she leaves them be.
Damon is staring at him.
“What?” Klaus asks.
“She'll probably die,” Damon states bluntly. “It's very likely I'll kill her at the end of all this.”
Klaus scowls at his friend. “I was just being friendly, since you seem to be your usual charming self.”
Damon shrugs. “She's a dead girl walking - what's the point in being pleasant? It's not like she'll remember.”
The Original is over the discussion and waves a hand, telling Damon to move on. The antebellum vampire reports everything, from his findings, to his confirmations, to his tentative plans, which they work through together. Klaus’ phone beeps and he answers without looking. Very few people have his number.
It's Elijah, informing him that Katherine has made contact about a Petrova doppelganger. The excitement in Damon’s face is immeasurable. Klaus soon ends the call and looks over his old friend and follower. He clasps his shoulder.
“Lay low and wait for my signal. Don't give away your presence,” he hands a stone beaded bracelet to Damon, who slips it in without question. “Let the witches think you left and wait for my signals. Soon, your hunt will be over.”
Damon nods, striking blue eyes practically glowing. He closes them off and sighs. “Just a few more weeks,” he mutters. “And it will all be over.”
Klaus heart breaks a little for Damon. But Damon Salvatore the man died over a century ago. In his place is little more than a vengeance seeking wraith. Death would better when it all ends.
💀🔫
It must be a year of bad luck, Bonnie muses. Maybe the town's chakras are misaligned. Maybe she should ask Grams and Kai, if they decide her worthy of any honesty.
She sighs, comforting Matt. She knows she's being harsh, but things are just so fucked up lately and she doesn't understand how two - maybe three, if her father knows - of the people she cared about more than anything else could lie to her face like that for so long. Maybe Kai, but it was unlike him. He preferred to hurt her with the truth than with lies. And he wasn't the type to use lies to protect anyone. He didn't care.
So that left her grandmother.
Bonnie almost wishes she didn't know shit. Ever since the night she learned about vampires, and witches, and werewolves (oh my!), shit in Mystic Falls had gotten so odd over the last few weeks and it seemed to center around her. First, Elena's parents. Then Tyler ends up hitting and killing a drunk and high Vicki Donovan when she wandered out of nowhere to end up in front of his speeding car. Matt is having a hard time looking at his best friend whom he both blames and doesn't blame for his sister’s death. Tyler's made himself scarce, wrestling with his grief and guilt in his own way.
On top of that Caroline has been acting weirder than usual, like all of this bad shit is just a pesky manicure that needs to be fixed and not, like, actual life and death.
And now, sitting in the police station holding a sobbing Matt, she overhears Sheriff Forbes talking to a distraught Jenna Sommers.
Elena’s been missing for 24 hours. No trace of her anywhere. Her phone, her car, and her keys left behind. Kidnapping is suspected.
Bonnie wants to rage. Apparently she has all this power, but she's never felt so helpless. Her people are falling apart and missing and lying to her and all she wants is to find a familiar place to feel safe. She thinks about calling Grams. Instead, she calls Kai.
💀🔫
Nervously, Katherine twists the napkin in her hand until it shreds. Her water, which she ordered for show, sweats for her in anticipation. She really can't stand Klaus. Waiting to bargain her freedom from him in a small booth isn't at all on her list of things she likes to do. But a small public diner is better than being alone with him.
A man slides into the booth seat opposite her.
“About time,” she mutters, looking up. Klaus smiles.
“I would apologize for keeping a lady waiting, but alas,” he indicates her. Katherine smiles tightly.
“Ha. Ha. I take it you found my information sufficient, then?”
“Indeed,” Klaus nods. “My people have apprehended the girl. Consider your debt to me paid.”
Debt, Katherine mentally scoffs. Choosing to live over letting herself be sacrificed for some stupid curse she had nothing to do with had put her in the Original’s debt. Only a Mikaelson.
“So if I leave, you won't pursue me? No revenge chase, no take backs, nothing? Our business is done?” the vampire doppelganger checks.
“Like I said, Miss Pierce - your score with me is settled.” His eyes flick over her shoulder. “With me, that is.”
A cool body flops down next to her. Katherine has time to take in black hair and clothes, pale skin, and flashing blue eyes before a butter knife is rammed through her wrist and into the table below. She cries out loudly, but no one turns.
A trap. Fuck, she should've known better.
“Hey, Kat,” Damon drawls. “Long time no see.” He slams her head into the table several times and the last thing Katherine sees before her world goes black is cold blue eyes shifting to a warm hazel. She almost calls his name, but then she remembers.
Stefan’s dead.
💔🔫
Bonnie can't stand her grandmother's foster son. Grams had gone out of her way to give Kai a nice birthday - taking them both to the amusement park in Whitmore, buying him a delicious mint chocolate chip ice cream cake - Kai's favorite, and gifting him with a plane ticket to Portland to visit family members who should've been taking care of him instead of Grams.
But he was ungrateful, and Bonnie can't stand him. He was turning unlucky thirteen, finally taller than her and about as sullen as can be.
His birthday is mid-April and it's warm as hell. Bonnie is sweltering in the eat, so she swallows down as much of the creamy Baskin Robbins cake as she can. Kai only picks at his. They're waiting for Kai’s case worker, and Bonnie has a mouthful ready to report about her “uncle's” living conditions. He's been extra snappish lately, escalating their usual bickering to all out brawls. He bruised her ribs, but she sprained his wrist - the same one he wore a cast on when he arrived almost five years ago. She'll lie through her teeth if it meant him finally being out of her life.
Kai's case worker finally arrives and she joins the for ice cream cake and pleasantries. She even brought a gift for Kai, a small collection of graphic novels that he must have told her he liked to read. Bonnie is itching for their interview. Anything, anything, if it meant he'll be gone and taking this uncomfortable feeling he elicits in her chest with him.
Her plan fails. His case worker is looking at her pityingly by the time Bonnie finishes her rant.
“Honey,” the case worker says softly. “He can't go home to Portland. His family want him as far away from his father as possible and the one they trust with him is your grandmother. He’s not going anywhere.”
Bonnie snaps. “But I hate him! He's weird and quiet and mean, and he creeps me out! Why can't one of his family members move here? Why does he have to take mine?”
The case worker softens. “Bonnie,” she soothes. “He's not taking away from your family, he's adding to it. Give him a chance, I'm sure you'll find that you enjoy his company more than you despise it.”
The Bennett girl is stubborn. She may have no choice but to accept Kai in her life, but she refuses to enjoy his presence. The next day she looks up abusive fathers in Portland in 1999. She finds a short newsclip about a man named Joshua Parker who killed his wife and two of his three children. None of the children's names are released so as not to reveal the survivor's identity, who was first in protective services, than the foster care system. The child's records were sealed.
Bonnie eases up on Kai. He's still a freak, but at least she has a better grasp on why. She'll let him stay. It's not like she has to like it.
💀🔫
Kai had picked her up from the station, drove Matt home, held her through her break down, then guided her to his room at Grams’ place. The older Bennett woman is out with the search party. The Sheriff had issued a curfew for everyone 17 and under to be home by 7 p.m., so Bonnie's sitting in Kai's room so that neither teen is alone.
He turns on his TV, leaves it on Chopped Jr, then goes downstairs to make dinner. Bonnie's hands shake. She feels cold, even bundled up in her warm PJ's under Kai's down comforter.
His room is cozy and masculine, shades of navy and light blues and soft greys and creams everywhere. Framed comic posters are lined up sharply on one wall, between two neat but overfilled bookshelves. His bed is in the corner opposite his nerd wall and his desk, the second largest furnishing in the room, is by the bed’s headboard, lined under his window. There's a clean desktop computer and game system set-up on it. The TV is on the dresser between his closet door and the entrance, which are both on the wall facing across the windowed wall. There's textured fabric everywhere, down comforters, knit pillows, microplush throws, a rough carpet rug on the wood flooring - it makes the room cozy. She's never really been in here before. It was an unspoken rule between them that bedrooms were off limits. His room is kind of like a nautical watercolor, themed and clean. Bonnie smiles to herself as she realizes just how domestic Kai is.
Think of the devil - her foster uncle opens the door. He has two bowls of mac’n’cheese casserole and he hands her one before sitting at the desk and wolfing his own down. He says nothing, watching the TV as though having a red-eyed Bonnie Bennett in his room were a regular occurrence and not weird at all. Bonnie picks at her bowl - it's good, Kai's a pretty decent chef - before she sets it on the desk next to him.
Her adoptive uncle looks at her from his periphery. It's a creepy little habit he's adopted, watching her while pretending he's not watching her while she pretends to not notice. Bonnie's done with pretending.
“Kai-,” she starts.
“Not hungry?” he interrupts. “I'll go wrap it for you.”
Bonnie purses her lips, but remains silent when he grabs their bowls and disappears again. She can hear downstairs, but then it's quiet. She lowers the volume on the TV and waits. Almost three minutes pass. Nothing from downstairs. Bonnie glowers.
Did he leave?
She gets up and throws open the door only to find Kai leaning against the frame. She starts, clutching her chest. Watches him peer up through his lashes at her.
Something in her belly flutters and her pulse speeds. Kai's hot. Distantly, she was always aware of this, but it's disconcerting to push away her feelings towards him - the vast majority of them negative - to acknowledge odd truths like that.
“You leaving?” he asks her. His voice is soft in the hush surrounding them. Bonnie shakes her head.
“I thought you left. I was going to look for you,” she answers just as quietly. Kai smiles sardonically. Holds up his clocked wrist.
“It's eight-thirty,” he replies. Right, she thinks. The curfew. Kai straightens up and walks into the room. Too close to her personal space and she steps back at an angle. He follows. Bonnie stops when her knees brush the bed. Kai stops when his chest brushes hers. He reaches out and Bonnie closes her eyes.
“I'll scream,” she whispers. Kai’s hands cup her face. They're warm and large and a port in the recent crazy. She's fes safe, with Kai of all people.
“As loud as you can,” he agrees. His thumbs rub at her erratic pulse. Bonnie's breaths come in ragged and a heavy, loud in the air.
“I'll hurt you,” she mutters, finally looking at him. His eyes are dark and focused. Whatever he sees on her face must encourage him because he brings them closer. His lips brush hers, teasing when he whispers back.
“I'll like it.”
💔🔫
Jason had buried his sister-in-law, his niece, and one nephew two days after he sent the other nephew to Virginia for safety. Kai's visiting for his thirteenth birthday and the Supreme had wanted to see the coven members he failed before picking up the one he won't from the airport.
Three pristine headstones look up at him, the two smaller ones with dates that break his heart. 1993-1999. 1991-1999.
Joey hadn't even made it to six yet, dying a few months short of that birthday. Josette barely made it to eight. And the boy who shared her birthday? Jason can only hope he has many birthdays to come.
Sheila's calls had alarmed him. Kai was acting up, skipping therapy, flushing his meds, contemplating suicide. He was fighting and being bullied, one of the perpetrators being Sheila's granddaughter no less, although Kai never ratted her out. Sheila intervened when she could, forced them to spend time together, but fixing that relationship was between the kids.
Kai had a particular fascination with death and death mythology lately. It might have been a phase of it might be serious suicidal ideation. Either way, Jason and Sheila split the cost of a roundtrip ticket for Kai, so that the Supreme could spend time with his favorite nephew.
Jason picks Kai up and they go shopping first, because none of the clothes Kai has really suits his personality. Then they hit up Voodoo Doughnut and a Trail Blazers game and Jason relaxes when he feels the gloom and doom in Kai’s aura lift.
“What about girls?” he asks when Kai finishes telling him about what he likes about Mystic Falls. His nephew’s face falls.
“Or boys!” Jason rushes to assure him. He didn't think Kai was gay, but it's better not to assume anything. “Or whomever you like! I don't care! I mean, I care, but you know in support, not because I think anything's wrong with you or-,” he's rambling, but it's okay. Kai's having an uproarious laugh at his expense.
“I like a girl,” Kai says, still chuckling. His face falls. “She doesn't like me though. Pretty sure she hates me, actually.”
Jason looks over Kai, feels out his aura. It clicks.
“Oh damn, kiddo,” he says. Kai grimaces. “Is that why you never try to get Bonnie in trouble?”
Kai frowns. “No, it's because I'm not a snitch.”
Jason stares. Kai shrugs. “At least when she hates me, I'm on her mind. And she's weirdly possessive about me. It's better than her not caring.”
That….that is fucked up. Love isn't supposed to be like that, let alone someone's first love. Jason says as much. Kai shrugs again.
“I have her,” he says. “It's better than being Tyler Lockwood, who does everything she says in hopes she'll finally do something about his boner only to be disappointed every time she doesn't even notice. I'm in her and she hates it, but I'm there. It's better than every other guy who likes her, but doesn't even ping on her radar. At least she sees me and thinks about me.”
Kai shoves another doughnut in his mouth and Jason sighs, letting the subject drop. It'll either change for the better or get worse until it dies. He just hopes it doesn't leave either child too scarred.
💀🔫
Bonnie's mouth is painful on his and their embrace goes from warm to hot, and she's wet under him, then wet surrounding him. He has to slow down, first for safety (That safe driving slogan, “better safe than sorry” plays in his head when he slides a condom on.), then for consideration, because he hadn't realized popular, beautiful Bonnie Bennett had made it to her junior year of high school without letting anyone have her like this. She clings to him and his kisses soften from bruising to comforting when her tears come. He’s not small, and he never wished he was, but maybe she wouldn't be in so much pain if he had been. He rubs her back and holds her and when she wraps her legs around his waist and encourages him, he feels like he's finally come home.
It's good. Not great, but Kai's nervous and Bonnie's never done it before. He makes sure she cums. Touches her and licks her until she screams, just like she told him she would. Just like he encouraged her to. When they finish, he discards the bloodied condom and offers to run her bath. She shakes her head and holds him instead. Kai traces shapes on her back and closes his eyes.
“What's going to happen?” she says into the dark.
“We'll be safe,” he replies. She shifts, sitting up. Naked flesh moves on naked flesh and Kai's cock stirs awake again.
“How do you know?” Her green eyes glow in the dark like a cat's and he strokes down her dark curls. The sight of her like this makes him ache. Kai’s hated and loved Bonnie in equal measure for most of his life. He has no idea if this is her using him for comfort or her finally giving in to their weird chemistry now that she fears she might lose the people she loves.
He almost doesn't want to know. He certainly doesn't want to think about it.
So he tells her about his coven in Portland instead.
💀🔫
When Elena comes to, she has no idea where she is or how she got there. The house is unfamiliar, but nicely furnished and clean, if not obviously abandoned. Her head throbs and she assumes that's the reason for absent memories. Slowly, the brunette sits up and looks around. She tells herself to stay calm even as horror stories about human sex trafficking and slave trades come to mind. Checking her limbs and body over, Elena is surprised to learn that she's relatively uninjured and unchained.
Another girl with dark hair is slumped over in the corner. She’s looks like a similar height and build to Elena, reinforcing the girl's thoughts of human trafficking. Even her hair shade is very close Elena's own chestnut locks, the only difference being that the girl’s is curly. Unlike Elena, she is chained up. Maybe she fought. If Elena can help her get out of her chains, maybe they can work together to get free.
Looking around, Elena quietly makes her way across the room to the other girl. She's a few feet away when a voice rings out.
“Ah, ah, ah! I wouldn't do that if I were you.”
Elena starts, whirling around. A tall, dark-haired man with piercing blue eyes is sitting on a chair Elena is one hundred and ten percent sure was empty, just seconds ago. He looks comfortable like, he's been there for a while.
He cocks a brow at her. “She bites,” he informs her nodding at the form behind her.
“Fuck you, Damon,” a woman's voice replies behind Elena.
It sends a shiver through her body. It's eerily similar to her own and Elena recalls the obvious similarities she noted earlier. She whirls around and is nearly floored.
The woman behind her...looks exactly like her. Doe-eyes meet doe-eyes, one set surprised and the other mocking. It's like looking at a mirror. Or an identical twin. Except Elena didn't have a twin.
The woman mirrors Elena’s dumbstruck face. “Oh, poor girl. Not only are you not as pretty as me, you're dumb and mute too.”
Elena shakes her head and steps back, looking between the two dark-haired strangers.
“What the hell is going on?” she demands. The face-stealer grimaces.
“Not so loud,” she rebukes. “And you're a human sacrifice. Welcome to the not so glamorous life of a Petrova doppelganger. My advice is to go vampire and not look back.”
“Because that worked out so well for you, right, Kitty Kat?” At he man speaks up and stands. He moves to where Elena is and grips her elbow. She tries to pull away, but he seems unmoved, merely tightening his grip and staring at her unnervingly. His grip becomes blistering painful and Elena cries out, falling to her knees as she tries to get away. She hears the chains rattle behind her.
“She's not me, asshole. I'm right here. If you want your revenge so bad, meet your maker like a man and stop picking on little girls.”
Damon lets Elena go, turning his icy gaze to her... doppelganger?
“Hush, Kitty Kat. No need to act like a jealous old crone,” he sneers. Katherine smirks.
“No need to act like a jilted lover. So what Stefan chose me over you? Your brother was a man grown, not your child or your wife. You already had one of each, but apparently they didn't occupy you like they should've.”
Damon's face grows hard, dark veins filtering onto his face. The chains rattle again as Kat stands.
“You should act like your doppelganger, Katherine, and keep your mouth shut.” He smiles and it's not friendly. “You'll both be dead soon anyway.”
With that, there's a rush of air, and he's gone. The doppelgangers stare at each other. Katherine tugs at the chains but they merely creak in protest. Steam rises from where they press her skin and the woman hisses.
“I don't suppose you can grab me stiff drink, can you?” she asks Elena. Elena just stares and with a shrug, looks for a kitchen.
💀🔫
“Oh my god, I'm a South Park Canadian,” Bonnie says, pulling her sweatshirt back on.
“What?” Kai questions, amused. Bonnie shrugs.
“I'm an uncle fucker,” Bonnie smirks at him. Kai lets out a shocked chuckle.
“What?! I'm not your uncle,” he laughs. He's beautiful, but she is stupidly, stupidly disgusted with herself. Why, she's not sure yet. She strokes his hair and kisses his cheek.
“I don't know...my grandmother adopted you. For all intents and purposes, you're my mom’s white little brother.”
Kai laughs again, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her between his legs where he's sitting on the edge of his bed. He smiles up at her.
“I'm fostered, not adopted,” he corrects. “Therefore, not your white uncle or anything. No incest here, Bonster.”
She starts at the nickname. He used to call her that when he would catch her crying over her dad choosing to work on holidays than spend time with her. He rarely calls her that, and it's always said in soft tones of comfort, never used in moments when she's dead certain he probably wants to kill her.
“Well damn,” she teases. “There goes that forbidden factor.” Kai laughs again, then pulls her back on the bed, spinning so that he's on top of her. His hands nestle beneath her shirt, playing with her belly button.
He kisses up the column of her neck. “Still very forbidden, lover.” He nibbled at her ear. “Sheila would probably kill me for defiling you.”
Bonnie snorts, but it's like Kai's words were a summoning. The front door slams open and Grams is shouting her name. Both Bonnie's and Kai's eyes widen comically and Kai practically launches himself into his desk chair and grapples for the remote to turn the TV on. They both hear Grams start up the stairs and Bonnie wraps herself up in one of Kai’s many blankets and pretends to be immersed in Tony Stark’s misadventures.
Kai's door bangs open and both teens sit up with a jump, not even faking their startle. Sheila’s hands go to her hips.
“You two deaf?” she demands. “And since when are you hanging out in each other's rooms? With the door closed?”
Kai stares at her, convincingly innocent. If Bonnie didn't know better, she'd believe his next words. “We're just watching a movie. Waiting to hear news.”
Sheila snorts. “Mhmmm. And I'm Barbra Streisand. Both of you get your tails downstairs. There's much to discuss.”
Grams turns sharply down the hall and Bonnie and Kai glance at each other before following.
In the kitchen, Grams is heating herself up some of Kai's casserole. Her back is tense and Bonnie can see the weariness that lines her body. A bad feeling settles in the girl's bowels.
“Grams?” She ventures. “What's going on?”
Sheila sighs and turns around. “You eat already?” she asks them. Kai nods and Bonnie shrugs, and Grams nods like this was about what she expected.
“Sit down,” she commands. When they're seated, she crosses her arm and states matter-of-factly. “We've found that along with Elena, Tyler Lockwood and Caroline Forbes are also missing. Since all of the appear to be friends, at first it's suspected they've run away together. But there was blood found in Tyler's house that matched his DNA, indicating a struggle. Caroline went missing on her way home from the mall in Talon Falls. Her car was found in the parking lot.”
She keeps talking, but her voice is drowned out by a loud ringing in her ears. Her breaths come in gasps. Her friends are missing. Her friends are missing. Her friends are missing. The room is too light, then too dark and Bonnie feels clammy and cold. She grips the table in front of her. A sharp slap to her face snaps her out of it.
Bonnie rubs her cheek as Grams lowers her hand.
“You okay, sugar pie? I wasn't trying to alarm you but I needed you to know the truth. Have you noticed anything strange going on lately?” Grams asks her.
Bonnie shakes her head. “No,” she states, her voice cracking. Her face crumples into tears.
This is too much. First, the uncovering of the supernatural, now her friends dying or disappearing left and right. She's never felt so powerless. The afterglow from her time with Kai fades. The self-disgust from earlier settles. She was letting Kai fuck her while her friends were going missing. How could she be so selfish like that, seeking out happiness from a guy she didn't even know how she felt about when her friends’ futures became uncertain? Her distress overwhelms her and she feels hot, like fire was boiling in her veins.
Strong arms wrap around her. “You need to calm down, Bonnie,” Kai's voice rumbles by her ear. “It's not your fault, okay? I understand, but you need to calm down before you burn the house down.”
His words don't make sense, but when Bonnie looks up with teary eyes, she sees her grandmother frantically waving her arms over flames that keep popping up.
“Hold it together, Bonnie!” she calls out.
Kai grabs her face and soothes down her hair. “I'm going to have to siphon you if you don't calm down, Bonster. Deep breaths okay? Don't let your emotions overwhelm you.”
Listening to his words, Bonnie let's herself be calmed. The flames die down. The young witch looks around the charred kitchen.
“I did that?” she whispers. Kai smiles softly and nods.
“Happy Awakening, Bonnie. Let's figure out how to save your friends.”
💀🔫
Greta arranges the casting circle in the field and spells the occupants asleep. Damon dumps Katherine - the vampire, the Lockwood boy - the werewolf, and Elena - the doppelganger in the cages where Greta indicates they should go.
“Bennett blood needs to be spilled from the eastern end, where the comet will enter the Gemini constellation,” she informs Damon. When he looks at her blankly, she sighs and a flaming ‘X’ chars the ground several feet from them.
“Over there,” she tells him. Damon grins and salutes, then takes a moment to look around. The three main ingredients for the “sun and moon curse”, all trussed up and ready to die. How beautiful.
He can hear Caroline crying as Klaus gently guides her back to the field. Damon frowns at that. It's weird, Klaus’s sudden fixation with baby Barbie, but to each his own. Damon doesn't know and doesn't want to know what the hell is up with that.
Movement catches his eye and Damon turns to look. The human doppelganger is stirring. She's been eerily calm about this whole ordeal, taking to the supernatural like a duck to water. It’s nothing at all like Katherine, reminding Damon of his brother's calm disposition and his widowed wife's faithful practicality. Her dark eyes meet his light ones. Warm earth to winter sky.
They study each other in silence, before she breaks it.
“Do you think this will make you happy?” Elena inquires. Damon shrugs.
“It doesn't have to. It just has to be over. I get revenge on Katherine by handing her over to die in away she never wanted to. Klaus gets to break his curse. Klaus compels me to forget and I get to rest.”
“To die.”
“Indeed,” Damon shrugs. “I wanted revenge and now it's here. What more after that? I never wanted to be a vampire.”
Elena’s somber face twists him with guilt and he glares at her.
“Maybe you should learn to live again,” she said. “Save yourself like you saved me that night on Wickery Bridge.”
Damon huffs a laugh. “You know I caused that accident, right? I didn't save you out of guilt or some hero complex. I did it because letting you die then would be an inconvenience.”
Elena's conviction seems to falter, but then Damon watches her literally arm herself with determination.
“You're not a bad person,” she insists. “And you can't convince me otherwise. I know what it looks like when grief kills who you are inside. To feel like the walking dead.”
Damon turns his back to her and closes his, but he's a vampire. He has super hearing.
“And I know that grief can be overcome. Maybe not now or tomorrow, but someday, you'll feel alive again and you can only do that if you keep trying.”
Damon opens his eyes. “What do you know?” he jeers lightly. “You're dying young.”
💀🔫
Shortly after her meltdown, Bonnie's phone rings and she hears Caroline's desperate voice pleading in her ear.
“Don't come Bonnie okay, they have Tyler and Elena and they want you to do something weird, please Bonnie don't come, they're gonna kill us, just call my mom.”
The phone gets taken away but she hears Caroline scream something about the woods and Bonnie writes that down for Grams to see. Kai grabs her hand when another voice, make and British, fills her ear.
“Nonsense, love. Caroline will live so long as you're willing to play your part, miss Bennett. All you need to do is prick your finger and recite some Latin. Very easy.”
“Who is this?” Bonnie asks. “You don't sound like that other guy.”
The man chuckles. “My apologies, darling. My name is Niklaus Mikaelson. That other guy was my associate Damon. He can be a little hard to like, I will admit. But he was only acting on my behalf. I need a Bennett witch for a favor, and I promise you handsome compensation.”
“Like my friends back home safe?”
“As many as possible, darling,” he replies. “But none at all if you or grandmother refuse compliance.”
Kai gets up and grabs his phone. He's texting someone furiously, listening as closely as he can to their conversation. He nods at Bonnie, backed by her Grams’ nod. Bonnie takes a breath.
“Okay,” she tells him. “I'll be there. You're in the woods?”
Klaus hums his agreement. “In a lovely little meadow near the falls. I'm sure you're aware.”
At Bonnie's quiet “yeah” he continues. “And I'm sure there's no need to tell you what will happen to any interlopers you bring along.”
He ends the call and Bonnie looks between the more experienced witches in her family.
“Who’s Niklaus Mikaelson?” she asks them.
Grams is eyeing the liquor cabinet. “Bad news,” she replies. “A very old vampire, one of the first.”
“An Original,” Kai said. He sounds excited. “I texted my uncle and asked him what an Original would need a doppelganger and a Bennett witch. He wants to break the hybrid curse!”
Both women look at him, unable to comprehend his excitement, or in Bonnie's case, what the hell he was even talking about. He smiles.
“It's enough for a powerful coven to run intervention. Like say, the Gemini Coven.”
“Let my coven stop the beasts. We're going to save your friends.”
💀🔫
The Original looks up when the Bennett girl and her grandmother step into the clearing. Damon comes to stand beside him and looks over the women.
“No Prince Charming tonight?” he presses.
“Your friend said no interlopers,” the younger one speaks up, glaring at Damon. He glares back.
“And you didn't even consider being non-compliant? Not to save your best friends?” The raven-haired vampire demands. This time the older Bennett woman smiles.
“Have you considered that we don't need them?”
Damon’s hackles, which had been raised all night, appear to settle.
“Touché,” he concedes and steps back.
Niklaus smirks at the exchange, amused. He nods to the Bennett witches.
“Ladies,” he greets. “This way if you will.”
Bonnie glares at him, but follows to where he leads them. It is Sheila who takes the spellbook from him, reading over the incantation. She looks at him sharply.
“You do know what you're asking, don't you?” she queries.
“Of course,” Klaus replies. “And I understand the risk you're undertaking. I promise to reward you well.”
Sheila scoffs, shaking her head but she turns to Bonnie and guides her through the beginnings of the incantation. Klaus watches them, puzzled, but goes to take his place where Damon is holding the human doppelganger.
“This is too easy,” Damon voices his thoughts. Klaus nods, agreeing. But magic is heavy in the air and it's affecting him like it should, do he decides to accept this lucky streak for the time being.
“We will watch,” he tells Damon. “And should they betray us, we will extract the price in their blood.”
Damon nods, still appearing tense and Elena stares after him pleadingly as he passes her along to Klaus.
“Please, don't do this,” she pleads, but Damon is stone tonight. His attention is focused on the older doppelganger.
He's barely focused on the younger one when he replies, “I have to.”
Klaus grins down reassuringly to Elena. “It's just a little bite, Elena. You’ll barely feel it.”
The magic is rough inside his body. The Bennett's reach the first crescendo and there's a cry from where Damon rips out Katherine’s heart. There had been a brief exchange between them, but Klaus was too preoccupied to take notice of the context.
The next crescendo comes and Greta raises her knife to sacrifice the world not. As it descends, Klaus's eyes close and he leans forward fangs extended for the last influx of magic. He can feel the chains on his inner beast being shredded and the world narrows to Elena's neck and the magic filtering his blood. The final crescendo hits and he bites into the doppelganger, who tries to flinch away.
But his body is breaking apart and coming back together all at once, so he doesn't notice Damon’s warning cry. Not until an ash-covered dagger is jammed in his back. Damon is rushing towards him, but as Klaus falls, he sees the other vampire fall to his knees, a magic whip putting bloody stripes down his back.
Klaus looks up to see Caroline, eyes teary as she grips Elena and pulls her away from him. Clutching her bloody neck, the brunette stumbles after her tall friend to the edge of the clearing. The desiccation takes hold and the last thing Klaus sees is a coven of witches apparating into the clear, glowing green Gemini mark overtaking the clearing.
No Prince Charming tonight? Damon had asked.
Therein lies their answer.
💔🔫
Joshua stares up at his little brother’s projection, the little crown stealer. The Supreme fiddles with his belt then sighs, stepping back to reveal the Ascendant. Hate surges through Joshua Parker
“This is Kai’s,” Jason informs him. “I modified the spell. Your little abomination will hold your life in his hands. This Ascendent will tie you to him, and when he chooses, your life will be sacrificed to fulfill whatever function he sees fit and not one moment sooner. This is your punishment.”
Jason’s projection begins to fade.
“Blessed be, big brother.”
💀🔫
Two weeks later:
Elena watches the weird new dynamic between Bonnie and Kai, before the witch (and that's weird as well, to think of her best friend in those terms) breaks away from his embrace to come sit with them. Caroline is still withdrawn. Her memories from her own kidnapping had returned slowly over the past two weeks. At first Damon had merely used her as a means of food and shelter, virtually ignoring her until he needed a human touch. With Klaus, her treatment had been upgraded, but it meant posing for hours on end for paintings. In their private moments, Caroline had said she can't really explain why the interactions with the Original left her so shaken, only that his attention both frightened and aroused her.
Oddly enough, both Elena and Bonnie could relate.
That night, Kai had murdered the witch working for Klaus and sacrificed his father to protect the Bennett's from the blowback of the spell. Elena didn't exactly understand it all, but she knows it meant a lot to Bonnie. Some tide had shifted between Elena's friend and her grandmother’s ward.
They have lunch. Elena's neck is still healing, but it no longer hurts to swallow or talk, which means she's ready for that spicy avocado ranch chicken wrap from the Grill. Which she's having now, because oh god, yeah. Caroline picks at her food, but she eats more than she has been. She's taking the supernatural reveal hardest, wanting nothing more than to go back to her normal life. But she can't forget and it's left her shaken to know how easily creatures that go bump in the night were willing and able to throw away her life.
She ends up leaving first, being picked up by her mom. Bonnie follows soon after, some kind of magical training she and Kai have to do now that Bonnie's magic is awakened. Elena waves after them, intending to enjoy a second wrap without judgement. It arrives quickly and as Elena takes the first huge bite she looks up to see blue eyes watching her with mild disgust.
She has to laugh at his expression.
“You came,” she greets. Damon nods, sitting opposite her.
“I did,” he said. “You don't think your little friends might see this as a betrayal? I'm pretty sure Blondie would be willing stab me like she did my oldest friend.”
Elena smiles. “Of course she would. You made her feel unsafe.”
Damon leans forward, bracing his cheek on his hand. He's almost devastatingly handsome.
“I'm not sorry,” he declares. Challenges. Elena meets it.
“Neither are we.” She takes a bite of her wrap. “How's living treating you?”
It doesn't sound right through her mouthful of chicken, but Damon seems to understand, making another face at her manners. He huffs and rolls his eyes.
“You shouldn't have interfered,” he chides. “You should have let the witches kill me.”
“What kind of punishment is that?” Elena teases. “Death isn't redeeming. You can't make things right with anyone from the grave.” She takes another bite. Damon watches her.
“I spent a century waiting to kill a woman who looked just like you,” he informs her. “When she died, she thanked me for giving back her heart right before I ripped it out of her chest.”
Elena stares at him and swallows her food. A lump stays in her throat. “Are you going to kill me too?”
He smiles. “Now, now. What kind of punishment is that?” He leans back.
“I think I'll stick around. Hang out with x-greats-grandson Zach. Uncle Zach?” he muses. “He looks older than me: I was only 25 when I turned. Uncle Zach.”
Elena smiles. “Well in that case: Welcome to Mystic Falls, Mr. Salvatore.” She holds out her hand. “I'm Elena.”
“Damon,” he replies after a brief hesitation, shaking her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
They share a smile. Neither really notices when he doesn't let her hand go.
💀🔫
Kai wakes with start when someone small and cold slips into his bed. He grumbles, but shifts so that Bonnie can make herself comfortable.
“Shut up, freak,” she mumbles and pulls his arm around her. Kai presses a kiss to her head. She's quiet, stilling long enough for Kai to start to drift off.
“Do you regret it?” she asks. Kai grunts, not opening his eyes.
“Killing your dad? Killing that witch?”
Kai shakes his head, burying his nose in her hair.
“Them or you, Bonnie. I pick you any day.”
“Even though I was awful to you for so long? Even though you hated me?”
Kai sighs. “I never really hated you. Hush before Sheila pops in to yell at us.”
She back-elbows him gently. “I mean it.”
“Me too,” he grunts. “It doesn't matter, Bonnie. I'd still pick you, any day. Over anyone. Even Grams. Even my uncle.”
Bonnie's quiet. “Why?” she chokes. He pulls her closer.
“You know why.”
With a sigh, she settles to sleep. “I never really hated you either,” she whispers. Kai hums, relaxing.
After a moment Bonnie sits up straight, wide-eyed and distraught.
“Oh shit,” she wheezes, scrambling out if the bed. Kai sits up slowly, somewhat cranky now.
“What now?” he croaks. Bonnie glares at him, then snaps:
“Our first constellation report is due in astronomy tomorrow!”
💀🔫
A/N for shayspencer: Hello shayspencer! I'm donutworry (fuckitimfangirling on Tumblr), your Secret Santa. Feel free to call me Allie. I hope you enjoyed your fic, it was pretty fun to write. It was a little tough to write, bc I think I tackled each of your topics at least once in other works and I didn't want to produce anything too repetitive. I'm also sorry for any typos, this is unbeta’ed and was written during bouts of free time - I work in healthcare and holiday season is the busiest. When I wrote it, I kind of focused on how Bonnie was the one to pursue the bad blood between them and Kai being the one to always offer the olive branch, even if it was after he hit back. I know the high school AU aspect was pretty loose, but I wanted to focus more on how their lives are supposed to revolve around school and how the supernatural disrupted that. Hopefully, I managed to do so. Hopefully, the Delena was enjoyable. I did my very best, even though I'm neutral towards most non-Bonnie TVD ships. I know KC and SK where probs not what you wanted, but I think it's important to show how push-pull ships like this don't always work out. I did get pretty into Steferine because of you though, lol. It seemed you would be okay with darker stuff, so I went pretty emo because I wanted to bring you the feels. Did it work? If my sadism here wasn't enough, I've got two other WIPs inspired by your prompts to bring the pain. 😝 Happy holidays, enjoy any breaks you might have and any holiday pay you might make! Happy BK Secret Santa! I'll post this on FFN, Tumblr, and AO3 in 2018 after you've had a chance to enjoy for yourself.
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How to Cultivate Quiet in the Face of Constant Distraction
This summer, a commonly publicized report supplied a stark suggestion concerning the state of the modern-day mind. 'Men prefer to obtain an electric shock compared to believe,' declared the headlines. While today's information is commonly sensationalized, in this case, the stories were unfortunately accurate.
The record, published in the July issue of the journal Science, described a series of 11 studies in which volunteers were asked to rest alone with their ideas for in between 6 and 15 minutes, as well as the results were fascinating. The early experiments showed that people age 18 to 77, from numerous demographics, found it uncomfortable and difficult to focus when sitting in a bare room alone with their ideas. The results held up when the volunteers were asked to being in their houses as well as think, though they had the ability to concentrate more conveniently when enabled to review or hear music. When seated in a room with nothing to do but push a button that they knew would certainly create an electric shock, 12 out of 18 guys and also 6 out of 24 women picked to stun themselves rather compared to weather the troubled terrain of their very own minds. Numerous carried out the shock greater than one-time during 15 minutes.
As somebody that delight in singular quiet time, I struggle to fathom the lack of ability to accept silence. Could time spent without disturbance, simply sitting in peaceful, really be that bad?
According to among the scientists that conducted the study, Timothy Wilson, Ph.D., a teacher of psychology at the College of Virginia, the response, to some degree, involves the nature of the human brain. 'The mind is made to engage with the world. Even when we are by ourselves, our focus typically is on the outdoors,' he informed Wired. 'Without training in thought-control methods, which still are challenging, lots of people would choose to take part in external tasks.'
In other words, managing our ideas is hard, and also delighting in disturbance, one of minority endless sources of today's world, is easy. But simply since our minds tend to move to the external-the e-mails, songs, home entertainment, as well as social interactions that fill our days-does not imply we ought to allow these elements determine how we live. Along with minimizing our capability to sit with our thoughts, a life of diversion takes a toll, potentially impacting our cognitive abilities along with our partnerships and also sense of self. Hyper-connectivity can likewise impact our ability for persistence and need for immediate gratification. Sculpting out time for quiet-a valuable commodity-is something that could often obtain bumped down our order of business however is extremely worthwhile.
There are various methods we can silent the mind, find out how you can focus, and also discover tranquility, and there are equally as many needs to do so. Meditation is an effective tool to harness self-awareness. 'Reflection remakes our partnership to everything. It helps us experience delight and also satisfaction a lot more completely, experience discomfort with presence as well as empathy rather than rage and worry, and sensation neutral times with even more connection as well as understanding,' claims Sharon Salzberg, a reflection educator, author, and also co-founder of the Understanding Reflection Culture in Barre, Massachusetts. Rather of attempting to run away or sidetrack ourselves, reflection educates us to merely be here currently, with all our ideas, sensations, and also emotions.
In clinical researches, meditation has actually been discovered to be highly effective for chronic wellness problems such as anxiety, sleeping disorders, as well as anxiety. When our minds are participated in reflective techniques, we could enact healthy patterns that could bring us into the present minute and ward off depression.
The focus technique of loving-kindness, additionally called metta meditation, has actually been found to cultivate test subjects' ability for compassion. This effective heart-opener has actually additionally been revealed to raise sensations of link. Thankfulness as well as positivity, highlighted in this method, could have a profound influence on one's frame of mind. In contrast to breath meditation or mindfulness meditation, loving-kindness enables one to focus one's energy on, initially, the self, then those we like, after that those we are neutral towards, those that may be tough, and also, ultimately, everybody in the world. This focused intention could be uplifting and supplies a helpful practice for those that could be challenged by mindfulness reflection, rather than asking us to focus our emphasis, it asks that we merely enable our focus to be on awareness-of ourselves and our surroundings.
Coby Kozlowski, a life coach and also yoga exercise educator at the Kripalu Center for Yoga exercise as well as Health and wellness, notes that meditation-contrary to some individuals's perception-can be discovered both in circulation, and in stillness. 'Several individuals do not experience tranquility as well as silent in their meditation method so they assume they are doing it incorrect, which generates a feeling of disappointment and also loss,' claims Kozlowski. 'Once we welcome the concept of fluidness, we could merely practice, without assumption.' For some, a meditative state is experienced as movement-knitting or paint, cross-country snowboarding or dance, running or doing yoga exercise. 'There is nobody style or method to meditation that works for everybody,' Kozlowski says. 'Meditation is concerning being intimate with life, with every one of life, and also functions as a method to have a far better relationship with yourself as well as the country around you.'
In order to start a meditation technique, the trick is to be open. You could establish goals however keep them in the world of opportunity. You don't need to be shrouded in orange petition stoles, rising toward the Himalayas in the very first week. 'Many people will begin with resolving their focus on really feeling the natural breath wherever it is strongest-nostrils, breast, or abdomen. Don't be dismayed if after recognizing just one breath your mind wanders off. That's typical. When you understand you have actually ended up being distracted, see if you could carefully allow go as well as, without judgment, bring your focus back to the breath,' says Salzberg.
Here are a couple of suggestions that could assist us find convenience in the peaceful as well as produce a lasting reflection practice.
Focus on the breath. This basic three-minute technique from Kozlowski enables us to be aware and existing with the breath.
Take a deep breath, filling your belly and exhaling delicately. Proceed this sluggish breathing to buy on your own space to center.
Focus on your breath till it transforms into slow-moving and rhythmic.
Allow your mind to shift to attend to sounds around you.
Should you become distracted, merely notice, recognize the diversion, as well as return to breath and afterwards to seem. Practicing meditation on audio is something that could be performed in virtually every setting, is basic, and also offers a first focus of stimulation that leads us to at some point appreciate not just the audio but also the rooms between sound-the peace of quiet.
Sit comfortably. 'Do not seem like you have to rest in a pretzel-like position,' Salzberg states. You could remain on a cushion or chair, or kneel. Some want to use a meditation bench to supply a strong seat. Bear in mind to keep your spinal column long to allow yourself to be sharp as well as to support your back.
Share the love. Metta can have a solid influence on your sense of belonging, leisure, and also overall health, and also metta reflection is an effective method to straighten yourself with a feeling of kindhearted empathy and also universality. Right here is a straightforward offering of loving-kindness to the country, to those with whom you could have a hard time, as well as to on your own. You could say them quietly or silently, in your mind. Once again, find a comfy posture, close your eyes, or have your eyes gently concentrated downward, as well as contemplate the complying with phrases.
May you really feel safe and protected.
May you feel contented as well as pleased.
May your body assistance you with strength.
May your life unravel efficiently and also with ease.
The act of sitting and also producing habit could offer a framework that permits us to grow silent and internal calmness. Whatever method you're attracted to, the quiet it generates can fill up the well, providing a structure of grounded energy that enables us to appear permanently with stamina and visibility. No electric shocks needed.
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Little Monster part 3
MASTERLIST
Pairing: Professor!Steve Rogers x reader
Warnings: A couple bad words? Mentions of drugging someone (e.g. date rape) but without explicit content. Just briefly mentioned but if this is not for you, then please skip the cursive part!
Word count: 2389
Summary: You and Clint meet up to discuss tactics. Pietro reveals something to Bucky and infuriaties him.
A/N: You should start to wonder by now who the real little monster is...
Part 1
Part 2
Sam’s POV – two years ago
I didn’t expect Tony Stark himself to walk in on us. About 30 minutes I was chatting up Y/N, asking her if she’d be interested in an academic career as my personal assistant. I might’ve suggested we could discuss it further in my office after class. Offered her a drink and then another, which she declined fiercely at first but eventually gave in after I had assured her nobody would ever hear a word about it from me. We discussed her potential and drank some more. Her cheeks were flushed with the alcohol, her pink lips so luscious and lustful. So I might’ve spiked her drink after only the first glass.
Don’t worry though, nothing ever happened. Thanks to Tony Stark.
Everything went off the deep end after he found out about my less than honourable intentions with Y/N. unwilling to let this kind of grotesque scandal get out of hand and blemish the reputation of the college and himself, Tony forced me to take a two-year sabbatical. The easy way out. But not for Y/N, who only spiralled into a massive black hole of self-destruction. She met and fell in love with Bucky Barnes and everybody knows that boy is no good, his father a corrupt cop and all that.
Y/N’s POV
Concentration is a bitch. When you need it the most, during let’s say a particularly boring class with an extremely attractive professor, it fails you completely. Luckily for you, Wanda’s notes are at your disposal. She’s dedicated, you must give her that. Her handwriting is cursive and elegant, matching her princess-like appearance. After class she waits for you to clear your desk and gives a final wave to professor Rogers before walking you out. You don’t notice how his eyes linger on your back longer than they should, but you do feel someone’s else presence.
“Hey Wanda!,” an unfamiliar voice calls out from across the hallway. Your head snaps into the direction of a fine-looking silver-haired stranger.
“Pietro! I didn’t know you had class on Tuesday!,” Wanda replies in an unusually chipper voice, hugging him tightly.
Pietro just shrugs, an adorable lopsided grin adorning his sharp features. “Is it against the law now to surprise my baby sister?”
So Pietro is Wanda’s brother, this should be interesting. He sure doesn’t look like her brother even though his demeanour appears alike. Cocky, confident and completely cuckoo. “Hi, my name is Y/N,” you introduce yourself when Pietro’s stormy grey eyes lock with yours.
“Y/N,” he almost purrs in a seductive voice, like his lips are dripping with honey and you’re the forbidden apple he longs to taste. “Pietro Maximoff, pleasure to meet you.”
“Well, I’d love to stick around,” Wanda announces suddenly, quirking an eyebrow at her brother when he does not pay her any attention, instead focusing only on you, making you feel very uneasy under his scrutinising gaze. “Professor Rogers wanted to go over the seminar slides again before the presentation. See you later,” Wanda says to her brother before turning to me, “And I’ll see you in class.”
“You seem like too nice a girl to be hanging around with my sister,” Pietro chuckles softly once Wanda is out of earshot. “She’s a handful, that one. Whereas you,” he leans in closer and whispers into your ear, “you seem like a sweet girl. Very sweet. Makes me wonder if you taste as sweet as you look.”
You gasp audibly at his blunt statement and he smirks triumphantly, softly pecking your cheek. “You’re adorable when you blush, babe. I wonder what else I can make you do… With my mouth, perhaps? Or would you prefer a different bodypart?”
Your reflexes are faster than your mind and before you know it, your hand collides with his cheek as you slap him in the middle of a busy hallway. Many heads turn to see what kind of drama is unfolding next but only a few actually stop to watch it. “Feisty,” Pietro hums as he rubs his cheek, a faint red mark already visible. “Bucky was right about you, Y/N. I can understand now what he sees in you.”
Bewildered, I let my guard drop. “Bucky?” You throw him a suspicious look. “How do you know my boyfriend. I’ve never seen you around before.”
“That’s because we’re not exactly friends, babe.”
You groan loudly at the nickname. “I’m not your babe, so quit it.”
He holds up his hands in mock defence, a cocky smile lifting the corners of his lips upwards. He looks awfully smug, something he has in common with Bucky. “Bucky just occasionally needs me to fix something for him, that doesn’t make us friends though.”
“I see,” I reply dryly, clicking my tongue. Looking down on my watch, I realise I’m already running late for my lunch date with Clint. “Shit. Gotta go, Pietro,” you mumble quickly by means of a goodbye. “I hope I’ll never have to run into you again.”
“Oh, I bet you will, babe,” he calls after you and you sigh inwardly. Yet another arrogant fucker to take into account.
You make it at the cafeteria just in time, arriving only seconds after Clint has taken a seat at your usual lunch spot. A little out of breath, you slide into the seat next to him. “Hi, Clint.”
“You didn’t have to rush just for me, Y/N. I would’ve survived 5 minutes all by myself,” Clint jokes as he playfully pokes your side.
You hum in agreement, taking out your lunch box and aggressively taking a huge bite from your tuna sandwich. “Looks like someone’s hungry and maybe a little frustrated? What happened, Y/N?”
Rolling your eyes at your best friend, you start to explain that professor Rogers is anything but a greying, white male with a moustache like you had imagined he’d be. Instead you’re now confronted with a gloriously chiselled individual, baby blue puppy dog eyes and golden retriever hair. “Why did nobody warn me about that? He’s seriously a health hazard! I bet all the girls have a heart attack once they lay eyes on him!”
Clint snorts and belts out in laughter. “Jesus, Y/N. Don’t say that to Bucky, you’ll give him a heart attack as well!”
“I’m being serious here, Clint!,” you shoot back in a menacing tone. “He shouldn’t be allowed to be a professor in the first place with how good he looks. And Bucky’s pride can take a hit.”
“Be grateful that you have Rogers and not Wilson again, Y/N. You don’t want Wilson to try anything with you a second time.”
“I just feel like the world is against me,” you pout sadly, sighing at the memory of Sam. “I was a damn fool to ever let him use me. But I learnt my lesson and no one will ever use me like that again.”
“So what happened after class? You getting along with Wanda?,” Clint inquires casually, smoothly transitioning to a safer topic of conversation. He’s been wooing Wanda for a week straight now and still without any progress. It’s like she’s not even interested at all while she definitely was when you met up with her over coffee. She’s head over heels for Clint, you’re sure of it. She’s just playing hard to get.
“Her brother, Pietro, is what happened after class,” you scoff indignantly. “Gives Buck a run for his money. Such an asshole.”
“Yeah, I know Pietro,” Clint murmurs before taking a sip from his water bottle. “He’s overly self-possessed but he’s got a good heart. Has a tendency to get into trouble, too.”
“Well, if he calls me babe again I’m going to cut his balls off.”
Again Clint erupts in a hearty fit of laughter, clutching his hand over his heart as the merry sound fills your ears. “Pietro’s had a thing for you since first year, did you know that? He’s been pining over you for that long, Y/N.”
“He called me sweet. Said he wanted to taste me,” you discuss with Clint, disgust seeping through.
“If I remember it correctly, Bucky called you a great pussy when you two first met.”
“Yeah and I kicked him in the nuts for it as well. Kept him coming back to me, still does.”
Clint chuckles, recalling how hard you made Bucky work before you’d let him take you out on a date. He even showed up at your place unannounced to make you breakfast just because he wanted to win you over that much. He was absolutely smitten and frankly, so were you. You just enjoyed making him sweat.
“So what are your plans for the rest of the day?” Clint finishes up on his sandwich and scrolls through his phone, looking for the invitation he received earlier that day. “You fancy going with me to that party Thor invited me to?”
He shows you the invite and you decline politely. “Nah, I think I’m just going to crash at Maria’s tonight and get a good night sleep. Was thinking of going to Bucky’s instead but I wanna be fresh and fruity for professor Rogers. Better make a good first impression.”
Clint nods, putting his phone away. “You think I should ask Wanda then?”
“You can. Let’s see if she takes the bait but I wouldn’t count too much on it.”
“You’re probably right,” he confirms gloomily. Something in me just breaks for Clint upon seeing his distraught expression. I know how much he needs the validation of a pretty girl after Nat left him. To have Wanda turn him down so coldly must hurt more than I can imagine at this point. I still cannot fathom why Wanda would ever give him the cold shoulder if what she says is true and she’s been hooked on him ever since the fall ball. She didn’t lie, did she?
“Hey,” I whisper, placing my hand on his shoulder. “If it’s any consolation, once this class is over I won’t need her anymore. We’ll find you a nice piece of ass in no time.”
Bucky’s POV
“So how did she react?”
“She smacked me, man.”
Bucky gives Pietro an amused look. “She smacked you?” He shakes his head, chuckling darkly. “I love that girl so much.”
“And she obviously loves you too. Otherwise she would’ve taken me up on my offer,” Pietro adds with a small smirk.
“So what else have you found out?”
“I didn’t find much dirt on Wilson, if that’s what you’re asking. Everybody’s lips are sealed.”
Bucky grumbles, pouring himself a glass of bourbon and offering Pietro one as well which he gladly accepts. “I need to know what he did to my girl, Pietro. Ever since he came back she’s been on edge. And we both know what kind of effect that other punk, professor Rogers, has on the opposite sex.”
Pietro chokes on his drink. “Not just on the opposite sex, Buck. I bet a lot of guys want his cock, too.”
“You suddenly switched sides, pal?,” Bucky jokes back, licking his lips and grinning ferally as he sees Pietro change colour, looking more like a tomato than an actual human being.
“God, no,” he stammers innocently. “Just making an observation.”
“Ah,” Bucky hums cheekily, clearly recalling Pietro boasting about his threesome with another guy and his now ex-girlfriend just a couple weeks ago. Poor Pietro’s relationship didn’t survive that much action though, since his gal couldn’t deal with the morning after and blamed Pietro for it.
“Buck? You know I’m on your side, right?” Pietro inquires gingerly, ruffling a hand through his short and messy silver curls. “You know I would never do anything to, you know, sabotage you, right?”
“Just tell me already. What have you done now?,” Bucky urges less than amused, nursing a now empty glass.
Putting down his drink and looking down at his feet, Pietro stuffs his hands in the pockets of his blue jeans. “I might’ve mentioned to Wanda that you wanted to fuck her.”
Bucky slams the glass onto the table and it shatters on impact, a couple stray shards stuck in the palm of his hand. He curses loudly, reaching for a handkerchief to stop the bleeding. “You piece of shit!,” he screams at Pietro. “You know I’m with Y/N! I’d never cheat on her unless she cheated on me first!”
“Bro, I know. Trust me, I know,” he assures Bucky who doesn’t seem all too convinced by his promise. “But you know how Wanda can be. She just kept pushing and pushing until I had said too much and couldn’t take it back.”
“So you just told her I’d like to bang her, is that it?!” Shaking his head in disbelief, Bucky pulls out the shards one by one, wincing and groaning at the sting of pain going through his veins. The cuts run deep and Y/N will most likely want to know how he got them. Gotta find a good excuse for that later on.
He points a stern finger at the silver-haired menace. “You speak one more word about my fantasies to your sister and you’re dead to me. Who do you think will pay off your college debts then, huh?” Rubbing his temples after binding off his hand, Bucky turns away from Pietro and instead focuses on the screen of his cell phone lighting up. The caller ID reads Y/N and he quickly answers it.
“Hey sweetheart, why are you calling me? Is there something wrong?”
Pietro sees an opportunity to take his exit but Bucky reprimands him rapidly before he can do so. “Doll, have a nice time at Maria’s, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow. Love you so much, baby.”
Bucky ends the call and all of a sudden he throws his phone at Pietro. The device lands on the couch behind him yet missed Pietro by an inch. “If you ever so much as blink an eye at Y/N again, I will kill you with my bare hands, understood?” Pietro nods immediately. “And that sister of yours, Wanda… I was drunk off my ass when I confided in you. I would never hurt Y/N like that, I’d never screw her over. Everything I said, it meant nothing.”
“Nothing,” Pietro mimics and with a wave of Bucky’s hand he scoots off.
Part 4
@beccaanne814-blog @mellifluous-melodramas @mrshopkirk @winterboobaer @kiwi71281 @a-little-hell-to-raise @unpredictable-firecracker @marvelingatthewonder @hardcorehippos @iiharu-kunii @knittingknerdy @winterwolf57 @theoneandonlysaucymo @bovaria @marvel-lucy @marvel-ash @thedragonblood @the-silver-iris @themcuhasruinedme @fvckingsteverogers @nenyakj @justareader @writing-soldiers @angryschnauzer @sfdce @feelmyroarrrr @erinvanlyssel @wildestdreamsrps @jonsnowisnotdeadthough @4theluvofall @finhabastos @shadowpriestess6 @abovethesmokestacks @katalina-from-hellbound @emilyinwonderland3 @sallyp-53 @toofuckinfabulous @ailynalonso15 @soymikael @independentgirl @katbird787 @queen-merc @mizzzpink @movingonto-betterthings @stomachfilledwithbutterflies @stevergxrs @thegirlwithnodragontattoo
#marvel#marvel imagine#marvel fic#marvel fan fic#marvel fanfiction#fan fiction#fan fic writing#marvel fan fiction#my fan fiction#fanfic#my fanfiction#fanfiction#i write fanfiction#steve rogers#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers x bucky barnes#steve x reader#bucky barnes x steve rogers#professor!steve rogers#bucky x reader#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky#bucky imagine#james bucky barnes#james buchanan barnes#james barnes#the avengers#avengers#mobster au
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okay I’m going to do this meme again. it probably hasn’t been that long but I love it and it helps me work on things when I have...too many things to work on and can’t focus properly on any one of them.
Here are my WIPs! Send me a number and I’ll add 150 words to that story or edit for 15 minutes, depending on how complete it is. If I get the same number multiple times, I have to write more for that fic!
Eleven WIPs eligible for this meme under the cut - you can find some explanations of what these are here.
1. “Wherever you’re staying,” Steve said, “does it have a bed? Can you get something hot to eat?” Lukas said nothing, and Steve shook his head. Why haven’t you gone to a shelter, he wanted to ask, but he figured he could guess the answer. Dumb pride. Or just shame. Especially given the air Lukas gave off that suggested he’d come down a long way in the world.
“Right,” Steve said, more to himself than anything. “Course not.” He took a deep breath and let it out. “I have a couch. And a kitchen. Come over. Eat some dinner, get a night’s sleep. Then you can do whatever you want.”
Lukas studied him out of the corner of his eye. “You would invite a near stranger to your home?”
Steve smiled crookedly. “Hey, we’ve met four times now. You’re not a stranger anymore.” (keep your heart close to the ground)
2. “Careful,” Loki said, his eyes mocking. “You’ll break something.” He let go of Steve’s throat, but only to grab the back of his neck and drag him in, mouth fixing to Steve’s jaw and sucking hard enough to bruise. Steve heard himself make a low sound and went rigid, the knowledge of the dark purple mark that would stay on his skin making his blood hot. Making him hard.
Loki knew it, too. He released Steve’s wrist, too, both hands dropping to his hips and pulling Steve flush against him. He gasped, hips driving forward against Loki’s leg.
Loki laughed and moved his mouth an inch down, biting down. Another bruise.
“This isn’t enough, is it,” he murmured into Steve’s skin. “It never is.”
“Shut up,” Steve said. Loki’s hand slithered between them and thrust down his pants, thumbnail grazing Steve’s cock just enough to make his body sing.
“Make me,” Loki said, a laugh in the words. (that spark of black that I seem to love)
3. Steve stared at him. “We can’t just - take off,” he protested. “People will get worried.”
Loki’s lips quirked. “We’ll leave a note.”
“A note?” Steve shook his head, incredulous. “What if something comes up?”
“Do you think that all your friends together are not able enough? T’Challa alone has the force of his nation behind him.”
It was...a fair point. Steve could feel himself wavering. “Where would we even go?” He asked. “We’re fugitives, remember? It’s not like we can just go wandering around Paris-”
Loki’s faint smile widened. “Who said we were going to stay on this planet?” (you could see planets and stars)
4. The memory shredded and Loki was again lying on stone, his chest heaving. Amora watched him, chin on hands, smiling.
“Good dreams?” She murmured.
“You’ve made a mistake,” Loki snarled. “I have lived these memories once. I can live them again and laugh knowing that I survived. That I am stronger for it.”
“You think that now,” Amora murmured. Her expression shifted into one of mock sympathy. “Would you like to talk about it?”
“I almost hope I live to see Thanos rip you apart,” Loki snarled.
“I look forward to seeing what he does with you when I deliver you weeping and broken to his feet.” (Underground)
5. “Yeah,” Bucky said. “Thanks.” He took a deep breath. “Wilson thinks I’m a sleeper agent. That they’ve still got their hooks in me.”
Steve stiffened. “I don’t believe it,” he said quickly. “Sam’s just being cautious.”
Bucky shrugged. “It’s a possibility.” Steve’s throat closed. When he could breathe again, he swallowed hard. Bucky looked at him, head cocked slightly to the side. “I wouldn’t necessarily know,” he said evenly. “My memory’s...not always clear. About a lot of things. Or maybe my memories aren’t real. It’s good, that Wilson’s suspicious. You should be too.”
“No,” Steve said, shaking his head. “I’m not going to doubt you. I trusted you on the helicarrier-”
Bucky hissed. “I almost killed you on the helicarrier. Remember?” (Steve Rogers’ Halfway House for Notorious Supervillains)
6. Captain America. The man pulled out of his own time and dropped into the present. A soldier, Barton had said, but a decidedly peculiar one. He had worked with SHIELD for a time, it seemed, alongside – ah, there she was – the Widow. At least, he had until SHIELD had apparently been revealed as a group of frauds and vipers, and then Rogers had summarily destroyed them.
That was somewhat interesting, but Loki only lingered on it for a moment. What held his attention somewhat more was what Rogers did with the rest of his time, which was…a great deal.
Volunteering at a dizzying array of places, the names of which were meaningless to Loki. Visiting the sick – though as he was not a healer, Loki hadn’t the faintest idea what he was doing there. Taken all together it made Loki think of nothing so much as a man who was looking for distractions. (post-Svartalfheim au)
7. “Is this where you disappeared to, when you would take off without a word?” Thor asked. Loki hadn’t calmed, still pacing. It was making Steve tense. “You were coming here?”
“Sometimes,” Loki said. Steve stayed quiet. At least for the moment, getting in the middle seemed like a bad idea.
“Why?” Thor asked, sounding almost insultingly surprised. Loki shrugged.
“Why not? It was forbidden. It was a strange Realm. I was curious and Asgard bored me.” Steve gave him a quick look, but didn’t call him on what probably wasn’t a complete lie. Loki paused, and after a moment added, “and then I…found people here. Whose company I enjoyed.” His tone turned stubborn, almost defiant. “And who enjoyed my company.”
Thor frowned. “You say that as though there were none such at home.” (Thunderstorms)
8. Loki’s breathing seemed maybe a little easier, but by the way he opened his eyes with a sharp intake of breath he wasn’t exactly sleeping deeply, and when he looked at her his gaze was confused, disoriented. She pressed her hand gently down on his shoulder.
“It’s me,” she said, keeping her voice soft and soothing. “Natasha.”
Clarity came slowly, but he didn’t lash out. He stared at her, eyes a little too wide, and Natasha found herself remembering the disaster with the drug. She didn’t want to be another torturer.
“Focus on where you are,” she said levelly. “The way the couch feels.” She left her hand where it was, figuring the contact without pain, as long as he hadn’t lashed out yet, was probably good. “That’s it.”
He blinked slowly and licked his lips. “Natasha,” he said, still a little unsteady. She summoned as much of a smile as she could manage.
“Yep. You’re still here.”
“I didn’t say anything,” Loki said, eyes still wide. “I didn’t betray you. Amora asked but I wouldn’t…”
Well, Natasha thought dryly, at least he’d had that much sense. “You told me,” she said, trying to keep her voice gentle. “I believe you.”
He relaxed. Natasha pulled her hand away slowly. “I’m going to get you something to drink.” (Privation)
9. Bucky moved back and sat down with his back against the wall, distinctly dissatisfied. He’d never met Loki, only knew of him vaguely as the name associated with the attack on New York. And apparently he didn’t know anything about Bucky. So this had been pointless. He’d risked exposure and dragged someone into his safe house for no good reason.
So kill him. Cut his throat and dump him. Bucky shifted, unable to come up with a good counterargument for that suggestion except the possibility that even a wounded alien was stronger than he was and the fact that it was a suggestion from that part of his brain. He should’ve tied him up. It would’ve made dealing with him now easier.
“What now?” Loki asked, and Bucky twitched and stared at him, still lying on the floor with his eyes closed.
“Good question,” Bucky said. (forgive the children we once were)
10. When Loki did not return after a fairly substantial period of time, Clint followed him out. He wasn’t standing out front – that was a relief, given how much he would stand out – but when Clint circled around the back he didn’t see him either. Just as his heart was starting to pound the air seemed to waver and Loki appeared, cradling the scepter in his lap and ashen faced. He swayed, and Clint hurried over, dropping to his knees and reaching out to steady him. The moment he made contact, Loki’s hand was around his throat.
Clint went quickly limp. “Boss,” he said. “It’s me.” He could still talk, which was good. Loki could’ve snapped his neck in a second if he wanted to. Loki blinked, eyes focusing on him slowly, but even after recognition dawned it took him a moment longer to release Clint’s neck. He looked down immediately, eyes on the pavement.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t’ve touched you. That was out of line.”
Loki shook his head slowly. One of his hands had a white-knuckle grip around the scepter, and Clint glanced at it, and Loki’s mouth. Some fresh blood trickled from the punctures above and below his lips, and Clint felt a surge of anger again. (Seams and Scars)
11. Fall out of one cage and into another.
Loki could not decide which was worse.
He contemplated the glass in his hand, the nearly clear liquor within. He knew how it would taste - cloying and sweet with a bitter aftertaste. The Sakaarans seemed to like it, but Loki could not fathom why. As poor taste in drink as they had in...nearly everything else.
“Pay attention, pet,” his companion said. “And don’t look so sullen. Or do you need some dragonfire to perk you up?”
Loki plastered a smile on his face. “No,” he said quickly. “Pardon. My mind wandered a moment.”
The Grandmaster smiled at him, the expression painfully indulgent. “Of course. So long as it does not wander too far.” (our battles choose us)
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The Powers That Be
TITLE: The Powers That Be
CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter Thirteen
AUTHOR: wolfpawn
ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki discovering a hidden mutant when he realises they are at risk of being found by S.H.I.E.L.D. who experiments on mutants, he is the one to help them.
RATING: Teen and Up
“Alexia, wake up.” Alex felt someone shaking her slightly, opening one eye, she noticed it was Romanov. “We have to go.”
“It’s the middle of the night, go where?” She rubbed her eyes. “What is going on? When did you all get back?”
“Please, just come on.” Romanov pulled her out of the bed, causing Alexia to be forced to her feet.
“No, not until you tell me.” Alexia tried pulling her hand back, but Romanov kept a firm grip on it. “Let go of me.” The lights, which had been off, began to brighten.
“Don’t.” Romanov looked up at the ceiling.
“Let go of me.” Alexia put her left hand up. “One last warning.”
Romanov stared at the hand, wondering what it was that the other woman would do, but she pulled her forward again. “There is no time.”
Alexia concentrated and sent Romanov crashing into the far wall. “Make it.”
“What’s going on in here?” Barton came into the room to see Romanov on the floor rubbing her head, and a defensive looking Alexia, who was now glaring at him, her arm raised. “What happened, you were told to get her and go.” He looked at Romanov.
“Why?”
“You didn’t tell her?”
“I thought it would upset her.” Romanov got to her feet.
“What is happening?” Alexia looked between them. “They know I’m here.” She realised.
“We have about ten minutes, everyone else is outside,” Barton explained.
Alexia looked at them suspiciously. “How can I be sure you are not lying?”
“Seriously? We saved you ass remember.” Barton shouted indignantly. “Look if you want to be a guinea pig again, be my guest.” He held his hands up and left the room.
“Come on. Even if we are lying, you know you stand more of a chance outside.” Romanov walked out the door.
Conflicted, Alexia followed, grabbing a hoodie as she walked for the door. Sure enough, the rest of the avengers were outside and waiting.
“What took so long?” Rogers growled.
“She didn’t believe us.” Barton’s stated in exasperation. “She did something to Tasha.”
“In my defence, she came into my room in the dark and dragged me from my bed and wouldn’t tell me anything. Considering everything that has happened me of late, you cannot really blame my suspicion.” Alexia explained as she sat into the Quinjet. “Besides, I made sure it wouldn’t hurt.”
“So you intentionally did that?” Romanov stared at her.
“Yes. That’s why I said ‘One last warning’.” Alexia reminded her.
“But you intentionally threw me across the room, I mean, you planned to do exactly that?”
“Yes.” Alexia nodded as the jet took off.
“Well that little interaction actually cost us time and now we have a tail,” Hill commented as she assessed the radar.
“What have we?” Rogers looked out the window closest to him.
“Another jet. It will probably not have as many in it so it will be faster.” Hill responded.
“Allow me.” Stark brought the facemask of his suit to the correct position.
“Don’t harm them,” Rogers warned.
“I will take them down as safely as possible, but I am making no promises if they fire,” Stark stated as he went to the back of the jet and pressed the door release button before going outside.
“So you are able to control it somewhat now?” Romanov continued, Alexia nodded. “Is that why you were giggling in the shower the other day?” The men on the jet looked around in confusion, not sure if they were comfortable with the conversation that was being had.
“Yes. Sorry about earlier.”
“Trust no one,” Romanov stated. “It’s safer that way.”
“You trust me, though, right?” Barton winked.
“Not since Budapest.” Romanov gave a half grin back.
“Are we ever going to know what happened there, or is it going to be some sort of running joke between the two of you for the rest of our days?” Stark asked as he re-entered the plane. “Done, I just took out their engines and gently landed them.” He looked to Rogers. “Happy?”
“They didn’t deserve to die.” He argued.
“Would they say the same of us? SHIELD is not all cute fluffy bunnies and hugs you know.” Stark argued.
“They are only doing their job, I doubt they know the full story.”
“Any job that states, ‘kill a girl because well, we’re not telling you’, and you do so without question, that is the sort of job that you deserve anything you get in.” Stark retorted. “Oh, and they would have killed us too were we in the way, so yeah, that is being lenient on them.”
“It would not be right.”
“Neither would killing us for doing the right thing.”
“Please, both of you, stop arguing for more than forty seconds and someone tell us where to fly to.” Hill snapped as she looked around from the pilot’s seat.
No one could answer. They could not think of anywhere safe to go to now. “Do we have to stay in the States?” Romanov asked.
“What have you in mind?” Barton eyed her.
“Russia.”
“Whoa, that is a bit too much.” Stark put his hands up. “The last thing we need is them thinking spangles here wants to start trouble for them.” He pointed to Rogers.
“Russia also has their own groups like SHIELD that are as bad for their love of experimenting too, if you recall,” Barnes stated plainly. “I am sure they too would love to get their hands on a new weapon.”
“Well, what other choice do we have?” Romanov posed. “Has anyone any links in Europe, Australia?”
“How about the Caribbean?” Tony suggested.
“This isn’t a holiday Tony,” Romanov stated irritably.
“No, I get that, but no jurisdiction issues, and I own an island there.”
“You own an island? Of course you do.” Rogers commented to himself.
“Well then, I guess we better get the coordinates. Looks like we are going working on our tans.” Barton clapped his hands together. Hill and Romanov looked at him. “What, might as well make the best of a bad situation right?”
Alexia chuckled to herself before curling up on an uncomfortable seat and trying to continue her night’s rest, tucking her legs into her oversized hoodie before leaning back on the cold metal of the machine before closing her eyes.
When she awoke, she kept her eyes closed for a moment, wanting to curse about the discomfort her neck was in from her awkward sleeping position.
“So you have been training her, you said you were not going to go passed getting her to control it, you lying scum.” Barton’s voice growled.
“I had no idea she had been practising that herself until yesterday.”
“Bull.”
“It is true,” Barnes interjected. “I was there when she showed him, he had no idea.”
“I am actually impressed if what you are saying is true, she knowingly threw someone against a wall while trying to not harm them, that takes considerable power,” Loki stated.
“How powerful is she Loki?” Alexia could feel eyes on her as Thor spoke.
“I cannot tell. I cannot even tell what it is that she does exactly, but I can guarantee you this, she is powerful, more powerful than any could fathom a Midgardian to be. Everything we read and studied of Midgard, it never even suggested powers such as she has, and it is growing with her control, so long as she harnesses it, she will be the most powerful Midgardian to have ever existed.”
“And if she doesn’t harness it?” There was fear in her father’s voice.
“If she does not fully unlock it, then it should remain dormant and unused within her, which would be a waste. Why have such power and not use it?”
“It depends on what one would do with it I suppose. She doesn’t seem a ‘take over the world’ type, maybe a coffee shop, but not the world.” Stark rambled. “I wonder if SHIELD knows exactly what we have here?”
“If they did, they would send more than a jet after us, they would do everything and anything to obliterate her,” Romanov stated.
“That does not bear thinking about. Why do such things to a member of your own race?” Thor asked.
“She is not one of us, though, is she, she is something different now,” Barton argued.
“So what, we treat her as subhuman, how about we cage her for just having a few weird things in her blood. Man, humanity is never going to change is it?” Wilson snapped. “If it isn’t one type of person it’s another.”
No one argued his point. Alexia kept her eyes closed, still sensing eyes on her. She listened to the whir of the engines as time went by; thinking over and over what was said. She wasn’t like them, they obviously didn’t think so, she was a freak, something to be feared. It was all she could do to prevent tears flowing from her eyes in heavy streams as she waited for the plane to land. She thought of what she could do, what she would have to do if she just wanted to be able to live. As Hill declared their ETA to be another fifteen minutes, she tried to formulate a plan.
#loki#other#submission#submitted fic#wolfpawn#chapter 13#the powers that be#mutant#s.h.i.e.l.d.#risk#hidden#experiment#help
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Winds of Change - Chapter 1
Stucky, 46k total, A03. Post CACW. This fic is fully written, and will post
2-3x a week.
Bucky’s still got some healing to do after the doctors in Wakanda rouse him from sleep and make sure there are no more deadly triggers lurking in his brain. He decides it should happen where he can have some peace and quiet, as well as a little distance from Steve’s overwhelming presence. When he sees an ad for a “Winter Caretaker” he takes the job, but it turns out to be not so peaceful after all.
Or, how Bucky realized that while he still needs to heal, it wouldn’t be such a bad thing for him and Steve to do it together.
Chapter 1
“You may stay here in Wakanda as my guest for as long as you like,” T’Challa says, once the doctors have roused Bucky from sleep and made sure there are no more deadly triggers lurking in his brain, “but I did promise Steve Rogers that I would keep him apprised of your status.” The “it’s only fair” is left unsaid, but Bucky hears it anyway.
“Let me tell him,” Bucky replies. Now, several hours later, he is in his room, staring at the computer screen, trying to figure out what to say.
It has been two weeks since he came out of cryo, two weeks full of poking and prodding both mental and physical, two weeks when the thought of Steve has never been far from his mind. T’Challa has gone along with Bucky’s wish that he be allowed to get through this process without anyone else knowing that he was awake. He wanted to make sure it would work, first; that he would no longer be able to be used as a weapon against his will. Now that part of him, at least, has been healed. He can’t put this off any longer.
Bucky opens up a new email, too chicken to call Steve on the phone like a grown-up.
“Dear Steve,” he begins, the vibranium fingers of his new left hand clicking on the keys as he goes.
It’s me. I’m okay, according to the docs here. T’Challa can fill you in. I’ve given him permission to give you the details, if you want them.
I need to thank you for everything you did for me. I hear things are better between you and the Avengers, which is good. I didn’t mean to come between you and your friends.
I know you are going to want to see me, but maybe wait a while? I need some time to-
Bucky gets stuck on this part. He doesn’t know what excuse to give Steve for why he can’t see him right now. Part of him would love to let Steve drop everything and come get him, as he knows full well he’d do. He thinks about the way Steve smiles at him. How he claps Bucky on the back, eyes full of affection. It would be so easy to let Steve shepherd him around, take care of him through whatever confusion is still haunting his abused mind. But the thought doesn’t sit right with him.
It’s not only that he thinks he isn’t worth Steve’s time, although there’s some of that in the mix. It’s something he can’t really put his finger on. Whatever it is, he knows he doesn’t want to be swept up into Steve’s orbit, not right now. He just wants some peace and quiet.
This is the first time he’s woken from cryo without pain, without more than a momentary twinge of fear. Without someone giving him orders. He’s not sure what he wants, but he wants to be the one to figure it out.
He returns to the email, deletes a few words, and finishes writing. He reads over the end of the message, changes the closing a few times (he finally settles on “yours always, Bucky”) and then, his stomach clenching, hits send.
There’s a shower in his suite nicer than any he’s ever had at his disposal before, so he shuts himself in there, using every ridiculous bath product in the room. He tells himself not to expect an immediate reply back from Steve, he’s probably asleep or out on a mission, or busy with his friends. And even if Steve reads his email right away, he might be too annoyed to write back. Or, worse, he might tell Bucky to go fuck himself.
Bucky drags out his shower for as long as he can, cleaning every nook and cranny. He dries himself carefully, slathering lotion on his body, even the tender skin where his metal arm attaches to his shoulder. Leaving the bathroom he pulls on some of the white lounge pants everyone seems to wear for comfort here, and gets into bed. Filled with trepidation, he opens the laptop and checks his email.
There are two messages, both from Steve.
The first is heartbreakingly short:
Dear Bucky,
I understand.
Steve
The next message was sent fifteen minutes later, and Bucky sighs with relief as he reads it.
Dear Bucky,
I can be an ass sometimes, but you know that already. Natasha told me that if I didn’t send you a better message immediately she was going to beat the crap out of me, and she wasn’t kidding (she says hi, by the way).
I’m so very grateful that you are alive. I can’t pretend not to be disappointed that you won’t let me come see you, but that’s just selfish of me. When I stop to think about how lucky I am that you are out there somewhere in the world, well, that will have to be good enough for now. (You do want to see me again at some point, just not right this minute, right?)
I have so many ideas, so many things I’d like to do with you. But they can wait.
Please keep in touch. I miss you, but I swear I’ll respect your wishes no matter what they are.
Yours always,
Steve
Bucky reads over the message a few times, a lump forming in his throat. Steve is so sweet. It’s not as if he really believed Steve would shut him out. He trusts Steve more than anyone, but then again he has little idea what’s been going on in Steve’s life since he’s been in cryo.
He hates that he made Steve feel sad, even a little bit. Logically he knew it would happen, although it’s hard for Bucky to fathom why he means so much to Steve after everything Bucky did as the Winter Soldier. But Steve’s question about whether he ever wants to see him again is honest, and he’s glad he asked it, even if it stings.
He hadn’t planned on getting into a back and forth conversation with Steve, but there’s no doubt in his mind about the answer to his question.
Steve,
Punk. Of course I want to see you again. Now go off and save the world and let a fella get some sleep.
Bucky
He closes the laptop and sets it off to the side of his ridiculously big bed. Bucky knows Steve will respond, probably with a lighthearted joke, and he smiles in anticipation. He’ll save it for the morning, something to look forward to, before he starts on the gargantuan task of trying to decide what to do with his mess of a life.
*********
It takes Bucky almost two months to make plans. Wakanda is pleasant enough, but he doesn’t want to stay here permanently. For one, although T’Challa is unerringly polite and generous, he’s putting Bucky up out of some good Samaritan sense of obligation, not due to any actual knowledge of Bucky himself. And Bucky’s not always comfortable with how people look at him, knowing his history.
Mostly, he wants to go home.
He realizes this as he hikes one morning through the rainforest. There’s a clearing leading up to a little waterfall, and he stops and crouches down, splashing water on his face. It’s beautiful here, no question. People probably pay bundles of money to travel to places like this. But it doesn’t feel real.
Later that night, he starts looking for a job. Nothing fancy, nothing spooky. Nothing that requires him to speak any language other than the one he spoke as a kid.
Bucky knows he could return to government work – a guy named Phil Coulson offered him a spot in intelligence in whatever group has now taken SHIELD’s place – but he’s not really interested in that kind of thing right now. He’s free to do whatever he wants, and he can do it legally, too, thanks to a presidential pardon, a U.S. passport with his honest to god birthdate on it, and a bank account with seventy-something years of military back pay, which is quite a stack of cash.
(He tries not to think too hard about all the effort Steve and his friends went to while he was under, getting the mechanics of his life in order for him, not knowing when he’d wake up – or if he’d wake up. Yet another good deed he can’t repay.)
Sam Wilson had sent him some links to resources for veterans, and it’s one of those that leads him to the job opening. It’s titled “Winter Caretaker,” and he has to laugh at the fitting irony of it.
Winter caretaker needed for Martha’s Vineyard home. Must be willing to do routine maintenance, snow removal, water plants and care for three (very shy) cats. Car for local use, moped and bicycle provided.
It doesn’t pay much, but then Bucky really isn’t in this for the money. He does some quick research, confirming that Martha’s Vineyard is an island off the south coast of Massachusetts. It’s a popular summer destination, but its off-season population drops dramatically. Without overthinking it, he emails the owner.
Within a few days, it’s settled. Nora, the owner of the house, is an artist who seems to be a little paranoid about leaving her home unsupervised while she travels, and keeps throwing out more reasons why having someone stay there is such a good idea. Bucky is quick to agree with her, as he knows from way too much experience how easily an uninhabited building can be used for something unsavory, although he has his doubts about whether this particular location (“it’s kind of rural, actually,” Nora writes, “the island is bigger than people realize, it can take half an hour to drive from one end to the other”) is going to be in demand for criminal activity.
After Nora assures herself that Bucky is the right person for the job (“you won’t get scared out there by yourself, will you?” is Bucky’s favorite question so far) they plan to meet at the house in two weeks, and it’s done. He may not know where his life is going, but three (“really, they’re ridiculously shy”) cats are counting on him, so off he goes.
**********
Bucky may be many things, but he’s not stupid, and he knows full well that the fact that he is moving back to the U.S. is probably of interest to Steve. Except for a brief email exchange a few weeks ago which sounded disturbingly like something Bucky would have written to his old Aunt Ethel (“Hi Steve – just wanted to let you know I’m still doing fine. T’challa’s docs have tinkered with my arm a bit, it’s quieter now. Hope you are well. Yours always, Bucky.”) he hasn’t communicated with Steve. It would defeat the purpose, he thinks, although he’s not still clear on what the purpose is.
He misses Steve, though. It’s an ache that’s always there in his chest, and as he sits in his appointed suite, duffel packed with his few belongings, he lets himself feel it. He’s flying to Boston tomorrow (by way of Berlin, which makes him squirm with discomfort), then taking a bus to Woods Hole to catch the ferry to the island. It would be the easiest thing in the world to give Steve his flight information and meet up with him for a few hours, or even a few days.
But that’s not the plan, and for better or worse, he’s going to stick to the plan.
He starts typing out an email, biting his lip in concentration. Because not hiding, telling the truth when it matters, is also part of the plan, so he’s got to walk this middle ground, and it isn’t getting any easier.
Steve –
I’m coming back to the states. Please thank Sam for sending me all that info about jobs (and tell me honestly, is he pissed about me breaking his wings? Because I still feel terrible). I’ll keep you posted.
Yours always, Bucky
The response comes after he has gotten into bed, but he’s not anywhere near asleep.
Dear Bucky –
I’m really glad to hear you’re coming back, although I imagine T’Challa will miss your sparkling wit.
You ass, Bucky thinks, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Don’t worry about Sam. As soon as we all kissed and made up Tony built him a brand new set of wings, even better than the old ones. It helped make up for the fact that Tony never got a chance to examine your arm – he’s still convinced that the Russians had help, that there’s no way they could have pulled off something that impressive with their “pathetic lack of technology.” Don’t get me started on how he feels about you having a Wakandan engineered one now. He keeps trying to weasel an invitation from T’Challa but I guess the King has more important things on his mind than a play date with Tony Stark.
But seriously, Buck, thanks for telling me where you’ll be (although don’t think I didn’t notice that you actually didn’t give me much of a clue – it’s a mighty big country, Bucky). I’d love to see you, pal. Hopefully you know that. And if you ever need anything, anything at all, just call - wherever you are, I’ll be there (have you listened to James Taylor, or Carole King? Coulson put them on my list, they’re great. Call me a sap, if you want – everyone else does).
Yours always,
Steve
It doesn’t make Bucky as uncomfortable as he would have thought to know that Steve and his friends are talking about him. He’d actually gotten a long and rambling message from Tony, declaring a “permanent truce” and attaching a file of research on how his father may or may not have been involved with a plan to create more super soldiers. “I still can’t tell,” Tony’s message concluded, “what side my dad was on. But he was in control of his own mind. You weren’t.”
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rapid-fire takes on every NHL free agent signing > $1.5M
$1.5M is an arbitrary cut-off, but I figure that anything less than that can be buried in the minors without too much difficulty. in other words, if you’re signing a guy for less than $1.5M, you clearly don’t expect big things from them. also, these signings all took place on July 1, another arbitrary cut-off. here are my takes, in alphabetical order by surname:
Noel Acciari (3 years, $1.667M AAV with Florida)
not sure why they felt the need to give a three-year term to a depth forward (and not a particularly good one at that), but the low cost means that won’t be a huge problem
Sebastian Aho (5 years, $8.454M AAV with Montreal)
the Habs did an incredible job signing one of the sport’s premier young talents to a bargain of a contract. it’s a shame, then, that the contract in question was in the form of an offer sheet, which means it will be a farcically easy decision for Carolina to match it and retain Aho’s services. nonetheless, I’d like to sincerely thank Montreal for signing the first offer sheet since February 2013 and, in doing so, making this off-season slightly more interesting.
Pierre-Édouard Bellemare (2 years, $1.8M AAV with Colorado)
my initial reaction when I heard about this signing was: “why?” but his numbers since leaving Philadelphia have actually been pretty decent, so I don’t mind it for the Avs.
Jordie Benn (2 years, $2M AAV with Vancouver)
doesn’t really move the needle, but he’s probably better than whoever the hell else the Canucks would’ve played in his stead, so whatever.
Sergei Bobrovsky (7 years, $10M AAV with Florida)
as a rule, DO NOT GIVE GOALIES THIS MUCH TERM OR SALARY, IT IS NOT WORTH IT. especially if that goalie turns 31 before the start of the first season of seven. this contract will likely be an albatross well before the halfway point, if not immediately. it truly cannot be overstated how inadvisable this contract is.
Alex Chiasson (2 years, $2.15M AAV with Edmonton)
this is another contract to which a shrug, followed by the words “hey, sure, why not,” would be a fair response.
Brett Connolly (4 years, $3.25M AAV with Florida)
he’s a decent player, but the four-year term is a bit iffy. I’m not entirely sure what the Panthers think they’re doing, although maybe I’m mistaken in assuming that Dale Tallon thinks.
Joonas Donskoi (4 years, $3.9M AAV with Colorado)
I really like this deal, but the fact that this was arguably the best-value UFA signing today says a lot about (1) the calibre of the players who tend make it to unrestricted free agency in first place; (2) GMs’ absurd overvaluing of depth players; and (3) the general lack of excitement in off-season transactions. regardless, this was a shrewd move.
Matt Duchene (7 years, $8 AAV with Nashville)
to be sure, the Predators overpaid for him, but not by as much as I thought they would, so ... congrats? he doesn’t really drive play & the main reason he scored more in 2018-19 than his career average (62 points per 82 games) was an unsustainably high shooting percentage. he’ll be a productive player for most of the contract, but it’s still a bit rich for my blood.
Valtteri Filppula (2 years, $3M AAV with Detroit)
unsurprisingly, an old guy who has been bad for several years now continued to be quite bad last season, except for the fact that he scored a few more goals than he usually does. for some reason, Detroit deemed that to be a good enough reason to give him a two-year contract. however, the Red Wings aren’t likely to be competitive in the next two seasons anyway, so it probably doesn’t matter.
Ron Hainsey (1 year, $3.5M with Ottawa)
well, the Senators needed to overpay somebody to get to the salary cap floor, so it literally might as well be Ron Hainsey. he’s terrible at this point, but so are the Ottawa Senators, making his contract irrelevant. they could’ve given him $10M for all the difference it would make.
Ryan Hartman (2 years, $1.9M AAV with Minnesota)
[see: Alex Chiasson]
Garnet Hathaway (4 years, $1.5M AAV with Washington)
four years? for whom now???
Keith Kinkaid (1 year, $1.75M with Montreal)
he’s not a good goalie, but if he were, he’d probably be making more money. I dunno what to tell ya. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Anders Lee (7 years, $7M AAV with NY Islanders)
ahh, a classic case of “overpaying to retain a guy in order to save face after striking out on better free agents.” the Islanders are now closer to the cap than they were last year, they haven’t improved at all, and they weren’t even that good to begin with. folks, you just love to see it.
Robin Lehner (1 year, $5M with Chicago)
the contract itself is fair value, but what’s puzzling is the team that signed it. I talked about this earlier, but why is it Chicago’s goal to make the playoffs next year? it’s not gonna turn back the clock. the 2013 versions of their core players are never coming back, so they’re just delaying their rebuild for no good reason.
Timo Meier (4 years, $6M AAV with San Jose)
a very team-friendly deal. what’s not to like?
Petr Mrazek (2 years, $3.125M AAV with Carolina)
I have no idea if Mrazek is going to be any good next year, but it’s worth a shot.
Ryan Murray (2 years, $4.6M AAV with Columbus)
I hadn’t actually heard about this signing until I started writing this post, and I’m too tired to do any research. I was under the impression that Ryan Murray isn’t very good, but I’m not going to say any more than that in case I’m wrong.
Tyler Myers (5 years, $6M AAV with Vancouver)
a truly horrendous contract. to put it simply, Myers is replacement-level. I shouldn’t need to tell you not to give thirty million dollars to replacement-level hockey players, but here we are.
Patrik Nemeth (2 years, $6M AAV with Detroit)
Detroit just decided to give two bad hockey players the exact same contract. nothing much to see here. moving on...
Gustav Nyquist (4 years, $5.5M AAV with Columbus)
this is actually a reasonable deal. good on the Blue Jackets for keeping the term shorter than it could’ve been and not overreacting to the departures of Bobrovsky, Duchene, and Panarin. that might sound like damning with faint praise (and that’s definitely what this is!), but that’s better than having to damn them with, uh, damnation? haven’t really thought of a suitable metaphor here. again, I’m tired.
Artemi Panarin (7 years, $11.642M AAV with NY Rangers)
I’m not sure the Rangers’ future competitive window aligns with his own window as an elite winger, but it’s hard for a team to pass on the opportunity to add someone as good as Panarin & it’s hard for a person to pass on the opportunity to become the second-highest-paid player in the National Hockey League. tough to blame the Rangers for signing this deal, even if it won’t look great in the final few years.
Richard Panik (4 years, $2.75M AAV with Washington)
stop me if you’ve heard this before: the price is right for a solid middle-six forward, but the term is questionable.
Joe Pavelski (3 years, $7M AAV with Dallas)
he’s still really good even at (almost) 35 years old, so the first year likely won’t be an issue, but signing anyone that old for that length of time is a big risk. if I had to guess, the Stars will probably end up trading him or buying him out after year two, but that’s a problem for later.
Corey Perry (1 year, $1.5M with Dallas)
I think he’s probably washed, but this signing’s still a decent bet
Andrej Sekera (1 year, $1.5M with Dallas)
not seeing the upside is here, but luckily, the downside isn’t intolerable
Wayne Simmonds (1 year, $5M with New Jersey)
if almost any other team had signed him to that deal, I’d have said it was mistake, but New Jersey has so much cap space to work with that it literally doesn’t matter. mostly, though, I kinda resent having to sit through the same “is Wayne Simmonds still good?” debate on TSN that happened just a few months ago at the trade deadline. (the correct answer is “no, he isn’t,” by the way.)
Mike Smith (1 year, $2M with Edmonton)
why are you doing this to poor Connor McDavid? what did he do to deserve it?
Anton Stralman (3 years, $5.5M AAV with Florida)
this would’ve been a great deal to give Anton Stralman five years ago, but now? woof.
Cam Talbot (1 year, $2.75M with Calgary)
maybe he’ll be alright this year. I have my doubts, but for one year? sure.
Brandon Tanev (6 years, $3.5M AAV with Pittsburgh)
not necessarily the worst signing of the day (though it’s definitely up there!), but it is the most purely confounding. whereas, with Bobrovsky and Myers, I can at least understand the thought process that went on (Florida needed a goalie; Vancouver likes that Myers is 6′8″ and won the Calder Trophy a decade ago), I cannot fathom why Pittsburgh did this. six years?! for an only-OK fourth liner who’s never had a significant amount of hype? who the hell did they think they were bidding against?
Semyon Varlamov (4 years, $5M AAV with NY Islanders)
look, any time you can throw a four-year deal at 31-year-old goalie who’s had a GSAA meaningfully above zero just once in the past four seasons, you’ve gotta do it
Colin Wilson (1 year, $2.6M with Colorado)
well, that checks out. seems fine to me.
Mats Zuccarello (5 years, $6M AAV with Minnesota)
reasonable salary, bad term. or at least, it would be bad if Minnesota weren’t going to be a completely irrelevant team over the lifetime of the deal. so, really, what’s the point?
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