#just in the 'nothing can ever be home that is not budapest' way | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mcfiddlestan · 1 year

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Ten Random Lines

Rules: pick any ten of your fics, scroll to the midpoint, pick a line (or three) and share it. Then tag ten people. I was tagged by @mischief-and-tea-by-the-sea.

Tagging anyone who sees this and wants to do it! Also, I did not go to the midpoint on some, lol.

P.S. Not all of these are published. Some were and were taken down, and some aren't finished yet...and may never be, idk.

From Just A Fool, Chapter 5: Clint Throws A Hissy Fit and Natasha Packs a Punch (Frostiron, post-Avengers AU)

Natasha relaxed minutely, dropping her arms to her sides, absently fingering the handle of the knife she kept strapped to her side. “Stark—”

“When did it start?” he blurted out over her soft voice.

“When did what start?”

He turned, setting his dark, determined gaze on her. “You and Barton.” Tony’s lips quirked up at the way Natasha visibly bristled. It was the first time he had ever seen her, this agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., caught off guard. “Was it in Budapest?”

“How is that important to this discussion?”

“What discussion? You dragged me out here to badger me into breaking up with Loki.” Her head jerked in surprise and confusion and he nearly groaned in frustration. “I am, on occasion, not stupid. I can read a room.”

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, even moving away from him, and now he could add seeing genuine emotion to the list of firsts. He didn’t follow her, but he turned to watch her, leaning against the railing casually, enjoying how he was getting to her. “I wasn’t going to badger you, for the record. I was just going to…forcibly convince you.”

From Blank Page, Chapter 14: Waiting for You to Bring Me to Life (Frostiron, Modern AU, friends to lovers to exes to lovers again)

Loki glanced down at one arm, then the other, then his lap. “Including the serpent…nine.”

“Nine?” Tony’s eyes nearly bugged out. “Well, let me see ’em.” Again, Loki made no move to show Tony anything. Tony tilted his head. “Hey, I showed you mine.” He tapped a finger twice to the arc reactor and grinned. “Now show me yours.”

Damn it. That was a fair point. Too fair for Loki to ignore. Moving quite slowly, he tucked one arm into his shirt, then the other, and carefully tugged it over his head. He kept the soft, green garment bundled in his lap, over his right hand. Loki wasn’t normally shy to show off his ink when asked, but it would be different with Tony. His reaction would be different.

He sat there, giving Tony time to take it all in — at least, to take in the tattoos that were visible to him. The most obvious of which was the one of Jörmungandr. It was in varying shades of blacks, greens, and golds, winding around his thin but muscular arm. The head, jaws open in a silent roar, red tongue lashing out, took up a good portion of the left side of his chest. The serpent’s tongue seemed to be licking at the sparse patch of hair in the center of Loki’s chest. Tony angled his head, touching a hand lightly to Loki’s right arm, and he obligingly turned so he could get a look at the emblem of theatre masks in the form of skulls, black and gray, with red accents, surrounded by the words Laugh Now, Cry Later on his right bicep.

“Did Bucky do all this?”

“Yes,” Loki answered softly. “He’s quite talented. Steven initially helped with some of the drawings and outlines, and he provided many samples displayed in the shop and the books. But, James has become quite a proficient artist himself.” He was rambling; words were tumbling out of his mouth. “The shop is doing quite well, actually; well enough that he and Steven are thinking of purchasing a home and marrying next year when Steven completes his army service.”

Tony made an impressed face but said nothing else on the subject. “Where are the other ones?” Loki hesitated again, briefly, before turning his back to Tony, showing him the side view of a black raven with its wings spread across his left shoulder blade. He slightly shivered when Tony brushed his fingers over the wings. “Wow…nice.”

Righting himself, Loki bent over to lift the legs of his loose-fitting pants, and Tony lowered down to a knee on the floor, his mouth still hanging open. “That is James’ design of a rising phoenix.” He pointed to the black, red, and gold design rising from a bed of black and red flames that encircled his right calf.

“Damn, that’s kick-ass,” Tony murmured.

Loki grinned softly, then pushed his pant leg down and put forward his left leg. “And, obviously, those are flames.” The flames seemed to emit from Loki’s ankle, starting in deep reds and oranges, and bled into cooler blues and purples.

“Those are really nice. Bucky does good work.” Tony spoke his complimentary words and moved to sit on the bed again.” What about the other ones?”

Loki dropped his other pant leg and fixed Tony with what he knew was a serious gaze. “Uh, well… they’re not anything spectacular, like the others you’ve seen — just a, um…,” he glanced down toward his lap, and clamped a hand over his right wrist, still hidden beneath his removed shirt.

“What?” Tony chuckled. “Show me.”

“Yes, of course,” Loki murmured. He didn’t pull his hand from under the shirt. Instead, he shoved his hand through the neck hole, exposing just enough of his wrist to reveal a thick-lined, black symbol. “There’s not much else to it. It’s a Norse rune. It means peace.”

“Cool. Let me see.” Tony reached for him, getting a loose grip on Loki’s forearm, and pushed at the shirt. Loki tugged, trying to snatch his arm away. “Wait—”

“No. Anthony, don’t.”

“I just wanna see — let me see—” There was a brief struggle before Tony ultimately yanked the shirt away. And he spotted the three dates inked into Loki’s skin beneath the rune. “What the…?”

Once Tony’s fingers loosened from around his wrist, Loki pulled his arm back, covering his wrist with his left hand, and holding it to his chest, where his heart was racing.

“What is that?”

“Nothing,” Loki muttered. Tentatively, he lifted his eyes to Tony’s. Then dropped them again when he held out his hand, palm up.

“Loki.”

He was kicking himself for these particular tattoos now. Bucky had warned him. Get them in a more hidden place, he’d said. Remember, not remind. But, stubborn as a mule, Loki wanted what he wanted, where he wanted it. And Bucky acquiesced. Breathing fast, squeezing his eyes shut tight, Loki lowered his arm to Tony’s hand.

To Tony's view, the dates, inked in the simple format of the numbers of the months, days, and years, were upside down, so he shifted to read them better. His breath released in a quiet gasp that Loki felt fan over his skin, followed by a swipe of his finger. When Loki finally opened his eyes, he saw Tony was pointing at the first date.

“That’s the day your mom died.” It was a statement, not a question, but Loki still felt compelled to confirm it.

“Yes.”

He watched Tony swipe his finger over the third date in a darker black than the others, which meant it must have been more recent. “This…” His finger still on Loki’s racing pulse, Tony flicked his eyes up. His voice was barely above a whisper and tight with emotion. It cut deep, right into Loki’s soul. “This is the day I came home.”

Straining to keep his cool, to control the trembling of his chin, Loki nodded.

“Why?”

Loki moved his eyes to his wrist, quickly flicking away a tear that rolled down his cheek. “They…” Loki cursed the cracking of his voice. “Those are three important dates for me. Something significant, something that changed everything from that day forward, happened on each of those days.”

Loki’s bottom lip was still quivering as Tony ran his finger over the middle date. “Loki…what…what happened on this day?”Oh, gods. Loki’s left hand curled into the material of his shirt in his lap, and he cleared his throat so he could speak clearly. “It was…the day that Steven Rogers saved my life.”

From Empire State of Mind, Chapter 2: An Offer He Should Refuse (Frostiron, post-Avengers AU)

“Stark…”

“You shouldn’t have come here, Loki.” Tony spun around. “This isn’t a sanctuary for the criminally insane.” Tony thought about Clint and Natasha — and himself. “Mostly. You can’t just show up here and think everything is forgiven and —”

“I can make you a deal.”

Tony drew up short at the interruption. Once again, common sense was telling him he shouldn’t even listen, shouldn’t even consider the deal. But if Tony only relied on common sense, he wouldn’t be one of the richest men in the world. “What deal?”

Loki rose from the stool and slowly stepped to him. “Allow me to reside here for the week…and I will never bother you or the others again.”

Tony’s face relaxed, and he brought a hand up to stroke his goatee. It sounded too good to be true — which meant it probably was. “How do I know I can trust you?”

“You can’t,” Loki answered simply. “Just as I cannot trust that you won’t contact your agency or your Director Fury and turn me over to them. But I can set your mind at ease on one point.”

‘What’s that?”

“You need not worry about any impending chaos or destruction. My magic is,” He lifted his hands, turning them as he looked at them. “Quite limited right now. And courting chaos is the farthest thing from my mind at the moment, to be honest.”

Tony’s eyes shot down to Loki’s hands after he lowered them to his sides again. “So you’re not going to conjure up your glow stick of destiny and try to put me under your magic spell or anything?”

Loki fought a smile. “No. My sceptre has been….” He looked away annoyed and sighed, “Confiscated. It’s hidden somewhere on Asgard by the Allfather’s magic. It would drain my own magic if I tried to search for it. And if I recall correctly, that didn’t work the first time.”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed with a laugh. “I know. I just wanted to remind you of it.”

From Stay With Me, Chapter 1 (WinterFrost, Modern AU, mechanic!Bucky, graduate student!Loki)

Bucky stuck a cigarette between his lips and rose to excuse himself. He had been outside for a few minutes, enjoying his cigarette in silence when he felt another’s presence. He didn’t have to look to know it was Steve. “I’m fine,” he murmured while exhaling a thick plume of smoke.

A chuckle sounded beside him. “How’d you know I was gonna ask you that?”

“‘Cause I know you.”

“Ha, yeah.” Both men went quiet again, the crickets’ song and the clinking of ice in Steve’s tea the only sounds between them. “You gonna come around on Sunday?”

Bucky glanced at his friend, in the middle of taking another drag from the cigarette. “Remind me…?”

“Peggy’s birthday.”

“Oh! Yeah, absolutely.”

“Good,” Steve breathed the word out on an almost relieved sigh. “I need you here. Peggy and me, we’re gonna tell Abraham about the engagement.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Steve barked out a laugh. “No — sorry,” Bucky chuckled. “You know what I mean.” Steve nodded and took another drink of his tea. Bucky frowned in thought and glanced at him. “I didn’t know you still kept in touch with him.”

Steve shrugged. “He and his wife raised me, Bucky.”

Bucky’s lips twitched. “You lived with them for four years, Steve,” he pointed out. “Until you aged out.”

“I know,” he responded softly. Bucky took one last drag before stubbing out the cigarette and shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “He wrote to me, Buck,” Steve mumbled into the silence. “His wife sent me stuff…while I was over there.” He continued to speak softly, but with conviction, as he always did when he spoke of his time in Iraq.

Bucky stood completely still, forcing himself not to shuffle his feet or make some excuse to go inside. He always felt a little uncomfortable when Steve brought up Iraq. Without ever delving too much into his reasons, he blindly assumed it was guilt; guilt he carried for not going back for a second tour with Steve, for choosing to walk away from the army to be a regular mechanic in a regular garage in a regular city, leaving Steve without the expert sniper that he was.

That Steve had a rougher time there, saw worse things than the first time, and lost some men, only made Bucky feel worse. They never discussed it after that first time. And even now, as the two friends, who had known each other since they were boys in Brooklyn, stood under the dim yellow porch light, it grew more tense by the second.

"I better get going," Bucky finally said, unable to take it another minute.

Steve’s head shot up. “Already? You sure you’re all right to ride?”

“Had a long week. And I’m fine, Stevie. Don’t worry so much.” Bucky held out a hand to him, and Steve gripped his tightly. “I’ll see you on Sunday. Promise.” He released Steve’s hand and moved to head down the walkway to his motorcycle parked in front on the street.

“You’re not gonna say bye to the others?” Steve aimed a thumb behind him at the house, even as Bucky swung a leg over the bike and reached for his helmet.

“Do it for me?” He chuckled at Steve’s eye-rolling and started up the motorcycle. “See you later, buddy.”

From All I Ask, Chapter 2 (WinterFrost, Modern AU, veteran!Bucky, artist!Loki)

April in New York was beautiful. New York was beautiful; he mentally corrected himself. California had been nice; Los Angeles was sunny, warm, and very laid-back. Too laid-back. Loki thought he would go mad if he spent too long there. It wasn't as if he wasn't inspired by the snow-capped mountains in the distance, the sandy beaches that stretched for miles north and south, or the acres of orange and lemon groves he'd seen once on a helicopter ride. But that much free time, in that beautiful of a place, turned out to be detrimental to his productivity.

New York was more to his liking. Bustling city life was where Loki needed to be. Taking up his pencil, he began to sketch his view of the horizon languidly. The sun was starting to hide behind some skyscrapers, but the sky was lit up in so many vivid colors that it was difficult to resist putting it down on paper so he could add the colors later. Colored pencils, perhaps. Maybe watercolor.

As he sketched, the pungent odor of cigarette smoke reached his nose. Confused, since it wasn’t usually cigarettes one could smell around here, Loki searched for the source. He found it on the balcony just below his.

There was his hearing-sensitive neighbor, one floor below, straddling the sill of his open window, taking a deep drag off a cigarette. Irritation hit Loki first — at the cigarette stench and because the man had made more complaints about Loki's music and work hours. And because deep down he'd never lost the enjoyment of being a pain to others – and because he was such a little shit – Loki was all set to yell down for his downstairs neighbor to put out his cigarette when the light of the setting sun hit a window somewhere across from them. It reflected onto the other at just the right angle.

Loki went still. The picture of him sitting on the sill brought an image to Loki’s mind, and, quietly, he flipped a page. He began a light outline, moving his pencil blindly over the page as Loki watched his neighbor bring the cigarette to his lips again. He shot a quick look down at his sketch, using the tip of his finger to smudge a line here and there. Catching movement in his vision, Loki saw his newest subject – he was horrible with names, honestly – had risen and stretched out his arms.

That was when Loki caught sight of something abnormal on his left arm. Marks – no, Loki decided. Scars. Deep scars, only shades lighter than his other arm, were etched into the skin, from shoulder to wrist. Perhaps his hand, too, but he wore a black fingerless glove hiding the majority of his hand. Loki inhaled sharply, seeing the beauty in the marring of his otherwise flawless skin, seeing the potential of how he could recreate it on paper. Or canvas. Or anything.

It was too late when Loki decided to call out to him – and say what, he questioned himself. His neighbor had ducked back inside. Loki looked over his rough drawing, wondering if the man downstairs would sit for him just a couple of times. Maybe.

From Untitled SamTasha fic, Chapter 1 (SamTasha, Stucky, Modern AU, firefighter!Sam & Steve, musician!Bucky, businesswoman!Natasha)

Sam Wilson wasn't paying attention. A swift sucker punch to the gut brought him back around. Groaning, half bent over, he glared up at his friend and working partner, Steve Rogers. "What the fuck, Steve?" Steve only shrugged and grinned. That stupid, boyish little smile that made everyone back at the firehouse think he was such a sweet guy. "This is what happens, my friend, when you sleep on the job." Sam straightened, keeping a hand pressed to his stomach. "Excuse me if I'd rather watch a pretty lady box than be your damn coach." "Hey, don't do me any favors. But I'd be careful with that one." Steve glanced back at the redhead and the man with a bun at the back of his head sparring in the boxing ring. "Pretty sure she could wipe this entire gym floor, the one above it, and below it, with your ass in a cinch." Sam chortled. "You know I'd let her, too. Look at her." He urged Steve to turn around completely and bit into his bottom lip. They weren't the only ones being spectators. Several of the gym's patrons had taken a break from their regimes to watch the skilled match. Grunts of exertion and cries of both defeat and victory sounded between the man and woman as punches were blocked and kicks were averted. "What is that?" Sam asked, crossing his arms. "That's no regular boxing." Steve made a noise of uncertainty. "Looks like some mix of martial arts. Krav Maga maybe." The man ducked a deft sweep of the woman's leg by dropping into a split and Steve's brows lifted, impressed. He chuckled and slapped a hand to his friend's chest. "Come on, Wilson. We're wasting time. We have to head back in a bit." Sam sighed, torn, and not a little disappointed. "Yeah…wait." Steve scoffed under his breath and looked back in time to watch as the redhead landed a swift kick to the man's chest, making him stagger back. And she spared no time to let him gather himself; she launched herself at him, clasped her hands onto his broad shoulders and used them to swivel herself around him, not once but twice, propelling herself with her legs – short as they may be, but clearly strong – and ended it all by trapping his neck between her thighs and landing with a slam that echoed through the gym to the canvas.

“Son of a bitch,” Steve muttered in a shocked gasp. He looked over at Sam and saw the curve of his lips. “No.”

“I have to.”

“Damn it, Wilson.”

“Five minutes. I swear.”

“We're gonna be late.”

“I'll make it up to you, okay?” Sam pleaded even as he started to back away, moving toward the ring where Natasha was helping Bucky to his feet.

“Damn right you will. You're buying the food tonight.”

Sam stopped. “What? Why?”

“I'm on chef duty for tonight; you're making me late, so you have to buy the food.”

Sam lifted dark eyes to the ceiling, brushing Steve off. “Fine, whatever. Meet me in the locker room.”

“Oh, no.” Steve began to unravel the tape around his large hands. “I'm watching this. Gotta make sure I get all the details to tell the guys.”

Sam frowned hard at him, but Steve merely sent him that boyish grin again. Steve got one hand free, and watched as Sam approached the redhead, her dark-haired friend practically limping away. He noted Sam’s usual moves; a bashful smile, maintained eye contact that thankfully, was more flirtatious than creepy, and an offering of his hand. He gestured as he spoke and Steve had to bite back a chuckle at the indifference on the redhead’s face. He turned away briefly, to toss the tape from his hands into a trash bin, and when he turned back, Sam was on his way back. With a giant smile on his face.

“Shit,” Steve breathed to himself. “You mean you actually got her name and number?”

“Better. I got her to agree to get a drink with me.”

Steve raised a brow, surprised yet skeptical. “A drink?”

“Yeah. Sort of a pre-date date. If we hit it off, she'll consider going on an actual date with me.”

Steve made an impressed face. “She's screening you. I like her already.” He started off toward the locker rooms and Sam fell in step beside him.

“Hey, you're not busy tomorrow night, right?”

“No, I'm off the next…” Realization dawning, Steve stopped and looked at Sam, jaw tight, eyes bright under lowered eyebrows. “What did you do?”

“Nothing!” Sam protested; but his smile was still too big. “All right, look. She agreed to drinks…but to make it more casual, and less like a real date – I get the feeling she's been let down a lot,” he added as an aside, “I agreed to bring along a friend. And she'll bring one, too.”

Steve's head fell back, an exhalation of breath that sounded like a pained groan released. “Sam…”

“It's just drinks!” He promised. “And it'll be my treat.”

“You bet your ass it's your treat. Come on,” he started for the showers again. “I’ve got a meal to plan and you’ve got some begging to do.”

Sam rolled his eyes, grinning like an idiot, and followed.

From Dark Side (Part One of the Picture Perfect series), Chapter 23: The Definition of Gay and Birthday Sex

When Loki opened his eyes, Darcy had taken the seat directly across from them. He frowned at her and sat up. Tony moved to rest his head on Loki’s shoulder and curl himself around Loki’s arm, but he didn’t wake up.

“Has something happened?”

Darcy shook her head, her dark curls, spilling out from the bright turquoise knit beanie she wore, bounced around her shoulders. “Nah, I just felt like I was invading their time together. So, I came out here.” Her smile grew to show big white teeth. “And found you guys cuddling.”

Loki chuckled softly. He saw Darcy’s gaze focus on Tony, almost narrowing, and turned to look down at him himself. “What are you looking at?”

“How’d you do it?” she asked, her voice full of what sounded like wonder.

“Do what?”

“How’d you get Tony Stark to commit? Nobody’s ever been able to do it. Is it because he didn’t know he was gay?” She turned those big blue eyes on Loki and asked the question like she was asking if he wanted a piece of gum.

He grinned. “You’re under the assumption that people only fall into the two categories of ‘gay’ or ‘straight.’”

Darcy’s face contorted. “Tsch, yeah! Well, I mean, I know you don’t.”

“Do you?” Loki raised an eyebrow, crossed one long leg over the other, careful not to jostle or move a still-sleeping Tony.

“Yeah, because you were with Bucky, then Maria, and now Tony. So, you’re bi, right?”

Loki shrugged. “If that’s the name you wish to apply to it.”

Darcy tilted her head to the side and mimicked Loki’s position, crossing her legs. “What would you call it?” she challenged.

“I don’t attach any labels to myself, dear. Others seem more inclined and happy to do it for me.”

“But you guys,” she aimed a black-polished finger at him, then at Tony, back and forth a few times. “You and Tony, you do it a lot. I mean, that’s what I heard.”

Loki couldn’t help the curve of his lips. He glanced down at Tony when he buried his nose into the sleeve of Loki’s sweater for a brief moment. “You heard as in from someone else, or you heard as in you were eavesdropping outside my door?”

Darcy made a horrified face. “Eww, gross, no! I meant like gossip. I. Hear. Everything, Loki,” she said with an authoritative air, pressing a hand to her chest. “That’s why I’m so surprised that Tony’s been with you for so long. Even with Pepper, it was off and on. And only for, like, a month at a time.”

“Is that so?”

She nodded knowingly, almost wisely, like she was teaching him a lesson. “So, what’d you do, huh? Did you use magic on him? Did you put him under some spell of yours?” She wiggled her fingers like a magician.

Loki’s chin lowered. “You jest, but your question suggests the only way Anthony Stark could fall in love is if he was tricked into it.”

Darcy’s shoulders and hands lifted in an innocent gesture. “I’m just saying, as far as I know, you’re the first person he ever said he’s loved. Besides himself, of course.” Loki smiled, chuckled, and nodded his head more in acknowledgment than agreement. “So…?”

Loki lifted his gaze to hers and smiled politely. “Sorry — Darcy, is it?” She nodded. “I’m afraid I am not inclined to discuss the details of my relationship with you. I mean, no offense. But I especially won’t discuss it when the other half of said relationship is awake and listening.”

Darcy blinked, and her mouth fell open as her eyes shot to Tony.

“Aw, man!” Tony sat up and playfully shoved Loki. “How’d you know?”

Loki cocked his head to the side. “I believe I’m familiar as to when you are awake or asleep after spending the last four months sleeping beside you, Anthony. Also, you laughed when Darcy said you’ve never loved anyone but yourself.”

“Shit, I gave myself away. You’re no fun.”

From As Long As You're Mine (Frostiron, post-Avengers AU)

“You lost?” he quipped.

Loki’s eyes remained fixed on Tony’s, and that sexy little smirk curved his lips. “Not at all. Thought I’d pop in and say hello.”

Tony forced out a chuckle, but that’s exactly what it sounded like — forced. “Yeah, right. Where’re your horns, Reindeer Games?”

Loki’s smirk melted into a dreamy grin and, clasping his hands behind his back, moved toward the bar. “I’m sure you’re aware I’ve managed to escape Odin’s clutches, yes?”

Tony nodded.

“Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to retrieve my sceptre or much else. I’m lucky I managed to snatch this off the hook in the prison they tried to secure me in.” He flicked the lapel of the coat before shrugging it off his shoulders and setting it aside as he slid onto one of the barstools.

“I’m not sure luck is a word that applies to anything that you do.” Tony hadn’t moved from his spot; he didn’t dare. If he moved over to the bar or anywhere near Loki, he knew they would both be in serious trouble.

Loki laughed softly, then gestured lightly toward the collections of bottles and glasses behind the bar. “Aren’t you going to offer me a drink?”

Damn it all to hell. “Fine,” Tony muttered and reluctantly made his way behind the bar, setting down his glass. “What’s your poison?”

“I am sure whatever it is you’re drinking will suffice.”

Without another word, Tony pulled out a tumbler from under the bar and filled it halfway with Jack Daniels. Seconds after sliding it across the counter to Loki, it slid back, empty. He looked at it, frowned.

“Why won’t you look at me?”

Fuck. Deeply inhaling, Tony’s eyes flicked up, meeting a pair of deep green eyes. Green? Tony could’ve sworn Loki’s eyes were blue. He must have looked confused because…

“Is there a problem?”

“No, I…I thought your eyes were blue. That’s all.” Dropping his gaze, Tony refilled his glass and Loki’s before placing it in front of him. He watched Loki’s fingers wrap around the glass, felt that damn rush again.

“That day, they were. A side effect of the Tesseract’s influence, thanks to the Chitauri. You’ll remember the Hawk’s eyes were similarly blue. More so than usual,” he added before Tony could respond. Loki took a long drink, swallowed, and sighed a bit at the burn down his throat to his empty stomach. When was the last time he refueled? He couldn’t remember. He drank again. It wasn’t what he was used to on Asgard, he thought as he ran his tongue across his lips, but it was good. “I must admit, Stark…”

Tony looked up at his name. It was the first time Loki had ever used it.

“I’m surprised you would remember the color of my eyes.” He lifted the glass again, fixed Tony with a steady gaze over its rim. “Should I be flattered?”

Tony feigned indifference, though inside everything was fluttering, beating a mile a minute, or generally spazzing out in a way he refused to acknowledge on the outside. He finished off his drink to calm it all down. “Are you asking permission? I thought you did what you wanted. Or is that just a bunch of bullshit?”

It was silent for a beat. “Quite right.”

Tony jerked back but could go nowhere when Loki’s arm snaked out, his hand fisting in Tony’s black Aerosmith tee, and pulled him across the bar to plant his mouth on his. Tony’s lips parted to object, but when he felt that long, velvety tongue slide into his mouth, he forgot whatever it was he was going to say.

From Second Time Around, Chapter 1: Thirty-Six Days Later (WinterFrost, Modern AU, disgraced vet!Bucky, college student!Loki)

The August sun was blazing down, overheating the concrete of the sidewalks and the black pavement of the parking lot, when James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes stepped through the sliding doors of the pristine white medical building. He slipped a dark pair of shades over his sleepy ice blue eyes and idly wished he hadn't worn a black t-shirt and dark jeans. But he always favored dark colored clothes. He took a deep breath, and though the air was thick and hot, he was just grateful to be outdoors for the first time in over a month.

A car horn sounded and an old station wagon pulled up to the curb. Bucky saw a female hand push out from behind the lowered window and wave him over, followed by his mother's overly sweet voice saying, "Yoo-hoo! Bucky, dear!"

A little embarrassed, Bucky gave a small wave back and turned to the orderly that had escorted him out, shook his hand, and laughed at the man's attempt at humor when he told Bucky to not call or write or visit.

He picked up his duffel bag of personal items from the bench he stood next to and headed to the station wagon, where both of his parents now stood outside the car, waiting for him. They both welcomed him with a hug; his mother's, as usual, feeling just a bit more genuine than his father's. They all climbed back into the car and started the drive back to their quiet little town, a couple hour's drive.

Bucky stared out the window, blankly watching the world pass by, barely listening to his mother rattle on, filling him in on everything that had happened while he was cooped up in a rehabilitation facility for the past thirty-six days. Intermittently, he brought a cigarette to his lips and inhaled the rich taste of tobacco and smoke. Apparently, nothing much had changed; summer block parties were had, recent graduates both left for college and returned from it — nothing Bucky really missed out on. But the big story of the week, and likely for the rest of what was left of the summer, was about the bravery and courage of the town's favorite war hero, Captain Steve Rogers — who also happened to be Bucky's best friend.

Steve, an Army captain, had been going on his daily jog one morning, running from one part of town to another, and back. He often liked to run alongside the ravine that crossed through the city, as it veered away from the heaviest parts of traffic. It just so happened on this particular morning, a young girl had fallen into the ravine, chasing after her ball and couldn't climb back out, after twisting her ankle. Steve had heard her cries, climbed down and carried her, and her ball, to the nearest medical office, and saved the day.

Bucky's mother fed the tale to him, sounding as prideful as a mother hen. Rightfully so, though, as she had taken on the role of parent after Steve's mother died when he was just eighteen, not long after both he and Bucky had left to join the army. Her death left his childhood friend an orphan, as his father had died when he was barely out of toddlerhood. Bucky leaned his head back against the red leather bench seat of the station wagon, concentrating on his breathing, exhaling long plumes of smoke, letting those pesky feelings of resentment and hurt seep from him, like a drop of water sliding down his back to eventually dissipate in darkness somewhere. His mother always spoke of Steve in high regard. And why shouldn't she? The guy was the shining example of the all-American good guy.

From Untitled MaLoki fic, Prologue (Maleficent/Loki, AU crossover between Maleficent (2014) and Thor (2011))

The explosions were getting louder, closer. Maleficent, the Younger, could feel the ground shake and the windows with it. She heard voices outside and downstairs, yelling and screaming. When she looked out the window in her bedroom, she could see tunnels of smoke in the distance and shadowed figures fighting on the hills of Svartalfheim. Father was out there somewhere.

There was so much happening, but she didn’t know what to do. What she could do. Her magic was still too powerful for her to wield. Mother was training her. But then the war happened.

“Maleficent!“

She turned her head at her mother’s voice, shaken by its urgency. She slipped on her shoes and ran to find her. “Yes, Mama?” She stood looking over the railing where Mother was searching for her frantically in the foyer.

“Come. Quickly. We must go.” She met Maleficent at the bottom of the stairs, and took her by the arms. “Where is Astrid?”

“I am here, milady,” a voice spoke from a doorway leading to the kitchen.

Maleficent’s mother took her hand and reached for Astrid’s — then placed Maleficent’s into Astrid’s. “Take her. Make haste to the field beyond the forest.”

“No, Mother, I want to stay with you.”

Maleficent, the Elder, knelt before her young daughter, her fingers trailing down her chestnut hair, falling over her shoulders on either side of the horns growing out of her head. Maleficent saw her swallow thickly and her stomach twisted with anxiety. “I’m afraid you cannot, pieni korppi. The Einherjar are getting closer. You must go.” [Little Raven]

Maleficent felt tears sting her yellow eyes. “But I could help. I could—“

“No.” Maleficent the Elder was quick to quiet her daughter, her only child. She rose again and turned to Astrid. As she spoke to her, Maleficent the Younger looked past her, out of the entrance to the home she lived in with her mother and father. She could see the explosions growing nearer and nearer.

“And remember, Astrid: Neshihi rouhilejee, tifidhoh djonta elithidheene yr ajamihi/.” [To save our people, there is nothing I would not sacrifice.]

“Yes, milady. And may the threads of the Norns guide you on your journey.”

Maleficent the Elder nodded. She turned as Maleficent called her, expecting the young fairy beside her, but found her just inside the entrance. “Maleficent…?”

Maleficent stared, frozen in horror, as a ball of orange fire headed straight for them. Her mother shouted and instinctively, Maleficent raised her arms, her magic — purple at its edges — coming to her fingers. But she never got to use it. An arm wrapped around her waist and she was hurled in the air, her young but powerful wings spread and wrapped around her body protectively as she landed directly in the arms of Astrid.

“Run!“

“Mother!”

Maleficent reached for her, but Astrid was strong. Tears streamed down her face as she watched her mother — her strong, willful mother — hold the ball of fire back, her own magic a cobalt blue. The elder Maleficent strained and the younger knew she wouldn’t hold it much longer.

Their eyes, matching sets of yellow with dark green edges, locked, and Maleficent heard her mother’s voice in her mind: Go, my child. I will always be with you. Kira liljal nol. Now! [I love you.]

Maleficent stopped struggling and let Astrid take her from her home. As the image of her mother being consumed by a wall of fire burned into her memory, Maleficent vowed revenge on Bor, son of Buri, and the realm of Asgard.

Apologies for the length. LOL. Three or four sentences is hardly anything. If you read this far, yay! Thanks!

xoxo, La

#ten random lines #matbts #frostiron #winterfrost #stucky #samtasha #maloki #my fics #stuff i wish i would finish #stuff i surprised i did #stuff i'm kind of proud of

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delicris · 5 months

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ohhh, bolts and nuts! a very curious title, i'm intrigued 👀

BOLTS AND NUTS MY BABY

wolfstar, explicit, CZECH REMUS

this one is a modern au that takes place in my home country czechia!! it's a v bittersweet story of many first and last times. a lot of czech culture and references to it, i took the title itself from a czech song called šrouby a matice. the whole thing is written retrospectively (and from remus' pov), which is a choice i made to show that the story has already been told and there is nothing u can do to change it... right?

some of the tags include: gasps AND THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, slice of life, trans sirius black and comfort (a huge motif, i love writing about different types of comfort and the additional feelings it brings)

THE PINTEREST BOARD HAS ALMOST 600 PINS AND I AM SO PROUD OF IT

aaand a lil snippet for u. featuring remus's gay panic and sirius acting out a train:

“Oh, um… I’m sorry? I don’t speak a word of Czech and I do realize that’s like one of the rudest fucking things ever — I can’t even say ‘thank you’, how did I think I was going to do this? Anyways, point is… You speak any English?”

Now it’s Remus’s turn to stare because one, it’s too early for this, as we’ve established a billion and one times before, and two, how the fuck did he watch this guy and didn’t catch the English swearing… And before he can even properly blink his shock away, the stranger is talking yet again.

“Fuck, okay… I,” he starts, fumbling a little and pointing at himself, “ticket, um… fuck. Train, uh… shoo shoo,” he tries to vocalize and act out a train. And Remus just fucking loses it, laughing so earnestly, surprising both the man in front of him and himself as he brings the attention of the entire three other people who are standing at the station with them towards the two of them. He doesn’t mind it a single bit and chokes out: “I know English, but now I wish I kept that going for a little longer.” Which might be a rude thing to say to someone you’ve met literally seconds ago, but he can’t bring himself to care all that much as he tries to catch his breath and regain at least some leftover dignity. And, to his delight, this whole thing actually makes the guy in front of him laugh. Oh, he’s so fucking beautiful.

Now he can make out the finer details of… everything. His earrings are stacked on both of his ears, a mix of silver and gold which is present in every piece of jewellery he’s wearing. Under the leather jacket is hiding a flowy white shirt with way too many buttons opened, making room for the chest tattoos — all in all, Remus is fucked. But he can’t let himself get embarrassed, so as soon as the man starts talking, he stops staring like a kid in a candy store.

“Now that you’re done laughing at my piss poor attempts at acting out a train,” he starts, tone playful and a smile spreading across his cheeks, “I’d really appreciate if you’d help me out with this fucking thing. Need to buy a ticket to Budapest and this fucker isn’t doing its job.”

#fic: bolts and nuts (a connection for eternity)#ugh i love them sm #my fav wolfstar i've ever rotated around in my head fr #could talk about them for hourssss #these bitches r so tragic RAAAAAAAAH

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birches-and-hawks · 2 years

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Vernaculars and Misogyny (and antiziganism)

@erzsebetrosztoczy this one is for you mwuahh <3 mandatory disclaimer: I can obvi speak to the Hungarian experience but I'm pretty sure it's also common elsewhere

Okay so it's nothing new that vernaculars (tájszólás, dialect) are looked down upon. No matter what vernacular you speak, if it's not proper Hungarian you are viewed as uneducated, you're branded as the 'vidéki' (person from the countryside) or 'falusi" (villager) and depending on the dialect, they might even sprinkle in a bit of antiziganism. Nothing new, just laying down the bases.

Let me briefly mention codeswitching too, because while the words 'code-switching' and 'vernacular' were definitely popularized in English because of AAVE, they certainly don't only pertain to that. Code-switching can happen with any vernacular and I think it's a pretty common experience for Hungarians with a tájszólás (vernacular, dialect) that they learn how to speak 'proper Hungarian' in bigger cities but especially especially Budapest.

Now for me, half of the fam is in Budapest where I also live, but the other half is in Borsod where we visit quite frequently and guess what, I go to Borsod I speak with a tájszólás (and according to my friends at home, sometimes it even slips out when I'm in Budapest). It's even a topic of laughs and giggles sometimes, because me and my dad immediately switch when we go to Borsod, something that we laugh at quite often because its that noticeable. Now speaking of Borsod, I don't even have to mention how this vernacular correlates with antiziganism 🙃But lets move on

Walking in Miskolc I was listening to how others speak, I definitely have a less noticeable tájszólás since I'm not actually #bornandraised Borsodi but you know what else I noticed? Men tend to speak the vernacular more and/or more noticeably. Have you ever noticed that? It's one thing that kids are made to feel ashamed of their tájszólás but I've noticed that shame and that need to code-switch is even more prominent in women. Because tájszólás is viewed as something dirty, stupid, uneducated, the opposite of proper. "Rendes lány legyél, rendesen beszélj stb" (Be a proper girl, speak properly etc). Being proper is ingrained in girls and women, and that even shows in the way we speak and as a way to appear 'proper' I think a lot of women also develop a tendency to code-switch or try to unlearn their vernacular.

That's it that's the rant, anti-vernacular rhetorics affect women more.

#vernacular #tájszólás #language #linguistics #feminism #misogny #hungarian #budapest #borsod #rant #i speak

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fic-for-fic-sake · 3 years

Text

Playing with Fire

Pairing: Loki x reader

Warning: Slight foreplay but not even

A/N: This is not at all somewhat loosely inspired by events happening in my everyday life...shut up.

You, Wanda, and Nat decided to have a girls night. In a team full of male ego’s, sometimes the testosterone got too strong to bear so you three called in a girls night. It wasn’t the typical slumber party vibes you had seen in the movies. Instead of makeovers and candy it was sparring and wine. The two weren’t exactly meant for each other but with enhanced individuals getting drunk was pretty much off the table anyway.

You were in the middle of throwing knives at Wanda, who was expertly dodging them, while Nat was going on about her latest mission with Clint.

“I mean it was fine but it wasn’t Budapest, you know?” She complained between reps. You chuckled under your breath and Nat clocked it. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing. It’s just, I may have made a tiny little drinking game.” You explained, going over to the wine bottles and taking a swig to emphasize your point. “Every time you bring up Budapest I take a drink.”

“I don’t bring it up that much.” She fired back.

Wanda gave her a pointed look, not even having to open her mouth to say where she stood on the matter.

“Fine,” Nat began, “if you guys have to drink when I mention Budapest then I get to drink when Y/N talks about Loki.”

You instantly regretted bringing up the drinking game. You coughed a bit as wine got caught in the wrong pipe. “I do NOT talk about him that much.” All it took was another pointed look from Wanda to know that that was complete and utter bullshit.

“Yeah but that’s different because I’m not in a relationship with Loki.”

“But you want to be.” Wanda noted, taking the wine bottle from your hands and drinking a long pull, winking at you as she did.

“Whether I want it or not is irrelevant.” You insisted, suddenly wishing you could steer the conversation into literally any other direction.

“And why is that?” Nat asked, coming over to where you and Wanda stood and arching a crimson eyebrow at you.

“Because, Loki is, he’s…”

“Bad news.” Wanda offered at the same time Nat said “Trouble.”

“Exactly.” You confirmed. “So whatever feelings I may or may not have will promptly be shoved down into the very darkest corner of my mind until they simply cease to exist.”

“How has that worked for you in the past?” Nat inquired.

“It’s worked out just fine, thank you very much.”

“And how many relationships have you been in?” Wanda questioned.

“None.” You replied automatically. “Fuck.”

Sensing your not-so-inner turmoil Wanda gave you back the bottle of wine which you proceeded to polish off.

“He doesn’t even pay attention to me anyway.” You tried to justify to them.

“Didn’t you guys talk for like two hours last Wednesday?” Wanda pointed out.

“Yeah, we did, it was actually a really nice conversation.” You recalled.

You had been sitting in the library reading when Loki walked in, looking stunning in what he considered to be casual clothes, which had been laughable. While his forest green tunic and tailored black pants had certainly been a step down from his battle armor, it was a far cry from casual, at least by mortal standards.

He had asked what book you were reading which then led to a discussion about the different types of Midardian literature and the crossovers with Asgardian books. And that had lent itself to him offering to give you some Asgardian books so you could see if you liked them or not. True to his word, later that night you found a stack of four books sitting outside your door with a note from Loki telling you that he had enchanted them to automatically translate from Asgardian to English.

“So...how can you say he doesn’t pay attention to you?” Nat asked, rolling her eyes as if you were oblivious to the attention he had given you. Which, of course, you weren’t. You had finished two of the books already and were chomping at the bit to tell Loki what you thought of them. But there was only one problem.

“He hasn’t spoken to me since.” You confessed, feeling suddenly very small and stupid.

“That doesn’t make sense...not even a word?” Wanda asked, so gently you thought your heart would shatter.

“But see, it does make sense. Because this is what he does. He’ll talk to me and make me feel like I’m the only person in the world and then he’ll fuck off for God knows how long and swoop in just as I’m giving up hope that he’ll ever speak to me again. He has me on his hook and he knows it. But none of that even matters.”

“Because you’re shoving your feelings down?” Nat offered.

“Yes, and because he has a girlfriend.” You said, feeling your heart sink as the weight of your words hit you. It’s not like you had expected anything to happen between you two but him being in a relationship was like closing a door you never expected to be open to you to begin with. It hurt and you hated to admit that it hurt and you hated him for making it hurt.

“Yeah, I had heard Thor talking about Loki and Sygn earlier. How do you feel?” Wanda asked, handing you another bottle of wine.

“Fine, I feel fine. I literally couldn’t care less.” You lied as you pried the cork out of the bottle and drank a good portion before giving it to Nat. “Okay, enough about me, let’s hear about everyone else.”

And that was that. For the next few months Loki kept up his sporadic contact with you but he had a girlfriend and you weren’t about to make an even bigger fool of yourself than you probably already had. So you stopped expecting him to talk to you. Stopped sitting straighter when he walked into a room and stopped being disappointed when he didn’t notice you.

Four months after your girls night with Nat and Wanda there was a Friday night get together with the whole team, Tony’s idea. He said it would be good for bonding. You had gotten the text when you were on your way back from a date. Nothing much, just a casual meet up in Central Park, nothing to write home about. She was fine. A pretty blonde with soft brown eyes and a good laugh but that was it. She was fine. She wasn’t what you were looking for, who you were looking for. As soon as the thought entered your head you promptly shoved it away. He was taken and you just needed to go on a date with someone different that was all.

You looked at your appearance in the elevator mirror on the ride up. You considered changing out of your light blue floral sundress before the gathering with the team but it appeared it wasn’t meant to be as you could already hear voices bleeding through the doors before they opened.

You walked out to a mock whistle from Sam which made you dip into a mock bow before you made your way to the kitchen island and fixed yourself a drink.

“That bad?” Nat smiled as you took a swig of the gin and tonic.

“It was fine.” You replied, shrugging. “I have another tomorrow so we’ll see.”

“Another what?” Thor called from the couch, his hand around a glass of amber liquid that you suspected was something much stronger than scotch.

“Another date!” Nat called out in reply, smiling encouragingly at you.

“Was the one today not satisfactory?” Thor questioned.

You rolled your eyes, “it was Fine. Honestly both of you it was fine.”

“Don’t worry doll, you’re not the only one in the dating game.” Bucky said from the fridge, grabbing himself another beer.

“Bucky, if you’re about to tell me that you and Steve broke up I will believe that love is truly dead.”

“Not us doll.” He shook his head and tried and failed to hide his amusement.

“Then who?” You were very confused and nobody was making things any easier on you.

“Me.” The voice came from behind you and it chilled you to the bone. You turned to find Loki leaning against the wall fixing the cufflinks on his black suit. His demeanor showed a complete lack of interest but the way his emerald eyes held you in place had a predatory grace that both excited and scared you.

Loki had been gone for a month on a diplomatic mission and you had heard nothing from him in the meantime. It had been so easy to put him out of your mind, but now you wondered how you could have thought of anything but him.

“Oh.” Was all you could bring yourself to say. As your heart sped up to a gallop and heat flooded through your body at the way he was looking at you. He shouldn’t be looking at you like that, he had just said he broke up with his girlfriend. You shouldn’t want him to be looking at you like that, you had moved on, hadn’t you? Apparently your body hadn’t gotten the message from your head yet, stupid body.

One hour and two drinks later you were all sitting around the large kitchen table, each absorbed in their own conversations. You were talking to Tony and Bruce and Loki was in a conversation with his brother but he was only half listening. The other part of him kept sneaking glances at you and you could feel his eyes on your body like a physical touch. After you caught his eye one too many times you excused yourself to the bathroom. You needed to get a hold of yourself.

You didn’t need this selective attention bullshit again. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t stand spending hours talking to each other one day only for him to not speak to you for days on end after. No, you looked at yourself in the bathroom mirror and resolved yourself to go back out there and not care. Not to feel his glances on you, not to acknowledge his presence, not to speak to him or play into his games like a fool. Because you weren’t a fool. Pep talk done, you unlocked the door and walked straight into a wall of black.

You startled and tried to push yourself away only to feel slender arms wrap around your waist and legs walk you back into the bathroom. You managed a few paces back and found yourself looking into Loki’s eyes. They really were the most magnificent shade of green. Damnit.

“Loki, what are you doing here?” You asked, still too stunned to wonder why he backed you into the bathroom.

“I’ve been gone for a month and that’s the question you ask me?” He leaned against the door, folded his arms over his chest, and crossed one slender leg over the other. Fuck him for being so attractive right now.

“You don’t get to do that.” You stated, leafing through your emotions until you found one that suited you, anger. You were angry with him for having you on his hook, angry with him for his sense of entitlement, and angry with him for being attractive. To be fair, the last one wasn’t really his fault.

“Do what?” He asked, like he really didn’t know what he was doing.

“You don’t get to go literal months without speaking to me and then demand why I’m not talking to you when you’ve been back all of two hours.”

“Actually I got home last week.” He replied coolly, pushing off of the door and taking a step closer to you. You rebuffed his advance by taking a step backwards.

“Thank you for proving my point to me.”

“What point?”

“Don’t be obtuse.” You chided. “You’ve been home a week now, haven’t sought me out at all in that time mind you, but now you’re upset that I didn’t speak to you?”

“I broke up with Sygn.” He said, taking another step towards you, and you took one back in kind.

“So I’ve heard.”

“I’ve missed you.” He crooned, advancing towards you until your back was forced against the counter top.

“And what, exactly, have you missed?” You replied hotly. “Ignoring me until the last possible moment? Making me look pathetic for wanting even a scrap of your attention?”

He took his thumb and index finger, placed them on your chin, and tilted it up at the same time he lowered his head to your shoulder.

“Come now darling, I don’t think you’re pathetic.” He breathed into the crook of your neck. Your pulse skyrocketed as your breath hitched and you let out a whimper. Your nails dug into the marble counter in an effort to keep from touching him the way you wanted. To keep from running your fingers through his thick black locks.

“Loki, I can’t do this.” You pleaded in a whisper even as his hands came to settle on your waist, even as he lifted you effortlessly onto the counter top and stood squarely between your legs, making your dress ride up to your mid thighs.

“Can’t do what?” He questioned, placing feather light kisses along the column of your throat as his hands moved slowly up your newly exposed thighs.

You tried to steady yourself even as you felt the throbbing need between your legs and his own need pressed against you.

“Being near you is like playing with fire, and pretty soon I’m going to get burned.” You huffed, caught between wanting him to stop and wanting him to continue, oh please God continue.

“Oh pet, haven’t you heard?” He questioned, bringing his lips a hair's breadth away from yours, “I’ve more an affinity for ice.”

#loki x reader #mcu fanfic #loki x you #loki fanfic #does this mean my hiatus is over #maybe #reader insert fanfic #loki mcu

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quietlyimplode · 3 years

Text

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist of Fic Recs - Version 2.0 - Page 1

Page 1 / Page 2 / Page 3 / Page 4 / Page 5

Updated June 2021

This is not an exhaustive list (and in no order whatsoever) of the brilliant fic that is out there. Please let me know of any i have missed or any recs to put in and I will endeavour to add it. I have not included warnings or ratings. Please make sure you look at the tags, judge for yourself and as always take care of yourself first. (17 authors under the cut)

The Irish Mayhem @the-irish-mayhem

White - part of Perfection of Duality Series - the making of Natasha Romanoff. One of my favourite fics in the world. I will love it forever. - 25/25

Perfection of Duality- part two - Natasha - Natasha in shield - 4/?

Mypedia @sebuttstianstan

anything that bleeds - Natasha - Natasha is a sub. Don’t let that fool you, Natasha’s backstory with bdsm elements. 21/22

Shadesfalcon @shadesfalcon

Like Real People Do - Clint/Nat - ‘Do we have song?’ Iterations of what’s the ties that bind them together. 1/1

Whether you ask it or not - Clint/Nat - Natasha gets poisoned - and has the line ‘“’Night, little dragon. May your fires ever burn hot upon your unsuspecting foes.” 1/1

Sometimes winning means you’re the last one standing - ot6+everyone - don’t play ‘never have I ever’ without some laughs and trauma rearing its head 1/1

I am good - Clint/Nat/Laura - Clint brings Natasha home for the first time. 1/1

Careful She Bites - Clint/Nat - don’t confront Natasha about the handcuffs. Just don’t. 2/2

What happens here stays here - Clint/Nat- Natasha can’t remember Budapest. 1/1

Koren M- cybermathwitch

I’d Make Room for you - Clint/Nat/Laura - perspectives of each other are important. 1/1

Course Corrections - Clint/Nat/Laura - taking care of each other 2/2 snippets into conversations/life Course Corrections (Age of Ultron Fix-It Fic)

As if you have a choice - Clint/Nat - Natasha gets pregnant. They know they can’t keep it. 3/3

The weight of us - series of 11 - my fav is ‘Seeing Red’ and ‘Sharp and Sweet’. Clint/Nat shield days

Red Flag Warning - Natasha - red is a warning colour. Clint should know. 1/1

Edgeofthegalaxy @natasha-romanoff-deserved-better

buried in your bones, i see it in your closed eyes - Natasha dissociates and its a long way back Clint/Nat 1/1

Origins - Young Natasha in the red room, of learning morality and goodness. 1/1

But even the strong can fall - Natasha goes silent on a mission, Clint knows something is very wrong. Clint/Nat 2/2

Just a Kid - sometimes Natasha doesn’t realise how messed up her childhood was. Sometimes she needs to be told. Nat/team 1/1

Collateral Damage - Natasha comes home from a mission; Tony needs to patch her up. Tony & Nat 1/1

Daughter of Rohan @natrasharomanova

Living Louder - Clint/Nat - break my heart. Origin stories. 21/21

Beside you (sequel to living louder) - Clint/Nat - shield falls. Clint and Nat find each other in the aftermath.

It’s still raining - Clint/Nat - everything happens when it’s raining. 1/1

You are a piece of me, I wish I didn’t need. Clint/Nat/Laura/family. Clint brings Nat to the farm for the first time. Healing ensues. 1/1

Impossibilities- Clint/Nat but with Pepper/Maria/Darcy and Jane - Natasha is pregnant? 1/1

Wake my spirit Cold - Clint/Nat - Christmas throughout the years - 1/1

(We could be) infinite - Clint/Nat - ENDGAME FIX IT. The soul stone split in two. No one dies. 1/1

I am not the only traveler who has not repaid his debt - Clint/Nat - ENDGAME FIX IT. Natasha dies but is alive in a multiverse. Clint dies in the alternate. They meet in the middle. 1/1

Sugarfey @sugarfey

Chrysalis - Natasha - this is how it goes and how she came to be. Ashes series 1/3

A walk on part in the war. Natasha - Drakovs daughter is ‘saved’. Ashes. 2/3

World on Fire - Clint (/Natasha) Clint has a history and can play the guitar. Ashes 3/3 - my favourite part.

First Name Basis- Clint/Nat - getting to know you. 1/1

Right where I used to be - Clint/Nat - it’s Natasha’s birthday, Clint uses this to get to know her better. 1/1

Once was lost - Clint/Nat - slow burn, Natasha offers herself to him once. 1/1

Expresso is not an option - Nat/Maria - ‘you could destroy shield in a heartbeat, couldn’t you?’

Thursdays Child - Nat/fury - fury mentors Natasha-from afar. 1/1

Shelter - Clint/Nat/liho/lucky - Lucky puts one big paw on Natasha’s knee and looks at her as though she hung the sky with pizza - 1/1

Almost home - Natasha - find a mooring and settles - 1/1

Long spaces 3/3 - Natasha/Clint - natasha and Clint fit together - all the broken pieces. . 3/3

Inkvoices - @inkvoices

Smile for the living - POST ENDGAME - Natasha is brought back. 1/1

In deed- Clint/Bucky/Nat. In which dogs and deeds are discussed. 1/1

Driver chooses the music. Clint/Nat - get in the car.

On Names - Clint/Nat- she goes by many names - 1/1

AlwaysLera

Fallout Patterns - what happens when your mind is a nuclear bomb? Nat/Clint - sex is not always sex when trauma is as deep as hers - 14/14

Breathe me with your hands - Clint/Nat - navigating sex - 1/2 One Red Thread Series- Nats pov.

Hold you by the edges - 2/2 One Red Thread - Clint’s pov.

Ghosts that we knew - Clint/Nat - aftermath of the avengers. Natasha navigating the world when Clint safewords out. 15/?? Unfinished.

How the day sounds - Clint/Nat - thanksgiving throughout the years - 14/15 (?fluffy)

You were a kindness - Clint/Nat - a perfect look at the trauma of being brought in. Let herself be nothing but a branch. Let herself be nothing but stardust. Stardust could not be hurt. Stardust could not be used. Stardust could not be held. 1/1

Crashing, understanding, blinding, tumbling - Nat/Tony - plane crashes - tony takes care of Natasha whilst blinded - 1/1

Two plus two is five - Clint/Nat - how do you test a concussion? Two plus two is five in large quantities of two. 1/1

Into the dark (song fic) - team after harrowing mission watch Clint and Natasha dance - 1/1

The ocean carry you home - team- pepper is pregnant, Natasha doesn’t cope well with the news. Yellow blue bus. 1/1

Enigma731 @enigma731

Something just like this - Clint/Nat - Clint is depressed. Natasha doesn’t know how to help. 1/1

Going to the Chapel. Clint/Nat - get married in Budapest and have sex.

September - Tony/Nat bonding - Tony makes a memory machine to cure ptsd, Natasha helps. 1/1

Everything Costs - Clint/Nat- Natasha keeps getting hurt on missions, Clint wants to know why. 1/1

That’s way you showed me (I wasn’t quite so alone) - Clint/Nat - 3 christmas’ - 1/1

Prompts (some lovely short 1 shorts) - team assorted - 13/?

It starts with Time - Natasha - Natasha goes looking for her family - 1/1

The war I can’t win - Natasha/Clint - Clint gets injured. Natasha is his support. 1/1 (it mentions Occupational Therapy this is a winner)

We are not shining stars - Natasha/Laura + Clint - Clint dies (fair warning) it’s all Natasha can do to cope. 1/1

Unpack your heart - Clint/Nat - in the beginning they left post it notes - 1/1

Hearts and Bones and Blood - Natasha/Clint - Clint saves Natasha from mental health services when she first comes to shield. Because sometimes she gets lost in her own head.

What Girls are Made of - Nat/team - 5x Natasha has unconventional means of flying. 1/1

Ghost Towns - Clint/Nat - Natasha has memories implanted in her head, shield medical and Clint try to help. 1/1

The glass parade - Steve /Natasha - he watches her become different people. 1/1

Slipsthrufingers

Cleanliness Is Next To… - Nat/Clint- Or Five Memorable Showers Clint Barton and Natasha Have Had, and One Time There Was a Bath Instead. - 1/1

The more you know - Clint/Nat - this is what they learn first (or Natasha is not what is written in her file) - 1/1

Perspectives - Nat/team - perspective and interpretations; what do you see?

OracleGlass

safe as houses - Clint/Nat - what makes them go to a nonshield safehouse?

The clutch of circumstance - Clint/Nat- he helps her start. 1/1

Ranni

Voluntary Procedure - Clint and Natasha agree to be mind wiped. The others are not happy - Clint/Nat/Team 6/6

Stronghold - Natasha and Clint shut down their various safehouse. Clint/Nat (team) 1/1

Spy Vs Spy (recced by Anon) - Clint & Coulson & Natasha - Natasha Romanov was the most beautiful person in the room and nobody asked her to dance. 2/2

Paperairplanesopenwindows @paperairplanesopenwindows

On the first day of Christmas - Clint/Nat/Laura- Laura wants to celebrate, Clint and Nat aren’t so sure - 1/1

A little to the left - Clint/Nat/Laura - she’s Natasha but a little to the left (POST ENDGAME) - 4/4

Family Togetherness Time - Clint/Nat/Laura - Steve gets concerned about Nat and turns to the people he thinks can help. 3/3

Eauline

In every lifetime I choose you - Nat/Steve - Natasha gets captured to get to Steve. 11/11

MillyVeil

Burn baby, burn. Clint/Nat - Clint saves Natasha from heatstroke. 1/1

Teamwork - Clint/Nat - fuck or die, Clint’s not ok but Natasha is. He doesn’t understand. - 2/2

Other people - Clint/Nat- she’s up for some monkey sex until she’s not. 2/2

altheterrible @altheterrible

Shining white in the sun - Natasha - Clint dies, Natasha tries to cope. She doesn’t do it very well. 7/7

tastes - team - different tastes in points in time - 1/1

strix_alba

places to go, people to be- Natasha - Natasha gets to decide who she really is after the fall of shield 1/1

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thefallennightmare · 3 years

Text

Vas Prizrak-Seven

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader. Slight Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: 1518

Warnings: swearing, some smut, fluff, lots of angst.

Summary: Bucky and Reader’s life in Wakanda had been everything they ever wanted. But when they are told about the fight that was on it’s way to them, they fear that life would be dusted away for good.

A/N: I’m really hoping I can get another chapter out while my kiddo’s take a nap so fingers crossed!

TAGS: @mggpleasedontlookhere @grey-force-jedi @austynparksandpizza

The ship landed outside of Avenger’s headquarters in New York and as soon as my feet landed on the grass, I was met with a bone crushing hug from Natasha. She pulled away and placed hands on my cheeks, forcing me to look into her eyes.

She looked tired.

“You alright?” Natasha asked.

I nodded. “I’m not going to lie, I’m exhausted.”

Nat wrapped an arm around my shoulder and started leading me towards the compound, leaving Steve to walk slowly behind us.

“I’ve got your room setup with some clothes. Take all the time you want, we can catch you up to speed when you’re ready.”

“Clint tell you about our rendezvous together?” I questioned, the familiar halls bringing a small smile to my face.

She snorted. “It was nothing compared to our time in Budapest together.”

Gently pushing her away, I came to a stop in front of my old room and told Natasha that I would be down in the living area soon. We said goodbye with a quick hug and I was alone, staring at the dark, wooden door. I only lived there for a week but it still held so many bad memories of mourning Bucky that I was nervous to step inside.

After taking a deep breath, I entered the room and couldn’t help the very large smile that spread to my lips at the sight. On the nightstand was a beautiful bouquet of black roses next to an old picture of Bucky and I. My fingers traced over his face before picking up the note.

Buck mentioned that black roses were your favorite. He also made me promise him that I would look after you if anything did happen to him. I have failed the last five years but I promise that I will make up for it by bringing Bucky back home to you.

Xx Steve

“You knew I was going to come back with you?” I questioned the body that stood in the doorway behind me.

I didn’t have to turn around to see that Steve was leaning against the doorway, watching me with intent eyes.

“I knew that you would do anything to get him back, even if it meant seeing me again,” Steve admitted.

Finally turning to face him, I gave him a confused look. “Do you think I hate you?”

Steve shrugged and my heart dropped.

“I never hated you, Steve. Five years ago when Thanos destroyed the stones, I felt like there was nothing left to live for. My life had no meaning so I took my anger out on the people I loved other than Bucky,” I admitted.

“You know,” Steve started as we walked into the room and sat on the bed next to me, “I spent the last five years telling people that they have to move on but I can’t find it in myself too.”

He pulled out a familiar compass from his pocket and once he opened it, I saw an old picture of someone that he never talked about in front of me.

Peggy Carter.

I knew about his past with her back in the 40’s and knew that he loved her but I didn’t know that he was still in love with her.

“From what you told me about her, she seemed like a lovely woman,” I said.

Steve nodded. “She was. I only wish that I had more time with her. We never got our dance.”

I placed my hand on his thigh, giving it a loving squeeze. Our eyes locked for a brief moment and feeling the tension between us, I threw a thumb over my shoulder towards my bathroom.

“Uh, I really should shower before the team meeting.”

Steve reluctantly nodded and stood from the bed. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

When I was alone yet again, I forced my tired muscles from the bed and to the shower, hot water calling my name. My suit peeled away like a second skin as I stepped out of it, tossing it to the floor. The bruises and old scars from the last five years shone bright in reflection of the mirror, my eyes refusing to look any longer. I then looked at the ink on my left arm, the tattoo mirroring Bucky’s old arm; the one he had when he was The Winter Soldier.

You’re starting to look like me with the tattoo and mask.

The familiar voice brought a soft smile to my face as I worked the shampoo deep into my long hair. The redness of my hair was still bright as the first day my powers changed it back in Romania, me even trying to die it a couple years ago, only having it turn red again the next day.

I love your rose shampoo. The scent always stained my pillow case.

“God, I miss you,” I muttered to the voice.

My tears had mixed with the water from the shower head, unsure how hard I was actually crying until my loud sobs were heard echoing off the tiled walls of the bathroom. For the first time in five years, I allowed myself to mourn Bucky, the sobs racking my body, causing me to fall to my knees in the shower.

“I need you, Bucky. I don’t think I can handle it if this doesn't work,” I sobbed.

Dorogaya, don’t mourn me. I’m still here, watching over you.

“It’s not fair, you should be here with me.”

I love you, Y/N.

A soft knock on my room's door caused me to immediately stand, wiping the tears from my face, and turning off the shower. Once the towel was tightly wrapped around myself, I padded barefoot over to the door.

“Yes?”

“Are you alright? I heard you crying.”

Steve.

Damn his super soldier hearing.

“I’m fine,” I yelled through the door. “I just need to get dressed then I’ll be down stairs.”

Once I was dressed, I opened the door and almost ran into the hard chest that still stood in the doorway.

“Fuck, Steve. You scared me!” I curse, stepping back from him.

“Are you okay?” He questioned again.

His soft gaze told me that he was truly worried about me so I gave him a reassuring nod.

“I’m okay now. Want to walk with me?”

Steve nodded and we started to walk side by side down to the living room of the compound, where everyone was waiting to give me the rundown of the plan. Steve hadn’t mentioned anything about it to me on the way here since I had opted for taking a much needed nap.

“New tattoo?” Steve motioned to my arm.

“Uh, yeah. Let’s say that it was a dark time in my life.” I admitted.

A soft chuckle fell from Steve’s lips and we stepped onto the elevator, riding it down a few floors in a comfortable silence.

“Wait, say it again. My brain is having some trouble processing what you just said,” I spoke to Scott Lang.

He sighed. “Basically it’s time travel.”

I scoffed before looking between Steve and Natasha. “This is the big plan? Fucking time travel?”

“It’s going to work, Y/N,” Nat said.

My head shook with doubt as I leaned deeper into the couch, looking around the room at the faces I hadn’t seen in so long.

Tony had a family now, him and Pepper having a daughter.

Bruce had decided to live a life as the Hulk and Bruce Banner together. It was weird to look at first but eventually as time went on during the meeting, I got used to it.

Thor, on the other hand, had looked worse than all of us. He had taken the loss to Thanos harder than some of us, choosing to numb his pain with alcohol and letting himself go.

Clint sat next to me on the couch and he averted my attention from everyone else to him with a pat on my knee.

“I’m still pissed at you for telling them where I was,” I semi-joked.

He gave me a small laugh. “I know it sounds stupid but we have to try. For them.”

We had become incredibly close in the time we went on our killing spree before we parted ways and considered him a good friend of mine so if he had some hope for this plan, the least I could do was to try.

“Okay,” I nodded then turned my attention towards Steve. “How do we know it’s going to work?”

“One of us will go back to a point in time. They’ll only get five minutes before we bring them back.” Steve stated.

“So a test run?” I asked.

Scott nodded. “Exactly, a test run. Now we have to decide who.”

“I’ll do it,” I stood without a second thought.

Dorogaya, no.

“Not happening, Y/N.” Steve shook his head.

I crossed my arms while looking at him, putting all the weight to my left foot. The voice in my head and Steve would not be able to change my decision.

“Steve, you’ve known me for so long, you really expect to change my mind?”

He sighed, defeated.

“Let’s get you suited up then.”

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes and reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes angst #james buchanan barnes #james barnes #james buchanan barnes x reader #james barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #captain america #captain america x reader #the winter solider x reader #soldat #dorogaya

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orionlakehastodie · 3 years

Text

Caspian, Jason and Showers

A Bensie NSFW Fic

Inspired by the following cute things I picked up on interviews:

1.Jessie had a Prince Caspian poster on her wall as a kid

2.Ben knows Jessie's mum calls her Jason

WARNINGS: Bit of Dom! Ben

Jessie didn't want to say that she had a big crush on Ben as a thirteen year old when Prince Caspian came out because that would mean admitting that her first orgasm was humping her pillow imagining she was humping him.

She had gotten over the crush, was 100% sure that she was over it, so when he walked into a room, and smiled at her and she got so, so wet immediately after she knew she was fucked.

So is it any wonder that he's now here, in her childhood home, spending Christmas with her mum shirtless on her bed?

They agreed to not have sex, not while her parents and her brother are in the same house, but seeing Ben interact with her mum and help her dad carve the turkey and listen with apt interest with her brother's mundane prep school life just turned her on so much.

He was such marriage material her pre-historic hind brain is screaming at her womb to get filled by this beautiful man who laughed so loudly and so genuinely and made her family love him.

For goodness sake, she thought, smiling down at him as his dopey smile appeared as she pulled off her shirt revealing her ratty but comfortable sports bra.

"I love you." His eyes dart up to her at that point in time, and that was a feat in and of itself because Ben loves her tits, and he opens his arms wide and she falls into his chest with a laugh and snuggles against her most favorite place in the world - his neck.

His arms tighten around her and he peppers the top of her head with kisses.

"And I." Kiss. "Love." Kiss. "You." Kiss. "Jason". She laughs as Ben blows into her ear at the last word and trails a hand down to pat affectionately at her bum.

She playfully twists his nipple at the jest and he laughs, that wonderful heartfelt, tinkling laugh of his - and she realizes since meeting Ben, all her days were filled with laughter and sunshine.

"If you ever call me Jason while we're making love I'm going to dump you. I don't want to remember my mum when you're balls deep in me."

His hands start to knead at her bum now, covered only by her reindeer themed pajama shorts, his fingers trailing closer to the edge of the cloth.

"Oh my you were not joking about the Caspian poster. It's right over your bed."

She feels heat crawl up her cheeks as she lifts her head from his neck and turns to see his poster, in a perfect view of the bed. From this point it looks like he was looking right at you.

"Yeah... well..."

He picks up on her tone, because Ben knows her so well and his eyebrows cock up. "Jason. Naughty little Jason."

"Don't even- Ben!"

He rears up and flips them over, slotting his hips in between hers, his semi rubbing against her core.

"Jason, did you or did you not, fuck yourself on this bed while thinking of me?"

She shoves at his chest, blush spreading down to her chest. "Oh this is so embarrassing."

Ben laughs and takes Jessie's hand, kissing all her fingers before quickly tugging on the waistband of her shorts and slipping it down. She was bare underneath, her thighs sticky from her arousal.

Ben's eyes darken as she lay in her childhood bed, in nothing but her ratty sports bra, with his poster on the wall.

"Such a beautiful pussy." His fingers reach out to tap at her clit, once, twice, and she bites back a moan.

"I can't be quiet Ben."

It was true. One time on set Archie passed out on the spare bedroom in Ben's apartment in Budapest and when morning came he glared at the both of them for keeping him up until 4 in the morning on a 7:30 call time.

Sex with Ben can never be a quiet experience. He was too big, and long. And he knew just where to thrust to make her come. And she would come until her mind was numb and all she knew was the feel of his cock spurting inside her, filling her.

"It's okay. I won't fuck you. I want you to show me. Show me how you fucked yourself to a picture of me."

He takes her hands again, guiding them to her core.

Shit. That was so hot. And he smiles at her again, that lethal smug Ben smile as her breathing picked up and he slipped his own hands inside his boxers to pull out his thick cock.

She rubbed at her clit hard as he traced a thumb through his glans, spreading the precum.

Her eyes go to his face, but his eyes are trained on her pussy.

"Spread those lips for me, fuck. Show me that pussy. Jessie, love, fuck."

Ben never gets like this, but fuck if he wasn't so hot right now.

She takes both hands and spreads her lips apart, feeling her arousal spill from her tiny hole and trail down her ass.

"Fuck." Ben's voice growls as he reaches with a finger to catch the slick dripping between her pussy and her ass and brings it to his mouth.

"Fingers, inside you now. Two. Spread yourself please darling.

She was panting now, definitely panting as she inserted two fingers inside her and watched as Ben gripped his cock tightly.

"Ben. Oh God, Ben."

Her other hand rubbed frantically at her clit, she was so close, so close.

"Did you say my name? Did you say my name Jessie, when you made yourself cum to me?"

"Yes. Oh yes."

"Tell me. Tell me what you thought I'd do."

She was so close. So close she was in that place where pleasure and pain blurred

"Ben please."

"Tell me. Tell me and I'll do it to you sweetheart, tell me."

"Fuck I imagined your cock. I imagined you slamming into me. Filling me. I... I imagined you sucking at my tits."

He growls and she feels the bed dip as he shoves her sports bra up and out of the way fingers pinching at a nipple. He pulls her hand from inside her cunt and she almost cries the peak so near, when he replaces it with his cock.

"Oh fu-"

He swallows her scream with his mouth, as shoves his cock inside her, in one smooth pass, assisted by her copious slick and notches right under her cervix.

Her back arches as his balls slap against her ass.

"FUck you're so tight, so wet, Jessie, look, look at how my cock fills you. You take it so well. So well."

She can see an imprint of his cock pop up in her tummy with every deep thrust. He has never been this deep in her before, never this hard, this big, and she was so near to the edge that it only took one flick of her clit to drive her over, her legs shaking around him, as she came.

She frantically seeks his mouth the scream building in her throat as he switches angles and hits her right there again, and again, and again until she's cumming again. Legs frantically trying to close, but Ben's hands are spreading them, lifting her shaking and all but biting her tongue to not moan out loud and pumping into her at a fast pace.

"Ben!" She opens her eyes, sees him focused on how her pussy swallows his cock. "Ben, I can't anymore. It's too much."

"One more. Just one more. You can come one more time for me."

His hands rub at her clit, his head ducks down to suckle at her breast and then she turns her head and catches sight of his poster and the sensations were all too much and she explodes, pussy spasming so tight she pushes his cock out and liquid spurting out of her like a geyser.

Ben holds stock still, mouth dropping, as his eyes, so dark now meet hers.

"Did you just squirt?"

She has no words, unable to catch her breath with her pussy still spasming so hard.

"Did your just fucking squirt? Fuck you're so hot, bloody fuck."

His hands paw at her batting her legs open and he licks traces of her liquid at her pussy and she shoves his head away, too sensitive for the assault of his tongue but Ben is relentless and she comes again and squirts for him.

"Ben, Jesus... I can't-"

But her words die in her throat as his cock plunges into her again. Moving at a reckless pace, not even pulling out, just grinding into her as he buries to the hilt.

"I'm going to fill you. I'm going to fulfill your every fantast."

She wraps her legs around his hips, helping him piston into her, and her hands grab at his ass.

"Come then. Come inside me Ben, please."

He thrusts once, and spurts in her, and she feels it deep inside her, so hot, so much, filling her insides.

He collapses on top of her, mouthing at her breast as he catches his breath.

Her fingers bury in his hair as she tries to at last catch her breath.

"I should..." Her voice comes out in a croak, and he laughs and she swats at his ass playfully.

"I will put up a poster of Caspian in our apartment. If it makes you into this sex God I'll even paper our apartment with Caspian."

He was becoming sleepy she can feel him grow heavier on top of her.

"Have you ever... come like that before?"

"Never. And don't you be smug about it Benjamin Thomas."

He grunts and rolls over, his cock slipping out of her, causing their mixed juices to spill out of her.

"I should clean you... but... so warm."

He settles her on his chest, hands rubbing soothing circles on her back and soon she too, feels the lure of sleep.

"I love you, Jessie."

She smiles, settling his cheek over his still racing heart. "I love you too."

#ben barnes #jessie mei li #bensie #darklina #i am a clown #i need to know when ben met jessie's mum and heard her call jessie jason #jessie's dad also knows ben #i need answers

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youngerdrgrey · 3 years

Text

better me than him (you know, sisters) // a Black Widow fic

About: SPOILERS FOR BLACK WIDOW (2021) // Yelena says, “Even as a Widow, all the girls looked up to what you could do. I would tell them, ‘Natasha is my sister. Natasha is coming back for me. Natasha—’” Yelena spits at the ground. Her despair and her rage overtake her face, and her nose could scrape the clouds, she turns it up so high.

or, an alternate scene for Black Widow, where Natasha talks to Yelena after the kitchen table breakdown instead of Alexei. + read on ao3

Yelena shirks out of Milena’s touch. She snatches up the vodka from the table and turns for the bedroom. Natasha struggles to find the words to respond to her. Some kind of explanation for disappearing, or some way to take back what she said about the reality of their mission together. But it was a mission. It had to be.

“Yelena.”

Yelena doesn’t break her stride. “No.” The door clicks shut behind her. Tense air makes breathing harder. Natasha parts her lips for a bit of extra oxygen. Zones out and misses the moments where Alexei and Milena exchange words. When Alexei goes to move though, Natasha lifts a hand to stop him.

“I’ll go.” At least then Yelena can’t say Natasha never did anything for her. Yelena probably doesn’t remember that Natasha had held a gun to the soldiers who tried to take Yelena away. What does that matter when Natasha failed, right? Without another word, Natasha goes after Yelena into the guest bedroom.

Yelena’s already on the floor with the bottle of vodka in her hands. Her knees bent up to her chest, her elbows just barely on top of them — she looks so small. Defiant. Natasha closes the door behind her.

Yelena looks too tired to glare. “I came in here because I didn’t want to talk.”

Natasha calls, “Bullshit. All you’ve done since we met up is talk. Talk about feelings and futures and our pasts.” She can’t quite tell if her voice sounds disparaging or wistful. Lonely or yearning for whatever part of Yelena still thinks they could be a family.

“We have a lot of time to make up for,” Yelena snaps back. “Or we would, if any of it were real.”

Natasha takes a sharp breath in. “Come on. I do not want to sit here, holding your hand when there are other Widows out there who need us. Drekhov is still alive and ruining their world.”

Yelena gestures to the door with her vodka bottle. “Go then. It’s what you do best.” She won’t look right at Natasha’s eyes. She glares at her forehead, or her chin. At the walls that Milena has looked at for who knows how long instead of looking for either of them. “You left me. You left the Widows. You even left the Avengers to hide out in the middle of nowhere in a camper with a barely functioning generator. You called Mom Milena a coward. But all you do is run and kill and hide from anybody who tries to care about you.”

“And you care about me?” Natasha doubts that. Why would Yelena still care? Yelena was six the last time they really saw each other. Sure, they crossed paths a few times on missions, but the Red Room took great care to make sure they wouldn’t fall back into old patterns. “Because of some assignment?”

Yelena screams, “Because you were my sister! You-you were someone to look up to! Even as a Widow, all the girls looked up to what you could do. I would tell them, ‘Natasha is my sister. Natasha is coming back for me. Natasha—’” Yelena spits at the ground. Her despair and her rage overtake her face, and her nose could scrape the clouds, she turns it up so high. “They told me again and again that Widows are not a family. But I beat your records, and I thought, ‘One day, she will call me on beating her. She will want a rematch. She will want….’”

“You.” Natasha finishes in a whisper. Yelena grinds her teeth and sends her gaze back down to the vodka bottle. “Even if I did want to know you, that’s not how things are done.”

Yelena takes a swig. “You broke your Accords like a week after signing them. Rules are nothing to you. If you want to lie to yourself to make yourself feel better, then go ahead. But do not lie to me like I am a child. I stopped being one the moment you let them take me.”

“I was a child too, Yelena. Dad—” Natasha cringes at the slip. “Alexei knocked us both out. You can’t keep holding onto this.”

“Tell me what I should hold onto then. Hmm?” Her lips curl into a sad snarl. “I have a vest and some memories of-of handstands in the dirt and chasing after your bike because I was too little to have my own.”

“You crashed your own,” Natasha corrects. “We found it before we were supposed to. I tried to teach you how to ride, and you slammed into the garage door. Woke them both up.”

“Great, another wrong memory.” Yelena shakes her head. “It could have been you.” Yelena snorts like the pigs. A sad, strangled sob follows.

Natasha gives Yelena her privacy and averts her eyes. Maybe that’s the cowardly choice here too. Shield herself from Yelena’s emotions. Pretend that… pretend that none of this hurts her too.

Natasha’s not the one who gives the big speeches. That’s Steve’s department. He stands there with his broad shoulders and his bright eyes, and he talks like he’s still that scrawny kid who couldn’t back down from a fight. But he understands what it feels like to be out of place. He made her feel less alone. He made her feel like she was actually helping people. She was an Avenger. Or, like Yelena said, ‘the trained killer little girls call their hero.’

“Do you remember when I first dyed my hair? Probably not. You were, like, four.” Natasha chuckles, and she wonders for the first time if Milena and Alexei are listening in. She walks over to sit beside Yelena. “Milena did it as a science experiment. We used kool-aid to temporarily dye my hair blue, and you got so scared that the blue on your tongue from drinking it would never go away. So I drank a bunch to turn my tongue, and so did Milena. By the time Alexei got home, my whole head was bright blue, and so were our lips and a little bit of your nose.”

The memory makes Natasha laugh, and when she chances a glance across her shoulder at Yelena, she can see the deep knit of the younger spy’s eyebrows. Yelena doesn’t remember, does she? Doesn’t know about some of the little days that made all the other ones that much more bearable.

Natasha clears her throat. “After Budapest, I had my own life again. And I wish I could say that I felt free. But I felt exactly like I did in Ohio. Like someone was waiting to rip me back out of what little peace I could find. So, I did the only thing that I could think to do. I went to the store and bought a jar of peanut butter, a loaf of bread, and a shit ton of blue kool-aid. And I dyed my hair in the S.H.I.E.L.D safe house into the grossest shade of purple that I have ever seen in my life. Clint has pictures somewhere, I’m sure. They’re….” Embarrassing is a word, but they’re the first look at her trying to take her life back.

She’d thought about getting a tattoo back then. She’d gone to a parlor and had flipped through the books of available designs for an hour. Clint had waited with her, making smart ass comments about placement and goading her into making a decision. His personal favorite had been an arrow that he swore would look amazing on the side of her neck. But those permanent changes didn’t feel like her. Not like recreating the memory did.

“I have no idea what they made you do, or what they took from you. We’re going to get the others out, and then you can do whatever you want, Yelena. You never have to talk to me, or Milena, or Alexei again. You can make your own family. Make some new memories. Those days in Ohio, they don’t have to be your best ones.”

Yelena’s lip trembles. She pouts around the emotion. “What if….” She exhales slow, and even that shakes. “What if I wanted that? The… ‘Don’t slouch,’ and the embarrassing parents.”

Natasha lets her voice drop into its raspiest. “They are pretty embarrassing.”

“She raises pigs. Who does that?” Yelena laughs.

Natasha blinks her red-rimmed eyes and nudges her shoulder into Yelena’s. “You and your vest, you fit right in.”

“Don’t be jealous. I could show you where I got it. Make a day of it maybe.” Yelena’s watery eyes find Natasha’s, and they’re so damn hopeful. They ask what Yelena won’t. What if Yelena wants Natasha too? What if they could be sisters again?

Natasha reaches for the vodka bottle, and Yelena hands it to her without question. “Maybe. Once we stop Drekhov.”

“And you get the others,” Yelena adds. “The witch needs new clothes. She looks like a tourist.”

Natasha snorts. “I’ll be sure to give Wanda your fashion advice once she’s off the raft.” They might get along actually. Both younger women, lost a lot as kids, used as violent weapons, but now they’ve got a second chance. It wouldn’t be the worst thing if Yelena tagged along. She’d make a few bad jokes. Get Steve to laugh whenever he comes out of hiding. God, if they ever make up with Tony, he would have a field day at finding out Natasha has a sister. “Do a good job on this mission, and maybe I’ll let you meet them. No autographs though.”

Yelena shoves Natasha’s leg. “I don’t want autographs from your friends.” She pauses to reconsider. “Hm, maybe Captain America. Alexei would shit himself.”

“Did you hear him in the bathroom earlier? He probably already did.”

Yelena groans, and the only thing sweeter than the laughter to follow is the small smile she gives to Natasha. Like maybe there’s still something in Natasha worth looking up to.

“Hey,” Natasha’s voice comes out more serious than she intends it to. Yelena lifts an eyebrow as she waits. “You were always the best of us, you know that?”

The words make Yelena’s lip tremble again. Her nose pitches up, and she sniffles before putting on her best Widow smirk. “That’s why I beat all your records.”

Natasha rolls her eyes. “Сука.”

Yelena pushes herself up from the floor. “I’m not a bitch.” She reaches her hand out to pull Natasha up. Natasha accepts the assist.

“You’re a brat; that’s what you are.” Natasha leads the way back out of the bedroom.

“What are little sisters for?”

Hope. Not that Natasha would admit that part. Way too sentimental, way too honest. She sticks her tongue out instead. Yelena understands though. It’s what they do. Or at least, what they could do, if they keep showing up instead of running away.

"Tell me when you figure it out, okay?"

notes: Natasha is her (foster, mission) mother's daughter, in more ways than one, and Yelena should say it.

I also want to thank you all for the very warm reception to my other Black Widow fic. I have at least one more in the chamber. You are welcome to send in requests, and if any speak to me, I will do my best to write them. Mostly, I just care about this family a lot. Go figure. Let's talk about them. Or anything else in replies/reblogs/asks.

#black widow #black widow spoilers #natasha romanoff #yelena belova #black widow fic #mine #mcu #mcu fic #mcu: mine #black widow (2021)#yelena black widow

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redbirdbella · 3 years

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@thoughtfulmilkshakeface Requested “Clintasha Cuddles” thank you lovely, here they are: (My requests are open if anyone has any requests)

Clint is staying the night at Natasha’s again. Platonically, of course. But that doesn’t change the fact he’s staying at Natasha’s again, at some point his excuses of forgetting to pay the electricity bill or the draw of her working DRV are going to wear thin. However, that is future Clint Barton’s problem, nothing the one who’s wrapped up in Natasha’s sofa throw should be worrying about. He should just continue to munch his way through the grapes he’d found in Natasha’s fridge. Purple, his favourites.

“Dog cops again?” His partner crows from her vantage point, across from the recuperating archer. Apparently, corner sofa had been selected as much for its tactical uses as its beauty.

“Yes, it ended on such a cliff-hanger. I need to see if Rogue earns her Badge”

The Russian sighs, “Your impossible”

“And you’re the idiot who recorded it for me. You knew what you were getting in to”

“Was going to watch it and tell you spoilers” She mutters returning to her book.

“Then call this karma.”

Natasha choses not to dignify that with a response. Karma isn’t something she can bring herself to believe in, not in her line of work. Despite Clints persistence. She could half-heartedly compromise with Clints karma though, silly and petty, like some enchanted creature in half remember fairy-tales of her childhood.

Karma be damned. She’d put her newly acquired houseguest to some sort of use. Nudging her cold, worn feet towards her partner, trying by some miracle to not get away with sneaking them under his body to drain the heat from his tired muscles.

But Miracles never happen for Natasha Romanoff and soon she finds her feet enclosed tightly in strong hands.

"Ut-uh ice Queen, you know the drill, get your ass down here. I'm not catching frost-bite from your feet again"

Its undignifying, his hands are warm and rough and ever so slightly sticky with what’s left of the grapes.

“Come on Tash” He begins to pull her closer, giving her just enough time to save her page leaning her book against a pillow. He wraps the throw around her engulfing her in its warmth before pushing the grapes away making room to draw her close.

“Melting yet Ice Queen?” he whispers when she finally relaxes against him.

She raises her head from where it had drooped against his shoulder and hums agreement, “Climate Change has been a real bitch”

Its not really a joke but its enough to draw out the smile that might just thaw the rest of her. At what point did she allow him to worm his way to her heart. When did she start to make space in her own home, in herself, for him. Somewhere between Budapest and these long evenings together, her house became his.

Not that she minds. Not her magical half-empty fridges or the dog cops theme stuck in her head for days. Not any of it. Especially if he’s going to gently strum her back and let her bury her feet somewhere warm and not just demand she just wear socks.

He shuffles pulling her closer performing effortless gymnastics to free the remote and soon enough the dog cops theme tune is humming through the apartment and lodging into Natasha’s brain.

“Ughhh again really!?”

#clintasha #clint barton #natasha romanoff #requests #my fic

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sneezy-cheeseloaf · 3 years

Text

recounting the entire avengers: endgame movie, which i only saw once when it came out, from memory

because i just took the SAT and i want to do anything except think about that so get ready for a fun ride full of holes and my reenactments of scenes and quotes that i remember from however many years it’s been now since endgame came out. buckle the fuckle up

movie opens, clint’s whole ass family fucking dies. cue killing spree fueled by grief and anger. HashTag Relatable

tony is floating through space with nebula and teaching her how to play paper football

holy shit is this how tony dies

“pep” ouc h

oh hey he’s home, dope

The Gang (tm) learns where thanos’s farm is somehow i can’t really remember

“perhaps i judged you too harshly”

“???? thor????” “what? i went for the head”

“five” five what?? days?? weeks??? months???? oh boy i can’t wait to find ou- “years later” HUH???????

steve looks the exact same, so i guess he kept up that workout schedule even through the snap. i mean good for him honestly

and is also running a talk therapy group like sam did

a single smidgen of gay representation but it’s a good start ig

i don’t really remember what everyone else was doing, i just know that tony and pep have morgan now but idk if that gets revealed now or later

the only reason we had a movie is because of a rat. everyone say thank you to Rat for releasing scott lang, please. round of applause

scott’s daughter is all grown up and catch me sobbing over the fact that he wasn’t there to see it

somewhere in here nat is crying and eating a sandwich and honestly girl same

“hey!!! it’s me!!!! scott lang!!! ant man???? also what the hell happened???? lemme IN”

cue scott lang having a single brain cell and bringing up time travel. i think it was him that proposed the idea. maybe not. but imma give him credit

oh yeah bruce and hulk are besties now and bruce is just permanently Like That

and cue everyone being shook at the idea of time travel

time to go see Science Man at his house on the lake

“i wish you had come for anything else.” ouch

gang leaves dejectedly

peter. that’s it. and suddenly tony is all hands on deck

cue science mumbo jumbo in the middle of the night while he eats something out of a bag that i can’t remember

“shit!!” “sHiT!!!” “NO”

“i love you 3000″

Science Man reveals that he has, indeed cracked the code to literal time travel

cue nat, the only person with an umbrella, going to find clint who is busy with murder, as he does

“don’t do that. don’t give me home” stfu budapest man and get in the car.

thor has. enlargened. and is now playing fortnight with korg as a means to cope with what happened plus losing loki, as i think we all would

The Gang is back together and working (surprisingly) coordinately and throwing ideas around and it’s actually very cute. and it makes my heart very happy. and i want to cry every time i think about it because we all know what comes next

scott’s taco gets blown away. bruce gives him another. all is well in the world

and in this exhibit we see the only brain cell in the whole group, which is being used by rhodey at all times

“why don’t we just,,,, (choking motion)” “to a BABY???”

during the time tests someone gets reverted to a baby but i don’t remember who and it’s highkey disturbing

“i consider this an absolute win!!”

cue slo mo walk with the cool white time suits that everyone looks so good in

“see you in a minute” that smile. she looks so happy. sobbing

i think it’s in here that all the color go through steve’s eyes, so let’s just take a minute to acknowledge how pretty he is

“just for the record, that suit did nothing for your ass.” “i don’t remember asking you to look”

“that’s america’s ass.” yes it is scott you’re absolutely right

“i cOuLd dO tHiS aLL dAy” “yeah i knoOoOW”

time for tony to give tony a heart attack and then just stare in what i can only assume is amusement. i’m pretty sure that comes after america’s ass but maybe not

somewhere in here steve is just staring at peggy through blinds and it’s sad when you see it but when you think about it afterwards, it’s so funny for no reason

time to get whacked by a very angry hulk who was not allowed to use the elevator

“NO STAIRS”

tony goes flying. so does the tesseract. loki, in handcuffs, is like “oh bet this is mine now” and. Leaves.

i’m pretty sure it’s bruce who goes and gets schooled by The Ancient One on the multiverse, and i say it’s bruce because i think he’s the only one out of The Gang who could ever actually wrap his head around it

i don’t remember exactly how they get the tesseract but they do

thor and rocket are in asgard and thor has a panic attack, as I think we all would if we had to talk to our dead mother and pretend like we don't know what's going to happen

and remember kids, slapping someone is not the way to handle a panic attack. anyways

a mother always knows

"i'm still worthy!!!!" you always were, thor. you never stopped being worthy

and we have our hammer back

cue sobbing on vormir

“clint. it’s ok. it’s ok.” that smile.

nat’s fucking dead and i’m fucking dead inside let’s keep this party goin

other stones are recovered and i don’t really remember how but hey we got all six

“where’s nat?” cue more sobbing from me and from clint as you can see each and every team member’s heart drop to the fucking floor. especially steve

yeah maybe we’re doing this for half the universe and all the people we lost, but mostly for nat now

tony’s makeshift infinity gauntlet has entered the chat

Green Man is the only one who can physically take the power of the stones, so the fate of literally everything they have ever done up to this point is on him

snap rest in peace bruce’s arm

cue every single person in the theater holding their breath

“guys. it worked.”

cue explosion as their facility gets bombed and i am terrified that it has killed the entire gang

but it obviously has not and i am once again a Class A Idiot

i can't remember if it’s steve or tony who wakes up first but one shakes the other awake and is like “get the fuck up bitch idk what just happened but we got a problem”

everyone is mostly fine. but they’re all alive and that’s what matters

and now we have the setting for the entire rest of the movie basically

oh hey thanos. that’s uh. that’s a big army you got there

i don’t really remember everything that happened with The Past thanos, gamora, and nebula but i remember that gamora once again sees what a twat her adoptive father is and is like “oh hell na”

cue the gang fighting for their lives against Past thanos. literally

oh shit thor’s about to be killed????

OH MY GOD HE HAS THE HAMMER

cue the theater screaming as they should

hell yeah. bonk that giant space grape with the god of thunder’s hammer. you go steve. and look like a badass doing it as you should

shit’s still fucked and they eventually get their asses handed to them one by one

somewhere in here the shield breaks just like we saw in age of ultron. and like damn bro i liked that thing

steve stands up by himself because bitch. you cant kill him unless he says so. he dies on his own terms. he didn’t live for over a fucking century to die like this

our mans is standing up against a whole ass army knowing full well that he can’t win but damn if he aint ready to try

“ok listen strange. you have to open the portal to his left. his LEFT. you hear me???”

“steve. STEVE. on your left.”

cue the most goosebump-inducing scene that i have ever seen and probably will ever see. i would do anything to see that scene for the first time again. that feeling was like nothing i’ve ever experienced

the amazing symphonics are NOT helping my already-about-to-explode-from-excitement heart

now the gang’s ALL here. and we all cry because all of our peeps are back from the dead and we all missed them and highkey grieved for them after infinity war

i can’t remember if steve actually sees bucky yet but i think he does and i wanted to cry on the spot because not only did i miss bucky but man did i just want them to see each other again

cue sick pan of the whole ass marvel roster like smash ultimate, including howard duck somewhere in there

PETER OUR BOY SWINGIN ON IN

“AVENGERS. assemble.” “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”

but we all know damn well that not a single person could hear him whisper that shit. like steve bro speak up a little

and the battle for the ages commences

we get to see all our favorite boys are girls fuck shit up and it’s absolutely incredible. wow it really feels like someone’s missing who could that be.

this is now a very elaborate game of keepaway

“catch” “Catch” “CATCH “CATCH”

“hey queens” he remembered. catch me cryin

“hey peter. got somethin for me?” god i love her. flew through a whole ass spaceship. no stoppin her

t'challa remembers clint's name. he did care

oh yeah scott is fucking humongous again, but third time’s the charm ig. maybe he won't pass the fuck out this time

somewhere in here, strange starts holding like. an entire ocean back and i dont really remember where it came from

we get a whole segment of marvel women kicking ass and taking names and i think i just need to take a minute. WE collectively need to take a minute

carol flies straight through a spaceship and everyone is like ???? hello????? where have you been?????????

carol gets literally headbutted by thanos and doesnt move a fucking inch. and that look of murder in her eyes. she could tell me to walk into a pit of lava and i would not question it. the power

“launch the missiles!!!” “but sir, our army-” “DO IT”

damn thanos our expectations for you were low but holy fuck

somewhere in here i think petter quill sees Past gamora and is like gamora???? and she like kicks him in the balls or somethin and is like “this is the ones i picked?????”

the fight continues and honestly a lot of it’s a blur but damn was it not the coolest thing i’ve ever seen.

cue strange knowing exactly how this was gonna go down, and holding up a single finger

i dont think ive ever seen that look on tony's face before

oh shit thanos has the gauntlet and all the stones. fuck.

wait holdup that gauntlet looks a little funky

WAIT HOLDUP

“i am inevitable”

“and i. am iron man.”

the theater, once again holds its breath

all is lowkey calm and everyone is shook

thanos’s entire army slowly fades away. including one of those big worm things that almost eats (i think it was) rocket but like. dusts right as it hits the ground and is a really cool shot

and thanos sits down on a rock. and finally is gone. and it's so cathartic

oh joyous day!! they’ve won!! they’ve done it!!! wait holdup where’s tony. i remember what happened to bruce where the fuck is tony

wait

wait hold on

wait hold on a minute

“we did it. we won, mr stark. we won. please, mr stark”

“pep.”

“it’s ok. you can rest. you can rest.”

i have officially passed away and am a sobbing mess. you can’t do this to me. he’s gonna come back. there’s no way. tony stark doesn’t die. no.

this is a fucking funeral. i am going to combust into tears

“proof that tony stark has a heart”

i just wanted him to be able to see morgan grow up.

but him and nat are eating shawarma together in the sky now.

“i’m recording this in case something goes wrong, which it won’t.”

“i love you 3000.”

oh we’re still rolling. oh we don’t even get a minute to process

steve is leaving??? wait holdup we cant lose both. no

“are you sure about this?” “i have to”

“i’m with you til the end of the line” so that was a fucking lie

but steve deserves to do what makes him happy. so i can’t be too mad. actually, nah i aint even mad i’m just sad

bucky looks so dejected. so sad. someone please give him a hug. he desperately needs it

oh hey steve. but you’re old now. hey then, grandpa. how did you. get there

buck and sam go talk to him as they should

“you wanna talk about her?” “no, i don’t think i will”

“how does it feel?” “like it belongs to someone else”

sam has officially inhered the shield, and by extension, his very own bucky barnes. it’s a packaged deal

clint’s got his family back. and they can finally finish their picnic or whatever they were doing at the beginning of the movies

and steve finally got that dance. finally. and he looks so happy. so content.

and that’s about all i remember

i have not watched endgame since i saw it in theaters when it came out because i absolutely do not have the emotional stability to do it again. but damn the disney plus shows have been bangin

i hope you enjoyed the ride, thank you for joining me in my. whatever the fuck this is

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ghost-party · 3 years

Text

Pairing: Nanami Kento x OC Word Count: 1.6K Warnings: death of a parent A/N: I’m currently reading the manga, but I’m not caught up yet. My brain just went “Nanami + books + meet-cute wholesomeness,” and here we are. I’m still trying to figure out how long this will end up being. And this is the first fanfic I’ve written in... well, a long time.

Nanami Kento has a bad habit.

He purchases books with every intention of reading them. The genre or subject doesn’t matter, as long as they leave him with a lingering curiosity after the first few pages.

But he never seems to have the time to sit down and read them. No, that’s not right. He doesn’t make the time. Work keeps him busy. It also keeps him absurdly tired. He’s heard Gojo make the joke that sorcerers never sleep. He hates how true that feels.

By the time he arrives home each night and goes through the motions of his usual routine — bath, dinner, chores, reports — he usually lacks the energy to focus on the words on the page. More than once, he’s woken in the early hours of the morning, bedside lamp still glowing, a barely-read book sprawled across his chest.

These days, he tries to exercise more self-control, reminding himself with the same discipline he brings to field work that his personal library is already at capacity.

But one day — a Friday, thankfully, and one that didn’t involve any overtime — he finds his resolve weakening at the sight of a small, nondescript bookshop tucked in between a florist and a corner café.

It’s not very surprising that he’s never come across it before. He doesn’t usually take this route home. But having spent most of his day indoors, he had decided to make the most of the brisk autumn weather and prolong his walk.

He stands there, staring up at the sign — Twice-Told Tales — for what feels like an inordinate amount of time. With a frustrated huff, he gives in and steps inside.

A small bell jingles above him, and he’s enveloped in the familiar scent of old books, that subtle hint of vanilla. It always reminds him of his father’s study, with its built-in shelves and massive desk constantly cluttered with the detritus of his work. The same way that petrichor reminds him of walking home from school with his high school girlfriend, kissing her on the doorstep of her parents’ convenience store. (He’s not sure why that memory comes to mind now.)

Although he has a compulsive need for order in his personal life, a firm believer that everything in his apartment and on his person has a proper place, bookstores are, for whatever reason, exempt. Something about overflowing shelves, books stacked in precarious towers, organized by color or preference or size… It feels right.

And this particular shop seems to have found the sweet spot between order and chaos — just orderly enough to not overwhelm, but still brimming with the promise of surprises. Nanami loves few things more than discovering a book he hadn’t expected to find, or unearthing something he would never have thought to look for.

He’s thumbing through a well-worn travel guide — Budapest, one of the too many places he’s never been — when he hears footsteps approaching. He lifts his head and is struck by a strange, heady vertigo, like the floor has shifted beneath his feet.

From between the stacks toward the back of the store walks a woman. Mid-twenties, if he had to guess, wearing a dark green sweater and black pants. Her brown hair had been hastily pulled back and secured in a loose knot, wisps of it haloing her face. He takes in her small details — relaxed posture, lips quirked into a gentle half-smile, sleeves rolled to her elbows, revealing ink-smudged hands and a glimpse of a tattoo on her left wrist. (He was nothing if not exceedingly perceptive.)

When she looks up and meets his gaze, her smile widens. And before he can say hello, she says the last thing he would have expected: “I like your tie.”

Whenever someone told him that, it was nearly always a joke. After all, his usual tie — burnt yellow with bold flecks of black — was what many would call (and what Gojo did call, with an excess of enthusiasm) garish.

But this time, it’s sincere. And it briefly leaves him tongue-tied.

Finally, he manages a “thank you,” and he’s grateful that he doesn’t sound as confused as he feels. For whatever reason, he is finding it hard to look away. Luckily, she seems unbothered by the prolonged eye contact, still smiling.

“Your Japanese is very good.”

At that, she laughs. “That’s kind of you to say. I’ve lived here for a year, and I think I’ve improved. But I’m definitely still learning.”

He wants to ask where she’s from. He doesn’t know why. He wasn’t in the habit of asking personal questions of complete strangers. Instead, he says, “The shop name. It’s a reference to Hawthorne, isn’t it?”

She nods. “He was one of my father’s favorite authors. He had the name picked out before he’d even bought the building.”

Nanami, to his surprise, feels the same way he does when he stumbles upon an intriguing book — he wants to know the rest of the story. Had her father retired? Or died? Is that why she had moved here? Uprooted her entire life to live abroad?

Why do you care so much? he asks himself. But he doesn’t have an answer.

“Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?”

He shakes his head. “Just browsing.”

“Well, if you need anything, let me know. I’ll be around.”

In an effort to distract himself, he moves from shelf to shelf, perusing poetry, memoirs, thrillers, classics… He is pleased to find a small sitting area at the back of the store, two overstuffed armchairs beneath a window that overlooks a vegetable garden. Having picked up a new-to-him translation of Homer’s Odyssey, he decides to sit and read — at least for a little while. After all, it’s Friday. His usual routine could handle a wrinkle or two.

What he didn’t expect was to lose himself for two hours, until a kind, quiet voice breaks his concentration.

He looks up to find the shopkeeper seated in the chair beside him, holding two cups of what smells like mint tea. Her smile is halfway to a wince as she says, “Sorry... I hope I didn’t startle you. I made some tea and thought you might like some. Or there’s coffee, if you’d prefer that.”

“No, tea is fine. Thank you.” He accepts the cup and glances outside, noticing that the sun is already beginning to set. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. You’re probably closing soon.”

“Half an hour ago, actually. But I didn’t want to interrupt — I really don’t mind.” She nods toward the book resting on his knee. “Have you read it before?”

“Years ago. I’d forgotten how much I liked it.”

“I love that feeling. Like running into an old friend.”

They sit in companionable silence, drinking their tea, and Nanami feels calmer than he has all week. As if the instinctive tension he kept wound inside his body had loosened without him even noticing. It feels strange, in a pleasant way.

Perhaps that’s the reason why he finally asks, “You said this shop belonged to your father?” Using context clues, he opts for the past tense.

She nods. “For twelve years. But then he found out he had cancer, and it was too much work for him. I was in between jobs, had just gotten out of a long relationship…” Here, she pauses, and he notices something flicker in her gaze. But it’s gone too quickly. “And the lease was up on my apartment. So it felt like a sign, I guess. It took a lot of work, but I moved here. And when he died, I inherited this.” She gestures around at the shop. “And the apartment upstairs.”

“Why did you stay?” He’s startled by his own question, and when he notices her eyes widen, he continues, “I imagine it’s been lonely, with him gone, living in another country. You could have sold everything and moved back home.”

“That’s true.” She sets her now-empty teacup on the small table between them and curls one leg beneath her, leaning back into the chair. “I did think about it, at first. Because it all just felt so… overwhelming. But I wanted a fresh start, and that’s what kept me going. Now this feels more like home than my last home ever did.” She turns back to him, looking slightly embarrassed. “Sorry, that was a lot. You’re just easy to talk to.”

Yet another comment he isn’t used to hearing. If anything, he suspects he intimidates most people, with his blunt assessments and polite professionalism. But here is someone he barely knows, opening up to him like... a flower. A sunflower, he idly thinks, not sure exactly why he finds the comparison so fitting.

He glances down at his watch and reluctantly stands, grasping the book. “Thank you for the tea — and the conversation. But I should let you close for the evening.” He holds up Homer’s Odyssey and, indulging that bad habit of his, says, “I’ll take this.”

“Follow me. I’ll ring you up.”

When she hands him his receipt, she smiles at him again — that same open, warm smile that makes him feel like the world is tipping on its axis. It’s unnerving, that she can elicit such a reaction from him. But a small part of him also finds it fascinating.

“My name’s Olivia — Olivia Vale. What’s yours?”

“Nanami Kento.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Nanami-san.” She leads him to the door, keys jingling in her hand. “I hope you come back soon.”

“I will.” And he means it.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #nanami kento #nanami x oc #nanami kento x oc

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rebeccalouisaferguson · 3 years

Link

Back to the Future – Glass talks to Swedish actor Rebecca Ferguson about her roles in Dune, Mission: Impossible and the lessons we can learn from spaghetti

Rebecca Ferguson is on location in Budapest, possibly dressed up as a sci-fi high priestess with glowing blue eyes and a three-pronged bouffant. Dune, Denis Villeneuve’s 2020 reinterpretation of David Lynch’s 1984 Frank Herbert adaptation, needs reshoots of its own, so Ferguson is talking to me over the phone in between takes from what sounds like a galaxy far, far away …

In accordance with “soon-to-be-released-Sci-Fi-epic” law, Dune is shrouded in secrecy. As yet there are no behind the scenes featurettes, and no leaked stills to give an insight into Villeneuve’s vision for Ferguson’s character, Lady Jessica, the age-agnostic mother of Timothée Chalamet’s cosmic hero, Paul Atreides.

So, I do the only thing you can do when imagining the new cast of a reboot and attach Ferguson’s disembodied head to the beheaded body of her Lady Jessica predecessor. Et voilà, Rebecca Ferguson: live from Budapest, possibly looking like a futuristic, blue eyed, heavily bouffanted, Lynchian high priestess.

She’s called back from a location with better phone coverage and we’re discussing cities, from the “incredible” (Budapest), to the inhabitable (London, Ferguson’s second home), via LA, which, putting it mildly, fits neither criteria in the 37-year-old’s glowing blue eyes. “The idea of moving to LA has never, ever, ever been on my agenda,” she declares.

The first thing that strikes you about Ferguson is that she’s passionate talking about practically everything. “Look, there are people I love, who love it there … and I get it. When people there look at you and smile, there is a joy,” she pauses, reliving early encounters with LA, and smiles … “And a happiness which is so lovely and endearing and light – but I can’t take it too long. I just want to smoke a cigarette and kind of blow it in someone’s face.” An apology seems on the tip of her tongue, but she decides it would ruin the joke, and merely says, “I don’t actually smoke, by the way.”

She spends much of the year in a Swedish fishing village – “a different world”, she says, possessing all the things she loves: row boats, the ocean, her friends, grilling fish and just the right amount of smiling and joy. Ferguson’s open and only slightly sardonic disdain for the folly of wanton joy suggests, to me, two things. One: that while she clearly loves Sweden, the place of her birth and homeland of her father, the English side of her mother is potent.

And two: the ability to “get in and get out”, as she puts it, remains a priority. As a teen, Ferguson was unknown to the world but famous in Sweden as the star of soap opera Nya Tider. When the show ended and she was 15, she got out. “I studied, had a beautiful child, worked in restaurants, shops, God … in hotels – I did everything.” Everything but act, other than a couple of minor, un-recurring TV roles and student films in exchange for free lunch.

“I never wanted to go to drama school, mainly because I didn’t want to be like every other Swede in film. Not to criticise Lars Norén or … Ingrid Bergman, but all I could think was ‘I don’t want to be a drama student with a fucking purple beret on my head, I don’t want to be like them’. I think, now, looking back, I was just terrified I wasn’t going to get in.”

Eleven years after Nya Tider, Ferguson starred in Swedish language film, A One-Way Trip to Antibes. “And that was the gateway for me.” Soon after she was cast as Queen Elizabeth in BBC period drama The White Queen, which was less a conveyer belt towards ‘the big time’ as it was a treadmill cranked to 11. But playing Queen Elizabeth on the BBC isn’t without its drawbacks – play the role well enough and the whole world will think you’re English.

Being called Rebecca Ferguson probably doesn’t help, and her English is too perfect to be considered a second language. Most of all, though, it’s to do with the version of Englishness that lives so prominently in Ferguson: her mother’s version. “My mother is quintessentially English,” she says. “When she came over to Sweden, words and expressions like ‘whoops-a-daisy, ‘holy moly’ and ‘kerfuffle’ still existed – it’s how she spoke and it became the natural way of speaking for me, too.”

It made Ferguson a convincing Brit, laying the groundwork for the most seamless England/Sweden switcheroo since Ferguson’s own mother integrated so adeptly into her adopted home that, in 1975, she was awarded the ultimate endorsement: appearing on the sleeve of an Abba album. And yet, beyond the whimsical lingo, Ferguson is neither stiff, stoical nor repressed – three fundamentals of Britishness.

On chat-shows, she’s gregarious and tactile and warm, and this confuses people who go by the “if it looks like a Brit and sounds like a Brit …” metric. It’s a little like painting a cat with black and white stripes and saying, “what’s wrong with that zebra and why is it such an outrageous flirt?” “I’ve seen those bloody comments! It’s so weird. It makes me think I should stop touching people altogether, which is sad because, you know … we’re here, we’re together, we’re human beings.”

The problem is, when your wagon’s hitched to a vehicle like Mission: Impossible, where each instalment is an event, and every instalment ends with the promise of another instalment (Episodes 7 and 8 are in the works), chat show appearances are unending. Rumour is that number seven will be filmed in space, which is a worthwhile trade for the talk-show couch merry-go-round, depending on where you stand on heights. “In space? That’s news to me, but with TC nothing surprises me.”

TC is, of course, Mr Mission Impossible: Tom Cruise. “So,” I ask her, would she do it? “I would probably say ‘fuck off’ to that. Heights are my greatest fear and I’m not doing cognitive therapy acting … then again, I never thought I would jump 40 metres off that house in Vienna (Mission: Impossible – Rogue Nation). That was bloody terrifying. But I did it … and got to do something that I never thought I would do, so maybe it is all just therapy?”

He’s a force of nature,” Ferguson says. “I’ve never met anyone like him.” There’s a unique fascination around Cruise, due to his personal life and the idea that the line separating him from his Mission Impossible character, Ethan Hunt, has become almost non-existent; that the actor has permanently morphed into the character, who now spends his days playing the role of the actor he once was. Which is a crazy suggestion, obviously, but Cruise is so intensely fascinating that I can’t help such ideas whirl through my head whenever I see him interviewed “out of character”.

I ask Ferguson what it’s like to have a relationship with someone so divisive, who invokes such strong opinions, and whether she feels strangely protective of Cruise. “I don’t think I can. I feel there’s no need to be protective of him. He’s powerful … just the way he is. I feel like I’m supported by him all the time.” Nor does she tire of being asked about him. “He’s an interesting person to talk about, and a very interesting person to get to know.

The boyish charm, the need to always be doing fun things for everyone while making sure everyone feels safe … Sometimes we’ll start laughing and unbuckling our seatbelts just to fuck with him,” which weirdly is the only Tom Cruise anecdote I think I’ll ever need. “We’ve had some beautiful moments filming together.”

On which note, with our allotted 30 minutes long expired, I ask Ferguson what ‘together’ means to her, but she seems to have re-entered whatever foreign galaxy she started the interview in, and the question gets chewed up on its way over. She responds, “spaghetti?” which, after some clarification and deliberation, we decide to stick with, despite the kerfuffle. “Because togetherness is the opposite of isolation and segregation,” and nothing represents the importance of togetherness like than the profoundly sad sight of a lone strand of spaghetti.

by Charlie Navin-Holder

#rebecca ferguson #tom cruise #interview #photoshoot #nick thompson shoot #mi5 interview

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