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jungleslang · 3 years

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I'm sorry, but I cannot understand people who say that Elriel shippers hate Lucien and want to cause him pain or are advocating for him to experience pain and ultimately be unhappy. I understand that the mating bond is a huge deal in fae culture, and that it's more difficult to deal with for the male than for the female. But shipping Elain with Azriel despite this does NOT mean that I hate him. The opposite is actually true. It literally makes zero sense.

I've seen this argument too many times throughout the years, and I saw it again today, so I've decided to address it. I'm going to discuss why Elriel doesn't equal Lucien being unhappy, as well as some Elriel and Vucien foreshadowing, and why this could lead to Lucien's happiness. Be aware that I'm obviously biased, and this is in no way meant to hate on Elucien or Elucien shippers. I'm just addressing this specific argument. All ships are valid, and we don't ship shame in this house. This is just my personal opinion, and I know that what I ship might not be endgame.

Also this is gonna be pretty long, don't say I didn't warn you.

I want to start off by saying that a big reason why I don't ship Elucien is honestly BECAUSE I love Lucien. Elain has consistently shown not even an ounce of interest in him for the past three books. Lucien himself also says that Elain was "thrown at him," while Jesminda, his past love, chose him. Elain has never used or shown her appreciation for any of the gifts Lucien gave her (which is her right). She has clearly stated that she does not want a mate. She also currently has feelings for Azriel, and it's been said that Elain "shrinks" in Lucien's presence, her newfound boldness suddenly gone. I'm sorry, but why would I want this for Lucien?? Why would I want Lucien to be with a woman who does not love him and currently has feelings for another male? A woman who literally shrivels up when he is near her? Lucien deserves to love and be loved wholeheartedly. And of course, Elain does, too.

Additionally, Lucien's words about Jesminda highlight that having a choice and being truly chosen are things that matter to him. And who are the people that Lucien has actively chosen to be with? Jurian and Vassa. Lucien is a centuries old fae male, with experience in multiple courts, and he's chosen to shack up with two humans in the human lands. That means something, and it shows that Vassa and Jurian are the people he feels comfortable with, the people he trusts, and most importantly, the people who make him feel wanted. Wanted enough to literally live with them after all of his trauma, after being barred from his home in the Spring Court by Tamlin, a person he loved cherished more than anyone else. And Jurian and Vassa have also chosen him.

As someone who absolutely loves Lucien, THIS is what I want for him. For him to be with people he chose and who in turn chose him. I want what's best for him, and so far, the text has indicated that Jurian and Vassa are what's best for him. I mean come on, the three of them literally created a name for themselves, the Band Of Exiles. The one time we saw Lucien actually laugh in ACOWAR was when he was with Vassa at the end. He blushes at the mention of her and has a "spark" in his eyes when he talks about her. Let's also not forget about this part in ACOFAS:

Lucien says that he's not living with them, the manor belongs to all of them. And even Feyre remarks how he's more comfortable around them, two humans, than people of his own race. I feel like this part is so overlooked. To me, it really demonstrates that Lucien has indeed found a home with these people, a home that belongs to all of them, and that he feels he truly does belong with them.

Additionally, it bothers me when people imply that rejecting the mating bond automatically equals unhappiness while accepting it guarantees love and happiness. Elain and Lucien rejecting their mating bond does not mean that Lucien is doomed to be unhappy and in pain for the rest of his life. And accepting it does not mean they'll be happy, either. We literally have proof of this in the books, and it comes in the form of Rhysand's parents. Rhys says that his parents were wrong for each other, and that his mother eventually came to hate his father, only staying with him because she was grateful to him for saving her wings. That is not a happy relationship.

Also, something that is one of the biggest hints toward Elriel for me, is the fact that every single mated couple we see in the books that actually ended up together had feelings for each other BEFORE the mating bond snapped into place. Rhys had feelings for Feyre while they were under the mountain, and Feyre fell in love with Rhys before she knew they were mates. Nessian's mating bond also didn't snap into place until after they already loved each other. And we also have Kallias and Viviane, who were in love before they discovered they were mates. These relationships all had solid foundations before the mate bond came came into play. Romantic feelings were established before the bond. For Elucien, this was not the case. Their mate bond snapped into the place the day they met each other, which directly mirrors Rhys' parents, whose mate bond snapped into place the moment they met and who also weren't right for each other. (Coincidence? I think not.)

We also have to remember that we have never been inside Lucien's head, with the exception of that one scene where Feyre infiltrates his mind while he's talking to Elain. That one glimpse alone mainly deals with the feelings he has for Elain due to his instincts because of the mate bond. It's also where he says Elain had been thrown at him. We don't actually know the extent of what he feels or doesn't feel for Elain. We don't know if he has romantic feelings for her outside of his instincts because of the bond, which we know is important based on what we discussed above. Yes, Lucien gives her gifts and clearly wants to get to know her, but we don't know whether he's just doing this out of obligation because the bond is so important in fae culture. Which might also be the reason Elain hasn't formally rejected him yet.

I think that there is a decent chance that this is the case based on what we've seen in the books. I also get the feeling that Lucien might be pursuing Elain out of obligation because Elain hasn't given him the time of day, and they've had no meaningful moments/conversations up until now. He doesn't really know her. How can you have feelings for someone you don't know and haven't spent any real time with? There are also these scenes from ACOFAS and ACOSF:

In ACOFAS, Feyre says that Lucien doesn't seem to have a real interest in bridging gap between him and Elain. In ACOSF, Cassian says the words "my mate" drip with discomfort when Lucien says them. This indicates that he's not so comfortable with calling Elain his mate / having her as his mate.

I also think this part is important because the level of comfort the characters have with each other is a distinguishing factor of the ships. Lucien is more comfortable around Vassa than Elain, while Elain is more comfortable around Azriel than Lucien.

As I stated before, this is the only time we see Lucien laughing in ACOWAR. Additionally, his shoulders are loose, indicating that he is not only comfortable but also relaxed, which is a rare thing for Lucien in the recent books with all the shit he has going on. In contrast, there's always a tension underlying his and Elain's interactions. Based on the fact that Vassa is chatting with him "animatedly," I would say she's likely comfortable around him, too.

There are also these two passages from ACOMAF, which I'm sure every Elriel shipper already knows lol.

We can also see that Elain has been at least somewhat comfortable around Azriel from the start, even when she was afraid of the fae and engaged to a fae-hating man. She even engaged him in a genuine conversation about flying. These two excerpts also show that Elain is somewhat attuned to Azriel as well. She notes his body language and uses it to gauge the situation. This also indicates a certain level of trust in him. And this has only increased as the story progressed. He's content to just sit beside her in the garden, she tells him about her plans for the garden, and they stay up late talking to each other. Their interactions signify how at ease they are with each other, which I think is big thing for Azriel, who's always described as cold and filled with an icy rage. Rhys says it took Mor centuries to get Az to loosen up, but he eased up around Elain in a remarkably short amount of time for someone usually so closed-off.

So, the conclusion here is that Elucien is not the only ship that guarantees all characters' happiness as some people say. Lucien is completely capable of being happy and finding a home without Elain accepting the bond, and the evidence is in the books. The fact that Lucien actively chooses to live together with Jurian and Vassa, and that Elain has constantly chosen to be around Az while showing no interest in Lucien is the reason while I will always stan Vucien and Elriel over Elucien. It's all about choice for me, which is something that's also emphasized in the books and seems to be important for both Elain's and Lucien's arcs.

And all Elriel shippers absolutely don't hate Lucien. If I'm being honest, I actually like Lucien as a character more than Azriel. While I am a diehard Elriel stan and I adore Az, Lucien is a more interesting character to me. He was raised in the Autumn Court, lived in the Spring Court, and ended up becoming part of the Night Court, as well. Then we find out he's the heir to the Day Court, and now he lives in the human lands with Jurian and Vassa. He has connections to so many places, and yet struggles to belong. He was lost, and found a home with two other lost people. The Lost Queen Vassa, and a human who was resurrected in a world that moved on without him.

This is also why, in my opinion, Vucien / The Band of Exiles has so much more potential than Elucien. I don't want another story about mates ending up with each other. Give me the found family trope that is the Band of Exiles.

If you've made it through this whole thing, thank you. As always, I'd love to hear your opinions!

#elriel #vucien #lucien vanserra #azriel #vassa #jurian #elain x azriel #lucien x vassa #acosf #acomaf #acowar #acofas #anti elucien

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sweetangelfart · 3 years

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You know that scene in endgame where after tony snaps everything back ...and he just collapses to the ground

I was watching that scene again cause yknow I enjoy the pain it givse me and I noticed the 3 people who get to see him in his final moments

Rhodey

Peter

And finally, Pepper

Rhodey is the first to reach him, his best friend,his partner, the person whose been through so much with him, seen him at his best his worst and everything in between, seen him destroy himself and yet never lose his moral compass knows that his heart is always in the right place......its the familiarity

The same face tony saw after a night of crazy parties and too much booze and drugs, the same face who would tell him to sleep in his bed instead of passing out on the desk while he was working on something,the same face that would roll his eyes ,shake his head then ruffle his hair and just mutter without seriousness "what the hell tony" and then help him clean up

So that's what he does, he gives tony a ruffle to show him, no worries I'll clean after you, ya lazy butt

Then we have peter,sweet,young, innocent yet resilient and strong "neighborhood superhero" peter parker who just wants to do everything in his power to make sure that his idol is proud of him, to make sure that the little boy from queens iron man saved was worth it, that he would be just like iron man even though tony tells him that shouldnt be his standards to follow

To see the man hes looks up to make the ultimate sacrifice he could possibly think of and to have him slipping away right in front of him, peter wants to remind him that he actually succeeded in what he wanted to do and he did it in his own way

So he sinks to his knees and timidly asks him " it's me,its Peter" remember that kid you indirectly adopted that kid you gave a lecture after fishing him out of a lake,the one who didnt leave the goddamed space donut like you asked him to ,the one who turned into ash and smoke in you arms , "its me,its peter" it's the kid you grounded and then proceeded to make a suit for, that would counter any threat that you could possibly think of, the kid who bravely told you that he wanted to protect his neighborhood and stay on the ground,the kid who would follow you around like a puppy and the one you basically adopted just without the official contact being written up,the one you were so torn up when you lost him

'It me, and I'm telling you that you did it sir, we won and we won because of you', Tony is everything to this kid,his idol,his boss,his mentor,his father figure and he's tell you that you did it, its comfort

Then at last,it pepper

The fiery red head who never back away from telling you shit to the face, the ferociously good hardworking confident woman who would put you in your place regardless of you being her boss,the woman you trusted everything with knowing that if anything were to happen to you, shed never let anything happen to what you had build not just cause it was her job, she knew how much it meant to you, the woman you almost lost, the woman who chose you and you chose her back time and again,the woman who truly saw you for who you are underneath all the barbs you put up to save yourself from more hurt and neglect

She sees the sweet,brave,snarky man who despite not even possessing an actual heart would give it away for to anyone in need,shes sees the man whose just given and given his entire life,whose looked out for everyone, whose taken care of everyone,whose guilty conscience EATS him alive every single day,the kind of man would rather show you that he loves you than tell you,the person who would drop everything if you asked him to, the person who has just wanted to be there and tell everyone looking up at him that "it's fine,I got this" and she tells him "we're gonna be okay, you can rest now" every person you saved, everyone you brought back to life everyone you gave another chance at life, they're gonna be okay now

You can take this burden off your shoulders,you don't have to wear a mask or an iron suit to prove that you're brave,you dont need to build up more walls to stop people hurting you even though you would help them in the blink of an eye,you can breathe easy,you can stretch you limbs and put your feet up on the table and say its a job well done...

To tell him that hes leaving a world behind he's wanted to take of all his life, hes leaving it all behind after being told hes done good that its gonna be fine that hes done it and he can finally rest knowing that hes taken care of his own,that's reassurance

...... I want to continue but I'm currently drowning in an ocean of my tears, but

That's what tony needed, that what he needed to have said to him from pepper

ALL HE EVER WANTED WAS A PAT ON THE BACK SAYING "GOOD JOB" THATS ALL THATS ALL HE EVER WANTED

#i am ironman #just randomly felt like stabbing everyone's feelings #fuck the russo brothers #he deserves to be happy #he should have warched morgan grow up and attend Peter's high school graduation and watch harley get that MIT degree #shut up shut up shut up #marvel #rdj is tony stark #tony stark #avengers endgame #peter parker #tom Holland #iron man #rdj stan #rdj

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sxveme-2 · 3 years

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blueberry pancakes // bucky barnes

MASTERLIST

Description: A single mother. Juggling being a mom, a full time pediatrician, and a difficult ex who believed now would be the best time to finally be a father. A soldier ripped out of time. Ex-assassin turned superhero. Learning how to balance a new domestic life with handling demons of his past, while facing the trials of the future. a love story began over something as simple as chocolate chip pancakes with hidden blueberries.

Disclaimer: I do not own any original Marvel characters! All canon plots and canon characters belong to Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. This is an original work. You may not publish it anywhere else

Status: Unedited

Note: Takes place after endgame. I have elected to ignore Tony's death and Steve's leaving. Did not happen. Quick Reminder! My works are only published here, AO3 and on Wattpad, thank you.

Chapter Twenty Eight: The One When He Comes Home

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 2338

Lily and Cedar sat in the lab for a few moments after she posed her question, eyes locked on one another, trying to figure out what the other was thinking. The two were seemingly two birds of a feather when they were younger, but as age and the years weathered them both, they split into two. Neither truly understanding what was going on in the other's head. Lily used to be able to figure out Cedar in a matter of seconds, but now...he was just a shell of the brother she adored. He wasn't who he used to be. It broke Lily to see him like this, but she wondered if it may be a charade. If his entire presence was a trick done by her parents to get their hands on what they truly wanted out of all of this.

"So are we just going to sit here and stare at each other?" Cedar quipped, shifting in his seat, "Learn that from the assassin you let sleep in the same house as my nephew?"

Lily lowered her eyes at his words, a rage boiling deep inside of her, "What happened to the calm and relaxed demeanour from yesterday?" she questioned, crossing her legs, "And don't speak about James like that. You don't know him."

"What? Not Bucky anymore?"

"Not to you, he isn't."

Both resumed the same tense silence as earlier, though this time, Lily's back stood a bit straighter. Her eyes lowered and focused solely on the expressionless face of Cedar. He was hiding something behind that facade of being too weak, but that may simply be the cynic inside of Lily. Perhaps he was telling the truth. Perhaps her parents used him against his own will. But if she knew Cedar, he didn't do it willingly.

"What do you want, Cedar?" Lily questioned, leaning back in her seat as Natasha walked in with pancakes.

"To help," he stated cooly, eyes glancing to the agent that dropped the two plates in front of Lily and him, "To help you, and the others."

Lily stayed silent as she waited for Natasha to leave the room. When she did, the blonde leaned forward and took a bite of the pancakes. Not as good as hers, but not bad. She watched Cedar carefully, monitoring every flick of his eyes and twitch of his hands. The way his breath increased whenever he heard voices travelling from upstairs. He was anxious, Lily figured that out pretty quickly, but also scared. Of what? She wasn't sure.

"I need the truth, Cedar." Lily stated simply, placing down her fork.

He hesitated, mouth pursing before he took a bite of his own pancakes, wiping his mouth before speaking, "They want something they can't have, Lily," he said in a hushed tone, "something I know you'd be damned before ever giving up."

"What is it?" She questioned, shrugging her shoulders, "Hunter? Because I'll take them on myself before any of you lay a hand on him."

"Any of us? You think so low of me, Lil?"

"I do," she stated harshly, voice shaking, "I do Cedar. Rose does too. So does Hunter. So does James."

"So your boyfriend's opinion on me means more than everything we've been through?" He scoffed, pushing his plate away.

Lily watched intently. Everything was going as Bucky had instructed her. He wanted her to rile him up, get his emotions going to reveal something they didn't know before. It hurt her, it destroyed her, but she knew he was right. She knew that the man before her was not her brother, but someone else wearing his skin. Maybe had his heart, but not his soul. This was someone who had been corrupted into something far more extreme than he realized. His actions put so many people in danger, and in harm's way, including Lily, and her son.

"What we've been through?" Lily chucked, shaking her head, "No. No Cedar this isn't about what we've been through. This is about what you aren't realizing. I hold James' opinion higher because he was there to put things into perspective for me when you, mom, and dad, were off doing your little experiments."

"This has nothing to do with him." Cedar stated simply, shrugging his shoulders in a menacing mockery of Lily.

"This has everything to do with him. He is my family now Cedar," Lily sneered, "And you have decided to mess with my family. You stopped being family when you tried to hurt my son."

"Oh my god, this has nothing to do with Scott's either!" Cedar exclaimed, standing to his feet and pushing the chair away.

"Why were you there, Cedar?" Lily asked, her voice as calm as a river after a storm.

"Can we not do this-"

"Why were you there?"

"You can't be serious right now, Lily!"

"Answer me!"

"TO GET HUNTER!" Cedar exploded, flipping the plate off the table, causing Lily to jump away out of instinct, "AND TO GET YOU! TO BRING YOU HOME! SO YOU COULD BE LIKE US!"

Lily stared at the man, analyzing the words of his confession. Her heart raced and chest was rising and falling at a rate that showed she was close to tears. Her lips quivered and eyes were wide. She knew he didn't mean their actual home. She didn't know where he meant. But it wasn't the calm, two story, eco friendly home in Long Island. It was where this new Cedar had been made. Because her parents were going to start with their own family. Make them new, and make them into the icons that the world "needed".

"Well that was quite the show." Tony's voice echoed as he stepped into the lab, "Glad to know Cyborg doesn't just have old gears in his head." The man quipped, turning his attention to Cedar, "C'mon. Don't make this arrest harder than it already will be."

Cedar's eyes dropped down to Lily, who was shaking slightly in her seat. Her own eyes dropped down to the broken plate on the floor, her mind racing as memories resurfaced. The feeling of betrayal sat heavy in her stomach, and she knew that it was her own doing. She should have fought harder for him. Made him confess that he was being manipulated or controlled. Anything to prove that what Cedar was doing was not his true intent, not his true wishes. But she knew that it was, all from the heavy breathing escaping from his mouth as he sneered down at his sister. The way he looked at her, that of disgust and hurt. She could only imagine what her own looked like.

"You've become a coward, Lily." He spat, before turning towards Tony.

-----

Two hours later, Lily sat in her bed with the blankets pulled tightly up to her chin. Tears ceased to fall from her cheeks, seemingly having run out. Her body shook as the dry heaving took over her quiet sobs. No one dared ask to talk, not even Rose. Steve tried at first, and earned a pillow being thrown at him by the broken woman. Her hands were numb and aching from the grip she held on the blankets, trying to hide away from the world. She hated herself for what she did, despite it being the right thing.

The sound of a helicopter or plane above the compound set Lily's heart off into a frenzy. Either someone was visiting, or Bucky was coming home. With Cedar's confession and evidence of DNA altering from Tony and Bruce's tests, she could only assume that they had enough to convict her parents of whatever. But she didn't move from her spot. She couldn't. She didn't want to see him. She didn't want to face the truth of what happened. What she did. She betrayed her own family. But most of all, she failed.

She raised Cedar. She cooked for him, bathed him, did everything for him. She swore to protect him at all costs. Keep him safe from all the dangers of the world, just as she had sworn to Hunter. Instead, she let him fall into the hands of her parents. Those same parents she came to realize were the farthest thing from that. They provided food, and a shelter, sure, but they weren't parents. They never cared for Lily, they never cared for Rose, and all they ever did to Cedar was us him. Convince him of things she knew for a fact weren't true. Maybe that's why he went to them. Trying to fill that hole of not having them as a child.

He was her brother. And she said he wasn't even family anymore.

Her eyes lifted as her bedroom door opened, the face of her son popping around with sad eyes. Lily immediately released the blankets and wiped her eyes, opening her arms to Hunter as he walked forward. When he climbed onto the bed, Lily gave a weak and clearly forced smile. She knew he could see through it, but she figured any sense of comfort that he could get, would help in the times he was experiencing. Hunter sat across from her with his legs crossed, mirroring her own position.

"Uncle Cedar is getting arrested," he whispered, voice barely louder than the wind.

"I know," Lily whispered, nodding slowly as she pursed her lips, "They won't try to hurt us anymore. Ever. I promise."

Hunter wiped his eyes as he crawled into his mom's arms, curling into her shoulder as his warm tears dropped onto her collarbone. The world fell away as she listened to his heavy breathing. Her fingers ran soothing circles down his back, her own pain putting itself on the backburner. Hunter was her main priority right now. It didn't matter what she said, what she did, as long as Hunter was in her arms. He was safe, healthy, and with her. No one out there trying to hurt him or get to him anymore. Because she sacrificed what she needed to.

Maybe more than she intended to.

"Can't you give them a bit?" a hushed voice echoed from outside of her room, "She's been crying for two hours." Steve continued, his voice growing closer as boots tapped on the ground.

"Steve, that is the woman he loves in there," Sam retorted back, "I need to tell her. We also need to talk about her parents' arrest."

"She just helped have her parents and brother arrested, don't you think she deserves a few minutes alone with her son?"

Silence fell. No one breathed, no one spoke. The only noise was the soft cries from the boy Lily held in her arms. Her own heart seemed to cease from beating as the familiar voice of Sam replayed through her head. Something happened. Something terrible happened. Lily didn't want to hear it. She didn't want to know. Whatever Bucky did, she knew it wasn't good. Whether it was sacrificing himself, or forcing Sam to leave. But she figured out pretty quickly he didn't arrive home with Sam. Which only scared her more.

The creak of the door handle set Lily's heart in motion once more. Sam's face poked around, a large bruise on his eye and gash across his cheek.

"Where is he?" She croaked.

-----

Arrested. Her parents were arrested. And she was at her wits end. She couldn't do it. So when Sam told her he didn't know where he was, Lily snapped. She packed everything, put Hunter, Rose, and Joey in the car and was gone. No one tried to stop her. No one tried to get her to stay. They knew there was nothing they could have said. Lily Osborne was sick and tired of being caught up in the Avengers.

She couldn't do it.

No one spoke. Not a word was exchanged as Lily drove back down to the small home she missed. It was enough. But when she turned the corner, a car stuck out to her. One in her driveway she never saw really. She'd seen it, but she and him never used it. They used her car primarily. But her blood boiled as she pulled in and stormed into the house.

There he was, bruised and battered, sitting on her couch.

"Rose," Lily called back, "Take Hunter to Gen's."

Bucky's face fell as he listened to her words. Dread took over his face and Lily slammed the door, her face hard and aggressive. The anger she always hid away fought its way to the surface as he stayed sitting. Neither spoke, neither breathed. The only noise was the air conditioner that warmed the house around them.

"Hi Doll."

"Do not call me that," Lily exclaimed, slamming her keys down and walking across to the living room, "You do not speak right now. You sit, and listen. Because I have had enough, James."

And he did as told. He readjusted in his seat and waited for the hell that Lily was about to unleash.

"You have roped my family into something," she snapped, "I'm tired. I'm so tired. I am so tired Bucky."

"I kno-"

"No! No Bucky you don't know!" She exclaimed, tugging at her hair, "You made a promise to me. You promised me you would keep us out of danger. And here we are, after two weeks of sitting in an Avengers Compound because we were in danger."

"Lily please-"

"No I'm not done talking," she retorted, eyes bearing down into him, "I felt so sick these past weeks. Not knowing where you are, what you're doing. If you're alive! I sat in my bed like the dotting wife who was waiting for you. But for the love of GOD Bucky I can't keep doing that!"

"Lily I'm retiring."

"No don't do that," Lily whispered, tears rolling down her face, "Because you know that's not true. You will say you're done and they will rope you right back in."

"Lily- "

"Get out. Get out Bucky. I'm tired. I'm done."

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always-and-forever-pan · 3 years

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MCU Vs. DCU in Character Arcs

The DC universe made me care about their villains, gave them better backstories and semi redemption arcs more in 1.5 movies than the MCU gave any of their characters in 23 movies, 3 short TV shows and numerous shorts.

And I'm honestly kinda mad about it. Mostly because MCU is one of my 3 most favourite fandoms of all time. They're my go-to action movies. But I've only seen Wonder Woman, Birds of Prey and am watching Suicide Squad as I type this.

To make a villain likeable, to bring them back to a hero or an anti-hero, or even just make them a villain we stan, you need to show something that views can get behind, something to make them relatable. Most commonly that's empathy, understanding of wrongdoing, and an active desire to fix their wrongs.

It's why the Winter Soldier works so well, we were given this assassin who's cold-blooded, deadly, the worst of the worst, but once he is a person again he's soft, he feels bad, he's actively trying to make up for it even though it's not truly on him.

And in direct parallel, we have Deadshot, a cold-blooded assassin working for money, deadly, one of the worst people. But then they put him in a team setting and within hours of meeting the team he has formed enough of a relationship with them to literally risk his own head to not have to kill one of the members. And when Harley's plane is shot down any way he is visibly upset and another teammate actually says "You couldn't have saved her".

And we love both of those characters for that. We want that! We NEED that! But where the DCU was able to do that on a smaller scale for some of their others, the MCU didn't do that for anyone else.

(Warning for some salt from here on)

And I hear you arguing "Oh Wanda showed empathy", and sure they showed her feeling bad in CA: CW but the context of that scene, and the lines they gave her made it so she was feeling bad because people were saying mean things about her and not because she accidentally hurt and killed people.

Like don't get me wrong, I was so excited when they decided to make Maximoff's MCU characters because what little of the comic I have seen made me STAN them. But the MCU butt fu*ked those two raw and I'm PISSED.

Like honestly they had the twins join a terrorist organization. Had Wanda mess with Tony's head making her an accomplice to the creation of a murder bot. Had Wanda mess with the teams head and then Bruce's so the Hulk would go on a murderous rampage with no one to stop him. Had them willingly working with Ultron, only to switch sides when he wanted to kill the entire world instead of just a few people making it seem more like a move of self-preservation than actual good motives. Then summed the movie up by saying "Oh her brothers dead so that good enough".

Only to turn around in the very next movie and have her show 0 empathy about the people who died past "They're saying it's my fault". Then they backed it up by her causing physical harm to some she's supposed to love with 0 hesitations.

Then the next time we see Wanda she's with the same guy we just watched her put through god knows how many floors, and within minutes of them being on the screen together she is refusing to allow him to choose between his life and the lives of half the universe. She is an accomplice to the decision of sacrificing an entire Black nation to save her white presenting boyfriend only to decide otherwise at the very last minute as her boyfriend begs her to kill him (Which in itself, MCU WTF!!!).

Even in endgames when she goes up against Thanos they give her some shitty line about "You took everything from me". They made her character revolve around the love of a man like she wasn't a complete person in her own right without him. They made her fighting Thanos seem like she wouldn't have if Thanos hadn't gone for Vision at the base of it when they could have had 1000+ other lines to make it seem like she was fighting for the right things and not just 'cause boy, love'.

The next time we see Wanda she has enslaved an entire town of people. Is forcing them to act against their will and for her enjoyment. The one person woken up while under the influence talks about how it hurts. And then they brush it off with some quip about how the people should be happy because Wanda wasn't doing it with malicious intent, that it was an accident. But still, Wanda shows absolutely 0 remorse for what she's done.

Now having said all of that let's compare her to Harley Quin. Harley Quin also willingly joined a terrorist, in her case, it was a person and not an organisation but still. The first we see of Harley in Suicide Squad we see her enjoying the pain and suffering she's causing, we see her willingly killing people including herself. And they summed it up with "Oh she did it cause she loves him" which I have some massive issues with.

We see Harley willingly steal, and kill, and hurt over the course of both movies. And yeah it's not making her a hero by any standards. But the DCU never tries to push that she's a good person either.

But what they also do is show us a Harley who is affectionate, who wants friends, who mourns when she thinks her love has died. They make us see ourselves in those little moments. They make her funny to offset her heavy crazy weirdness. They show us Harley who is empathic with her team and later with Cassandra.

They make Harley an anti-hero when they have her turn down bringing her love back in favour of saving people. Something the MCU did the opposite of with 'WandaVision'.

Do you see how those are different? Do you get why I can get behind Harley but not Wanda? And I will always say it but I hate that they made Wanda so HARD to like because if you ignore the red flags she is a BOSS ASS BI*CH.

And they did it to Tony as well, gave us so many likeable characteristics and boss moves, but never actually bothered to address personality flaws that lead there. They just made him go from 'not a single F for anyone else' to 'all the F's for everyone except me'.

They did the opposite to Rogers, made him go from 'countries and governments may be flawed but a single dictator having power isn't okay either' to 'I am going to ignore 117 countries and do what I want anyone even if it kills/hurts/maims your citizens because governments are wrong and I know best'

And I'm not saying that one is better than the other, actually, I kind of am saying that DCU did better than MCU here but the point is you cannot expect an audience to love and support a character you are unwilling to show to have humanity, to have empathy. And I really hate (Mostly out of jealousy) that the DCU, a fandom I'm not in was able to get that and the fandom I am in is still wandering in the dark with problematic lessons being relayed to us.

I JUST WANT A REDEMPTION ARC THAT DOESN'T MAKE ME HATE THE MOVIE IS THAT SO HARD!

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percywinchester27 · 3 years

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@caughtaghostsomehow I’m just going to put it all underneath the keep reading, picking things from all of those reblogs cause why not!

Part 27:

I understand why Max trusts Sam so much... Even after he initially failed him, he still kept his promise later on and he's been keeping it since.

The scene when Sam finds Max in the cell... Oh man.. I was angry at first, just like Sam but then my heart broke for this little boy. Sam and him needed each other. I think they may be soulmates.. The universe destined them to help each other out.

Yep. The reason why Sam is just so insanely careful about Max is because he how what it feels like to almost lose him. And the prison scene changed a lot since it was conceived. But I knew I wanted Max to start out as a physical kid and then grow out of it. He and Sam really were destined.

I'm so glad we got to see how Jody found out about the whole situation and I just love her more after finding out that she helped with the adoption (by the way, I love how thorough your research is 🧡).

I knew Dean would never give up on his brother but it just made me really emotional when he kept calling and Sam finally picked up and the first words out of Dean's mouth were "are you alright?". It got to me for some reason...

I thought it was logical to go to her for a lot of reasons- cause she is a legal writings professor, a close friend AND has experience with adoption as a single parent in the very same state.

Awww... all the Dean parts get me. ALL of them. Especially here because they are so far and in-between in this story.

But Sam wanted his wife to trust him the same way. Unconditionally. He wanted her to trust him with fixing their life, dealing with their loss and grief and wanted her to trust him with rebuilding their life from before the accident.

This is you using my braincells by the way. Cause later on, someone points this EXACT same thing to the reader

I know I've said this before but it just keeps coming back to this in my head, she knew things couldn't be fixed because as much as she probably trusted Sam with her life, she understands that some things just aren't in anyone's control... And Sam wanted her to believe he could mend the wounds all by himself... It's sad and frustrating but I can't wait for them to have this conversation

I know you’ve read part 30 already and you know they touch on this very very briefly but they don’t really resolve this. It gets addressed specifically eventually. His ‘i could fix us’ vs. her ‘I knew you couldn’t.’ Does such for them though.

Chapter 28

Why do I have a bad feeling about that party?

Because. Same. Braincells. Lol.

I really wanted for someone to say that and Sam certainly needed to hear it and I'm so glad it was Chase who opened his eyes about this. He's absolutely right too, let the woman speak for her damn self instead of assuming how she feels.

Chase was me! Yelling at all these characters for not fucking listening to me haha... remember how I told you that people were suspicious of Chase? Yeah, after this chapter, everyone’s kinda adopted him.

My emotions have been all over the place lately anyway but reading how Sam needed to compose himself before speaking about his son's death... I swear I don't have tears in my eyes while typing this- that was hard to read.

I'm glad Max knows... I don't know how much of it he understands but he's a clever boy, I'm sure he has at least a little bit better of an idea why this situation is so delicate.

Awww I’m so sorry I made you cry :/ But, well... Sam doesn’t grieve his son’s death the way the reader does. He’s always been more stoic. Besides, he had to deal with two griefs back then not just one... but I am sure it still hurts too much.

I’ve left it to everyone’s imagination how much Max understands. He knows the concept of death for sure.... but his birth father had orgies at his house. We can all only hope that Max is completely shielded from that since he was using to hiding in closets when there were strangers in the house.

I was surprised by his question too but Sam's response was so... Loving. My heart can't take this.. He's such a great father...

Yep. I mean how else could he have reassured Max? His no lying policy is a great way to raise a child tbh. My sister does that with my nephew. That’s how I know.

Chapter 29

I really like Maddie, she's a genuinely sweet person, I love how helpful she tries to be and that she honestly wants her friend to be happy. I wonder what exactly went wrong during that party for her to look so dejected...

Maddie is nice. I was hellbent on making all of Sam’s canon Exes nice in this series. Cause I’ve had enough of reading the evil ex and current gf pitted against each other trope (Though I’ve never written it myself. Maybe I should and see for myself why it is so alluring lol.) I don’t know, maybe it was little a double prank thingy? Throw the reader in the water and be as mean to Madison as you can?

I really fucking hope that Brad gets what he deserves and that is to be kicked in the balls. Ever fucking heard the word boundary? Consent? I hate people like him with a burning passion and that whole situation infuriated and scared me in equal measure.

Yeah. That asshole needs to go down! His endgame has changed more than anyone elses in the story lol.

The fact that all of it came back to her the instant she hit the water made me sob. She wanted to protect her baby but there was no one there... I just- oh fuck.

Kay that part was HARD to write. All of it. Poor reader!

Was Sam the one to pull her out? If so then I don't even want to think about what would happen if he wasn't there, if they haven't made plans...

The way she started crying for their baby when she found her breath again made me cry even more... I don't know why I feel such a strong connection to this story and characters but I don't want them to ever feel pain like that again. It's heartbreaking 💔

Yeah that was Sam... I mean the pool was visible and all that. I mean of course you know. You read the next chapter. Why am I being a dumbass :/

Something had to trigger her trauma. It wasn’t going to come out on its own and And Sam loves her too much to force her to grieve. He barely held it together when she did grieve so well...

PS.: I'm really sorry you experienced drowning, it's a horrible thing to go through. I don't do pools- or really, any body of water, either. There's just something about the idea of drowning that unsettles me more than I can express.

Yeahh... God bless that lifeguard. Seriously. He’s the only one who noticed that I wasn’t coming up. It was night time and the pool was pretty dark so. I am so sorry that you don’t like pools, either. It’s terrifying.

Chapter 30

Firstly, Ria, you’re TOO GOOD to me, seriously! The fact that I could have you speechless is about the biggest complement you could’ve given me.

If you can call it that and at first when she asked him about the ring, I was surprised but my heart just sunk. I don't think either of them were in the right, I don't think they were both wrong either... I don't believe I'm good enough with problem solving to know what advice I'd give them but I do know that I have never experienced a feeling more cathartic than this one when reading. Twenty nine chapters leading to this moment... All the questions and pining and heartbreak. .. And sure, there's so much more they could say and there's so much more you talk about and figure out but as of right now... This is the beginning of the rest of their lives.

So, I think what she meant to ask was why did he just not give up on her, but she was tired and spontaneous and the ring question just tumbled out instead. I tried so hard for all their conversations to sound spontaneous and not rehearsed you know? Where they ended up touching on every aspect of the past? Cause that wouldn’t happen. It just wouldn’t.

And THANK YOU for saying that. I swear to God, this chapter wouldn’t have made that impact if it hadn’t had a backing of 29 chapters. It would have royally fallen flat. Everyone was invested in the story by now and I was counting on it.

I didn't like how Sam got angry at first because I put myself in her shoes but the truth is, someone needed to get angry about something. One of them had to feel some type of overwhelming emotion to get here and it just so happened that it started with pain and landed on anger.

This is and SPN finale type of dilemma though. Like for the writers, they had to Kill of Dean first cause only Sam had the slight ability to move on. Sam way, I didn’t think the reader would have ever gotten angry first. She is so burdened by her own guilt (undeserved tbh) but she wouldn’t just lash out first. Sam had been angry at the start of the series and absolutely livid in their time apart. I just thought it would be easier for him to get mad first. Not defending his choices or whatever, just why I chose to make that decision as a writer. I would have been plenty mad a reader, too.

But the way they got angry wasn't a bad thing, their anger was based in how much they care about each other. Like the anger I would feel when one of my dogs ran just a little too far from me and a car was coming - took like fifteen fucking years off my ife istg. But I wasn't angry and screaming at them to make them feel bad, I was angry because I was so fucking scared that they would get hurt. The anger wasn't based in resentment, it was based in love. It's the same here and you can see it.

Jesus, I’m so sorry that happened with one of your dogs. Seriously. That sounds scary AF. I’m glad your dogs are okay.

Their anger isn’t destructive. It just isn’t. That much I’m pretty sure of. They’ve dealt with so much shit, and truly love each too much to actually hurt one another with words at this point. And it’s a good 10 chapters of journey where they deal with one issue after another to effing solve it like adults and not teenagers in throes of passion. I was like, nope! Not doing the passionate way. These two don’t get to be smart enough to get into Stanford and then be dumb like that and scream and yell and be jealous or irrational. It added a few chapters, but if I can be patient, so can be everyone else :P

The story she told about the cactus was not only a brilliant way to show her mindset and how people saw her over the years but also so fucking heartbreaking. On one hand you have this coworker who saw her and thought, "that person needs something low maintenance if they can care for something at all" and on the other - you've got this woman who tries her best to nurture this plant and help it grow and it ends up dying anyway.

That cactus one is inspired by real life event. And it seriously broke my heart to go through. Hoping each day that the last pod might live through :/ Like you said her co-worker wasn’t being mean, but it sucks that the cactus died anyway :(

Girl, you made my morning today. I woke up to your love and I just... you had me speechless. That chapter took a lot out of our branicells and I rewrote it so many times just to get it right for it to be respectful, vulnerable and cathartic at the same time.

But may I ask you, WHY YOU WERE UP TILL 5:30 in the morning to read it? I have a timestamp thingy going for me, okay? I knew what time it was over there! And you gave yourself a migraine crying? OMG! I am so so sorry :/ Gosh. If I knew, you were going to binge it straight, I’d have warned you!

Seriously, Ria! Thank you seems like a small phrase. I will tell you this, I love you! So much!

#Ana replies #Ana loves Ria #seriously you make my work look nicer and more deep than it is #sincerely humbled by this #can't word the gratitude right #q

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angelkurenai · 5 years

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Whatever it takes - Steve Rogers x Reader

Avengers: Endgame SPOILERS BELOW read at your own risk

Title: Whatever it takes

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader, Male MCU Character x Reader

Warnings: Avengers: Endgame spoilers

Summary: Steve finally gets the courage to speak about the love of his life in one of his group therapies. The love of his life that unlike whate everyone believe has always been you. Only problem is, despite how you have survived the snap, he hasn’t gotten the chance to tell you that you are the one he wants and not Peggy because he fears you have already found somebody else.

“So yeah-” the man cleared his throat and nodded his head a bit as Steve's attention was all on him, and he felt like it was the least he could do after having failed to do the most important thing that he could of all: defeat Thanos and keep half of existence to life “I'm gonna be seeing him tomorrow too.”

“That's good.” Steve nodded his head own head “You did the hardest part and that's important.That's what matters the most. Our lives are in our hands and it's our job to live them, otherwise Thanos would have killed us too. We must have been left back for some reason and it's up to us to figure it out.”

He looked around the group, somehow feeling like these words had come out of his lips before but he couldn't exactly remember when. Maybe they had, maybe they had not. Maybe they were the exact same or maybe they were a bit different. It wouldn't matter much, anyway. The past five years he had been doing nothing but trying to comfort people, trying to help them move one – hence the group therapy because deep down he felt like it was his fault that things had come to this.

At first it was about dealing with the grief, dealing with... everything Sam had once told him when he advised him to join a group therapy, but after some time he realized the bitter truth that it wasn't about him dealing with the pain of loss. It was him dealing with the guilt of loss, the guilt of letting down people who believed in him, of letting you down. Good Lord, it felt like an eternity since he'd last seen you and he still couldn't bring himself to face you, to talk to you and even more hear what you had to say about him.

He had figured out from the first moment that you were alive, he couldn't bear to live with the doubt of course, but he could also not bring himself to stand in front of you after what had happened with the Accords. He knew you were going to be heartbroken, hurt beyond belief, even more after all these years because not only did he leave you to go to Siberia despite your pleas but also had not contacted you in all those years. In his defence, he'd always come by when he had the time, in secret, and look at you from afar or try to to learn news about you and he was always on the run, so he couldn't drag you down with him no matter what. But despite his reasons, he knew the fact that he seemed to shut you out, had broken your heart worse than that day before he went to the airport and fought against Tony.

Sometimes, when he laid awake at night for ours, gazing at your photo in his compass, he's think how bad he wished he could go back in time and listen to you. Not caring if they got the shield from him or the title of Captain. He'd trade it, he'd give it all away for you. There's nothing he wouldn't do for you but now he realized that he had indeed not done the most important thing of all: stayed back with you. If he had the chance, he'd take it all back for you. For you to smile and not watch him with glossy eyes as he left your apartment after having been unable to stay out of the fight. For you to know, to fully know, how he felt for you all these years and how truly important you were to him.

He wished he'd have stayed back with you when you asked him, that he'd have stayed home but he just couldn't and now he was left to deal with the consequences. Because now Steve realized it, he had not lost just the fight, had not lost half of existence and nearly all of his friends, but he had lost the most important person in his life and he didn't think there was any getting your back. Not that he had the courage to try anyway. He was only left to dream of a life that would've been if... Far too many ifs.

The corners of his lips lifted into a bittersweet smile “I went in the eyes seventy years ago just when I had just met the love of my life. Woke up to a whole new world and an entirely new time only to find out then that... I woke up just to meet her.” he nodded his head softly, looking down for a few seconds “Turns out everything I thought about my life and about my feelings was a lie, to put it simply. (Y/n) is the love of my life and it could never be more clear. I thought that, when I woke up seventy years later, everything was lost but turns out I had just found everything. Real love, a new reason to fight and live, happiness and so much more, more than I would have ever dreamed of. Granted-” he sighed, his smile fading “We're not really on speaking terms right now b-but I'm glad that she's still alive so that matters the most.”

He cleared his throat, looking back up when he realized he had gotten carried away speaking about you “My point is, things happen for a reason and when you think everything is lost... then you always have more to hold onto. And sometimes, we may not see it from the start but, it's so much better than what we left behind and so much better than what we thought we could ever get. The world is in our hands, guys, and it's up to us to do it right this time.” he nodded his head with a tight smile “It's up to us to find happiness and if we do, I'm sure it's going to be so much more than we ever dreamed of.”

The group remained silent for a couple minutes but it wasn't as if he realized himself. Too many thoughts running through his mind, as always these days, so it never really got quiet in his head. It was only a couple seconds later that he heard the small voice, tentatively speaking, as the question registered in his mind “And why are you not with her nw? What happened between you two that could not be fixed?”

He looked up to see Kate, the youngest of the group, ask with small tilt of her head. He didn't respond for a second, looking sadly down at his hands “I sadly made too many mistakes with her. But probably the biggest one is that I- I didn't tell how much I truly loved her when I had the chance to. If I ever find the opportunity to forgive myself for everything that happened with- with Thanos I might, but hurting her this way is something I will never forgive myself for. For letting her believe that...” but he trailed off, the thought too painful on its own for him to even put into words.

One more thing he couldn't forgive himself for, was letting you believe that he was still hooked on the memory of another woman. But he had not had the time to tell you, to show you that you were and would always be his best girl, after everything that kept being thrown at him in his life. If only he'd just let you see how much you truly meant to him, not let you slip of hid fingers like that even more... How no longer than a year after he'd met you he caught himself having completely forgotten of his compass and the photo inside of it, of how much he kept thinking about you and of how when he came across the small object and took another look at the photo... it didn't feel right. It didn't feel right to have that photo there when he spent literally every second of his entire day and night thinking, and dreaming, and talking, and smiling, and aching, and longing, and breathing for you. He was living only for you. He had then realized that he had just met the love of his life because that's how love felt like and Steve was utterly and forever in love with you. And in no longer than a couple seconds after having opened the compass he took out the photo and placed the one who should rightfully be there from the very beginning.

If only you could see it, if only you could know it and not believe he was still looking at Peggy's photo when it had all along been yours. If only you could know... but you didn't.

“I didn't tell her how I felt and she either probably thinks I want someone else or thinks that everything I told her, everything I made her believe about my feelings was, well, a lie after I couldn't stay when she asked me to and I...” he could hardly fight the tears in his eyes, could certainly not fight the way his heart tightened so painfully in his chest and he almost choked on his words “I don't know what I'd hate myself for, more.” he shook his head a bit.

“This has to do with Peggy, doesn't it?” a soft voice asked tentatively and he nodded his head.

Some of them already knew about her, he didn't doubt that probably the entire world did and he hated that even more because he couldn't stand the thought of you having to hear about it from practically everyone when people got to know you and Steve were close.

“Thing is...” he started slowly, the lump in his throat feeling weird and almost painful because he realized what he was about to say he had never spoken about it out loud “I didn't talk much to her about Peggy, sure said enough about my life in the past because she always loved to hear new things but n-not about Peggy. Not because she could find out all out about us on her own b-but because I just forgot about everything and everyone when I was around her. She-” he smiled fondly “She's truly one of a kind and God I love her so much.” it lifted some of the weight off his chest, not all but certainly enough and he smiled to himself, nodding his head again “I'm madly, hopelessly and helplessly in love with her! It makes my heart burst sometimes but it's so beautiful too. A- and it's crazy cause I- I thought I felt love but love is- it's so much more than what I have ever felt, and I had not realized it not until I met (Y/n).”

“But she doesn't know any of it, does she?” the questions kept coming and Steve was probably thankful for it. For the past years he had not been able to forget about it, let alone let go of how he felt about it.

“No, no she doesn't. It's her, it's always been her, but she- (Y/n) doesn't know that.” he let out a shaky breath “See, I have this compass a-and it had a photo of Peggy, for many many years and sure most of them I was on the ice but still, you get it. And when I came back, it was one of the few things I had left to remind me of who I was, partly because of the object itself and partly because of her photo. I always reached out for it, for obvious reasons. Just a look at her photo and things felt better, you know? Kept me grounded, reminded me of the past and made me feel like home. W-well, it wasn't until I met (Y/n) that I actually started, almost, forgetting about it. I seemed to need it even less, seemed to reach ot for it less. She kept me grounded and made me feel good... soon she even became my home. It was about a- a year later, a year into knowing her, that I realized I had actually stopped. I came across the compass by accident and thought about it and I had not reached out for it in months, I didn't need it anymore but somehow I did open it. I felt this need to... verify something inside of me, inside my head.”

“And what was that?”

“I opened it, held it right there in my hand and looked at Peggy's photo and realized it didn't feel the same. Or maybe it did but I realized it didn't feel enough, not compared to (Y/n). And then the photo- it just wasn't the right one. I felt like it didn't belong there so I- I did the only thing that I was capable of... I took Peggy's photo off and placed (Y/n) and you know what?” he looked up with a half smile on his lips “It felt right. Like it was always meant to be there, leading me back home... leading me back to her once the war was over.” he paused for a second and chuckled at the thought “Sometimes, I'd think about it. How if she saw the photo she was going to tell me about how her hair looked terrible or that I could have found a better one but it feels so good, so right for her photo to be there that I wouldn't dare change a thing.”

“And yet... you don't dare tell her about it, about any of it. She's hurt because of it and she's not the ony one. You're hurting yourself too that way.”

“It doesn't matter, none of it does at this point. As long as she's alive she can be happy one day, certainly away from me, then everything... will get better.”

“Are you sure about that?” the man who was speaking before was the one to ask him this time and Steve looked up with a frown “I mean, are you sure she will be happy... without you?”

“I- I only gave her pain when I was around, why would she want to-”

“Love is a complex thing. As much as you may think you've hurt her now, no amount of pain can compete with the one she must be feeling now, now that you're not there with her.”

“Or she could probably be relieved I'm not there...” he mumbled, his eyes casting down because he didn't want to let his hoped get up for no reason “After all, I'm responsible for all of it.”

“With all due respect, my husband was-” Mary said with glossy eyes “A huge pain in the ass sometimes. We've had our fair share of fights, all couples do anyway. And yeah, maybe we can't compare it to what has happened between you and (Y/n), but if there is one thing I can be damn sure we have in common is that I love him so much that I'd give everything to get him back despite anything that happened. There is no pain like losing your other half, none.”

“Well, loss can be... interpreted in more than one ways.” Steve whispered, mostly to himself, his lips pursed for a moment as he clenched his jaw.

“What worse can there be than not being with your soulmate?”

“It's just...” he shook his head softly, his chest feeling tight at the mere thought, the words that came next feeling foreign but so real at the same time and he knew that if he didn't speak about it now then he wouldn't really start dealing with it“I'm scared to find out. I'm scared to know if... Am I hers? I know she's mine, there is no questioning it anymore, but don't think I'll bear to know I'm not hers.”

“Well, only one way to find out.” Mary shrugged softly “You should go talk to her. It's worth the try. After all, she must have survived for a reason, right?” she said, practically quoting his words from before and he would've laughed but he just couldn't bring himself too.

“It's just not that and that makes it even worse.” he chewed on his lower lip for a moment, eyes casted down. They were down for the mot part as he spoke about you and what had happened, what he'd done to hurt you. It wasn't because he wasn't feeling comfortable with them knowing but because of the shame that lived deep within his heart. He was ashamed probably of others knowing how he'd hurt you and definitely of you, even if you weren't there. He was ashamedof how he had failed you on so many levels. He was ashamed of saying it out loud because it all then became real.

“That's not the only thing you're scared of, isn't it?”

He gave them a tight smile, unable to form any words in that moment as the lump in his throat prevented him from breathing in the first place. But he had to swallow it down, after giving them a week nod and spoke softly “I'm scared, even more, that when I go and see her I won't be the love of her life because she's found that in somebody else. Truth is-” he sighed “I'm most certainly sure she has someone already there with her. I know that she does, because I know him too. I know how he's always felt for her so if he had the chance to be with her then why not take it? I would have done the same. Would've... Thing is-” he sighed, shrugging softly and yet with so much pain in his heart that it had started becoming physical he was sure “I'm scared to see it for real, I'm scared to see that she is with him.”

“I keep telling everybody they should move on, I keep telling you guys that. Some people do but... I hope not her. Gosh, I pray she hasn't moved on.” his head hang low as his eyes closed softly and he let out a deep breath “I don't want to see her move on from me.”

“And again... she could be worth the try. Whatever it takes.”

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arigatouiris · 5 years

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daughter of artemis // p.p — [03]

c h a p t e r t h r e e

Pairing: Peter Parker x Demigod! Reader [Female pronouns]

Warnings: swearing; angst [a lot of it]; greek mythology rewritten [completely my interpretation of it, oops]; slightly based off the games god of war and assassin’s creed odyssey; hurt/comfort; cliche; fluff [on later chapters sometimes]; mentions of sex and gore; slight alternate universe

Follows events after Endgame, but Tony, Natasha, Steve, Loki are alive in this universe.

Author’s Note: Killing the links because, no notes means no motivation to update. Let’s hope~ Go to my bio for the masterlist, guys!

Word count: 4025

03 // θείος uncle

❅

The day began for her when Natasha landed her first kick to her chest. Moving backwards, (y/n) stood her ground and didn’t allow herself to fall completely. Quickly shifting the weight on her left leg, (y/n) moved forward and used her hands to throw a punch, which Natasha caught effortlessly. Smirking, the red haired woman side-stepped and swept her leg below (y/n)’s stance, but (y/n) had already fallen for it way too many times to not see it coming. She jumped briefly, and landed a kick to Nat’s side, causing the redhead to stumble back in surprise.

Their training was intense, and (y/n) was a fast learner. With fire in her eyes, she tread along Natasha’s polished yet hard training; not backing down even a bit. Natasha was impressed, but if (y/n) really wanted to learn how to fight, then she still had a long way to go.

Yet, Natasha wouldn’t deny she was curious as to why (y/n) wanted to learn how to fight. If it was something that started after the snap, then (y/n) wouldn’t already be this good. This only meant that the girl had learned before, somewhere, in her previous life; a part that Natasha wasn’t aware of. One thing she couldn’t figure out was this: Was she really okay with training a random little girl after something as horrible as the decimation? (y/n) looked desperate and in the need for training, a story there that Natasha knew nothing about, which should have perhaps given her all the more reason as to not train the girl.

But, the look in her eyes reminded her of her own, from so long ago.

Stopping briefly, Natasha checked the time. They had been at it for over three hours, no break. Turning to the girl, she noticed sweat drop down her temples, a determined expression, bruised knuckles, and chest heaving for breath.

“Let’s stop right now.”

(y/n) cocked her eyebrow at Natasha, almost understanding without words that there was more Nat wanted to say.

“You need a break, kid.” She smiled softly, pressing her knuckles.

“How am I doing so far?”

“If you’re looking for compliments, don’t ask.” Nat chuckled.

(y/n) rolled her eyes. It had been three days since (y/n) had allowed the rain to fall on her skin, three days of anxiety and overthinking, yet, there was no sign from Olympus that they had found her. Did Zeus’ rains not reach America? Was something wrong? There was another thought in her head, something she didn’t think could be possible—was Zeus still around? Did Fate stop for him as well?

“Penny for your thoughts?” Natasha asked, sitting herself down next to (y/n), on the terrace of the shelter.

It had become one of their primary hangouts. It was either this or a park Natasha would take her, only for a change in place. (y/n) sighed before shaking her head, biting her lip.

There were so many things that Natasha wanted to ask the girl, but couldn’t. (y/n) literally asked her nothing, she didn’t want to know more about the snap, she didn’t want to know where Natasha learned her fighting skills from; it was as if (y/n) was not curious at all about who or what Natasha was, and what had happened to the world. Perhaps, Natasha figured, this was her way of keeping herself out of the radar. Ask no questions, give no answers—(y/n) had a lot more at stake than Natasha could put her finger on.

Sometimes, Natasha watched her. Her movements were poised, but was also as if she dreaded everything she did. There was a liquidity to her grace, almost as if she were trying to reach something that was no longer there. (y/n) was by herself, Natasha had deduced this much, but it felt as if this was a fact (y/n) was not particularly used to, but was forcing herself to feel. Sometimes, when she was not fighting, (y/n) was slower, her movements would mimic the serenity Nat felt under the rays of the moon at night; not aware of what the moon symbolized to the girl.

Her eyes were glued to a speck of dust only she could see, a feature of hers was that she got easily lost in thought, but her eyes followed this speck of dust wherever it went, an elegant sort of nothingness that gathered every bit of the girl’s attention as if it were calling out for help.

“I won’t lie to you,” Natasha began that afternoon, breaking (y/n) from her wordless reverie. “I’m curious about you.”

(y/n) knew this much on her own. Anyone would be. A girl appears out of nowhere, a foreigner, wanting to learn how to fight, and fending rather well for someone who wants to pass as a beginner. Eyes glued to Natasha’s features, (y/n) didn’t even contemplate on revealing anything. She could not, and so she would not.

“I’m sorry.” An apology in place of an answer only revealed that there were more secrets.

Natasha chuckled, “That’s why you don’t ask questions.”

(y/n) was quiet.

“I wouldn’t have had to ask you this at all if…” (y/n) paused to word it right. “If my uncle trained me.”

Natasha was quiet. She was not meant to ask questions. Just listen.

“He’s my mother’s twin brother. He was never really happy when I came into the picture, especially without a father to be around and all.”

A second pause. This meant Natasha could intervene. “Where is he?”

A shrug followed silence. A breath followed the shrug. Natasha could sometimes not look away from (y/n)’s mannerisms. So many guards being up, yet, the pain in her eyes was as clear as day.

“He’s never been around, and I don’t think he even knows about me. So, I don’t really blame him. I don’t know who he is, just that…” Pepper, “He’s here. In America.”

“Your mother trained you?” Natasha asked without thinking, and got no answer. She nodded to herself, before waiting to see if (y/n) replied.

“If my uncle had agreed to train me, I wouldn’t have to make you go through this at all. I’m sure you have to figure out things… Like, saving the world and all.”

Natasha chuckled, “Right now, I just want answers. A lot of my friends disappeared. Training you takes my mind off how fucking terrible my life is at the moment.”

“It’d have saved me a lot of trouble if my uncle did help out. At least I wouldn’t feel this…” (y/n) didn’t complete the sentence, but Natasha knew the word. Lonely.

“He’s a dick for not sticking by your side.” Natasha said, smirking.

(y/n) scoffed. “He sure is, I won’t deny that.” The two shared a soft laugh, but it ended as soon as it began.

(y/n) smiled at the ground. Natasha looked at her. It really was as if (y/n) was smiling at something instead of smiling to herself.

After their training session that evening, (y/n) went back into the shelter to rest. Natasha was unaware that in these two weeks, she had gotten used to being around the 13-year old, almost as if there was an unspoken kinship between the two. For the first time, Natasha’s records found nothing about the girl, knowing just her first name proved nothing. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t try to find out who (y/n) was or even if (y/n) was her real name.

At one point, Natasha stopped searching. She knew that the girl wanted things to be a secret, and there was no more reason to be suspicious of the girl. This then truly became something that took the red haired woman’s mind off things.

What she didn’t know was that night, not only does Carol Danvers bring Tony back, but it would be the last time she’d see (y/n) in a long while.

❅

When Natasha didn’t show, (y/n) wasn’t scared. Maybe she got tired of not knowing anything more, she thought to herself before standing on the terrace alone. Tying the tapes around her hands, (y/n) made a makeshift punching bag, and started with it. Natasha had taught her the technique to use a dagger, but she’d need more training. And it would only begin with one thing first: an undying determination.

On some nights, she felt a slight bit of warmth on the nape of her neck, similar to that of sunlight. She knew her uncle would often watch her, but had never approached her. He’d watch in the shadows, as much as a shadow that the sun could be when the moon was up in the sky. (y/n) learnt to ignore him to the best of her abilities, and continued training.

By the time Natasha was gone, (y/n) had skilfully learned how to move around the dagger in her hand, as if it were another finger. There were several cuts, which she had learned to heal over the days, but now she was close to moving it around without cutting herself. At nights when she couldn’t sleep, (y/n) would play with her mother’s dagger, think of her mother’s scent and hair and laugh; but most nights, (y/n) found comfort in thinking of the boy’s eyes, a boy she had never met, but had somehow gotten used to grappling on for strength.

People at the shelter expected her to do nothing, since she rarely ate from there, rarely spoke to anyone, but only needed a bed. Someone had come down, someone named Happy, to run the shelter when May was not around; it didn’t make sense to her that his name was Happy, and apparently he worked for a ‘Ms. Potts’ from Stark Industries. None of this mattered to her, but she remained and spent most of her time either on the terrace or the park, whichever suited her mood that day.

Two months passed rather quickly; for some strange reason, (y/n) didn’t miss Natasha, but merely wondered what had happened, where she had gone, if she was okay—but once or twice in an entire week, and this worry barely lasted. (y/n) had mastered using the dagger by then, slowly, and the scars on her hands healed. She had started to lose some weight in her hips, and her legs were toned with all the kicking she had been doing. It’s relatively easier to fight an unmoving sack of rubbish, she knew this couldn’t count as actual improvement, but (y/n) felt faster, stronger.

“It’s funny you didn’t call me this time.” Natasha’s voice alerted her that afternoon, two months after she had initially gone missing.

Her hair wasn’t red anymore. It was a soft blonde, with some streaks of her previous hair color showing at the ends. Strangely, Nat looked a lot more older and stressed in those two months than she ever did before. (y/n) blinked before smiling at her, wanting to welcome her the only way Natasha would probably want to be welcomed by someone she was tutoring.

(y/n) displayed her dagger skill, twisting and turning it around in an almost inhuman speed, startling Natasha. Running to the older woman, (y/n) kicked her, which Natasha blocked, but fell backwards either way. Her kick’s much stronger now, she thought before quickly moving out of the way, saving herself from (y/n) attacking her with her elbow. Natasha grabbed her by the back of her neck and held her in a block, but (y/n) bent down and easily got out, as if she were water. Natasha’s surprise lasted only as long as (y/n)’s next blow met with her face, causing the blond woman to spit out some blood.

“Welcome back.” (y/n) said, smirking.

Natasha turned to the girl and grinned, “I take it you were busy.”

“I wasn’t just sitting around waiting.”

Nat stood up, and smiled at the girl, not even intending on masking the look of adoration in her eyes. She could clearly see the same unspeaking grace again, but something was different. (y/n) was more polished now, her smile held all of her secrets, but it was locked, not intending on slipping out. Her movements were poised, but spoke to nothing invisible as they had before. Her gaze met Nat sharply, not getting lost in a speck of dust like before.

“I hope you haven’t told anyone about this arrangement, Natasha.” (y/n)’s voice was lower.

Natasha shook her head. “We’d agreed on that initially. I made a promise. But, I had to go. And I need all the distraction I can get.”

(y/n) nodded. “I’m grateful.”

“But I’ll be honest, I really need to know who I’m training here, (y/n). Right now, I don’t know anything about you, and all I can gather from the bits you’ve told me is that you have something against your uncle, for not being there, but that’s it. Your mother’s gone, and you’re here. I need to know, (y/n).”

Natasha had a point. (y/n) was getting stronger, and if she got any stronger than Natasha, she’d be formidable; but, what if she was a foe? What if she was someone to look out for? And Natasha had created a monster? She didn’t want to go through that.

(y/n)’s gaze was glassy; for a moment, Natasha saw the previous poise again. The broken poise of a lonely girl, a runaway.

“I can’t keep giving you the benefit of the doubt, kid…” Her voice was a mere whisper.

(y/n) nodded. Looking down, she felt everything around her come to a still. Patience is an inner pause, a brief stillness, a moment we give ourselves to breathe through our initial reaction so we can move to the place where a calm, thoughtful response is born. Patience is a gift of time we give ourselves so we can give the gift of peace to others. Patience, was something she couldn’t give herself right then.

She thought of her mother and cried.

“I can’t. I can’t tell you anything,”

She thought of the prophecy and shuddered. Natasha came forward and grabbed the girl before she fell.

“I wish I could, oh God, I wish I could tell someone, but I can’t!”

She thought of her uncle, watching her right then, but doing nothing about it, and felt terrible.

“I really wish I hadn’t lost her. She was everything to me. She was the only family I had in that rotten place. And… And here… I don’t even know who I’m looking for.” Pepper. Someone named Pepper. Someone who was in Greece 13 years ago. Pepper.

Natasha held her. She watched her. Said nothing, but waited. But, a second later, she smelled it. Both of them paused, the crying stopped, indicating that the air around them was now different. Natasha looked at the girl for answers, knowing that whatever it was was there for her, and the girl offered no answers in return.

A moment later, a knife came flying toward Natasha, which she jumped away to avoid. From behind the entrance to the terrace revealed a boy, almost (y/n)’s age, blonde hair and blue eyes—a Nazi wet dream—but almost too perfect looking to be a real boy. The symmetry on his face was impeccable, and not a single misplaced hair on his head or anywhere else. While Natasha struggled to understand where this breed of fighting children came from, (y/n) had her answer. From the smell, she knew what this creature was.

This was no boy. This was no human. This was one of the henchmen, Zeus was alive and well, and was sending her his regards.

Holding her dagger sharply, (y/n) swiftly moved forward to attack the boy, who merely dodged everything (y/n) had to offer. But, with a quick sidestep, and a faint, she had him pinned underneath him. And a second before (y/n) dug her dagger into his neck, Natasha pulled her away, letting the boy free.

“I did not train you to kill a boy!” Natasha yelled, glaring at her.

(y/n)’s eyes widened, before turning to see the boy trying to throw another knife at Natasha, this time, impaling her left hand. Cursing out loud, Nat was pushed aside as (y/n) pushed forward again, dagger in hand. Natasha quickly moved, grabbing the girl, not eyeing the boy while he came forward with an intent to kill. What the fuck is going on? She thought, not letting (y/n) go, and the boy coming closer to stab her.

A moment later, an arrow shot through the side of his neck and came out through the other side, halting their movements. Natasha’s eyes widened as the blond boy turned to a pile or steaming hot mud; red and watery, like blood of a creature. Her breath quivered, and she let the girl go, trying to grasp what she had seen. Natasha followed her gaze to where the arrow had come from and spotted a man—light brown hair, eyes that shone like the sun. He looked like he had a pained expression on his face, his bow extended. He was wearing casual clothes, not dressed for the weather, however. It was cold out, and he wore a sleeveless white tank with light grey trousers that reached his knees.

“Uncle…” The girl breathed, and Natasha turned to the girl, shocked.

“What the hell was that thing?” Natasha snapped, witnessing the girl’s uncle come toward her, touching her wound.

Natasha winced, the knife wound hurt more than it normally would, and the man noticed that Natasha understood it was not normal.

“It’s a poisoned knife,” his voice was low. “He was not human, clearly. Not to worry, this is the sort of poison that increases the feeling of pain. A regular clean up would do.”

Natasha gulped. He then moved to the girl, who had her hands rested on her knees, panting. She wasn’t tired, but afraid, she was shaking.

“I need to talk to you, (y/n).” The 13-year old didn’t reply.

“Are we just going to ignore that I’m standing here with a wound given to me by some mud kid?” Natasha asked, cocking an eyebrow.

The man turned to the woman and blinked. His expression was glum, as if he didn’t even want the red haired woman to be there.

“This really isn’t any of your concern, Natasha Romanoff. I’d worry about your wound more than this matter, if I were you.”

Natasha sighed, “Listen, I’m training her. I need to know what’s going on so that it doesn’t cause a problem to—”

“Some saving the world you did there, eh?” Apollo’s words were malicious.

Natasha frowned, but froze. He knew who she was, and he knew what had happened.

“She’s 13 years old and you’re training her.”

Natasha shrugged, “I started younger than that.”

Apollo frowned.

“Leave this to us.”

(y/n) pushed her uncle aside and walked toward the red haired woman. Holding the woman’s hands, (y/n) literally begged with her eyes. I promise I will give you an explanation. Just, not now.

Natasha sighed before breathing out, nodding once, and making her way downstairs. If the girl had promised her answers, then she might as well wait.

(y/n) turned to her uncle and licked her lips.

“You could have died if I wasn’t there—”

In a swift movement, (y/n) grabbed her uncle’s hand and pushed him to the ground, twisting his hand behind his back. Flabbergasted, her uncle broke out of her hold and pushed her down, only to have her flip up back quickly, and kick his chin.

“What the—”

Apollo grabbed the girl’s hands and shoved her aside, but this didn’t stop her. She moved once more, throwing quick punches at him, kicks in between, all of it, he evaded. For a second, he could picture Artemis throwing punches at him, moving as swiftly as (y/n) was moving at that second. Apollo’s heart raced, the girl was exactly like her mother, but she was not giving him time to breath.

Moving to her left foot in a second, (y/n) raised her right leg so high and came to kick Apollo’s head—a move only Artemis had done against him—and made him halt. Kicking her to the ground roughly, he barely noticed the tears in his eyes.

“What is wrong with you?” He screamed, breaking down to his knees.

(y/n)’s eyes widened, and just stared at him.

“Why were you born!? Why?” Apollo’s yells were loud, and (y/n) knew Natasha was right there, listening.

(y/n) didn’t know if the woman had gone down to get the wound treated, but she was right in staying back. She’d get more answers than otherwise.

“My sister’s life turned to shambles because of you. Why couldn’t you just—”

“I won’t apologize.” (y/n)’s voice was low, but definite.

“Of course. You won’t. You’re too much like her. Artemis. You’re too much like your mother. Fuck! It kills me to see you. It kills me to know my own father wants you dead! Just,” Apollo looks up at his niece, his eyes filled with tears, rage, and guilt. “Run away. Run away, (y/n)! Please! I’ll do anything, just give me this. I’m begging you as an uncle, please. Just live. Forget about this prophecy, forget about Greece altogether, just live a human life, please!”

(y/n) is quiet the whole time. She feels Natasha’s presence waver, which meant that the woman was no longer there. Sighing, she placed a feeble hand on her uncle’s shoulder and crawled closer.

“I only want the truth.” Her voice was a whisper.

She even looks like her, Apollo thought before wiping the tears away.

❅

Several minutes passed after that. The two sat beside one another, against the wall on the terrace. Apollo and (y/n) watched an early sunset that day, the whole time wondering why.

“This is way too early for a sunset.” (y/n) commented.

“This will do.” Apollo whispered.

Silence was often what they shared between them. Initially, it was unwelcome, but turned out (y/n) was warming up to it these days.

“You chose a mortal to train you.”

“She agreed, and she’s very good.”

Apollo chose not to comment.

“Olympus…” (y/n) looked at him. “It’s in shambles. The whole place. Ever since the Fates went to sleep, half of Olympus turned to dust.”

(y/n)’s jaw clenched at the news. “Zeus too.”

She froze. “What?”

Apollo nodded. “It wasn’t Zeus who sent the henchman. It was Hera. She’s there. Alive and well. Jealous as always.”

(y/n) couldn’t believe it. “Is Zeus dead?”

“No.” Apollo said, frowning into the horizon. “He’s not dead, he’s not here. It’s strange. Hades has said nothing of the sudden loss in numbers. Souls have not increased, no one has actually died. It’s as if they were taken somewhere else. Some other power in the universe has these souls locked up somewhere else. Not where they go once they die,”

(y/n) was quiet.

“Hera doesn’t trust me. She never has. I saved you today, but if she finds out…”

“Nothing will happen to you, uncle.” (y/n) said, looking up at him.

“I know. Nothing will happen to me, but something might happen to you. She knows where you are.”

“But, if Zeus is… gone, his rain couldn’t have found me.” (y/n) said, putting the dots together. “How did Hera find me?”

Apollo shrugged, a bit similar to how her mother would. “She has her ways.”

“So, are you on my side now?” (y/n) asked, smirking.

Apollo shook his head. “I shouldn’t have involved myself, but you are the only living memory of my sister. I can’t let you die.”

“That means you’re on my side.” She pushed.

Apollo frowned. “Stop talking.”

❅

series taglist:

Those I could not tag, I’ve added your urls here!

@maddie-laufeyson, @mscoloneldanvers, @https://dancing-flame.tumblr.com, @daughter-of-stark, @spider-mendes, @nerdyandproudofitsstuff, @someonekeepstakingmyusernames, @alina-margaret, @yourwonderbelle, @viarogers, @https://huangsushii.tumblr.com, @eridanuswave @oliviaisnotlistening @mizpotatobiscuits @editsbyjenny @abbieroseb @justtrynagetthroughlife @secretlittlewonders @missmulti @shallowshawnshallowshawn.tumblr.com @eunoiametonia @adistiany @justletmesleeptillidie @ppunderoos @myheartonthemove @heir2chaos

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afewmarvelousthoughts · 5 years

Text

Stay Ch. 19

Master: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin

Pairing: Natasha X Reader (Female)

Summary: You have a gift, the ability to see other people’s innermost secrets. For years you used it to gather intel for the highest bidder when you take on The Widow. After she becomes more than a mark the two of you spend years stealing moments. Post snap you wait in your designated meeting place, look back on the sordid past you share with the woman you love and hope against everything that she’s still alive.

Warnings: A little violence (kinda) and a lot of feelings

A/N: HOLY SHIT I AM SO SORRY! I had no intention for this to take over a fucking month. But Endgame fucked me up so hard (in the best way, I think I earned those hurts with the shit I write here lol) and just life, in general, has been NUTS (also in a really good way).

I honestly cannot thank you all enough for being so goddamn patient and supportive while you waited for this chapter. Some folks have to deal with really demanding and dickish followers but I’m over here getting asks and DMs of y’all wishing me well and shit. HOW AM I THIS LUCKY?!

I hope y’all like this one.

Tags are open!

Post Snap: Wakanda

Shock settles cold and heavy over Natasha’s shoulders.

Her gaze has been on the blank screen of her phone for an unknown amount of time. She’d tried to call… but all communication had been cut off, Wakanda locking itself away… A knock from the door behind her causes her to jump, sending the phone clattering to the floor.

“Sorry,” Bruce’s tone is cautious. “The jets almost ready.” They needed to get home… She knows people need them but…

“I can’t.”

“Nat… we have to-”

“No. I have to find her Bruce…”

There’s pity in his eyes, “Natasha… the odds…”

“Go,” Steve’s voice comes from the hall, rough and low. She steps out holding his haunted expression. A set of keys sail in her direction, “There’s a bike you can take outside…” Steve pauses, taking a shaky breath before continuing, “Outside Bucky’s place.”

A touch of warmth fills her chest. He already knew what she’d need to do. Her fingers curl around the keys. “Thank you.”

The moment she’s outside of Wakanda’s protective barrier she tries to check for the message… still, she can’t get through…

A scream threatens to rip her apart. She may be able to make it through the end of the goddamn world… through watching members of her small family fall to ash… But she would not survive losing you… not again.

October 2009

“Fuck!” Natasha bellows slamming her fist against the wall.

Months of searching… this had been their last lead. It came up empty. She was supposed to be the best and yet she couldn’t find and save the one person she cared the most for… not even with the resources and blessing of S.H.I.E.L.D…

They’d given her everything she could need. Everyone from Secretary Pierce to Fury throwing their weight behind this, pulling strings no one would even fathom pulling with governments and low lives alike and still not a sign of you. It was as if you’d simply disappeared.

“I’m sorry, Nat…” Clint lays a comforting hand on her shoulder, she shrugs him off.

“We missed something. There’s gotta be… something…” her voice cracks as he takes her by the shoulders.

His sad eyes break something in her, “There’s not, Natasha. She’s… she’s gone.”

“No,” her voice is thick with restrained tears. “She wouldn’t-”

He shakes his head, “I don’t… I don’t think it was a choice… But someone…” Nat shakes her head like a child denying a very obvious truth.

“Clint-” A sob slips out before she can catch it.

He tugs her into his arms, crushing her against his chest. “I’m so sorry.”

That’s it. A guttural sob rips from the deepest parts of her being and her knees give way sending them both to the floor. All she can think is how you’d feel this emotion with her, how you’d understand everything without her having to speak a word…

Slowly her sorrow is replaced with a cold rage. Someone took you from her. They likely caught wind that you’d turned your services over to S.H.I.E.L.D. and thinking you’d give something away… They couldn’t even leave her a body, couldn’t even give you dignity in death.

“We’ll figure out who did this, Natasha.” Clint may not be you but he knew her well enough to read her. “We will.”

Of that, she had no doubt.

They never did though…

Fury assigned her to Stark because she was best suited but also because he felt the distraction of deep cover would help. It may have but… Being Natalie Rushman reminded her of your night in Tokyo… There was nothing she could do to escape your memory.

Thankfully it hadn’t lasted long. In less than a year she was back to just being Natasha, back to the Widow, working every job she could. The more exhausted she was the less she felt how hollow she was. The more her body ached the less she missed your touch.

When she stared down a horde of alien invaders she thought that just maybe this was it. She’d go out fighting and save some people in the process. If there was another side well, she hoped you’d be there waiting.

But it wasn’t the end. Somehow they’d pulled off the impossible.

By that point, almost five years had passed. Natasha still missed you on a level that felt impossible to truly convey. But there were days that the ache was less than it had ever been. It wasn’t moving on per-say but it was something like healing.

At the very least now she had the distraction of Steve. She could make him a project. She’d never have the life or happiness she wanted but maybe she could help him find his footing. Maybe one of them could have a chance at happiness, at a life.

There was something she related to in his detachment. She supposed the loss of just about everyone and everything a person knew could be similar to the void you left. So many times she thought of telling him about you, hoping that he’d feel less alone in his pain but… He was a man from the ’40s… She wasn’t willing to risk losing a friend over dated prejudices.

Turned out she should have given Steve Rogers more credit.

When she heard the ballistics on the bullet that killed Fury her blood ran cold. It was him…

So many things had crossed her mind then. Not a single one of them had been that somehow she’d find you because of this.

She’d been so wrapped up in the aftermath of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s demise that she didn’t have time to look at the files she’d released. Thankfully Clint had her back and had been scanning them the moment they’d hit the web.

Just after she’d settled into the tower he showed up looking like he’d seen a ghost.

Fear gripped her. Had she exposed Laura and the kids in her haste to topple Hydra… had she sacrificed everything-

“I found her.”

For a minute the words rang hollow and meaningless.

“Found who?” Steve asked from his spot on her couch.

Clint said nothing, just held her gaze until his shot inevitably hit its target. “I think she’s alive, Nat.” He hands you a file.

With trembling hands, she turns the pages. Scarcely breathing. Steve says something but Clint hushes him.

As the words on the pages soak in she thinks she may vomit. Experiments, tests, torture… kill missions… Riots you’d incited at their command, dignitaries dropping from what appeared to be brain aneurisms. Little subtle things she should have looked for and then the last report… February 2014… nine months prior.

Natasha’s knees give out and she hits the hardwood with a thud. They’d had you for five years… Her breath stills.

No.

“Natasha!” Clint kneels in front of her, Steve stands at the ready behind him.

Pieces rapidly click into place. All the subtle ties to Hydra since the very moment the two of you met and they meant one thing. My fault. All my fault. They wouldn’t have gotten to you if it weren’t for her. You wouldn’t have let your guard down. You wouldn’t have trusted S.H.I.E.L.D. You’d had a feeling about them from the start but she’d been convinced you were just being overly cautious.

“Nat…”

A raspy breath sucks into her lungs so fast it almost hurts. “I did this.” She breathes out.

“No. No, you fucking did not.” Clint grabs her shoulders, shaking her.

“I did. She wouldn’t-”

“If you don’t shut the fuck up with that I’ll slap you,” she sees Steve shift in the background. “You didn’t do this. They did this and we will get Y/N back.” She says nothing, just stares at a hair on Clint’s shirt, numb. “Do you hear me, Natasha?!”

Slowly her eyes meet his. “Do you hear me?” His tone level now.

“Yeah,” weakly she nods.

This was the last base that could possibly be hiding you. The last little flickering ember of hope. With cell after cell empty or filled with rotting bodies, that ember was fading quickly.

Natasha thought when the inevitable realization that you were gone hit her she’d go mad. Screaming, tearing her hair, the full Linda Blair. Instead, she feels… nothing. Not the calm detachment she’s used to but a nothingness so deep she wonders if it’s actually what death feels like.

“Natasha,” Sam’s voice crackles in her comm, “one floor down from you, south side. We think we got her.”

Tingles creep up her spine, feeling electric against her scalp. She won’t believe it. Won’t hope. All Sam and Steve had to go off of were old photos… Who knew what they’d done to you… Natasha ran faster than she ever had in her entire life. The slightest chance that you could be alive was all it took to drive her forward.

Honey. That’s all she wanted to hear in your rich accent. “Please,” she breathes out to anything that would hear her as she sprints down the hall toward where the guys waited. “Please give me her.”

“Where!?” They’re standing before a glass wall and part as if on cue.

The figure slumped on the floor beyond the glass isn’t the woman she remembers. There are bones where once ample curves had been, supple skin replaced with dull bruised flesh, thick hair traded for thin scraggly locks, pink lips for cracked grey things. Honestly, she couldn’t even tell if the person in there was alive.

A small sound ekes from Natasha’s mouth before her hand can fly to cover it. Why had she dared to hope?

Clint’s warm hand settles on her back. She doesn’t know when he arrived or how long she’s been staring. “That’s her, Nat…” He says it like she really doesn’t know like you aren’t a part of her very soul. She’d know you… she’d always know you. But were you-

Your head rolls on your shoulders, a groan sounding through unseen speakers. Natasha’s breath stops. -Alive.

“Hey,” your voice is cracked, low, and hoarse but still… it really is you. Clint grabs her hand tight. “How about you pieces of shit bring me some water?”

Still very you. Unable to wait a second longer she rushes to the door. Desperately she tugs at the handle, clearly locked.

“Rogers, a little help?!”

“Are you sure Nat? We don’t know if-”

“If. I know that if you don’t help me open this door I will break your super-powered body in ways you can’t even imagine.” Every word drips with conviction.

Steve holds up his hands in surrender. With a swift tug and a touch of effort, he pries the door open.

Your head rolls in the direction of the door, “About fuckin’ time. Was beginning to think y’all were just gonna-”

Eyes Natasha has missed for far too long fly wide open. Instead of the joy and love, she was hoping to see, terror floods your features.

“No,” your voice is barely a whisper. “God no please, no.” You bury your face in your knees, covering your ears with your hands, “I’ll do anything you want… don’t make me do this, not again, please. No.” Your body trembles, rocking back and forth.

Natasha doesn’t even hear Steve and Clint warn her to hold back as she kneels before you, tugging your hands from your head. Caution a long forgotten skill. This is you. You need her.

“Baby, it’s me. It’s ok. Look at me, feel-”

“Don’t, please don’t.” Your head shakes back and forth, “They lied, whatever they promised you is a lie. You won’t win, just go. Go. I can’t… I-”

“Y/N,” she tilts your chin up. Red rimmed, fearful eyes, gaze at her. “It’s me.”

“No. Leave, they’re gonna make me… just go. Go now. Tell ‘em I’ll do whatever it is, just leave… please… don’t make me do this…”

She shakes her head, “Do what? Baby, I-”

“Go!” You roar. Behind the word is something else. A force so strong it knocks the wind from Natasha’s chest. “Get out!”

She can’t breathe, her heart begins to trip over itself. Panic, terror, pain, all combine making her brain misfire in every direction. A low keening rises from you, with the sound the emotions become more and more pronounced. Natasha can’t even reach her concern for you anymore, there’s only this, this inescapable feeling of pure fear. Curling into a ball she tries to focus.

Slowly you rise, looking down at her. When her eyes meet yours she’s struck by how black they are, the pupils so huge they seem to take up more space than your irises ever did. They look… inhuman. For a second it quells the suffocating fear.

“Please…” Desperately Natasha reaches up for you, silently begging you to know her, all of her, in that way only you can. Instead, your hand slowly lowers, aimed for her head.

This is fine, Nat thinks, eyes closing. Strangely, she’s at peace with the thought that if she died here, by your hand, at least then you’d feel her, know she came for you even if she was too late.

The distinct crackling of electricity followed by a thud beside her meets her ears. Breath begins to fill her chest as her heart slows. Something happened to you… A new sense of panic breaks her from the stupor she’d fallen into.

You’re unconscious, one of Clint’s shock arrows stuck to your back. Vaguely, Natasha is aware of the shuffling feet near the door. Someone grabs her shoulders. Logically, she knows they’re helping her up but she isn’t operating on logic. Without thought, she blindly lunges at this faceless person. Flesh contacting flesh with an effective smack.

Ignoring everything and everyone else she crawls to you ripping the arrow off your limp body tugging you into her arms. With every ounce of strength, she has she clutches your back to her chest. Your head lolls on her shoulder as she presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I’ve got you,” Natasha whispers against your skin. “I’ve got you. It’s ok. It’s gonna be ok. You’re gonna be ok, baby.” Tears burn the backs of her eyes, pricking like a thousand needles. She refuses to allow them to fall. Tears won’t help you.

“Nat?” Clint’s voice is level like he’s speaking to one of the kids. “Nat, we need to get her some help. Will you let us do that?”

Clarity dawns. Her eyes scan the room to find Steve rubbing his neck. It was Steve who she’d lashed out at. “St… Steve?”

“I’m ok,” his smile is weak but he’s sincere. “Will you let me carry her?”

The thought of letting you go… but Clint was right. Your skin feels clammy, your breath shallow… scarily so… Natasha nods and he cautiously approaches, not wanting another fist to the throat.

Steve lifts you from her arms like you weigh nothing. Despite his bulk, he’s so gentle, ensuring you’re supported properly. Clint and Sam flank her, making sure she’s steady on her feet before trekking to the jet.

Immediately Sam begins hooking you up to oxygen and a saline drip. He says something about your oxygen levels and heart rate that doesn’t sink in. All Natasha can do is stare at you, horrified and amazed in equal measure that somehow you’re back with her. Somehow after all these years, she has you again.

“This isn’t fucking necessary, Tony!” Natasha shakes with rage.

“I think all present parties would disagree.”

Her eyes desperately scan the room for backup but even Clint averts his gaze.

“I don’t know if you blacked out back there but all of us damn near flipped shit when your girl in there did. She’s a bomb and we have no idea what the trip wire is. Until we know exactly what’s going on we need to control the environment she’s in.” Tony collapses in a chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t like it either, Nat but he’s right. We have to play it safe. For her sake as much as ours.” Clint looks so tired…

She shakes her head, “She… she won’t know she’s safe… that-” I’m here… Natasha can’t finish the statement though because she knows that’s part of the point. Seeing her had set you off.

“We’re gonna have to keep her partially sedated for at least a few days anyway, Nat.” Sam offers a half smile when she glares at him. “The withdraws from whatever they had her on will be rough, it’d be cruel to keep her fully conscious while she goes through the first part of them. She’ll come to slowly so the change doesn’t shock her.”

She knows Sam’s right. They’d had you on some sick mix of heroin and other chemicals for longer than they knew. It was the perfect combination to keep you desperate and pliable without harming your mind, leaving you an effective weapon for them.

But when she looks at your unconscious form through the view screen she just wants to hold you. Truly it feels as though her whole body is aching to wrap around yours. She wants to be the first thing you see when you wake up but… they took that from you both.

Sam wraps an arm around her shoulders, “I’ll make sure she knows she’s safe, Natasha. Promise.”

Post Snap

The rain had slowed but that only meant that cold could settle in. That kind of cold that makes your insides ache.

You can’t bring yourself to move, all you can do is focus on the pain and what it reminded you of…

November 2014

Your whole body throbbed with pain. A deep, aching, hungry kind of pain. It was familiar but you weren’t certain of it until your stomach clenched.

Without ceremony, you lean over the side of the bed and heave, nothing but bile burning up your dry throat.

After you refused to kill the woman they sent you should have known they’d do this. It never took very long for withdrawal to set in and the last time it had been enough to break you… They’d send her in soon enough… And Natasha’s face or not you were fairly certain you’d end her life if it meant stopping the pain.

Anyway, it wasn’t Natasha… Hell, sometimes you wondered if there ever was a Natasha. Maybe your brain, in hopes of surviving, crafted some fantasy to comfort you…

You heave again, abdominal muscles screaming from the effort. “Fuck,” you groan, wiping your cracked lips on your arm.

It’s not until you collapse back into the bed that you realize you’re in a different cell, and this bed… well, it’s possibly the most comfortable thing you’ve felt in years. Interesting tactic for them to take.

The door opens cautiously. A dry laugh tumbles from you. Even if you wanted to attack whoever was on the other side you don’t have it in you. It’s strange though, caution isn’t usually their style.

Slowly a man with a kind smile comes into focus, a tray in his hands. He’s not in uniform, just plain street clothes. Your head cocks to the side, trying to put these pieces in place.

“Hey, thought you may want something on your stomach. Better than heaving up nothing.”

You say nothing, eyes narrowing. Focus, Y/N. Read him, come on. But your brain isn’t in the mood to obey you.

As he approaches, instinctively you curl into yourself. Thoughts of other men, other cells, flash rapidly through your mind setting your heart to thundering. The familiar feeling of your chest splitting open begins but you fight to maintain control. If they thought you attacked him…

The man clears his throat shaking his head a bit as if to fend off a fly. “I’m not going to hurt you.” Slowly he sets the tray of food at the end of the bed. “You can tell if I’m lying right?”

He extends a hand just close enough for you to reach. For a long moment, you just stare at it, confused, trying to work out what the trap here is. It’s always something there’s always something. But maybe if you played along they’d give you want you needed to make the aching stop. Fuck, you just want it to stop.

Hesitantly you let your fingers graze the back of his hand.

Quick as though you touched a hot stove you withdraw. Bad idea. You couldn’t control it. So many images tumble in your mind. Faces, names, voices. A small sound comes from you as your hands grasp your head, trying to keep it from flying apart.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Are you ok? Can you open your eyes?” Sam, his name was Sam, is kneeling beside the bed looking up at you with earnest eyes.

Slowly things come back into focus and you know one thing for certain. He’s not lying to you. This Sam, whoever he may be, does want to help you. You don’t trust him, he could be being used, but it’s been a long time since someone was near you that didn’t mean you harm.

“I… it was too much at once…” Your body relaxes a touch, “Thank you, Sam.”

There’s that familiar flash of surprise before he responds, “Wanna tell me your name?”

“Y/N.”

“Good to meet you,” his smile is true. “Think you can eat something?” Blankly you stare at the trey, the thought of eating making your abdomen clench. “If you can eat a bit I can give you something that’ll help with the pain.”

Saltine crackers had never looked so appealing and horrifying all at once. Taking a deep breath you scoot down the bed and pick one up with a shaky hand.

The salt explodes on your tongue as though it’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted. Your stomach growls demanding more. In an instant you’re reaching for another cracker.

“Take it slow,” Sam smiles brightly as he pulls up a chair close enough to be personable but not uncomfortable. “If you’re feeling hungry that’s a good sign. Means your system is getting closer to being clear.”

“What’d they have me on?” You ask before taking a deep drink of water.

A muscle in his jaw ticks, “It was a cocktail. An addictive one.”

You didn’t really need the details, nor did you want them in all honesty. Knowing wouldn’t change anything. One thing you did want to know…

“Where am I?”

Sam holds your gaze, clearly weighing his response carefully. “Somewhere safe.”

“That’s a shit answer.” Your hands shake as you sip the oversized mug of broth. It’s hot and stings your chapped lips a bit but you nearly groan from the taste.

“True.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’re in New York. With people who want to help you. Can that be enough for now?” His sincerity hits you, a warm wave of emotion, unlike anything you’ve felt in so long.

You’re too tired to fight, “For now.” The half-empty mug clatters to the trey as it slips from your hands. Mindlessly you itch at your arms, every nerve feels like it’s tingling, almost enough to drive you crazy.

Sam stands, crossing the room. Your eyes follow him as he places his thumb on a pad causing a small door to open. “This will help that.” He holds up a vile and syringe.

Fear chills your over-warm body instantly. However, your eyes light on your arms, scratch marks red and irritated, and despite the food, everything still hurts… badly. Plus, who gave a fuck what you wanted. He may be kind but you were still in a cell, still a prisoner.

Habitually you hold your arms out. With a gentle touch, he grips your wrist, locating a non-ruined vein and injects whatever new concoction these helpful people have for you.

As it works its way through your blood the aching does quiet some, your nerves stop their incessant tingling. A deep sigh escapes you. Whatever it was it felt good. You’re not sure if it’s the drugs, the food, or just soul-deep exhaustion but your eyes flutter and you sway.

“Here,” Sam grips your shoulders, guiding you to the plush pillows. Suddenly you see a flash from him.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“For what?” Through your half-lidded eyes, you see his confused expression and feel just a touch of fear.

“Your friend. Riley. I’m sorry.”

He looks away, clearing his throat. “Thanks.” When he looks back his eyes are glassy, “Get some rest, Y/N. I’ll check back in on you soon.”

It had been six… no seven days… They blurred together into one purgatorial haze.

Natasha hadn’t left the observation room off your cell the entire time. Sleeping on a cot next to the viewscreen just to feel closer to you… when she slept that was. But after Sam had assured her that his exchange with you earlier was an excellent sign she couldn’t seem to keep her eyes open. That little touch of relief better than any sleeping pill.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been out but a sudden cry instantly pulls her from sleep.

You’re still in the bed, very much unconscious, but… You’re thrashing, so much so it’s hard to tell if you’re not seizing. The only thing convincing her that you’re in the grips of a terrible dream is the cries of terror filling her ears. Then…

“Natasha!” Your desperation and pain feel like a bullet straight through her heart. A red light flashes in the observation room, the others are coming, she has to get in there now before anyone can stop her.

“Natasha! Don’t!”Clint’s voice barely hits her ears as the door to your cell slams shut behind her.

For a moment she can’t breathe or move. The air of your cell is thick, swamp-like with your emotions. Taking a deep breath she gathers herself.

With effort, she focuses on every good memory she has of you, every happy moment, every safe tender night and… love. She pulls that core emotion around her like a cloak hoping it will somehow reach you.

“Get out of there, Natasha!” Tony’s voice is harsh through the speaker. She ignores him, almost to you.

A scream accompanied with a wave of abject terror and images of a lab almost send her to her knees. She doesn’t falter though, tears stream down her cheeks, her body shakes but still, she moves toward your thrashing form.

Slowly she lowers herself onto the edge of the bed, laying on her side. Her arms wrap around you, pinning your arms. Her legs do the same around yours holding you steady.

“No!” You screech as your head flings back. She barely avoids the hit.

She’s not feeling the fear you’re pumping out though, not anymore. All she feels is relief. It springs from some part of her she had forgotten about. You’re in her arms, the ache she’s felt for years quieting.

“Y/N, you’re dreaming baby.”

“Natasha, no!” You sob as an image of her own bloody body slams into her. She just holds you tighter.

“That’s not me. I’m right here. I’ve got you, Y/N.” She feels a shift in your body. “Do you hear me? Focus on my voice baby… Come back to me, Y/N… please.”

You gasp, “N… Natasha…”

“That’s right.” You’re no longer thrashing so she slides her hands to grasp yours. “It’s me.” Natasha keeps her mind focused on all those good memories that got her from the door to the bed. Focused on the love she feels for you.

A thick sob bubbles from you causing your torso to shake. You try to turn in her arms and panic grips her, remembering your reaction in the base.

“Keep your eyes closed ok? Can you do that for me?”

You nod and she helps you turn to face her. You’re so gaunt, so clearly battered, but somehow still so fucking beautiful to her.

A trembling hand releases hers rising to find her face. Natasha hears the speaker click, but her free hand shoots up, signaling them to shut up. Your fingers lay gently on her cheekbone, from there they slowly trace her features stopping on her lips.

In a movement as natural to the both of you as breathing you pull one another even closer, your lips fitting together perfectly.

Natasha nearly cries out with joy at that long forgotten warm feeling of love that always flowed form you when your lips met hers. It was thick and golden like-

“Honey.”

@mywinterwolf @disagreetoagree @breezy1415 @peachthatdrinkslemonade @5aftermidnight @jeromethepsycho @marvel-randomness @daniellajocelyn @katecolleen @yanginginthere @wonderlandmind4 @piensa-bonito @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @lesbian-girls-wayhaught @siriuslycloudy2 @alphalesbianwolf @sxph-t @marvelb00kwolf @itsqueenofchains @demonlover87 @firegoblet01

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow x reader #queer fic

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francesderwent · 4 years

Note

are there are songs from reputation that you think work really well for delena?

A WONDERFUL question, anon!!! I went slightly overboard. In my defense, the intersection of Taylor and TVD is one of my great loves.

Firstly: reputation as an album has its own, overall story arc, which fits Delena pretty neatly! Just as reputation begins with the very rock bottom, and has to work its way upwards to the happily-ever-after which is truly earned because it’s found where there seems to be no hope – so, too, Damon and Elena meet each other in each of their darkest moments. Damon has lost and been betrayed by Katherine, Elena is still devastated by her parents’ death. Damon is distanced from his humanity; Elena is far from her true magnetically charismatic self. But they see and recognize each other, even through their pain. And they love each other. They find peace together, in the midst of all the darkness and craziness and people insisting it can never work.

That said, there are some individual songs that really scream “DELENA”

“…ready for it?” is the “it is right, just not right now” of songs. As such, it is more from Damon’s perspective than Elena’s – as soon as Elena figures out “I know I’m gonna be with you” she does not “take her time,” she makes the jump straight from 0 to 100. Also, the line “in the middle of the night in my dreams, you should see the things we do, baby”, paired with the restraint of the next line insisting on taking time, is a little reminiscent of Friday Night Bites, wherein Damon says he’s going to sneak into the Gilbert house in the middle of the night and do with little cheerleader Elena whatever he wants…and then he breaks in and just tenderly watches her sleep.

“End Game” has three perspectives, so if you squint I think it can be about the love triangle: Damon proclaims, “I got a bad boy persona, that’s what they like / you love it, I love it too cause you my type / you hold me down and I protect you with my life”. Stefan’s verse is both a little gentler and a little more cautious: “For all your beautiful traits and the way you do it with ease / for all my flaws, paranoia, and insecurities / I made mistakes and made some choices that’s hard to deny…I’ve passed days without fun, this endgame is the one”. (Bonus points for “it’s easier to ignore it, believe me, ” because Stefan is King of Denial.) And finally, we find Elena’s perspective in the bridge: “I don’t wanna be just another ex-love you don’t wanna see / I don’t wanna miss you like the other girls do.” She doesn’t want to lose either of them – but it’s the one who “calls my bluff on all my usual tricks” that she eventually chooses.

“I Did Something Bad” is not a Delena song. I’d posit that the first verse is Katherine and the second verse is Rebekah.

“Don’t Blame Me” is more of a Damon/Katherine song, but there’s something kind of charming about imagining a Damon in-love-with-Elena saying “don’t blame me, love made me crazy” when he’s accused of doing something nice or self-sacrificial.

“Delicate” reminds me a lot of pre-relationship s4 Delena, when Elena has just turned and is most self-conscious about who she is and how she’s perceived by her friends and family. Damon looks at her and sees not a problem to be fixed, but the woman he loves, the most alive he’s ever seen her. Also “sometimes when I look in your eyes, I pretend you’re mine, all the damn time” is a big time Delena mood.

“Look What You Made Me Do” is sort of the universal humanity-switch song.

“So It Goes” is one of Taylor’s saddest songs, tbh, because the phrase “so it goes” expresses a kind of determined inevitability. And in the past – in “Style” and in “You Are In Love” – she’s used the phrase to describe the way that relationships progress, how things fall into place despite difficulties. Even though he’s been out and about with other girls, they fall back together because they can’t stop thinking about each other. Relationships that start with one look in a dark room progress inevitably to pictures kept in an office downtown. In 1989 particularly, Taylor insists stubbornly that as long as you have the courage to stay, things can work out. As long as nobody leaves, things move along a set pathway: so it goes. But with “So It Goes”, the track, what happens inevitably isn’t staying together, it’s not the relationship growing closer and more real. It’s falling together and falling apart, and “doing a number” on each other. What’s fated is the whole progression of believing that you’ve found something to keep, and then finding it’s just another thing to lose. Destiny becomes fatalism. And this, long story short, is pretty s5 delena. For a moment, it looks like the love that pushed them both to be better versions of themselves is just going to twist and fall apart, like everything else that’s disappointed them in the past. The magnetism and chemistry is still there - “'cause we break down a little, but when I get you alone, it’s so simple” – but now it looks like it could be leading them to their doom.

“Gorgeous” fits pretty neatly into s3 Delena, particularly that one time when Damon is distracting Rebekah and Elena is distracting Stefan and they’re both mad about it. Also, “you should think about the consequence of you touching my hand in a darkened room” is CLEARLY the hand-holding in the motel-room-of-sexual-tension, and the consequence is making out on the ice machine and embarrassing Jeremy.

“Getaway Car” is not a Delena song, as it is pretty clearly a Katherine song: “us traitors never win…that was the last time you ever saw me”. But it does kind of describe the season 3 finale moment when Elena says she picks Stefan, “but maybe if we had met first…” She was the first to leave, because she was thinking of the place where they first met – but she was wrong about where they first met, and that changed the whole arc of the story.

“King of My Heart” is a nice counter-point to “…ready for it?”, encapsulating how as soon as Elena realizes she loves Damon, she is “all at once” totally confident, totally committed, all-in. “Your love is a secret I’m hoping, dreaming, dying to keep” is very Delena, as is “is this the end of all the endings? my broken bones are mending”. “Baby, all at once, this is enough.”

“Dancing With Our Hands Tied” is another s4-5 early relationship fate-fighting bop. “I’d kiss you as the lights went out, swaying as the room burned down, I’d hold you as the water rushes in if I could dance with you again” particularly reminds me of “I wanted to dance with you today”.

“Dress” is THE Delena song, because everyone thinks it’s just about sex - but it’s about someone seeing who you are, and about belonging to someone so deeply that it’s written all over you. It’s about all the things which define you suddenly having a new meaning because of how truly you know you are loved. “Everyone thinks that they know us, but they know nothing” = “What do they know about us?”. “Even in my worst times, you could see the best of me” = “I like you now, just the way that you are.” She doesn’t?? want him like a best friend????

“This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things” is a pretty great anthem for Damon “the fun brother” Salvatore and Elena “just as crazy as me” Gilbert. Y’all know I love forgiveness and believe it is the truest kind of strength, but Elena and Damon both have petty sides, for sure. This song is the moment where Elena walks in on Damon and the boys playing a drinking game to celebrate Katherine’s demise, and she says if anyone’s going to drink to it, she is.

“Call It What You Want” feels like a mid-s6 song to me, before Elena’s gotten her memories back, but when she’s beginning to realize just how lucky she is to have Damon back. She doesn’t fully understand it yet – “call it what you want” – but she knows somehow that despite everything, this is where she belongs: “And I know I make the same mistakes, every time / bridges burn I never learn / at least I did one thing right.” “You don’t need to save me, but would you run away with me” marks the decision to become human together.

“New Year’s Day” is sort of the perfect song for all the bookends of Damon and Elena’s story. First, “there’s glitter on the floor after the party…you and me from the night before”: her eighteenth birthday party, the first time she realized she loved him. “I stay when you’re lost and I’m scared and you’re turning away”: no matter what, they always survive. “I want your midnights”: the epic moments, the night of Miss Mystic Falls, the night at the motel, the night of the meteor shower thunderstorm – “but I’ll be cleaning up bottles with you on new year’s day”: the everyday moments, cooking and sitting together on the sofa and going to parent-teacher conferences. But midnight and new years day also symbolize the wild, powerful, heightened life of immortality and their peaceful, homey life with their family. The song ends on “there’s glitter on the floor after the party…you and me forevermore”: Alaric and Jo’s wedding, when they decided they’re going to get married and be human together.

#asks #delena #this is me admitting I need a music tag #dsotd #tvd #delena swift

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themissingmarvel · 5 years

Text

Tell Him

((I took a lot of liberties with this. I also kept some characters alive because fuck you I do what I want and it fits better. I changed a bit because also fuck you I do what I want and it fits my story. It’s got Endgame spoilers like crazy so if you haven’t seen it and don’t want spoilers, save this and move on. Or read it and get spoiled idc live your best life. I plan on making this a series, depending on how it goes over. Or just in general cause I like this.

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Angst, talk of death))

Harder!

Sweat was beading on your forehead as you felt your heart race.

HARDER!

You could feel your muscles aching, sore. Your body was fighting as hard as it could.

Don’t stop!

Now you could feel it in your lungs, your breathing hard and labored, panting as you could feel the sweat dripping off your body.

Keep going!

Your body hurt. Your lungs ached. Your hair was sticking to your head and neck. Every fiber in your being was pushing you forward, past what you even knew what you were capable of. Your mind was blank, filled with only one thought. One need. One desire. You only wanted one thing as you pushed your body past its limits.

“Hey!”

A voice echoed in the gym, snapping you from your trance as you suddenly stopped slamming your fists into the punching bag that had honestly seen better days. Bucky was walking towards you, concern on his features as he looked at you. Your tank top was stuck to your skin, your workout shorts soaked even. What he was most concerned about, however, was the blood seeping through the white hand wraps around your knuckles.

You hadn’t even noticed.

It had been six months since the world had returned to normal but you had felt so out of place still. You’d been one of the unlucky ones dusted into oblivion, cast into darkness and a void so dark you didn’t know light existed. You had seen nothing in your final moments except for the sky, laying on the ground and staring into the bright Wakandan world. It had disappeared, just like you had, and the world had moved on.

When you came back, when you all came back, it had been to a fight to the death. You’d lost a best friend and almost lost a father. You’d watched Pepper hover over Tony, Peter begging in his own way for the man not to leave. FRIDAY had read his vitals as critical and you had thought that maybe this was what true fear felt like. What had Thanos done?

Now all you could think about was the darkness. The void. The endless fear that came with your final moments and how it wouldn’t go away.

Bucky knew what was happening as he walked over and placed hands on your shoulders, “You need to stop with this. Hitting that thing ‘till you bleed won’t make it go away. We went through something and now we have to live with it.”

Tough love, right? He wasn’t wrong, though. Bucky had vanished just like you had. He had collapsed to the ground close to where you had been, and he had felt his form dissipate into nothingness. All of you were trying to make sense of not just a world that had carried on five years without you, but a world where you lived again. It had been moments between the snap and the return, but those moments had been agony. No pain, you’d reassured everyone, but the pain had been mental anguish.

Bucky knew.

He also knew you were avoiding the one man you wanted most to hold you and fix this. He had seen the way you looked at Steve and he had known it was more than just a crush. He had seen you get quiet and bashful, and this from a woman- sorry, a warrior, who shied from nothing. You drank with Valkyrie, had trained with Natasha (fuck…) and you had Wanda teach you to control your abilities, the electricity that rain through your veins and made you an asset.

Moments before you’d fallen and as you lay on the ground, crushed over the snap that echoed before you even knew you were taken, you’d seen Steve. He’d been the last face in your vision and as you lay on the ground, sun bathing you in a beautifully tragic way, you’d thought only one thing: Tell him you love him.

Even death (if that’s what the snap even was) hadn’t pushed you into Steve’s arms. He was powerful and he was good. He was better than you could be, you had thought, and deserved better. Didn’t he? Who were you? Some test subject that Hydra had let get away before they could twist your mind. You’d voluntarily gone in to change but had escaped once you realized what that place was. You’d practically run to the Avengers begging and pleading and Tony had taken you in.

Letting you go, Bucky stepped back and sighed, taking your hands and eyeing the damage, “Let’s get you cleaned up, OK? Tony and Steve are out taking care of some business in Wakanda for the week, just left. We need you in shape in case anything happens.”

You stayed quiet as he let you go and you followed him through the suddenly quiet gym that moments ago had echoed with your panting and yelling, that had echoed with your pain. Tell him. Tell him you love him.

________________________________________________

Leave it to Bucky to clean you up. He had envied you for getting away from Hydra, as had Wanda and Pietro, but it had let him trust you. You understood firsthand what they truly were and you were an example of what they were capable of. So was he. So were Wanda and Pietro, frankly.

Once the water had washed away the blood Bucky had seen that the damage wasn’t bad and that it needed to air out more than anything. You’d thanked him for taking care of you and assured him he didn’t need to, “It’s fine, Buck. I’m fine. Just training too hard is all. Got caught up in the moment, you know?”

He frowned and turned, beginning to walk away, leaving the living room where you two had been, but pausing before turning his head, “She’d be proud of you.”

You held back tears, knowing he was referring to Natasha, only watching as he walked out of the room for which you were grateful. You’d only lose it more if he’d stayed. He missed her, too. Clint arguably missed her the most which was why he’d distanced himself so much from the Avengers. He was spending more time with Laura, which was good, and his family was whole. Except for her.

You walked to the wet bar Tony had of course set up and poured yourself a whiskey, neat. Your plan wasn’t to get trashed, which was good, but you did need something to take the edge off. Tony had seen your pain and begged for you to get help.

“C’mon, Y/N, this isn’t what sane people do. You… you were dust. You’re back. No one would blame you for needing to talk to someone.” He had sat across from you on the couch at the Avengers base in upstate New York, rather than the tower in the city.

You huffed, “We don’t live in a sane world, Tony. I can make electricity with my hands. You’ve got a suit of armor that can trash a tank without thinking. We work with two demi-gods from a place called Asgard. Sanity went out the window a long time ago.” You’d eyed him carefully.

So why was this so hard?

A part of you was so angry at yourself for not telling Steve you loved him before the snap. Another part was angrier still that you continued to keep quiet about it. Your final wish had been that you had wished you’d told Steve you’d loved him. You’d imagined being held in his strong arms or being twirled on the dance floor, a beaming smile on your face and the world disappearing around you. You were getting that second chance now and still you hadn’t told him? Trauma, you’d told yourself. It was trauma.

“Didn’t realize you were one for drinking alone,” spoke the voice behind you. Turning you saw a grinning Steve, standing tall with his arms crossed, powder blue button-down shirt on and nice khakis. He paused for a moment before strolling towards you, taking a seat on the couch perpendicular to the one you were on.

You raised a brow, “I thought you were in Wakanda with Tony. Bucky said you were doing some work out there.”

Steve leaned back and sighed, “Strange decided to go instead. Makes more sense, really. Strange hasn’t been out there, yet, and I’ve earned a vacation.” He smirked.

A blush crossed your cheeks for whatever reason and you nodded, “Glad to have you here, then. You know, in case we need America’s Ass again.” You smirked this time.

Steve laughed, a true and heavy laugh, glad you had remembered one of the stories he had told once you guys had all been back together. Tony had thought it might be good to talk about what happened getting the stones given all you guys had been through. Banner explained how weird it was being out of his own body and you had wondered what it must have been like to see a huge, hulking man shown what-was-up by a smaller woman using only her bare hands. It sounded like they all had quite the trip.

Taking a sip of the whiskey you relished in its gentle burn. You supposed that if it had been five years then you’d earned at least more than a drink. But it was a struggle to remain cool in the lone presence of the man you pined for.

He narrowed his eyes a bit, suddenly leaning forward, “Hey, what happened to your hands?” He reached out, taking the hand not holding the whiskey, eyeing the skin that had been etched away leaving your knuckles raw.

What’s happening?

You snatched your hand back, inadvertently knocking the whiskey out of your hand and onto the floor, those words that had passed through your mind in your final moments passing through once more.

Please… not with Steve…

The liquid hit the hard floor and the glass shattered into a million little pieces. You felt the same. Stumbling to your feet and glad you had on shoes you felt yourself shaking, “I’m-I’m sorry. I have to go. I’m sorry.” You mumbled, repeating your words as you stumbled out of the room and towards the one you had called your own.

Somewhere in your mind you could hear Steve calling out your name and you had wished for a moment you were able to tell him to make it better. You had wanted to run into his arms instead of leaving him with shattered glass and a concerned look.

Entering your room, you about fell apart. You made it to your bed before the tears fell hot down your cheeks. That same pain you tried so hard to push away was flooding your vision. You saw that Wakandan sky again, felt the dirt beneath you, heard a voice that was so far away, “Bucky? Y/N?”

It was beyond unexpected, then, to feel a pair of strong arms suddenly wrapped around you, head against your own as you heard him whisper, “Hey, hey… it’s ok. You’re safe, Y/N. I promise you, you’re safe, ok?” The words were gentle and healing, little pieces that were working to clean up the glass that had just shattered into a million tiny pieces.

Opening your eyes you saw that it was Steve holding to you and without even thinking you threw your arms around him as well. It just felt so good. It felt like a relief, like letting out a breath you’d been holding in as he held you to his warm chest. His smell, a soft cologne, wafted up and you felt comforted more.

But there you sat, unsure for how long, as he let you sob. You were certain tears were staining that nice shirt of his and you knew how he was turned it must not have been comfortable. But he held you. He held you close and he didn’t flinch as you sobbed. It was compassion from a man who had been through so much himself and still he was letting you unravel, keeping you centered as best he could while you finally let go of what you’d been holding onto.

So why can’t I say it?

When he finally did pull away you had calmed considerably, soft whimpers escaping over loud sobs, looking at him as he smiled warmly and brushed your cheek gently, “It doesn’t feel like it now, but I promise you it’ll be ok. And I promise, more than anything, I’ll keep you safe.”

You nodded, wiping at your tears a bit as you looked away, “Thanks, Steve… sorry for falling apart there. I think I’m feeling better now, though,” you forced a smile and he leaned in, placing a chaste kiss upon your forehead.

Tell him!

He stood slowly, “I’ll be a few doors down if you need me, OK? Wanda said she’ll make us some food tonight. Vision is helping, though, so not sure how it’ll be,” he smirked. You couldn’t help but chuckle, only nodding as you watched him leave.

If only you’d known. If only you’d heard his own voice screaming at him, his internal dialogue that never ceased once more at attention as he shut your door and moved smoothly down the hallway.

You were the last one he saw. He watched as your form, the one he had memorized so perfectly, began to disappear. Without a word he watched as you slowly vanished into the air. He watched as your perfect eyes, your perfect hair, your perfect everything slipped from his fingers. Another missed chance. Another dance he would never get.

Tell her you love her.

( @skymoonandstardust @spookydefendordreamer @luckynumber1213 and lemme know if you wanna be tagged or untagged w/e)

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elysiumwaits · 5 years

Photo

It’s Work in Progress Wednesday! Here are some teasers from a bunch of my WIPs. Mostly Sterek with a bit of MCU at the end.

Under the cut cause this got loooong.

1. In the Winter’s Pale - Sterek - “First Encounters” prompt AU that might actually be reworked, I don’t know yet if I like how this is going.

Chain broken, Stiles gasps and his body tries to arch as his magic is suddenly there once more, filling the cracks and voids that had been so awfully empty when he had reached for them for protection at the beginning of this whole ordeal. It sings and cries to him like a living creature, agonizes over his pain and attempts to start healing his wounds.

He reigns it back, and it is no small task.

“Move,” he manages, still rasping but firm. The red-haired woman does, standing and moving back quickly, too graceful to scramble but fast nonetheless. The black wolf, however, does not.

2. Weekly Werewolf Sitcom Summer Fun WIP - Sterek, Scott/Isaac/Allison

Honestly, Stiles often thinks, the hardest part of getting Peter to involve himself with pack is overcoming the smug, condescending barriers he puts up in the first place. “You mind to share with the class?”

“Certainly, Stiles.” At this, Peter does raise his sunglasses to the top of his head. “Scott is with Allison, as everyone knows. But Scott is obviously also… dallying with Isaac. And though I haven’t personally observed it, I would lay good money down that Isaac is also dallying with Allison.”

“That’s… a hell of a love triangle,” Derek says, looking a little pinched. He’s probably thinking, Stiles guesses, about the fallout, which would be necessary if it were actually a love triangle.

“Nope, it’s good ol’ fashioned polyamory.” Stiles squints at where Scott’s hand is resting on Isaac’s shoulder, watches as Scott pulls it away a few seconds later - lingering, hesitantly, sliding his fingertips along Isaac’s shoulder blade like he is wholly reluctant to pull away.

“A triad,” Peter says. “I really can’t believe you didn’t notice.”

3. Sterek Fantasy Epic - Sterek - if I keep posting about it maybe I’ll work on it

Derek has a lot of questions, actually, but this first one is the most important. “Were you ever human?”

Stiles is quiet and still, as though someone carved him from a stone. The fire crackles, but it doesn’t rise, and Derek doesn’t reach for his blade. Slowly, the sounds of the forest at night seem to fade away to an eerie stillness that lasts for a few moments, half a second, and then snap back to life as Stiles looks away from the flames and to Derek once more.

“I think that depends on your definition of human,” is what Stiles finally says, easy as ever. His hands, though, give him away, betray the calm that he’s trying to project and instead tell Derek that the mage is tense. His eyes are wide, as always, but he’s shifted away from Derek, meeting his gaze unwaveringly. Watching for sudden movement.

He’s afraid.

4. You Know You Got Me to Hold On To - Winterhawk - The Tractor Bang fic

“You drool,” Bucky says. “And you have a bruise on your cheek and a bandage on your nose. Again. Not counting, you know, the rest of your injuries. That overshadows your rugged masculine charm.”

“Au contraire, it’s an integral part of my rugged masculine charm.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, uncrosses his arms, and finally actually comes into the bedroom. Clint grins, invitingly patting the empty space beside him, but Bucky shakes his head. “I made breakfast.”

“Town is twenty minutes away and there are literally no groceries here, what exactly is ‘breakfast?’”

“Fine,” Bucky says, a little bit of a quirk to his mouth that might be the start of a smile. “I made coffee. There’s an MRE or two if you’re hungry.”

5. Working Title: Wild and Unruly - Taserhawk - That big small town romance novel one with way too many country music references

“I literally don’t know any other way to tell you that I can’t make you a Cosmo,” Darcy snapped. “A Cosmopolitan needs triple sec, which I don’t have, and I can’t pull out of my ass. So, you can order something I’ve offered to make you, or you can move along because I have a bar full of other customers who I like a hell of a lot better than I like you.”

“Ugh,” the girl sighed dramatically. “Just a fucking screwdriver then, god. A strong one.”

Darcy threw the drink together with slightly less vodka and slightly more orange juice than she usually did, dropped an orange slice into it, and set it down in front of the girl with probably a little more aggression than necessary. “You want to start a tab?”

The girl didn’t say anything, apparently deeming Darcy unworthy of her time. Instead, she just handed over a ten dollar bill, so Darcy opened the register and handed her back a five.

“Oh my god, this stupid drink costs five dollars?” the girl asked in indignant disbelief, clearly gearing up for another hissy fit.

Darcy snorted. “No. The screwdriver is two dollars, but there’s an upcharge for annoying customers to be applied at my discretion. Sure you don’t wanna start a tab?” Then, just to make a point, she dropped the extra three dollars into her own tip jar.

6. Our Feet Are Planted in the Real World - Taserhawk - post-Endgame fic where Darcy can see ghosts

Darcy still tries to finish up any business they have left though. She calls a lot of police departments with “anonymous tips” and writes a lot of “mysterious letters” to family members left behind. It doesn’t help them move on, really - that doesn’t happen until they’re well and truly ready - but it makes both her and the ghost feel a little better. She likes to think it helps the families too, but she very rarely gets any kind of contact after the letter. Sometimes she reads about bodies found and cold cases solved in newspapers for towns far away from her, and that gives her a strange, bittersweet sort of closure.

“So how is the most beautiful woman in the world today?”

And then there’s Pietro.

Out of context, he’s very flattering and good for Darcy’s ego. Coupled with the smarmy grin and the eyebrows, though, it loses a little bit of the “nice compliment” kind of flavor and edges right up into “fuckboy” instead.

To be honest, though, even he’s not that creepy anymore - he’s been hanging around Darcy for going on eight years now, after all. Frankly, his return to over-the-top compliments and blatant innuendo are a welcome change from the majority of the five years after the Snap, when he was… well, a ghost of his former self.

7. Dust to Dust - Taserhawk, past Clint/Laura - the complicated one about grief and mourning that happens during the five years between the Snap and Endgame - angst angst angst

Later, when he’s standing alone in a sunny field with the remnants of a picnic and dust slipping through his fingers, with laughter from only moments earlier ringing in his ears, he will think of all the promises he made that he didn’t keep and all the ones that he did. How he’s still alive, and how he never thought he would be the last one to go.

The road to hell isn’t paved with good intentions, like everyone thinks. Clint’s walked the road to hell before, pulled people back from it, and he knows that it’s built of blood and dust and tears, of promises that couldn’t be kept. It’s knees in the Missouri dirt, fingers frantically clutching at dust and grass before the wind can catch it, desperate prayers to a god that he never really believed in going unanswered.

The road to hell is a quiet, empty farmhouse. It’s Disney tickets, a squeaky stair, milk going bad. It’s rotting picnic food left on a table as the summer turns on, a target standing in a field with arrows just slightly off of a bullseye like a monument, like a grave marker, like a cross left at the roadside after a terrible accident.

Promises and intentions, everything that keeps Clint choosing the path of the good man again and again, blows away across the field, dust carried through his fingers by the breeze.

#work in progress wednesday #wip wednesday #sterek #winterhawk #taserhawk #darcyland

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justanotherwannabeclassic · 5 years

Text

Running from Grenades

Steve and Peggy reunited in the past. He wants to stay. She can't let him.

Rating: T (swearing) Warnings: Endgame Spoilers! Canon divergence! Author’s Notes: Can y’all believe I got so mad at Cap’s ending in Endgame that I wrote a fix-it fic, thus marking my debut into writing MCU fic? While on the surface level, it is nice that he found a "happy ending", it's something that sort of falls apart for me under scrutiny. This is my response to that ending -- a canon divergence of sorts. This is also a bit of a Steggy fic, insomuch that they kiss and love one another. But I believe in warnings, and my fair warning is that they do not get their Endgame ending. (Also, because this is my first time writing MCU fic, I apologize if I get any of the tag conventions wrong. Please let me know, and I’ll edit ASAP.)

Read on AO3. xxxxxxx The first thing Peggy does when she see Steve Rogers standing before her is shoot.

He dodges it, the first sign that perhaps the man standing before might actually be the person he claims to be, but the War has taught her to be apprehensive, to question. Anger, fear, and hope churn in her belly and possibilities race through her mind. A clone? HYDRA? Steve has died, disappeared into the ocean. It had been years.

“There was a time when I thought you were sleeping with Howard, remember? The fondue thing? I was jealous, because I wanted to be with you. I was stupid and..”

He’s rambling, this man with Steve’s face and voice. He rambling about memories, shared memories and emotions, and it’s that which causes Peggy to believe that maybe this man is Steve.

“I owe you a dance. And I’m here to ask you for that.”

Perhaps it’s because she misses him so much that she lowers the gun. Perhaps it’s the earnestness in his voice and the raw emotion in his eyes that convinces her that he’s telling the truth. What Peggy does know is that when she drops her weapon and breathes his name, it takes no time at all for him to sweep across the room and pull her into a kiss.

It tastes like coming home.

-/-

In his arms as they sway to music only they can hear, Peggy allows herself to ask how, when, and why now? She’s allowed herself a few moments to bask, to cry, to revel in the warmth of Steve’s arms and a moment she believed that she would never have the chance to experience.

His voice has a touch of humor when he replies. “That’s a bit of a long story, more of a sit down type of conversation.”

“Oh.” She’s not sure if she’s ready to disentangle herself from him. As she presses her head against his chest, she hears the pounding of his heart. It had sped up when she’d questioned him, and that is what tells her she should pry, as much as neither of them want to at the moment. “I have chairs, and pretty comfortable sofa.”

He stills, his heart picking up an even faster pace than she thought possible. “Do you have anything strong to drink? You’re going to need it.”

“Oh ye of little faith. I’m a tough woman, Rogers.”

He laughs, and rumble vibrates in his chest. “As if I could ever forget.”

-/-

She thinks she should have taken him up for a drink.

Steve weaves a tale that seems lifted right from Wells’ novels, time travel and alien invasions and gods from other worlds. His story sounds wild and amazing, but also incredibly lonely. He speaks of a decade of pain and trauma, and even though she can’t see it, she knows he still carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. Peggy reaches out to take his hand, and he squeezes it.

She tries and fails not to ask questions, to just let him speak, but her inquisitiveness wins out.

“Howard’s son? Truly?” The thought of Howard as a father is enough to send her mind reeling, let alone him marrying. The idea that his son will dress up in a suit of metal is somehow more palatable. What does that say about her.

“He was a right son of a bitch, but Howard would be proud.” Peggy doesn’t miss how Steve refers to Howard’s son in the past tense, whereas moments earlier he had described a man named Sam in the present. She also doesn’t miss Steve’s glassy-eyed stare. “We never got along. Not really. Different ideologies, and I think — well, I know — he always resented me.”

“But he was still your friend.” She’s reminded, vaguely, of the aftermath of losing Bucky. But we didn’t lose him, did we, she thinks. Not if what Steve says is true.

He nods. “And I didn’t get to say goodbye. Story of my life, right?”

Her heart constricts. She tries to imagine how he might feel, a person out of time. How isolating it must have been. She takes comfort in the fact that he found his people amid all of the chaos — a Norse god, spies, scientists, soldiers, and even old friends. It might not be the type of family they taught about in Sunday school, but deep down, she’s happy he found them. She can stomach the pain in his tale by know he has had people he loved surrounding him.

“The only good thing about this mess is that I get to see you again.” Steve gives her a glassy-eyed, but hopeful expression. “I’ve missed you.”

She’s noticed that he’s said nothing about her in that future of his, and doesn’t ask. She knows she isn’t in it. It makes sense, of course. She shouldn’t be a factor, likely long dead before 2023 even ignoring a monster’s...snap? But no one likes to dwell on their demise, inevitable as it may be.

So instead of inquiring further about her life, she instead tells him the truth. “I’ve missed you too.”

He seems to read her thoughts. He’s gotten so much more perceptive over the years, it seems, because he comments, “I’m surprised you haven’t asked about you.”

“I’m not sure I want to. Wouldn’t that change things? I find out I die at 40, and I spend my final days scared of that shadow. No thank you.”

“The Peggy Carter I know has never cowered in the face of death.” There’s something in the way his says it clues her in to more than he intends. He knows how she dies, of course he does. If their roles had been reversed, she knows without a doubt she would have searched for his fate. “Besides, I’m not even sure that’s how it works. Bruce — uh, the green guy I told you about — said it was more of an alternate reality thing. It...really doesn’t make sense. He’s one of the smartest guys I know, and I don’t think he could explain it.”

“So when you pop back to your time, it’s like nothing would have changed,” she reasons aloud, trying to wrap her mind around the concepts. Perhaps she should have spent more of her time reading science fiction rather than histories and biographies. Those hadn’t prepared her for this moment. Then again, Peggy doubts anything could have.

Steve drops his gaze, takes a deep breath, then looks back at her, apprehensive. “About that. What do you think about me staying?”

-/-

Once upon a time, in the aftermath of the war and losing Steve, Peggy had imagined this very moment. Steve coming back with an absurd story of how he survived, and the two of them finally having that dance.

The reality of it is far different.

As she sits on the sofa, his question about staying lingering in the air, she takes in the man before her: broken, sad, and afraid. He’s a man to whom the years have been cruel, far crueler than they’ve had any right to be. No wonder he wants to come back, to come home, to use some mix of magic and science.

It’s that thought that prompts her next line of inquiry. “Steve, what happens to me when you come from?”

He blinks, surprised. He hadn’t expected this response, and to be honest, she surprises herself with it. “I thought you said you didn’t want to know.”

“I changed my mind.” She squeezes his hand. It’s cheating. “Please.”

He licks his lips. Glances down. “You lived a long, happy life. You die an old woman with no regrets.”

It’s not the full story. This much she knows. “How do you know?”

“You told me.” So this isn’t the first time he sees her again. Him going down with the Valkyrie wasn’t the last she saw him until now. There’s something comforting about that, if there’s anything comforting to be found in a discussion about one’s death and the future. “You go on to inspire so many people. Your niece,” he winces, and she wonders why, “she joins S.H.I.E.L.D. because of you. You buy her first thigh holster.”

“I’m glad I don’t lose my sense of fashion in my old age,” she replies with all the humor she doesn’t feel.

Steve laughs, but it’s a hollow thing. “My niece follows in my footsteps, but I hear no mention of kids. So I take it that I stay a spinster and remain married to my job?”

Not that it matters, ultimately. A partner to share her life with would be nice, but there’s more to life than a man or children. She can succeed just as well on her own. And if she’s able to do it and inspire others to do good? Well, that can be enough for her.

A shadow crosses Steve’s face. It’s one she knows all too well. It’s one she’s worn herself. Sadness. Jealousy. Loss. “I don’t think you wanted them to. Your kids, I mean. They were proud of you, though. Your husband passed before I was able to meet him, but by all accounts he was a good man.”

“Well, of course, do you expect me to be someone who settles?” Because if she’s going to be a woman who marries, which in one world, she apparently is, then she’s going to go for someone extraordinary.

She had once allowed herself to think that man could be Steve, and judging by the way he kissed her, she’s pretty sure he once (currently?) thought the same way. Their conversation has taken a strange turn, one she knows Steve didn’t intend and one she doesn’t want. There’s a sense of wrongness when discussing her love life -- one that doesn’t exist yet -- with Steve. How strange it is to have a future laid out for her like this, presented by someone so dear to her past.

She has a headache.

She really should have gotten herself a drink.

“You don’t look happy,” Steve comments. There’s a hint of hope there, but his overall tone is concerned. “I shouldn’t have told you. I’m sorry.”

“I asked.”

“I dangled the future in front of you. I’m not playing fair.”

“Oh, Steve, when has life ever been fair?” There had been nothing fair about the Depression. There had been nothing fair about the War. There had been nothing fair about Steve crashing into the water. The list goes on and on, so long that Peggy sometimes doubts there’s any such thing as fairness in the world. Even this moment, Steve sitting beside her, is so painfully unfair that it it hurts.

“It’s not,” he agrees, years of pain and grief and sadness written across his face, “but, maybe we can make it just a little bit more fair.”

He squeezes her hand. He’s talking about staying again. With her.

She could say yes, agree. It would be so damn easy. It’s what she wants. She doesn’t care, at the moment, and hour faceless husband and their unknown children. What she cares about is the living and breathing man next to her.

And that’s why she has to break his heart.

“You know you can’t stay.”

“I can. I already told you that it won’t change anything when — where — I came from,” he argues, desperate. He takes both of her hands into his own. She’d forgotten how much larger his hands were than hers. “The family I told you about, they would be okay. Is that what you’re worried about?”

“Yes and no. I’m not worried about them. They don’t matter, not really. To be honest, I can barely even comprehend their existence. They’re like a dream, a very nice one, but not my reality.” Peggy allows Steve to hold her hands. She thinks it’s what keeping them both together. She takes a deep breath. “But to you, they’re real. And the Steve Rogers I know wouldn’t try to that take away from someone who told him she was happy.”

He doesn’t say anything. He looks down, refusing to meet her eyes.

“I spent so many nights wishing you would walk back into my life, Steve. You have no idea—“

“Actually, I do.”

“Sorry, you do.” He wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t, would he? “What I’m trying to say is that I wished so badly for you to be here. Just not like this.”

“What does that even mean?”

“I wanted you here because you somehow survived the crash — “

“I did survive the crash.”

“ — not here because you’re scared and grieving,” she finishes gently.

She’d listened to his story, listened as his voice cracked when speaking of a woman named Natasha and saw the pain etched on his face when he mentioned Howard’s son. She had seen him shake when he recounted everyone disappearing, a horror that she can’t bear to imagine.

Steve had sounded traumatized.

Steve looks traumatized, hunched over and red-eyed.

She’s seen the same trauma in the eyes of the men coming back from the War, in way civilians who lived through bombs raining down from the skies carry themselves down the street. It’s something she felt herself. But Peggy also knows there’s a right way of handling the trauma, and then there’s this: running the past, to comfort, and ensconcing oneself away from truly dealing with the loss.

She understands why Steve came back. She doesn’t blame him either. Most men with the literal ability to turn back and clock and start over would — but Steve Rogers is not most men. Even before his was physically changed by the serum, he hadn’t been like most men. Most men don’t jump in front of a grenade. Staying here, in the past, would be akin to running away from it.

Peggy slides her hands from Steve, and moves to cup his face. She’s afraid that he’ll pull away. He doesn’t. “You’re a good man, Steve, a good man that has been dealt a bad hand. You deserve happiness, but this isn’t it. You wouldn’t be happy in the end. You’d regret leaving behind everyone you care about.”

“I’d regret leaving you. Still do.”

“Yes, but the difference between me and them is that you know I’m going to be okay,” she reminds him. “Can you say the same thing about them? And would you be okay with not knowing?”

He’s quiet for a moment before he responds. “No.”

He moves away from her, sighing and sinking deeper into the sofa. Peggy hopes that she is doing the right thing. What if she isn’t? “It’s okay to be afraid, Steve. It’s okay to hurt. We all do.”

“Even you?” He quirks a brow. He’s kidding with his question, mostly, but it makes Peggy wonders if he’s realized the pedestal he’s placed her on.

“Even me.”

“The reason I came back here, the reason I wanted to stay is because Tony would always say that I should get a life. And he gave up his for all of us. He has a kid, you know? And Nat, she..she…” He voice trails off. Now, he doesn’t try to hide his tears. Nor should he. Peggy’s has enough of the ‘real men don’t cry’ mentality. Bottling the emotions makes everything worse, in the end.

“They both sound like heroes.” Peggy tells him. She wishes she could have the chance to meet Howard’s son and the woman known as Nat. “But with all due respect to Tony, he’s wrong about one thing: you already have a life. It’s not the life he wants, but yours is just as real as his. You have friends. You have work that you love. That sounds like plenty enough of a life for me.”

“I don’t know if I love being Captain America,” he concedes. “Not anymore. I like what the shield represents, but I’m not sure I can do it anymore.”

“Then stop being Captain America. You’ve completed your tour of duty. It’s okay to retire into civilian life.” Plenty of other soldiers have. Why shouldn’t Steve? “It doesn’t mean you have to stop doing good or helping people. You just won’t do it while wearing an American flag. Let someone else take the mantle. Focus on just being Steve.”

“I don’t even know what means anymore.”

“Then make it a priority to find out,” she insists. “This is something you have to find out for yourself, but for what it’s worth, the Steve Rogers I know never needed the shield or the serum to be a good man.”

He huffs out a small, self-deprecating laugh. “You always saw the best of me.”

“Believe me when I say that’s not hard to do.”

His expression turns serious. “I love you, Peggy. I’m not expecting you to say it back, but if we’re talking about regrets, I had to tell you.”

She should tell him she feels the safe. It’s what she wants to do. She doesn’t. “I know.”

“How very Han Solo of you,” he replies. There’s a sparkle of mirth in his eyes at a joke she doesn’t quite follow.

“I don’t understand.”

“Welcome to my life,” he teases. His expression then turns serious. “I know I have to go back, but before I do, can I ask you one more thing.”

Anything. “Of course.”

“Can I have one last dance?”

This time, it’s Peggy’s turn to feel the sting of tears in her eyes. “I would despair if you didn’t.”

-/-

They dance for what seems like hours, and maybe hours do pass. However long they sway together, it’s not nearly long enough.

And then he’s gone. Only then does Peggy allow herself to truly break down. She wonders if she will forever regret letting him go, if she made a massive mistake.

It’s only after she’s cried all the tears she thinks she can cry that she notices the slip of paper with writing in Steve’s familiar scrawl.

Coordinates.

Find Me. -Steve

#mcu ff #steggy #endgame fix it #endgame fic #endgame spoilers #s writes fic

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kazsbrecker · 5 years

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heyyy!! i've been dying to find some new fanfiction and i found your arrow fic and i ammmmm in love with it and the characters but i was wondering if you could talk a little about Carter and Mari and there love interest???

Thank you so much! I’m really glad you’ve enjoyed the story and characters and have asked this question. I’m so sorry for the late response, but I took a while to really consider how to answer because I could legit write a dissertation on these relationships. So more on that on the read below because it’s soooo long

Mari and Carter both have multiple love interests in the series. Coincidently, they both have an initial love interest who would have been perfect for them, but only in another life. It’s the ideal romance that doesn’t work out because the reality is there are some separations that can’t be bridged and what Mari and Carter both realize later is that they need someone who truly understands them and their struggles.

Kate Li is the first major love interest Mari will have. Kate is initially a secondary oc, a psychologist who is introduced as Thea’s therapist, but she is hired by the SCPD to profile the vigilantes. Season two and beyond, Kate becomes a more central figure, especially as her and Mari begin dating. Kate sees Mari’s potential to be a hero and wants to bring that out in her. Mari genuinely cares for Kate, deeply. In the past Mari has been scorned and Kate is the one who proves to Mari that she is capable of romantic love. However, Mari ultimately recognizes that she can never be what Kate wants her to be. They both come to terms with the fact that Mari can’t love Kate the way Kate deserves to be loved. They break up amicably at the end of season two and remain friends throughout the series.

Oliver is Carter’s first love interest during season one. The central theme to their relationship is very Gatsby inspired: the green light, the ideal woman. Oliver grows to love an idealized version of Carter. While on Lian Yu, when thinking of Laurel and Sara caused too much pain and guilt, Oliver latched onto a picture of Carter. He equates her with hope and home. When he reunites with Carter, she is as perfect as he remembered. On Carter’s end of the relationship, Oliver was her first crush and held so much significance while she was growing up, in all of her memories a constant in her life was Tommy and Oliver. Carter, who knew him so well, sees the changes and understands he must have gone through so much trauma after his return. She does what she does best, she is there for him. But ultimately, he is, too in love with the picture of her. He continues to keep secrets, refuses to speak about the Island with her (even though Mari has already opened up and told Carter so much). Secrets and the Undertaking drive them apart.

Oliver is Mari’s endgame, but it takes literally eight years for these two idiots to develop feelings and struggle to communicate said feelings to each other. Oliver is it for Mari, ultimately because of the shared terrible experience of Lian Yu. That kind of extreme trauma binds them together but also lends itself to the slowburn in their relationship. Even in season one, Mari and Oliver are partners, they survived hell together and see each other as the only other person who can fully understand what they have been through. Mari’s loyalty to Oliver is absolute even tho she does still think he is an idiot and he is still imitated by her, but that’s one of the reasons why he is attracted to her. Mari and Oliver have this unconditional acceptance for what they are and what they are doing, as a person, not necessarily life choices . There’s an understood honesty between them and they are able to fully understand the other’s identity and the potential of that. They become each other’s family and home.

Carter’s endgame is Slade Wilson, and it’s a hella hella slowburn because she meets him in the midst of his Mirakuru fueled revenge plot against Oliver. He intended to use her against Oliver, remembering how Oliver would stare at her picture on the island and believing her to be the woman Oliver loved most. However, things don’t work to plan. Their relationship is very heavily inspired by the dynamics of Beauty and the Beast, Hades and Persephone. But with a twist Even from the beginning, there’s a connection between them that they never will fully understand but it draws them together. There will not be a romanticization of Slade’s actions, he was the villain of season two and his crimes will be addressed, but what’s really so fascinating about Carter is that while she begins as the Beauty she becomes the Beast. Carter’s individual character arc will take her to some very dark places and she will do some awful things. Her sanity will decline as the Mirakuru fades and Slade comes back to himself. He (and Mari) will then, in turn, pull Carter out of her own darkness. In the aftermath, Carter and Slade will be in a similar place of guilt and regret because of what they’ve done, but they will manage to help each other to forgiveness and redemption. It’s complicated and complex but I love them so much.

#answered #anon #carter asks #mari asks #thanks again for this beautiful ask

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sxveme-2 · 3 years

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blueberry pancakes // bucky barnes

MASTERLIST

Status: Edited

Note: Takes place after endgame. I have elected to ignore Tony's death and Steve's leaving. Did not happen. Quick Reminder! My works are only published here, AO3 and on Wattpad, thank you.

Chapter Ten: The One with the Phone Call

Warnings: Mention of alcohol

Word Count: 2700

If we're being honest, Lily Osborne's past was no different than most. She was raised in an upper-middle-class family. Her parents were renowned scientists who were credible in their field and brought home their findings. Other than her parent’s overly obsessive need to have everything recycled, there wasn't much about Lily that was interesting or stuck out. Nothing that she really believed to be interesting at least. Two loving parents, who were still married. Two younger siblings whom she loved dearly. A steady career and a lovely child. She was living the overused and overly generalized, 'American Dream'. the only slight oddity of Lily's life was how young she was when she had Hunter and the fact she was only mid-thirties and already divorced. But other than that...she was a basic, domestic, woman.

That's not how Bucky saw it though.

He found her astonishing. Admirable, even. The fact she was able to complete a Ph.D. level of education, graduating as valedictorian, at the top of her class, was enough to make his heart reach out to grab onto hers. But what really intrigued him, was her ability to be descriptive but vague all at the same time. She spoke about her divorce, but never the contents. Never diving deeper than the surface of it. How she gained primary custody, and that it was due to an affair. He learned everything, and nothing, all at once. He was only able to make a general picture of who Lily Osborne was, nothing more than the basics.

"Osborne, you said?" Bucky commented, shifting in his seat as he sipped on a beer that he held in his naturally warmed hand, "I feel like I've heard of the name Osborne in the environmental field before..."

The comment he made cause Lily's eyebrow to perk up. From the sound of it, Bucky had just admitted to being a bit of a science nerd. The fact he recognized the Osborne name just from Lily mentioning her parents. It was endearing, really. The fact he let that little tidbit of information slip out, not even realizing he had. Lily had made note of it, ensuring she remembered in case they were lucky enough to have a conversation like this again. Learning about one another, becoming more educated on their pasts.

But just like the supersoldier, Lily had secrets. Maybe not as extreme, but nonetheless, they were secrets. She wouldn't give him the full story of anything. Just the slightly important details. It was like a burger, sort of. She gave him the bun, but not the meat in the middle. If she was open and honest with him, that would open up a case of vulnerability. And though a talented doctor, Lily would not be able to cure it. It'd be the crack in her armour he could use to bring her down if he so wished.

"Probably from their discoveries about eco-friendly teddy bears. They still give me nightmares." Lily chuckled, sipping the ale that Bucky had given her. Though she had elected not to drink, the small voice in Lily's head convinced her that one beer wouldn't be too harmful. She wouldn't lose her morals just from a beer. She'd never been like that.

"Yes yes, I've seen Starks kid wandering around with one. They're terrifying," he replied, steel eyes reflecting the glow of the moon that provided them with the romantic ambiance that swirled around them. The whole scenery around them was more romantic than most of the dates Gen had set Lily up on in the past. It was genuine and natural, nothing forced or rushed to make it happen. But the demons inside of Lily's heart were screaming at her to run, get out of there while she still could. However, her feet stayed planted, and her butt sat in the lawn chair. She wasn't going anywhere.

Lily was still mortified of any sort of relationship. This wasn't one of those cheesy situations where the moment she met Bucky, her fears disappeared. That all of those years of emotional manipulation and toxicity had just vanished from her psyche. Lily hadn't changed because she met Bucky. The scars on her heart were still there, and just like her, had no intention of leaving. Sure, she was attracted to him. He was a fine specimen, had a voice that was as smooth as butter that created goosebumps on her arms. His presence brought a warm blanket of comfort that he would drape around her shoulders. But the pain still sat heavily on her shoulders. All of the damage Scott had caused to her mental state and self-image. They still stood, strong and sturdy. Lily was still Lily. The same girl who had been in a troublesome relationship and managed to emerge the other end. And that's all there was to it.

Change can happen. It's just not an immediate thing.

"You've mentioned that you've been through a divorce. How long ago was that?" Bucky inquired, his phrasing eluding the fact he wanted to know more. He had a hankering for the knowledge of Lily's past. To know what she's been through. What made her the shy and meek girl in front of him. What about her history created such a fragile state of mind, yet such a strong and independent visionary. A single mother, a full-time doctor, yet riddled with anxiety.

Bucky's trained eye could see the signs. The tapping of her fingers, the shortness of her breath. The way her collarbone heaved up and down at a faster pace whenever she spoke, or even when he asked her a personal question. How she never seemed to make eye contact with him. God, he wanted her to. He wanted to see those beautiful green eyes match with his. Memorize every detail of her face. The curve of her nose. the arch of her brow. Bucky wanted to render it into his mind, so he would never forget it. So he could always have the picture of those forest green eyes in his mind. The stories they held. The pain they kept locked away. But she never would long enough for him to capture their beauty. If Lily ever caught his eyes, she'd avert them within a millisecond. He'd watch as she'd turn her head, staring out into the sky.

"Four years ago. Seven years of marriage later." Lily answered after a few moments of pause. Her cheeks heated up in a red hue at the mention of her marriage. All of the pain she went through welling up in her throat as she attempted to wash it away with the beer in her hand. The words he would use were stitched into her skin, the things he would call her. She was a ragdoll in the eyes of Scott Harvey. He would take her lifeless body and sew in the worst of the English language onto her skin. It wore her down, the emotional trauma she suffered. But Lily came out on the other end, broken down and beaten sure, but still alive.

"And Hunters your only one?" Bucky inquired, studying the way that Lily fidgeted under his glance. It wasn't as if she was nervous around him, no. From the first time he met her, she seemed to relax around his presence. It was something about everyone that made her nervous. She was a survivor of something, on top of seemingly just always being a shy person. Introverted and hidden away. Add the emotional drainage she suffered all of those years, it made her a shell almost. Bucky was trained to catch small signals, the details others wouldn't care to look at. And all of Lily's body was littered with the little things, the way she breathed, to the way her cheeks always held a red hue.

Lily Osborne had piqued the interest of James Barnes. Not just in a romantic way, though that was a major factor. No, she had different layers to her. Different parts that all connected to create the woman that sat across from him. The way her eyes were slightly sunk in from years of work. Yet her hands seemed soft and velvety smooth, the hands of a mother. The way her arms always sat across her lower stomach, crossed in a way that hid that small part of her body. All signs leading towards insecurities, anxieties, a constant need to have a wall up. Not only did Lily create an opposing side of Bucky, but he saw himself in her. The part of himself that was locked away in a cell in the back of his mind. Constantly doubting, reminding him of the pain he caused. But she wore it on her sleeve, as though it had managed to free itself and take over her persona.

"Yes, he's my one and only. Something inside of me knew I wouldn't want another with my ex-husband, so I made sure measures were taken so there wouldn't be a chance of another until I was ready," Lily answered, crossing her legs and readjusting the dress in an attempt to cover the bit of thigh that she had revealed, "He's the only male I need...my son's everything to me."

Whenever Hunter is ever brought up in conversation, Lily's heart grew four sizes. He was truly the rock in her life that kept her tethered to reality. If he was gone, well Lily wouldn't know what to do. Having a child so early in her life was never something that the blonde had anticipated, nor wanted. She had a whole life plan ahead of her. Get her degree, get her Ph.D., find a husband, then start thinking about a family. Instead, she got pregnant, got a husband, then got a Ph.D. and her degree. The complete opposite of what she had originally planned for herself. Lily was far from ready to be a mother at the age of 22, but she knew she could never, ever, give up her child. So, miraculously, she made it work. Through hours of crying and yelling trips to Gen's and her parents, she did it. And managed to raise a happy, healthy, baby boy.

"There you two are!" a familiar voice rang after Lily had finished her inner monologue about the love she had for her son. Rose. And in tow, were a few of the Avengers and a quite inebriated Genevieve Fairchild, hanging loosely onto a seemingly amused Steve Rogers. As the group paraded around the two, Lily's younger sister spoke, "You lovebirds have been up here for an hour. Gen thought you died."

Lily let out a Gentle sigh before standing from the couch that you'd typically find on a porch, but it was on a roof and went to alleviate the Captain of her intoxicated best friend. Whom, Lily could only guess tried to drink Thor or somebody under a table. Another thing about the doctor’s best friend, she never backed away from a challenge. Even when it came to going head to head against a literal God when it came to drinking. It really sometimes surprised Lily that Gen had survived this long. But, if we're honest, it's because Lily had been babysitting her for close to twenty years. That's about the only reason.

"I take it back. I have two kids. This is Genevieve, she owns the cafe you guys go to," Lily smiled, wrapping her arm around her best friend’s waist and leaning Gen into her side, to keep her up. The last thing that Lily wanted was to have her best friend pass out in front of a cute guy, as well as the literal Avengers. That would just be embarrassing. Not to mention, Gen would have passed out and that would require a hospital visit, somewhere Gen hated for some reason that even Lily didn't know, "We should get her home. Thank you for hav-"

"Gotcha," Gen grinned while shoving her fingers into Lily's side, causing the blonde to jump. Untangling herself, Gen dropped herself down onto the couch while throwing herself into a giggle fit at Lily's surprised face. The others around chuckled softly at the practical joke, before Gen piped up, "Told you she'd fall for it, Rose. Every party we've ever been to it happens. And every time, Lily goes all mom mode on my ass."

A conversation erupted after Gen's comment, and Lily just shook her head and joined the brunette on the couch that sat parallel to the chair Bucky occupied. Both Lily and he seemed to stay silent as the group around them laughed and created a merry atmosphere. Instead, they snuck shy and reciprocated glances at one another, both erupting in a fit of blushes anytime they made eye contact. Of course, this didn't go unnoticed, but instead of causing an uproar, the group just smiled at the two. They were like two school kids who had a crush on one another but were too shy to say anything. Stealing glances from across the classroom and having nervous conversations filled with short answers. It was endearing, yet aggravating.

Rose and Gen knew the damage that had been caused to Lily's perception of love. They were the two closest people to Lily, and were there for every step of the divorce, each tear, each time she screamed into a pillow, each time she shot one too many drinks in an effort to forget the pain that reverberated from her heart. The endless nights of Lily calling one of them in tears because Scott went out and had yet to come home. Or when he did, smelled of another woman. But Lily always, always, ignored the bright red sign that said he was no good for her. Rose and Gen were the two people in the world that knew Lily more than she knew herself. They saw the flowers that bloomed inside of her and the beauty that could rise from the ashes if she just allowed it. If Lily allowed herself happiness, they would witness the rebirth of her. See her smile for no reason again, dance around her house, and sing without the help of alcohol. God...her voice was angelic. But it had been ages since anyone had heard it.

Scott had stolen her voice. stole the one thing that really separated Lily from the pack. he kept it hidden as a token of the pain he had caused. a memento of the heart he had shattered with one hand while twisting a knife into Lily's back. he managed to keep it locked away for years, and Lily had grown weary and tired of fighting, and gave up. she stopped searching for the light inside of her he put out. she didn't believe it was possible for her candle of light to be lit once again. all because some son of a bitch decided to crush her life like she was nothing but a bug.

-----

The clock struck midnight, and Lily laid draped in Gen's arms on the same outdoor couch. Her best friend’s arm draped along her shoulder, a blanket that bruce had grabbed laying on top of them to keep the crisp September air at bay. Everyone was having a lovely time ignoring the party that raged down below them, that had slowly begun to dwindle down and grow quiet. Now, instead of booming music with deep bass, Lily's ears were filled with the laughter of her new friends that surrounded her as jokes and stories were exchanged. It was peaceful, and at that moment, Lily felt calm. Her palms were soft, with no sweat in sight. Her breathing was steady, and her mind stayed on one thought. There was no spiralling, no intense paranoia. just...peace.

Then her phone rang.

Hunter's contact popped up, and that calm heart rate skyrocketed in an instant. Not only was it an odd time to get a call from her son, but he was at Scott’s. if there was an issue, Hunter would go to Scott. This in itself sent that peaceful feeling that Lily had flying out the window. Throwing off the blanket, she slid her phone across the screen and stood, pushing herself up from the couch. Excusing herself off to the side, Lily's hands grew warm and clammy.

"Hunt? Baby, what's wrong?"

"Mama please come pick me up.”

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lotornomiko · 6 years

Text

The Dark Flavor Of Addiction Chapter Twenty One

3B cannon divergence with a heavy focus on a secret sexual relationship between Hook and Belle. Both devoted and swearing to love others, Hook and Belle both can’t deny the irresistible passion and attraction they have for one another, leading to repeated secret trysts, hurt feelings, and a whole lot of jealousy. But what happens when feelings unravel completely,& secrets come out?

Captain Beauty Endgame…so not safe for work….

I actually have to bite down on my tongue, gnash my teeth together in an effort to hold back the frustrated words that want to come out. I don't trust what I'll say, what I'll do, the anger and desperation inside me so different from the elation I had been feeling just a handful of minutes earlier. Back when she had started to kiss me back, when Belle had clutched at me and rubbed the front of her body against mine. Back then she hadn't been defiant, hadn't been thinking of the good of the town, or of sparing Rumplestiltskin the worst of his hurt feelings. She had been all about me, about US, Belle kissing me wildly, passionately, and she had been the one who hadn't wanted to stop.

I hadn't much wanted to either, truth be told. I would have gladly taken her right there, on the counter, or on the floor, but for once I had been trying to be noble. To be something other than the pirate who only used her for his own lustful gains. I had in fact been attempting to show Belle I wanted more than just her body. I wanted her. Her soul, her happiness, and though I hadn't dared voice it loud, I was wanting her heart as well. Unworthy of it though I am, I wanted Belle to love me, to need me, to look at me as though I was becoming everything to her. I was in fact chasing after the Belle of the lost year, the woman who she doesn't remember being, the lover I had so unwittingly tortured with my cruel insistence at pining away for a woman who hadn't wanted me. Who had never wanted me.

But now I knew and accepted that what I wanted was Belle. I wanted the woman she once was, and could be again. I wanted her to be better than that, I wanted her to be free of the sadness and the pain I had continually caused her. I wanted a Belle who wouldn't be driven to leave me, a woman I wouldn't keep on hurting but only because now I know better. I wanted another chance at our life together, at being happy for once. How ironic was it, that now that my eyes have been opened, Belle was intent on turning her back on me? Not that I'll let her. She'll have a fight on her hands, and I'll use just about any means fair or foul to win her. With that thought, I give her a tightlipped smile that's more grimace than anything. She reacts with a wary kind of hesitation, Belle so clearly unable to ascertain what I am on about now. That suits me just fine, what I am already intending to do a secret best kept to the dark.

My secret scheming in the back of my mind, I am wondering just how quickly my man William Smee can be found. There's others that will be needed, but Smee is the most essential, the man a magic about him that lets him find anything or anyone that is needed. With Smee onboard, it won't take long to get the rest of my crew together for one last misdeed in Storybrooke. That Belle won't like this one bit doesn't concern me. She has no real choice in the matter, not where her life is concerned. I'm going to save her, even if it's from her own foolish self.

My true thoughts can't possible be betrayed this easily, and yet Belle speaks as though she has an inkling of what I am thinking about. "I won't be another Mila."

There's more than one way to interpret that statement, anything from Belle saying she won't be mine, to implying she won't repeat the same mistakes that Rumplestiltskin's wife had once made with him. "I won't die." She clarifies. "Rumple won't hurt me."

The not yet healed cut over her eye speaks otherwise on that, my own brow arching in a silent and mocking manner. The aroused color had never truly faded from her skin, but now Belle's cheeks bloomed even darker with her blush. "That was while under Zelena's command of the dagger! He'd...he'd never..."

Was that the tiniest bit of uncertainty I heard in her voice? My smile became less like a grimace and more like a smirk. I leaned back against a counter, still not saying anything. We simply saw the man, the monster, from two different sides. I saw him at his worst, and Belle at his best, or what he had pretended at being. I knew the coward and the monster, and that insane jealousy that had led him to kill a woman that he had supposedly loved, a woman who had been the mother of his only child. What chance did Belle stand under circumstances that were so similar and yet not? She had betrayed his love, with the very same man that his wife had once turned to. Sooner or later Belle would have to realize how bad that would make her look in Rumplestiltskin's eyes. But I'd get her away before he could kill her, before he could come close to even considering it.

I didn't say any of this out loud. She wouldn't have wanted to hear it, and my words would have only led Belle to be that more determined to walk head first into danger. That stubborn determination of hers is both a blessing and a curse, something to be both admired and annoyed by. She'd be a different woman without it, and yet I didn't want to change a thing about her, other than her blind faith in Rumplestiltskin.

Wishing I could free her of that faith in him, my hands were thus tied in what I had to actually do. I didn't like it, but neither was I that against the idea. In time, of which there would be plenty, Belle would get over what I had done. She would HAVE To. She's too different from me, too incapable of holding a grudge for that long.

Spiriting Belle away to safety wasn't the only plan I had in the back of my mind. But it seemed the only one that would come close to bearing any chance of succeeding. I thought of the dagger, and of the witch's house, the darkness having sealed off the property. There'd be no going back there, no getting my hand on the dagger that way. I nearly sighed out loud with my disappointment, thinking it a pity, the lost opportunity of that dagger.

Belle for her part, doesn't seem to realize just where my thoughts have gone. She is too busy fidgeting in place, fighting her own feeble beginnings of uncertainty. I find it interesting that the more I don't say anything, the more defensive she becomes. Almost like she is filling in the blanks in her head with what Belle thinks I could have said. She might have even stood there just short of forever, trying to justify herself to the imagined words in her head, but then her stomach growled quite loudly. She blushed further in response, lifted her chin up stubbornly, even as I scowled at her.

"Will you sit down already and eat the breakfast that I made for you?!" It came out gruff, but I was exasperated with her. She had after all not eaten since early yesterday, and this kind of continued neglect of her physical well being would not do.

She moves when I take a step towards her, an odd mix of defiant but meek as Belle takes a seat at the table. I fetch the pan, flip the omelette out onto a plate, and set the meal down rather roughly in front of her. She actually startled in place at the loud clang of the plate hitting the table, Belle's mouth opening to say something, but then the woman thought better of it. Instead of speaking, she reached for a fork, and then began poking at the omelette. She had seen me prepare it, and yet Belle didn't seem to trust that it was edible. She was in for a culinary surprise, her eyes widening at the first small bite she reluctantly took.

"It's good!" She exclaimed, and her second bite was a much larger one. I took a seat across from her at the table, my amused smile without malice or any tension to it.

"Enjoy it." I say. "This is one of the rare few times where we HAVEN'T burnt breakfast."

She quickly looks down at her plate, Belle's blush becoming more pronounced in color. I get the feeling she is remembering what I had said earlier, how I had spoke of us burning breakfast, and the reason behind it. I grin wider at that, staring at her, and if I had been sitting closer to her, I would have reached out to her. Burning breakfast wasn't the only way to disrupt a meal, and more than once had I spread Belle out on the table, and taken her in place of the food. It's on the tip of my tongue to say, to spill in vivid details all the time I had laid her out on the table, and feasted to my heart's content. The image forms in my mind, Belle drugged out on the pleasure of my tongue, past the point of any protests, as I had my way with her.

Suddenly I am the one feeling heated, though my flustered state hasn't anything to do with the embarrassment Belle might be feeling. I curl my fingers on the table's top, and shift about in my seat as my pants grow a tad too tight. It doesn't help that I stare at her mouth, at lips that are still swollen from that mad display of angry passion earlier. I fight the growl that wants to come out, that grows worse at seeing her lick nervously over them.

"Stop it." She says it quietly. I don't try to play dumb or deny my reaction to her, but neither do I apologize. Instead I take a long drink of cold water from one of the glasses on the table, hoping the cool liquid will quench some of my internal fire. It's easy to say the words, to tell her I want more from her than just her body, but it's a lot harder to actually make good on proving that. Especially now, sitting at this table, eating a breakfast that I had made for her. It felt intimate, maybe even more so than all the times I had fucked her in Storybrooke, this bit of domesticity and the past night I had just spent with her, so much more like the life we had lost back in the Enchanted Forest.

"I've really made a mess of things." I say it out loud, but mutter it without intending for her to understand. She pauses, then glances up at me. She waits a beat and then Belle resumes eating once it becomes apparent I wasn't about to repeat what I had just muttered. It's not the cold drink that cools my lust, but my acknowledging how much I have fucked things up. I bite into my own omelette, the act of eating more a show of hiding from Belle my grimace as I work things out in my head. I keep thinking on how I have treated her, how I had used Belle once she and the others had awakened back in Storybrooke. I hadn't once approached her as though we had shared anything meaningful during the year that was lost. Instead I had bore down on her with all my anger and my hurt, running roughshod over her heart in retaliation for Belle having left me. I had both wanted to punish her and hadn't been able to stay away, taking advantage of the fact Belle didn't remember, didn't know anything of the past year. Not the time spent together, and certainly not of her leaving.

I had felt abandoned, rejected. I had also been feeling hurt and betrayed, and had seized on the opportunity the witch's curse had given me. Belle writhing beneath me once again, even as I had so callously chased after the fool's dream that was Emma Swan. I had used the savior, her cold hearted indifference, as an excuse, using Emma's rejection to seek out solace inside Belle's body time and time again. And yet it was never enough, not so long as Belle didn't remember, and couldn't be made sorry for what she had done. I had been in fact frustrated by both women, so twisted up inside, sure Emma was my happiness, but torn apart by the memories of that time spent with Belle in the Enchanted Forest. I was in fact trying to deny the happiness Belle and I could have had, that we SHOULD and WOULD have had if not for my obsession with a woman that was lost. A woman who had always been lost to me.

It's the ultimate in ironic, that I've let THAT woman help damage my true chance at happiness. I inwardly flinch as I bring to mind Belle's hurt and pain, the way she had screamed and revealed to me that I had said Emma's name in the heat of a passionate moment. I can't even truly explain it away, so twisted in knots had I been about both women, that my pain and frustration at being passed over by both, had let my subconscious strike out in the only way I knew that would be guaranteed to hurt Belle hardest. Angry with both women, I had lashed out, and Belle had borne the brunt of my fury. It had been one blow too many, the tattered remains of my relationship with Belle left floundering, and now I am the one desperately trying to put back the pieces.

It should reek of hopelessness. And yet, hope is exactly what I have. Because Belle did eventually kiss me back. Did more than just that, she had actively thrown herself into the act, had seem visibly disappointed, even hurt when I had pulled back. It had physically hurt me to stop, but any discomfort I had been feeling, was lost to the elation and smug triumph of her response. So high had I been riding by her reactions, my hope had built to bursting, the words rushing out of me as I had asked Belle to run away with me. That she had turned me down did not matter. Anymore than than it mattered that I won't be asking again. I won't ever be asking, not when it comes down to doing what's best for her, and it is all the better that it benefits me in the long run too. In that way I haven't changed one bit, still the pirate, still greedy and self serving.

There's not a twinge of true remorse in me for the pirate that I am, or for what I will ultimately do. I certainly don't give a damn about what happens to this town, to the people we will be leaving behind. That Belle will doesn't deter me. She can cry and protest all that she likes, but with enough time passing, Belle will eventually get over it. She might even become grateful for it, the woman free of the town and the responsibilities it's people have set on her shoulders time and time again. Even now she bears the burden, Belle making quick work of breakfast so she can hurry back to the shop, and continue her attempts at research. I follow her there, make a half hearted show of paging through a heavy tome, but my thoughts are elsewhere.

I wonder how she'll like Neverland, and wonder at the changes that have surely been wrought there now that it is free of Peter Pan's evil influence. Will the waters be any calmer, will the place still retain it's deathly beauty? Most of all I wonder how much time will be needed? Ten years, fifty, even a hundred? But there's no way of knowing until we are actually there. I almost laugh then, and disguise it with a cough. Belle casts a suspicious glance my way, but I merely shrug at her in response. In my head, the spurt of amusement remains, for never had I thought I'd be eager to return to that foul realm! But that's exactly what I am, and a part of me shifts with impatience. I want it done, I want us gone from this town already. Only then when Belle is safe and secured, can our new life together truly begin.

I'm all but itching for it, for the chance to set our future in motion. I need to find Smee, and to make the arrangements. But I'm not entirely comfortable with leaving Belle all on her own, even if it's just for an hour or so. It's not all to do with the paranoia over what the witch might choose to do, but the memory of our past. The memory of the night that Belle had left me. Then too had I gone off with Smee and the others of my crew, on a heist meant to be the crowning achievement of our land bound careers. It hadn't been a kingdom's weight in gold and silver, but it had been close, enough coin that would have seen us all comfortable for the rest of our lives in the Enchanted Forest. Such a bounty was not without it's immense risks, but somehow with a mix of luck and careful planning, we had managed.

I can't smile for the memory though. Even as I recall the way the four guards had panicked, the way the fire lighting up the forest path had made them fear, the men thinking there was dozens upon dozens of bandits surrounding them. The way they had turned coward and ran, and the fortune they had left behind, even that can't bring a smile to my face for I remember what would happen next. The early hours of the morning, when I and my crew came creeping back to the cottage. I had been riding on a high, more than a little drunk on celebratory rum. Smee and the rest of my crew was in no better shape, uproarious laughter and drunken chatter preceding our arrival. It should have been enough to wake the dead, and yet the cottage didn't so much as stir, not a single light appearing in any of it's windows.

Drunk as I had been, I hadn't spared a thought to think anything strange was a foot. The cottage had looked fine if dark, not a thing out of place in the early twilights where night had not yet given to daybreak. There was even a meal set out for us, fresh drink and cold stew. There was no sign of Belle, not even a single peep from her, and I hadn't been sober enough to wonder just why. I guess I just assumed she had been deep asleep in our bed, but really, nothing short of a sleeping curse could have slept through the noise me and my men were making. It wasn't just the laughter, and excited celebratory whoops, the loud chatter. It was the transporting of our haul, the many heavy chests that clinked and clanked with the sound of their coins and jewels. We'd labor for what felt like hours, the chests being brought in and divided among us. The chests needed to be emptied, needed to be returned to the carriage we had stolen along with the gold. It and the carriage needed to be disposed of, the royal horses needed to be set free. All to better throw off our trail any guards that might come looking.

Most of the silver and gold, and especially that of the jewels, would have to be bartered away. Exchanged for the less inconspicuous copper that was the main currency of most in the kingdoms. But that process could wait a day or two, my men and I having done more than enough this night to secure our fortunes and our futures. Life it seemed, would be good, comfortable, and dare I say maybe even happy. I had no idea of the rude awakening I was in for, the shock and the fear that would soon follow the sun's rising. My men were off eating, or in Smee's case, even sleeping as I went upstairs. A sapphire and silver necklace was clutched in my hand, the pretty jewels in their settings soon slated to be pried out and individually sold. But for the moment, it had remained intact, along with a pressing need inside me to see the pretty necklace around Belle's neck.

A not quite song muttered under my breath, I entered the room, expecting to find Belle asleep in our bed. I hadn't immediately turned frantic, not until I had felt the cold sheets that signified the bed had been empty for a lot longer than a few minutes. It was then that I had registered the sound, or rather the lack of it, no slosh of water that could mean Belle was bathing. I had still burst into the bathroom, still hoped that she would be there, brushing her hair, or in the middle of getting dressed. But she hadn't been there, and with a roar that woke up even Smee, I had screamed out her name, desperate to find her.

I am told Smee actually fell to the floor at the sound of my shout. Several of my crew had also startled, drawing their swords and daggers, until a small armed crowd was standing just outside the bedroom's second floor landing. They had come prepared for an attack of some kind, but were left wide eyed at the sight of me tearing about the room. All of Belle's things were still there save for a dress or two. I should have known then what that had meant, but I hadn't wanted to believe. Better she be kidnapped and held ransom, then the thought of her just up and leaving me!

No note ever came, no ransom was ever demanded, and eventually I was forced to face the truth of what must have happened. She had left me, and I hadn't been able to truly understand it. Nor had I been able to let go, to let HER go, spending a small fortune on any information that could be had, real or otherwise. I was alternately desperate and furious, wanting to find her, wanting to throttle her, wanting to love on her. I had wanted answers, I had wanted understanding, and most of all, I had wanted HER. For two months time I would search, and for two months time I had been thwarted. As though Belle had cast some sort of spell that had kept her from being found, the woman gone to ground, and not even the shadiest and most magical of my associates cold uproot her whereabouts, not even Smee!

For two months time I had lived a hell of my own making, a maelstrom of misery and agony, my anger only growing, my lack of understanding only fueling the fire in me. The fury that beat inside me was determined to find her, to drag Belle back into my life, and keep her there. I know now that Belle had been right to leave me as she had, that it had been the only way to end the madness, the hurt and the pain. She had effectively cut the poison out of her life, and left me spat on the ground where I might have belonged.

Not that I stayed there. Lick a sickness that festers, I rose, ready to find her and start the cycle of misery all over again. I was a man obsessed but in the worst way, MY hurt and MY anger all coalescing into a lust and a rage, that had boiled over the instant I had first found her. The setting may have changed, the people might not have remembered, but I had no such problem. I was both blessed and cursed to remember everything, to remember her, to remember the life I had been living with Belle, and the many ways she had made me feel. With those memories and feelings and temper guiding me, I had set out to hurt her, to make Belle pay for leaving me. I was little more than a hurt boy lashing out, unable to understand, unable to truly fathom all the whys of what she had done. And with her memory gone, Belle hadn't been able to tell me, to explain to me her reasons. To justify her abrupt leaving.

I had blinded myself to her reasons, to the pain that her been reflected in her eyes those last few months that we had spent together. It was a pain that had only grown, Belle hurting and so close to being in love with me, and I had trampled her heart in the process, not once, not twice, but a million times over. I can't help but shudder at what she would think of me if Belle were to remember everything. How much more she might hate me. As bad as I had been in the Enchanted Forest, here in Storybrooke I had been WORSE.

I have much to atone for. A lesser man might wilt in defeat, but then I've been a pirate who has quested for some three hundred years, letting hate and revenge fuel me. Something different, gentler, but no less powerful is inside me now, my eyes open and seeing the true path to my---to OUR happiness. My determination won't let me fail, won't let anyone, even Belle stop me from securing our future. This time we'll be happy, I'll make sure of it.

#once upon a time #fanfic #thedarkflavorofaddiction #ouat #captainbeauty #Belle #Killian Jones #Notsafeforwork #captain beauty #captain hook #captain book #killian x belle

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