#but i think it sympathizes with steve’s side to the point that he is sort of largely portrayed as In The Right. which i appreciate

[hbyrde36]

Welp, I did this today instead of working on my wips (I regret nothing) 

This was so fun, @every-aj-needs-an-angel 

Thank you for the tag! 💜

Its rules as follows:

1- generate 5 random words using this generator and then write something using those words!

2- tag 5 (or however many you want) mutuals to challenge!

(If you don’t like the five words you got, reroll them. This is meant to be a fun little challenge, not something to stress over. Have fun!)

My words were:

ruby, haberdashery, knit, screech, official  

I’m sure this is very much not medically realistic, but please suspend your disbelief and go on this journey with me.

Eddie was in pretty bad shape. Ruby red blood poured from multiple wounds in his abdomen, and flooded his mouth more and more with each wet cough. Steve knew they had to get him out of here and to the hospital soon or he wasn’t going to make it, but he was afraid that moving him before they could get the bleeding to stop would just make things worse. Pressure wasn’t working, what Eddie needed was stitches, something to hold it all together until they could get him proper medical attention. 

Steve had already sent Nancy back through the gate with Dustin, ignoring the kid’s screech of protest. He was hurt, his ankle badly twisted, and if the worst did happen, and Eddie didn’t make it, Steve didn’t want him to have to see that. Robin had stayed with him though, listening intently as he explained what he was thinking and how he needed her to go back into the trailer to hunt for a sewing kit and a bottle of booze.

“Okay I understand the sewing kit obviously, and you’re right, judging by the stitching work on that battle jacket, Eddie definitely did it himself, so there has to be some needle and thread around there somewhere, but why the alcohol? Do you really think it’s a good idea to get a buzz on before you start pricking him with a sharp object?”

Steve sighed. “It’s not for me, it’s for the wound, Robin! I need to clean it, and the needle. The situation is already less than ideal, but we need to at least try and be sanitary about it so he doesn’t get some sort of freaky alternate dimension infection.”

Robin giggled. “Alternate dimension infection. Hey, that rhymed!”

“Not the time!” Steve shouted.

She blushed. “Sorry, you know how I get when I panic! I’ll be right back.”

Robin set off for the trailer, it wasn’t that far from the spot where Eddie had dropped, but at this point every minute could make the difference between life and death. 

Steve looked down to where his hands were still pressing into the largest of Eddie's bites. The other boy had passed out at some point, while Steve had been forming his plan. Probably for the best, Steve thought, there was nothing worse than getting a needle through your skin without anesthesia. He would know.

Robin returned even quicker than Steve had hoped for, wielding an old cookie tin and a half full bottle of vodka. Perfect. 

He doused his hands with the alcohol first, while Robin picked through the kit and threaded a needle with the thickest thread she could find, and then they dunked that in the liquid as well.

Finally, he moved the t-shirt they had been using to staunch the blood flow on Eddie’s side, and poured another healthy portion of the vodka into the wound.

Eddie jolted awake with a hiss the second it hit his skin. Steve sympathized, that had to hurt. He offered the other boy an apologetic smile as he held up the needle, It was only going to get worse from here. 

“How the hell?” Eddie croaked. “What, is there a fucking haberdashery in the upside down?”

“What’s a haberdashery?” Steve asked, trying to keep his hands steady as he readied himself to begin.

“Where haberdashers work.”

Typical. Steve rolled his eyes. “Leave it to you, Munson, to be insufferable even on your deathbed.”

“I am what I am, Harrington. Now get a move on, it’s not going to knit itself.”

“I think you mean sew? Y’know, like stitches?”

Eddie raised a weak hand to wave the idea off. “Semantics. Knit, sew, crochet, whatever gets the job done.”

“Jesus Christ.” Steve muttered, before taking a deep calming breath. “Okay, are you ready?”

“Ready as I'll ever be, Stevie. It's okay, I trust you.”

-

Hours later, Steve, Robin, and Nancy were sitting in the hospital waiting room, praying for good news about Eddie or Max. They’d lost, that much was made clear by Max’s injuries and the sudden appearance of giant flaming red fissures spanning across the town. The only upside to it all was that, with so much fucked up shit happening around them, no one questioned either of their injuries, or seemed to care that Eddie was wanted by the police. 

Eddie’s last words had been ringing in Steve's ear since he heard them. ‘It’s okay, I trust you.” He passed out again right after he’d said it, and Steve had gone to task in eerie silence.

His work had been shoddy at best, and more than one stitch had popped in the process of getting them all back through the gate, where thankfully Nancy was waiting with the car running and ready to go. Eddie never woke back up.

Steve wondered now, as they waited for updates, if Eddie had been right to trust him, if he had made the right call. Maybe they had gotten him here too late. Maybe they should have just moved him, bleeding be damned. It would have gotten him here a lot sooner. Maybe he could have worked out a way to keep pressure on the wounds as they moved, as they drove. Maybe, maybe, maybe. 

Steve groaned, rubbing his face hard with his hands. At this rate he would go crazy before they ever saw another nurse. 

“Hey.” Robin said, rubbing soothing circles into his back. “They’re gonna be okay, both of them.”

“You don’t know that.” 

“No, I don’t. But I have hope. You have to know, even if Eddie doesn’t make it, it’s not your fault. You did everything you could.” 

Steve scoffed. “Did I, though? I just left him and Dusin there alone, Robin. They weren’t prepared for that!”

Robin shook her head. “None of us were prepared for this, and you didn’t leave them there, Steve. We all agreed to the plan, insane as it was. You’re not responsible.”

“If you say so.”

Finally, a nurse appeared in the doorway.

“You three here for Munson?” She asked.

They all stood, eagerly nodding. 

“Your.. friend had to be taken in for surgery. He’s out now, and stable. He’s not awake yet, but that’s to be expected.”

“Can we see him?” Steve asked.

“Are any of you family?” The nurse asked.

Steve hesitated, unsure if lying would somehow hurt Eddie’s case in the long run.

The nurse smiled at him sadly. “I’m sorry but…”

“I’m family.” A gruff voice called, just as a man approached their small group. “I’m Wayne Munson, I got a call that my nephew was here.”

“Oh yes, Mr Munson, I can take you to see him now.”

Steve deflated. He knew he probably had no right, but he really wanted to see for himself that Eddie was okay. 

Instead of immediately going with the nurse, the older man turned to Steve and the girls. “You three the one’s who brought my boy in?”

“Yes, sir.” Steve answered. 

Without a word, Wayne stepped forward and scooped all three of them into a group hug. Amidst the embrace he quietly said, “I was told he could have two visitors, and, well, there’s only me so, one of you three want to come with?”

“You should go, Steve.” Robin suggested quickly. “You’re the one who saved him.”

Steve sniffled, having lost the battle with his tears the moment Eddie’s uncle had embraced them. 

“It’s settled then.” Wayne said. He kept one arm around Steve’s shoulders as the girls fell back, settling once more into the hard chairs of the waiting room. 

“Okay, ma’am, my other nephew and I are ready to go see Ed now.” Wayne said to the nurse, steering Steve along with him back in her direction.

The nurse raised an eyebrow.”You’re other nephew?” 

“That’s right.”

She looked dubious but didn’t argue, and proceeded to lead them to Eddie’s room.

Along the way, Wayne told Steve about another phone call he received just prior to hearing from the hospital. Apparently Chief Powell had gotten word from someone in the government shortly before the “earthquake”, and though it wouldn’t be official until the right paperwork was processed, it seemed that Eddie had been exonerated.

Knowing what he did about the people involved, Steve was surprised the powers-that-be weren’t going to let Eddie take the fall for all of this. Realistically he couldn't be blamed for the fissures of course, but the murders before-hand? Steve shook himself out of his thoughts, deciding it would be better not to question it, and just accept the win.  

When they finally reached Eddie’s hospital room, Wayne walked right up to the bed. Steve, however, froze in the doorway. The boy in the bed looked so small and broken, nothing like the force of nature Steve had spent the past week getting to know. Suddenly he was terrified to get any closer, and unsure of why.

Wayne cleared his throat, waving Steve in. “C’mon, he won’t bite. Not unless you ask nicely anyway.”

Steve huffed a gentle laugh,shaking his head as he finally snapped out of it and approached the bed rail. “I see where Eddie gets his sense of humor.”

Wayne smiled. “He’s much worse than me, boy’s a menace.”

“Yea, I know” Steve agreed fondly, finally giving in to the urge to hold Eddie’s limp hand. 

Wayne’s eyes tracked the movement. “Are you and my nephew close? Can’t say I remember him ever mentioning a friend named Steve before. Unless, well.. No, nevermind.”

“What is it?”

Wayne narrowed his eyes. “What’s your last name again?”

“Uh, Harrington.” Steve answered, confused as to why that was suddenly relevant.

Wayne paused for a moment, and then absolutely lost his mind laughing. If Steve wasn’t sure that Eddie was truly unconscious he’d be worried about the noise waking him. 

“Sir?”

“Typical Eddie, aint it?” Wayne said between cackles. “Wanted for murder, on the run from the law, and still somehow managed to get his man.”

Steve could feel himself turning bright red as the man’s words sunk in. He hadn’t meant to give the man the wrong idea by holding Eddie’s hand, he’d just wanted to feel him. He wanted some reassurance. His first instinct was to drop the hand and back away, it’s what he thought he should do, but it wasn’t what he wanted. He fought to keep himself in place and met Wayne’s eyes. 

“No need to panic, son, I've known about Eddie since he was 12 years old. Your secret’s safe with me.” 

“Thank you, but, I have to tell you, um, we’re not together.” Steve explained, though the way his gut twisted as he said it told him a lot about how drastically his feelings towards Eddie had changed.

“I see,” Wayne said, holding his gaze for a long moment. “You should consider telling him how you feel when he wakes up. Don’t tell him I said so, but he’s had a crush on you for years, he’ll be thrilled.”

“Am I that obvious?” Steve joked. He must be, he thought, for the man to have picked up on it before Steve had even realized himself.

“It’s okay, kid. Just, be good to him, alright? I don’t want to have to shoot the guy that saved my nephew's life.”

Steve smiled, rubbing his thumb along the back of Eddie’s hand where he still held it. “I will, I promise”

(absolutely no pressure) tagging @penny00dreadful @dreamwatch @vecnuthy @manda-panda-monium @thisapplepielife @brbsoulnomming @thefreakandthehair

#tag games #steddie fanfic #steddie ficlet #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steve x eddie #steve harrington/eddie munson

[ariesbilly]

Au where the hargrove-mayfields move to Hawkins and the first person billy befriends is robin

And billys lamenting that he needs a job but it’s fall so the pools closed and the local mechanic isn’t hiring and he’s not having much luck anywhere else either, until robin offers up that the local country club is looking for a new waiter and billys like “no country club is gonna hire me” and robins like “we just gotta clean you up real nice and if that doesn’t work just drop some names to get you in” and billys like “whose name am I supposed to drop…”

And that’s when robin suggests using the harringtons for clout. “There’s Paul, and Elaine and their son Steve who’s super obnoxious but all the girls seem to think he’s cute. If you’re into that sort of thing” a wink and a nudge in billys direction

And billys like alright fine let’s go with that. So he gets dressed up all nice, ties his hair back, puts in his best face for this interview, and the lady is STILL a raging bitch but like in a passive aggressive way until billys finally like “before you continue with the thinly veiled insults and bitchy attitude, do you actually need a waiter or can I leave?” And the lady’s like “the positions been filled, goodbye”

And as billy gets up to leave he remembers robins advice and goes “such a shame I’m gonna have to go back to the harringtons and complain about the terrible staff in this place…”

And the lady immediately perks up like “you know the harringtons?” And billys like “yeah duh. How else do you think I learned about this position?”

So he ends up getting hired. Cut to his first day of work he’s running all over the place taking rich assholes orders, wondering if the money is really worth his sanity and dignity at this point.

And there’s this one table where this preppy pastel polo wearing brunet is sitting by his lonesome. And as billy passes by the guy chirps up like “I ordered a sweet tea and club sandwich half an hour ago” and billys like oh shit that’s right and immediately goes to get him drink at least. And as he’s pouring this guy starts going on about how billy looks overwhelmed and he must be stressed out, and it’s like he’s trying to sympathize but also it just comes across incredibly douchey and it’s pissing billy off. And the guys acting like he knows billy. All “I’ve seen your type a thousand times before. Let me guess- wrong side of the tracks right? Maybe trailer park? Dads in jail, mom took up a drug habit? Forced to raise yourself?” And billys two seconds away from saying fuck this job and decking the guy right then and there until he laughs and goes “I’m sorry. That’s the kind of shit my dad says all the time to help. I was just testing it out to see what it felt like. He’s the kind of guy to make waiters want to spit in their food.”

And billy just clenches his jaw real tight and says “I’ll go check on your order” and the guys laughing like “you would do it wouldn’t you? Spit in my food?”

And billys trying to walk away before he causes a scene but the guys following him, starts giving some woe is me story about having a rich daddy and how hard it is to be in that environment all the time surrounding by trust fund babies and whatnot and billys like “let me play you the worlds smallest violin 🙄” and the guy is just eating him up like…smarmy smile on his face, thinks billy is sooo entertaining, thinks he’s actually making himself look good in this conversation, totally full of himself, not a clue in the world

So anyway billys about to throttle this guy until he finds out it’s Steve harrington. And normally this would mean n thing to him except Steve’s kind of the only reason billy got this job even if he doesn’t know that, which makes it even worse, so billys changing his attitude real quick. Putting on a fake smile, suddenly going pleasant. Makes sure Steve has the best dining experience and leaves zero complaints.

Steve becomes a regular after that. Always making sure to sit in billys section, always there to rile him up. And billys so so close to snapping every day like the amount of self restraint he has is truly incredible

Until one night while on his shift it’s not just steve there. His parents are dining with him too. And billy sees firsthand how Steve goes from cocky smug bastard to sinking in his chair, head down, looking utterly miserable. Even catches a bit of a fight between steve and his dad while they were off in what was assumed to be a private corner. Billy overhears how Steve’s dad just rips into him, destroying any semblance of self confidence. And billy…begrudgingly feels bad for the guy after that.

And maybe after billys shift he finds steve still hanging around…and he offers up a smoke. And they start lamenting about shitty dads. And maybe Steve apologizes for being such a dick. And billys like “yeah okay. But you do that shit again I will actually kick your ass”

And Steve’s like “wow you accepted that apology real easy” and billy shrugs and says “I’ve been fucking with your food this whole time so we’ll call it even”

And Steve’s appalled and disgusted and billys laughing but it forms a weird truce between them lmao

And the of course ya know flirting kissing fucking falling in love you know how it goes

#harringrove #if any of this sounds like a plot from Dawson’s creek….it’s because it is #the beginning of it anyway I fucked around with the rest lmao

[dashiellqvverty]

everything the marvel industrial complex does makes it harder to believe the winter soldier ever got made

#like obviously it’s not the most radical anti government message in the world it’s still like #the guy with the flag on his chest is Good and Right and the government was only bad bc they got infiltrated by hydra #but they still pretty firmly said government bad and wrong #like the Good Guys backed project insight too #and were Wrong to do it #and it’s just so at odds with most of what the mcu does lmao #and the russo’s made it!!! marvel money rots your brain i guess #like in that movie they had an understanding of those characters that NO other mcu movie has had #and honestly there is a lot i like about civil war. i definitely like it more than most even tho there is also a lot i don’t like #but i think it sympathizes with steve’s side to the point that he is sort of largely portrayed as In The Right. which i appreciate #ANYWAY #i can’t believe catws exists it IS my favorite movie ever #r.txt

[iamanartichoke]

I’m sure this is an unpopular opinion so don’t @ me but this has been bugging me so much since WandaVision came out that I just need to get it off my chest. 

I don’t understand Wanda’s grief. 

I can appreciate that the writers are going to great lengths to portray her grief as debilitating and genuine and raw, and that it’s more or less being treated respectfully. 

I can recognize that it’s an important story to be told, both in terms of framing a narrative around the stages of grief and using the MCU platform to bring awareness to the ways in which people struggle with loss, in addition to being fairly creative (the tv shows through the decades is pretty good) and setting up a multiverse that will tie into other franchises (Dr. Strange, probably Loki). 

Like, I get all that. 

But the root of Wanda’s grief is coming from Vision’s death. Yes, it’s about Pietro too, along with her background trauma, but 75% of this is about Vision - his death being a catalyst of sorts, the way in which he died, the pain of losing a romantic partner. But I just ... don’t ... feel it. 

I keep seeing those gifs of Wanda sinking to her knees and breaking down in the empty lot where their house was supposed to be. It should be an extremely emotional moment, but all I think when I look at them is, when did they get so established as to be planning to build a house? Why am I supposed to care about this and feel Wanda’s loss with her? 

Prior to Infinity War, we really didn’t get any setup for the Vision/Wanda ship. They didn’t interact at all in Age of Ultron. In Civil War, they may have shared a few interested looks but they were ultimately on different sides, with Vision even discouraging Wanda from doing what she felt was right (”If you do this, they’ll never stop being afraid of you” - which, I hate that, but that’s another topic). 

They had a conversation about fear, and also apparently Vision would just phase through Wanda’s bedroom walls (”Vision, we’ve talked about this,”), and ... that’s it? The majority of their relationship was established off-screen, in between movies. The entirety of their struggle in Infinity War consisted of the narrative telling us Vision had to be saved because he and Wanda were so much in love, but it did little to show us that was true. 

We didn’t get to see them getting from point A to point B. We didn’t get to see them interacting awkwardly while we knew that they liked one another but were dancing around it; we didn’t get to see their first kiss or watch them open up to one another; we weren’t there when they fell in love. By the time Infinity War came around and they were supposed to be a serious couple, I was not invested in them in the least (and actively disliked Vision but, again, another topic). 

This is all a very long-winded way of saying that it frustrates me that this whole premise of grief and loss (an entire tv series!) was built around this relationship that was barely established whatsoever in the MCU and that I personally feel no investment in. The “stakes” aren’t there for me; I can’t identify or understand Wanda’s grief because I don’t know what it is she’s grieving in the first place. I know cognitively, of course, but I don’t know emotionally. 

At least with Pietro’s death, the relationship was well-established. We saw how much they relied on one another; they were physically affectionate and Pietro was framed as kind of a caretaker for Wanda and it was clear that these were two siblings who were and are incredibly close. I still feel sad about Wanda losing Pietro. Not Vision. 

Not really to make this about Loki and Thor, because it isn’t, but at least we can understand Thor’s deep grief about Loki’s death in Infinity War, in addition to the loss of his friends and of Asgard, because those were all established things the audience was invested in. In TFA, when Bucky fell off the train, it was gut-wrenching for us as well as Steve because the narrative showed us how close they were and how much they loved each other. But Wanda and Vision ... it’s like how Clint’s family came out of nowhere and suddenly we’re supposed to care about them being dusted and sympathize with Clint’s grief-fueled murder spree. (I don’t.) 

I did not intend for this to be such a long post and, again, please don’t @ me bc this is just me getting it off my chest, not trying to start any discourse. Ultimately it just comes down to me being extremely frustrated at the quality given to Wanda’s grief arc when the thing she’s grieving didn’t, from the audience’s perspective, warrant it. It perpetuates that telling and not showing is a valid narrative choice, and perpetuates the idea that the audience is supposed to care about what they tell us to care about, not what we end up being invested in based on the quality of the story. And maybe that is a little about Loki, too, and the disconnect between how the narrative portrays him vs what tptb tell us he’s supposed to be - which, unfortunately, is at the root  of so much of the meta and discourse regarding Loki’s general existence. 

But, again, that’s another topic. 

#long post #sorry #this is not disparaging to #wandavision #in any way shape or form #i appreciate what they're doing #and appreciate that it's being done well #this is just my own personal hangup #i mean am i alone in this or??? #idk idk but just wanted to get it out there #wandavision spoilers #i guess? #bold of me to post this entire thing and i haven't even watched the show #yet #lmao #oh well

[astarryon]

Amends

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence and weapons, slight language, short fight scene, etc.

Summary: The last thing you expect to find when you come home is the most important ghost from your haunted past.

A/N: Not really sure where this one came from, just something I dreamed up after watching the first episode of TFATWS! Let me know what y’all think!

Masterlist

It’s the sharp, cloying scent of cologne that tips you off.

You don’t think much of it at first, initially having caught the trail of it down the hall from your apartment door. Automatically, you assume it belongs to one of your neighbors, or even one of the guests they’ve invited over for the night. Nothing to harbor any sort of significant concern over.

That changes the instant you reach your front door.

It’s locked. In addition to that, the hall light is off, and from what you can see there’s only darkness to be seen beyond the bottom crack of the door. For all intents and purposes, as far as you can tell, everything is exactly how you’d left it upon leaving your home earlier in the evening. But the closer you’d walked to your door, the more concentrated the scent had become –– to the point that it’s now the only thing your sharpened senses can focus on.

You didn’t used to be like this. Paranoid. Always instantly assuming the worst, to note something as simple as the smell of cologne hanging in the air and immediately jump to the conclusion that it meant someone had finally come to put an end to you. There’d been a time, once, when you trusted easily and laughed with everyone. When you would make conversations with strangers as you passed them by on the street, when you could spend ages soaking in the sun with your eyes closed with no worry of whether you’d open them to find a knife buried in your chest or a bullet lodged in your skull.

But you hadn’t been that way in a very, very long time. And as you crack the door to your apartment open, reaching for the knife hidden at your hip as the cologne’s stench only grows stronger, you can’t help but wonder if that isn’t as much a blessing as it is a curse.

Your apartment is dark, but that doesn’t make much difference to you. You’ve got the space memorized like the back of your hand, know where each corner is and where every weapon is placed –– home court advantage. Stepping inside and closing the door as softly as you can, you make sure to keep your back to the wall, clutching the handle of your knife ever tighter. You might know your way around, but you’ve been intentionally dulling your senses, your reflexes, in an effort to bury the past and leave it behind you. You’re not entirely sure where the intruder is in your home, and you’ll be damned before you let them get the drop on you before you’ve put up a proper fight.

And then you hear it. A creak in the floor boards with the shifting of body weight, just to your right. In your chest, your heart thumps so forcefully that you’re positive its bound to explode right through your ribcage, and you know you don’t have much time, but that doesn’t stop you from slipping your eyes closed for the single spare second you do have and steeling yourself for what’s sure to come before opening them again, sliding your gaze just over your shoulder to assess the present threat.

Your mouth instantly runs dry the moment you lay eyes on him.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he says softly, but your reflexes kick in the moment he speaks and before you can blink, you launch at him in a flurry of fists and panic.

That face. How many hours have you spent trying to convince yourself you would never see that face again, never have that bone chilling, bloodcurdling voice rasping in your ear? How much time have you spent nervously glancing over your shoulder, moving from apartment to apartment because something in your gut told you he was on your trail? You didn’t want to believe it, had always tried to reassure yourself that he was gone –– that all of Hydra was gone –– but you’d never quite managed to convince yourself.

And, given that you’d just walked into your apartment to find the Winter Soldier staring back at you, that was apparently for good reason.

He blocks the first hit you throw at him easily, sidestepping out of its way. The second manages to clip him on the jaw, though it doesn’t succeed in knocking him back as it would on any normal person. He opens his mouth to speak again, but you don’t give him the chance to get a word out before you send a kick flying toward his face. He’s forced to duck and roll, which in turn gives you an opening to launch another kick, but he reaches out with a hand and clamps a vice like grip around your ankle.

All it takes is one decisive tug for him to put you flat on your back.

“Stop,” he snaps, reaching to knock the knife from your grip. Funny, that. In your panic to land a hit on him, you hadn’t even thought to make use of it. “Stop fighting. I’m not here to hurt you.”

It’s the second time the words fall from his mouth, but as with the first, they don’t leave much of an impression.

The Winter Soldier looks just the same as the last time you’d been in his presence, save for shorter hair and a clean shaven face. His skin is still pale as a sheet, turned ghostly in the few slivers of moonlight that manage to creep their way through the blinds hanging in the window. His eyes are still ice, a shade of blue that makes you grind your teeth and sets your nerves on edge. He’s got that same melancholy about him that had been there the first time you’d seen him, though now you knew better than to sympathize with it, to trust it.

Making that mistake years ago had cost you your life as you knew it.

“Get off me,” you command, struggling hard.

It’s no use –– his grip is much too strong. You won’t be going anywhere until he wants you to.

“Please stop,” he tries, an odd desperation in his words.

“Get off me!” you yell again, kicking with your legs like a helpless child.

The Winter Soldier clamps the hand not preoccupied with pinning your wrists above your head over your mouth, waiting for your muffled screams and swears to die down before trying to speak again.

“Look, this is simple,” he sighs tiredly, inexplicable sadness shining in his eyes. “I will let go of you as soon as you calm down. Alright? All I want is to have a conversation.”

You want to call bullshit, but his hand over your mouth still robs you of your voice. You aren’t sure what game he’s playing, but it doesn’t seem like he’s leaving you with much of a choice but to participate. And… well, technically up to this point, every move he’s made has been defensive. Perhaps playing along wouldn’t necessarily be the worst course of action.

He removes his touch from your body as soon as you nod and go still, making it clear that you have no intention to repeat your flurry of attacks from before. Part of you is tempted to make an attempt to pull one over on him, strike and get up and leave as fast as you can, but you know it would be in vain. He’s faster than you, always has been. It wouldn’t take more than a passing second for him to get his hand around your throat and squeeze.

The two of you sit together in silence for a few awkward minutes, trading nothing but ragged, adrenaline spiked breaths and charged stares between you. Just when you’re sure his ploy for peace had been nothing more than a cheap trick to allow him time to catch his breath before finishing the job and killing you, he opens his mouth, then closes it again, and repeats this sequence of actions two more times before actually giving a voice to his words.

“My name is James,” he tells you, casting his eyes down to the floor. “I’m… I’m not who I used to be.”

“You’re not?” you seethe, barely managing to keep your volume level in check. “You sure look the same.”

“I’m not,” the Winter Soldier –– or, James, as he’d introduced himself –– insisted. “Not at all.”

“That’s funny,” you spit, hands trembling where you’ve forced them to remain down at your sides. If you squeeze your fists any tighter, you’ll be sure to snap a bone. “Because I remember you. You and all the little lessons you made sure to incorporate into your training.”

“That wasn’t me,” James mutters lowly, jaw working hard enough that the grind of his teeth was audible.

“Oh, wasn’t it, though?” you hiss, flashes of red anger lacing your vision. “You weren’t the one who dislocated my arm and then forced me to spar without resetting it? You weren’t the one who taught me to lie by holding a blade to my throat and pressing the knife harder against my skin every time you saw a shift in my expression? Neither of those were you?”

“No,” he mumbles, but you hardly hear it, and you don’t care to.

You aren’t done with him. Not yet.

“Then you also must not be the one responsible for the deaths of my family,” you throw at him, the tang of iron souring the back of your tongue. “The one who took my parents away from me with the squeeze of a trigger? The same one who happens to be the whole reason that Hydra managed to get their hands on me in the first place? You knew what it was like, to be taken and turned into a monster, a–– a machine for them to build to suit their needs and use whenever they felt like they didn’t have enough power, but you didn’t care. You could have stopped that from happening to me, but you didn’t.”

“That wasn’t me,” James snaps, raising his hoarse voice at you for the first time all evening. The sudden outburst is so jarring it takes you aback, forcing a pause in the functions of your brain. All you can do is continue gazing upon the quiet anger which slowly boils into James’ features. “You were with Hydra for twenty years before Steve blew their cover, I was with them for seventy. Seven decades, doing the work of the people I enlisted in the world war to stop in the first place. Knowing that, do you honestly think the things I did were at all my own decisions?”

You cross your arms, swallowing hard as your gaze switches from his contorted expression to the floor. You don’t want to hear this. All these years hiding, trying to get back to some semblance of normal and carve out as much of a life as you could for yourself, it hadn’t been the faces of the Hydra operatives that haunted your nightmares each time you closed your eyes to fall asleep. It had been one with eyes blue as ice and twenty times colder, no compassion, compunction, or remorse to be found at all within their depths. One with a gaze deader than any of the corpses he’d been responsible for making.

That face was his.

“So why are you here then?” you sigh, still staring at the floor. You can’t trust yourself with anything else, not right now. Actually looking up at him holds the potential to yield very dangerous results. “To finish the job? I’m not stupid, I know none of the other agents are left. But if you think I’m just going to sit here all quiet and make killing me easier on you––”

“Oh, you people and your assumptions,” James mutters blackly under his breath, reaching a gloved hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “That is not why I’m here. Which I might have been able to tell you if you’d just let me get a word in edgewise.”

“You mean like you used to let me?” you scoff, rolling your eyes to the ceiling and doing your damnedest not to give into the rage rising in your chest. “You’ll have to forgive me for not buying that, considering the entirety of our past and all.”

“Christ,” he gripes, more to himself than to you, “and Raynor says I’m paranoid.” The name isn’t one you recognize, but to James its significance is clear. Speaking it seems to serve as a reminder to him, and he exhales deeply and loosens his shoulders in response to it. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he almost appeared to be counting himself down to his next sentence –– like it was so important he needed to work his way up to it. “I’m here… because…”

You blink, tilting your head to the side as you await his explanation. Actively refraining from attempting any guesses. Not exactly a challenge. If he truly didn’t come here to kill you, then his motive was a complete mystery.

Ages pass before he finally works up the nerve to say what he’s been meaning to.

“I’m here,” he sighs, carefully enunciating each word like he’s afraid they’ll break if he doesn’t pay them enough care, “because I am no longer the Winter Soldier. I am… I am James Bucky Barnes, and you are part of my effort to make amends.”

His words are small, crafted with the brittleness of glass and about ten times as fragile. They’re spoken so resolutely that you’re positive this isn’t the first instance in which he’s uttered them to another human, but they seem… choked, for lack of a better description. Judging by his grimace, they clearly don’t come easily, either.

You’re entirely unsure what to make of them.

“You don’t have to say anything,” James assures you, clasping his hands together in a manner that almost looks meek. “I don’t expect… What I’m trying to say is that it’s not transactional, this apology. There isn’t anything I want from you, or anything I’m looking to take. Just… My doctor, she had me write out a list of names of people to confront, and some to apologize to. That’s the one yours is on.”

You hear the words coming out of his mouth. What’s more, you understand them in a conceptual sense. But for some reason your brain lags in correlating the words and their meanings, in properly contextualizing them in accordance with his soft tone and the sincere regret in his eyes. Of all the nights you’d spent living in fear of this exact moment, that your mentor of once upon a time would one day appear to quietly finish you off, the last thing you’d ever expected to be met with instead was this.

Whatever this was, exactly.

You scan his body head to toe once more, searching more carefully this time. Dressed in all black as he was, it made it slightly more difficult to be certain, but you don’t see any telltale signs of a gun hiding anywhere beneath his clothing. That didn’t mean there wasn’t one, nor did it mean there was no knife strapped to his arm or tucked away in his boot, but you could spy no evidence.

So, no weapons. No yelling, other than to cut through your assumptions of violence. No hissed warnings or threats. No apparent sign he’s looking for a fight. Each of your senses scream at you to ignore all of this, to put no trust at all into the meaningless words of a man, a machine, who had only ever served to bring strife and suffering into your life. Even in spite of the realization that he’s likely unarmed, you still find yourself tempted to attack and flee before he inevitably makes his move.

But then…

“Why?”

The question catches each of you by surprise. James, because he clearly hadn’t expected much of a response, and if he got one, he didn’t think it would be simple as a posed curiosity, and you, because you hadn’t truly meant to ask the question aloud.

“Why…?” James echoes, brow furrowing in confusion. Certainly a sight to behold. Time away from existing as the Winter Soldier had evidently made his face that much more expressive.

Strange, that there could be so much to read in that face, yet so little at the same time.

You open your mouth to speak, carefully sifting through words in your mind before deciding upon the proper combination to convey your meaning. “Why would you want to do something like that?”

James squints in confusion. “Apologize?” he reiterates, gears in his head visibly turning a mile a minute.

“You had to know what I would think,” you explain, “seeing you after all this time. You say you have a list? Well, I can’t be the only one who instantly jumped to the worst case scenario. Why would you… why would you want to put yourself through something like that? A slideshow of the people you hurt? That’s painful, James.”

“No more painful than all the things I did to them,” James sighs, shoulders deflating. “To you. And anyway, it wasn’t me who did all those things. It was someone else’s will, I was just… I was just the tool. That’s not something I can change, and I can’t bring back all the people Hydra used me to kill. But I can apologize for it, because I am sorry. Just like I’m sorry for my part in what happened to you.”

You can see it more clearly, now. The human in him. Before, he’d been cold. Mechanic. Void of any and all emotion as far as the eye could see. That had made it easy to hate him, all those days he’d made you fight, spar, endure endless physical and emotional pain until you learned to be the tool Hydra wanted you to be. In your pain, your rage, your fear that all you would know for the rest of your existence were dark rooms and metal walls, the Winter Soldier had been the one to incur your wrath.

But this man was not the one you’d known. This man was different. This was a man whose eyes glimmered with remorse so bright it looked like unshed tears. This was a man with a face so expressive it was hard to believe you’d known its features for decades. A man who only wanted to talk, because if he’d had a more sinister motive in coming here, you would surely be dead by now.

Just as he’d told you moments ago, this man was not the Winter Soldier.

“Does it help?” you question, unable to force your words above a whisper. “Seeking people out, apologizing like this.”

“Not in the way you’re thinking,” James tells you, blue eyes wandering back to the floor. The light of the moon peeking through your window casts them an odd tone of silver. “It doesn’t take the hurt away, not for me or for them. But it helps to say it out loud, that I’m not that person anymore. Not everyone believes it, but all of this isn’t for them. It’s for me.”

“To what end?” you ask, words coming out harsher than you mean them to. “What’s the point, then?”

James shrugs a shoulder, head shaking. “My doctor says closure,” he supplies, reaching up almost nervously to scratch at the back of his neck with a gloved hand. “Making amends helps process difficult situations. It’s not easy, but I figure it’s as good a shot as I’ve got to move on from all of this.”

All James was looking for was a way to move on. Wasn’t that the same thing you’d been trying to do these past few years, when you laid down to sleep at night and did your best to push all the faces of the people you’d hurt at Hydra’s direction out of your mind? You certainly wouldn’t consider yourself the same person you’d been back then. Was it really fair of you to condemn James to his past in the way you’d been trying so hard to escape yours?

“I’ve been at this a long time, James,” you sigh, shaking your head. “Trying to move on from my past, trying to… forget. So far, it hasn’t worked out.”

“Forgetting isn’t the point,” James responds carefully, analyzing your face with marked carefulness. “You’ll never be able to forget. The past will always be there. It’s not something you can run from.” He pauses then, and the next time he speaks it sounds as if he’s been struck hard by a sudden epiphany. “But you can come to terms with all of it,” he goes on, “if you try. And you really gotta try, ‘cause otherwise all that bad will still be waiting for you when you wake up in the morning. Take it from someone who knows.”

And you don’t really know what to say to that. You’re not really sure what you can say. James’ certainty is tangible. You can feel it in his words, the way they tickle your brain like ribbons and set your mind rolling down a path you don’t altogether recognize. You want to ask him about it, make him elaborate further on all that he’s said, pick each and every one of his sentences apart until you understand the methods and reasonings for what he’s doing so you can know for sure if it will work for you the same it clearly seems to be working for him.

But he’s clearing his throat and running a hand through his dark hair before you get the chance.

“Like I said,” James tells you. “I’m very sorry for the hurt and the pain my actions have caused you. I can’t take it back, and I can’t change the past. All I can do now is try to be someone better. I hope… I hope you understand.”

And then he’s gone, out the front door so quickly you don’t realize until it shuts behind him.

You scan through your dark apartment, taking note of all your surroundings. James has left no sign of his presence, hasn’t disturbed a single one of your belongings. Even his footsteps over the floor on his way out had been remarkably silent –– though that, you supposed, was characteristic of his capabilities. Here and gone in an instant, fluid as a ghost.

The realization that you’d only been aware of his presence before entering your apartment because he’d wanted you to be strikes you dumb.

He hadn’t come here to cause you harm, hadn’t shown up at your home to kill you, rid himself and the rest of the world of the living reminder of the dark things which had gone on in the Hydra base –– though, doing so would have required such little effort on his part. No, James… James’ reason for seeking you out had been exactly what he’d told you.

Making amends, in an attempt to forgive himself for the things which others surely couldn’t. Perhaps that had been your mistake all these years. Rather than beating the past out of your mind with a stick, refusing to acknowledge it for everything you’re worth… maybe trying something else was the correct way to go.

Surely taking a page out of James’ book couldn’t hurt.

Your body took charge through no accord of your own, and before you realized it, you were standing in your kitchen beneath the glow of a single light staring down at a blank sheet of paper, fingers turning the pen in your grasp over and over again in your palm.

Names. You needed to write down names. But doing that would require you to actively delve into your past, and you weren’t sure that was something you could handle much of tonight. But there was one name which immediately sprang to mind, one repeating itself over and over in your head like a mantra. Sighing, you uncapped the pen and touched its point to paper, hastily scrawling out a single name before setting it back down on the counter.

James Bucky Barnes.

A list of names to make amends, half to confront, half to apologize.

You’d been on his. It only makes sense that he’d be on yours, too.

#bucky barnes #the falcon and the winter solider spoilers #tfatws #james barnes #marvel #bucky x reader #fanfiction #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #one shot #bucky

[sh1tbird-shantytown]

Ah thank you for answering my Stommy ask i loved it a lot. Can i get some more Stommy.

Okay so like what if Tommy finally sees what Steve's doing with the kids amd the mindflayer and acts like he's down to help and he is he wants to help steve.

But at the same time he has a bit of a breakdown infront of everyone and his whole bad boy persona drops and he's scared he didn't expect this, he didn't believe in anything like this before and he doesn't understand how steve does it.

Can i get some Johnathan being sympathetic to Tommy and sort coming to an understanding with him, and they get eachother, (i like to think that Tommy isn't rich like steve and is more like the byers than everyone thought. Like he comes from a broken home and all the fancy clothes he gets from steve)

Ooo and some tommy and johnathan being like ugh "rich people"

Will and Tommy moment though where will is like :O and Tommy takes him under his wing like Steve did with Dustin

Whoa this is long. Im so sorry. I hope you have a good day.

stommy for sure. thanks, hun!

===

He didn’t expect it to happen. He never really did, he would get a call from Hopper or Joyce or Dustin usually. Cancel everything and go play near death whack-a-mole for a few hours. He’s gotten real good at it at this point. Tommy was suspicious, started asking questions.

“Where are you going off to?” he’d shown up at the Harrington house. Steve wouldn’t let him in, his bag of monster hunting supplies and his stained nail bat poking out prominently. “Or do you have someone in there with you?” Tommy moved his head around to search behind Steve’s shoulders.

“No, Tom,” Steve put his hands up, “Some stuff just came up. An emergency.”

“Is your mother in the hospital? Is your father back home and he’s sending you out for errands so he can invite his side chick over—“

Steve leaned against the doorway, unamused, “—Come on, Tom, that’s not funny.”

But Tommy didn’t stop, “—Is Dustin sick? What’s so important that you had to cancel twice on me this week? Huh!” Steve closed his eyes for a brief moment, collecting his bearings. He stepped out and closed the door behind him.

“Look,” he slowly took Tommy’s hand, the other watching with clear suspicion. “I would much rather stay in with you and watch your stupid drama movies.” The other’s face twisted a little but he listened. “Hopper needs me right now, important, top secret, emergency.” He squeezed Tommy’s fingers a little with every accentuated word. “It’s best that you don’t know, you’re safer that way.” He had hoped that would get Tommy to back off. Wishful thinking.

Tommy shook his head and crossed his arms defiantly, “I’m coming with you for sure now. You don’t get to keep things like this from me now. No secrets.” Steve opened his mouth but Tommy pinched his arm, interrupting him. “No secrets! Okay? You don’t get to go risk yourself, or whatever you’re implying, and leave me in the dark!” Tommy stomped his foot and Steve had the mind to assume he’d been paying attention to all his sisters way of dealing with their own boyfriends. Tommy cupped both sides of his cheeks when Steve sighed. “I am your boyfriend,” he made Steve look at him. Tommy looked concerned, face wrinkled and cheeks pale. “I deserve to know.”

His shoulders sank as he gave in, “You’re not going to like it. Probably won’t even believe it.”

Tommy glared, “Try me.”

Steve went back into the house and grabbed his bag. Tommy quickly noticed the bat, obvious about it with his wide eyes not meeting Steve’s own and instead on the spikes peaking out over his shoulder. He didn’t ask yet though. Instead, he followed Steve all the way to the BMW and then got in the passenger side.

Steve looked over at Tommy sitting rigidly before starting the ignition. There were intense lines between his eyebrows and his lips were being abused by him biting them. He started gnawing on his fingernails when Steve made a decision.

He stepped out quick and Tommy startled, “Where are you going now?”

Steve leaned back in, antsy, “I’m going to get you a weapon.” Tommy looked like he desperately wanted to ask, Steve waited, but Tommy just sat back with his leg bouncing. He sighed again and Tommy glanced over at the noise. “You don’t have to come. It’d be better if you just stayed here until I get back.” Tommy folded his arms, leg still going up and down due to the weight of his hand not lessening it.

“Like hell I am,” he grumbled, “Go get me something if it’s so necessary.” Steve’s shoulders and ankles were tense and locked a little in place. This wasn’t going to end well even if Tommy believe him. He wasn’t supposed to add anyone else to the group. All he had as an excuse was Tommy’s unrelenting behavior and how immediate and stressed Hopper had sounded when he called. The excuse that maybe more help was necessary.

So Steve went to the shed and found a chain. A long iron chain that his father had used to hold the fence gate between theirs and the neighbors’ yards shut. He went back to the car with it in hand. When he sat back down Tommy stared wonderingly at it. Steve dropped it in his lap, the sound heavy as it slipped slowly to the car floor and clanked together.

“Can you still lasso?” he asked quietly. Didn’t want to trigger Tommy into some spell of hysterics.

Tommy swallowed and his eyes grew even more serious than before, “Yeah, yeah I can still lasso.”

Steve looked from the chain to Tommy’s face a few times, “Can you do to the same with that as you can a rope if we need you to?” He’d seen Tommy lasso, done some himself in the summers on the Hagan farm. Their small farm that housed loads of milk cows. It was a nice escape, mostly outdoors and their house was rundown only a little. Obviously warn from love and family and sweet time. Something real against the Harrington’s artificial capsule.

Tommy nodded again, “I can make it work.” When Steve didn’t catch Tommy’s eye for another minute or so, he started out to the Byers’ house. He could tell Tommy was trying to pay attention to the route but he kept messing with the chain. Steve knew he was forming it around to form the lasso correctly. Had seen Tommy sit on a bale of hay and mess with a rope the same way.

They pulled up to the dusty driveway and Tommy finally looked up with recognization, “Who exactly is involved in all this?”

Steve parked and neither of them moved, “Well, we’ve got all the Byers, Mike and Nancy Wheeler, Lucas Sinclair, Dustin, and Hopper”

Tommy glared over at him and opened his door, “What kind of shit have you gotten yourself into?”

Steve only smiled thinly and he stepped out to grab his bag from the backseat before heading up to the door. Hopper was smoking and watched him as Tommy slowly gathered his chain.

“What did you do now?” Hopper didn’t sound surprised.

Steve could only shrug, “He insisted.”

Hopper took a drawn out puff, “Well you should have resisted.”

Steve turned his neck to glimpse as Tommy closing the car door, “You trying resisting a Hagan and then get back to me.”

Hopper raised a brow and flicked the ash off the filter, “Just keep him by you and make sure he doesn’t get hurt. I don’t want to have to explain to his parents.”

Steve rubbed his upper arm as Tommy walked up to his side, “Why would I get hurt? And what’s wrong with my parents?” he ordered defensively.

Hopper sighed and squished the cherry out in an outdoor ashtray balanced on the porch railing, “Nothing, kid. Your father just doesn’t like me.”

Tommy muttered something Steve only just barely caught, “You just can’t leave an innocent drunk man alone on a Friday night.”

“What’s that?” Hopper’s eyes narrowed. Tommy folded his arms and didn’t respond, only shook his head once.

Steve looked between the two. He knew Tommy’s father liked to drink sometimes. Mostly after a long day working on harvesting hay bales and tending to their cows. Knew his mother and Tommy’s sisters hated when he did. Tommy didn’t know how to feel, got mad at Steve when he tried to sympathize. A few of their fights had ended in Tommy throwing the fact that Steve’s father was never really around back in his face. Yelling he wouldn’t understand. Couldn’t. Not the same way.

“What’s the code?” he asked to break the heavy tensions, to at least try. Instead a new sort of shadow surrounded them.

“Orange,” Hopper took his hat off and rubbed his forehead, “Looks like more strays are picking off cattle at night. We need to go catch them.”

Tommy perked up, “Cattle? So you do know what’s been picking our calves off?” he shouted. “What is it? Why are you hiding it from the town? Us farmers!” He was livid and when Steve touched his arm to comfort, it was whacked away. He stepped back, a bit betrayed. The adrenaline in Tommy must have picked up already. He only acted like this when he was wound up tight and angry. Hopper was silent for a long moment as Tommy huffed his breaths in and out, upset.

He turned around to the house and said, “You’re about to find out,” before the door opened and closed.

“What is going on, Harrington?” Tommy asked, desperate now. Desperate for answers he hadn’t asked for. Made Steve annoyed that he allowed himself to get pent up again. Out of control of himself, the opposite of what they’d been working on. He took Tommy’s hands gently, at least thankful for Tommy allowing that much.

“I need you to take a few deep breaths, Sweetheart,” he used his calm tone. Used it for the kids when they got too scared sometimes. “This isn’t going to get any easier, so if you want to step out, do it now.” He waited and Tommy didn’t move, didn’t really do anything besides stare at him. “Is that a no?”

“I’m not leaving,” Tommy stated stubbornly.

“No one would think any less of you,” Steve said deeply, “We all wish we didn’t have to deal with this shit. You can go back home, you wouldn’t be able to tell people about this. The government will confiscate you otherwise.”

Tommy scoffed, “So my father isn’t some crazy conspiracy theorist.” Steve didn’t answer, didn’t really want to, didn’t think he needed to.

“It’s scary, Tom.”

Tommy puffed out his chest, “I don’t care. I’m staying with you and that’s final.”

The door opened and Dustin started yelling, “Son of a bitch, why is he here, Steve? Get your ass in here, we need to start planning!” Steve turned and Dustin started attempting to drag him up the porch. “We’ve got target on three different farms tonight.” He stopped and Steve almost tripped on the last stop. He asked Tommy, “Dont you live on one?”

Tommy’s shoulders rose, “What’s it to you?” Dustin glanced at Steve, who was giving a warning glance, shrugged his shoulders and headed inside again.

Steve grabbed the door and held it open for Tommy, “Come on then!” Tommy ran up and into the house, the warm waft of heat blown into their faces. Joyce met them first, Dustin rushing back into the other room.

She eyes Tommy worriedly, “Did you tell him anything yet?” Steve shook his head. She wasn’t mad, she instead waved then in more, “Well then we have quite a bit to catch you up then, huh?” she smiled welcoming. Walked them in through to where everyone was already staring over a map of Hawkins. Red circles around what Steve assumed were the farms being threatened.

Nancy’s face twisted, “What’s up with this?” she gestured to Tommy and his chain clutched in his fist.

“He wants in,” Steve shrugged and stepped forward to look at the map between Hopper and Dustin, “Not like we couldn’t use the help.”

Nancy scowled, “We can manage.”

“Yeah,” Mike butted in.

Steve glared at her, “Let it go, Nance. He’s here and that’s it, please.” She looked at Johnathan but John looked at Tommy just as openly as his mother had.

“You know how to throw that?” he looked at the dark chain links.

Tommy nodded and pointed to the west circle, “That’s my farm. Well, my dad’s.” He looked sheepish, like he was admitting something.

“Cool,” Steve heard Will whisper.

Johnathan smiled more just as Nancy’s frown deepened, “Didn’t know you were in the lower levels like us.” Tommy frowned and Nancy scolded John with a slap to the arm. “It’s just cool is all,” he defended himself from her onslaught.

Tommy grew confused, “Cool?”

John nodded, “Tuff,” he grinned. Tommy smirked and eased down, comfortably joining Steve by his side.

“So do I get the backstory or what?” Everyone else looked at Hopper.

The man rolled his eyes but relented, “Keep up,” he pointed at Tommy gruffly. The boy nodded and Steve planted a grounding hand on his shoulder. “When Will went missing he was actually trapped in a different dimension. There’s El, who isn’t here right now, she was an experiment.” His voice with filled with distaste. “ She has powers, telekinesis. She’s resting right now so she can—“

“Which is stupid,” Mike snapped, “She’s not ready—“ Lucas and Dustin elbowed him to shut him up.

Hopper didn’t even look at the kids, “She’s getting ready to fight the bigger problem, the mindflayer. Something that likes possessing people. Watch out for that,” he tipped his hat back. “But there are big dogs from that other dimension sneaking in like your average coyote onto farms. So we have to go out and clean them out.” Steve eyed Tommy’s face which was stoney. Hopper turned back to the table and map when he fingered Tommy had at least taken all of what he said in through his ears to process eventually. “We’re hitting it by groups. Joyce and I will go to Merrill’s. Nancy, Johnathan, Will, and Mike are going to Tinnerman’s. Steve, Tommy, Dustin, and Lucas are at Hagan’s. Got that?” he looked around. When no one disagreed he backed away.

Steve took his bag off and set it on top of the map, “You still have that tire iron?” he asked Dustin as he took out his lighter.

“Yep,” the kid nodded, “Still behind the house, I’ll go get it,” he ran off.

Steve only had to look at Lucas for an answer, “Got my pockets full of rocks and marbles this time.”

Steve smiled small but assuring, “Good.”

Everyone walked off to retrieve their own weapons or start their own vehicles. Except Steve and Tommy. Tommy was pale and his eyes were greyish.

“Hey,” Steve rubbed a thumb across his freckled cheek, “What’s going on in your head?” he whispered.

Tommy looked up and took in a shaky breath, “I’m ready to kill some monsters?” The questioning tone didn’t surprise Steve, the words did though. He didn’t ask, didn’t want to over work Tommy’s mind already. Not when they still had a long night ahead.

===

The Hagan property was the smallest of the three Hawkins farms. Fencing behind them that was meant to keep cattle on grounds, then a big barn, then the Hagan house. But it wasn’t meant to be called “small” either. The cattle were safe in the barn as long as they all stayed attentive and ready to kill off any demodog invaders. Simple, all in a days work. But Tommy was shaking like a leaf and Steve heard rustling from their right.

He stepped ahead a few steps just as Dustin and Lucas yelled out at the shadow creeping out of the trees. Tommy cursed loudly, so much so Steve feared Tommy’s mother would wake from it all the way in the house. He swung his bat to stabilize himself and then went to town on the thing’s neck, back, and head. It went down quick and others started coming out more and more. Lucas slung-shot his own ammunition and Dustin kept them back with Steve’s lighter and a can of hairspray.

“Can you get that one, Tom?” he shouted over the growls of a new dog as one ran past him to the fence.

It was a pretty quick success all things considering. The carcasses laid around Steve in wide diameter, gunk sprung all over the grass and tree bark. But as silence carried no more sounds carried out from the darkness.

He faced the group, Dustin parking things back into Steve bag and pulling out water bottles. Lucas was trying to wipe the sweat from his face.

Then Steve caught sight of Tommy standing still. Too still. He panicked.

“Tom?” he whisper yelled as he ran up to him. Grabbed his arms and then his head, “Tommy, are you alright?” Tommy’s pale face reflected streaks of luminescent tracks in the moonlight. His eyes looked frozen wide. “Hey,” he wiped away the tears with his thumbs and made Tommy make eye contact. Which seems to blow him out of his stupor. He started breathing sporadically. Steve hugged him and started breathing in and out exaggeratedly. “Match me, Sweetheart,” he whispered. Breathed in and waited as Tommy matched it. Exhaled and patiently listened.

By the time Tommy was lax against him, exhausted and adrenaline all gone, Steve had decided they were done. He snapped his fingers to grab Lucas and Dustin’s attention.

“Yo, call Hopper and see what they’re up to, please,” he threw one of Tommy’s arms over his shoulders. Started leading them back to his car a little ways away. Tommy wouldn’t speak, Steve had the mind to assume he was in shock. Knew the feeling himself. But the amount Tommy was still partially immobile on his own was concerning. “Can you signal to me how your feeling, Tommy? What can I do for you?” he asked as he opened the car door and worked his boyfriend into the passenger seat. He knelt on the wet road, his jeans getting damp at the knees.

Tommy finally made eye contact on his own and pressed his lips together, “That was scary.” Steve nodded understandingly. Tommy continued, “This is fucked,” he sat back and forcibly enclosed Steve hand in between his own. Steve distantly heard Dustin yapping to someone on the walkie talkie. “How do you all do it?” he asked exasperatedly. He deflated and shook his head, lost, “How do you do it all? You were amazing back there, didn’t hesitate or flinch.”

Steve smiled and leaned up to give Tommy a kiss to the cheek, “No one is going to be upset with you Tommy. We don’t even have to mention it. The important thing is,” he stepped back, “That we’re all safe and the dogs are done with.”

“But—“

“We won’t hold it against you,” he promised and Tommy closed his mouth slowly. Nodding in agreement a little reluctantly.

Dustin was messing with the dials on the walkie when he left Tommy there, “I’m gonna go clean the mess up, you two get in the car and wait.

Lucas stepped up though, “I’ll help.” Steve gave him a look but he persisted, “Please?”

He rolled his eyes, “I guess you’d be better help than Dustin.”

“Hey!” the other scolded.

Lucas flicked him, “Please, you gag every time the goo gets on you.”

“I wonder why!” Dustin called back as he got into the car with Tommy.

===

It was a few weeks later and Tommy was a little more comfortable in the Party and their occasional missions to take out other dimensional monsters. Tommy was good with the chain when he wasn’t completely petrified. Caught and wrangled multiple dogs out of the way on occasions. Sure he stopped out a few time but they didn’t fight him about it. Knew he knew what he couldn’t handle.

He was teaching Will a thing or two now. They each sat on logs in the Byers’ backyard with ropes in their hands and on their laps. Steve watched as he leaned against the back door doorframe with Joyce. Johnathan had tried to follow along but had quickly knotted his bad. Had encouraged them both instead as Tommy directed Will step by step.

Then, Steve joined them as they worked on tossing and capturing low tree branches. Tommy lassoed them all and Steve got some. But Will grew his skills fast apparently because he was right behind Tommy, grasping all the practicing targets with concentrated ease.

Tommy fist bumped the kid and Steve used his height to pull the rope back down, “Good job, Byers!”

“I was actually good at it,” Will beamed proudly. Tommy slung an arm over Wills shoulders and headed towards the house as Joyce called for dinner.

“You know, you should come take Steve’s place on the farm over the summer.” Will bounced on the souls of his feet a bit at the excitement and giggled when Steve scoffed dramatically.

“I’m just rusty.”

Tommy chuckled, “Come on, Byers One and Byers Two, let’s leave the Rich Boy to clean up.” Will laughed and followed him loyally.

Johnathan stood with a definite nod, “Agreed.” Steve stopped to watch them race to the house like they were all young boys.

Tommy fit in just fine.

#steve harrington #tommy hagan #stommy #stranger things #will byers #jim hopper #johnathan byers #i’ll edit this more later but here! #hope it’s alright. i was unsure on how to end it but i didn’t want to keep you waiting even longer #:) <3

[americashielded-a]

Hey I bet you missed my OOC MCU rants. What’s that? You didn’t? Too bad I’m on another one anyway.

Okay but seriously setting any romantic ships and stuff aside can we just talk about this scene for a minute and why I think Steve and Nat’s friendship is probably the most important character relationship Nat has in the entire MCU, or at least the one that makes her grow the most as a person?

I’m still a bit upset they cut out the bit with her talking about finding her biological parents’ gravestones because I guess they wanted to save that mom mystery (that really didn’t amount to much in the end) for the Black Widow movie, but that aside, there’s so much important about this scene that speaks volumes about how far they’ve come and how close they are now.

Literally the only other member of The Avengers that was there was Sam, and I mean, of course he was, he’s Steve’s best pal and is only hanging around because of him, not to mention he’s not going to sign the Accords, but no matter how good friends he is with anyone else, literally nobody else goes to the funeral...except for Nat, and yes, she only shows up after Peggy’s funeral is done, but the fact that she was there to begin with says a lot, especially when it’s to talk to Steve. It was hard enough for her to watch Nick “die” (I never believed they actually killed him in TWS for a second tbh), but going to the funeral of someone she didn’t really know and without anyone else going with her? Even if you consider Peggy founded SHIELD, that actually would’ve made it harder for her because of the stuff that happened in TWS and what SHIELD meant to Nat. No, she wouldn’t normally go anywhere near that.

But just the fact that she knew what Steve was going through and couldn’t let him be alone, even being aware he wouldn’t change his mind on the accords even though she was going ask him one more time, and that she hugs and consoles Steve, and shows some of her own vulnerability at the same time...even if The Avengers are her family, she’d almost never show that sort of vulnerability to anyone else (and have it feel in character for her *coughAoUcough*) except maybe Clint and I just love this sort of growth for her, and this leading to her choosing her loyalty over the mission at the airport later on. Nat having this sort of connection with someone and trusting them this much is so rare for her, especially with the stuff she’s been through before, and that it means enough to her that she would let him and Bucky escape says so much about how close they are and just how much she values Steve.

And again, going back to the deleted part of that scene where she talks about going back home and finding her parents’ graves to make a point about being lucky to have what you do when you do have it, just to comfort him and sympathize with him on a level she’d probably be hesitant at the very least about letting almost anyone else see (except Clint, obviously) just displays how she’s changed as a character and how his friendship has left a big impact on her.

Also, I feel like without this moment and this friendship, some of Black Widow might not have happened, or at least, she wouldn’t have been as willing to let her first ‘family’ in so close again after so much time. I really feel like she needed someone like Steve to draw out that side of her and help her feel like she could leave all that red in her leger behind. 

The only reason I’m not talking much about Steve here is because I’ve already ranted about how she’s had a major impact on him before, and I’d like to keep this wall of text fairly small, if that’s what you can call this :’D Anyway that’s all for now.

#~I'm Always Honest~ ;; OOC

[thephantomofthe-internet]

Read into Me Chapter 5: Romeo and Juliet

Steve Harrington x Reader

CATCH UP ON THE SERIES HERE

Words: 2,955

Warnings: Swearing, slut shaming, bullying mention

Tag List: @divinity-deos @thecaptainsgingersnap​ @wolfish-willow​ @scoopsohboi​ @herre-gud-nej​ @clockworkballerina​ @maddie1504​ @i-am-trash-so-much-its-scary​ @banjino-in-the-hole @buckysarge​ @wildcvltre​ @stanleyyelnatsiii​ @unusuallchildd @n3wtscaseofniffler5​ @peterparxour @alwaysstressedout @linkispink1995​ @asharpkniffe​ @a-big-ball-of-idk​ @used-avocado​ @mochminnie​ @sledgy14​ @the-creative-lie​ @yall-wildin-like-siriusly​ @ggclarissa​

After that afternoon, you spent practically every day after school with Steve, either in his bedroom or the library. It was weirdly nice. You didn’t always talk; mostly you worked in silence, Steve answering English questions or doing work for other classes and you doodling. You’d finished the sketch of Steve you’d started in his bedroom the same night you’d started it. You were actually quite proud of it; you’d managed to get the shadows on his face to make his face look hollow and strange, not beautiful like it usually appeared. And yes, you were comfortable with calling him beautiful. You found a lot of your subjects beautiful, they all fit into an easy collection of strong, attractive faces that could be found in Hawkins. Hawkins Most Beautiful: the collections of portraits labelled themselves.

Steve called you fairly often as well; usually on the days when you didn’t meet up he’d call so he’d have someone to keep him company as he worked. He seemed lonely to you. From your conversations, you learned little of his supposed friends, but you learned a fair bit about his family. Both his parents were rarely home. His father worked in the city and kept an apartment there, keeping him as far away from home as possible most of the time. His mother was home more often, but kept her hours in certain places, leaving him home alone most of the time. So it seemed, he was ignored past the age of twelve. You sympathized with that, your own parents weren’t exactly present, albeit for different reasons. He asked you a lot about Samantha, which didn’t bother you; you could talk about her far more than you could yourself.

“I can’t honestly say that I even really know her…” Steve laughed. You were sat in his bedroom one evening, the sun setting in creamy red swirls, ominous strawberry pieces in homemade ice cream. Sweet and yet worrying for reasons beyond you for the time being. You were sat at his desk, leaning back in his desk chair, turning left and right. Steve was sprawled out on his mattress, feet kicking beyond him casually, his papers spread out in front of him.

“Yeah, she doesn’t really associate with some of your friends. Tina isn’t really our biggest fan…” you replied, smiling softly. The memory of Samantha dumping a miniature carton of chocolate milk on her head in the seventh grade flashed through your mind, her shrill screech making you chuckle.

“Oh yeah? What’s up her ass?” Steve asked, turning onto his side to look at you fully. He looked incredibly posed and uncomfortable, his head placed in his palm and his ankles stacked neatly one on top of the other.

“They used to be best friends, before I showed up. Once I was on the scene, Tina decided that I was someone to bully and Samantha decided that she wanted to be my friend. They fell out because of it and Tina started bothering both of us. She stopped once we were in middle school.” You explained, pulling one of your knees to your chest.

“Tina’s a bitch…” Steve muttered, shaking his head solemnly.

“She’s got such a thing for you.” You chuckled, watching as his face coloured. You continued “Vicki too…they want you so bad.”

“How’d you know?” Steve scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. His face was still pink, it was almost adorable.

“Oh my god, they spend every class with their heads so far up your ass!” you linked your fingers together and pulled them under your chin. You batted your lashes at him with wide eyes, starting into an imitation of Tina “Oh…Stevie, tell me more about your basketball game…oh Stevie you’re soooo strong!”

Steve pulled the pillow from the head of his bed, throwing it at your head. “Oh shut up!” he groaned. You caught the pillow, chucking it back at him, smacking him square in the face.

Steve was great to hang out with. But that sort of friendship didn’t seem to transition outside the privacy of his bedroom. In school, the rules of social interaction began again. Steve returned to the arms of Tommy H and Carol, whose attentions flip between him and Billy Hargrove, and Samantha kept you busy with her questions, her arm wrapped tightly around your shoulders, squeezing you tightly into your side. And every time you passed Steve, she cracked a joke in your ear that turned you beet red.

In truth, it was clear that Samantha did not believe you when you told her that nothing was going on between the two of you. She had already decided that the pair of you were in some sort of torrid affair of Shakespearian depths. She seemed to earnestly believe that it was some secret, clandestine romance was happening behind closed doors. You didn’t really understand what she was imagining; it didn’t make sense to you. Steve was far too obviously interested in other people to be doing anything with you. You tried to point out all the girls who hung off his arm whenever she tried to embarrass you about it, but she didn’t see it.

“What you’re missing,” she said through a massive bite of cafeteria shepherd’s pie “Is that all those girls pay attention to him, but he doesn’t pay attention to them.”

“If we were having an affair, don’t you think that I would tell you about it? I tell you everything anyway.” You retorted, rolling your eyes at her.

“You didn’t tell me about Byers until I weaseled it out of you. That’s what I’m doing right now.” Samantha replied with a shrug, mushing her meal together with her plastic fork until it was a disgusting shade of brown, golden corn accenting the pile.

Talking about Jonathan Byers wasn’t fair and she knew it. In short, there was nothing to talk about. You’d had a small, teeny tiny practically nonexistent crush on the boy a year prior, but it was very clear that he didn’t like you back. Samantha had gone to Tina’s party in October, right as your crush was subsiding, and she’d told you that he was all over Nancy Wheeler. You’d had your suspicions about it, but hearing that he’d gone after someone else’s girlfriend and rejected you along the way hurt. Even though you weren’t interested, it still hurt. Samantha was still annoyed that you hadn’t told her about it until it was over, and since it was the only source of knowledge she had on your comatose love life, she brought it up all the time, much to your chagrin.

“All I do with him is sit in his room and help him study. And when I say help him study, I mean literally help him study, we do the chapter studies together and discuss the stupid book.” You said. That wasn’t the whole story; you talked a lot about life and listened to music. You were confident in saying that you were friends by now. You’d almost met his mother twice, both times in passing, and that seemed pretty important to friendships, when their family knew who you were. Still, it didn’t break into school. Steve stayed with his clique and while you tried to stray from yours, Carol or Tina would always scare you off before you spent too much time with Steve. It didn’t take much to scare you, a mere gaze could send you packing, and those two had been mastering the annoyed sneer since the fifth grade.

“Yeah, well you don’t see what I see…” Samantha muttered, turning her attention away from you and onto the loud clique at the centre of the room. Billy Hargrove was show boating, as usual, with Tina and Macy practically drooling onto their lunch trays. Vicki was trying to get Steve’s attention, her thin, spidery fingers gripping onto his wrists, speaking animatedly into his ear. Steve wasn’t facing her though; his whole body was turned away from her, and directly towards your table. Samantha noticed how he watched where you went, it’s why she thoroughly believed that something was going on beyond the surface, something even you might not realize. She knew what a person looked like when they were love struck. Often times, from the outside, it was easier to see when someone was in love with someone else before she could catch onto who actually liked her. She’d watched the women she yearned for fall in love with boring, lame men enough times to have mastered the signs of how men fall for girls. And Steve showed all the non-verbal signs. She couldn’t get a full read on you yet though.

Tommy had caught onto to Steve’s strange behaviour just as fast as Samantha had, although he wasn’t nearly as impressed. You were simply not worth the effort. Not by a long shot. You were fucking lame-never at the parties, never at dances, never at the lake on the weekends. And he knew you had money, you could afford to do all those things, you were just too much of a pussy to show your face. That was fucking pathetic! He knew his friend better than anyone else and a chick who couldn’t hang was not the girl for him. Steve liked fun girls, girls who could turn up for a last minute thing and not be weird about it. Nancy Wheeler was the farthest Steve needed to go on the preppy nerd scale, and that bitch ended up being a massive slut! Like nobody expected that shit. But Tommy knew that you didn’t have any surprises up your sleeves. Despite the fact that you never talked, he knew that you were plain about who you were. Everything was on the surface, and what he saw was not worth his friend’s time.

“Steve, buddy, I’m gonna go get another milk, walk with me.” Tommy motioned him over. Steve followed blindly, if only to get Vicki’s cold, clammy hand off him. Tommy had seen The Godfather one too many times and seemed to believe that he was some sort of small town mob boss, but Steve didn’t really mind following along with him flights of fancy. Usually they were pretty funny.

Tommy wrapped an arm around his taller friend’s shoulders, lowering his voice from the onlooker’s ears. “Listen, buddy, you gotta tell me what’s going up with that Y/N chick I mean you just keep staring at her it’s freaking weird, dude.”

“Y/N? She’s my writing partner for Lawrence’s class, she’s cool…” Steve replied, turning to catch your eye as they passed. He smiled at you, giving a short wave, which you returned with a small smile.

“She’s cool? That all?” Tommy pressed, stepping into the line and grabbing a carton of strawberry milk and the largest chocolate chip cookie in the basket. He unwrapped his arm from his shoulders, letting him go free for the first time in the conversation.

“Yeah, I mean she’s nice, what else do you want me to say?” Steve knew that was being a little defensive, but he didn’t like being questioned for his choices in friends or girls, he never questioned Tommy’s choices and he made the worst decisions most of the time. Carol was no prize and he didn’t say a word about her.

“You fucking her?” if Steve had had anything in his mouth, he would’ve spit it on the floor. Tommy didn’t even turn to look at him, paying the lunch lady in change.

“Jesus, dude, no.” Steve cried, recoiling from his friend. Tommy needed to get hit and while he didn’t have cause to do so yet, he firmly believed someone was going to do it soon.

“Hey, no need to freak out, it’s just a question.” Tommy pulled his friend back in, slapping his friend on the back. Instead of simply heading back to their lunch table, he pulled him to the side, standing next to the hot grab and go table, next to the cartons of fries.

“Now, the way I see it, you have something great going for you.” Tommy began, cracking open his milk and taking a long swig, leaving a milk film on his upper lip. “Vicki Clarke is a fucking babe and she’s begging for it! She’s all over your ass and she’s hot as hell! But you’re blowing it by spending all your time staring at some freak of nature instead. You could have a smoking hot babe at your beck and call, but you’re wasting your chances here, you see what I mean?”

“Not at all, dude.” Steve crossed his arms over his chest, looking over his friend doubtfully.

“Look man, I’m just trying to set you up for success here. Because that girl,” Tommy pointed at you slyly “Is not interested. If she was, she’d be over here, acting like Vicki is. But she’s keeping herself planted at that table with that goth freakazoid.”

Steve had no idea what to say. He opened his mouth to speak, to deny having any feelings for you, but that wouldn’t mean shit if he kept watching you. And Tommy was right, there was a girl there who wanted to listen to whatever he said, who chased him down. Vicki was there and you weren’t. So he swallowed his words and went back to his table.

“Hey, Steve…” Vicki drawled. There was red lipstick on her teeth. Steve didn’t say anything about it. It didn’t make her ugly. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, letting her rest in the crook of his neck. Vicki seemed over the moon by it and it gave him something to focus on other than catching your attention.

Samantha frowned, turning her attention back to you. “What’s Steve’s opinion on Vicki Clarke?” she asked.

“He didn’t like when I told him that she had a thing for him, why?” you retorted, flipping through the college magazine in front of you. You still hadn’t chosen anywhere to apply and applications for the major schools were due in the winter and community colleges needed their applications in for the fall semester in by the end of June at the earliest.

“Well, he doesn’t seem embarrassed now.” Samantha hooked a thumb towards the couple. You looked once, narrowing your eye to scrutinize the pair.

“Eh, that seems about right…” you murmured. You wouldn’t deny that something about it hurt. But you ignored the pain until returning home from school. As always, you called before making any moves. It was the polite thing to do, even though Steve had made the plans to meet up with you after school the night before.

The phone was picked up after three rings. Steve’s car was in the driveway, not his mother’s, so you knew who would answer. “Hello?” his voice sounded anxious and breathy, maybe even annoyed.

“Steve-o, we still studying? You wanna go grab food at Hula Burger?” Steve had introduced you to the burger place in Carmel, a little mom and pop shop with the best Cajun fries in the county, at least in your opinion.

“Oh shit…” Steve muttered “Y/N I’m sorry I-I kind of made plans, can I take a rain check on the burgers?”

“Oh…yeah, sure I guess…some other time…” you said softly. You wouldn’t try to hide the disappointment in your voice. The pain you felt in the pit of your stomach returned with abundance, not exactly sore and angry pain, but more of a black hole opening up there.

“I gotta go, I’ll see you tomorrow, ‘kay?” Steve asked. He was already running late. He was supposed to pick up Vicki in twenty minutes and he still needed to shower. He had genuinely forgotten about his plans with you and he felt like an ass for doing so. He did want to hang out with you, but a date was a good step after being decimated by Nancy. He wasn’t super into Vicki, but it was still exciting to go out with someone new.

“Sure…” you hung up after that. You stood from your bed, dropping your book bag at your feet. You were used to spending afternoons alone, that wasn’t strange to you. Just because you’d spent a few days with a boy didn’t mean that he was yours to hold back from his life. You could’ve pulled a fit and tried to make him hold true to his word, the way your mother used to act towards your father. But those memories made you sick, you didn’t like that behaviour. But you also didn’t like being cancelled on. It wasn’t a feeling you were used to, not from friends at least. Samantha never really cancelled on you, she always made sure to tell you when she was busy and not agree to plans. She’d never cancelled on you for a date, even when she was dating Keith the creep she always put your friendship on a different level than him. Of course, she wasn’t really into Keith, she came out like a week after they started dating and broke up with him after kissing Jessica Klein at a house party, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that Steve had ditched you and it made your heart hurt.

You couldn’t help but watch him run out of his front door and into his car. You watched it pull out of his driveway and out onto the road. It was clear to you now, Steve was more interested in passing English than he was in being your friend. Vicki Clarke was the girl to pay attention, no matter how he acted around you.

So why pretend like he was your friend at all?

#stranger things #stranger things 2 #stranger things 3 #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve x you #steve x reader #steve x y/n #steve x reader insert #steve harrington x reader insert #steve harrington headcanons #steve harrington hc #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington au #steve harrington aus #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fluff #netflix #joe keery

[anakinisvaderisanakin]

Tony Stark Is An Emotional Man - My Unpopular(?) Take

So, I’m rewatching the MCU - because of course I am - and I just realized something watching The Avengers for the first time in probably 10 years.

While everyone believes Tony is a prick - and don’t get me wrong, he is 60% attitude in a small package - until he saves the damn planet; the statement he gives to Banner about the Hulk saving him is very heartfelt. He opens up about his own condition with the shrapnel, which is a rare moment of him being openly vulnerable - especially in the earlier phase of the MCU. He is being genuine, and he is trying to make Banner see the positives and understand that perhaps, the situation isn’t as bleak as he’s been thinking.

Tony is trying to provide help, to comfort Banner; not for his own gain but because he recognizes himself in Banner, in spite of their very different ways of handling their inner demons, and their wildly differing personalities. Because he knows what it’s like to lose your way and your self worth, and he wants to see Banner regain some sense of himself the same way he has.

It’s nice to see the kind side to Tony, and for him to expose it willingly to help a fellow team mate - and eventually friend - accept himself and his inner struggle. Tony does not get credit enough for the fact that he always did have that side to him, he just didn’t know how to show it. Even his jokes and snarky sarcasm get less “mean spirited” as he evolves, and grows as a person.

I feel like Iron Man 2 coupled with The Avengers (and of course Iron Man 3 added onto that) are a perfect portrayal of how Tony’s more outward sense of caring for people, despite his awkward sense of socializing, was already beginning to shine through the cracks.

To me, Tony Stark is by far the most compelling character because while I am not entirely like him, I recognize so much of myself and my own hardships. It’s never too late to reinvent yourself, and Tony is the perfect metaphor for that. He even directly likens himself to a phoenix in Iron Man 2, although played for laughs at the Stark Expo.

But not only that, later on in the movie when Steve insinuates that Tony is not a hero, that he would never sacrifice himself on behalf of another; that he fights for himself alone, and tells him he's basically nothing without the suit - you can see it's hurting him. Tony never really holds eye contact unless it's worth while; unless it's getting to him and requires his full attention coming from someone he truly trusts, unless it means something. You see him keep his eyes off of everybody in social situations before he knows them or they have earned his respect; you see him avoiding getting in neck deep, avoiding and brushing off comments on his distant persona.

But that insult right there; from the man his father would rave about, that's taking. You see the pain in his eyes, you see the fact that he's being torn open. You see that he's brought right back to who he once was, reliving the guilt of every mistake he ever made. All because of Steve's judgmental, misguided perception of him. Tony hides his true self; hides his suffering, and his internal grappling with his shame and guilt over every problem and death he's directly or indirectly caused. The fact that Steve Rogers - of all people, as the revered Captain America - cannot see through his surface disguise is really getting to him. I believe Tony had assumed Steve would be superhuman, and he's struck by the realization that Steve is no more human than he himself is. He has imperfections, and flaws, and jumps to conclusions.

And the fact that it is Steve, of all people, making these assumptions of him and taking these jabs at him makes it all the worse. You need only watch for Tony keeping eye contact throughout the verbal onslaught to know it's hitting home; and to know that Tony feels, Tony knows this is what people all initially think of him. He had just hoped that somebody as subjectively righteous and morally good as Steve would have the ability to see through the facade. The fact that he doesn't, and that he doesn't hold back on his opinion, is what hits the hardest.

Another point is when Fury informs the remaining team of Coulson's (faked) death. Tony doesn't look at anyone, he sits turned completely away from the conversation. You can see he's close to losing it, and if he were to speak, if he were to look up, were to make any sort of eye contact directly - he would crack. That's one thing I love about RDJ's portrayal of Tony; the fact that he is so terrified of showing his vulnerable side in front of others, even when he is grieving or blaming himself for any mishap. He feels like he has to be the strong one, like he has to keep it together. Not for himself as much as for everyone else - because if the unfeeling, arrogant Iron Man breaks, how are any of the other team mates going to make it?

If Tony of all people reveals he takes it harder than almost anyone else present, how are they going to see him as the same man? I love how it is only later in the MCU, that he exposes this side of himself more willingly and freely - like in Endgame where he mentions how he lost “the kid” while referring to Peter. He not only maintains eye contact with Steve as he admits that, he chokes up. This same theme is prevalent between them in Civil War when Tony asks Steve to lay down his guard and hand over Bucky, “because it’s us” - which is a testament to the fact that Tony has now accepted Steve as a friend and ally, and this betrayal of his hard earned trust is breaking his heart. But this early on, none of this has become a valid option to him yet. So he keeps it inside; refusing to show his true colours.

And in this moment, what does he do when it gets too much? When he's required to speak up, to acknowledge Fury's mention of The Avengers project? He ups and leaves. Because if he speaks; judging by the eyes alone (which is yet another credit to Robert) he's going to tear up. And hence, he walks out to get it under control, to reil himself back in. It’s a habit he throughout the franchise will begin to display less and less; as he learns to be more comfortable with the team as friends, as well as openly displaying his own emotions.

We see another side to this later when Steve approaches Tony alone one on one; and Tony initially attempts to make quips about how Coulson shouldn't have gone alone, how he was an outgunned idiot. Steve cuts straight to the core, and Tony snaps. You see him nearly tear up, you see how upset he truly is deep down and how he was only doing his best to play it off the only way he knows how. But as soon as he is spoken to, is forced to make an assessment, to actually talk about it; to look Steve in the eye and defend himself - that's the exposed vulnerability that is the real Tony Stark.

Behind the snarks, behind the facade, behind the charade of the arrogant, nonchalant prick he’s been trying to make the world see him for. He's as human as he could ever be; and I believe this is also the first time Steve notices that there is more to Tony than he had presumed. He too, had assumed Tony is too wrapped up in his own ego and lavish life resume to care for the smaller man. But here, he sees that Tony feels, Tony sympathizes, and Tony is deeply traumatized by the fact that he - as he feels - allowed this to happen. He sees that Tony believes this is on his conscious.

Tony's glassy eyes and emotional turmoil betray him, and even though he jumps right back to his intellect and brains as a safety net and a defense mechanism - addressing Loki's plan to hit them at home and split them apart - this is the first time Steve is exposed to Tony's determination, ability to assess and deduce the situation, as well as his belief in doing the right thing (another theme seen later in Age of Ultron regarding Tony’s creation of Ultron himself, as well as in Civil War where Tony is adamant that the Sokovia Accords are the right path to take to pay for the critical mistake Ultron turned out to be.) And as they assemble, you're struck with the realization that this has been enough of an eye opener for Steve to realize that there is more to Tony Stark than meets the eye.

And who is first to the tower, leading the charge if not Tony?

And despite his blind faith in his own skill and ability to stall Loki just long enough; there's the epitome of the courage Tony possesses. He knows that without the suit, he has no fighting chance. He knows Loki could snap his neck in the blink of an eye. And still, he never backs off. Indeed, there is an underlying death wish or at the very least a sense of him subconsciously feeling he deserves and is fated a grim deminse - but it does take unprecedented bravery to put yourself in such clear danger.

Tony Stark could be called many things; but a coward is not one of them. Sure, he does have the untested suit on hold, but he did not know 100% it was going to work as planned. He was counting on it, but you know a part of him knew it was a long shot and might not work out in the end. The suit could have been faulty, Loki could have cracked his head open; the cavalry could have been running late. Still, Tony gambles with his life and luckily barely comes out on top.

At last, we have the finale. What can be said about it, except the fact that it shows exactly who Tony truly is? He knows he's going to die - indeed he doesn't - but he is intent on that, he is accepting death and welcoming it. If it helps save the world, if it will keep Pepper and everyone he loves, everyone he knows; everyone alive safe.

Here, the decision from the first Iron Man to actually show us Tony's eyes and face behind the mask is a godsend. Seeing as RDJ is an actor who communicates so much of his emotional range with his eyes only; we are given an easy access to see everything Tony is experiencing flash through them. We see the fear, the pain, the uncertainty; the acceptance of the inevitable. We see his eyes convey the jumbled mass of conflicting emotions speeding through his mind, we see how he finally just relents and gives in to what he thinks is going to be his time of dying. His final moments.

And he has made them worthwhile, he has already achieved what Yinsen begged of him in that cave in Afghanistan - he has made his survival count. He has saved numerous lives, and if his death is what it takes - so be it. Cue the parallel to Endgame. Hell, even Age of Ultron has elements of this as previously mentioned; although that one was on Tony himself, and his irrevocable fear and flaws as a human being. However, here the team sees Tony's will to sacrifice himself firsthand, for the first time; and contrary to Steve's initial assessment that Tony would never put his life on the line for anyone but himself - he does just that.

This is what makes this movie so powerful.

Sure, it builds upon every team member’s arc; even Fury's. But it is Tony who proves himself above all; who shows the team what we the audience already knew. That he is a hero, that our past does not define us. That Tony Stark feels, that he knows right from wrong although he's still stumbling blind half the time - just like the rest of us. And it proves to Steve - to the entire team - that he is not merely the selfish, arrogant asshole only sticking up for himself. He is a man, albeit a flawed one, who cares deeply. Who feels, who mourns, who appreciates life and the people around him; and who is - behind the barrier he's placed between himself and everyone else to avoid getting hurt - extremely insecure. He is fearful, apprehensive, sensitive, and well aware of his shortcomings.

And Tony Stark is, first and foremost, a good man.

Repost from my previous blog.

#tony stark #iron man #discourse #meta #tony #stark #anthony stark #rdj #robert downey junior #mcu #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #infinity saga #the avengers #my take #hot takes #cause i love tony #fight me

[fangirlovestuff]

Holding Out for a Hero- Steve Rogers x Reader Pt.3

a/n- hey lovely people!  stay safe and enjoy this one!

italics are as always for thoughts/dreams. also, it you’re reading please leave a like or reblog, it would make my day! <3

summery: You’re finally gonna find out why you’re here, at the Avengers compound!

part 2

You followed her silently. If they wanted to give you a spy mission, they would be disappointed. You knew you had no spy qualities whatsoever, so surely they did as well. Heck, you were a psych major. You entertained the possibility they wanted you to be the team shrink. Imagine that, you nearly snorted out loud at that mental image.

You entered a small room. Looked like it was some sort of a conference room.

"Sit."

You sat down, Natasha taking the seat opposite you. "Let's cut to the chase. Do you know why you're here?" You shook your head no. "Seriously? No idea?" You gave her an exasperated look. "Okay."

She opened a file that was resting on the table. "We can skip over the boring details- name, age, blah blah… ah, here it is. Your mission-- "

"Should I choose to accept it", you added humorously. You were fidgeting on the edge of your seat. "Don't interrupt me." She deadpanned and continued. "Your mission is Risk Assessment. Don't," she held her hand up, "questions when I'm finished."

"It means they found you capable of analyzing people, making sure how dangerous they really are, to us or to themselves. Sure, if they are openly holding a weapon it's not hard to tell, but some people like mind games, and they weaponize them. Others are just mentally disturbed. We've had a couple of run-ins with people like that lately, which I'm guessing is why they hired you. As a psych student who has good instincts, you should be able to identify such people and notify your team, which is us, before the threat blows up, figuratively but also could be literally. You'll come with us on missions where we think it's useful to have someone like you, so you'll need to at least be able to hold your own until we can swoop in and save you, so you will train for that. Risk Assessment is pretty risky itself. I'm actually pretty surprised they gave that to a newbie. You must be good then," she smiled and gave you a moment to digest all of the new information.

You sat in silence. After a few moments, Natasha broke it. "Questions?"

You knew she was probably expecting some professional questions about the job. You had those too, but you couldn't help but ask "Why me? I mean, I'm grateful to work with you guys, don't get me wrong, but aren't there people who would be better at this than me? People with PhDs maybe?"

"Maybe. Look, I'm not in charge of the HR department. But I do know if they chose you they had a good reason. Not anyone can work with the Avengers, "she explained. "Some are shady and could potentially leak information, some have a very strong potential leverage against us, like a bad past or big family that lives with them. Some just probably wouldn't get along with the team dynamic. Your family lives away, you don't have a criminal past, and when you quit your job no one will know where you are." At that your head snapped up at her, staring with wide eyes. "Oh it’s fine, the Avengers pay great. And you didn't really think you could keep working when you're an Avenger, did you? Being secretive is in the job description." She showed you the file, pointing to a clause that said something about "concealing information from civilian associates". You nodded at her, satisfied with the explanation. "And you seem like you'll get along with the rest of us just fine." She smiled at you, warm and assuring. You almost forget she was a trained assassin, you mused. "If they picked you, it means you're the best person for the job. More questions?"

"Yes. So I'm gonna live at the compound now? What about the others - will they? How often will I go on missions? And when is my dog gonna be here?"

"Okay, relax. One question at a time. Because you are going on missions with us you'll have to train and prep for that, so your job is pretty much full time, which also means you'll have to quit your current job. In regards to your question, while we can't force you to live here, it is very recommended. It's a long commute from your apartment to here," she smirked, "also, this the safest place for you to be. The same goes for the others. You have a choice."

You thought it over a couple of moments. It really was the safest place for you to be, so you felt like you should take the offer. Also, you might get a glance at Steve walking around shirtless, supplied the annoying part of your brain. Shut up, said the rational part of your brain. To Natasha you said "okay, I'll probably live here. What about my other questions?"

"The frequency of your missions depends mainly on you, and a bit on us as your team. As much as we would like that not to be the case, there are still bad guys in the world. Probably always will be. As an Avenger, your duty id to catch as many as them as you can, before they hurt anyone. So as long as you're in the physical and mental state to go on a mission and we need you, you'll be expected to come with us."

"Yeah, that sounds fair. What about my dog? And now that I'm going to live here, my clothes and stuff?"

"Your dog should be here by the end of the day." She smiled at your palpable relief and continued, "When I notify Tony you'll be staying here, he'll send for your stuff, so they should be here in a day or two. In the meantime, we can supply you with anything you need, just ask. Anything else?"

"that's it for now, thank you. If I have more questions who should I ask?"

"Anyone of us is fine. You can ask Jarvis where we are, or just ask him actually. And one last thing – you can talk to your teammates about your mission, but not to anyone else, and preferably not out of the compound. It's pretty obvious but still really important."

You nodded, "Yes, of course. Thank you." You smiled at her.

You walked back to the elevators. You were feeling a bit hungry, so you asked Natasha where you could get some food. "The common floor has a kitchen." "Thanks."

You exited the elevator into the common floor. Seemed like your teammates had the same idea as you, seeing as they were sitting on the sofas in the room, some open snacks being passed between them. You did a quick headcount to find that everyone was here. Including yourself, you newbies were three women and two men. The men seemed fine, and the woman you didn't know yet looked beautiful.

"Hey!" Julia noticed you standing and called you over. "Come here! How was it? Who briefed you?"

"first of all, can I have some of that?" you sat down next to Julia and pointed to the bag of chips she was holding. She handed them to you, looking at you expectantly.

"I think it went okay. Natasha briefed me. I'm doing Risk Assessment." You explained your job and they all listened. "What about you guys? Honestly, I still don't even know your names, so tell me about you all."

The guy who sat next to Sam on the plane introduced himself as Michael, "but call me Mike," he added. He said he was going to work in Research & Development, as he had a knack for tech, and that Sam briefed him. "Sam told me he didn't really understand all the tech-y words in my file, so he just let me read the part myself," Mike laughed. "He seems like a great guy."

The other guy introduced himself as Oliver. He said Rhodey briefed him, and that he was working as a mechanic. He seemed like a quiet guy, and didn't add anything else.

The pretty woman turned out to be Isabelle. She said she was one of the few people that survived a set on illegal experiments to study the affects of the super-soldier serum. "I'm probably not as strong as Captain America or the Winter Soldier, but I can hold my own in a fight. I'm going to go on missions with the Avengers!" She laughed disbelievingly. She said Bucky briefed her, and that he was sweet as sympathized with her about was she'd been through.

Julia said she was indeed going to work on the law side of the Avengers. You were happy for her, because it seemed she was very good at what she did and it wasn't a dangerous job. Pepper briefed her, and she said Pepper was truly a great woman and enjoyed talking to her a lot. "I'm sure if I get her to be friends with me, she'll totally dish about the Avengers. Or maybe even if we're not friends, she seems really frustrated with them." We all laughed at that.

"Hello," said a mechanical British voice. "I'm Jarvis. It's great to meet you all. For your information, dinner will be served soon, so you might want to head to the first floor."

"Thank you!" you all said in unison. "It will definitely take me some time to get used to that," Isabelle laughed and you agreed.

You all made your way to the first floor, to have your first meal as official Avengers.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #natasha romanoff #avengers #avenger!reader #chris evans #steve rogers imagine #mcu fic

[tomeandflickcorner]

Falcon And Winter Soldier Episode 5- My Thoughts

Oh boy,  this one might be a bit longer than usual.  There’s a lot to go through in this episode. As always, spoilers under the cut.

It immediately picks up after Walker brutally murdered Nico in that crowded square. We see he’s taken off running, and ends up in some deserted warehouse of some kind.  For a moment, you almost think he’s starting to grasp the gravity of what he’s done, but he’s then plagued by memories of his time with Hoskins, which only leads to him further slipping into insanity and convincing himself that he did what was necessary. That’s when Bucky and Sam enter the scene.  They quickly figure out that Walker’s off his rocker.  Particularly when Walker tries to justify his actions by claiming that Nico was the one who killed Hoskins, even though it was clear that Karli was the one who killed him. They do their best to try and help him realize that revenge is not the same as justice, but Walker isn’t willing to listen.  Sam, slipping into councilor mode, attempts to calm him down. Unfortunately, if his words were having any affect on Walker, it all went downhill fast when Sam told Walker to hand the Shield over to them. Because Walker firmly believed the Shield was his rightful property, so he was not about to willingly give it up.  So Bucky and Sam have no choice but to take the Shield back by force.  At one point during this fight, Bucky gets momentarily dazed upon getting thrown into some sort of circuit breaker box, which also seems to briefly cause his vibranium arm to short-circuit.  Of course, Sam can’t really hold his own against a crazed Super Soldier one-on-one for long, and Walker eventually has him pinned to the ground.  He even destroys Sam’s Falcon wings.  But just before Walker could actually kill Sam- yeah, he was actually about to kill Sam there!- Bucky recovers and rejoins the fight.  Together, Sam and Bucky manage to pry the Shield away from Walker’s tight grip.  Though they have to break his arm in the process. But even then, Walker isn’t backing down.  Because he still firmly believes HE is Captain America.  It takes a pretty awesome combo move from Bucky and Sam to take Walker down. Because not even a Super Soldier can withstand getting swung into a jet-packed fueled blow from the Shield.  With Walker defeated, Bucky pretty much places the Shield at Sam’s feet, effectivly giving it to him once again, before walking off without a word.

So, after that pretty epic battle, the episode allows the characters, and the viewing audience, a chance to catch their breaths. Karli and the Flag Smashers have pretty much gone underground, making it impossible for anyone to locate them. Not that the government doesn’t try, as they conduct raids to all the GRC facilities that housed them, and even arrest the people that offered them shelter.  But still, no sign of Karli anywhere.  So Bucky and Sam decide there’s not much more they can do, particularly since they’ve been benched by the government officials.  Even so, Sam still wants to do what he can in seeing this whole thing to the end. So he asks his friend and associate, Joaquín Torres (who we haven’t seen since Episode 2), to keep him posted. Although, Sam also leaves his broken wingsuit with Joaquín. Which is probably a reference to the fact that Joaquín took up the mantle of Falcon after Sam in the comics.

Of course, there’s still the loose end of Zemo.  Bucky manages to track him down in Sokovia, at the memorial that was put up in honor of everyone who died there during the events of Age of Ultron.  Which does make sense, since Zemo’s wife and children were among the casualties.

Now, I gotta pause for a moment to talk about something here.  During the Previously On segment for this episode, we got reminded of a scene from a previous episode, in which Zemo seemed to be trying to shame Sam and Bucky for not ever visiting the memorial themselves.  Maybe it’s me, but that seems kinda unfair.  For starters, Bucky and Sam weren’t even involved during the events of Age Of Ultron.  With Sam, I don’t think he was officially an Avenger at that point.  He was part of the reserve team, if anything.  And Bucky was in Romania, trying to reacquaint himself with his true identity while hiding from both the CIA and what was left of Hydra. Even if that wasn’t the case, when exactly were they supposed to visit the memorial?  As of the events of Civil War, Sam was on the run as a fugitive alongside Steve and Natasha.  And Bucky was in Wakanda, either in cryofreeze or going through mental rehabilitation.  And then they both got dusted at the end of Infinity War, meaning they were erased from existence for the next five years.  So when exactly could they have visited the Sokovia Memorial to pay their respects? Of course, I do get what the episode was trying to say, since the Avengers didn’t really do much in offering Sokovia any sort of relief efforts.  (Though you could also argue that Tony should have been the one to handle that, considering the whole situation with Ultron was his own fault.  And goodness knows he had the monetary means to do something, with him being the billionaire and all. But I guess that’s all semantics.)

Anyway, Zemo tells Bucky that the only way they can hope to stop Karli now is by killing her, but Bucky tells him they’re going to try to do things their own way.  At this point, Bucky aims a gun at Zemo’s head.  But it’s soon revealed that Bucky had previously made sure the gun was already empty when he shows that he’d removed the bullets beforehand. Which I guess was his way of showing Zemo that he was wrong about him.  And that Bucky, despite being an enhanced individual (something that Zemo clearly hates), still chose to spare his life.  At this point, the Dora Milaje show up, with the intention of bringing Zemo to the Raft, that prison we last saw in Civil War.  Before Zemo is escorted off, he tells Bucky he took the liberty of crossing his name out of Bucky’s book, and that he doesn’t blame Bucky for doing what he thought was right.  Wow, how magnanimous of him, right?  Shame he couldn’t have extended this same level of courtesy towards the rest of the Avengers.

Still, I guess this means we’ve seen the last of Zemo.  At least for now.  Eh, good riddance, I say.  I personally hope we never see him again,  While I do sympathize that he lost his family, I still don’t like him in the slightest.  On the other hand, I did like that Ayo indicated that Bucky is at least partially forgiven for helping break Zemo out of jail.  Sure, she does tell him that he should still stay away from Wakanda for the time being, but she is calling him White Wolf again. Which indicates that their friendship wasn’t broken beyond repair.  Before they part ways, however, Bucky tells Ayo that he has one more favor to ask of her.

Here, the episode begins to focus on Sam as he begins to head back home to Louisiana.  But first, he makes a detour back to Baltimore, in order to sit down and really talk with Isaiah. Which enables us to really learn exactly what happened with him in the 1950s.  Turns out, he didn’t get injected with the Super Serum knowingly  He and a few other Black men were essentially used as guinea pigs, in which they were told they were being given tuberculosis shots or something when it was actually an experimental recreation of the Super Serum.  But it seems that, for some reason, the other Black test subjects begin displaying some manner of unfortunate side effects to the Serum, which suggested it wasn’t stabilizing with them.  Only Isaiah was able to successfully transition into a true Super Soldier like Steve Rogers.  So when the other Black test subjects were captured behind enemy lines (because this was the time of the Korean War), the US government were simply planning to drop bombs on the POW camps, in order to prevent word of their little experiment from getting out.  When Isaiah found out what they were planning, he took it upon himself to get those men out of there, in a similar manner to what Steve did in the first Captain America movie.  Except he was rewarded for his bravery by being locked up like a criminal, with the US government conducting experiments on him to try and figure out why the Super Serum worked with him and not the other test subjects.  They even told Isaiah’s wife that he was dead while making sure he never received any of the letters she’s sent him.  In the end, Isaiah only escaped because this nameless nurse took pity on him and helped him escape by essentially faking his death.  This backstory really is sad and tragic, especially when you realize it’s partially based on an actual historical event.  Just try looking up the Tuskegee Experiment sometime.  It’s really messed up.  Anyway, Isaiah finishes his sad story by telling Sam that, regardless of what he might believe, the world hasn’t changed that much.  And that not only will the world never accept a Black man as Captain America, no self-respecting Black man would even attempt to take up the mantle because of how America has always treated men like them.

With that advice still weighing on his mind, Sam returns home to rejoin his sister, Sarah, and his two nephews, AJ and Cass.  So now we’re getting back to the subplot from the first episode, involving the failing family-run fishing business.  It seems Sarah is still thinking it’s time to throw in the towel and simply sell their family’s fishing boat.  The main issue with that is, because it’s all run down and in need of serious repair, nobody would even consider buying it.  Fortunately, Sam has an idea.  Remembering how their parents, who apparently died some time ago, had been long-standing pillars in the community and had often offered aid to their neighbors, Sam makes a few phone calls and gets the whole community to come pitch in and help repair the old fishing boat, thereby repaying the previous kindness of Sam and Sarah’s late parents.  One of the neighbors even comes by with a brand new engine for the fishing boat. But then, just as Sam is wondering how they’re going to manage getting the heavy-looking boat engine off the back of the truck, Bucky appears out of nowhere, using his Super Soldier strength to effortlessly lift the motor up over his shoulders.

Bucky explains his presence away, stating he’s only there to drop off a crate for Sam, which clearly came from the Wakandans.  It’s implied the contents of the crate have something to do with the favor he asked of Ayo.  But then, Bucky ends up sticking around to help Sam fix up the fishing boat.  Cue a boat repairing montage, complete with a song playing over the whole sequence.  Bit bizarre we’re getting something like this in the penultimate episode, but it’s still pretty enjoyable.  Particularly since we get to see Bucky and Sam actually bonding as themselves.  And yes, there does seem to be vague implications that there might eventually be something between Bucky and Sarah.  Although, I don’t know if I necessarily ship it.  At least not yet.  I’d need to see more of them interacting with each other besides just seeing Bucky saying ‘hi’ to her a few times before I make up my mind.  Granted it would be an interesting thing to explore of course.  Particularly since, to my knowledge, it would be the first biracial couple featured in the MCU.  Unless you count Peter Quill and Gamora, of course.  (And that brief thing that was going on between Peggy and Jason Wilkes in the woefully short-lived Agent Carter series.)  At present, though, I think Bucky’s obvious affection towards Sam’s family seems more tied to his own memories of his life before WW2.  When he wakes up the next morning on the couch (because Sam invited him to crash at the house instead of finding a hotel room somewhere), a genuine smile appears on his face when he catches AJ and Cass playing around with the Shield in the living room.  Those of you who have read Bucky’s bio in the MCU wiki might remember that Bucky was the oldest child of four, so seeing AJ and Cass might be reminding him of how he used to play with his younger sisters.  And interestingly enough, Sam’s sister’s name is Sarah.  Which was also the name of Steve Roger’s mother, which is probably making Bucky feel even more nostalgia.  (Side note- Bucky was actually sleeping on the couch.  Which is a step up from where we first saw him in the first episode, where he was sleeping on the cold, hard floor.  This is probably an indication that Bucky is starting to heal.)

Anyway, we then see Bucky helping train Sam in throwing the Shield around.  They even set up an obstacle course of sorts, with mats being tied to a few of the surrounding trees.  They briefly discuss the lingering issue of the Flag Smashers.  There’s still no sign of Karli, but Sam promises to give Bucky a call when he gets a new lead, and Bucky promises that he’ll come back to assist Sam at that time.  However, the main focus of the scene involves Bucky finally apologizing to Sam for giving him a hard time over the Shield in the first place, with him acknowledging how he and Steve didn’t really grasp what it might feel like to a Black man to be given the Shield.  We also get an indication that Steve and Bucky did discuss Steve’s plans of retiring by staying in the past to live a life with Peggy after returning the Infinity Stones ahead of time. It was vaguely suggested in a read-between-the-lines sort of way at the end of Endgame, but it’s nice they confirmed that Steve didn’t just up and decide to do that on the fly.  Bucky then starts opening up to Sam, admitting to him that the reason why he was so angry about the Shield in the first place was that, to him, the Shield felt like his last connection he had to Steve, who was the closest thing he had to a family.  And that feeling has intensified now that Steve is gone.  (Can we please get some clarification on what they mean by ‘gone,’ by the way?  Did Steve actually pass away from old age offscreen?  Up until now, it’s something they’ve only vaguely inferred to.  Like maybe, maybe, maybe.  But if that’s what happened, I wish they’d quit tiptoeing around the issue and just tell us straight out.)  Anyway, it’s really cool that Bucky is talking to Sam about all of this.  It does show that he truly does trust Sam.  Especially more than he does that crappy therapist they forced on him. Just saying, Bucky was still denying to her that he was having nightmares, despite apparently having sessions with her for six months.  But he freely admits to Sam that he is still having nightmares after only a week or so of them working together.  If that doesn’t illustrate how poorly Bucky’s relationship with his government issued therapist was going, I don’t know what does.  

As if getting how big a deal this is, for Bucky to open up to him like this, Sam once again slips into counselor mode.  He tells Bucky that he shouldn’t put so much concern onto what Steve thought of him, because Bucky can’t let what others think of him determine his own self-value. Or something to that effect.  He also advises Bucky to stop taking the easy way out in regards of alleviating his guilt over what he did as the Winter Soldier. Up until now, Bucky was only going after past Hydra agents to bring them to justice in an effort to make himself feel better.  But if Bucky really wants to gain peace of mind, he should instead focus on helping the victims feel better.  Which probably means that Bucky is going to go back and see that old man, Yori, from Episode 1 again and help him find closure by telling him the truth about what happened to his dead son. I admit, I’m really nervous about watching that scene unfold.  Yeah, Yori does deserve the truth, but I’m scared about how he might take it.  It would be understandable if he ends up blaming Bucky, sure.  But at the same time, it’s kinda been rubbing me the wrong way how this show seems to be acting like Bucky is a reformed assassin who has to atone for what he’s done.  No, that was what Natasha was.  Bucky, on the other hand, was the world’s longest serving POW. Someone who was tortured and brainwashed by evil Nazi scientists who stripped him of his free will and autonomy.  (And, if we consider the implications that Episode 3 gave us, we can also add sexual abuse to the list of things Hydra did to him.)  Yeah, it’s only natural Bucky feels bad for what Hydra made him do.  But that just indicates he’s naturally a good man with a good heart.  I’m not exactly a fan of the idea that he should be made to feel like he should atone for anything he did.  Because he was as much of a victim in all of that as the people Hydra sent him after.  Still, if trying to make up for what Hydra forced him to do is what Bucky needs to do in order to forgive himself, then I guess I can support that.  Do what you have to do to find closure for yourself, buddy.

Anyway, after Bucky leaves, Sam and Sarah continue to finish repairs on the fishing boat in preparation for selling it.  But just before Sam is going to paint over the names of their parents, which is printed on the side of the boat, Sarah stops him. It seems she’s changed her mind about selling the boat, considering the boat is part of their family legacy. Which is something that Sam is relieved to hear, as he didn’t want to see the boat getting sold off, either.  The siblings begin having a heart-to-heart, with Sarah telling Sam that, even though she’s always given him a hard time about the matter, she’d never thought he was running away from things whenever he went off to save the world and whatnot.  She also tells him that she knows he’s been dwelling on what Isaiah said to him, but helps Sam make a decision involving the Shield.  While Isaiah had good reasons for believing the way he did, Sam ultimately decides that the pain Isaiah went through would be in vain if nobody continued to fight for the future.  And so, Sam decides that he’s now willing to accept the mantle of Captain America.  Which leads to another montage.  This time of Sam going through a self-training session with the Shied, with his nephews, AJ and Cass, helping out.  The training montage ends with us seeing that Sam has become a pro at throwing and catching the Shield.

Of course, just when you start to think this episode is feeling like the series finale, with everything wrapping up and setting the stage for a future adventure, we get the reminder that there is still one more episode to go.  It seems that Karli has been pushed over the edge after the death of Nico, as well as seeing all the GRC facilities raided and cleared out of refugees.  And she is now out for revenge.  Specifically, she plans to rally up what remains of her followers and attack the GRC headquarters, as they plan to vote on the Patch Act, which would force millions of people to relocate to their home states. To achieve this goal, Karli manage to join forces with Batroc, who had previously appeared at the beginning of Episode 1.  Strangely enough, an earlier scene does suggest Batroc was actually hired to team up with Karli and the Flag Smashers by Sharon Carter, which only further indicates that Sharon is a bit shady.  What exactly is Sharon up to?  Is she a bad guy now?  That would kinda stink, since she is Peggy Carter’s great niece or something.  Talk about besmirching your family name.  

Anyway, right when the Flag Smasher’s attack on GRC headquarters is about to begin, Sam gets a tip off from Joaquín, who had been keeping his ear to the grapevine in terms of the Flag Smasher’s movements. Apparently, the Flag Smashers coordinate their attacks via this coded cellphone signal, which  Joaquín had figured out how to hack into.  And he notifies Sam that the coded cellphone signal is now showing up in New York City.  Sam seems to figure out what the Flag Smashers are about to do when he sees a news report on the TV about the GRC voting on the Patch Act that evening.  Deciding to go and do something about it, he opens up that Wakandan crate Bucky had dropped off.  The episode ends before we can see what exactly was inside the crate, though.  They’re clearly saving that reveal for the final episode.  Although, my boyfriend, who is also my viewing partner for this show, is a bit of an expert on what went on in the Marvel comics.  (He even worked in a comic book/gaming store before we met.)  It seems that, in the comics, Sam Wilson did end up getting a pair of Falcon wings that utilized hologram technology of some kind.  So he’s theorizing that’s what it is.  Still, we have to wait until next Friday to know for sure.  Either way, it looks like this next episode will decide what happens with Karli and the Flag Smashers.  I honestly don’t see how it’s possible to resolve things with Karli peacefully, though.  She seems too far gone at this point.  But I’m sure Sam will still try to talk her down, which only deepens my respect for him.  And who knows?  Maybe Sam will succeed, with Karli going the Coalhouse Walker route- agreeing to stand down in exchange for the promise of a fair trial, which would allow her to state her case.  (Of course, I hope they don’t do things exactly how it went down in Ragtime.  Because in that story, they pretty much promise Coalhouse that he’ll receive a fair trial, but the moment he surrenders himself, the police immediately open fire and shoot him dead.  Which is not even remotely cool.)

Oh, and then there’s still the matter of Walker.  Unfortunately, I don’t think we’ve seen the last of him.  Because even though Sam and Bucky effectivly took him down AND he received a dishonorable discharge by the US government, he still refuses to believe he did anything wrong.  He’s convinced that he still deserves to be Captain America.  While a small part of me does pity him, he really is displaying what appears to be a fragile White male ego.  He even goes up to Hoskin’s grieving parents and sister and lies to them about how Nico was the one who killed their son, and that they should take comfort in the fact that justice was served.  There’s also a mid-credits scene where we see he’s trying to make his own version of the Shield.  Doubt its made of vibranium, of course.  I Gotta say, I’m seeing a lot of parallels between Walker and Karli right now.  Both of them have convinced themselves that they are 100% in the right, and everything they do is completely justified.  Which naturally makes them both very dangerous. However, I’m mostly concerned by this mysterious woman.  Contessa, or whatever it was she called herself.  She approached Walker after his trial to tell him that he didn’t do anything wrong before giving him what appears to be a blank business card.  (I’m guessing there’s some sort of secret decoded message on this business card that Walker will decipher later on.)  I have no idea who this woman is supposed to be or what her goal is.  I’m guessing she’s someone comic book experts would recognize, but my boyfriend/viewing partner, who is familiar with the comics, didn’t seem to recognize her name, either.  So it’s a big mystery at this point.

Before I wrap up my thoughts for this week’s episode, there is something partially unrelated I should mention.  For those of you who haven’t heard, Sebastian Stan’s latest movie, Monday, recently came out.  And it seems that this movie includes Sebastian and his female co-star in a full-frontal nudity scene.  From what I’ve heard, there have been some select individuals who have seen fit to criticize Sebastian’s appearance in this scene, because he wasn’t in perfect shape or something like that.  If you were one of those select individuals who decided to body shame Sebastian after watching this movie?  Grow up!  Bodies come in all shapes and sizes.  And to expect a male actor to have a completely chiseled physique at all times is extremely unrealistic, particularly when they’re portraying an ordinary person.  The fact that people were acting like this is even more disgusting when you consider the fact that Sebastian Stan apparently already has some body issues.  The fact that he was still willing to film this full-frontal scene despite those issues just illustrates his passion and dedication to his skill as an actor and the message this movie was meant to convey.  He did not deserve to have his body objectified the way it was. Nobody does.  So once again, this is me condemning the behavior of those select ‘fans.’ 

#falcon and winter soldier #falcon and winter solider series

[mysterioh]

The Ignorant Beauty and The Beast of New York - Ch. 9 

PAIRING: MOB!STEVE ROGERS X READER

Synopsis: Y/N is an exhausted bio major. Steve is danger with a capital DANGER. She thinks he’s a sarcastic prick with an impressive knowledge in art history. He thinks she’s cute even if she’s only running on one brain cell. All he wants is a single date, but she’s adamant upon denying.

Masterlist

We Meet Again My Dearest Mobster

“You guys know each other?” May asked with a smile.

“Nope,” Peter quickly replied. “I’ve never met her in my life.”  

You looked at him. Yup, you’ve definitely seen this guy somewhere. May’s phone goes off and she reaches into her pocket to check.

“Oh, it’s the supplier,” she said aloud. She looked over to Peter with a frown. “Mind if I take this, it’s really important.”

Peter shook his head with a sweet smile. “It’s okay, I can wait.”

“You’re the sweetest,” she said with a chuckle, ruffling his hair as she walked by.

You waited until May closed the door to her office behind her to speak.

“Alright, punk, who are you?” you questioned. “I know we’ve met before?”

“What? Honest, Miss!” he said. “I’ve never seen you in my life!”

“Cut the crap and play straight with me,” you deadpanned, crossing your arms.

“Now I understand why the boss likes you so much,” he chuckled.

You dropped the spoon in your hand. "Wait what?"

Peter cupped his mouth. "N-nothing!" Peter exclaimed. "I said nothing!"

"No, no, no," you hurried towards him. "You just said something. Say it again."

"I just remembered I have to go somewhere. Bye, Aunt May!" He took a dash for the door, but you caught him by the collar of his shirt.

"Not so fast, pipsqueak," you said, yanking him towards you. "Who the hell is your boss and how does he know me?"

"Well, uh - um - you see," Peter stuttered, not knowing what was worse. Outing his boss or your wrath.

"Spit it out already!" You exclaimed, pulling him closer.

"His name is Steve! Steve Rogers!" Peter confessed. "The King of Brooklyn!"

Your grip on his collar loosens at the blonde's name. "Steve?" You said in shock.

"Yeah," Peter fixed his collar with a sigh.

"The freak from the museum's gotta crush on me?" you murmured to yourself in disbelief.

"I think it's time I go," Peter slipped by you.

"Not so fast," you said flatly and he froze in his steps. "You've got a lot of explaining to do."

“Let me wallow in my misery, Nat,” Steve groaned from his office chair.

Nat rolled her eyes at the sight of him. He was leaned back in his seat with a book on his face.

“Listen here, Romeo, enough’s enough,” Nat crossed her arms. “I’m sick and tired of you acting like this.”

“It’s a free country,” he replied from underneath his book.

“Free country my ass,” Bucky deadpanned. “We’re worried about you man,” he said. “You’ve been acting weird for the past two weeks.”

“Listen, I’m fine,” Steve stated, “And what the hell are you three doing here anyway? Don’t you have work to do?”

“Don’t change the topic,” Sam warned, leaning toward him on the desk. “You gotta talk to us, man, ‘cause you’re messing up everything.”

“You gonna tell me how to do my job, Sammy?” Steve sits up, making his book fall onto the floor. His tone quickly shifting from tired to serious. “Cause I’d really love some pointers.”

“Maybe I’ll have to cause you’re acting like a dumbass!” Sam said. “What made you think nuking the Gambino brothers was a good idea? Are you trying to start a war here?”

“They lied to my face,” Steve snapped back. “You saw it with your own eyes. They’re working with Hydra behind my back.”

“You know they got a brother out in Chicago,” Bucky reminded. “You think he’s just gonna let you do that?”

“You think I’m afraid of some punk from puny Chicago?” Steve retorted, standing up with blood rushing to his head. “I’m the fucking mob king and I do what I want. I’m sending a message. Anyone who even thinks to go against me is gonna regret it. I’m maintaining the order. ”

“By creating more chaos?” Sam asked. Steve’s eyes cut to him sharply, but it’d take more than that to scare Sam off. “This wasn’t the way to do it, Steve, and you know it.”

Steve’s lips pursed into a scowl. He was stubborn to admit it.

“Stevie,” Nat called him, “You sure this isn’t about something else?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You sure this isn’t about the girl?”

Steve’s heart dropped. “No,” he stated, if they really listened they could hear his voice shake.

“Yeah?” Bucky said, disbelief written in his eyes.  

“Y-yeah,” he affirmed. The three look at him with blank expressions. "It isn't okay?" he stated firmly. "So quit bringing her up in every damn conversation," he brushes past Sam and Bucky and walks towards the door.

"Steve, don't you think you're just repeating the same steps you did with Peggy?" Nat said boldly.

Bucky and Sam look at her, scared out of their minds. Steve freezes at the door, his grip on the metal knob was tight. He turns towards them with sharp, icy eyes.

Red Alert. Red Alert.

"Why can't you just let us help?" She asked. "You'll end up hurting yourself more. Just like you did with-"

"Don't say her name," he interjected, his tone dipped in venom. "And I can handle things on my own. I don't need anyone's help." He said.

With that, he opens the door and leaves with a loud slam. The three winced at the sound of the door then slump in their defeat.

"He's gonna make it worse," Sam prophesied, "and he's gonna drag us with him."

"Till death do us part, y'know?" Bucky chuckled sadly.

"Bro, don't say it like that," Sam snarled.

"Can you two shut up for once?" Nat hissed.

"What's with you?" Bucky asked, placing his hands on his hips.

"Shut up, I'm thinking," she snapped at him.

"Oh great," Bucky huffed. "Steve's being an ass and now you're thinking." Nat shoots a glare his way. "What's becoming of this world?" He cried.

She elbows him hard in the gut and he bends over with a whimper.

"What are you thinking, Nat?" Sam asked nicely but cautiously.

"Thinking how we can help, Steve."

"He just said he didn't want help," Bucky wheezed.

Nat clicked her tongue. "You know how stubborn he is! He won't ask for help because he's too damn proud of himself!"

"So what do you have in mind, Romanoff?" Sam asked with a smirk, leaning against Steve's desk.

"We find the girl and talk to her," Nat said.

"Yeah, and how do we do that?" Sam questioned. "I mean, what would we even say?"

“Hold on, I haven’t thought that far yet,” she grumbled. Her lips pursed into a pout and she furrowed her brows in rumination. C’mon Nat, think, think.

And like a blessing in disguise, her answer comes through the door in the form of a ruffled brunette.

“You guys won’t believe who I just met!” Peter beamed.

A few moments ago…

“You know he really likes you,” said Peter, sitting across from you in the empty restaurant. He took another bite of his banana bread. “Like a lot,” he said with his mouth stuffed with bread.

“Yeah?” you said nonchalantly, propping your chin upon your hand.

Although your exterior was calm and collected, your insides were going wild. Yeah, you knew he had some sort of interest in you. But you always thought he just wanted to get in your pants. Isn’t that what all guys like him wanted to do? You weren’t so sure anymore.

“Yeah,” he took a sip of his milk, “when he found out about your boyfriend he was totally bummed out.” Your stone face crumbled and you frowned. Oh, this is bad.

How ya been?

Good.

He lied.

“Well, that’s his fault, not mine,” you pointed out in denial.

“It is,” Peter agreed, “but I kinda feel bad for the guy.” You raised a brow. “I heard he got his heart broken before. Like torn into shreds. I don’t know much about it cause I’m still new.”

Something deep in that little grinch heart of yours stung badly. Why you felt bad, you didn’t know, but you did. Sure, he came off a bit hard, but he was a nice guy overall. Minus the whole mob thing, that is.

“Oh, that’s too bad,” you sympathized, awkwardly shifting in your seat.

Peter’s phone lit up on the table and he looks over to see who it is. He picked it up and replied quickly. He shoved the rest of his bread in his mouth and you looked at him slightly disgusted.

“Sorry, I gotta go pick up my girlfriend from her yoga class,” he said, slipping his phone in his pocket and getting up.

“No problem,” you stood up with a smile, “thanks for answering my questions and sorry about being so — uh rough.”

Peter chortled in reply. “Nah, it’s fine. Y’know you’d make a great mobster the way you hold yourself. You interested in a job? The pay’s real nice.”

“No,” you smiled sheepishly, “I’m fine.”

Peter shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he walked over to the door before turning again. “Oh, can you tell Aunt May I had to leave?”

“Yeah, no problem,” you replied, following him.

Peter waved before opening the door, letting in a gust of cold winter air. You wrap your arms around you while standing, trying to figure out what to say.

“Uh, Peter,” you called after him, making him turn back. You sighed, hot breath vaporizing in the cold air. “Tell your boss I said hi,” you said with a sweet smile.

He nodded with a grin. “Sure thing!”

The place was packed to the corners.

Steve looked around at the busy tables. An old couple eating side by side studiously bent over their meals. A group of women around their thirties collapsing in fits of laughter over old memories while a lonely woman not too far off looked on with a frown. A family with exasperated teenagers and businessmen negotiating over a glass of wine and steak. It's like the colors of the rainbow and Steve can't help but hate being squished in the middle of it all.

"Why did you bring me here?" he asked pointedly.

Nat smirks. "Peter recommended this place to me so I thought we could check it out," she told him.

"But why me specifically?" Steve questioned. "Why not Sam or that one chick you're always fighting with?"

"Because," Nat said with an exaggerated sigh, "I felt like it. Besides we have to talk."

"I already told you I'm not-"

"Shut your face, it's not about the girl. It's about Lucky."

Steve grumbles and glares. "You know I'm the boss right?" He warns.

Natasha laughs from her stomach. "Stevie, you know better than anyone," she said, shifting her weight onto one hand. "I work under no man. I'm here because I want to be."

"Sure it's not because of Bucky?" He snickered making her groan.

Nat kicked him hard in the shin and he yelps in pain. He leans down and rubs his leg. "You jerk."

"I'll kill you, Steve," she hissed through gritted teeth.

"I'd like to see you try," he said before taking a sip of his soda as the waitress sauntered down the aisle.

"Hi, my name is Y/N, I'll be your waitress for today," you greeted. Steve's drink almost goes through his nose at the sound of your voice. He coughed and patted his chest while Nat smirked at him.

Why Why Why Why

He's afraid to look up cause he knows you're going to be there and in all honesty, he didn't want to see you right now.

"You okay, Stevie?" Nat asked with an amused grin.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he wheezed, shooting her an evil glare. He looks up to see you giving him a sweet lopsided smile paired with a small chuckle from his reaction.

"Hey, dude, how's it been?"

There's an indescribable warmth behind that smile. As if you're happy to see him again. It could be skin deep but he refused to see it that way. He'd stay blind if you kept on looking at him like that. He'd be Pygmalion as long as you were his Galatea.

TAG LIST: @ashwarren32​ @rootcrop​ @siriusement​ @savedbystark​ @great-goddess-of-sin​ @boxofteenageideas​ @little-dark-empress​ @imsonick​ @scuzmunkie​ @achishisha​ @chuckennuggets1213​ @captainchrisstan 

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #steve rogers imagine #mob!steve #steve rogers #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #mobster!steve rogers #mob!steve rogers x reader #mob!steve rogers x you #mob au

[mochuelovelli]

Lilith for the character ask?

Oh boy, a controversial character! Gotta say, I stan James Charles /J

How do I feel about this character?:

On a real note, I do like Lilith as a character. When we first meet her, she's pompous and proud. Oozing with entitlement, she's easy to route against and you like to see her get worked up and "brought down" to Eda's level as the wild which so eloquently put it. Later on, but not too much later that it feels disingenuous, we really get to see her show that she cares for her sister. One might believe it is *Eda* being ridiculous, as far as the audience is aware, Lilith's offer holds little downsides. Eda would be cured and be afforded the luxuries of the upper class AND keep her magic. All she had to do was be the Emperor's soldier.

As to not get off track by talking about Eda, (im sure Lilith herself would loathe that lol) Lilith's reveal to have cursed her sister over a spot in the emperor's coven was...controversial to say the least. I don't think it's unpopular to voice that, yeah. It could've been communicated better to the audience since I saw plenty of commentators and regular fans themselves either thought Lilith cursing her sister was *needlessly* petty and not at all thought out (which yeah it kinda was).

From where I stand on that issue is, yeah, Lilith's whole reason to curse her sister could've been avoided by just talking to her sister and asking her to let her have this. BUT, I think a lot of people forget that the Emperor's coven would want to limit the number of powerful witches in their coven. Sure, Belos would want to be protected by a bunch of loyal soldiers, but he wouldn't want too much of the population to ever have a much power as him. So limiting the number of members in not just his coven but possible in the other major covens, would aid in controlling that population.

This might be pure hogwash but like, there are a ton of other "lesser" covens. So in my mind, it's more likely that the general population of witches gets sorted into one of the various miscellaneous. If you think limiting yourself to only practicing Illusion magic sucks, imagine only practicing whatever the fuck the "swag coven" does.

Lol gonna add a page break this shit is getting too long

Romantic Ships for this character?:

Hm, it's only s1 and we haven't seen her interact w/ many characters outside of her fam/Belos/actual children. I kinda jokingly ship here with Steve lol. Kikimora and her also have a funny dynamic but in all actuality, I don't ship her w/ anyone rn.

Non-Romantic Ships for this character?:

Her and Hooty lol. I mean Eda is an obvious answer but like, Hooty fucking with Lilith is too funny to not want to see. Her and King would be great too, probably get some good B plots out of it. It would be a good contrast since they both can be petty but in different ways and I think that would help flesh out their characters a bit more and maybe cause some introspection (at least on Lilith’s end lol)

Unpopular opinion about this character?:

Lol. I feel like she is such a divisive character in general that most opinions about her aren’t too out of the main stream. I guess a more meta take is that when she’s portrayed in fanworks, usually fanfic but not exclusively, very...one note lol. She’s usually a pretty flat, boring character in an attempt to highlight the contrast between her and Eda. She’s the straight-laced, “responsible” sibling who has a chip on her shoulder. In fanon, that equates to her characterization to either be like, completely and utterly apologetic to the point where it becomes unbelievable for any person to do. Her apologizing or making amends is usually quickly forgiven by Luz/and or Eda. Sure, Luz is very forgiving person naturally but like?? She’s wasn’t mad in canon too much about THEIR well being (almost getting impaled), she was specifically pissed about Lilith betraying Eda. 

So, if Lilith is a big part of your story (and it’s working in the realm of canon), then this should be a problem which doesn’t get resolved by just ONE big action. I also feel like her being on better terms with Eda would come BEFORE Luz since Eda’s main gripe with her would be about her being annoyed by Lilith’s controlling nature and the fact that she didn’t trust her enough to talk about her feelings back when she was first cursed (also her using Luz against her but I feel like that would probably be a hurdle that wouldn’t really be over come until Lilith in turn would be willing to sacrifice herself for Luz while also making an effort to care for Luz as a person not just see her as a “pet”). Hhhh this section is so long and its kinda bleeding over in the next question so-

Something I wish will happen or would have wanted to happen in canon?:

yall if you are still reading I am so sorry sksk

I want Lilith in general, not to be forgiven by either Luz or Eda. Eda probably early on stating about how she is unsure if she could EVER forgive her sister for what she has done. BUT, critically, Eda would see that Lilith is trying and she is willing to work with her (with a unhelpful dose of teasing) because at the end of the day she still loves her sister. For the relationship they had before everything with south, for knowing her side of the story even though she believes it doesn’t justify her actions. She understands and sympathizes, she’s grown a bit softer thanks to Luz, which is very funny since I want Luz to be the one who is the hardest to convince Lilith actually had a change of heart but more on that later. 

Before I move on to what I want her path towards forgiveness with Luz looks like, I want to bring up a parallel that I haven’t seen many people make. Fans always talk about the parallel between the Clawthornes and Luz/Amity, and rightly so because there is a lot to extrapolate there, but I think another interesting dynamic that might be interesting to see in s2 would be an episode that focuses on lost friendship/sisterhood with the Clawthornes and Amity and Willow. It’s kinda funny that Amity and Willow’s friendship was ruined because Willow was too “weak” while Eda was too “powerful”. In a potential episode, it can show the progression both Eda/Lilith and Willow/Amity are making in rekindling their relationship with each other. For Eda and Lilith this would be a lot more rough around the edges since it both be either the first or one of the first attempts at doing so while Willow/Amity would maybe be further along yet still have some major/minor hang ups with one another. With Willow/Amity, their relationship would either be rounding the bend of fully moving past the “idk how to feel about you stage” or it is stated outright that Willow forgives Amity, (and by forgive, I mean in the “we both know what you did, you’ve actually changed. we won’t have the same relationship that we once had but I’m okay with trying again”). In contrast, Lilith and Eda would reach a understanding and come up with some ground rules on how to handle each other (Eda’s main take away from this “episode” would be what I previously stated in the last question), ones that will be more like guidelines cuz its Eda lol. Also what separates the Clawthornes conflict from the Willow/Amity one (besides the obvious) is that the Clawthornes both know how the other works. Which buttons to push and all that so both of them are going to have to learn to resist doing that, at least a bit, in order to actually progress. 

ANYWAYS, I also want Luz to be the one to regard Lilith the coldest. Luz refusing to let Lilith teach her anything despite probably having more practical/book smarts knowledge on magic theory than Eda because she doesn’t trust her. If they are gonna use that masked dude as a spy, I want Luz to assume Lilith is somehow a coconspirator. This plot thread doesn’t have to be going at 100% the whole time, (in fact I would want it to be a temp thing maybe lasting a couple eps at most or like, just something that is hinted at but not dived deeply until the second half of the season). Really, Lilith has a hard time because Luz straight up doesn’t give her the opportunity to really express her regret/remorse. Lilith probably won’t at first give her a ton of reasons to forgive her as she usually attempts at coming back at Luz’s snide remarks with her own quippy comebacks. Sksk a really angsty end to an attempt could include Lilith saying something to Luz after going on a small talk with her (where yeah Lilith has improved but still needs noticeable work) that she “reminds her a lot of Eda” and Luz bites back with something like “Oh yeah? You going to curse me too? You want another person you can force to do what YOU want?”. 

Hell maybe “parental problems” could have Lilith poke at, either on purpose or accidentally, Luz’s feelings about going back to the human world and Camila. Lilith reminding her, maybe unknowingly, reminds her a lot of her mom and that causes her to blow up on her. Luz would hate that comparison, thinking about how similar her mom and Lilith are to one another. That because she still has such a strong dislike of Lilith, it bleeds over into how Luz views Camila and vice versa. In that, both Camila and Lilith value respect, an adherence to the rules, have a great sense of wisdom (arguably for Lilith lol /hj), and (eventually for Lilith once she gets to know Luz better) a genuine want for Luz to succeed and belief in her even though they are critical of her actions at times. Sure Eda reminds her of that more, motherly protective kind of love, in which she would do anything for her to be happy and healthy. Lilith can be the other side of that, the worry and slight doubt. That familiar way they each go about trying to understand and get close to Luz yet not quite getting it yet would still do whatever she’d ask for her sake. Luz at first would take Lilith being disappointed in her actions as an accomplishment. As they grow closer and the more Lilith reminds her of her mom, it becomes scary. The disappointment hurts and in an effort not to feel like that again and to not want to think about the comparison between Lilith and her mother she will snap back at her. Eventually Lilith would then have to change again and reassure her that she cares and by extent, her mother cares to. It is here Lilith is willing to let go of being so constantly controlling and learns to encourage first (or do some form of the compliment sandwich) and Luz comes to peace with her feelings about her mother and understands her position better. To be able to love herself even if she knows that she will always try to do her best. 

oh my fucking god you made it im so sorry i guess i had a lot of thoughts. fffffff

#TOH #lilith clawthorne #the owl house #character ask meme #luz noceda #edalyn clawthorne #yall im so sorry #this is very fanficy an long rip #if you read all this you are a champ but also no i cant cover your insurance lol

[the-wintershade]

— never let me go

pairing: sam wilson x f!reader x bucky barnes summary: he doesn’t want to talk. he doesn’t even want to see you again. wc: 5.8k+ genre: angsty for sure, fluff, cuteness, flirting, sweet boi

Blue Shade: series — masterlist | 05

Bucky’s eyes are bright and excitable. They are expecting and gracious, like he’s done the thing to finally get the girl, to win the prize, to secure the deal. And it makes you want to wipe the smile right off of his dumb face.

His arms are spread wide and empty, just like how they’ll stay.

“What’s wrong, doll?” He sees the anger contorting around your features. “Aren’t you glad? I chose you.”

There are many things wrong with what he just said, but the part that cuts the deepest is that he was well aware that you knew. He knew you knew and let it just sit there unsaid. Like you were worth nothing to him. Like you were just an accessory.

You didn’t want his love, you didn’t want him. You just thought you needed his approval, that somehow his opinion would solidify your standings and chances with other men. 

But you were wrong, so wrong.

And it desperately ached, ripped your soul to pieces, that it took you this long to figure it out. That you left Sam, beautiful, sweet, encouraging Sam, at his house, eyes hurt and broken as you took off, like he knew that you would choose Bucky over him. 

You weren’t racing over to choose Bucky. You were coming over to end things, to finally face this gaping hole in your chest.

“Why are you back now?” Your words drip with acid and the words push harshly against your closed teeth. You could feel your eyes darkening, morphing into something spiteful and fueled with hate. There’s no point in pretending like everything was fine and pleasant now. The truth was coming out soon enough.

“Doll…” His arms lowered slowly, dramatically, and it burned your skin to think that he was genuinely surprised at your reaction. What if it had been him on the other side of this? What if you had cheated on him? “What are you talking about?”

“What went wrong, Bucky. Why change now?”

He looked down and scoffed, fixing the collar of his jacket while watching you glower, unimpressed at his attempts to charm and welcoming you back to him like he was opening his eyes for the first time instead of realizing you were there the entire time.

“Because...she wasn’t understanding of our arrangement.” The words were about as hard to choke out as it was for you to hear them, but you kept a neutral expression. Arrangement. You were just a guise, something to keep the daring ones interested and the weak ones away. The respectful ones. The girls who knew better than to mess with a man already dating someone else.

“And I am? I’m just sort of business arrangement to you?” Your tone stayed dry and neutral the whole time, not betraying an ounce of the anger you felt.

“Well…” The scratching of the back of his neck was enough to tell you everything he couldn’t.

You folded your arms and gave a pitiful, “ha,” and looked away from those electrifying blue eyes that you fell into that day. The day, years ago, that you would come to regret for some time. They were still beautiful and he was still undeniably handsome, but that meant nothing to you now.

Now you had something lightyears better than before. Someone that was beautiful in more ways than one. Someone who’s internal heart and soul encompassed a mind far more delicate and compassionate than Bucky’s. Bucky was handsome externally, but was an internal bog of self-centered thoughts and actions. 

He wasn’t someone you wanted to stay with.

“Go away.” You ordered, stepping into his personal space to convey the depth of your command. You never broke eye contact; you wanted him to feel every bit of the rage he conveyed in you, every bit of the fury that raised itself in his name. “And don’t come back.”

Bucky’s eyebrows lifted incredulously, like he’d been honestly shocked at your reaction. “What? Why?” His blue eyes felt like ice after knowing the depth and warmth in Sam’s chocolate brown ones. “Come on, Doll.” He scoffed and walked closer to you only to be pushed back by your firm hand against his chest. The touch revolted you, but you stood firm, not allowing your hand to drop. “I thought you’d be happy about this.”

“I don’t want to be second place for you.” Your voice lowered so much, it sounded like a growl. He heeded the warning and took a step back as the weight of your dark, sharp eyes cut against his stunned gaze. Good. Let him recognize what he’s dealing with. “I deserve better. I found someone better.”

The words don’t truly register until after you’ve said it, because this means that you’re ready to admit it out loud. You’re ready to tell the world, and even the person you were almost dating, that you’re ready for things to work out with Sam. 

You’re ready to admit that Sam’s the one for you.

You didn’t school the shock on your face and Sam’s face angled in anger at your response. “It’s him isn’t it?”

“Leave.” 

“He’s just using you, you know.” Bucky stayed rooted in place, but as you walked towards him, his body language altered, changing into showing signs of running and fleeing.

As you come to a stop in front of him, you say one last dumb statement to his face. “Oh, I bet.” You stalk a little closer and he throws his hands up, turning around to leave. 

The buzz that started when he opened his mouth begins to fizzle out, draining your energy and focused concentration. You felt jittery and depleted, like you’d just run a 5k and crossed the tape. That would never happen, of course, you’d already witnessed the results of running with Sam. A running career or even running for leisure would never be for you, but the exaltation and exhaustion that would come with it you could sympathize with.

You opened and closed your apartment door with an extra umph as you tread over to your couch and plopped down, a face of surprise still plastered onto your face. You really said that. Those words were a reality, those words were real.

You scoffed in shock and then quickly reached for your phone, fingers trembling, hands shaking. You needed to call him, to tell him everything that happened, to let him know the truth and that things were over. He was the one. He was the person you wished to spend the rest of your days with.

Your teeth work the bottom of your lip as you pace your leg, waiting for a response, but a generic voicemail greets you, announcing his unavailability and patiently asking you to wait for the beep. You try again, but within seconds you get the same message.

What was he doing?

You try a third time, hoping he’ll pick up and you’ll hear the dazzling deepness of his rich, warm voice, but nothing, clicked right to voicemail. Like he intentionally turned his phone off.

A pit of despair grows in your core. 

You shouldn’t have left him. You should have ignored Bucky and stayed. But if you did that, you wouldn’t be free. Free to live without Bucky so firmly rooted in your side, agonising over your every move and breath. You wouldn’t be able to run to Sam without that chasm separating you two.

But now everything felt wrong.

Agony burrowed into your heart, fretting over the reasons behind dodging your calls. He never ignored you, why start now?

Maybe you should go over there, try to reason with him and make things right. But you knew. You wouldn’t have to reason with him if you didn’t already know the reason.

He thought he lost you. He thinks that you somehow chose jealous zealot Bucky over him. Over your gorgeous ray of light and warmth. That you would choose that horrible man over someone who makes you feel like the most important thing in the world.

You could never, would never. 

But Sam didn’t know how to separate your inability to kiss him out of respect and moral obligation to whatever was going on with Bucky and thinking that you weren’t interested that way. But he must have known; didn’t he see your eyes. Your orbs that pleaded with him for forgiveness and took on a tenderness that could only be attributed to him.

You set your phone down and ran your fingers through your hair, crushed. 

Oh Sam, please forgive me.

…

Sam doesn’t come to the next dance practice or the next. Your heart grows heavier and heavier each time, tears threatening spill from your closed lids. The others in the class are sympathetic and offer to switch with you in between dances, but you respectfully decline and leave.

On your way to the last practice, little hope flutters inside of your heart. You doubt he’s coming, but you’re not ready to give up on him. You’re not ready to throw in the towel just yet. 

Sam is nowhere in sight when you enter the room and Peggy smiles sympathetically at you, making her way over to give you a hug. “I’m so sorry, (name).” She whispers sweetly, and you return her hug, letting this small gesture wash away the horrible sinking feeling of guilt and regret that hits you like a tidal wave.

“Thanks, Peggy.” You manage to answer her and she steps away to look at you. “How is he?”

“He’s okay. He and Steve have been in contact.” She nods at you and you deflate at the look on her face. That’s all you’re going to get, all she can convey to you. 

“Okay…” You breathe and look down. Peggy rubs your shoulder soothingly and you nearly crumple under her gentle touch. “I just really want to speak to him. He hasn’t returned any of my calls or texts and there’s so much I want to explain to him. So much I need to talk to him about.”

“He just needs some time.” Peggy’s smile is sincere and hopeful, it lifts your spirits ever so slightly. “I know he’ll want to hear everything you have to say. Sam is a good man and he’ll listen; he just needs to be alone right now.”

You nod slightly, but feel better. Peggy was always good at encouragement and knowing the right thing to say. “Do you have a dress?”

“I’ll be there, Peggy. For you and Steve...and Sam.” You smile smugly at her and she gives you one of her signature grins back at you.

“I look forward to having you there on our big day. I know Sam will be happy to see you, whether he admits it or not.” Her happiness bleeds into yours and you begin to leave, feeling more optimistic that things will get better, no matter how hard the climb is right now.

“Thank you, Peggy.”

“You’re family to us now, (name). We’ll always be here for you.”

You nearly cry in your car.

...

You travel all the way to his house. It feels weird being there, after everything that’s happened in the last few days. Your dance together feels like it was just yesterday, like it was just a few hours ago that you were wrapped in his arms, listening to the calming sound of his heart. A heart that you knew and trusted. A heart that you unknowingly held and dropped.

You wanted to fix this. You needed him to see that this was just a misunderstanding. He was the one you chose. He was the one you wanted.

You just hoped that he would let you get the chance to explain.

Tentatively, you walk up the steps, trying to keep your breath even the whole time. Your heart beats erratically at the idea that this could be it, this could be the moment that could change everything. Your hands are already shaking by the time you knock and your breathing is ragged.

You tense, wringing your hands together to stop the nerves and calm the anxiety. It builds to a crescendo, the emotions threatening to burst, but it deflates quickly.

He doesn’t answer the door. 

You take a breath and knock again, but approach the door more closely, almost laying your whole ear against the door. You catch it then, a slight shuffling of feet, and then quiet again, stillness. A broken, quiet sigh escapes your lips and your head feels like it’s a hundred pounds.

He doesn’t want to talk. He doesn’t even want to see you again.

You deserve it. You should never have left the way you did without explaining; you should have told him what you were planning to do.

But you didn’t. 

And now you were sitting here with regret and heartbreak. He may never forgive you or want anything to do with you again. It hurts, it’s a hard pill to swallow, but if that’s what he wants then that’s what you’ll give him. You gulp down the tears and tread back to your car, pulling away in a quick fashion.

You just didn’t notice Sam peeking out the blinds to watch you go.

…

You write a letter. It’s not the greatest in the world, but it doesn’t have to be. Your apology is brief, but your explanation is very detailed. The piece of paper gives him time to ignore it and read it when he’s truly ready; you just hope he’ll come around.

…

The banquet hall is perfect. Its glowing chandeliers and sparkling glasses remind you of times long gone and memories uncovered. At the center of the table sit Steve and Peggy, Natasha and Clint sit near the edges, along with Wanda and Vis. 

The seat at Steve’s side remains stubbornly empty. 

You pace around to your seat next to your would-be date. He still refuses to answer any of your previous text messages or calls, but you haven’t tried to contact him in the last day or two. You want to give him the time and space he needs, but it still crushes your soul.

The pang only intensifies as you take your seat, see his name tag, Sam Wilson, and realize he’s not coming. It feels wrong, like a universe without a sun to warm it. It’s cold and empty without him there next to you. Where you’re used to him being.

But that’s the big word, used to. 

You took it all for granted. You made the biggest mistake of your life and with every place you feel his absence, you feel your error more clearly.

Peggy turns and mouths to you, flu, and you nod more out of trying to appease her than belief in that excuse. He’s healthy, you were just at his house and knew he was fine, but you were the source of his disappearance. You were the sickness that he fled so desperately from.

That made everything so much worse.

You buried your head in your hands, raking your fingers through your scalp. You bit your lip to prevent the tears from spilling over, to prevent your emotions to be read plainly on your face.

Taking a breath, you let your body lean back against the seat and pick up your utensils with shaking hands to prepare yourself for the rehearsal dinner you’ll have to sit through.

You spare one last glance at the empty seat beside you and refuse to let your eyes drag to that spot again. 

…

It’s every bit the nostalgic, traditional, retro inspired design that you imagined it would be. There’s a whole jazz quartet as you walk in, serenading everyone with their inspirational and emotional trumpet player. It’s a whole new world of white and wood and vintage and you love every part of it. It’s so fitting for them and they deserve every happiness in the world.

It took a lot of courage and pep talks before you even considered showing your face at the actual wedding, but you came this far. You wanted to congratulate them and support them on their big day. They’ve been nothing but warm and welcoming to you from the moment you met them, Peggy even considered you family.

Family doesn’t just give up because everything gets hard. They’re there no matter what they're going through. This is you showing up. This is you taking the initiative and hopefully showing them the same love and respect they gave you.

Your hands were sweaty and you palmed them off against the lavender gown you decided on. It was a safer color. The bridesmaids were wearing red and, although you would have preferred to wear something in a mahogany hue, this would be a good compromise. 

You couldn’t ignore the erratic beating of your heart or the way your eyes flashed off the object of your attention to look for your sun. How it was so easy to work through the boring small talk because you weren’t really paying attention at all, your heart was a million miles away and your mind racing through the clouds.

He was captivating your every thought, every breath, every movement. And you couldn’t find a trace of him.

You snuck back behind the bridal dressing room and lost your breath at the sight of Peggy. She was beautiful, as you expected, but she looked like the perfect angel in white. She wrapped you in a warm hug and flashed a dazzling smile as you pulled apart. 

“It’s good to see you here. I’d hoped you’d be here.” The words were just as sweet and sincere as you remembered her to be.

You smiled genuinely, the first time in days, and held her hands tightly in your own. “You look absolutely beautiful. Steve is going to be crying some big man tears when he sees you.”

She laughs and you chuckle with her. “He better. I spent the last three hours getting ready.”

Natasha steps through the door and nods to you, a smirk on her face. “She decides to come anyway. I’ll give it to you, (name), you’ve got tenacity.”

You shake your head and step out of the way as she places the veil right upon Peggy’s dark curls, making sure to weave it like it was a halo on her head. Peggy looks even more breathtaking now. Steve should be sobbing when he sees her.

“Thank you.” She adjusts the piece and for the first time since you’ve known her, you see her hands tremble, her nerves finally getting the better of her. 

“Peggy.” You crouch next to her, placing your hands on her shoulders and giving them a slight squeeze. Her open brown eyes stare at you in the mirror, slightly embarrassed and shaky. “You have nothing to worry about. You’re beautiful, intelligent, strong, and can do anything. Steve is going to be right there, ready to hold you up the moment you step into his arms. We all love you. No one is going to let you fall, especially not the man walking you down the aisle.”

She takes a couple steadying breaths and licks her lips quickly. A small, soft smile forms on her mouth and Natasha places a hand on her shoulder. “What she said. And if he drops you, I’m gonna pick you up, give you the walk you deserve, and then politely kick his ass.”

Peggy laughs. “Oh I don’t doubt it.” She sighs and gives both of your hands a tight squeeze. “Thank you.”

You answer her with smiles that convey much more than words could ever have.

…

Your leg bounces traitorously in your seat on the pew as you wait for the ceremony to start. Nerves from anticipating watching the most beautiful woman you’ve met leads to your hasty movement but a stronger sort of anxiety coils around your stomach and sends it churning uncontrollably. 

In the back of your mind, you really hope Sam is here to support Steve and Peggy of course, but it also gives you a chance to explain in person, where things can’t get muddle over text.

That’s when you see white suits travel down the aisle and your breath gets stuck in your chest. Your heart jolts and then speeds, racing uncontrollably while you pointedly avert your eyes. You can’t be caught staring; that wouldn’t be your proudest moment.

You pretend to be interested in the carpeting when you catch the hint of dark skin sticking out of a white suit and your eyes flash without warning towards its source. Sure enough, there he is, in all of his beautiful glory and you’re rendered speechless again at the sight of him. He’s handsome. That’s all your brain can compute at the moment.

To explain the source of its lapse in processing, he’s watching you, almost as if he’d been searching for you, discreetly in the crowd and spotted you by chance. You can’t break eye contact and your heart still beats incredibly hard and rapid, like you’ve been sprinting.

It feels like a lifetime has passed before you regain enough mental fortitude to look away, but your eyes are pulled back to him like a magnet. You manage to resist the pull as he walks to his place, but your gazes draw together like they were never meant to be apart.

He’s not mad, not in the way you thought he would be, but he seems relieved and upset at the same time, that slight furrow still set between his eyes. His stare probs yours intensely, searching for answers that you can’t give at the moment. 

You just admire him, glad to see him healthy and in-person. That’s all you needed. You’d be content with just this, even if you never got the chance to see him again. This was more than enough for you.

When Peggy began her walk (and Steve’s eyes were red after she took three steps down the aisle), it was incredibly hard to break eye contact, as if you were afraid that if you looked away now, you would never be able to see him again. Your breath returns for a moment; you are able to concentrate on your bodily functions again and the buzz starts wearing off.

You take an opportunity to share a smirk with Peggy, watching as her steps are perfect and precise, practiced and elegant. There’s no way she’s going to fall. She’s too confident to let anyone have to hold her up or support any of her weight. That’s the Peggy you knew, even in the short time you’ve known her.

You glance back at Sam and see him softly smiling in your direction. You sever the connection to avoid him from seeing your face turn an unseemly shade of red.

Peggy makes it up the steps and into Steve’s arms and now the blonde man is smiling through his tears, sniffing and blinking rapidly. You allow yourself a short laugh before you look back at Sam. He chuckles in their direction as well, but glances quickly towards you, eyes furrowed and searching for something?

He looks beside you, behind you, and even in the back of the chapel before he stares at you again. A question lingers in the air as he squints at the open seat next to you and then shifts his gaze back to yours. You tilt your head in a quizzical manner. What is he talking about?

He does it one more time, more dramatically, and you break eye contact to process what he’s trying to hint at. Seat open next to you, no one else here that you should have a connection to besides the bridal party and Sam, maybe waiting for someone? Or someone missing?

Bucky. 

He’s wondering where Bucky is.

You look back to show him that he’s not a part of your life any more, but now the ceremony has begun and the time for silent communication is over.

It’s gorgeous and you couldn’t be happier for them, but an intense feeling of obligation makes your movements more jerky as you sit to witness the wedding. Sam only spares one look at you, trying his best to appear the picture of concentration and focus.

You start counting your breaths until the kiss happens, which you cheer excitedly with everybody else, your enthusiasm overshadowing the intense will to speak to Sam.

Then, as the bridal party starts to exit, Sam spares another glance your way, making the same eye movements. You shake your head vigorously in denial. Bucky isn’t and won’t be with you today and that’s how desperately you wanted him to know that. You nearly got whiplash from how hard you shook your head, but you needed him to see that the Bucky thing was long gone.

He frowns. 

Then he turns and offers his arm to another bridesmaid to escort her down the aisle.

You take a deep breath and close your eyes. Was it not the answer he wanted? Did he read the note? Does he even believe me? Your confidence took a huge hit, but you stood to take your turn walking out of the building and tried to keep your head up. Your eyes would say a different story, but at least your walk wouldn’t give room for any questions.

The crowd guides you the building over, where the real events are happening, and you play the happy wedding goer. You don’t really know anyone in the crowd, but you take time to smile and look at the scenery, the luscious trees, the white flowers contrasting the deep brown wood, the way the white lengths of fabric catch and twirl in the air. 

It distracts you, at least long enough to make it to the building without wallowing in self-pity.

You’re just about to walk in (you’re determined to stay through the entire evening, no matter how bad the Sam situation might get), when a hand rests gently on your elbow. You’re about to turn around completely, but notice the deep brown hue of the hand’s skin tone and know immediately who’s got a hold of your arm.

He gently steers you just out of earshot of other people and releases you. You look at him, hoping to see some happiness or relief there, but find none. He pointedly avoids eye contact. His arms are folded tightly over his chest.

“What happened?” The words are coated in sour flavor; you can taste bitterness on your tongue. “I thought prince charming came running back.”

You see all of it, the hurt, the betrayal, the broken bond. Everything that helped create this amazing space between you two, thrown away in an instant. But, as much as it caused you intense agony to see him this way, you knew that you had made your choice. 

You were willing to fight for it and that meant standing your ground against his cold demeanor.

“I turned him down.” 

His eyes flash over to you and he leans in closer, as if he didn’t understand the words you said. A jolt lights up in your core, but you swallow it down, trying to stay focused.

“What?” It’s nearly a hiss, but the tension isn’t as overbearing as it used to be. It’s calmed down considerably and for the first time in your few minutes of interaction, you notice a subtle thawing.

“I turned him down.”

Deep creases cut his forehead, but his face is smoother in places that are tells for you. His eyes aren’t flat or pinched; they’re open, watchful, like when he’s analyzing something. “Why?”

You watch him, smirking ahead of your next words. His eyes grow larger with surprise and confusion. “Because, I already found someone better.”

You’re held in the suspension of time as he processes the emotions running through his system. Jolts still skirt through you as he continues to stare, but his eyes melt. Over time a small smile reaches his mouth. Slowly, he reaches for your hand and presses a warm kiss to the back of it.

Your knees feel like jello.

“Well,” His eyes dazzle you and you knew in that moment, you would do anything he asked, anything at all. “There’s hope for you yet Coffee Girl.”

He doesn’t let go of your hand, but tugs you along with him, keeping you firmly rooted at his side. It’s not controlling or possessive, rather loving and protective. You’re happy to stay as close as he wants. 

Elation doesn’t even come close to the obvious relief you feel in your bones, in your soul. His warmth bleeds into your hands like it should; everything feels right.

But he accepted you so quickly. As good as it feels to be back by his side, you wonder why he would accept your explanation so swiftly. Something else must be going on here.

“Sam.” You gently call his name as you stand together, watching the first dance of the bride and groom. 

His face tilts in your direction, a lingering grin still on his features. “Hmm?”

Your core ignites at his deep hum and you blink a second to clear your head. “Did you read my letter?”

He sobers, his facial features evening out, but a small smile still holds his lips suspended. He brushes a lock of hair from your cheek to behind your ear, softly skimming your skin. It leaves a pleasant trail of warmth behind. 

He nods in response, a knowing smirk on his face. 

You pretend to be outraged and swat him playfully on the shoulder. “Sam! You read my letter and still did all this to me?”

“Well, a guy’s gotta be sure. I didn’t really know what was going on at the time and I didn’t know if you would eventually go back on what you said in the letter about breaking up with him. About me.” His grin sends a burst of heat rushing through your core. “So, I had to play it tough and safe, for me.”

Your face falls and you look away in shame. “I’m so sorry Sam. I didn’t mean to cause you so much pain over this whole thing.” You squeeze his hand and turn to him as he looks away. “I just realized how much I was worth. Being around you helped, you made me feel so special and seen and understood, and it helped, but when I looked around and saw what a beautiful example of what real love could look like, I recognized that I didn’t have anything to prove any more. I didn’t have to prove my worthiness, because there were people out there that saw it before I could.”

He’s smiling down at you now. 

Before he can say anything, it’s time to get out on the floor and do the job you were originally there for. You and Sam take your places, he pulls you close, and you hold on tight to his hand, like he’s a lifeline. “I’m wearing the wrong color.” You mention as you glance around and see the burgundy dresses around you.

“You’re perfect.” He whispers and your eyes lock, just like it did in the chapel, just like they were magnets. A shock buzzes through your hands, but you don’t have to fight it now. You let it wake you up, let it bring you two closer.

Your cheeks burn hot at his incessant eye contact, but you don’t look away.

You never look away once, even as he dips you and twirls you around like you practiced, even when you trade partners, even when your steps are so insync that you could close your arms and dance with him, you’re looking at him every second, every moment. 

Everytime.

…

The beach greets you with a gentle roaring as your footfalls line up perfectly. Your fingers are interlaced and the quiet wraps you together in a world of your own, just for you two.

Stars twinkle. The moon casts a soft glow on the water. The night brings its secretive but alluring energy. You’re here with Sam. 

He squeezes your hand. 

“How are the dreams?” You voice softly, so as not to disturb the storm of horrific images in his mind.

He sighs and tugs you closer so he can wrap an arm around you. “I don’t think they’ll ever leave for good, but they’re quieter now.”

You nod and bury into his side, breathing in his woodsy scent and his comforting touch. “I think it’s because of you.”

You feel Sam’s face look to yours, but you only smile and wrap your arms around him while you continue your pace down to the edge of the boardwalk.

His temperature warms.

The breeze is cooler here, still warm but carrying a bite at the end. Sam tries to give his jacket completely to you, but you lightly press his arm. “I’ll move closer. That way it’ll cover us both.” As you sit, you stay as close as you can to him while he drapes his jacket over you both.

He laughs as you smile like a little kid. “It’s only a jacket.”

“It’s your jacket.”

Your warm, soft eyes watch as he adjusts it, his harder angles and lines interplaying beautifully with his soft cheeks and smooth skin. He’s a masterpiece. Too gorgeous for the world. “You’re beautiful,” You murmur unconsciously.

A deep flush crosses his cheeks as he watches you skeptically. The contrast is hysterical. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” 

You curl your head into the crook of his neck. “Stop playing.” You giggle as you close your eyes and you feel him chuckle with you. It vibrates through your cheek and you smile in perfect content.

After you sit next to each other for a few hours, he helps you stand up, careful to watch your dress and get you on your feet without falling. You thank him with a small blush and move to go back to the car (you’ll get your own tomorrow) when Sam pulls you against his chest, his face serious.

“Hold on.” He whispers and slowly leans in. You move closer and only when he’s sure you want this too does he crash his lips against yours. His full lips are soft, but they roam and press into yours with fervour, a fiery jolt going all the way down to your toes. Your brush your fingers against his hair and his fingers splay against your cheek, pulling you closer with intensity. The last kiss feels like a feather and your closed eyes flutter open slowly.

Your lips are red and very puffy, as are his. “Finally,” He breathes and keeps your foreheads together for a moment, before pressing one last lingering kiss right behind your ear. Your breath hiccups.

He smirks deliberately and weaves your fingers together, pressing his lips against your hand again. “So, see you in class on Monday?”

You push him away playfully, but he makes sure to wrap an arm around you as you walk back, his lips pressing swiftly and warmly against your temple.

#wintershade #blue shade #sam wilson fanfic #sam wilson fanfiction #sam wilson x reader #ms:blue shade #sam:blue shade #sam wilson #sam x reader

[monaisme]

One Week Later - Chapter Three

This is the sequel to my one-shot, “The Battle”

“Well, if I didn’t think the man was an asshat before...” Mr. Stark growled as he disconnected from the call and sat back on the couch next to a freshly wakened Peter. “Seriously! He told me to call when we were ready and now he’s all ‘call Wong—I’m busy.’ He’s the keeper of the freakin’ Time Stone and he can’t bother to find a few minutes between balancing chakras and making avocado paste to follow through on a promise?!”

Peter could sympathize with Mr. Stark’s frustration, but was definitely less vocal about it. He’d hoped he’d get a chance to see Dr. Strange specifically so he could thank the man for at least getting him back to Earth after the whole ‘thing,’ but he guessed he’d have to wait until they got back to New York.

Mr. Stark, it seemed, was just getting started though. “I mean, he just hung up! I don’t even have Wong’s number! How am I supposed to—?”

 FRIDAY popped in from the device in his hand, “Boss, may I remind you that I can easily—?”

“Not now, FRI!” He gesticulated wildly, “I want to vent and you’re messing with my flow!”

“Tony, be kind.” Ms. Potts—um, Mrs. Stark chastised her husband from the adjoining bedroom where she was packing up her and Mr. Stark’s belongings. “All the wizards have been playing travel agent while everyone gets sorted and you know this.  He can take a break if he wants to. We’ll just call Wong like he asked and be done.”

Mr. Stark scowled at the suggestion. “But Pep, I wanted to talk to him before we left. You know this!” He whined. “An entire universe knows we’re here, and we’ve just kicked some serious ass! We need to coordinate as soon as we get back, make sure that we have a plan in place for the next—”

“You’ll do no such thing, buster! You know that Bruce and Steve will have returned the stones by the time we’ve returned, so stop being difficult. He’s signed on to do the whole ‘Avengers’ thing...” She popped her head out the door and gave him a pointed look. “Whereas you, Anthony Edward Stark, are retired. You have other priorities in your life now.”

They shared a significant look then, and if Peter had been paying attention, he’d have probably noticed it but—well, Peter’s brain was still warring between finding the motivation to get up off the couch versus never getting up again.

He knew what Mr. Stark had said earlier was true, and appreciated the fact that he was fully in Peter’s corner; but now that he was calmer... uh, visibly calmer, he had to start figuring stuff out, asap.

Once Mr. Stark got ahold of Wong, who Peter thought he might have met at some point during his recovery, they’d be on their way. He’d only slept lightly for an hour or so, and Mrs. Stark didn’t need long to finish gathering up the personal items they’d been able to collect thanks to the very wizards Mr. Stark was still muttering about. It looked like it was only a small suitcase for the two of them, and Peter had—yeah. He took a steadying breath as he realized, Peter had nothing to grab. All he possessed were the sweats and t-shirt Mr. Stark had given him to wear after his time in the med bay.

He didn’t even have shoes to wear... home?

Reality wasn’t holding back from soundly smacked Peter in the face.

“Wong! Ol’ buddy! Tony Stark, here!” Mr. Stark boomed from beside him. “Your roommate, Dr. Strange, has volunteered you for Stark family relocation duty.” Mr. Stark looked at his watch, “What are you doing in about an hour?”

Peter could have heard the reply if he’d wanted to, but he was drawn to another phone, Mrs. Stark’s, ringing quietly in the bedroom.

“Hey, sweetheart,” the woman answered with a whisper. “How are you?”

Whoever answered was quiet—just quiet enough that Peter couldn’t hear anything in return over Mr. Stark’s conversation, and he knew he had no business being curious but—

“Perfect!” Mr. Stark grew louder, forcing Peter’s attention back to their plans. “Now, do you serve lunch on this trip or is it just a bag of peanuts and...” Mr. Stark stopped talking. From what Peter could hear, it seemed that Wong didn’t share Mr. Stark’s sense of humour. “Yes, Wong, I’m sorry.” Mr. Stark rolled his eyes and smirked at the boy. “Yes, I und... no.” Was Mr. Stark getting flustered? “Of course I can be respectful of... yes. I know—I know. Wait, what?—C’mon, you know I was only— But—No, Wong! C’mon—“ A defeated sigh, “Do I have to?—But?—okay! I KNOW!” Mr. Stark pinched his nose, huffed in frustration and then calmed. “Thank you, Wong. We’ll see you in a bit.”

FRIDAY disconnected the call when Mr. Stark turned his attention to Peter. “Kid, I hope you appreciate what I’m about to have to do for you.”

Having no clue what the man was talking about, Peter nodded. “Okay, sir.”

Mr. Stark glared.

“I mean Mr. Stark.” Peter really was trying to keep his struggling from being too obvious, but was apparently failing. “I’m sorry. I’m just...” Peter trailed off as he started fidgeting with his fingers. He couldn’t figure out his place and it left him feeling off kilter. His default setting in those moments had always been hyper-politeness—even if Mr. Stark didn’t like it.

Peter would just have to try harder.

Mr. Stark pulled him close and pressed a kiss to the top of his head, but said nothing. It was kind of nice and maybe would have given him a chance to catch his breath, except that—

“Alright, dear heart, I’ll see you in a few days.” Mrs. Stark blew a kiss over the phone line, and disconnected from her own call.

Peter’s mind drifted to the bedroom for just a second, wondered who Mrs. Stark would be speaking to like that, and then was forced to come back to Mr. Stark.

“—get that this is a weird time for you, kiddo, but we’ll get home and get you settled in at the tower in no time at all. Happy’s already pulling your stuff from storage and we’ll set up the room next to May’s so you’re close by—we can wait on all that ‘other stuff’ while we get things figured out, but you can make that call once you’re ready. Does that work for you?”

Peter nodded.

Mrs. Stark exited the bedroom, her phone still in hand. “Any luck with Wong?” She asked. “I couldn’t hear the drama over my own call.” She wiggled her phone in the air. “But things are set, right?”

Mr. Stark smiled at her, “You’ll be pleased to know that everything is under control. I’ll grab our bag and we’ll be off once he gets here.” He side-hugged Peter, then finally got up off the couch. “I will, however, take a minute to see if I can grab a quick meet-up with T’challa seeing as our departure timeline has moved up.”

Peter’s stomach dropped. He was leaving?

Peter didn’t notice as Mr. Stark stared down at Peter, saw something, and then crouched down to meet his eyes. “Unless... are you going to be good here with Pepper?”

He hadn’t meant to convey his hesitance at being left with Mrs. Stark. She’d been nothing but kind to him and he had no reason to be concerned—it was just that he hadn’t been away from Mr. Stark in the last days and hours and everything felt so damned raw—and it was written all over his face. “It’s fine, Mr. Stark, really!” He stared back and cursed the fact that he could feel himself tearing up. “I’m good.”

Mr. Stark crooked an eyebrow in disbelief.

“Okay,” he cried out at being called out. “I’m not good, but that doesn’t change the fact that you need to go see Mr. King T’challa!”

Mr. Stark snorted at his response. “Kid, how many times am I going to have to remind you? You were literally spit out powerless into the middle of a battle for the universe after being dusted for five years and have only just started to find out how different things are. You’ll have to forgive me if I’m about ready to drop everything to make sure you’re okay, okay?”

Peter cringed and wished he’d stop bringing it up... like REALLY wished he’d stop. The constant reminder made him feel—well, he didn’t know how he felt, but it wasn’t fantastic, so he rolled his eyes and tried to play it off. “I get that, Mr. Stark. Honest. I just—“ he didn’t know how to say that he had to start figuring stuff out and that him being coddled wasn’t gonna help when all was said and done.  Peter looked over to Mrs. Stark, who was watching with interest. “Look, Mrs. Stark is right here and I’m pretty sure she can keep me from setting the room on fire while you’re gone, and...” Beyond that, he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

Mr. Stark thought for a couple of seconds, then chuckled. “I’m being a bit of a helicopter parent, aren’t I?”

Rubbing the unfallen tears from his eyes, Peter just shrugged. “I guess?” He answered, but quickly qualified the answer, “But I know you’ve gone through stuff, too, so we’ve just gotta-- I don’t know, figure it out as we go?”

Mr. Stark just stared at him, like he was trying to figure something out, but not saying a word. 

“Mr. Stark, you’ll be back soon, right?”

He nodded.

“Then we’ll be fine.” Peter looked over to Mrs. Stark, “Mrs. Stark can finish up with whatever she needs to do and I’ll see if I can find something to occupy myself for a bit. There’s a tonne of windows so I can check out all the scenery I’ve missed while laid up, and this suite has enough artwork to fill a wing at a museum! There’s stuff to do. You have to be back before Mr. Wong gets here anyways, so I know you won’t get distracted, right?”

Mr. Stark continued assessing. “You know that’s really sad, don’t you? Contenting yourself with looking out windows and checking out the pictures in the bathroom…”

Peter smiled back at him. “Just because I like science and building stuff doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate something beautiful, Mr. Stark. I’m a well rounded sorta’ guy.” He brushed his knuckles against an invisible lapel. “Trust me. I’ll be fine.”

He didn’t know what it was, but something shifted and Mr. Stark seemed satisfied. “Alright, but if you decide you need me, you get Pepper to call me, okay?”

Peter nodded in agreement.

“Like if you miss me or feel sick or remember a joke you wanted to tell me, got it? No reason is a stupid reason if you need me here.”

Peter blinked back tears again at the obvious affection. “I’ve got it, Mr. Stark, but you should get going. You’ve only got forty-five minutes before Mr. Wong shows up.” He took a deep breath, then held it in.

“Right. Wong. Can’t wait for him to get here.” Mr. Stark replied dryly. “It’ll be great.”

Peter snorted. He almost wished he’d paid more attention to the call. “Yeah, it will be.”

“Well then,” Mr. Stark straightened up, and everyone politely ignored the popping and cracking of his back and knees. “I’m going to dash off really fast and then be right back.” He gave Mrs. Stark a quick peck on the cheek. “Take care of my spider for me, honey. He’s great entertainment when you’re looking for a distraction during a board meeting.” He gave Peter a wink, and then stepped toward the door.

Peter stood up and moved to stand beside Mrs. Potts.

Mr. Stark put a hand on the doorknob, stopped, and looked back over his shoulder at Peter and his wife. “Seriously, call for anything.”

With that declaration, Mr. Stark finally left the room.

The two of them simply stared at the door.

It took less than a minute for the silence to become awkward.   

“So, how’s the shoulder feeling, Peter?” Mrs. Stark questioned politely.

Maybe he wasn’t the only one who felt uncomfortable? “Oh,” Peter scrunched his forehead in thought as he cautiously moved his arm. “Um, wow.” He moved it a little more. “I think it’s better?!” He couldn’t hide his surprise as he stared back at her. “I wonder when that happened?”

Mrs. Stark smiled softly at him, “I don’t know, but I’m glad to know that you’re not in any pain.” She sat beside him on the couch and placed a tender hand on his arm. “It was hard for everyone to see you suffering— especially Tony so…”

“Yeah,” Peter rubbed at the back of his neck in discomfort. He didn’t like thinking about bothering other people when he was hurt, and this had been a situation he couldn’t work around. “Um, thanks, I guess?”

She smiled so kindly at him, but Peter didn’t know what to say, so the silence descended upon the pair once again.  

Then Mrs. Stark clapped her hands together, startling Peter in the process. 

“Art!” She blurted out. “You said that you wanted to look at some of the works in the suite, and it just so happens that Queen Ramonda gave me a little tour of the place before leaving us to settle in.” She was practically beaming. “I can give you some information on the pieces and maybe we can get to know each other a little… if you’d like?” 

Peter wanted to decline. The urge to mindlessly meander as he tried to figure out what his next steps were was almost physical. He hadn’t realized how much he needed to be alone until Mr. Stark had gone.

But Mrs. Stark looked almost hopeful.  

He smiled at her and hoped it didn’t look too fake, “I don’t want to take you away from whatever you have to do, Mrs. Stark.”

Her grin widened even more, if that was possible. “Nonsense!” she exclaimed. “We just need to grab our bags and we’re done—and I love doing stuff like this!” She stepped towards an incredible sculpture Peter hadn’t noticed before. “Did you know that before I completely flipped my life around and decided to go the Business Admin track at university, I planned to be an Art History major.”

Peter tried really hard to reconcile the Pepper Potts that ran Stark Industries and the Pepper Potts that would have spent her days walking the halls of art museums. 

“You can’t picture it, can you?”

The question brought him up short. “I don’t think I can.” He answered honestly, “But that doesn’t mean anything. I mean really, to know me, would you ever imagine that I run around Queens in a unitard and a mask?”  

She laughed out loud at the description, “Well, when you put it that way…”  

Peter laughed along too, quieter but sincere. 

When they’d both settled again, the quiet felt less tense, but Mrs. Stark still wouldn’t allow it to remain. “Do you really like art?” She asked, feeling less forced than the first time.

Peter didn’t think before he answered. “Yeah, I do. I was really looking forward to the field trip that day—my friend, MJ,” he blushed at the mention of her name. “She was going to show me a new photo exhibit that the museum had just opened up, and I was really excited to see it—plus Uncle Ben used to take me there when I was a kid.” He added, unprompted. “He needed to make sure my brain didn’t jam up with cogs and gears, he’d say.” He chuckled quietly, “But then…” Peter shrugged, the words no longer coming to him.

This time, the quiet served a purpose and so it was left to sit—until Peter was ready. 

“So, tell me about the statue.” Peter piped up as he walked towards it. “And I have to ask, because it’s me—Am I allowed to touch this? ‘Cuz it’s screaming for me to—”

Mrs. Stark took the cue, gladly it seemed. Heavy stuff was over for now and it was time to move on.

“Queen Ramonda didn’t say either way, but this bust dates back to the 1600s so I’d wager a guess that we’ll just be looking with our eyes today. Alright, Peter?” She put a firm hand on Peter’s back, but gave a teasing wink.

Peter slumped in mock defeat. “Fine,” he pretend-grumped and then spent the next twenty minutes really looking at each piece of art with snippets of information being shared by Mrs. Stark. “MJ would definitely love this.” He decided. “She says everything you need to know about a civilization is demonstrated by how it treats its artists.” He smiled. “I wish I had my phone so I could take some pics to show her how—“ He stopped talking. “Oh.” He was growing tired of fading off into new realizations.

Mrs. Stark noticed his shift in mood and moved closer to him, “Peter? Are you alright?”

Peter stopped himself from answering immediately and focussed on the painting in front of him. He was trying to wrap his brain around another ‘something’ that he hadn’t considered and needed to not have another stupid breakdown in front in front of someone he didn’t really know. Seriously, Mr. Stark was bad enough—but to do it in front of his wife? He let out a torturous scream... in his head, which synced up to the actual heavy sigh he released. “Mrs. Stark? How do I find out if someone was snapped?” He tried not to sound so lost and pathetic but it couldn’t be helped. “I mean, the last time I saw Ned and MJ, I was jumping off of a school bus and heading towards that stupid space donut and now it’s been five years so who knows where they could be?”      

She stepped closer still and put an arm around his shoulder. “There’s a registry, Peter. I can check it for you right now or we can check together when we get home, if you’d like... but maybe Tony already knows?” Mrs. Stark gave his shoulder a squeeze. “He was a little...” she seemed to search for a word before she continued, “hyper-focussed when he got back from Titan and anything that impacted the people in his inner circle was at the top of his agenda.” She turned to face him, keeping the contact. “That included you, so...”

Peter couldn’t make the decision. He simply couldn’t, and tried to let Mrs. Potts know, but all he could croak out was, “I... I...”

She enveloped the boy in a hug once she saw the impending panic, and he was remarkably okay with it, even as he tentatively returned the embrace.

“I know you don’t know me as well as the others, Peter, but I’ve gotten to know you through Tony and May—and I want you to know that I’m here for you, too, alright?”

He nodded into her shoulder.

“Doing all of this now, or in hour or even a day—it doesn’t change anything. It can wait until you’re ready. Okay? I know you’re physically all better now, but you’re still allowed to take time.”

He breathed in a calming breath, and exhaled.

“You have so many people in your corner, sweetie. You’ll get through this.”

He nodded again and stepped back from her after a second’s hesitation. “Um, thanks, Mrs. Stark. Sorry about that.” He chuckled nervously and dragged his hand through his hair.  

“That’s not something to apologize for, Peter. Not ever.” She lightly scolded. “Now, did you want to look at another painting? Or did—“

“I’d like to look!” Peter suddenly blurted and then realized how crazy he must have sounded. “I mean, um... would it be alright if I used your phone to take a look? – If it’s not too much trouble. I just... I’d... I really want to know. That’s all... I think.”

“That’s not a problem at all.” She collected her phone from the coffee table where she’d discarded it before their impromptu art tour and tapped at the screen. “I haven’t been on the app since before so I’m not sure if or how it’s been organized, but there is a search function.” She swiped the screen, tapped an icon, and handed the phone over. “It looks like we have another ten or so minutes before Tony gets back, and Wong should be shortly after, so...”

Peter took the phone and stared wide-eyed at the screen.

“Do you want me to look for you?”

Peter shook his head. “I think I’m okay. I think it’s just... I just did the whole ‘tell me now’ thing with May and that didn’t work out so well for me, ya’ know? And here I am doing it again like an idiot. I can’t help but think—” He cut himself off.

“I can understand your hesitancy.” Mrs. Stark offered. “You’re in control here, though, so just say the word...”

The screen darkened in warning of the pending lock screen. He swiped his thumb across the gorilla glass and it lit up again. He thought about it for a second then looked up at Mrs. Stark. “Would it be okay if I did this alone?”

“Of course,” she replied. “I’ll just step out while you—“She moved toward the suite door.

“No!” He called out to her. “Please don’t leave—just, can you maybe just hang out in the other room?” He blushed at his neediness. “I don’t want to be ALONE alone—just a little alone. And this should only take a second, right?” He tried to explain, and failed.

“I completely get it.” She pointed toward the bedroom she’d shared with Mr. Stark. “I’ll sneak in there and wait until you decide you’re ready. Does that work?” She asked.

“Yeah, um, thanks.”

She didn’t say anything else, just stepped into the bedroom and smiled at him in encouragement as she closed the door behind her.

And Peter was left holding the phone, with a search screen glaring back at him.

It wasn’t a big deal, right?

He tried to convince himself as he sat himself down on the couch.

Of course it wasn’t.

Not at all.

Which was why he held his breath as he first typed in “Edward Leeds.”

A couple thousand “Edward Leeds” suddenly filled the screen, primarily out of the UK. Of course it couldn’t be that easy he thought, and Peter was almost overwhelmed—until he caught sight of the ‘refine search’ field at the top of the new screen.

He remembered the day he’d met his best friend, and how insistent the boy was that Edward was a loser name—that Ned was where it was at and he’d be forever known only by that... ‘but don’t tell my mom, okay?’ Peter chuckled as he typed exactly that under “Nicknames” and pressed ‘go.’

Three hundred seven “Edward ‘Ned’ Leeds” popped up that time, which was definitely a more manageable number, even if it still sucked. Peter wasn’t shocked to see that most of them were still scattered through the UK, but with the list not going on forever, he could see all of those other Neds scattered through Australia, Canada, and even parts of Africa and South America. The twenty-eight US Neds were scattered throughout the country—but he only had his eye out for one Edward ‘Ned’ Leeds of New York, specifically Queens—and the one word beside his name in red: BLIPPED.

It was like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders, and with the knowledge that he wasn’t going to be alone when he got back home, he frantically typed in “Michelle Jones.” He had to remind himself that she also had a nickname so he wouldn’t freak out completely when the kazillion Michelle Jones filled the screen. He hit ‘refine search’ once more and typed in the two letters—‘m’ and ‘j.’

0 results showing.

Peter entered her name again, hated himself just a little for not knowing her middle name—if she even had a middle name—and hit ‘go.’ He refined the search again. Hit ‘go’ again.’

0 results showing.

“shit.”

“Language, kid. My virgin ears can’t handle that kind of potty talk.”

Peter did NOT jump a couple of feet of the couch and let loose a high pitched scream of terror when the unexpected voice came from behind him.

The door to the bedroom flew open and slammed against the wall as Mrs. Stark rushed into the living room calling out, “Peter! What’s wrong?!”

Mr. Stark’s laughter told her everything she needed to know and before a chest clutching Peter had even turned completely to glare at the man, Mrs. Potts was smacking him on the arm. “Tony, you jerk! Be good!”  

“Hey!” He exclaimed as he tried to get away from his wife’s mock fury, “I didn’t know he hadn’t heard me come in!” He dodged another playful swat. “C’mon, Pep! Give me a break!”

She stopped her attack on Mr. Stark after giving him what Peter could only describe as a death stare and immediately turned her attention to Peter. "Are you okay, honey?" she asked.

Peter shook his head even as he tried to catch his breath. "Geez, Mr. Stark! Give a man some warning next time!"

Still trying to get his giggles under control, Mr. Stark defended himself. "You've got your Peter-tingle, kid. I figured you knew I was there!"

Mr. Stark was not endearing himself to the boy in this moment. "It's my spider-sense, Mr. Stark—Peter-tingle is stupid. I don't care what Aunt May says about it, and anyways, it only works when someone is trying to hurt or kill me. You don't count as that... even though I was about a second away from dying from a heart attack." Peter breathed deep, trying to calm his heart. "Geez. Not cool, man. Not cool at all."

Mr. Stark jumped over the back of the couch and landed with a bounce beside Peter. "Aw, kid. I am sorry, but you were just sitting there and I was so excited to tell you about my visit with T'challa-- but... yeah, I guess you were a million miles away then?

Peter couldn't speak for a few seconds, as his mind re-focussed on the phone in his hand. "Um, no. Not that far-- just in Queens, I guess?"

Mr. Stark looked confused. "Queens?"

"Yeah," he answered back. "I was checking to see who'd been snapped and who hadn't, and, yeah..."

The sadness reflecting in Mr. Stark's face told Peter that he knew. "Peter, you could have asked." He sighed. "We just keep messing up, huh?" He sidled up closer to Peter and slung his arm around him again. "Well, Ned was snapped, but I guess you've seen that, right?"

Peter nodded 'yes.'

"Don't panic about him," Mr. Stark assured him. "He's safe and sound with his family and is waiting for you to call him when you get home."

"How...?"

"Happy does more than empty storage lockers, buddy. I promise you, Ned and his family are fine and your Guy in the Chair is ready and waiting for your return."

"Thank goodness." Peter breathed a sigh of relief. "But did you check up on MJ, too? Where is she? Is she safe, too?"

"Well, your friend MJ, she obviously didn't get snapped," Mr. Stark gestured the phone in Peter's hand, "And by the time we were in communication with people there at the tower, she had already tried to set up camp in the lobby and was going to wait for me to get back... well, for you to get back, but that didn't work out so..."

Peter couldn't hide his confusion.

"Don't worry. She’s good, I promise. We set her up in a suite, too. Her mom had been snapped, but her step-dad was still in the picture so she decided she needed to bail, but fast. I guess he was a real winner so..."

Peter snorted at the understatement. "You could say that."

Mr. Stark did his crooked eyebrow thing and Peter knew he needed to explain. "Let's just say that Spider-Man had to make a visit or two to the apartment when MJ's mom was working overnight shifts.

Mr. Stark almost growled at that information. "Well then I don't feel nearly so bad about hiding her away until she could head off to college."

"Good. You shouldn't-- but college?"

"Of course college. MJ's smart as a whip, and I wasn't gonna let that brain rot at some community college because her low-life step dad was drinking away her college fund."

Peter smiled bigger than he could remember at that, "You sent her to college?"

"You know, you could just call her when you get back, you know. I'm sure she'd love to hear from you. Besides, she may seem tough as nails, but that kid gets homesick just like the rest of them."

Peter flushed and fiddled with the phone he kept forgetting he still held. "Um, yeah, I'm pretty sure that twenty-three year old MJ is not waiting for a call from me."

"C'mon, Pete, maybe she's spent the last five years living a different life than you all had planned, but you were still one of her best friends and that doesn't change."

Peter smiled again, a little more tentative. "You don't think she'll think it's weird?"

And Mr. Stark laughed again. "It's MJ, of course she'll think it's weird, but if you think she'll give two craps about that, then you didn't know her nearly as well as you say you did."

Peter knew he was right, and was just about to say so when there was a knock at the door and Mr. Wong was hollering through it. "Let's go, Stark, I left something simmering on the stove back at the Sanctum Sanctorum."

Mrs. Stark was the one to actually open the door to the man, and Peter stood up to introduce himself to the man-- or at least he thought he would. Mr. Wong focussed completely on the man still sitting on the couch, "Stark."

Mr. Stark lifted himself off the couch and turned to face him. "Wong."

The men simply stared at each other, assessing, when Mr. Stark finally spoke. “Look, Wong, I shouldn’t have been so glib about the whole,” Mr. Stark waved his hands in the air, “thing, and I’m sorry. Let’s just call it good and be done, okay?”

Wong stared, but said nothing.

“Really?”

A dead stare.

“Ugh. Fine.”

Peter watched Mr. Stark work himself up to do... something. Whatever it was, it had to be awful for Mr. Stark’s reaction.

"Oh, great and powerful Wong..." and then Mr. Stark stopped. He huffed and put his hands on his hips. "Are you really going to make me say this?"

Mr. Wong stared back, "You know my conditions."

"Fine."

Was Mr. Stark sulking?

He started again, "Oh, great and powerful Wong..." and then he stomped his foot. "Look, I said I was sorry. I won't be so--"

"You'd have been done by now if you stopped delaying, Stark. I'm waiting."

Peter looked to the door where Mrs. Stark was still standing. She was looking just as confused as Peter felt.

Mr. Stark took a deep breath and started once more. "Oh, great and powerful Wong." He paused, but only to clear his throat. "It must have been cold there in my shadow, to never have sunlight on your face. You were content to let me shine, that's your way. You always walked a step behind. So I was the one with all the glory, while you were the one with all the strength. A beautiful face without a name...”

Peter couldn’t believe what he was hearing and side-stepped cautiously away from the men and closer to Mrs. Stark, whose mouth was hanging open in disbelief. “Um, Mrs. Stark, is Mr. Stark quoting Bette Midler lyrics?”

She could only nod.

“Okay,” he squeaked back. “Just wanted to make sure we were seeing the same thing.”

It took a minute for him to make his way through all the lyrics, but just as Mr. Stark rattled off the last lines of the song, Mr. Wong folded his arms and smiled in sick satisfaction. “Perfect. I’m sure Mr. Master of the Mystic Arts will appreciate your cooperation while he’s matching socks for the next month.”

Mr. Stark sputtered in disbelief, but before he could say an actual word, Mr. Wong turned to Peter, bowed, and smiled. “Ah, young Mr. Parker. It is a pleasure to finally meet you now that you are awake.”

Peter bowed back shyly, but Mr. Stark had finally found his words. “Wait a minute here. You said that I’d offended you and that you’d only forgive me if I quoted—“ He blustered a little more, “You said it was soothing!”

Mr. Wong laughed stiffly. “I know what I said! But I’d already bet Stephen that I could get you to quote a song from an 80s soundtrack and I really wanted to get out of laundry.”

“And making dinner, maybe? Is he actually watching that pot on the stove, too?” Mr. Stark snarked back.

“Nah. We’re ordering pizza tonight. I just wanted you to hurry, is all.” Wong turned his attention back to Peter. “And I can imagine you want to get home, too.”

Peter, who was quietly chuckling at the interaction, nodded. “Yes, please, Mr. Wong,” he answered back politely. “If it’s not a problem?”

“It’s just Wong, kid, and because you asked so nicely,” he made a point to stare accusingly at Mr. Stark and then looked back to Peter, “I’ll get right to it.” He addressed the room. “Do you have everything you need? Polite or not, I’m not coming back for a toothbrush.”

“I’m all set, Mr. Wong, but, I guess, um...” Peter stood patiently while Mr. And Mrs. Stark took the hint and rushed into the bedroom to do a quick once over and grab the already packed suitcase. It was barely a minute before they were back and ready to go.

Wong nodded in satisfaction. “Alright then, let’s go.”

Peter watched in fascination as Mr. Wong placed a weird ring on his left hand and started making a circular motion with his right. In only seconds, sparks flew and a circle formed, then grew larger, and larger—and then large enough that they’d all be able to step through without even needing to duck their heads. “How does this work? Do you come through with us?” Peter asked.

Mr. Wong smiled again and shook his head. “No, I’ll head back to the Sanctum and replay my memories for Stephen after you’ve all stepped through, so get a move on.” He gave a teasing wink then gestured to the circle, still sparking. “There’s nothing special to it, Peter. Whenever you’re ready.”

Peter’s capacity for boldness had apparently fled and he stared timidly at the circle.

Mrs. Stark stepped up, pulled her phone from Peter’s hand and then grabbed hold of it. “Now that you’ve mentioned it, I think I could go for pizza, too. What do you say, Peter?”

He appreciated the anchor, grabbed onto it. “Sure, Mrs. Stark. That sounds great.” He turned to Mr. Wong one last time. “Thank you for doing this, Mr. Wong. I’m grateful—and I guess for all the things you and the other wizards did for everyone.”

Wong snorted. “We’re sorcerers, Peter, and don’t let this guy tell you anything different.” He thumbed over at the waiting Mr. Stark. “And you’re welcome. Now go, kick your feet up, and order that pizza. We’ll see each other again.”

Peter grinned back at the man—sorcerer. “If you say so—take care.” And he and Mrs. Stark stepped through what Peter figured had to be some sort of portal. “Mr. Stark?” Peter called back, “Are you coming?”

“One sec, Pete,” Mr. Stark replied and turned back to Mr. Wong saying something that Peter couldn’t hear for the distortion between the two locations.

But if he could have heard, he’d have heard Mr. Stark give a tentative thank you for the show— that it would be something Peter could laugh about for a while.

And Wong’s reply. “He’ll need the happy memories, Stark. Help him make them.”  

#fanfiction #IronDad and SpiderSon #Avengers: Endgame #non-compliant #ao3fic #AO3 fanfic #OBlossom

[f4liveblogarchives]

Fantastic Four Vol 1 #239

Thur Dec 17 2020 [10:52 PM] Umbramatic: :O [10:52 PM] Wack'd: I'm gonna guess Batman. You'd never expect that

[10:53 PM] Umbramatic: its the spanish inquisition [10:54 PM] Wack'd: So this mystery guest is a woman with short black hair, having come to see the Four all the way from Arizona on a matter of life or death. She also mentions in thought balloons that

"It's been so long--so many years since we last saw each other. I wonder if he ever thinks of me--of us."

[10:55 PM] Bocaj: I don't think I know of anyone with black hair [10:55 PM] Wack'd: Lucky for her, especially given it's the dead of night, the Four's little corner of the Baxter now has a receptionist. Uh. Kinda.

[10:57 PM] Wack'd: Reed meanwhile has been up for three days straight trying to fix the current Ben related-fuckup. He blamed himself, of course. Sue tries to reassure him that Ben probably doesn't hold him accountable [10:58 PM] Wack'd: Huh!

[10:58 PM] Wack'd: You know what? Fair dues. I did not see this coming. [10:59 PM] maxwellelvis: Doctors Hate Her! [10:59 PM] Bocaj: I always thought of Aunt Petunia not appearing until later [10:59 PM] Bocaj: In my mind she was sort of a the ghost for a while in the sense of sir not appearing [10:59 PM] Wack'd: I mean hey, twenty years is a hell of a while. [10:59 PM] maxwellelvis: As an aside, from what I remember of Ben's wedding, it looks like Aunt Petunia started aging in real time as if the Four had gotten their powers NOW as in 1982 [11:00 PM] Wack'd: "Doctors Hate Her!" Funny you say that max because Ben describes Petunia as a "genuine country doctor." [11:00 PM] maxwellelvis: Ha! [11:01 PM] Wack'd: So Petunia meets the gang. Sue mentions she was expecting someone older, which Petunia takes in stride [11:02 PM] Wack'd: It turns out Petunia married into the family. She, uh. Well. [11:02 PM] Wack'd: Ben's Uncle Jake got into an auto accident, which killed his wife. Petunia, then a student nurse, became his medical student, and then his wife. [11:02 PM] Wack'd: That...sure is a course of events! [11:03 PM] Bocaj: 😬 [11:03 PM] Bocaj: That feels like it fits into a trend with Byrne [11:03 PM] Wack'd: Doesn't it just. (Though I will again point out he is not responsible for Sue having been creepily young when she and Reed hooked up. That's Lee.) [11:04 PM] maxwellelvis: I can see why Slott decided to retcon Aunt Petunia into the grandmotherly type for the wedding. [11:04 PM] Bocaj: Oh now I know where MCU Aunt May has absorbed life force from [11:04 PM] Wack'd: So the "life or death" matter involves her home out in Arizona with Jake. The whole town is in danger of being "frightened to death." [11:05 PM] maxwellelvis: So call Mystery Incoporated [11:05 PM] maxwellelvis: Oh wait, this is 1982, Mystery Inc.'s broken up. [11:06 PM] Wack'd: So. Uh. This is Uncle Jake.

[11:06 PM] Wack'd: And this is Aunt Petunia.

[11:07 PM] maxwellelvis: Yeah, she'd have to have a few more gray hairs than that if she's known Ben since he was a boy, I think. [11:07 PM] Wack'd: She does not seem to have. [11:08 PM] Wack'd: So the Four arrive in Benson, Arizona, and the narration informs us that Ben had been the only one who approved of Jake marrying Petunia, and. [11:09 PM] maxwellelvis: That's what all the instances of Ben invoking her name had led me to believe. [11:09 PM] Wack'd: Look I want to take for granted this is messed up and move on but the damn book seems dead set against me doing this. [11:10 PM] maxwellelvis: Well, anyways, I guess that means we've hit the OTHER side of John Byrne's run. [11:10 PM] maxwellelvis: Aspect, perhaps [11:10 PM] Wack'd: Sue mentions we don't know much about Ben's past. Ben says his mom and died died when he was a teen and Jake raised him. [11:10 PM] Wack'd: (We don't really know much of Reed's past at this point, though I am given to understand this will also change in the near future.) [11:11 PM] maxwellelvis: This part is just Byrne telling Steve Gerber he can fuck off. [11:11 PM] Wack'd: Gerber, I assume, would instruct Bryne to get in line. [11:12 PM] Wack'd: Racism? Anyone want some racism? Anyone think what this story could really use, right about now, is some racism?

[11:13 PM] Bocaj: Eesh [11:13 PM] maxwellelvis: (Gerber I think was one of the first writers to use the "Ben grew up on Yancy St." backstory) [11:14 PM] maxwellelvis: (Unless he didn't write that issue of Marvel Two-In-One, in which case it would probably be Roy Thomas that Byrne was dismissing here) [11:16 PM] maxwellelvis: (I would look this up, but I physically cannot get to my Essential 2-in-1 collection atm) [11:16 PM] Wack'd: So Ruth's child assistant(?) Wendy is upset that Ruth, rather than just appreciating the arrowhead, started a whole excavation. She has fond memories of this place because when her mom was sick they'd come to the site and collect rocks and whatnot. [11:16 PM] Wack'd: So that's not ominous.

[11:17 PM] Wack'd: We skip forward to that night, where two of Ruth's more non-child students are doing some late-night archeology. A mist comes at them and then BAM! Scared to death! [11:18 PM] Wack'd: MEANWHILE IN THE HIMALAYAS [11:19 PM] maxwellelvis: I was putting something in the oven, thinking "Oh man, it better not be the Miracle Man again" and then we cut to the Himalayas [11:19 PM] Wack'd: Quicksilver has been fighting some kind of war, apparently, while Crystal--suffering complications from a half-mutant half-Inhuman pregnancy--is being treated by whoever this guy is.

[11:20 PM] Wack'd: Pietro here is apparently the only guy in all of Attilan who's not come down with some sort of mysterious disease. [11:20 PM] maxwellelvis: He looks like the Leader, if the Leader was slowly turning into a raisin. [11:20 PM] Wack'd: And Attilan is being destroyed, leaving Pietro as their only hope. [11:21 PM] maxwellelvis: Oh yeah, he just looks like the PICTURE of health here, don't he [11:21 PM] Umbramatic: gfrtvtigyhhuihjio;opkp [11:21 PM] Bocaj: The funny thing is that mutant and inhuman genes apparently cancel out [11:22 PM] Bocaj: Or Crystal and Pietro won the silliest genetic lottery [11:22 PM] Wack'd: Back in Arizona, Reed is having no luck cracking the case, while Frankie and Wendy get some bonding time in

[11:23 PM] Wack'd: So, uh. Because this story just did not have enough going on, it turns out Wendy's dad is beating her. [11:23 PM] Umbramatic: oh [11:24 PM] Wack'd: Frankie tries to intervene but Wendy begs her to back off, so she figures there's nothing to be done and leaves. [11:24 PM] Bocaj: Comic are you sure you're up to this content [11:25 PM] Wack'd: I feel like Reed should be caught a bit more flatfooted by someone he looks up to intellectually telling him he can't fix things with guesswork.

[11:26 PM] Wack'd: Sue and Ben want to take action of some kind but Reed points out that, uh, they can't really punch their way out of this one. [11:27 PM] maxwellelvis: I'd make more scooby-doo jokes, but John Byrne deciding to put a Very Special Episode in here has kind of made that feel... not so fun anymore. [11:28 PM] Wack'd: That night, Wendy sneaks out of her house to go talk to the mists. Turns out that’s who her wonderful friends are. [11:30 PM] Wack'd: I think she wants to beg them for mercy? The narration boxes get kinda cryptic. Anyway if that's what she's done, it reeeaaally doesn't work.

[11:30 PM] Wack'd: "What was that about not being able to fight our way out?" [11:32 PM] Bocaj: I think Slott revisited some of this [11:32 PM] Bocaj: I vaguely remember mists and gremlins when Franklin and Valeria were staying with aunt petunia post wedding [11:33 PM] Bocaj: But as it was the same story where Sue made Doom naked on a live broadcast the details escape me [11:33 PM] Wack'd: So on top of these weird things the entire town is now also set on fire and also in a giant windstorm. The Four put out the fires but the damage is done and most of the town decides to evacuate. [11:33 PM] Umbramatic: oh yes that one [11:35 PM] Wack'd: what the fuck what the fuck what the FUCK

[11:36 PM] maxwellelvis: Oh of COURSE Byrne has Reed sympathize with an abusive parent. [11:37 PM] Wack'd: Okay so for starters, because this is the thing I'm the least mad about, everything about this resolution is fucking nonsense. We know basically nothing about any of the other people who got "frightened to death" and so as the readers had no ability to draw upon our own knowledge of their morality or why they might not be able to handle seeing visions of their worst selves. [11:37 PM] Wack'd: From there we get to the fact that, for all the ways Ruth and Reed protested earlier, this is a massive pile of assumptions with absolutely no backing in fact or evidence. [11:37 PM] Umbramatic: geez [11:38 PM] Wack'd: Speaking of Ruth, she said that the arrowhead was crucial, and Ben speculated that may be the excavation released the spirits and they needed to be re-buried. They don't out right say it, but this may as well be a "ancient Indian burial ground" plot. [11:39 PM] Umbramatic: yeesh [11:39 PM] Wack'd: And from there we get, yes, Reed saying that their job is not to judge people, therefore they can't do anything about an abusive parent. Which is frankly just moral cowardice and also really gross. [11:40 PM] maxwellelvis: And also a grim portent of things to come in this era. [11:41 PM] Wack'd: And so the story ends, with. I think the implication is that Wendy asked her "friends" to take care of her dad for her? Which is okay, I guess, but doesn't really fix the way everybody else reacts to this.

[11:42 PM] Wack'd: The story is also just plain all over the place. There's absolutely no reason for the characters who get the Four involved in the plot to be Ben's Aunt Petunia--except-- [11:42 PM] Wack'd: Oh. The whole town got judged. [11:43 PM] Wack'd: Did John Bryne really just write a plot where a bunch of cosmic arbiters of justice basically give the okay to marrying your student [11:43 PM] maxwellelvis: RED FLAG [11:44 PM] Wack'd: This a lot, huh. [11:45 PM] Wack'd: Well, maybe whatever Inhumans nonsense is going on will help clear my head.

#1982 #John Bryne #The Main Book