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forasecondtherewedwon · 3 years

Note

hey I loved what you wrote for sarahbucky! You are so talented. I was wondering if you are comfortable writing any NSFW content or smut related content for this pairing? If you are I would love you to write something, anything of the sort. If you're not comfortable that's absolutely fine!!

Chasing Water Pumps

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Sarah Wilson Rating: E Word Count: 5288

Summary: After banishing Sam, Sarah gets Bucky's help reinstalling the boat's water pump.

The water pump sits there on the dock through the morning. It sits there at midday. In the late afternoon, Bucky laughs when Sam almost falls over it as he walks backwards, waving his hands to guide a reversing pickup truck into position. A neighbour bringing spare lumber so they can replace a few rotting boards on the Wilsons’ boat.

Bucky can see—has been able to see all day—that Sam’s itching to just fix the damn pump back into position. Sam’s conscientious, neat, completing one job before moving on to the next, replacing pliers in the toolbox after rewiring the radio, coiling up the cord of a borrowed drill so no one can trip over it. Leaving a hulking piece of machinery just sitting there is killing him. All because Sarah won’t let him touch it.

For Bucky, watching this claim-staking over an old water pump is hilarious. It’s also something he takes absolutely seriously, backing away from the thing the minute Sarah ordered the two of them to quit tinkering and just leave it alone. He’s got no issue ceding to her authority. Oh, he’ll argue with Sam about other parts of the project, but he’s not gonna push back against Sarah. He’s only here for a couple days and she already won his loyalty by letting him bunk on her couch last night. They might be repairing a boat, but Bucky’s not making any waves.

When the sun starts going down and the helpers from the community start heading home to their suppers, almost as many of them shake Bucky’s hand as Sam’s. Bucky feels really good about that. He likes that they’ve become comfortable with him—many of them slapping his Vibranium shoulder as they take his right hand, like it’s just an arm. He likes the lingering warmth of the day and how it’s dried the back of his shirt where he sweat through it. He likes squinting into the sun to watch the vehicles pull away and seeing Sarah standing there, smiling at him. Cupping a hand above his eyes, he smiles back.

“Alright,” Sam says, taking a big step to bring him from boat to land. “Let’s get this water pump back in place.”

Immediately, Sarah comes forward.

“Uh uh, no. That’s not your job.”

“This whole thing is my job,” her brother protests.

Bucky stands on the sidelines, content to witness Sam lose this argument. Getting to study the way the sinking, burning glow of the sun catches on Sarah’s earrings is the equivalent of being handed an ice cream. The breeze that blows her open button-down against her to show him the intimate dip of her waist is the cherry on top of that ice cream. His gaze trails unhurriedly back up to her face and he sees that she’s been watching him admire her. Normally, staring is his default expression, but now his heart hammers with giddy yearning as he holds her eye. She smiles fleetingly before looking back to Sam. Oh right, Sam’s talking. Bucky had kinda tuned him out.

“It won’t take long.”

“No it won’t,” Sarah agrees. “Not if I do it. You’ve messed around with that pump enough for one day.”

“Sarah, come on. Be practical,” Sam pleads. “You can’t do it by yourself.”

“I won’t do it by myself. Bucky here can do the heavy lifting.”

Ok, he’s surprised about that, but when she glances to him, he nods readily. He refuses to meet Sam’s side-eye. He’s sure the message is ‘You traitor.’ Ignoring him, Bucky beams at Sarah.

“That’s what I’m here for,” he tells her.

“And what am I supposed to do?” Sam demands. “Watch?”

“Since you asked,” Sarah informs him, “you’re supposed to go pick your nephews up from AJ’s friend Marco’s house. If they haven’t eaten yet, feed them.”

“But—”

Sam motions indignantly towards Bucky, but Sarah waves away his complaint.

“You asked what I need from you and I told you. Let us get on with what we’ve gotta do here. We’re losing daylight.”

“You heard her, Samuel,” Bucky says, striding to the pump.

The wrench he and Sam passed back and forth while unbolting it is in the top tray of the toolbox when he flips it open. Tucking the wrench into his back pocket, Bucky turns and heaves the pump off the ground. Sarah’s watching. He throws her a smile with a little upward jerk of his chin. She rolls her lips together like she’s hiding her own smile but stands firm until Sam gives up and stalks off across the boatyard.

“You think it’d be cruel to yell after him not to wait up?” Sarah asks Bucky nonchalantly, hand on her hip as the two of them observe her brother’s retreat.

Bucky almost drops the pump before hugging it to himself too tightly, stopping when he hears the metal creak. But he tries to be cool.

“Only if you mean it,” he says.

She spares him a glance that doesn’t tell him either way and walks past, stepping onto the boat.

“You got it?” she asks.

“Yep,” Bucky assures her, adjusting his grip and jumping down onto the deck. Coulda stepped. Wanted to show off. Story of his life since he met Sarah Wilson maybe 36 hours ago.

He follows her into the cabin and she digs through a box of supplies, grabbing a flashlight.

“Might need this soon.”

Her explanation’s unnecessary (the sky’s darkening above them) and Bucky can see the nervousness in it, how she self-consciously plays with the hem of her t-shirt and twists her earring now that they’re together in a semi-enclosed space.

“Unless that arm of yours glows in the dark,” she adds.

“Unfortunately not,” he says with a smile as they duck below deck. His feet clomp sturdily down the steps, but Sarah still looks up at him from the bottom like he might teeter. “You shoulda been there while they were deciding on the specs.”

Sarah laughs, navigating the protruding inner workings of the boat more smoothly than movie spies crossing rooms streaked with red lasers. (Stupidest fucking scenes Bucky’s ever seen.)

“That was in Wakanda, right?”

“Sam told you?”

“He did. I guess you’ve seen a lot. Been a lot of places,” Sarah amends.

For a minute, his throat’s thick. She corrected herself to make sure he knew she wasn’t being nosy about his past. He wouldn’t mind. It’d be fair of her to bring up any worries she had, what with the two of them being alone here. But then, maybe he doesn’t make her nervous in that way. She’s the one who asked him to stay. (Or just told him he was staying more than asked, really.)

“So has Sam,” Bucky points out.

“Yeah, but Sam has to come back here to avoid getting an earful over the phone. Why would you wanna be here? Right here,” she adds, motioning to the spot where the water pump sat until early this morning. Bucky was one of the people who removed it, plus there’s a clear silhouette where the side rests against the boat, inside of which shape the wood’s less weathered, but he’ll be as clueless as Sarah wants if it results in more of this—her hand on his back as she trades places with him to guide him in ahead of her.

“It’s nice here,” he says simply. “Like a holiday.”

The instant he says it, he wants to backtrack. None of this is a holiday for the Wilsons; in spite of the block party atmosphere of the community coming together to restore the boat, they’re doing all this to ensure their livelihood. A good future for Sarah and her boys. She shoots him a benevolent smile like she knows he knows he just put his foot in his mouth. He can only shake his head at himself and carry on.

Squatting, Bucky aligns the holes in the pump’s base with those in the plate it has to mount back onto. They’re a little rusty, but the old blue paint’s just flaking, no problems with the actual integrity of the metal.

“You always do volunteer manual labour on your holidays?” Sarah jokes, putting a hand on his shoulder as she maneuvers around him. She drops to a crouch at his side and directs the beam of the flashlight down onto the pump.

“I like to be busy. I sleep better that way.”

“Until your host’s kids wake you up.”

“Aw, that was no problem.”

“Wrench?” she asks.

“Back pocket.”

Bucky could pass it to her. He could take one hand off the pump, retrieve the wrench, and hold it out for Sarah to grab. Hell, he could take both hands off the pump. The thing’s just sitting here. But he’s selfish, trying to make it look like he has to keep the pump from shifting out of the position he’s put it in, because he wants to find out what Sarah wants. He hasn’t completely thought this through, but some part of him’s saying a good way to find out what Sarah wants is to see if she’ll take the wrench from his back pocket while he’s squatting, jeans hugging his ass.

She laughs softly, looking at the floor.

She slides the wrench out of his pocket.

Now, there’s no actual contact required there, but she has touched him a couple times, so when she asks, “Bolts?” he looks at her in the dim light—flashlight still tilted towards the floor—and tells her, “Front pocket.”

When Sarah elects to maintain the angle of the light by holding the end of the flashlight in her mouth, Bucky thinks she might be capable of cruelty after all; he feels his face go slack at the sight of her lips around a fucking plastic cylinder. The choice leaves her hands free though, which is perfect because she apparently needs to grasp his knee with one for balance while the other goes to his hip, feeling out the line of his pocket. Bucky tries to breathe deep and even. This has gotta be it, the scenario Sam was most worried about when he left them here together.

Mercifully, when Sarah gets her fingers hooked into Bucky’s front pocket, she removes her other hand from his knee and uses it to hold the flashlight. He shifts forward onto his knees so his pocket isn’t pulled so tight and she can get her hand in there. Clearly a bad, terrifying plan now that his dick’s started to stiffen from the lingering image of the flashlight in her mouth and the proximity of her fingers to his crotch. It’s dark. Maybe she won’t see.

“Bolts,” Sarah says, wiggling her fingers deeper. “Nuts too?”

Their eyes meet and she pulls her hand back. Not too fast. Not like she embarrassed herself, saying something she didn’t mean to. Just like she did her bit and now the plan is to see what he’ll do. All he’s really capable of doing for the moment is extracting the nuts and bolts himself, dropping one of each into the raised palm she offers. He takes over with the flashlight and purposely doesn’t touch the end. It’ll drive him crazy if the plastic’s still wet.

“Thanks.”

“Yep.”

He spends three bolts being awkward, just pinching the head of each between his Vibranium fingers to hold them steady while Sarah tightens the nuts with the wrench from underneath the mounting plate. His other hand shines the light right where she needs it. They’re a different team than he and Sam are. Somehow, they can do two parts of the same job in the smallest scale, their hands practically on top of each other without either of them getting in the way. Bucky tries to think about that rather than her leg pressing against his or the fact that the gentle rock of the docked boat reminds him of rocking his hips forward when he… well. Does something he’s trying not to think about.

The wrench is old and though Sarah flicks the adjustment with her thumb to make it grip each nut in turn, it loosens and slips. It makes the task take longer and Sarah have to work harder. With two bolts to go, she sits back and pulls her button-down off, draping it over a pipe. Her t-shirt only catches Bucky’s eye because, even in here, the yellow’s so bright. It’s just the shirt. Absolutely not the shape of Sarah in it.

She leans back in, dropping the second last bolt through the hole. She feels beneath the plate to start the nut up the bolt’s threads with her fingers. With a soft noise of effort, Sarah simultaneously applies the wrench and reawakens Bucky’s erection.

“Sorry for keeping you from dinner,” she says, still tightening in the circle of light he provides. “You must be starving.”

“You have no idea.”

Bucky doesn’t mean for the words to sound the way they do, or maybe he does. Sarah falters, then finishes, but when she leans forward to fit the final bolt in place, the side of her breast presses his arm, and that’s the beginning of the end. Or possibly the end of the middle. Anyway, Bucky lets go of the flashlight and wraps his hand around Sarah’s waist instead. The flashlight must land on its button because the boat goes pitch-black. Why didn’t either of them think to turn the overhead light on? He hears the nut fall from her hand. It’s not one of the nuts he’s concerned with at the moment, so he tells himself they’ll look for it later and focuses on Sarah leaning in to find his lips in the dark.

Kissing her is… Hell, it’s something he’s been thinking about since they met yesterday. When she marched straight over to the boat and then changed her posture the second she spotted him. Bucky appreciates clear body language—it’s something he can do a quick read of and understand. If they’d had more time at that first meeting, of course he would’ve talked to her, flirted with more than a smile, but the smiles they swapped were an effective stopgap until they could end up right here. His mouth on hers. Being careful not to trap her braids under his fingers when he skims them up the back of her neck.

“Um,” Sarah says, breaking away with a shy laugh.

He keeps his hand on her lightly and feels her tilt her head forward like she’s avoiding his eye, even in the dark. Before he can worry that something is wrong, that he’s done something wrong, she lifts her head again and her braids flick, pattering across his forearm like rain.

“You should know,” she says, “since my husband passed, I haven’t really had a lot of time or inclination for this kinda thing, but...”

“That’s ok,” Bucky quickly assures her. “This doesn’t have to be anything. I didn’t mean to push.”

“And you didn’t.”

They sit in silence for a minute before he clears his throat.

“I’ve never… I’ve never had anybody special to me in that way, like your husband was to you, nobody to lose like that. But I do understand… uh, the sort of, um, momentousness… when it’s been a while.”

“You do?”

He can hear humour in her voice. This wasn’t supposed to be a funny conversation. Is he making it that weird?

“Sure. You know about me,” Bucky says quietly. He knows she must. She never asked who he was to Sam to be showing up here, being offered their couch for the night. Never asked about the arm, though he hasn’t tried to hide it. (He can’t remember the last time he just lived like this and the relief is enormous.)

“Tell me about the momentousness.”

He’d like to be able to see her better, but it’s also nice to know she has no idea the way he’s blushing over her request. It’s his own damn fault. Trying to be tactful and generous. Trying to say he knew how she felt, only for Sarah to call him on that. He’s gotta learn that this is not a woman who lets a man speak for her and, if he blunders into doing just that, she doesn’t let him off the hook. And she has a fish business. Who woulda thought.

“Well, it’s, uh…” Bucky rubs the back of his neck with the hand not cupping hers. “It feels like a big deal. Almost like being young all over again.”

“Hey,” she interjects, “some of us are still young.”

He laughs.

“Sorry. I just mean it’s… exciting. You know, thrilling. You wanna do everything at once but you’re also so scared to just…”

“Just…?”

“To just touch her,” he breathes out.

Sarah leans her head back so his hand’s not only touching her neck but holding it up. He laughs again as she straightens. He gets the point; he’s already touching her. So maybe it’s easier than even he thinks it is. Touch. Intimacy. Defiling the belly of a fishing boat with somebody who turned his head so fast he’s the one who needs something bolted back into place. Maybe one on either side of his neck, like Frankenstein’s monster. He sure does feel alive.

“I said I haven’t done this a lot lately,” Sarah says, loosely grasping his wrist. Bucky slips his hand off her neck to line it up with hers, lacing their fingers. “Not that it’s necessarily been that long since the last time I went on a date that ended with more than a kiss at the door.” Abruptly, she laughs. “I’m trying to tell you there’s a condom in the pocket of that shirt I threw over… wherever it got to. If you want this to keep going in a direction where you’d need to use it.”

“Yeah. Yes. I want that.”

“And not just to annoy Sam?”

“Not just.” Bucky smirks in the dark.

“Ok then.”

“I like you, Sarah,” he says as her fingers play with his. He shifts to face her better. “You don’t make things complicated.”

“I think we’ve both had enough of that.”

He can only make a noise of agreement as he comes close enough to feel out her mouth. He’s wishing he’d shaved his face smooth for this—obviously not as certain this encounter was going to happen today, or at all, as the woman who’s been carrying a condom in her pocket—but with a rough tilt of his head as he takes Sarah’s mouth harder, his cheek rubs against hers and she makes a sound into his mouth. A positive sound. An arousing sound. Bucky does something he never does and holds her face in both his hands, metal and skin. Sarah’s go to his hips, hooking into his beltloops, and they both rise up on their knees to press closer.

But she says, “Ouch, kneeled on the wrench,” and Bucky’s only being helpful when he moves his hands to the back of her thighs, running up over her ass as he urges her to her feet with him.

His hands behave themselves a little better when they’re both standing; he keeps them on the small of her back, scrunching her t-shirt in his fingers when she bows into him. He could kiss Sarah for a long time. It’s something he’s always enjoyed, got a lot of practice at when he was young, kissing in the back row of a theatre or savouring every moment until a girl’s curfew with some feverish necking in the alley around the corner from her family’s apartment. Nobody’s counting down the minutes on Bucky’s time with Sarah, so it’s looking like he might be able to just keep dragging his lips across hers for ages, stroking his tongue into her mouth. The geography decides otherwise.

He hears the speedboat’s motor approaching long before he really makes sense of the noise. That happens when the choppy wake hits Sarah’s docked boat, tossing her forward against him.

Alright, tossing him forward. He’s the one whose sea legs are for shit.

It’s evident that she feels his erection against her stomach. She’d have to be really unfamiliar with how this dance went not to notice with the way he’s swelling for her.

“Yeah?” Bucky checks when Sarah digs her fingers into his hips to hold him to her body.

“Yeah.”

He pulls out of her embrace to hunt down that shirt.

“You know, I’ve done this before.”

“I know. I’ve met your kids.” His voice says he’s joking even as his hands move desperately, caressing the boat’s innards in search of soft cotton.

“I mean specifically on this boat,” Sarah confesses, laughing.

Bucky hears a pair of thumps he determines to have been her shoes hitting the floor after the next sound he hears is her unzipping her pants. Wildly, he snatches her shirt from the pipe and dumps the condom out of the pocket and into his hand. He forces himself to calmly replace the shirt where he got it from so she can find it after—just the thought of there being an after has him hardening further.

“It’s startin’ to feel like I’m not so special,” he teases, lurching back to her when the speedboat seemingly swings around upriver and makes a second pass, causing the ground to slope once more.

“You might be,” she teases back. While his legs are tensed to keep his balance, Sarah has to be stretching up on her toes to brush her lips over his. “We’re gonna see about that.”

Her hands curl around the back of his neck as she presses up into the kiss. Bucky groans and gropes for her hips, condom caught between two fingers. His hands run over the sides of her underwear, but it’s mostly skin he touches. Warm and smooth. Kissing Sarah deeply, he traces the soft grooves of stretchmarks, signs of her body’s endurance. She’s given birth twice, lost her partner, come through the Blip and out the other side. This is a survivor’s body. Although she didn’t remove her shirt along with her pants, Bucky breaks the kiss to strip off his. With trembling fingers, he guides her hand from his neck to his shoulder, letting her feel the scars.

Sarah grazes her palm over him. It isn’t hesitant and it isn’t harsh. She touches the place where metal and skin converge the same way she’s touched his neck, his knee. Her other hand strokes over his chest, dawdling to outline his dog tags, then sliding lower. Her fingertips are so light on his abdomen that they almost tickle. The river flows around and against the boat in faint slaps. Sarah’s hand falls to fondle his erection and he gasps into the stillness.

He crowds into her and she presses back against the wall of the boat.

“Is it too cold?” he wonders.

“Cold?” she asks distractedly, popping open the button of his jeans. “No, I’m good.”

Smiling to himself, Bucky ducks his head until they’re almost kissing.

“Ok,” he says. “Well, you let me know.”

His hand wanders from her hip, down, then up her inner thigh. Sarah shivers but doesn’t say anything about being cold, so, breathing harder, Bucky touches his fingers to her underwear between her legs. He can tell she finds his tentativeness a little funny—she exhales a soft laugh—but he needs this short pause to stop him from getting too eager. Though he didn’t want to clarify, he’s figuring that Sarah probably had sex on this boat during her teenage years, and he really doesn’t want his touch to remind her of some adolescent boy’s horny fumblings. Not when the setting’s already bringing up memories for her.

“No heckling,” he jokingly protests.

“I’m not, I swear I’m not.”

He can hear the humour in her voice and he likes the way her words hitch into a panted breath when he relocates his hand to her stomach and nudges his fingers under the band of her underwear.

“Second thoughts?” Bucky asks before he touches her anywhere too interesting.

“Nope. Just a lotta thoughts about you lifting heavy loads off trucks and workin’ a wrench.”

“Yeah?” He pushes his face up under her jaw, kisses there while she tilts her chin to give him room. “You been thinkin’ I might be good with my hands, Sarah?”

He hears her shaky breath when he says her name and thinks there’s a chance he’s not too bad at this. Even now. Not with somebody he seemed to emotionally fall right into step with the instant they clapped eyes on each other.

“No might about it. I’ve been watching you for two days. I know you’re good with your hands.”

Pressing his mouth hard to hers, Bucky slides his fingers down towards warmth and, it turns out, wetness. He groans against her mouth and she jerks his zipper down with demanding fingers. Wedging her hands between his skin and his clothes, Sarah begins forcing his jeans and underwear off together. Even as he’s aching for her to get him naked, he’s gathering her body against his, arm wrapped securely around her back as his fingers slip through her arousal. He curls two fingers inside her and her hips jolt in an apparently automatic attempt to get him deeper. She tries to widen her legs for him, but his hand’s intrusion has stretched her underwear across her upper thighs, so he plucks at them hastily until they fall and she kicks them aside. His own bottom layers are hanging on around his knees. Bucky can’t be fucked to deal with that. He’s punched through a lot of walls rather than going through doors; he knows what is and isn’t a serious obstacle.

Sarah lifts her thigh to his hip and their mouths part with a ragged, shared breath. The Vibranium arm around her supports her—metal fingers clamped tight on the condom between them—as his other hand works her with more pressure when she asks for it in a moan.

“Can I get you off like this, or you want me some other way?” he pants.

It’s like Steve used to say about damn near everything—Bucky could do this all day. He withdraws his fingers from inside her to scrub his fingertips up and down over her clit.

“I’m sure you can,” Sarah says, chest heaving as her hips sway in response to his touch, “but…”

Her hands, which had climbed to his arms after undressing his bottom half, creep lower. The grip of one hand catches in his elbow, thumb to his pulse. The other wraps around his straining cock.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “But.”

Insistent on putting on the condom himself, he does it with one arm still encircling Sarah. While he’s tearing it open, he drops his face to her neck again. She sighs as he kisses down her throat and goes mmm when he licks along her collarbone. She’s sweaty, like him.

Though Bucky’s just dying to sink into her, holding her this close is a whole other kind of satisfying. He flicks the condom wrapper away and dips his head, taking hold of the front of Sarah’s yellow t-shirt with his teeth.

“Bucky! What…?”

But her hand pats the back of his head in time with her laughter as he drags the material up until it stays put above her breasts. Tragically, the ghost of Sarah’s horny teenage encounter on this boat possesses him and he’s compelled to mash his face into her cleavage as soon as it’s exposed. He rubs his lips over her breast and she takes the condom from him, reaching between them to roll it down his cock. The feel of her fist makes him grunt into her chest.

“You ready?” Sarah asks him.

Bucky lifts his head and looks at her. It’s dark, but not too dark to judge by her expression that she’s not just asking casually. This isn’t a carefree, youthful hookup—a couple teenagers sneaking onto a parent’s boat or perfecting their hickey-making technique in an alley. Is he ready? He hasn’t been. Not for the occasional assessing stare of a stranger on the sidewalk, or for dating apps and the staggeringly forward pictures people send in response to a simple ‘hi,’ or even for the low-stakes combo of beers and Battleship. But now? For Sarah?

“Yeah,” Bucky states, loud and clear, angling his hips forward when she takes her hands away.

“Alright,” she says, “so am I.”

He kisses her. He believes her.

He grips the underside of her raised thigh with one hand and his dick with the other, bending his knees slightly before pressing up into her. Heat slinks up his chest and twines around his neck like a scarf. Despite the tripping hazard of his pants around his legs, Bucky shuffles forward, holding Sarah so close. She doesn’t make a sound as he fills her, but when he pulls out and thrusts again, an uuuh catches in her throat. God, it feels good to be back in business.

Fingers digging into her leg and her ass, Bucky rocks his hips steadily, huffing sharply through his nose. Sarah’s hands move all over him. They’re on his shoulders, then squeezing his arms; grabbing his hips to encourage him to drive into her harder, then seizing his ass to hold him deep. When he does something good, he feels her tighten on his cock, a quick clutch and release. When he does something really good, she moans so loud the back of his neck tingles and he has to summon every bit of discipline he has not to just let go now.

The feel of the muscles in Sarah’s leg and ass flexing to sync the rhythm of their hips when things get rougher makes Bucky’s eyes roll back. He lifts her off the ground, thighs in his hands as he slings his hips sharply forward. Sarah curls into him, nipping one shoulder as she cups her hand over the metal of the other one. Her breasts bounce against his chest. He pins her between his groin and the boat and feels (and hears) it the second the motion of his hips drags at her clit.

“Bucky!” she gasps. “Don’t—”

“Stop?” he guesses, grinning even as he pants, even as he shifts his feet to make sure they’re gonna stay under him until this is over and he can set her down gently.

Sarah nods rapidly and Bucky keeps the closeness but progresses to fast, shallow thrusts. They should hum, like a machine, like a piston, like a pump, because that’s what it feels like, fucking her and falling for her, doing their dance with just the right friction. How it really sounds is wet, filthy, oh, but her smile is beautiful as she strives, fingers tangled in his dog tags. She comes calling his name. He’s right here, right there with her. She’s clenching so firmly around him that the pleasure might not end and he’ll just have to stay here on this boat, with her, and be Bucky, and get used to the luxury of it making sense again, his name in the mouth of somebody who needs him and wants him and could know him, after a few more nights on her couch and mornings with her kids. He could stand the sound of her name leaving his mouth every single goddamn day, but he’s gonna start with one day, this day, right now.

He says, “Sarah,” and wraps his arms around her, and hopes those arms feel strong.

#Anon you knew what you wanted and you asked for it nicely and I respect that #my writing #tfatws #tfatws spoilers #The Falcon and the Winter Soldier #Bucky Barnes #Sarah Wilson #bucky x sarah #sarahbucky

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just-dreaming-marvel · 3 years

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Sneak Peeks

Here’s some sneak peeks of what I’m currently working on! I hope that this gets you excited. I am also working on an RDJ!Sherlock Holmes x Reader series, but I’m saving that one for later.

It’s Always Been You ~ 155

“Hey, Herb!” Vision called again. Think you might’ve taken the hedge-trimming a little too far there, old chum.”

“So I have,” Herb answered. “Thanks, buddy.” He continued to saw through the wall.

“Yeah… Don’t mention it.” He headed for the front door.

“Vision,” Y/N called out, done watching from the sidelines.

“Yes?” He turned around to give her his attention. His eyes almost immediately squinted in curiosity. “Do I know you?”

“Yes. I’m… uh… I’m Agnes’ friend, from out of town.”

“Oh, yes. Right.” He clearly wasn’t convinced that was it, which gave Y/N hope. “Are you sure I don’t know you from anywhere else?”

“Vision… you do.”

Love and Medicine ~ 19

“So how did you break a guys penis?”

You gave him a look. “You know about Matt?” Clint nodded as you sighed. “Why does every guy I meet come with his own unique set of nightmarish humiliations?”

“Well…”

“Well what, Clint?”

“You’re clearly not over Steve. You want to be, but you’re not. So you’re trying to find a replacement, some temporary way to feel better and it’s not working. And, well, it’s not going to work because future meaningless one night—or multiple night—stands and problematic penises is not what you want. You want better and you deserve better.”

“I know… it just sucks that I still want Steve.”

“It’s going to suck until you find the right guy.”

You looked at your friend. “I thought he was the right guy… I guess I just have terrible judgement.”

I’m From Brooklyn, Too ~ 152

The next day, Y/N woke up to her and Tony’s separate beds having formed into one. Tony was weary of Y/N getting up and doing anything. She still looked sick and tired, but she was insistent that she had to get ready for the day. Especially since there was going to be a planning committee meeting for the fundraiser being held the next day, and Y/N felt the urge to go. Even though she really didn’t want to.

After getting AJ off to school and Tony off to work, Y/N got ready for the committee meeting. As she walked down the stairs, a knock sounded at the door. She opened it to reveal Agnes.

“Hey there, hun,” Agnes greeted, almost overly ecstatic.

Mother Doesn’t Always Know Best ~ Sam Wilson x Reader One Shot

“Or maybe if you stopped spending your days working out and shooting guns, you’d actually be found attractive,” she continued. “You need to be focused on becoming more like a housewife. That will make the men flock to you.”

“Mom, I really don’t—“

“There’s Matthew Brawnson. He owns the bar in town and he’s single. I’ve heard his looking for a wife, that he wants to have children. If you would just come home—“

“I gotta go, mom. Talk to you later.”

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azoraahai · 3 years

Note

DO ANOTHER ESSAY

of course!

here is another essay on sam wilson being an incredible character that too many people sleep on:

sam wilson, a.k.a. the falcon/captain america, is one of the most slept on characters within the mcu fandom. it’s truly sad and discouraging how the fandom tosses characters of color to the side to overhype others that aren’t really that interesting. whether you’re a comic fan or movie fan, sam wilson is a VERY interesting, wonderful, compassionate, and iconic character in both the movies and comics, and he does not deserve to be sidelined. to further expand this statement, i will begin to discuss my personal attachment towards him while referencing movies and some of the comics.

since avengers: endgame announced that sam wilson was going to take the mantle of captain america from steve rogers, i couldn’t be more excited for him to receive the attention he deserves. quite honestly, i didn’t expect it as well because i totally thought marvel would cop out of giving the shield to a character of color and give it to b*cky since he is extremely overhyped in the mcu. it’s disgusting, but it’s the truth with a lot of production studios unfortunately. however, they didn’t. they gave the shield to sam! and what became of it? racist remarks against sam wilson, as well as anthony mackie, and “fans” being butthurt when their white fav didn’t get the shield. trust me, i’ve had to witness this firsthand in anti posts, reblogs on MY and others gifsets, and plenty of other ways.

let me start by explaining that it is SO CLEAR that sam was the one who SHOULD’VE gotten the shield. hell, even the actors all agreed sam deserved it. if you don’t understand, i’ll tell you. sam wilson has always been a GOOD, KIND, COMPASSIONATE, SELFLESS, BRAVE, AND DEVOTED CHARACTER!!!! if i have to hear another person say “oh so was b*cky, he was just brainwashed and damaged!!!”, i will fucking lose it. just say you don’t give a fuck about characters of color. sam wilson is literally everything that the idol of captain america stood for. he wasn’t a perfect soldier, but a good man. he always did his best to do the right thing. he fought with steve and natasha WILLINGLY in captain america: the winter soldier. he wasn’t even involved, but he got himself involved because IT WAS THE RIGHT THING TO DO!! he risked his life to help steve and natasha to save the world from h.y.d.r.a. when he could’ve just let them handle it.

then, avengers: age of ultron, he mentions to steve that they’re trying to find a certain missing person. he spent his time trying to help steve find his best friend. be aware that this is the same best friend that attacked sam ( brainwashed or not, he still attacked him ). that could cause serious fucking trauma, and yet, SAM STILL HELPED FIND HIM FOR STEVE. in captain america: civil war, he stood up for what he knew was right and stuck by that decision. he didn’t believe the accords would solve anything and get in the way of the avengers from helping people in need. then, he went with steve to peggy’s funeral. sam didn’t even fucking know peggy ( from what we could tell in the movies ) and yet sTILL WENT TO SUPPORT STEVE. he went to comfort a friend to a funeral of a person he didn’t even know. again, in civil war, within the midst of fighting, rhodey’s suit gets hit and he’s falling. what does sam immediately do? go out of his way to try and rescue rhodey!!!!!! rhodey wasn’t even on his side, but he still wanted to help.

i could go on and on, but you get the point. sam wilson willingly does selfless acts, is extremely courageous, and a great friend/person. now tell me, how does anyone else even come close to EARNING steve’s shield? i’ll answer that, no one.

also, let’s not forget this iconic line from the Captain America: Sam Wilson Vol 1 #13 comic run: “When [Steve Rogers] got back to full health, he told me to hang on to [his shield]. And I trust his opinion a Hell of a lot more than [Jonathan Walker]. Or maybe even my own, for that matter. If he can share, you can, too. So you -- and all those [Keane Industries] I imagine put you up to this -- are going to have to learn to get used to it. I'm Captain America now. Deal with it.” imagine your favorite character saying something THIS powerful???? it’s absolutely badass and it’s so important to hear him owning up to the mantle and not letting anyone take that away from him. if they don’t include that line in falcon and the winter soldier, i will be heavily disappointed because it would be a perfect fit since he is transitioning from being the falcon to captain america. but that’s besides the point.

my point is, sam is a great character. he should be treated better by the fandom and doesn’t deserve anything less than that. put some respect into our new captain america the same way y’all hype every white character.

#sam wilson #marvel #marvel text #okay to reblog #please just give him some love it's what he deserves #tony-the-mage

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buckybarnabus · 3 years

Text

The Dance of These Things

Summary: Dawn and Bucky go to a gala.

Warnings: Some cursing. Moderate alcohol use. A broken wrist? Mostly fluff

Word Count: 5.4k oops

A/N: Next part of my Snapshots series involving Bucky Barnes and OFC Dawn. I can’t for the life of me write a whole multi-chaptered story, so this will be a series of one shots in no particular order that may or may not develop into something coherent over time. You can also read on AO3 if you want. Thank you!

“Tell me again why we’re here?” Bucky grumbled as they walked through the parking lot. Dawn shot him a look.

“Because Sam is our friend and he asked us to come,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“He’s your friend. Not mine,” he said, sounding much like a petulant child.

“He spent like two years of his life looking for you under every leaf and pebble he could find. ‘Not friends’ my ass. I actually think that might even qualify as bestie material,” she teased. Bucky tossed a scowl at her.

“As what material?” he asked. “You know what, no. I don’t care. He only went looking for me because Steve needed help. That doesn’t make us friends.”

“Right, because that makes sense. You’re only friends when he’s not asking you to go to a gala in commemoration of saving the universe,” Dawn drawled. Bucky huffed.

“Yeah, not exactly the place for someone like me,” he muttered. That made Dawn pause. She looked at him as they walked, and it hit her, way later than it should have. She should have known better. Bucky felt like he had no right to be there. All of the extra grumpiness made sense, suddenly, and she could see it then in the furrow of his brow, the clench of his jaw. He wasn’t mad, or pouting about having to go to some fancy party. He was nervous. Maybe a little scared.

“Hey,” she said, grabbing his wrist and planting her feet. She stumbled just a little in her heels as Bucky’s momentum kept him going for a couple steps. She felt him stiffen up at her touch, but she ignored it. He’d gotten better about contact, after that night she cut his hair, but it still wasn’t exactly easy for him. One step at a time.

He heaved a heavy sigh as she tugged him to a halt, and he looked over her head, exasperation in his face. “Look at me,” she said. He acquiesced after a stubborn moment.

“What?” he snipped. She stared at him. There were a million cliché things she wanted to wax poetic about, but she found herself at a loss. If she said any of it, she knew it would just work him up even more. Calling him a hero would probably send him into hysterics.

“I don’t know,” she said dumbly. She chewed at her lip briefly, forgetting for a moment that she was wearing lipstick. It claimed to be smudge proof. She was, apparently, going to test the claim whether she meant to or not. She sighed and fixed him with what she hoped was a meaningful look. “I get it, okay? My track record isn’t all that pretty either. It’s just one night. Just a few hours. People are here to celebrate being alive and throw obnoxious amounts of money at foundations. You know, if nothing else, we can just sit at the losers table together, and you can watch me get drunk,” she said, offering a sly little grin and a squeeze to his wrist.

Bucky looked at Dawn for a moment, didn’t say anything, his jaw still working overtime with his stress. But a certain softness worked its way into the edges of his eyes as he took her in, and it made a certain little shiver run up her spine. She felt almost exposed under his gaze. A tiny little grin made its way onto his face, and he gently slipped his wrist out of her grip to carry on walking.

“Well, don’t get too drunk. I’m not carrying you through the parking lot if you can’t walk straight,” he said over his shoulder.

He was tense as they walked up to the entrance of the building, people loitering outside, one or two of them staring from the sidelines. Dawn couldn’t be sure if Bucky noticed, but he paid it no mind regardless. She managed to weasel her way in front of him, giving the name to the bouncer at the door. They found Sam not five minutes after going in, and a wide smile spread over Sam’s face when he spotted them.

Dawn let out a low whistle as Sam flounced up to them, giving him an exaggerated once over. “Look at you, Wilson, Jesus,” she exclaimed. “You’re gonna piss a lot of married men off tonight, looking like you do.”

“Please,” he scoffed, giving her a hug and a light kiss on the cheek in greeting before holding her at arms length to get a good look at her. “Have you seen yourself? I think I just fell in love with you a little,” he said. Then, genuinely, “Dawn, you look beautiful.”

“If you two are just going to fawn over each other all night, I’m going home right now,” Bucky drawled. Sam smiled upon seeing Bucky.

“Look at you, man. A haircut, no tactical gear. If it wasn’t for the staring thing, I never would have thought it was you. Didn’t even think you owned a suit,” Sam said by way of greeting.

“I didn’t,” Bucky said flatly. Dawn tried to hide her smile. She had all but dragged Bucky, kicking and screaming, to the suit store a few days prior, when he was still adamantly refusing to to go the gala. Sam chuckled and smacked him on the shoulder.

“You look good, Buck. I’m glad to see you came,” Sam said.

“I can change your mind, real quick,” Bucky said. Despite the grouchiness, there was still a little lilt of jest in his voice, and Dawn was going to count that as a success. Not a minute later, someone else was calling for Sam’s attention, and they parted ways with promises to catch up later. Dawn spun on her heel to face Bucky.

“I think it’s time for a drink,” she chirped. Bucky gestured toward the bar.

“Agreed. Lead the way,” he said, a tight smile on his face.

To his credit, Bucky was doing just fine, making small talk with those who approached him, whether it be by Sam’s introduction, a familiar face, or the occasional stranger.

The pair had actually ended up getting separated after a little while, though Dawn made certain to keep him in her sights. A trio of old men had apparently decided to adopt Bucky while Dawn was just a little caught up letting some rich older lady talk her ear off about the donation she was making. Which was fine. The woman could flaunt her money all she wanted for all Dawn cared, so long as she was doing something useful with it.

But alas, that conversation came to an end when the woman suddenly saw someone she knew across the way and promptly forgot about Dawn, gliding across the room as she hollered and waved. Dawn blinked a few times before looking briefly over toward where Bucky sat, to find him already looking at her. She rose a brow at him in question. He gave a little grin and a nod, and she smiled brightly before wandering off back toward the bar for another drink.

She ordered one for herself, and another for Bucky with every intention of meeting back up with him and his old men soon, and leaned patiently against the bar top as she waited. There was a man standing near her- nondescript, a little sweaty- sipping on a beer. She didn’t pay him much mind as she waited, simply offering a polite grin when they briefly locked eyes.

“Hey,” the man said, giving her a weird grin as he pointed at her. “I think I know you.” Dawn immediately had a bad feeling about it.

“I think you don’t,” she responded, clipped, but trying to remain at least a little polite.

“No, I see it now. I definitely know you,” he said, scooting a tad closer. “Can you guess how?” Dawn took half a step away.

“I don’t really do guessing games,” she said, haunches quickly rising.

“You’re an assassin. You kill people,” the man said, and she caught the look in his eye. He was either very drunk, or way too excited to talk about things she didn’t want to talk about. Seemed like a little bit of both.

“That’s a bold accusation to put on someone who potentially kills people,” Dawn said, eyes flitting around for a possible escape.

“It’s true. You’re the Serval, I know it. I saw you in the S.H.I.E.L.D. files when they were leaked,” the man continued, Dawn’s attitude going right over his head. She gave him an incredulous smile.

“Oh, you’re one of those deep diving types, huh? Must’ve dug pretty far into those, the Serval wasn’t very high up in the ranks,” she said, giving the bartender a light thanks as she dropped the drinks off.

“I can prove it. The Serval’s got the brand of the Handler, right on the back of her neck,” the man said, eyes darting to the back of Dawn’s head. At the mention of the Handler, Dawn was suddenly in full fight or flight mode. She was just trying to have a nice night.

“You sound a little obsessed there, buddy,” she said, voice flat. “I wouldn’t test that theory if I were you. Excuse me,” she said, making to pick the drinks up and escape the situation. His hand was wrapped around her wrist, then, strikingly quick for a drunk man. It took every ounce of willpower Dawn had not to drop him right then and there.

“Let me go,” she said, surprising herself at how calm she sounded.

“Come on, just let me see it,” he said, other hand moving toward the back of her head. Dawn was a hairs breadth away from kicking the mans knee out when a familiar whir of metal was swiftly followed by the hand it belonged to. Bucky had the mans floating arm caught in his left fist, twisting the wrist sharply and painfully down and out of Dawn’s face. It happened so quickly, so subtly, no one around them even seemed to notice.

“This ain’t a game you want to play, man,” Bucky growled at the man who’s face was contorted in pain. “You’re gonna leave, and hope neither of us finds you later. You know, especially with her being a potential assassin and all.”

With that, Bucky released the mans arm, and the pair watched him crumple before stumbling off in a hurry, tail between his legs. Dawn didn’t bother questioning how he heard the exchange. They’d been through it before. He heard it all, so he said.

“Were you a drama major in your past life? Because that was pretty dramatic,” Dawn teased, hiding what definitely felt like a stiff smile behind her glass as she took a hefty swallow. Bucky looked her over quickly, assessing her body language for unease.

“A little theatrics can go a long way,” he said when he seemed satisfied that Dawn was mostly fine. “You think it scared him?”

“Maybe a little. That, or the broken wrist,” she shrugged, picking up the drink she’d gotten for him. “Got you a refill,” she said. He huffed a breath of laughter and took the glass.

“You went through all that trouble just for me? You’re a peach,” he teased.

“What can I say, I’m a hell of a date. I know how to treat ‘em,” she shrugged.

“I’m sure you do, Donnie,” he said. They fell into an amicable silence after that, but before either one could decide to start talking again, the crowds attention was drawn to the head of the hall, where the presenters of the gala were starting some big speech.

It really was a nice speech, all things considered. Well spoken, hopeful. Bittersweet, but overall optimistic about the world trying to get back on track. As galas went, full of rich, slightly sheltered people who didn’t really understand that things were still going to be rough for a long time, Dawn supposed it could have been a worse crowd. They had hope that things could be good, given the right resources. It made sense that Sam was so eager for them to go.

Sam had reappeared out of seemingly nowhere not long after the speech had ended, and the music had started back up.

“Dawn, you mind if I steal you from your date for a little while? I’m dying to dance with someone under sixty,” he requested, earning a giggle from Dawn.

“Is that what you’ve been doing this whole time? Wooing all the old ladies?” she asked.

“I’ve been drowning in Chanel Number Five for like an hour. Please, I need a break,” he whined, coaxing a proper laugh out of her. She turned to Bucky, then, the silent question on her face.

“Go ahead. I’ve got a conversation to get back to,” Bucky said, gesturing toward the table of old men he’d been talking to previously.

So Sam offered Dawn his arm and led her out onto the dance floor. They fell into form easily, and began moving with the music.

“So Bucky made some friends, huh?” Sam asked, raising a brow in amusement. Dawn smiled.

“Yeah. A bunch of old men, naturally. They’re probably just swapping war stories or something, I don’t know. Whatever old men talk about,” she said.

“Of course he’d fall in with them, cranky old bastard,” Sam said, rolling his eyes. “At least nobody’s giving him any trouble.” Dawn shrugged a shoulder.

“He’s already broken a wrist tonight, I think he’s filled his quota for the time being,” she said.

“He what?” Sam baulked. Dawn laughed lightly.

“Don’t worry, it was very subtle. We’re staying out of trouble, I swear.”

“No, no. You aren’t getting out of this so easily. Why the hell is Bucky stealth breaking people’s wrists?” Sam prodded.

“The guy had it coming, honestly. He grabbed me. Trust me, I would’ve made a bigger scene if Bucky hadn’t stepped in,” she said.

“You two are going to be the death of me, I swear to God. Can’t stay out of trouble for one damn night, can you?” he said, giving her a little spin.

“Gala’s can’t stop a couple of wild animals, Wilson,” Dawn winked.

“And yet here you are, schmoozing with the best of ‘em,” he said, shaking his head fondly.

“I mean, I look sort of nice tonight. Might as well play the part, you know?” she said, earning a chuckle. They bantered easily for a bit before falling into quiet and letting the music guide them.

“You know,” Sam started after a few stanzas. “I don’t think Bucky’s danced since the forties. Steve said he used to go dancing all the time,” he said, pointed. Dawn snorted.

“What, you think he’d go for that now? No way. It was enough work just to get him to come here,” she retorted.

“You should ask him to dance. Since, apparently, he can deny you nothing,” Sam said, still with the stupid pointed look. Dawn was willfully ignoring it.

“I think he’d sooner rip his other arm off. You know how he is about touching,” she said.

“I don’t know about that. I don’t think you’re seeing what I’m seeing, Donnie,” Sam said.

“Oh? And what’s that?” she prodded.

“Right now, I see Sir Grumpalot sitting over there looking like a kicked puppy because someone else is dancing with his girl. Seriously, the dude is straight up pouting.” Dawn shot him a glare.

“I’m not his- he always looks like a kicked puppy, that’s just his face.” Sam smiled at her, a soft, warm thing. She felt small under it.

“To you, maybe. That man is an immovable object when he wants to be. Unless it comes to you. Then, sad little puppy, always ready to please.” She huffed at him as the song ended, and reached up to pat his cheek.

“Alright, Samwise, keep telling yourself that. I’m not nearly drunk enough for this conversation. Thanks for the dance. Back to the cougars with you,” she said, removing herself from his grip.

“Dawn, baby, don’t do this to me!” he crowed. She shot him a wide smile as she backed away.

“Sorry, sweetheart. You know my heart burns for you. But I think I’ve got a puppy I need to get back to,” she called.

Bucky was scowling at her once she arrived back at the table he sat at with his three old men. “Was Sam calling me a puppy?” he asked, throwing a glare in Sam’s direction.

“You heard that?” she asked, taking a seat next to him. He slid a glass across the table toward her, a refill of her drink. She smiled in thanks.

“I heard you say it. Which means he said it,” Bucky said, clearly grumpy.

“Don’t worry, Buck, you’re not a puppy,” she said, poking her foot into his shin under the table. “You’re a big, bad wolf, huffing and puffing as much as you do,” she said.

“I hope you don’t ever get into comedy. It’s really not your calling,” Bucky grumbled, and Dawn let out a bright peal of laughter.

And then, apparently, Dawn was dancing with one of Bucky’s three old men, because her feet weren’t killing her enough already. She could run around all day and night on missions, but on those, she typically had boots. A few hours gallivanting around in high heels, though? That was definitely another story.

By the time Dawn had managed to slip away from the dance floor, Bucky was looking spacey, tired, and ready to leave. He’d been a good sport over the course of the evening, and broke a drunk guys wrist for her. He’d earned the relief of leaving the gala.

They slipped out into the refreshing night air, after Dawn’s insistence that they at least say goodbye to Sam, and Dawn felt the relief instantly. She’d been riled up all evening, trying to be social and gracious. It was nice to breathe and let the tension go. But with her relief, the pain in her feet and ankles became her main focus. Heels were a curse to womankind, she decided. And Bucky was already a good few yards away.

“You always walk that fast, or are you just that sick of me?” she called out, irrationally grumpy at the pain in her feet. Bucky stopped and turned, looking just a little surprised that she was so far behind. He watched her for a moment as she tried to pick up the pace, and she scowled when she saw the amusement written all over his face.

“You look like a baby deer,” he teased.

“Oh, I’m sorry. You try wearing heels for hours at a time, see how you do,” she said, embarrassed as she hobbled up to him.

“Hey, you’re the one who wanted to wear them,” he said, raising his hands in defense.

“I’ve got a knife under this dress, somewhere. Don’t make me use it,” she grumbled.

“You brought a knife?” he asked, surprised. She scoffed.

“Oh, like you don’t have at least ten stuffed in your slacks,” she retorted.

“That’s fair,” he said, then looked back down at her in consideration. “Alright. Come on,” he said, stepping into her space.

“What-“ Dawn was cut off by a yelp as she was suddenly airborne, and she found herself scrambling for a good grip around his neck. Bucky hiked her up higher and started walking, carrying her bridal style through the lot like it was nothing. Dawn took a moment to gather herself again before speaking.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to carry me through the parking lot,” she said quietly, amused. She was also trying not to think about how warm he was, and if she was talking, that helped to distract her.

“That was if you were drunk. Which I’m pretty sure you’re not,” he said, giving her a suspicious glance. She smiled.

“Nah. I can hold my liquor. Maybe even drink you under the table,” she said.

“Right. We are never testing that theory.”

“Don’t underestimate me.”

“I’m not. You’d die.”

She let Bucky drive her car, not trusting her feet to cooperate with the pedals. It was a long, quiet drive back to Bucky’s apartment. They’d spent the drive sort of winding down from the evening, and Dawn was about to bid him goodnight upon parking, but Bucky beat her to it.

“You’ve been drinking. I can’t, in good conscience, let you drive home,” he said flatly. She rose a brow at him, unable to help the grin.

“I thought you said I wasn’t drunk,” she said. He didn’t look at her as he pocketed her keys and started walking.

“Three drinks? Maybe four? Yeah, you’re not driving,” he tossed over his shoulder. “Don’t know where your keys went, anyway.” Dawn smiled softly at his back and followed. She liked when fragments of his boyish nature of years past shone through all the grey he surrounded himself with. It was nice.

He let her borrow some clothes, let her use his shower, and she eventually emerged, clean and warm and comfy. She dropped herself onto the couch and let out a relieved sigh, leaning her head back and shutting her eyes with a grin.

“Feel better?” Bucky asked from the kitchen around a mouthful of food. His stomach had growled angrily the entire drive home. Dawn had tried to get him to eat at the gala, but he just wouldn’t. He moved back into the front room and placed a plated sandwich in Dawn’s lap. She was, admittedly, also very hungry.

“You have no idea,” she said, tucking into the offered sandwich. She watched TV while Bucky took his own shower. It was a familiar routine after sharing many a hotel room. They existed pretty easily around each other, for the most part. It was comfortable. Something safe, easy.

“Did you have to use all the hot water?” he griped without venom upon exiting the bathroom and flopping onto the couch.

“You should have thought of that before you met me. Long, hot showers are kind of my favorite thing,” she said, shoving at his shoulder.

“Right, because I definitely could have predicted some ex assassin, hot water leech was going to prance her way into my apartment one day just for the amenities,” he shot back. She could practically hear him rolling his eyes at her.

“Constant vigilance, Sarge. You can never be too ready,” she said, curling into her corner of the couch as Bucky started flipping through the channels. Dawn’s mind wandered as she stared at the television. The air between them was easy, comfortable. Quiet and content. She found herself continuously looping back to Sam’s words at the gala, couldn’t quite seem to get them out of her head. Bucky liked to dance, once upon a time. She could imagine it, the bright smile on his face as he twirled a pretty girl around the room, the innocence of it all.

“Sam said you haven’t danced since the forties,” she blurted before she could stop herself. She could see him turn his head toward her in her peripheral vision, but he said nothing. “Well. I guess Steve said it, really. Steve told Sam, Sam told me,” she rambled, picking at the borrowed sweatpants.

“Well. It’s a little hard to get some dancing in between brainwashing, bouncing from fight to fight. Turning to dust,” Bucky said, slowly, clearly trying to figure out her reasoning.

“You could’ve tonight. At the gala,” she said, chancing a quick glance at him. He was giving her a look, something carefully neutral and just a little suspicious.

“Don’t be so sure about that,” he said.

“You could’ve,” she repeated. “I’m sure anyone would’ve danced with you.”

“Not really my scene these days, Donnie,” he said. She chewed on her lip, ignoring the feeling of her heart hammering in her chest.

“What about here?” she asked.

“What about it?”

Dawn gestured around them. “Is this more your scene?” He furrowed his brows at her. Her stomach dropped into her feet.

“This is my living room?” he said, clearly confused. She was going to fucking throw up.

“Dance with me, Bucky,” she said. Maybe she would just die, dissolve into the couch and cease to be.

“What?” he asked, almost a whisper. She squared her shoulders and turned to him.

“Dance with me,” she said. He just kind of sat there for a moment, looking bewildered and caught off guard. It took him a minute to find his words again.

“I haven’t danced since ‘43,” he said, sounding a little breathless. She nodded slowly.

“Yes. We’ve been over this. It’ll be fine,” she said, standing up and crossing the room toward his stereo.

“I’m not any good,“ he argued weakly.

“Who cares? No one’s watching and I won’t know any better,” she said, hooking up her phone and pulling up a proper playlist. She pressed the play button and put the phone down before drifting back to Bucky as the grainy, old music started playing. She quickly muted the television and outstretched her hands expectantly. She made a grabby motion when he still just stared up at her.

“Come on. Just a few songs. It’ll be fun,” she said. He pressed his lips together and sighed heavily, not being overly helpful as he took her hands and let her pull him up. She pulled him away from the couch and they stared at each other for a moment. Bucky’s brows were furrowed, but she couldn’t tell what he was feeling. She could barely hear the music over the blood rushing in her ears.

He still didn’t say anything. Just hesitantly tapped her arm up, looking resigned, a silent order to place her hand on his shoulder. His left hand fell lightly onto her waist, and his right gently scooped up her other hand to hold up in the air. She gave him an encouraging smile, and then they we’re moving.

She let him lead, and it was a shy thing at first, stiff. “See? It’s not so bad,” she said. He huffed a tense breath of laughter.

“This is stupid,” he said. She clicked her tongue.

“No, this is nice,” she argued, giving his shoulder a gentle pinch. She moved with him as easily as he would let her, but he was still uncertain, almost awkward. She found it endearing. It took some time for Bucky to warm up to the idea.

Dawn could almost pinpoint the moment he got comfortable. He tugged her hand, twisted her out for a little spin, and pulled her back into him. She giggled as he spun her, almost losing her footing on the return. His left hand landed on the small of her back when she bumped back into him, and they were suddenly much closer. She could feel the heat radiating off of him, the coolness of his metal hand against her spine. She looked back up at him, and she caught a glimpse of that boyish charm he once probably wore so easily.

“I guess it’s not so bad,” he muttered as they continued swaying to the music.

“And you think you’re not any good,” she tutted. They moved around in a little circle for a while. Then, Bucky got brave and started putting some foot work into it. Dawn’s heart was absolutely soaring, and she could tell Bucky was legitimately having a good time, if the softness in his features was anything to go by.

“You looked beautiful, tonight,” Bucky said out of the blue, quiet, like he didn’t want to break the little bubble they found themselves in. “I should have said it before.” Dawn bit her lip against the shy smile threatening to rise. She could only manage a whispered thanks as she felt her cheeks heat up.

“You know. Baby deer ankles and all,” he teased, earning a scandalized gasp out of Dawn. She went to smack him in the arm, but instead, he stopped the motion by gripping her hand tighter and pulling her even closer, flush against his body. Any and all fight Dawn had in her left in a rush. “I’m kidding, Doll,” he said, the words rumbling against her chest. Dawn couldn’t find any words to say, so she rested her head against his chest instead, opting to feel his warmth and let the music guide them.

They danced around the apartment for more than the promised few songs, swaying and spinning and stepping. Dawn only stepped on his toes a few times. And Bucky seemed happy. The tension he usually held in his shoulders was nonexistent, and everything about him just seemed soft and sweet, and Dawn was almost jealous of all the girls he must have taken dancing back in his day, jealous that they got to see that side of him so freely. And she was sad for Bucky, that he’d been through so much, had no choice but to shut himself down. But at that moment in time, the pair of them floating around his apartment, things were good. Everything was okay. There was no mission. No nightmare. No Handler. No greater goal. Just Dawn and Bucky. Just music. Just a little bit of peace.

The song was nearing its end. The crescendo came, the last big chorus, and Bucky spun Dawn around once more before catching her against his chest. He smoothly transferred his weight, held her snug as he got a steady hold of her and dipped her with all the grace in the world. She found herself giggling at the feeling, and then he pulled her back up. He pulled her back up, and she was proud of not messing it up for all of a second before her mind blanked entirely.

They were close. Very close. Both of his hands were pressed into her spine, one warm, one cold, steadying her frame. Her hands landed on either side of his neck. Their noses brushed. They were so close. Dawn felt his breath against her lips, a quick, surprised little puff, and she almost could have sworn her heart stopped beating, that she would die right then and there. Hair had landed in her face with the momentum, and she couldn’t see much of anything, but she felt it all.

Her breath hitched and she froze as Bucky’s nose just brushed her cheek, an almost mindless nuzzle against her skin. She could feel the heat of his lips so, so close to hers. She would barely have to move an inch to meet them. She was pretty sure she was dead.

But, almost as soon as it had happened, it was over. Bucky took a step back, releasing Dawn completely.

“It’s, um,” he cleared his throat, looked somewhere over her shoulder. “It’s late. I’m sure you’re tired. You should get some sleep,” he said. It took Dawn an embarrassingly long moment to collect herself.

“Oh. Right, um. Yeah. It was a long day, wasn’t it,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound as spaced out as she felt. She moved on stiff legs to grab her phone and shut the music off. Bucky was standing awkwardly off to the side, arms crossed tight over his chest.

“You can take the bed,” he said with a stiff gesture, voice rough. She nodded dumbly and pulled her lips between her teeth before shuffling down the short hallway. She was about to shut the door behind her, hand on the doorknob for a moment. She swung it back open a little.

“Bucky?” she called out hesitantly.

“Yeah?” his voice echoed, quick and a little shrill. Her words got stuck. She cleared her throat.

“Thank you. For coming. I had a nice night. I hope you did, too,” she called out, awkward, unable to keep the uncertainty out of her voice. She didn’t get a response for a minute, and she was about to shut the door.

“Yeah. I did. Goodnight, Donnie.”

Neither one of them knew it, but they both spent a long time staring at the ceiling that night, too wired, too deep in thoughts of What the hell is going on to fall asleep. And when they did, their sleep was as turbulent as whatever it was that they were trying not to feel.

#bucky barnes fic #buckybarnabus writes #bucky barnes #tfatws #avengers #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x ofc #james barnes #marvel #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #the winter soldier #ca:cw #catws #captain america #mcu #bucky barnes x original female character

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missorgana · 3 years

Text

hate me (but don’t)

pairing: bucky barnes/sam wilson, background pairings

fandom: marvel cinematic universe

rating: teen and up

word count: 4521

warning: swearing, smoking, alcohol

summary: Steve's planned a game of secret santa for the team, but Bucky's got other things on his mind. Like his crush on perfect, ridiculously hot Sam. And how he hates his guts. (university au, secret santa)

(my second 12 days of fanfiction fic!! which is totally not two days late... really hope this isn’t too messy. thank you @brandtwilliam for the prompt, i really hope you enjoy this ❤️ and don’t forget, you can still send me prompts if you haven’t already!)

read on ao3

Bucky is going to die.

Is that too dramatic? Maybe so.

But if your stupid secret santa turns out to be your stupid, ridiculously hot, too kind for this cruel world crush, Sam Wilson, who’s given you every perfect gift you could ask for, you’d feel like that too.

The only detail missing? He hates your guts, most likely.

…

Of course, the brilliant idea of a game of secret santa belonged to his best friend.

Steve’s always been social like that, which he guesses can be seen as a good thing, if Bucky was the same kind of extrovert and wasn’t dragged to everything by his friend.

Well, that he was being dragged to events might be a little harsh. Steve didn’t mean to force him, really. If the blonde just didn’t look so disappointed when he said no, Bucky might not give in every time.

And now, as the football team captain, Steve’s suggested a game for the holidays. It gets mixed reviews.

Generally positive, at least Thor and Scott’s in on it, Nat laughs sarcastically but doesn’t intervene, and Clint simply nods.

Rhodey shakes his head, and Bucky feels the same, but why not, he finally says.

T’Challa’s just as tired as he is of Steve’s games, surely. Alas, despite not everyone cheering, it’s settled. Hell, even Carol’s in on it, and she hates Christmas as a known fact.

And then there’s Sam.

Beautiful Sam, who transferred to Steve and his dorm, who his best friend met at a history nerd convention, of all things.

It’s not surprising that he got in on the team this semester. Because holy fucking shit.

Bucky likes to think he’s pretty fit, he can keep up with Steve, at least. Sam, however, just feels like he’s mocking him.

Because he’s too damn attractive for his own good, that is.

And seriously, he’s tried not to stare, still tries, during practice, but does he have to make it so difficult?

His arms, hands, calves, everything.

Like even just his jawline is perfect, come on!

And it’s been long since Bucky’s last relationship, he’d gotten over her, and a ridiculously hot friend of his best friend might be good for him.

Only problem, said hot friend hates him, first thing when they meet. No, he’s not exaggerating.

It was even before he got on the team, when he moved in the dorm, and Steve suggested the three of them have a game night. Bucky still has no idea what he did to Sam, but that evening, let’s say he got the cold shoulder.

And this guy only talks to him when he has to. Seriously.

“Hey, I, uh, I’m Bucky.”

“I know. And I’m Sam, by the way.”

Shit. All that’s spoken between them the first day, and this guy who may or may not look like a Greek god avoids him at every game.

Steve’s certain he’s imagining things, but it’s obvious, really.

Way to go, Bucky, crushing on the one person you’ll never have a shot with. But he’s learned to live with that loss.

It’s not like he got a realistic chance with him, anyway.

…

First week of December, and Steve seems to think ice skating is a good idea.

It’s supposed to be a whole team friendship thing once again, but a slight malfunction in the planning of it all, ends up having only Nat and Sam along with them.

Nat’s surprisingly sociable once you become friends with her. Believe it or not, Bucky thought she hated him too, in the beginning, but that’s the vibe she puts up around everyone.

Sam, on the other hand, seems like he’s pointed Bucky out as his mortal enemy.

When he’s watching this boy, which is probably distracting him too much during games, and class, and everything else, he’s never seen someone smile as much as Sam.

It gives Bucky this funny feeling in his stomach.

He sort of wishes he could make him smile like that. Or at all, really.

Sam’s always helped out Steve extensively with the last few parties he set up, because he might be an angel. He’s pointed this out to the blonde, who insists Bucky’s helped a lot too. Which, lie, but his friend won’t admit that.

And yes, he has confided this crush to his very friend. Bucky knows Steve wouldn’t tell a soul, he trusts him with his life, but the blonde’s also getting pretty impatient with him.

“If you’d get over yourself and ask him out.” is something his best friend’s told him too many times, believe it or not, Bucky has a hard time keeping quiet about just how ridiculously beautiful Sam is.

“Yeah, like that’s ever gonna happen.”

“Why not?”

“He literally avoids me, I told you this!”

“No, he doesn’t!”

“Have you ever even seen him look at me?!”

Nat’s always there when he zones out, too many people and Bucky needs some peace of mind. He appreciates that more than she knows. Like he’s ever gonna tell her that.

This constellation they’ve made on the rink makes sense.

Steve and Sam’s testing their abilities on the skates, cus they’re annoying like that, and the redhead’s joined him by the sidelines.

The boys’ begged her to join them, because it’s somehow destiny that Sam should like everyone but him, and maybe, Bucky felt a little smug when she favored him and declined the offer. He’s not gonna tell that, either.

Twenty minutes pass by before she elbows him, “If I ask you why you own a handbook about butterflies, will I get a sensible answer?” Okay, that does sound weird. He’s allowed to have interests though, right?

Like Steve’s obsession with the British royal family is any better.

And this is a fairly new interest, to be fair, despite that he’s always had a liking for biology. But honestly, bugs are fucking badass. Steve didn’t judge him, at least.

“Well…” he starts, just pausing long enough to witness his best friend nearly falling on his ass, glorious, “It’s from my secret santa.”

She laughs.

“One of those dummies gave you a book about bugs?”

“I like bugs.”

“Fair enough, still funny.”

He even tries to give her a mean eye, but she pats his head like a child. Bucky supposes that honesty’s part of her charm, at least he’s always felt that way.

Steve pretends to be offended, despite being used to it, and Clint just snarks right back at her. He’s never met two best friends so similar, to be honest.

“Tell me,” Nat speaks up again, even though she’s definitely going to ask Steve when they’re done here so they can eat, which Bucky will wholeheartedly tag along with, “What’s up with you and Wilson?”

If Bucky was drinking something, he’d choke. Maybe he chokes on oxygen for a second.

“I don’t know you’re talking about.” is the answer, he even tries a laugh but it comes out anything but casual.

Damn her, she can always look through him so easily.

She lifts a sharp brow, “For how much you both hang around each other, you spend an awful lot of time avoiding him.”

Oh, if only she knew.

…

The second week of December, the Christmas cheer just increases. In the dormitory, anyway, since Steve and Thor’s in charge of decorating.

Makes sense, given his friend’s eagerness in social gatherings, and Thor being the tallest university student ever, probably.

And in extension, the dorm’s having a Christmas dinner. Once again, Steve’s idea.

This is nice though, Bucky has to admit, when everyone’s bringing food and there’s not the pressure of a dance floor or ice breaker games.

And since Steve’s idea of Christmas cheer is “the more, the merrier”, plus ones are more than welcome.

Rhodey’s brought Tony, who’s a bit of an asshole, but his girlfriend Pepper’s nice, and he’d probably say Bucky can be an asshole too, so it’s whatever.

Carol would probably be alone with her girlfriend Val (who’s also a bit of an asshole, but like, less than Tony) than be here, but seems like she’s taking a liking to Thor’s new boyfriend.

Bruce, he’s from the science department. Doesn’t seem like the party type, and Bucky for once doesn’t feel totally alone.

But all his pessimism aside, this is not totally awful. Might even call it enjoyable.

He doesn’t feel pressured to make conversation, which is nice, and one Christmas beer doesn’t hurt.

Except he may or not become sulky, when, surprise, he spends his night trying not to stare at Sam, collect the courage to talk to him and then fail to do so.

The boy actually catches Bucky looking at him. Midst eating. He just might have hid under the table.

It’s not like anything dramatic happened, really, but he probably looked creepy. He just can’t help staring when he’s so pretty, can he?

And, weirdly enough, Sam raises a brow at him questioningly. The most interaction they’ve ever done, probably.

Well done, Bucky, as if he didn’t dislike you enough.

What boggles his mind is when he, after the dinner, finds a bag placed neatly on his desk. Secret santa, he almost forgot, it’s the end of the week.

Inside said brown paper bag is a bracelet.

Awfully similar to the one he broke last week, he thinks, and the obvious suspicion falls on Steve. He hasn’t told anyone about that besides his best friend, so who else could it be?

It’s sweet of him. And a bit stupid, given that these things have to remain a secret.

But Bucky will play along. Besides, this wasn’t exactly cheap, isn’t this breaking the rules? Maybe the blonde just used this opportunity for an actual Christmas present, all games aside.

He shakes his head with a smile.

Steve’s an idiot, but he means well. And Bucky makes sure to hide the wrapping just before someone, who he assumes to be his friend, walks in.

Only it’s a different blonde.

“Bucky! I was wondering-” Thor sounds excited, however, he stops in his tracks and stares. Right where the evidence of the gift is hidden. Not so hidden.

“Oh, your secret santa!” the giant exclaims, twice as excited, and Bucky nods. “What’d they get you?”

He fumbles with the bracelet, now around his wrist, “Uh, this.”

Thor squints, like this task takes all his concentration, and giggles. Bucky doesn’t really understand that, but the blonde boy takes a seat beside him on the bed before he can question it.

“Seems like someone on the team’s trying to impress you. Anyway, look what I got Bruce!”

…

It’s the third week of December, and because Steve is just the right amount of stupid, he’s broken his ankle. Ice skating, of course.

So, today’s going to be a weird day.

It was already weird from the get go, because Bucky was still thinking about last week’s secret santa gift, but after lunch, the signal for his best friend goes over his phone.

Immediately he’s greeted with, “Bucky?”

The voice is just an octave deeper than Steve’s, and he doesn’t fully register the situation before his “Steve?” is answered with, “No, man, he’s in the hospital.”

Long story short, Sam called him.

It makes sense, because the blonde’s got Bucky listed in his emergency contacts, parents being out of the country and everything, and he’s got Steve in his, but something about actually talking to a certain, ridiculously hot friend makes his brain malfunction.

And it’s not like he has much time to respond before the boy in the other end hangs up, opting to text him the hospital room number.

And now here he is.

He made sure to leave a chair between the two when he sat down, because Sam finding another reason to hate him would only add to the anxiety he’s already feeling.

Steve’s fine, he assures himself, but Bucky has a hard time looking away from the boy beside him. Well, more than usual.

“People ever tell you that you stare a lot?” Sam’s voice pipes up, and he jumps just a bit in his seat.

God, he’s really not subtle at all, huh. Not surprising, given how many times Steve’s told him.

“I, uh- no.”

That’s all you have to say? Come on, Bucky, you absolute idiot.

“Sorry, I’m just worried.” he shakes his head at himself. And somehow, because the world is being weird in general lately, the other boy looks back at him.

Okay, it wouldn’t be that weird, if he didn’t sigh, “You’re fine. He’s fine. I promise.”

Holy shit. Shit, shit, shit.

Bucky can’t let himself get too excited, most of all due to them currently being in a hospital, but the fact that he couldn’t find a hint of malice in Sam’s voice feels like a surreal dream. Not to mention this is by far the longest conversation they’ve had, ever.

Maybe this is one of those things his stupid best friend would consider a Christmas miracle. Your crush maybe doesn’t absolutely despise you, that’s something, right?

Less than ideal, but oh well. Bucky’s allowed to dream.

This makes it considerably harder not to stare at the boy, with the added bonus of Sam now being aware of it. Just his luck.

But noticing the other boy’s hands tightly clasped in his lap, this odd blinking that’s a little more rapid than usual, suggests that Sam’s just as nervous.

Strangely, that gives Bucky some peace of mind. Usually, this ridiculously hot guy is a picture perfect example of being calm, collected and patient. Except with himself, of course.

Steve told him they do yoga together, so it makes sense, but it’s like he’s got everything under control, you know?

Bucky wishes he had that sense sometimes, God knows how behind he is on studying, and maybe he’d actually have the courage to flirt with anyone (sitting next to him, preferably) if his nerves weren't such a mess.

He wants to reach out and touch the other boy’s arm.

Maybe that would ruin the moment, though. Definitely will ruin the moment. Who said they were having a moment, anyway?

“Thanks.” Bucky finds himself saying.

And now, Sam looks surprised.

“What for?”

“You know, uh… for calling.”

Sam is officially a ridiculously hot pain in the ass.

Because they’re having eye contact. For several minutes. Like humans do, you idiot, is what he thinks to himself, maybe he should really just get laid already like Tony told him once.

The other boy looks at him like he’s got something on his mind, mouth slightly open, but looks away before Bucky can think too much about his lips and how soft they may be.

He bites his cheek.

And it’s like the world started spinning around them again when the doctor lets them in Steve’s room, but not before Sam hands him a bag.

“Steve was gonna give you this after skating, man. Your secret santa- it’s so stupid, but they told us to get it. Don’t look at me like that.”

It takes Bucky a minute. Staring at the bag of plums handed to him. Watching the back of the other boy’s head as he leaves.

Too goddamn weird.

…

The fourth week of December comes too fast for Bucky’s liking.

In fact, it’s Thursday night, and Steve’s rambling from the other side of the room, convinced Natasha is his secret santa, when Bucky just wants to fucking sleep .

He loves the guy, but seriously.

Of course, he hasn’t told his best friend his suspicion that he’s his secret santa, because duh, but also, he’s not all that sure since last week.

Sam told him whoever it is gave it to them. And it kind of makes Bucky feel insane.

Of course, Sam could’ve lied to cover up for his friend, because he knows he’d do that. Damnit, his crush is possibly the sweetest, truest person he’s met in his relatively short life, and he just so happens to hate his guts?

Typical. But Bucky also feels like something’s changed in their dynamic.

He hopes he’s not imagining things. At least, Sam’s started greeting him at practice, and that alone is a major change, believe it or not.

They don’t even uncomfortably look away from each other while playing games with Steve, and God knows they’re doing a lot more now that the blonde needs to rest.

Last night, he had another genuine conversation, and their friend has never looked more confused in his life. He did also tease Bucky for a solid hour about it after Sam left, so there’s that.

Ultimately, near 2am, he gets out of bed and tells Steve he’s going for a walk.

Bucky hates the fact that this secret santa thing’s getting on his nerves, which isn’t his friend’s fault at all, he just needs a break.

Going for a walk usually means going to the roof for a smoke. Yeah, Bucky’s not proud of it, but it is what it is.

It’s helped him de-stress during exams, mostly, and it’s been two months since his last, but he knows Steve’s right when telling him to quit for good.

Sometimes Nat and Clint join him, which is nice, cause they’re not that big on late night conversations, either. He’s mostly looking to be alone right now, though.

Bucky’s putting the cigarette to his lips when he hears the door opening behind him, and who he’s expecting to be Nat and Clint or a shocked Steve turns out to be the very guy that’s been on his mind for too damn long.

He might know his voice immediately. Shut up.

Sam gives him a nod as a silent greeting, which he replies to of course, and standing next to him, with considerable distance, of course, asks him for a lighter.

Seriously, his crush lighting a smoke shouldn’t be so fucking hot.

Bucky feels kind of pathetic, but oh well. This is nice. It makes him nervous as fuck, but after ten minutes, it’s like the knot in his chest unwinds and nothing can be heard in the silence apart from the night traffic.

Until, suddenly, “You and Steve dated, right?”

He might have a small coughing fit after that comment. “I-I, well, uhm, yeah, but like, when we were fifteen!”

It comes out more defensive than he wanted, and Bucky might’ve just gone to the nearest wall and banged his head.

Sam chuckles, but he’s got this sincere look in his eyes.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, man. Sorry.”

And because Bucky’s too tired to think rationally, he lets his guard down and smiles. He’s learnt to control his love struck smiles, as Nat once called them, very, very well around Sam, but fuck it.

It’s dark anyway, let’s just pretend they won’t remember this in the morning.

“No, it’s fine, really.” he scratches his neck, “I love him, really do, but he’s my best friend. Now I can’t imagine thinking of him like that.”

The shorter guy nods.

“Y’know, my ex, Riley,” Sam starts, because, suddenly, the air between them is changing, and it’s becoming a little more personal, “Think that’s same as you two. He’s like my brother now, honestly.”

They share a laugh on that, and Bucky tries to stop the butterflies forming in his stomach, he really does.

It’s on that the silence settles again, until Sam’s finished his smoke, too fast for Bucky’s liking and squashes it with his boot.

He did want to be alone, of course, so it’s whatever.

Just felt nice connecting, or something. He’s not sure that is what this is. December’s really changed his relationship with his crush, and albeit Sam doesn’t seem to hate him anymore, he’s a bit disappointed in this Christmas miracle.

The shorter boy turns before he leaves, however, “I mean, I’m more into long hair on guys, anyway.”

Well, he can’t just say that and not expect Bucky to look like one big question mark. What the fuck?

And as he makes his way back to this room, shaking his head, surely Sam didn’t mean anything by that off-hand comment, he finds not only his best friend soundly sleeping, but also a box of peppermint candies, his favorite, on the dresser.

…

And as by a whirlwind, here Bucky is, the last week of December, and Steve decided on an extravagant finale party, where the team would reveal their secret santa identities.

He hasn’t talked to Sam since that night on the roof.

Unwillingly, because the shorter boy’s started avoiding him again. Seriously, Bucky’s desperate.

His own foolery, thinking things had changed and they maybe could be friends, only his crush seems destined to hate him for eternity.

Bucky doesn’t even complain to Steve, he just accepts the fact.

In fact, he’s been nursing the same beer for the last two hours, still not being able to take his eyes from the ridiculously hot, and annoying, guy on the other side of the common room.

He doesn’t even care about the thought of getting laid with anyone.

Bucky’s too lost in this to think about getting over Sam, god forbid.

Besides that fact, he guesses the evening’s going alright. Natasha reveals herself as Steve’s gift giver, as suspected, his friend exclaimed in glee, Carol had Sam, Rhodey to Carol, Scott to Thor, T’Challa to Scott, Thor to Clint, Steve to T’Challa and Clint to Rhodey.

And see, that’s what ultimately leaves Bucky in the weirdest, stupidest, most ridiculous situation. He was, still, fully convinced Steve was his own secret santa.

At least he’d never figured Sam to reveal himself as the one.

Bucky wants to die.

How does the stupid hot, real life angel even expect him to react? He must know Bucky’s crushing on him. That’s probably what made him hate him again.

Fuck, this guy volunteers at homeless shelters, helps out every single one of his friends, he’s perfect , of course he’d give Bucky perfect gifts.

Well done, honestly, despite the apparent dislike.

They gloss over the revelation, anyway, Bucky himself too anxious to react besides the thank you’s, of course, and Sam looks at him the same way he did in the hospital that night. He’s officially going crazy.

That relation’s in the grave, more or less, given how quiet the other boy is. When he realises this, finally grabbing a second beer, Bucky just feels like crying a little bit.

Until the party’s well over, Steve’s puking his guts out in the bathroom, and he’s just tired.

Of course, that’s when his crush decided to find him.

He’s surprised, of course, but tries to fix his clothes and hair regardless. Who’s he kidding, he looks like shit right now.

“Hey, man-”

“Sam!”

Stupid interruption, goddammit. Bucky has the mind to apologize before rambling on, “Thank you. For all the presents, that is. You didn’t have to.”

Sam’s laughing. Not out loud, like, almost shy. In a Sam way. Fuck, he can’t explain it any other way.

His smile is almost smug when he answers, “Well, I kinda did in that game.”

First time his crush ever told him a joke. Cool, cool, cool.

Seriously, Bucky needs to calm down. He’s been here before, and after the night on the rooftop, he clearly did something wrong.

Must have, to make the angel hate him. There he goes, referring to him like a celestial being in his head. Anyway.

“I know, man. I just,” he’s almost interrupted by another groan from the bathroom, nevertheless, “I’m just Steve’s annoying friend. I mean, I assume you got help on that bracelet-”

“You’re what now?”

Update, said ridiculously hot friend of Steve’s now frowning at him. Probably the first time Bucky’s seen him confused, too, lots of new things happening. He can’t do anything other than shrug.

“Yeah. Man, it’s pretty obvious you don’t like me. Which is fine! Or it’s not, cause I've been... crushing on you ever since we met, but listen-”

Really, he could’ve continued for eternity, if his crush hadn’t walked right up close and grabbed both his shoulders.

Holy shit. Perfect Sam is so fucking close to him right now, Bucky looking right into his deep brown eyes. He never wants to look away. This is real life, somehow.

Even Sam doesn’t seem to know what to say, shaking his head, and Jesus, he’s pretty up close-

“Bucky,” he then says, “What did you think… was going on?”

That’s a weird question, so he furrows his brow. Steve’s probably still hurling, but he’s kinda zoned out all sound apart from their breathing.

Too dramatic. Like a sappy romantic drama. Shut up, brain.

“Like, with us.”

Okay, this is just ridiculous. Not as ridiculous as how hot Sam is, but it’s close. Must be a damn joke.

“Us? Sam, I’m not an idiot, you’ve been avoiding me ever since we met, and-”

“I’ve literally been flirting with you.”

What?

Now Bucky knows it’s a joke. Or maybe he’ll pinch him and he’ll wake up from this hangover dream.

Whatever it is, he sure knows what flirting looks like. Can’t do it himself very well, but not the point!

“Flirting?”

“Yeah!” he exclaims, suddenly seeming unsure of himself, which isn’t something Bucky wants to see ever again, making his stomach hurt, “Well, I thought so. That I was being cool, you know? But Steve suggested these gifts, and I admit, it’s better.”

All he has left to do is nod.

“Ugh, sorry.” Sam’s hands tragically leave his shoulder, scratching his forehead, and it’s official, confused Sam is adorable, “I see the misunderstanding. But also, I never got you alone, so.”

“Yeah, cause I thought you hated me!”

Well, this December’s much more interesting than Bucky would’ve bargained for. Ever.

Least of all that his stupid, ridiculously hot crush somehow liked him back. Damn, all this time he thought he had a nemesis, too?

“To be honest, thinking I had an enemy was kinda cool.” he tells the shorter boy with a laugh, because fuck it, this has turned into the messiest love confession ever, and it’s too late for Sam to take it back now.

Might as well ride with it. And of course, his angel of a crush rolls his eyes. But he’s smiling, just like on the rooftop.

He does also return his hand to the back of Bucky’s neck instead. Okay, cool. He can definitely keep going. Please keep going.

“You want me to take it back, or?”

“Oh my God, no.”

“Good.”

They’re so fucking close. Bucky’s head screaming at him. Those butterflies are probably fainting from exhaustion, at this point.

And they’re certainly having a moment now. Actually, they’re moving even closer, which he can’t complain to, and he doesn’t even care that he’s staring at his lips, until-

“Guys. I’m happy for you, but literally dying in here. Go away.”

Way to ruin the goddamn moment, Steve. He’s this close to cursing at the blonde boy, he loves that little shit, but seriously?!

Luckily, Sam’s in for the whole rescue.

“My room?”

“Definitely.”

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xnovamore · 4 years

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So my last fic for Samtember is not going to be up before midnight which sucks but I like this one and I’m still going to upload it once its complete. Here’s a little (unedited) sneak preview, it was written for the prompt: confessions

Summary: “You know, with the whole wings and explosions and saving my life thing, I almost forgot how bad you are at this.”

The first time it happened was back in middle school.

He, Erik, T’challa, and Riley had found an empty court to shoot around in when they once again ran into the Brooklyn duo. And as usual, Barnes pissed him off within seconds and Sam wanted nothing more than to finally settle it on the court and shut him up for good. But somewhere along the way, don’t ask him when or how he doesn’t know, Rogers had become Steve and the thought of checking the frail boy made him hesitate. Too bad for him, Steve had noticed his weary glance and a look that promised death flashed into those baby blue eyes. Before he knew it the shorter boy had his chin jerked up and was daring Sam to back down.

And well…Sam could never turn down a dare.

Steve lasted longer than he thought he would in a two against two. The game still came to a premature halt with Sam and T’challa far in the lead, but at least Sam worked up a sweat. He sat on the sidelines fanning himself and a red panting Steve as Erik and Riley took over for them. Sam watched the boy while being more careful to hide his concern lest the hothead demanded they go again. “You’re not gonna die, are you Rogers?”

“Fuck you” Steve crocked sending very much like a drying frog.

The smile that came over Sam was a cheeky one as was the chuckle that slipped from his lips, “You kiss your mama with that mouth?”

“Oh go jump in a-” he cuts himself off with a deep sounding wheeze. The smile Sam wore vanished in an instant and he moved closer to the boy now laying with his back to the pavement. He doesn’t think before he’s raising his hands to cup the side of the boy’s face turning him to look Sam in the eyes.

“Steve really are you okay?”

“I told you I’m fin-“ He cuts himself off eyes opening and going wide. Suddenly Steve’s blue eyes meet Sam’s dark brown and Sam’s world had tilted on its axis. It’s not that he hasn’t noticed Steve before, its just that he never noticed Steve in that way. Never noticed that in the burning sun with his cheeks all red and eyes so bright that Steve was actually kinda cute. Really cute now that he thought about it.

“That’s the first time you said it.” Steve mumbled. His eyes darted around Sam’s face as his own heated up even more. He glanced away hoping Sam wouldn’t notice his face being red for a reason other than nearly dying on the court.

“What?”

“My name…that’s the first time you called me Steve.”

It was dumb, a dumb thought and a dumb thing to notice but now they both were thinking about it. Sam tore his gaze from Steve looking everywhere but where that gaze was still intensely fixated on him. “Steve then.” He mumbled low. Steve let out a small gasp and their eyes connected once more. They shared a glance full of interest and confusion before Sam turned away. He purposely kept his body faced away from the boy hoping to draw away from whatever force drew him to Steve’s. They did not face each other for the rest of the game.

Then, a few hours later when the sun started to dim and Darlene Wilson’s warning to be in before the streetlights buzzed through his ears, Steve had turned catching Sam in his gaze once more. He smiled all sweet like with the red fragments of the sun reflecting in his glasses. And Sam did not know what was happening, didn’t understand why his stomach was turning and his heart tried to beat out of his chest. All he did know was that he didn’t want to look away.

That day was the first time it happened. And despite living completely different lives, it wasn’t the last.

#samtember #samsteve #sam x steve #sam wilson #samsteve fics #my writing #preview #the mutual pining is strong in this one #my post

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multiverseofmiracleshq · 3 years

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Every story has an end. After months of Wanda Maximoff controlling the town of Westview via her reality rewriting Hex, the WandaVision broadcast was dropped along with the barrier. As the barriers were set free and the Avengers rushed in, two confrontations occurred. Witches, corrupt government agents and the inescapable finality of loss all collided in one explosive finale that showed nothing would ever be the same.

THIS IS THE OFFICIAL CHAT LOG COVERAGE OF THE IC

AGATHA: She’d heard enough, seen enough — no more theories, Agatha had all the answers she needed. And that could really only end in one way in her eyes. Wanda had no idea what she was or what she was really even capable of for that matter. Whether or not that made her dangerous was irrelevant — because more importantly : it made her powerful. And if there was anything Agatha had been drawn to after all these years like a moth to a flame, it was power. Power to get out from beneath her coven — her mother — Oh the things one could do with the ability to shape reality. She’d be much more finely crafted with it too, this little world Wanda had created was impressive, but it wasn’t finely tuned. It had it’s kinks and tears — starting with her star contenders falling apart the second it caved. As the witch appeared in the center of the town square, Agatha clawed the air and curled a strike of purple magic at her back. Fitting. the beloved best friend striking her where she least expected it. “Did you know there’s an entire chapter devoted to you in the Darkhold?.” She asked, revealing the grimoire of dark arts before her. Its ember glowing pages flipped to a page for a creature of myth. “—It’s the book of the damned.” A sneer. “The Scarlet Witch is not born, she is forged — no need for incantation, or coven. Your power exceeds that of the Sorcerer Supreme. Your destiny... is to destroy the world. —Don’t believe me?—Here.” Agatha contorted her wrist and like snatching scarlet spiderwebs from her mind, she plucked David free from the crimson witches spell. “James Buchanan Barnes.” Agatha grinned. “Welcome back.”

WANDA: Every game had an end. Maybe Wanda was the queen of denying the inevitable. The part in her brain that was unable to heal was backed by an excess of power she had never understood. It all made more sense now even though Wanda was fairly certain that she knew nothing at all. Darkhold, runes, spells. The Scarlet Witch. How fitting it was to have that as her true identity. Years of hurt and pain had left her feeling powerless but that was never the case. There had always something inside of Wanda that stopped her from falling back into the abyss. It was power, and she had never known how good it could feel. Her body was sore after being thrown around by Agatha. Everyone seemed to have found their way to the town square, every narrative now connecting into the big picture. These people were captives and the woman holding the key was in sweatpants and a sweatshirt. She had been forced down memory lane and had her children almost hurt. Vision and the boys remained in her peripheral as Wanda spun to face the Winter Soldier that Agatha had freed. Her chest was heaving from an earlier display of power, her now shriveled hand extended towards the crowd. “--You were happy. You were fine. I’m sorry.”

BUCKY: Mind control was supposed to be easy - a simple switch flipped and lights out to the occupant. Whatever narrative, whatever brainwashing, whatever storyline created would supplant and override, signaling movements and forcing conversations that were unoriginal and baseless. That was the idea behind it, but for someone who had been submerged and pulled from the depths for decades of his life, James could feel the pull against his mind as he emerged and took a breath. It was alarming and painful, as much as it had been the first time he'd look through his own eyes and saw Sam clearly -- saw Yelena stare at him blankly before slipping into a mindless smile --- the thoughts came back to him in waves as he started dumbly before him, settling back into his skin. Going under was supposed to be easy, coming to was supposed to be easy, but it felt more like he was being dismantled and put back together again. James sucked in a breath and felt his body move forward - his first autonomous movement in only Wanda knew how long. "Happy?" His voice cracked from the rush of frustration and anger - the swell of panic from years of torture much in the way of Wanda's methods. "You think I haven't heard that before?"

WANDA: They would never understand. They would never understand and Wanda couldn’t blame them. Her actions had been wrong. They had been selfish and self satisfying. Her grief had become an excuse but no one would accept it anymore. She swallowed thickly, automatically taking a step back away from Barnes. It didn’t matter that she could easily take him down. Wanda was done hurting innocent people. “I just -- I didn’t mean,” Her words were caught up when Dottie approached, now free as well. Sarah Proctor. Eight year old daughter -- please let her out of her room so I can hold her. Dottie then Herb. Phil. Dennis. The citizens were all there with her accusatory stares and Wanda was unable to ward them off. She tucked her hand against her side, the spot where the magic had been extracted shriveled and brown. “Agatha!” That was a shot towards the sky where the witch hovered. “Stop. Please. Just -- stop.”

BILLY: His ties to reality ebbed and flowed, drawing images of a world he didn't recognize, of feelings and emotions that he wasn't connected to - and Billy had always dismissed them. He'd complained to Tommy a few times, even his mom, but they were always dismissed. Dreams, Billy, they're just dreams. But as he stared at Agnes, he was slowly starting to process the mix of memories. He had them both and could reconcile neither and even as the sky cleared, Billy almost wished he could go back under. Stepping back, he searched for Tommy, that instinct to find a brother he had now grown up with and not tugging at him. He didn't know if he wanted to be here, seeing faces he recognized - Captain America, the Winter Soldier, Magneto -- his eyes traced over heroes and mutants that weren't here to help, but they were all awake, and they'd all been dragged into this hell by his alternate reality mother.

YELENA: A glitch in the code. Wanda said they were happy. That meant they were happy, right? Her face twitched as some of the townsfolk cornered Wanda. She wanted to join in even if she couldn’t quite remember why. None of it made sense but there was one thing that Yelena and the the other unconscious residents knew: Wanda needed to stay happy. People were offering her things but she just took a step up towards the man who was supposed to be her husband ( that felt wrong, for some reason ). She didn’t care where the kids were. They didn’t feel like hers anyway at that moment. “I think you should drop it.”

PETER: Peter had been one of the lucky few in Westview that were granted awareness prior to today, and while he couldn’t say he understood just exactly what people like James had been through, the ordeal they had now shared was certainly something he wasn’t eager to get back to. He however, was probably one of the few that harbored more sympathy for Wanda than anger, and the urge to speak up had never been stronger. But Peter knew he’d be outnumbered in his beliefs and doing so would get him nowhere, despite how much his spidey sense was leaving his stomach in utter knots. So he kept quiet, watching from the sidelines as the woman he’d come to know as Agnes hovered above their heads, ready to strike at a moment’s notice should any harm come to Wanda or any of her family.

SAM: Talk about an escalation. One second he was back on his fuckboy shit and the next he was blinking away a massive magic headache again as Wanda’s spell wore off. It wasn’t just him though. Barnes had already engaged in direct contact with her along with a few residents. There were some still asleep judging by the vacant looks on their faces but the whole shebang was rapidly coming to an end. He joined Bucky and Yelena a step closer to Wanda than he preferred, attempting to give her a tight smile. She looked like she was falling apart. A little satisfying, but they had years of light friendship between them. “No one wants any trouble, Wanda. These people just want to go home. Wouldn’t mind it myself, either.”

BUCKY: Sam's voice had felt a lot like Steve's when he'd first heard it in Romania - a tether to the reality he'd been pulled away from. His gaze didn't waver from Wanda's, even if he wanted to turn and confirm that Sam was a real live person next to him, and not more manipulation by Wanda, but the look on her face, the awareness in the people surrounding her was enough confirmation to keep his eyes trained. "Speak for yourself, Wilson." it was clipped, angry. His fingers twitched as the panic continued to rise in his chest, almost overriding his sensibilities. James knew they just needed to get people out, but he couldn't get past how tired he was of people meddling with his brain.

SAM: Shifting from one foot to the other, Sam shook his head. “Nuh uh, nope. I’m not letting either of us getting erased from reality right now.” They had lost Wanda’s attention but she looked like a deer in the headlights. Only issue was that when she panicked she was liable to take everyone with her. “Parker,” Sam turned to Spider-man. “Good to see you’re with us. You ready for ugly?” Not that he was trying to will it into existence. “I’m hoping we got back-up waiting out there.” Knowing Carol, he was surprised she hadn’t smashed through the barrier like it was a spaceship yet.

PETER: Peter was mildly startled when Sam addressed him directly, his head snapping in the direction of the man in question. “—huh- oh yeah. Of course. I mean, not really. But I don’t think I have much of a choice in the matter.” Offering up a smile that slowly began to morph into a grimace, Peter gave Sam a halfhearted salute followed by a not so convincing “Ready when you are, Captain.”

WANDA: They were loud. Their thoughts, their desires. Now, more pressingly: their fear and anger. Norm -- no, Albliash Tandon was talking. When they dreamed - when they were allowed to sleep - they were subjected to her nightmares. This was all a twisted perversion of a fantasy. The people in Westview wanted to die rather than live under Wanda’s thumb any longer and she couldn’t blame them. This was hell on Earth presenting as heaven. Each voice chipped away at her and Wanda crumbled inside. “No, you’re fine.” She reassured them. “You’re fine. I kept you safe in here. You -- You feel... at peace.” A lie. They felt her pain. Wanda was crying and pleading with them like a madman. Her grief was poisoning them. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop Stop. She kept repeating it but they would’t listen. A scream exploded from her chest, hands clutching her face as scarlet tendrils wrapped around their thoughts and everyone in the square dropped. Her children remained off to the side, Agatha in the sky. Wanda didn’t notice any of them as she doubled over. As they writhed and choked, realization set in. “No, stop. Stop.” It took two shakes of her hand before the magic faded. She stared down at them, one whole and one ruined. How had she turned into this? If you won’t let us go, just kill us. No -- no, Wanda would let them go. She’d fix this. And then there was Agatha, goading her. Heroes don’t torture people, The voice of the Witch voice rang out somewhere in her mind above the din. A hero. Wanda was one, past actions excluded. She cared about people. She wanted to change a world that had hurt her. Heroes didn’t hurt people. Wanda was done. Sneakers planted on the ground, Wanda’s spine curved as the force of her magic began to bend her backwards. The column of red energy hit the roof of the Hex and exposed its edges and corners. It felt like ripping a part of herself apart but she still managed a pained, “Get out! Go.”

YELENA: It was incredible to go from being mind controlled into a zombie to being choked out on the street. Her first conscious thoughts were trying to make sure she could breath and then flipping onto her back to blink against the red glow of the Hex. Hex. Barrier. Wanda. With a grunt, Yelena climbed first to her knees and then her feet. Maximoff was there but divided. She was in pain ( not as much as she’d inflected on them though ) and vulnerable. Killing her was tempting, but her belt held no knives or guns. Even though whatever outfit Wanda had forced Yelena into was gone the clothes she had been wearing that night were weaponless. “Блядь,” she spat. “This is where we kill her, isn’t it?”

CAROL: Carol had parked it just a few yards away from the glowing red wall, the force of the magic hot enough to feel like she was standing in front of the sun, but still, she didn't move. She sat with her knees pulled up, forearms resting atop, and she contemplated her options. Behind her, commotion was ongoing as they watched Westview dissolve and they were losing signal because Wanda was losing it and Westview was quickly going dark. It was only a matter of time, and if necessary, Carol would find a way through, even if it pissed Wanda off. She was ready for a head to head. Itching for one. But just as her eyes made the rounds again as she scanned the corners she could make out, the ground beneath her began to shake, responding to a sudden rush of energy. Carol jumped to her feet, the hex splitting open and spilling out light from the other side. She didn't look back, she didn't wait for confirmation. Sending a rush of energy to her feet, Carol shot forward as soon as she saw the trees on the other side, emerging and landing heavily in grass. She didn't even give a glance back - by the accounts she tracked during the observations, she had a pretty good idea where Wanda was -- even if there wasn't a beam of red energy erupting from ground zero.

BUCKY: "Yes." James shoved himself to his feet, the shifting of metal a suddenly phantom feeling as his shoulder accustomed to supporting the weight of his arm again. He didn't even want to think about what else Wanda had changed - what narrative she had forced down their throats. "It sure fucking is."

SAM: Well, shit. The town was glitching. It was rapidly beginning to cycle through the different decades that Wanda had subjected it to. Already in go mode, Sam began waving civilians towards the widening gap. He wasn’t sure how long Wanda could sustain it, but it didn’t look like very long. “No, we’re not going to do that.” He shook his head at Yelena. If she and Bucky wanted to duke it out over who got to deal the final blow, that was awesome for the assassins. Not for Sam though, and he planned on keeping everyone alive. Belova wasn’t pregnant anymore and Barnes had his arm back. His metal arm back, that was. “She hurt more than just us. Right now, our job is making sure she doesn’t hurt anyone else. We get them out of here with her alive. I’m not willing to risk what happens if this barrier comes down on us.”

PIETRO: He’d been standing outside the barrier for what felt like centuries. Each second ticked by like agony as he stared at the sea of red encasing everything he’d ever loved within its clutches. The spread of it was slow at first, crimson stretching apart until it tore — his eyes dropped to the narrow opening just as it shuddered open and he was gone. A deafening boom of sound obliterating the air around him as debris dusted in a wake of blue and silver streaks. He tore through the opening, moving with so much momentum that gravity barely had the chance to acknowledge his presence before he was gone again, across the side of a building in a wide take on the ninety degree angle turn, nothing but a gush of air as he raced down the street. Luna. Crys. Wanda. —Wanda.—Crys. — Luna. wandalunacryslunawandacrys. His mind was racing and then all at once it didn’t matter. She was standing there with their baby in his arms and he slid to a pavement shattering halt with a thunderous snap just thirty feet from them. “Crystalia—“ he appeared in front of her, searching her face—searching Luna’s. “Are you okay??”

HAYWARD: The crack was enough. They were already ready, beyond ready now, as their technology flew out ahead of them, disappearing through the separated barrier to complete its given commands. Hayward packed himself into an armored vehicle and lead the pack of vehicles and tanks as they climbed over the terrain to finally enter Westview. Their concern had little to do with the citizens and more to do with handling the mutant that had created this alternate reality mess. When the truck hit asphalt and entered the town square, he was finally facing down Wanda, depowered and looking exhausted. The town must be empty, he concluded, the citizens fleeing from the twisted story she'd subjected them all to. All that was left was just a minor handful of people, those Wanda seemed closest too considering all the video feeds he'd watched.

AGATHA: Agatha watched the scene before her, floating above the chaos she’d snipped the stitchings to with all the amusement of someone detached and cold. It didn’t really matter to her how Wanda felt. That wasn’t what she was after. “Careful Wanda, your precious babies are tied to this messy little world you’ve created.” Agatha sighed. “Collapse it all now and ..” she tsked “well, look at them. they’re writhing.”

BUCKY: He was seething, struggling to see beyond the slew of memories he had that weren't his -- how happy he had felt, and how that was being soured by betrayal. All he wanted to do was rush forward, even if Wanda snapped him out of existence before he got the chance. But he forced his feet back, forced himself to grab onto Yelena's arm --- something he wouldn't have done under normal circumstances but nothing about this screamed normal -- and started moving away. "This conversation isn't over, Sam." James said with a finality as he turned to usher out the crowd towards the nearest fault in Wanda's wall.

PETER: Peter was suitless, now clad in the same oversized hoodie and baseball cap he’d been wearing the night he was sucked into the hex. Thankfully, however, past Peter had been smart enough to not come unprepared, and present Peter thanked his lucky stars as the familiar feeling of his web shooters materialized around his wrists. Watching James and Yelena nervously, he opted instead to assist Sam in evacuating civilians, using his webbing to pull collapsing debris and obstacles out of the way of the crack in the hex.

DAISY: Daisy had been waiting for the order like everyone else to go into the hex, and as she watched the walls began to collapse she didn’t hesitate to aim her gauntlet covered hands to the ground and sent a shockwave large enough to propel her into the air. It got her far enough to where she was just trailing behind Carol, and she used her powers again to break her fall before breaking off into a sprint towards the town center. As civilians ran past her, she did her best to give them some encouraging words. “You’re all going to be safe soon! Just run towards the edge of the wall as fast as you can!” She didn’t have time to usher people out, though. She needed to find Hayward and stop him from making a strike on Wanda, and everyone else that was still in the surrounding area.

WANDA: It hurt. That was what her mind was focused on. It hurt with every fiber of her being to exert that much energy at once. As the town began to revert and glitch Wanda felt silent tears streak down her face. She deserved this on some level. Her creation and ruination combined. Wanda channeled everything she had into the rectification of her mistake until she felt it. An untethering. There was screaming but then there was the sound of her husband, her sons. They were dying -- again, in Visions case -- and Wanda wasn’t ready to let them go. There was a scream that left her throat and then the barrier was closing once more. They were tethered, tied. That was mostly true. There was no Vision outside of Westview. The world had saw to that when they took him away from her. But her boys, they persisted. The dissolving aura that surrounded Vision faded away while remaining on the twins. Just like it had happened before they were conceived, a division occurred. Two boys were left coughing on the pavement while their original selves - the older ones - were once again separate. The red faded away and Wanda was left breathless and weak. Even though she felt like she was going to fall over if she took a step she somehow managed to drag herself to her younger boys and her husband. “Are you okay? Look at me -- are you okay?” She grabbed the twin’s by the face, her attention on them and not Hayward’s militia.

SAM: At least everyone was working together. His head tipped in Bucky’s direction as he grabbed the Widow by the arm. Better to let them work it out among themselves. “Didn’t think it was, Bucky.” He turned his attention then towards the current effort. “Hey, spiderthing, you got any reservations about throwing old people?”

TOMMY: He couldn’t quite separate it any more — the younger version of him he’d been combined with and the person he was before, so much so that it was hard to tell which one was falling apart anymore until he finally thought it was just him. All of him being stretched and pulled and ripped away until finally it was like a rubber band snapping and he gasped, staring at a version of himself that didn’t even look like him when he was a kid. “What the fuck?” Tommy said, sitting flat on his ass in the middle of the street. His hands flapped around his torso, checking for—for holes or janky missing parts— maybe parts that weren’t his but nothing, none of that just...him. all him. “...Billy....???” He called out warily.

MONICA: Monica didn’t want to talk about where she had been or her unfortunate experience with Ralph Bohner. That was for another day. Ultimately, she had wasted time getting to the town square. The barrier was closing again but the space had been inundated with familiar faces. “Hey, S.H.I.E.L.D.” She tilted her head towards Daisy as their paths intersected. “Wanda -- is she alive still?”

YELENA: To say she was angry was an extreme understatement. Yelena had been indoctrinated for as long as she could remember. Her entire being had been reduced into being a replacement for a woman who had decided to move on. Yelena was not Natalia. She had learned that over time, even though they had denied her own name. She was her own, and yet, Wanda had erased that. An American. One who made pies and gave a shit about what people thought about her. Yelena was not the pretty one. She never had been. That was Natalia, lithe and delicate. Yelena hid in curved edges. She wasn’t a beauty queen and suburbia was never in her cards. Having someone who loved her was almost as ridiculous. Two assassins as parents? No. She refused to let her hand touch her stomach like it had when she was pregnant. Yelena knew what was there: a scar. no signs of life. She made it approximately five steps before pulling her arm from James’ grasp. “Ты не мой муж, James ( you’re not my husband). Отпустить (let go). I’m not leaving.”

PETER: Peter continued in his efforts of getting civilians to safety as quickly as possibly, but Sam’s voice once again snapped him out of it, “—do I what? You can’t be serious, dude!” Yelena was clearly growing angry pretty quickly and Peter was growing overwhelmed. The sounds of Wanda’s distress mixed with that of utter chaos were almost becoming too much to handle, but Peter stuck to it, launching himself toward the Captain with his webbing and landing beside the man with a soft thud. “You want me to — “ he held up a web shooter and vaguely gestured in Yelena and James’ direction with a shrug.

SAM: “Desperate times, desperate measures, man.” The octogenarians weren’t really moving fast enough and Wanda had finally lost steam. They were going to be trapped but the heroes could at least take care of themselves. As Peter moved to stand by his side, Sam’s shoulders rose and fell. “I don’t speak Russian and I know she can kill me. He could too, but we’re friends. Mostly. Think we let them work it out?”

VISION: It wasn’t the first time he’d felt himself being torn apart at the seams—at the barrier, he’d felt it then. The popping of parts as they flew loose, chunks of reality melting away into stardust and matter. He strained to reach them—his wife, his children. “Wanda!—Boys!” he gritted through his teeth, pushing through an invisible force that allowed no headway. Then all at once, he collapsed, all his pieces flew back into place and he caught his breath. His sons had once again separated into their older and younger selves. “I’m alright.” he assured her, looking to his children for any missing chunks.

WANDA: They were okay. They were fine. Maybe they wouldn’t be in the long haul, but in that moment her family was whole once more. No missing pieces, no slipping away and dissolving into the air. Wanda exhaled a sigh of relief, kissing the top of Billy and Tommy’s heads. The barrier was back in place and they had once again stolen a few extra minutes. “Go home, boys.” Wanda released them. “Get to safety.” Not that anywhere was safe. Their house had been a haven. At the very least it put a few walls between themselves and Hayward’s agents. Wanda had warned them off. She had told S.H.I.E.L.D. to leave her alone but they clearly no longer feared her. No fear, no respect. Wanda was just another obstacle. She squeezed Vision’s hand, relief bubbling in her chest. Wanda had barely made it to her feet when something slammed into her and a vice grip was around her neck. White hands led up white arms and a ivory form. It was the Vision but it was not. There was something cold and calculating about his blue eyes. Even though she had just seen her husband, there was something unsettling about his quiet form. He was achingly familiar. “Vision?” She rasped. He just stared at her before his grip tightened. “And here I thought you were supposed to be powerful.”

PETER: Peter spoke to Sam in a manner akin to a student whispering to his friend in the back of class, careful to not let the teacher catch them, “— yeah, but if we leave them be - won’t they go after Wanda? I don’t know if I can take them both — “

TOMMY: Grabbing his correct twin, Tommy took a fistful of the back of his shirt and raced them both out of Westview before the barrier could close back up.

CRYSTALIA: There was a chance that Crystal was the only one who had willingly entered Westview. She hadn’t really know what she was signing up for but knew she had no choice. The second that Luna had vanished there hadn’t been a single thing in the world that mattered more to her than setting things right. There was a crippling fear that it was Crystal’s fault it had happened in the first place. Realistically she knew Wanda’s powers, but as a young first time mother it all seemed so pivotal on her inability to hold on when it mattered. And so, she entered hell. Crystalia wasn’t a Princess anymore. She had a ridiculous backstory and always felt exhausted even when she smiled. And she was always smiling. Her child screamed and she was helpless to do anything until Wanda fixed it. It felt impossible to say how long it had been, but the second the red cloud began to leave her mind Crystal began to panic. Luna was awake but wasn’t crying. The infant almost seemed solemn. Had Wanda hurt her? Crystal would kill her if so, but the baby betrayed nothing. Everyone in the town square was loud. They were panicking but Crystalia was trying to center herself. She was naturally attuned to the world -- being in elemental meant being grounded. She could feel the vibrations of the earth and the moisture in the air and that was reassuring. That being said, it’s hard to be grounded when your not sister in law decides to choke an entire town out. Crystal had pressed Luna against her, resting the unaffected baby on her chest as she hit her knees. Pietro loved Wanda. Crystal had spent her abbreviated pregnancy watching him all apart. He loved her, but Crystalia hated her. She hated what she had done to her and her daughter. At the thundering sound, the Princess instinctively tucked Luna against herself. Head spinning, she took a step towards her baby daddy Pietro. “It’s you.” As in, not the fake version she had been forced to marry.

SAM: There was a noncommittal grunt. “Bucky, no. He wants to but he knows what we’re focusing on. Yelena, I’m not sure. It would be easier if Nat was here.” Not that the sisters relationship was outwardly anything other than contentious. “I’d say lovers quarrel but that wasn’t real.” Technically their sleeping together was but Sam wasn’t sure if that was public knowledge. “Speaking of lovers, you see a Carol shaped comet yet?”

PIETRO: When they’d vanished he felt the last parts of himself that he’d been clinging to, crumble. Wanda had been rejecting him in more ways than one and ripping his new born and Crys from him just days after Luna had been born had broken something for him that just hadn’t operated right since. His mind loosely drifted to his twin but he was more focused on this—Wanda could handle herself. Right now he needed to hold his daughter and her mother. Pietro pulled both of them against him, tucking Luna between their bodies as he wrapped them in his arms. He felt a breath fully expand his lungs for the first time in weeks. “It’s you.” he said. “Both of you.” He kissed the top of her bright red hair. “Please tell me you’re okay.”

DAISY: Daisy smiled a bit when she saw Monica, glad to see the familiar face. “S.W.O.R.D.” She breathed out in a sigh of relief before she stopped in her tracks and nodded as she pointed over towards the big red beam in the sky, but then it faded again and her head tilted to the side. The borders were closing, but thankfully she seemed to still be in her right of mind. For now, at least. “Where the hell is Hayward?”

CRYSTALIA: Folding into him, Crystal allowed herself to take a shaky breath. She wasn’t sad, only angry. Her child had been endangered for no reason at all. “It’s me. As of a few minutes ago, at least.” There was the sharp curl of humiliation in her stomach at the thought of who Wanda had forced her to be. Her family had to be worried. She was an adult but she’d always be the baby of the family -- forever the princess, never the queen. It was a miracle that the Inhumans hadn’t taken any kind of action against Wanda. Or, she assumed they hadn’t. Although it was nearly physically painful, Crystalia angled her body to offer Pietro his daughter. “She hurt us.” It was hard to explain the feeling. “Every second. Just grief. But you, you were there.” Wanda mourned her brother. Maybe she knew Crystal’s connection to him and let her share in that sorrow. Falling silent as her processing spun slowly, the Inhumans brows furled. “She had me get married to some knock off version of you who smelled. I had to live with him.” Not that he cared or was attentive. It was just part of the game.

BUCKY: James stopped, giving the collapsing Hex a glance before he shifted his gaze to her. "И что вы будете делать, Yelena." and what will you do? He didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to deal with it. With regret already settling into his skin, James bent and scooped Yelena up by her hips, hinging her over his shoulder, his metal arm tight around her waist. He knew he was taking her choice from her just minutes after she'd gotten it back, but she could take that out on him outside of Wanda's hell fantasy. He followed Sam and the rest.

PETER: Peter was shocked to notice James scoop Yelena off her feet and carry the assassin to the break in the Hex, but he didn’t question it, gaze instead flicking to the sky to check for any sign of the Carol shaped comet. “I don’t know? Thought I saw her earlier, Quake was nearby too — she shouldn’t be too hard to spot!” he spoke a bit louder, almost a yell, over the rumbling chaos.

YELENA: Body thrashing slightly, Yelena knew five ways to break his hold that would also bring him to his knees. She knew how to fight back but she was exhausted. Her body didn’t know how to handle going from being pregnant to remembering that it was impossible to exist in that state. “я собираюсь убить тебя ( i’m going to kill you ),” she hissed, knowing that his ear was right by her mouth. Going slack then, the spy allowed him to carry her away from the place she wanted to be and the person she wanted to kill.

VISION: He was flying over Westview, scanning for his wife among the scattered bodies running around below. When he finally passed over their home, he found a startling view: a being, stark white in nature — and worse, he seemed to have Wanda by the head. A visual that sent his vital organs or lack thereof plummeting to the earth below. Vision rocketed forward, slamming into the other synthezoid with a force that sent them tumbling into the ground like an asteroid. They left a crater in their wake as he carried him far away from his family. Vision threw the synthezoid up, chasing him higher into the sky—farther away from Wanda.

MONICA: “Hayward’s where Wanda is.” Monica replied, knowing it to be true. “He wants Vision and she’d do anything to protect him. That’s where I’m going.” Without waiting, Monica turned to move towards the glowing epicenter with the notion Daisy would follow. As the red column began to die down she hurried her pace into a run until she skidded to a stop. Hayward was looking smug and his shoulders were at the ready. It was then that they fired at the retreating forms of Wanda’s twins and without any hesitation Monica threw herself in front of them. She had been the one to help deliver them. Even if it was all fake, she had handed the newborns to Wanda and watched that love grow. One bullet entered and then the other. There was no pain or skin breaking. For a moment it was just light. It was like breaking through the barrier. Monica felt them enter and exit in a surge of energy. She blinked through a new golden glow, mind trying to comprehend the sight of Vision wrestling what looked like a ghostly version of himself away from Wanda. “It’s over, Hayward.” It was easy to say when you had just tapped into the light spectrum. “It’s done.”

SAM: Holding both hands up, Sam shook his head. They were going to sort it out. The Winter Soldier and White Widow were well equipped for one another. Maybe Belova would try to kill Barnes. He couldn’t see it going the other way. Not that Sam was actively betting on Barnes’ love life. “If you want to go, kid, I don’t blame you. I’m going to stay here though. See if anyone needs help.” Leave no man behind. Sam was trying to be the best Captain he could.

PIETRO: An actual twinge of pain ebbed through him at her words. She hurt us. They echoed through his skull like gun shots. He felt his tongue go dry and his legs go numb as he pulled her to him a little tighter. They weren’t words he’d wanted to hear, but he needed to. The part of him that twitched to run to Wanda in any capacity was subdued by a haunting feeling of guilt. He had missed her but the joy of seeing her again was squandered by pain she’d caused. To his daughter. Crystalia. Him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry—I should have protected you.” You never should have been there. I should have stopped her. She should have never done this. The words died on his tongue before they had a chance to form. It didn’t matter. The damage was done. And no amount of words would remedy the scars that had been left. “What can I do?” He asked into her hair, smoothing a hand down her back. At her comment about the awful imposter that had been branded with his name, a subdued scoff of a laugh left his throat. “He smelled, huh? Well at least you don’t like him better.” He mused, an ill attempt at a joke. Of course she wouldn’t have. He’d been awful.

DAISY: Daisy quickly followed suit behind Monica, with absolutely no hesitation. They needed to make their way over there, and fast. There was no telling what Hayward had planned. And sure enough, Daisy ran up just in time to see an ivory tinted version of Vision and the real- er, hex vision flying up into the sky with him. “Shit..” She muttered under her breath as she sped up her pace. And when she ran up to Hayward and saw him opening fire on a couple of kids, her heart sank as she realized that she was too late. She quickly held her hand up and tried to pinpoint vibrations on all of the guns to shake them apart, but the bullets had already exited the chamber. In fact, he fired several rounds before she was able to destroy the guns. But then Monica was throwing herself in front of the kids and Daisy’s eyes widened as she watched the bullets go straight through the other agent. That must have been a new development. And she very quickly quaked most of the bullets in a different direction before they could actually hit Billy and Tommy. And then, she turned to Hayward and narrowed her eyes before tilting her finger and using her powers to snap all of the bones in his hand and his wrist. “Stand down, now. Or I’ll break a lot more than just that.”

PETER: Peter debated his next move for a few seconds, and while Sam was partly right - he did want to leave, to go home, to call MJ and Ned, and make sure everyone was okay - he also knew what he had to do. He was Spider-Man. Maybe he didn’t quite look like it at the moment, sans suit, but there was no denying it - and there was no walking away from that. “No — I’ll stay, I’ll stay. Just - tell me what you need me to do.”

CAROL: She felt sheer force slam into her shoulder as Carol full bodied the nearest armored truck, smashing it into the nearest one and then cascading that energy through the tank nearest to the rest. It was a calculated move -- they were aiming guns at children and the tank was setting up to fire. Now, she had put enough force and energy through the vehicles that they were little more than metal boxes now as she peeled herself out of the metal and took a moment to crack her back. "You really underestimate us, Hayward." She said casually just before she registered Monica. She didn't have nearly enough time to address that situation before she spotted Sam. She didn't say anything to him, she didn't know what she'd say, so she looked to Monica and Daisy. "Nice teamwork guys. Now. Where's our mutant?"

SAM: Peter was a good kid. They had a strange introduction but Sam could say that about everyone he knew at this point. He was offering his mouth to respond when the Carol comet he had inquired about smashed into Hayward. Coughing from the dust that rose from the rubble, Sam jutted his chin towards where Wanda was sucking in breath. “Looks like we have a Vision problem.”

LORNA: As it stood, Lorna was positive she was going to go back towards being an only child. Erik didn’t even like Pietro and they had basically just met him. The mutant had come to alongside her father. Her green hair was a dull brown that was only just returning to its normal hue. It felt ridiculous to be standing in a full cape and headpiece in the middle of the town square, but Lorna had other things to focus on. Carol Danvers ( ugh ) was smashing into Hayward and someone Lorna didn’t recognize was apparently casually breaking his bones. Striding up, green flared around the guns of the soldiers before they snapped in half. The bullets unloaded to clatter pointlessly to the ground. “God, I love guns. More than I love this family at least.”

MONICA: Teamwork made the dream work. Monica had been trained as an agent to learn how to balance working with a group. It made life easier. She became a human target, Carol was Carol and the new Agent was inflicting pain on Hayward that Monica would personally have loved to be responsible for. “She willingly took the barrier down.” Monica said as she strode in Carol’s direction. “But it was killing her family. That was before another Vision showed up. And, also, there’s a witch.”

PETER: Peter watched on in a slight crazed panic, at the scene Sam alerted him to, and a broken smile forced its way onto his face, “Hey then we better get some glasses — you know..? Because - vision problem,” he quipped, regretting even opening his mouth before shaking his head and launching a web toward the wrestling duo, the tendril managing to cling to the bottom of one of the ghostly vision’s feet. Peter gave a sharp tug, but it didn’t appear to do much besides briefly interrupt the fight, “Uhh - what do I do??”

CAROL: "Another Vision?" Carol shot a look at Hayward, but he was too preoccupied dealing with his bones and the loss of his firepower to pay Carol any mind. "Witch?" That also caught her attention. "Another mutant then or?" she didn't know why the questions mattered. They didn't. They'd just been so out of the loop for so long she was itching for answers. "So let's go get her then."

VISION: The sky lit up in an array of blue and gold as the two synthezoid’s went at one another, each determined to destroy the next. In all the thrashing, he kept them steered clear from anyone below. “What are you?”

CRYSTALIA: It was over. Or, at the very least, it almost was. Wanda was out of her mind and the absence of the spell left the clarity of uninterrupted thought. Pietro pulled her even closer and there was a comfort to be found in a firm embrace. He was strong -- maybe not strong enough to stop his sister -- but solid nonetheless. All Crystalia wanted to do was rest. If she broke down it would not be there. Her pride was too persistent. “It’s not your fault,” Crystal shook her head, one hand briefly resting above his heart. “Any anger I have is towards Wanda. There was nothing you could have done.” Once Wanda wanted something no one had been able to stand in her way. There was a hurricane of emotion that could be sorted through later. Right the she just wanted to make sure her daughter was safe. “You can take us home.” Wherever that was. New Attilan or the Avengers Compound. Home was anywhere but Westview. Even then she doubted that she’d sleep well but at least it would be on her own terms. At the mention of “Pietro”, Crystal shook her head. Her hair was down and loose in strawberry curls, fly aways blowing into her face. “He didn’t come around much and he didn’t care about Luna. I can’t even remember marrying him.”

THE VISION: What was he? A good question. He was functional, capable. He was built with a purpose to last. He was, most importantly, real. That was more than the synthezoid he grappled with could say. Their twin bodies phased through one another, mental beams hitting empty air. “I am the Vision.” The reply was simple, syllables plain and straightforward. This was not something he struggled to understand. His being was laid out in code and his object is clear. Body twisting in the air to get a grasp, the synthezoid managed to get hit a hit in that sent his counterpart hurtling through the air and crashing into what appeared to be a library. His descent was slower, cape gently fluttering around his legs as he hovered above the wooden floor. “And I am here to neutralize the Vision.”

DAISY: Once Hayward seemed to have given up, Daisy stomped towards him and grabbed him by the arm, glaring down at him. As she glanced behind her and spotted a couple other S.W.O.R.D. agents who made it through the barrier with them, she practically shoved him towards them and shook her head. "Take Director Dick here back towards the base once the barrier opens back up. We'll deal with the paperwork there." She insisted, and the other two didn't even question it as they got him in handcuffs and loaded him into one of the nearby vehicles. She approached Monica and Carol at the tail end of the conversation. "I'm sorry did you say another witch?" As she glanced up towards the sky, she finally saw the woman who was surrounded by a purple aura and her eyes widened. "Oh, yeah. That's another witch. Let's find Wanda."

VISION: Vision rose to his feet, facing his ghostly counter part once again, head on. He charged at him, tangling them in a web of vibranium limbs, he twisted White Vision into a headlock, stilling them for a breath of a moment. then it occurred to him: “But I’m not the true Vision. Only a conditional one.”

WANDA: It was time for it all to finally end. Wanda had kept up the ruse for as long as possible but the walls had done more than cave in. There were Avengers - friends - and there had been innocents. Wanda had walked through her reasoning and watched it go down in her minds eye. She had been many things, but fear was the root cause of everything. It all traced back to her fear -- and she was terrified no more. There was just calm resolve as she left Carol and the others with Hayward. Rising into the air so that Westview became a map below her, Wanda gave it her all. She tried to enter Agatha’s mind as the Witch had once done to her. It was a failure of an idea, the coven of witches that Agatha had drained instead turning on Wanda. In some ways she was out of her element, but there was also a part of her that had been waiting for this moment. Agatha wanted to know how she did it? Fine. She wanted her power? She’d let her try to take it. Wanda couldn’t escape her fate. She threw blast after blast and felt her body start to shrivel up. If Agatha wanted it all, she could have it. Red poured from Wanda into Agatha, purple and red mingling. She gave her everything she had until she was left floating with red eyes and withered skin.

AGATHA: Agatha had asked for it — but the funny thing about wishes — you had to be careful with them. After all the universe did like to screw you. Honestly she was a little surprised to see the red witch cave so easily — not that it stopped her from draining her of everything she could. Her magic tasted hellish on her tongue and it filled her with a sense of power she’d only ever sensed in beings of the cosmic scale. Her arms stretched wide as the tendrils of chaos flowed through her—and then...suddenly...it stopped. No. No—that wasn’t right, they weren’t done. Agatha tried to draw more, only nothing happened, not even a sputter of sparks from her finger tips. “What?”

MONICA: “Y’know, I really wanted to be the one who did that.” Monica shook her head. Hayward had taken something her mother had created as a labour of love and exploited it for power. There was a sharp sting of disappointment that she couldn’t be the one who finally got to haul him away in sweet retribution. But this was reality. You didn’t always get to be the hero you wanted to. Hayward had been taken care of and Monica had to be happy with that victory. “Agatha Harkness. Turns out Agnes wasn’t just a nosy neighbor.” They had only interacted marginally. Geraldine had no reason to pay her much attention. “I know where Wanda is.” A finger pointed upwards. “And I’m not getting involved.”

PETER: Peter jogged up to Monica and the others, having just witnessed the immense transfer of power between the two witches, “Does anyone have any idea what’s happening?? I don’t think my web shooters will do any good against that,” he pointed to the sky, worriedly.

REMY: Plenty of them had stood at the border, waiting for something more than silence and occasional updates on the happenings of inside. But then the Hex had fractured and teams had been ordered in for extraction - save the people, evacuate the town - and Remy had done his best to follow that order, but he didn't know how to be a hero. Not really. Not in the selfless capacity. He slipped down back alleyways to avoid the crowds of people and just followed where they were fleeing from until he emerged in the center of the town. There were trucks, SWORD had made it in, and a few stray heroes were incapacitating them. But his attention was drawn elsewhere, because goddamit he was tired of the loss and gain of their relationship. "You gonna keep making me chase you down?" he said, just loud enough to grab Lorna's attention. "I'm starting to wonder if it's on purpose" there was no immediate threat, nothing he could attack, even if they, and he, were still on high alert. And this was the only way he could manage because presently, he wasn't managing well at all.

CAROL: Carol followed Monica's gaze and she almost shot a load of energy into her boots but forced herself to stay planted. As much as she wanted to engage, it would be out of her own selfishness, not because she was needed. "Fine." she looked straight at Monica. "You wanna explain to me what the hell is going on with you then?"

DAISY: "He's all yours once we get back to the base." Daisy insisted, knowing that Monica would love to be the one who did his official intake. She may have let her anger get the best of her back there once she saw him firing at those kids, but then she was reminded of those bullets floating straight through Monica like she wasn't even solid matter. And then Carol mentioned it and Daisy couldn't help herself from commenting too. "That was really brave of you back there. Stupid, but brave. Did you even know you would be able to do that? That's new, right?" She didn't remember powers being mentioned at all when it came to Monica.

PIETRO: It didn’t matter whether or not it was his fault, he didn’t do his job. Against the one person he should have been best at it. Her words stung, but he understood where they were coming from. She had a right to be angry — he was still angry. Loving Wanda more than he could handle didn’t exclude him from holding her accountable. You can take us home. He nodded, relief flooding him to know they’d be sleeping under the same roof tonight. They were alive and well and his. He smoothed the stray pieces of her red hair from her face and kissed her. “Then don’t. Marry me instead.” He proposed. It seemed to come from no where, but he’d been thinking about it before. He’d only stopped himself because he hadn’t wanted it to happen just because of Luna. Now though — he just didn’t care what it looked like. He was tired of tripping up on calling her his girlfriend because it was so much more than that between them. “Yeah.” he said, tilting his head and tucking her hair behind he ear. “Marry me.”

WANDA: Surprise. It turned out that Wanda was an incredibly quick study. She was barely able to stay afloat and it felt like Agatha had taken everything from her, but Wanda persevered. That was what she did. Time and time again she found a way to survive. As Agatha’s realization began to dawn Wanda found herself revitalized. Runes. They began to glow as the giant shapes lit up the sky. “In a given space, only the witch who cast them can use her magic. Thanks for the lesson, but I don’t need you to tell me who I am.” It was like the floodgates were opening. This was chaos unleashed. Agatha was pleading but the world was a red blur. It encased Wanda in its blinding light. She felt it solidifying around her temple, infusing her with pure potential. Destiny, fate, burdens. All words that had been thrown at her. At that moment, Wanda didn’t care. She was everything and she was nothing. She was, without a doubt, the Scarlet Witch and as a nexus of powers potential personified. Maybe Agatha was right. She didn’t fully know what she had done. Encased in magic, the new scarlet of Wanda’s outfit reflected the failing borders of the world she had built. For so long she had lacked a name, and in some ways, a higher purpose. That was no more. Red swirled around her palm as Wanda lowered herself and the defeated Agatha back towards the ground. She dropped the Witch unceremoniously before gently drifting down herself. Something was different. Everything was different. Red died from green eyes as Wanda turned towards the small crowd of people she knew, silent as her power threaded itself through her veins.

CAROL: Carol shifted her attention abruptly, calculating the woman who stood before her. She always knew Wanda was powerful - she'd dealt with enough powerful mutants to build a roster and by now, her instinct was to defend. "Wanda-" she started, but she made no move to approach. "You've got a lot of things to own up to." If Wanda attacked, Carol would defend -- but the last thing Carol would do was retreat, no matter if Wanda got a fancy new outfit in the last ten minutes up in the sky.

PETER: Peter couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. Sure he’d fought in battles by Wanda’s side before, and even fought - well tried to fight - Wanda herself. But this was different. This was a whole other level — and Peter felt almost frozen in place as he watched everything commence, only broken from his trance-like state at the sound of Carol’s voice addressing the now grounded Wanda.

THE VISION: The two fought. They were beings forged with great power but remained intellects at heart. He required further elaboration. The two talked then, quick debate spurred on by processing cores and a desire to learn. This was the Ship of Theseus, the dilemma of a conundrum. They were both Vision and they were not. One was memory and heart and the other the tangible devoid of that which had once made him. He could not destroy the Vision because he was the Vision. Alternatively, neither of them were the Vision. They had been twisted by greed -- both that of Wanda’s love and Hayward’s thirst for power. Together, perhaps, they could be one but that was not to be. Life had made them diametrically opposed through intentions he did not understand. It was with a quiet hesitation that the Vision let Vision touch the processing chip that had once housed the Mind Stone. And then -- clarity. Wanda. Sokovia. Wanda. Ultron. An accident that rendered a man paralyzed. This was the Vision as he once was. He was machine made more. Recoiling backwards, the blue of his eyes began to clear. “I am Vision.” Where that left the other he knew not, but the revitalized Vision shot out o the building without another word and escaped the barrier to find a place to enter deep contemplation.

VISION: Vision watched him go, left to float by himself among the now quiet air of the library. After but a moment or two, he soared out of the hole in the roof of the building to find Wanda and the boys. He didn’t know where any of it left the other synthezoid in his programming to destroy himself, but he was hoping it would override it. Upon landing, Vision phased through Carol to get to Wanda. “Captain Danvers.” he said on the pass through. “With all due respect, while I understand your qualms with my wife, they can wait another ten minutes — we’ve our children to get to.”

DAISY: Daisy watched in awe as Wanda fought it out with Agatha, still kind of in shock that this was the level of threats she was dealing with nowadays. That really was an Avenger up there, and she was standing next to freaking Captain Marvel. She was practically in the same amount of shock as Peter was as she stared dumbfounded with him, only to snap out of it at the sound of Wanda’s feet hitting the grass. She glanced down at Peter and raised her eyebrows at him in an attempt at a silent conversation, knowing he’d probably get her amazement.

MONICA: For what felt like the hundredth time in her life, Monica stood with her head tilted up towards the sky. This time there was no stars or Aunt who had turned to legend. It was a broken woman and a force set out against her. “I think what’s happening with me can wait.” Monica’s voice was quiet. She understood aliens but magic was new to her. She wanted to hate Wanda -- and a part of her did. Didn’t change how beautiful she looked dripping in scarlet and power. Turning towards Daisy, Monica nodded a few times before she remembered to speak. “Westview side effect. Looks like a lot is changing now.”

SAM: Carol was right. Wanda did have a lot to own up to, but they also had a lot to process and a lot of people to deal with. There was an arm extended in front of Carol. It wouldn’t stop her. It was purely a gesture. “It’s time for goodbye.” He said quietly, knowing what Vision meant. Besides, he was tired. They all were.

DAISY: Daisy blinked when she realized she was being spoken to. She turned her head to Monica and nodded. “Oh yeah, you went in before..” She could only imagine how having your entire reality rewritten and unwritten like that twice could effect your molecular anatomy. Daisy just knew that FitzSimmons would have a field day with trying to figure that out. “Still, that was super cool you know.”

TEDDY: Teddy Altman had been through a lot in the last couple of months, let alone the year. He’d lost his boyfriend twice—once to death, a second time to his scary mom. He’d been crowned the emperor of two empires that hated each other and was somehow expected to hold them together. His time on earth was limited most days, and while it made the frustration of not being able to get his boyfriend out of the hex — he was pretty floored to find out it was not only open, but the woman he’d been told about was involved. “Monica Rambeau?” Teddy said, approaching her. “My name’s Teddy. Can we talk?”

CAROL: Carol's eyes snapped to Sam, an incredulous furrow in her brow. "You've got to be fucking kidding me." she said on a breath but ultimately, she took a step back, actually turning around fully and away from Sam. "Good to know. I'll keep this in mind for the next villain we face."

CRYSTAL: Marry me instead. Crystalia’s mind was torn between the subtle swaying of rocking the baby and the processing of what had happened. Wanda would always be in her life, even if she wasn’t with Pietro. They were bound forever by blood and bone now. She was lost in touch - actual touch not being controlled by another - and the feeling of his lips against her own. “Marry you?” Of course she had thought about it. They had a child together and it was all but expected by an aristocratic family that worked on tradition. Crystalia had a child out of wedlock. Not only that but it was with a mutant who had a terrorist sister nonetheless. “Marry you.” The word was a sigh. She loved Pietro. She loved the family they had made. He wasn’t on one knee and they stood in the middle of a possessed town, but there was an odd romance to it. “Of course I’ll marry you.” Crystalia leaned up to kiss him. It was nice to have a choice this time. “I love you. All this craziness aside. I do.”

PIETRO: He wanted Crystalia and the baby out before he could think much of anything else. They had to be safe before he could get to Wanda and once he knew that Crys had Luna cradled to her chest, he’d picked her up and ran both of them back to Attilan in the Hudson. The entire ordeal had really only taken just minutes — mostly because he’d had to separate himself from them once again and convince his now fiancée to let him go speak to the same woman that had caused all of their pain. Even if that person was his sister—his twin, the same flesh and blood of his own—it still left its scars.

WANDA: They stared. Wanda sensed their indecision and, in some cases, their anger. Let them. It didn’t matter anymore. She knew what she had and what she had to lose. “A villain.” She repeated softly. There had been times in the past Carol had defended her. She hadn’t wanted Wanda left at the mercy of the mutants. But that was a different time before unforgivable transgressions. “Maybe, but it’s not that simple.” She had been villainous but that was over. This was the after. Taking Visions hand, Wanda nodded at Carol. “My husband is right. We have to focus on the boys. I’ll come back. I promise.” The last word was spoken quietly. She’d come back. Not Vision, not the boys. Just her. The twins had returned to town square, two children with expectant faces. Wanda would not let her last moments with her children be defending herself against Carol Danvers. Without waiting for permission, Wanda turned towards her home. “The barrier is falling. Westview is returning,” she called over her shoulder. “It will be right once more.”

MONICA: “Went in and got thrown out.” Monica confirmed. Carol was getting upset and she instantly tensed up to see if there would be conflict. When Sam intervened Monica exhaled. She was turning to respond to Daisy when she was approached from the other side. “Emperor Dorreck?” Of course she knew the Skrull leader. Space had always been a part of the Rambeau’s life. She excused herself to the side. “Yeah, of course. I’ll meet you as soon as we’re out of here.”

WANDA: It was the beginning of the end. No, not the beginning. The end had come five years before even though it felt like yesterday to a woman who hadn’t been around to live through it. The end had come the moment the Vision had died in Wakanda. His empty shell hitting the dirt heralded a new phase in her life and Wanda had tried her best to live in it. She socialized and tried to smile. Her tears were regulated to moments of privacy. Wanda had tried - she really had - but she couldn’t do it. She rewrote the story, added a chapter. There was no end then, only beginnings. Westview was real. Westview was hers. Westview had crumbled. People were flickering back to consciousness and red still sparked in the sky. It was her home that had never really been. A promise that had never been lived out. When the Vision had signed the deed and secured the land had he ever fathomed just how much Wanda would pervert it to keep it? The white android with his hands on her throat hadn’t remembered but Wanda always would. After months of games and manipulation she was quiet as she rested a hand on the twin’s backs. The elder version of the boys had long since departed. Not that she could blame them. They were all people for her to answer to but they had all the time in the world. The three souls who walked beside Wanda were pinned now into a finite box. She was going to lose them. They were never hers to lose. As Tommy and Billy obediently moved towards their house their mother took the hand of their father. It was silent except for their boots on the now cracked pavement and the quiet slapping of their capes. One day, there would be too much to unpack. Wanda felt a new thrumming in her chest and magic in her veins. The Scarlet Witch was more than just a name now, it was a point of being. She wore the mantle and the crown with a heavy head. The second their feet hit the threshold of the door the new costume faded away to more mundane clothing. A soft sweater, jeans. Some sneakers. Wanda felt stripped bare and the hardest part had yet to come. “Go get ready for bed, boys.” Her voice was hoarse as she tipped her head towards the stairs. When she looked back at Vision there was a plea in her eyes. The barrier was a soft static hush in the background as it inched closer. She couldn't do this. Not again.

VISION: They’d been moving at an immeasurable pace toward an end that he wasn’t entirely sure sealed much of anything at all. Time seemed slow and fast all at once, which led him to consider that it was merely a construct after all. A simple tool for humans to capture moments of life in numbered little bottles. Not that any of it mattered now — it did — but it could wait. If not for just for the moment: their moment. After all, that’s all life was, wasn’t it? A series of moments that molded bodies and souls all the same. Certainly Wanda and Vision had shared theirs. And while he spent most of their short time in Westview without the memories of their life prior to the Hex, he’d witnessed them within the precious past of a body that was never his to inhabit. And he felt that perhaps now, he understood her more than ever. He understood what they shared, but not what he was. He had all of this history that he couldn’t claim, children, a wife—love, yet once this world closed, this form of his being would cease along with it. What did that mean? What did it matter? Vision took her hand in his red palm and gently intertwined their fingers. They weren’t gone quite yet — he didn’t want her to mourn them before she’d truly lost them. He was determined to outshine the bitterness of what inched closer with the sweetness of what was still left. “Let’s say goodnight.” he said, and though his feet stayed on the ground, he felt himself floating up the stairs into their children’s room. For once he went to Tommy’s bed first, and sat at his feet. He watched Wanda with all the tenderness and normalcy that he could, hoping to leave her with something fond to remember them by. An ounce of reality in all the fiction.

WANDA: Goodnight and goodbye. It was with a bowed head and her heart in her throat that Wanda followed behind her husband up the familiar stairs to the boy’s room. The house hadn’t looked like that at first. It had expanded with her narrative to fit their new and extended family. Two boys at the top of the stairs, the heavy pounding of their footsteps heralding every new day. Her natural instinct would have been to move towards Tommy, but she settled instead by Billy. William, Vision had said. Billy, like Shakespeare. Wanda couldn’t say if she always planned to have twins. She knew Tommy the second he had started to grow in her stomach, but the joy in her husband's face had brought a new life to light inside of her. Smoothing back Billy’s hair, Wanda fumbled with unscripted words. “Snug as a bug. Big day today,” she patted the sheets around him. They were a family. This was the kind of evening that could have happened on any night but Wanda didn’t want to betray what she knew. They were kids. How could she tell them this was the story’s end? Looking to Vision, Wanda took a breath. “It was a big day. Your father and I are… very proud.” She exhaled. “But family is forever. We could never leave each other, even if we tried.” Had she not carried a part of Pietro around in her heart for years? He had always stayed near to her even as his bones turned to ash. “You know that, right?” As Tommy nodded and smiled across the room something inside Wanda fractured. She kissed Billy on the head before rising, trying to mentally document every scent and curl. They were hers even if they were never meant to be. Wanda would always be theirs. She and Vision met in the middle of the room, hands squeezing before she was kissing Tommy’s head. For all the messy parts of Wanda that there were, she had somehow managed to compile only the best of her and Vision into their children. This was her duty as a mother. Her tears were kept so far back she didn’t even have to blink them away as she playfully shook Tommy. Giving Vision his space to say goodbye, Wanda eventually drifted with lead coated feet towards the door. As she looked back the glow of the Hex began to coat the room. “--Boys?” Wanda tore her eyes away from their undoing and back to the boys in their bed. “Thank you for choosing me to be your mom.” Billy smiled, but Wanda knew he had some semblance of an idea even if he couldn’t read her mind specifically. The light flicked off and for a second it was so tempted to stop the Hex’s progression and create the blanket of the barrier again. The red haze was now tinting everything with its light and Wanda took one last look before closing the door on that chapter of her life.

VISION: He hated the idea of missing this, — the mundane nights spent in, tucking the boys to bed and retiring to themselves in front of the TV. He ached of not knowing what would come next for her and not being alongside her to share it. But most of all, he hated the idea of ceasing to be — even if he had no real claim to feel such a way. To have had so much, only to be greeted with a nothingness at the end of it...no promise of paradise, or rebirth. He supposed it was the most human thing he’d ever experienced. Vision let Wanda do most of the talking, trying his best to exist in the precious seconds that ticked by. He forced his gaze on his son rather than the claustrophobic barrier that rapidly closed in from the window. He ruffled Tommy’s hair and stood, forcing one food in front of the other. “Goodnight, Chaps.” prompted a resounding “Goodnight, Dad!” from the both of them and he held onto the warmth it blossomed in his artificial chest. They lingered in the doorway for as long as time would allow until eventually Vision found himself descending back downstairs, after his wife. He turned on a different lamp as she turned hers out, eager to see her face in the light rather than night vision. “Sorry. I read somewhere it’s bad luck to say goodbye in the dark.” He offered a soft smile at that.

WANDA: Over time, Wanda had forgotten how to process. She lost the ability to move through the stages of grief and had nestled into denial as easily as if it were her second skin. Wanda lost and she lost and she lost. She ached, and for what? A moment of reprieve? She had those before the waves crashed back in and she was lost once again in the surf. It was wrong what she had done. After being coaxed through her memories by Agatha she knew that. It was wrong, but it was also the only time she had felt any semblance of right in years. The barrier was cutting its way through the town. She could feel it even if it was out of sight. Grass would grow yellow and wood would grow soft from moisture and lack of upkeep. Westview would return to its bitter self that she had first stumbled upon. Her dream had been their nightmares. The shiny veneer of Westview Wanda had painted wasn’t real. Her hand hovered over a family portrait. No one would remember it being taken. It was just filler anyway, an object in a house to keep up the illusion. No, not a house. Their house, even if it wasn’t this Vision who had so lovingly procured it for her so they could have a home. He would have done the same, Wanda liked to think, as the Vision had. He didn’t know the scope of her tragedy but he loved her. He looked for ways to brighten her life. No sooner than her lamp had clicked off did the one she had already turned off bloom back into light. Wanda couldn't help but start before she turned to see Vision standing by the lamp. “No,” a smile somehow found its way to her lips despite the situation. “You didn’t.”

VISION: He mirrored the soft sadness in her smile with his own. “No…no” he trailed, having grown comfortable in their shared silences...or maybe he just wanted time to stretch longer. “Perhaps not...perhaps I just wanted to see you..clearly.” He gazed at her softly. “And there you are.” He murmured more to himself than anything. She’d always been so beautiful — in more ways than just the high slopes of her cheek bones and the delicate look in her eyes when she allowed herself to be vulnerable. It was difficult to imagine he’d never see that face again...never do anything again.

WANDA: No one had seen her clearly in years. Pietro always had a sharp gaze that could cut through her vague indecision, but without him he had been adrift. The Vision had seen her, too. She felt the Stone that powered him and he looked at her with clear eyes. Dumnezeu, she had loved him. Past, present, future. Wanda knew now that he’d always exist in her breastbone, right alongside the after effects of the Mind Stone. Two ghosts, both shadows of their former selves but spurring her further nonetheless. There you are. It was heartbreak and love all wrapped up as one and reflected in Wanda’s smile. But the Hex was collapsing. She wasn’t the only one who could tell and she gripped his hand by the window. It was too soon. It was five years overdue, and yet, it was too soon. When he turned to her she found a way to tear her gaze from the sight of Westview shifting and locked her eyes on the flickering face of her husband in the red light.

VISION: “Wanda…” Vision started, suddenly feeling their world grow so much smaller as it crashed around them. Hungry scarlet swirls of the red barrier ebbed slowly around them in wait, allowing him to finish. He cast it only the briefest of glances before his gaze returned to his wife. “Before I go,” He begun softly “— I feel I must know… I want to know.....what am I?” Even as he felt himself ask, he wondered maybe it wasn’t his place to — or that it was even a question she could answer, but still he had to at least try. Closure was, in his opinion, often rather loaded. People wanted it, but weren’t prepared for whatever shape it came in. They had expectations, hopes for the way things would end...and often the reality of it was painful. And while he struggled to know if he was ready for closure now, he supposed it didn’t matter. It was never really his story. So maybe what he was really asking now, was for his writer to fit him with an honorable ending — whatever shape it took. He trusted her with that, even if the rest of westview and the world didn’t.

WANDA: This was her fault. All her fault, like so many other things. To her, it had never mattered what he was. He was hers and she was his. It was that simple. Couldn’t two people just be in love? Maybe, but not them. It wasn’t simple and in their case it wasn’t pure with Wanda’s interference. She had made him as she remembered him, but Vision was more than a memory. The Vision had many intricacies and complexities that could never be replicated. She had done the best she could but still had left hollow holes in her husband. It wasn’t fair to the Vision or Vision. “You, Vision,” her hand moved to caress his cheek. People heard synthezoid and assumed his flesh would be cold like metal but it was warm and real under her palm. “Are the piece of the Mind Stone that lives in me. You are a body of wires and blood and bone that I created. You are my sadness and my hope. But mostly, you’re my love.” His hand had fallen over her own at some point and Wanda finally lost the battle with her tears. She loved, she loved and she lost. This time had to be different because she had to accept it. She had look at him in the near darkness and remember just how all encompassing it felt to love and be loved by him in the days that would stretch out when he was gone.

VISION: He grounded himself in the warmth of her palm against his cheek, comforted by the melody of her voice — even with a vastness awaiting him the moment her lips stopped moving. It didn’t matter, he took those precious seconds to kiss her with all the tenderness he found even the complexities of 6,500 human language could not express. “I’ve been a voice with no body...a body but not human...and now…” he met her sad eyes “A memory. Made real.” He wanted so badly to leave her with hope, desperate not to let her drown in her own grief. “Who knows what I might be next.” What we might be. The barrier was closing in now and with it he found himself suddenly feeling the loss of time as if it were a loss of breath — he gently pulled her to him, placing his hand on her cheek in a delicate cradle. “We’ve said goodbye before...so it stands to reason…”

WANDA: Their kiss was bittersweet. It was the first hello of two beings who finally saw each other as they were and the last goodbye between tragic lovers. As a tear tracked down his cheek, Wanda caught it with her thumb. The moisture on her finger pad was real. Androids could cry. Perhaps not all, but hers was special. Vision had always been special and that would never change. To her it would be impossible for him to be reduced to just a memory. She would see him out of the corner of her eyes in the hall or hear a rustling and expect to see him phase through the wall. Scents would escape the kitchen and she would wonder for a second if it was him attempting a dish just because it would make her smile. Wanda had seen sides of the Vision no one else had. She had seen goofy and soft. He was the full spectrum of being, and his quiet steady nature even in the face of oblivion made her cry. She had never deserved him. Not really, at least. He was worthy to hold the hammer of Thor and Wanda -- she broke things, she threw fits and hurt people. From the moment she had sensed him in dreaming under Ultron’s watchful eye in the Cradle she had been doomed. Wanda felt love in her life but she never managed to hold onto it. It was a stream and the water always flowed right past her before her thirst was quenched. Vision was a memory made real, sure. But in Wanda’s mind he would always be real. We’ve said goodbye before, so it stands to reason... Wanda clutched either side of his head as her eyes frantically traced the lines of his face so she could memorize every one. “...That we’ll say hello again.” She was nodding quickly as the red raced through the town and finally made contact. The house began to fluctuate through all the variations that Wanda had forced upon it. The reality began to unwrite herself right in front of her eyes, but she was going to hold onto her husband until she couldn’t anymore.

VISION: The barrier came for them rapidly, then, and all he felt was her. Her hands on his face, her being somehow tethered to his as his body began to come apart much more gently than before. It wasn’t a ceasing to exist, merely a return home — a return to where he’d existed from the beginning: within her. It wasn’t painful, and it wasn’t something to fear anymore. So many more things he wished to say to her, seconds he’d ask for if they could. But they were out of time. “So long, my darling.” Until, hello.

WANDA: It didn’t end with a bang. It ended with a soft smile and the echo of a voice before its owner ceased to be. She felt him slowly fade out of her grasp until she was left clutching nothing but the air. The house -- their house -- had reverted back to a foundation that would never be built upon. Wanda wouldn’t sell but she could never live there either. Her happiness had lived and died within those fallen walls. Her heart was splintering in her chest. Clothed once more in the outfit she had worn when she arrived in Westview, Wanda slipped her hood up over her hair and ignored her car as she began her funeral procession of one back to town square. A promise was a promise, but Agatha’s words were heavy in her heart. There would always be pitchforks or women like them. Stepping into view, Wanda kept her head held high. “It’s over.”

SAM: His lips flattened into a tight line. “Jesus, Carol.” So much for a happy reunion. “Wanda fucked up -- bad. But she’s going to say goodbye to kids. Her kids. Give her ten.” He believed she’d come back, and she did. Defeated but present.

LORNA: Her sister had just turned and left with the family she had made. Lorna had a sinking feeling that Wanda would be the only one she saw again. “What can I say?” the words felt flat in her mouth. “I like to feel desired.” She turned to look at Remy then. He looked the same, if not ragged. It was hard to tell. Lorna felt like someone else all together -- which was fair, situation depending. “They let you in here?”

CAROL: Carol shot Sam a look, one that was one part confused and one part angry. She knew she struggled with the grey area, but rarely did her and Sam grate so blatantly. "That in comparison to torturing people for months. Sure." She was tired of the passes, but she'd relented and thrown her hands up. Once Wanda came back in to view, Carol didn't even make a move to approach her. Like Sam, Carol was tired too, but for an entirely different reason. "You did the right thing." She said, though there was no sense of sympathy in her tone. "The people of Westview are being extensively checked for neurological damage or magical after effects. They'll be lucky if they don't suffer from PTSD after this." she knew she wasn't making any friends here. Carol didn't care. But still, she shifted slightly so her body was turned towards Monica. "This is your case, Rambeau. By all means,"

REMY: "You know I have a habit of getting in even when I don't belong." He said passively. He was looking at her, but not really. He was exhausted, the feeling dragging him down over the past few weeks Lorna had been in here. He truly was spending most of their relationship losing her and it stung a little more every time. Still, "Are you okay?" it was a question said off to the side, because there was no way that conversation could happen now. He just had to ask.

WANDA: Two women forged by Infinity Stones. Carol and Wanda were powerful but in different ways. “They suffered.” She replied simply. “Extensively. And I’m sorry. I never meant to make my pain theirs as well.” That, at least, was true. It had not been her original intention but she had perpetuated willingly later on. “You’re not arresting me. But I’ll go with you willingly, Captain Rambeau. I owe you that much.”

MONICA: “Me?” Monica arched a brow. “Yeah, I’d say that’s fair.” Wanda had thrown her from town and caused Monica’s cells to metastasize. She had also used her powers to throw her around another time. Monica had felt Wanda’s pain first hand and was left with a detached pity. “Wanda Maximoff,” she began the formalities. “I’m Captain Monica Rambeau. I am officially bringing you into holding under the authority of S.W.O.R.D. I am not required to read you your rights as you register as a threat to the Sentient Weapon Observation and Response Division and will be treated as such. Do you understand?”

LORNA: Normally she’d launch flirtatious barbs back with him, but Lorna just gestured around slowly. “Not really a desirable place to be. At his question her brow furrowed. “No. Not really, but I will be.” Insanity did run in the family. “I need to find my Father. We need to go to Krakoa.”

REMY: "Why do you think we're here?" he asked, though there wasn't much room for answering. "There's no reason we should stay now. There's a gate close by." it was a suggestion for them to leave now, to turn away from Lorna's sister being taken in by SWORD.

LORNA: “Maybe you’re a fan of the show,” her tone was sardonic at best. No reason to stay. No reason to watch Wanda hauled off. The two sisters had ever been closed but it rattled Lorna more than she wanted to admit. Her family didn’t handle grief. No member of the Monarchy of M seemed to be sane. They threw tantrums and raged. Would she have done the same as Wanda? Maybe, if Lorna loved anyone that much. Far more agreeable than usual, Lorna turned away from Wanda in the square.

WANDA: “I understand.” Wanda nodded. She could never give the citizen of Westview the last two months back but she could at least own up to her own shortcomings -- of which there were a multitude. As Wanda took a step towards Monica her clothing rippled. Magic was always present. If she was going to leave Westview it was with a shrivel of her dignity intact. The hood of her jacket had redesigned itself into a cloak, red fabric falling over bare shoulders. There would be time later to address Agatha and wrap up that plot line. “And I’m ready.”

PIETRO: Pietro arrived in time to see S.W.O.R.D. and F.B.I. swarming the area like bees in a frenzy. A boom snapped through the air as he slammed to a halt, feet ripping up chunks of pavement — Christ, he had to get better at that. Fixing his sleeve, Pietro stood up straight and rolled his shoulders some, shoving his snowy hair out of his face. “I’m gone five minutes and you already want to get yourself arrested.” he said, walking around from behind her. He cast a glance to the others — Monica, Carol, Sam — scattered agents all braced for anything. “Just like old times, ah?” They had a lot to talk about — but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t happy to see her. She had to have known it was coming even though he didn’t ask, he just lifted her off the ground and shot off with a sonic boom, leaving nothing but a breeze and a standstill in their wake as he put over a hundred miles between them and Westview in two seconds flat.

DAISY: Daisy was waiting patiently in the back for the potential of Wanda running off, although she wasn’t quite sure any of them besides Carol were prepared to be able to stop that sort of escape. Even if she did feel for Wanda’s situation, there were rules they had to follow. And rules she swore to uphold when she became an agent. She blinked in surprise when she saw Pietro run up, surprised at how fast he was. She knew he was a speedster from the files she’d read, but it was an entirely different thing to see it in person. And then before anyone could even say anything, there was a loud boom and just wind blowing by them and both Wanda and Pietro vanished into thin air. After a few beats of stunned silence, Daisy let out a sigh and shook her head. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Now S.W.O.R.D was going to have to look for both of the Maximoff twins after this whole mess. It was definitely a frustrating ending after being so close to getting Wanda to willingly come talk with them, and Daisy could feel a nagging irritation prickling under her skin as she shook her head. “I’m going to go help with those extractions.” She stated to Carol and Monica before turning and walking off back towards the direction of the base.

WANDA: This was the last thing she needed. Denial, anger, bargaining and now, after a painful breakthrough: acceptance. Wanda wasn’t resigned but renewed. They were mad and could have their moment. The energy from Darkhold whispered in her ear even though it was out of sight. Wanda was ready to face the stake they would inevitably try to force her to burn on, but then someone was making quips. The reverent air of a battleground that hadn’t completely found an ending was charged with a boom that rattled her teeth. Five minutes? It was five years and then some. Her eyes drifted closed. Wanda’s Westview was gone and her constructs with it. Everything left was real, but was he? This was a question she had turned over in her mind again and again. Acceptance. He was hers. He always had been. Agatha had laughed that he couldn’t be returned because his body had been left broken and isolated on foreign soil. Wrong and wrong. Vision and the boys had been tied to the town. It anchored their reality. Pietro was the exception. His accidental resurrection was tied to the one who had been half of his being. Pietro existed as Wanda did, their connection once again rekindled even though it was tainted red. There had been no reunion yet. Their interactions were tense and filled with a one sided disgust. Wanda had clung to an illusion because she was terrified of the fact that there was one thing she couldn’t replicate. This was real but Wanda did not deserve it. Not after what she had done. As her eyes fluttered open, Wanda’s lips parted. She was going to tell Carol it changed nothing, even though everything was different. She was culpable still. Instead her feet were pulled out from underneath her in the same disorienting blur that had once been familiar. Hair whipping around her face, Wanda’s hood had fallen off by the time he skidded to a stop. Blue and silver streaked the air behind him. The only thing new was the scarlet that threaded through the afterimage, the trail of magic that was still fresh on its mistress. The ground crunched underneath the wedged heels of her boots once contact was made. There was a cold wind but the heat of her magic still flushed her cheeks. “Pietro?” The word fell from her lips and hung in the air between them. Where did she start? You’re back? I’m sorry? I need to go face my fate? Wanda just stood there and stood for a long moment. It didn’t matter that she was the Scarlet Witch, chaos bound in flesh. It didn’t matter how powerful she was. Right then she was ten years old and flat on her stomach as the Stark missile ticked away. She hadn’t known then it was her power stopping it from going off as probability twisted. Pietro was the one keeping them safe as he held her close. She had always assumed it would be him who filled that role but now she had years of experience and tragedy that had affixed itself to her being and turned her into the woman she had become. But that was for later. She could be strong and suffer in a silent dignity later. Right then she was closing the space between them until her arms were wrapped tightly around his chest and her head pressed over the spot where his heart beat a little too quickly. “Îmi pare rău, frate. Îmi pare așa, atât de rău. ( I'm sorry, brother. I'm so, so sorry. ) If Wanda kept her head down she wouldn’t have to look at his eyes and see if disdain still lived there. “I lost you.”

PIETRO: He’d thought about what he might say to her if she ever did finally speak to him again — without all the facade of Westview to deafen her ears from everything he said. He wondered if he’d hold on to his anger—but it had morphed. Mutating into a hurt he didn’t know how to place. That he could. He knew it wasn’t intentional, but that was the sad part...it...it didn’t matter. Crystalia didn’t want Wanda anywhere near their daughter and while he understood her reasons, that didn’t make the cut any shallower. He shared everything with her, as a being he very much considered an extension of hims own, it was difficult not to bring her into the life of his child. And so he was crossed between the boy that would sever his own limbs just to quell the quiver of Wanda’s lip, and the man that wanted to stand by his soon to be wife. Maybe he fueled that into the mad dash he did away from Westview, because he didn’t even realize how far he’d gone until he started to smell salt. It was different to run so long with her, but she’d always been a light load. Pietro finally stopped when he hit the west coastline—kicking up an array of sand as he slid with her. It was one of his more graceful stops, but that wasn’t saying much. He set her on her feet and for once kept his mouth shut, waiting for her to say—literally anything. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but as she fell into him he felt his world tip a little, back into place. His hands gently smoothed the curls of her unnaturally strawberry red hair and he wrapped both arms around her. “nN pentru totdeauna” not forever, he said. In the most predictable way, his anger melted away, but it did leave welts in the wake of its fire. Dor the first time in their lives he didn’t know where her head was at—and he’d never needed telepathy to do that. And though he could never hate her, and he could never want her out of his life, he didn’t know where that left them. And he silently dreaded the problems having wanda in their lives would inevitably cause with the mother of his child.

WANDA: She lost him, but she had found him. Wanda couldn’t put into words how much that meant. “And now I have so much to tell you but it’s not the time. I have to go back, Pietro. I need to face what I’ve done.” It was the right thing to do, after all. Wanda owed the people she hurt and had given Monica her word. Flicking her hood back on so it cast a shadow over his face, she leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Goodbye, frate. We’ll be together again soon.”

MONICA: There was no reason for handcuffs when the woman they would shackle was a literal witch who could apparently teleport when she was in the mood to. Monica was immensely grateful for Wanda’s cooperation and had her own opinions on the matter. Wanda had been wrong. Her actions were more than just hurtful, they were dangerous. Monica knew that just as well as she knew that if she had been in Wanda’s shoes with her powers she would have done the same. It didn’t make her actions excusable or meant that Monica forgave her. She just had a throbbing sense of balanced justice instilled in her by her mother. Wanda would face the jury and it consistent of more than just Monica. But then, Pietro. Shit. He had been a little bit of a wild card ever since Wanda yeeted his kid and girlfriend (?) into the Hex. Now he was in a place to potentially cause an escalation with Wanda -- who had just returned and was compliant. “Maximoff,” Monica took a step forward and found herself blinking away grit that Quicksilver’s feet had kicked up. He was gone and Wanda had vanished with him. “Jesus.” Monica resisted the urge to turn and smack the solid army truck behind her. She could survive being shot but something told her that all she’d accomplish was becoming the owner of a broken hand. Nodding at Daisy, Monica made no move to follow her. Instead she turned to Carol, who had proven herself to be a powder keg consistently in danger of exploding. Had she always been like that? Monica couldn’t remember but childhood memories were faulty. They were blurred fact with fiction. Sam, at least, looked more stoic with his arms crossed over his chest. “--she’s coming back.” Monica pursed her lips. “Wanda was ready to go in, she was listening.”

REMY: "Haven't bothered to watch." His tone remained level as they started for the break in the wall. He had come prepared for a fight, but he was leaving with none, and he could feel the dissatisfaction even if he'd ultimately won in the end. It had been a tough few weeks and all his sitting had caught him in a loop with no outlet. "Your sister will be fine." He offered as the neared the edge. "We know people who have done far worse and are sitting on our country's council."

CAROL: Carol stared at the spot where Wanda had disappeared for too long, her eyes boring into the gravel of a city that had returned to its poorly maintained state. Though her features remained neutral, the tension in her shoulders was immense and all she wanted to do was strangle not one, but two Maximoff’s now. Forcing out a breath, Carol completely missed Daisy's comment and instead turned towards Monica. "I know." she acquiesced. "And yet here we are." Standing in the center of a town that had been pulled through the decades by magic, its citizens mind controlled and tortured, and the only person to blame was gone. "Maybe we should coordinate with Krakoa." she looked towards Sam, but it was nothing more than a passing glance. There was a lot to unpack there, but their personal lives could never cross into their professional. "As much as I'd love to argue with Frost that, although Wanda is a citizen a Krakoa and therefore untouchable, her mass mind manipulation of US citizens stands to reason she needs to face a trial. It's not a witch hunt," she said pointedly. "But Pietro did just implicate himself in this mess."

SAM: Maybe. Sam shifted before straightening up. “Last I heard, Wanda was pretty estranged. If we talk to anyone, it’s Magneto.” It was unlikely that the Master of Magnetism was going to be biased because it was his daughter. “But outside of Krakoa, Wanda isn’t a U.S. citizen either. There’s not a home country we can send her to for trial anymore.” That made her their problem. It was a little less messy internationally. “The guy was dead up until two months ago and hasn’t gotten to actually talk to her since. Guess we should have seen that coming.”

LORNA: What, could he not be bothered to tune into the home torture network to at least see that she was alive? Lorna just snorted, Westview now fading into the background. “Good for you. Hope Wanda gave me a new liver when she rewrote reality because all I’ve done recently is get wasted and make out with would be frat guys.” Which had never been her type. “Wanda is Wanda. She makes big messes and everyone finds a way to forgive her. She lays low and then the cycle repeats.” Not that Lorna could take another Decimation. The glow of the emergency gate that the mutants had situated by the barrier emitted a soft glow. “Like my father.”

REMY: Remy had avoided the broadcast because he hadn't been privy to watch, even if he knew he wouldn't have bothered given the chance. It was...a complicated mess of feeling, and he was still sorting through it. Lorna's words didn't help, but he didn't comment on them. He wanted out of Westview, he wanted to be back on Krakoa. They emerged together through the breach and he led her to where the mutants emerged originally - the closest gate back to Krakoa. "We can talk more once we're back." He wanted out of here. Away from the mess Wanda had formed. If he could, he would've rather pretend it never happened.

CAROL: "Guess we should've." Carol muttered, eyes flitting up to the sky and then back down again. "We can send a team in to do a clean sweep, gather up any evidence we may need. Otherwise, I think we need to get started on the citizens. Make sure everyone is okay." It wasn't necessarily their job to aid at this point, but Carol felt separated from victory, and she needed to do something. "Monica can make a call, I'm sure."

MONICA: She was not about to be in the middle of a lovers quarrel. It felt like she had been in her S.W.O.R.D. sweater and training pants for days. Her skin was sticky with sweat and the adrenaline had begun to wear off. Carol, Sam and Monica were some of the last remaining, three Captains who covered the spectrum in how angry they were. “Sam,” she turned towards Wilson. “We need a trauma evaluation. They’re not letting us do anything until after that.” It was just standard protocol. They’d need to find Wanda and the White Vision who had smashed through the town before vanishing. Agatha Harkness was still weak on the ground, stuck in stasis. They couldn’t restrain her. They needed Wanda and her fancy magic shapes for that. And, S.W.O.R.D. needed a director. It wouldn’t be Monica. She didn’t want it. That had been Maria’s job and her daughter didn’t want to squeeze into her shoes. She had always preferred walking beside her too much. It would be Abigail she talked to after Brand finished her counseling as well. S.W.O.R.D. would heal. Maria would never be back but her legacy would persevere. “We’re going to find Maximoff.” Monica sent a look to Carol as she began to take a few steps back. “She promised, and I’m big on holding people to their word.” She’d make her call. She’d do what she needed to, and at some point Monica would sleep. Westview was free. They were free. Why didn’t it feel like it?

#event: maximoff anomaly #maximoff anomaly: finale #momevents

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cptn-stvngrntrgrs · 5 years

Text

[fic] that’s my wife!!!

Relationship: Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanoff

Title: that’s my wife!!!

Summary:

Detectives Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff are rumored to be dating despite being married to different people. Well, at least they got the married part right. Wanda really should’ve asked first.

aka the b99 au no one asked for.

for @scarlettjuicehansson, thank you for sending this prompt! i really enjoyed writing this and i hope you like it! i’m so sorry this took so long ;-;

The detectives’ floor of the 72nd precinct was buzzing with activity as usual. However, instead of getting actual work done, the detectives were merely entertaining themselves with anything but work.

Instead of its usual place in the middle, the desks were pushed to the side to make room for a bucket. A few of the detectives were sitting on their desk chair a good 20 feet away from the bucket, next to a bin full of crumpled paper. The game they settled on for today is fondly called “trash basketball”. The participants were to shoot papers crumpled into a ball into the trash as much as they could in a span of two minutes.

So far, the competition was a tie between Detectives Tony Stark and Scott Lang, who both managed to land 12 into the bucket.

“Now get ready for your minds to be blown,” Detective Sam Wilson challenged, rolling his chair to the spot Tony just moved away from. Tony and Scott moved to the sidelines, smug grins all over their face, as the timer for Sam’s turn to start rang out.

Detective Natasha Romanoff let out a sigh and rolled her eyes, shifting her weight from one leg to another as she stood on the other side of the commotion. She doesn’t mind the fun things they do, she really doesn’t, but their boss will be back soon and they should really get started on work.

She heard a laugh beside her and turned to look at Wanda Maximoff, the secretary of their boss, looking at her. “Don’t give them that look. You know they’ll only make it longer if they notice you’re getting impatient.”

Natasha huffed a breath of air out, letting her lips curl into a smile after. “I just have a feeling that this is going to take them a while.”

She felt someone stand beside her and smiled at Sergeant Maria Hill as she faced the game in front of them. “I can tell them to stop, if you want. Knowing Tony, though, it won’t be pretty," she said with a chuckle.

Natasha and Wanda joined in on the laughter, both shaking their heads as they continue to watch the game. Although things like this are the norm in their precinct, admittedly, it is still very much an inappropriate waste of time. However, they were lucky to have a very understanding boss who lets them get away with this sort of things.

A couple of minutes later, just as Scott was chanting something along the lines of rematch, the elevator dinged and out came Captain James Rhodes and another man next to him. Captain Rhodes, called Rhodey by everyone, stopped and stood behind the bucket and cleared his throat.

“Fun morning?” he asked, his voice serious. His eyes, however, betrayed his tone, as everyone can see the teasing glint and look he threw his officers.

“The best. We’re sorry you missed it,” Tony shot back, winking at him. The two have been friends since joining the force together all those years ago - meeting at the academy.

Rolling his eyes fondly, Rhodey held a hand up. “I have an announcement to make. As you all know, we had to rearrange our staff when Detective Daisy Johnson asked to be moved to another department,” Rhodey nodded at the empty desk. “Her replacement is Detective Steve Rogers, who came from the 88th precinct. Please make him feel welcome and at home,” Rhodey eyed everyone pointedly, clapping a hand on Steve’s shoulder, indicating for him to say something.

Steve gave everyone a warm smile and stepped forward. “As Captain Rhodes said, my name is Steve Rogers and I’m really excited to be working with all of you from now on. I look forward to getting to know everyone!” He bowed his head slightly as he took a step back again and looked at their captain.

Rhodey just shrugged and dismissed everyone, walking back to his office. Steve followed along for his briefing while everyone cleaned up the floor.

“He’s so hot,” Natasha heard Wanda fawn and watch the girl stare at Steve through the blinds of Rhodey’s office. Wanda looked back at Natasha, who just gave her a shrug.

“How’s your day going so far?” Natasha asked as she approached Steve who was eating his lunch in the breakroom.

Steve smiled. “I didn’t get as much work done as I usually should have in the same timespan, but it was actually pretty great.”

Natasha snorted and finished chewing her sandwich before answering. “Stark bothering you?”

Steve shook his head, pondering over the question. “Not bothering, per se. I think he’s just an energetic man. Scott too.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

“Definitely better than the old guys at the 88th though,” Steve assured her. Natasha chuckled.

“Of course we’re better! I’m surprised the city still haven’t forced half of those guys to retire already,” she joked. A comfortable silence fell upon them as they continued eating their respective food before someone approached them.

“Hi Steve! Welcome to our precinct! I’m Wanda, Rhodey’s secretary,” the girl extended a hand and Steve stood up to shake it. “Oh, what a gentleman,” Wanda gushed, shaking his hand a bit too long before taking a seat next to Natasha, who eyed her weirdly.

Steve sat back down as Wanda did. “Rhodey has told me about you! It’s nice to meet you.”

Wanda chuckled, nodding. “Likewise. So Steve, how are you liking it here so far?”

Having neatly putting his lunch away, Steve leaned back on the chair before answering. “I really like it here. I think this is one of the most fun days I’ve had in the office,” he confessed.

“Really? Nothing much really happened today, though. You should’ve been here when Natasha and Scott arrested a bunch of guys selling fake drugs. The ones who complained were so mad -” she cut herself off, giggling and shaking her head. “You should’ve seen it. It was a complete circus…” she trailed off, a happy glint in her eyes.

Steve chuckled. “Well, I have a feeling I’m going to enjoy my time here a lot,” he teased, winking at Natasha before standing up. “Wanda, I’m sorry to have cut our introductions short, but my break’s over and I have to go.”

Wanda pouted playfully. “Til’ next time I guess.” She smiled and waved at him as he went around the table and out of the break room. Once he was out of sight, Wanda breathed out a sigh and slumped in her chair. “My statement still stands - he’s so hot.”

Natasha laughed in acknowledgement and took another bite of her sandwich, pulling out her phone to look through it.

“Such a shame though, he’s wearing a ring - I think he’s married,” Wanda continued, a dreamy look on her face. Natasha hummed in agreement, used to Wanda’s fawning over the detectives. She almost cried when Sergeant Thor Odinson moved to Special Crimes; her favorite eye candy slash human puppy slash office sweetheart being gone. It seems that she’s moved on to Steve to fill those roles.

Two months into the working at the precinct, Steve found his transfer to the 72nd to be superb move. First of all, he gets to be with Natasha for a huge part of their day - and although they’re not really the type of couple who’s into PDA nor are they partners on the job, he enjoys seeing her when they’re both in the office. It also helps that they carpool every morning, though he does miss taking his bike.

The people he works with are also very warm, welcoming, and fun. Tony, Scott, and Sam took it upon themselves to brighten up the precinct everyday. He knows not to mistake their fun nature, though - he’s worked with them as a team, and boy, are those three brilliant detectives! Natasha and Hill’s duo, Steve assumed, is the most productive in the precinct. They’re focused most of the time, and keeps the boys in check. But of course, they let their fun side out once in a while to join in on the fun.

Steve took the morning off to go to the dentist and arrived at the precinct at lunch. He brought Chinese food for Natasha, knowing it’s her favorite. He dropped it off at her desk and she gave him a tired smile, only then glancing at the clock and noticing that it was past 12.

“You haven’t eaten yet?” Steve asked, nodding at the pile of papers in front of her.

She shook her head and leaned back in her chair, looking up at him. “Nahhh, I haven’t got the time. I need to finish these to give to Rhodey by the end of the day.”

“Come on, I’ll sit with you while you eat your lunch. Take a small break then just come back for the rest,” he encouraged, holding out a hand. She smiled, rolling her eyes, and took it, walking to the break room. Steve smiled at Tony and Scott who were sitting at their desks and waving at him, briefly glancing at down at Natasha’s hand in his.

Steve sat with her as she ate, neither of them in a rush to go back to work. Sam is still out from his stakeout that started that morning and hasn’t returned yet, so he doubted that he’ll be on a case with his partner gone. “I’ll help you with some of your paperwork, if you want. Sam’s not here yet.”

Natasha thought about it while chewing her food before nodding. “Hill’s supposed to help, but she and Rhodey has been on some meeting the whole morning, I’m not sure what time they’ll be back.”

Steve nodded along and ate some of the shrimp Natasha fed him, listening to her talk about filing the paperwork for a meticulously long case that she and Maria just solved.

“Oh, I didn’t see you guys there,” Wanda’s voice rang out, in a tone that meant that she definitely saw them in the break room. She was standing in front of the vending machine, but looking at them.

“Hi Wanda! Rhodey back yet?” Steve asked nicely, smiling at her as Natasha continued eating her food. Wanda shook her head and looked at her watch.

“He should be back soon, though. Do you need him for anything?” she tilted her head and took a step towards the vending machine, glancing at it while waiting for Steve to answer.

“No, not really. Just wondering,” Steve replied and Wanda hummed, choosing to get M&Ms and paying for it.

“If you do, just let me know!” Wanda smiled sweetly at them before walking out of the room.

Steve and Natasha stayed in the break room while waiting for their partners; neither really in the mood to work just yet. Natasha was feeding Steve shrimp and laughing when he’s moving around, making her chase him, when someone cleared their throat. Steve promptly ate the piece Natasha was hovering over his lips as Natasha cocked an eyebrow at the person at the door.

Maria Hill was standing there with a smirk, arms crossed over her chest. “Oh, you’re back. Give me a second and I’ll be with you; we’ll just clean up here,” Natasha told her, smiling.

“You go ahead, I’ll take care of this,” Steve said. Natasha tilted her head at him, about to protest, when he shook his head. “It’s okay, really. Sam’s not here yet anyway.”

Natasha shot him a grateful look as she stood up and joined Hill, who’s still standing at the doorway, an unreadable look on her face. “What is it?” Natasha whispered as they made their way back to their desks.

Hill just shrugged, looking down at the files on her desk. “Nothing,” she replied, her tone teasing. Natasha rolled her eyes fondly and took a seat at her desk, both of them starting on their work.

Steve was loading the precinct’s van with equipment that is needed for his week-long stakeout with Sam. He’s been getting along very well with Sam after working with him for a while now. This stakeout requires that they stay in their hotel room the whole day for a week, and both of them prepared for this with tons of video games and movies since they’re not allowed to bring phones or contact to the outside world unless it’s for an emergency. The criminal they’re tracking down is known as a paranoid, and the last thing they want is to be ambushed after showing up on some kind of radar.

“It’s kind of a bonding experience, really,” Steve told Natasha the night before, which got him a snort in return.

“I bet by the end of the week, you guys will be ready to rip each other’s throats out,” she teased, making Steve roll his eyes.

“I’ll miss you,” Steve said softly after a few minutes of silence as they watch TV. Natasha turned to him, a sad smile on her face, and cuddled close to him until she fell asleep. Steve secretly likes it when she falls asleep on him on the couch because that means he gets to carry her - bridal style - back to their bed.

Steve slammed the doors of the van shut and just stood there, panting. “I’ll miss you too,” he heard Natasha whisper behind him, making him turn around to see her. She was hugging herself with her arms, a small smile playing on her lips.

He stepped closer to her and took her in his arms and felt her wrap her arms around his waist and her falling on his chest. “I’ll be back before you know it,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head. This would be the first time either of them would be away on an assignment for this long, and although she hates to admit it, Natasha is feeling a bit anxious about it. The criminals they’re trying to catch has been on their radar for so long but kept managing to escape, making them dangerous.

Natasha hummed and pulled back, standing on her tiptoes to peck Steve’s lips before stepping away. “Just… be careful, okay?”

Steve chuckled and stepped closer to her to kiss her one more time. “Always, babe.” He gave her a wink, making her smile and roll her eyes as she turned around to go inside the precinct, nodding at Sam as they passed by each other.

“What’s up with Romanoff?” Sam asked as he approached Steve.

“She’ll just miss me, is all,” Steve laughed, getting into the driver’s seat as Sam went in the passenger’s side. Sam narrowed his eyes at Steve, who returned his look with confusion.

—

“Psst, Natasha,” a voice called as Natasha was walking to her desk. She frowned, looking around for the source of the voice. Truth be told, she’s tired. Steve has been away for four nights already and she’s been getting more and more restless each night without him. She saw the door to the evidence room to be ajar and decided to check it out.

When she got in front of the door, her arm was yanked in by Wanda, who shut the door immediately once she’s inside.

“What the hell, Wanda!” She whisper-yelled. She loves Wanda, she really does, but she’s just not in the mood for her antics right now. She leaned down on the wall opposite the other girl, crossing her arms across her chest.

“I’m only telling you this because I love you, so don’t be mad okay?” Wanda said in a low voice. Natasha stared at her, trying to decipher what she’s going to say, before nodding. “I think you should stop seeing Steve.”

Natasha stood up straight, frowning. “Wanda, I’m-”

“He’s married, Nat!” Wanda cut her off, eyes wide. “We don’t know to who, though. Rumor has it that Steve doesn’t bring her here because, well. She’s either ugly or she’s a bitch, maybe both,” Wanda shrugged nonchalantly, chuckling.

Natasha’s mouth fell open. What have they been talking about in the precinct?! And where have they been getting this from? Who in the world started the rumor that Steve’s wife - her - is ugly? And a bitch!

“Wanda,” Natasha said slowly, trying to recover from her shock. “Where did you hear this from?”

Wanda merely shrugged a shoulder. “People talk.” Natasha shot her an unamused look, making her sigh. “Okay, fine! Me and Fury’s secretary downstairs may or may have not looked him up on Facebook and we saw a photo of him with this blonde. It’s old, I think, because he looked younger. But that was his profile photo so we just assumed that he married her or something,” Wanda explained, looking down at her nails to hide the blush that spread on her cheeks.

Natasha pondered that for a minute. Steve doesn’t use Facebook anymore, not since he and Sharon broke up around 7 years ago. Huh. That photo is probably her with him then. Natasha can’t help but to let out a laugh - they really thought Steve is married to Sharon. And that she’s ugly and a bitch! Which aren’t true, of course. Steve and Sharon had a mutual breakup and occasionally, the four of them - with Sharon’s husband - would go to brunch together to catch up.

“And aren’t you married as well? To a cop, right?” Wanda piped up, as if she forgot about that information until that moment. Natasha didn’t answer, thinking about what to do. She could tell Wanda the truth, of course, or she could play with it. She doesn’t really talk about her personal life all that much - her coworkers mainly know about the basics. They know that she’s married - not to who, that she has a house - not where, and that she has a cat - who they probably know more about from the pictures she shows them.

Natasha didn’t really realize that her relationship with Steve is not public. Looking back to the couple of months Steve has transferred here, the two of them didn’t really bother announcing their status to the precinct; they just went on with their normal lives and routine. However , she really is curious as to what lengths her friends are willing to go to stop the two of them from dating. So she decided to play with it.

“Yeah, I am.” she admitted to Wanda, who threw her a disappointed look, shaking her head mildy. Natasha sighed dramatically, “Why did you even think that I’m dating Steve?”

Wanda rolled her eyes. “Everyone practically saw you two being all lovey-dovey the day he left, you know. Seriously, kissing in the open! What if both of your spouses see you! Tsk-tsk,” Wanda crossed her arms. “And do you really think we don’t notice how you two are always together? You guys aren’t even partners yet you spend a lot of time together here.”

Huh. Natasha didn’t even realize that last part. And she kinda feels bad by playing along - Wanda looks thoroughly distressed with their situation. “But Wanda, I love him,” Natasha confessed, biting her lip. “He just… makes me happy, you know? He completes me.”

Wanda sighed, striding across Natasha to put a hand across her shoulder. “That’s good and all, but I don’t know… maybe talk to him? It’s just, you guys are married to different people. I’ve been cheated on before and I hated that feeling. So please, do something about this, okay?”

Now, Natasha feels really bad. But alas, she’s already in too deep; might as well finish it.

Day six of Steve and Sam’s stakeout was surprisingly quiet. They’re both tired and anxious for the 24 hours left to finish so they could go home. So far, there has been no activity on the criminal they have under surveillance, so sadly, it looks like they have to complete the entire 7 days.

Steve sighed, lying on the bed after his shift of watching. Sam, who’s now perched next to the window with the binoculars, glanced at him. “I can’t wait to go home,” Steve groaned into his pillow.

“Mhm, must be nice. Going home to a loving wife and all,” Sam quipped.

“Yeah, I miss Nat,” Steve said with a dreamy look on his face, trying to imagine Nat’s reaction when he comes home tomorrow. Sam frowned at him, walking up from his spot to stand in front of Steve. Steve looked up at him. “Yes?”

“You know, Rogers, I never perceived you as someone who would cheat on your wife. How could you say that! You miss Natasha more than your own wife? Have you really no respect for her at all!?” Sam’s voice was low but he was seething. Steve gets to have someone to welcome him home - his wife - and he should be grateful! All that’s going to welcome Sam is a stack of unopened mail.

Steve opened his mouth to say something then closed it again. After pausing, he sat up straight, trying to stop himself from laughing. “Hold on, hold on. Are you saying that I’m cheating on my wife with Natasha?”

“What’s so funny, you bastard? Of course that’s what I’m saying! Unless you have more side-chicks we don’t know about!” Sam blew up. He’s getting crankier and crankier by the minute.

Steve tried to compose himself. Clearing his throat, he motioned for Sam to sit on the edge of the bed, and he did. “Sam,” he started, “I’m marriedto Natasha. Natasha is my wife.” Steve confessed, saying the words slowly so they could sink in. Sam stared at him, unable to form words.

“No way, she’s married too!” was all Sam could muster up. Steve rolled his eyes and grinned.

“Well, I better hope so because she’s my wife,” Steve teased.

Sam blinked at him. “For real? You’re not shitting me?”

“Sam, when have I lied to you, man? I told you - I don’t lie.”

“Oh, so you just hide the truth, then?” Sam retorted.

Steve thought about that for a moment. “I don’t think we hid the truth, per se. We’re not really big on PDA and obviously, office PDA is inappropriate. I don’t know why we never got around to telling people about us. Natasha’s very private, and even though she loves all of you guys, you’ve never been to our house, right?” Sam shook his head. “Yeah. Now that I think about it, I guess that was one big detail we didn’t get to announce when I transferred. We really just went on with our normal routine and I guess we just didn’t get to telling you guys about it,” Steve smiled.

“You think?” Sam replied, finally smiling. “If that’s the case, then I’m happy for you. You guys are so cute together.”

Steve laughed, patting Sam on the back. “Thanks, Sam. And for the record, I would never cheat on Natasha - god , no, I can’t even think about it - and I never did with my past relationships.” Sam nodded, feeling a whole new kind of respect for Steve - he knows he’s a man of his words and he felt bad for thinking so negatively about him in the first place. Well, can’t blame him - he didn’t know; and those two are so cute, what was he supposed to think about!

Thankfully, a couple hours after their little confrontation, the suspect showed up and a deal was about to go down. From what they learned over the past few days, this is the big transaction they were supposed to stop. They immediately called for backup and proceeded with the bust.

When the rest of the 72nd got there, they went on with the raid and successfully stopped the transaction. They got to confiscate a whole container van full of weapons ranging from guns to small bombs - smuggled by the man they were hunting for.

“Good job you two. Take the day off after this,” Rhodey said, walking past Steve and Sam and squeezing their shoulders. Steve and Sam patted each other on the back and chuckled. The six days and a half were rough - they had tense moments, but after it’s all over, they were good and ready for their day off.

Steve saw Natasha talking to Hill and Wanda, who for some reason, came with them. He walked away from Sam and went towards Natasha, hugging her from behind. He wrapped his arms around her waist and bent down to kiss her cheek before perching his chin on her shoulder. “I missed you,” he whispered to her ear.

Natasha giggled and tilted her head to the other side so she could peck his lips. “I missed you too,” she replied, threading her hands into his that were resting on her stomach.

The look of shock and confusion on Wanda’s face made their display of PDA so, so worth it. “Natasha, didn’t we already talk about this?” she gasped in horror. Always the drama queen, Wanda.

Steve raised an eyebrow at her. “What’s wrong with telling my wife that I missed her?”

Wanda stared between the two then at Hill, who’s very calmly watching with a smile on her face. Wanda waved a finger between Steve and Natasha. “You two are… married… to each other?”

“Wait, wait, wait, who’s married to who now?” Scott interrupted, joining the group with Tony and Sam trailing behind.

“Steve and Natasha! They’re married to each other!” Wanda exclaimed.

Tony looked taken aback. “Red’s married to him? I thought you said Steve’s wife looks like a bitch .”

“And ugly,” Scott added, much to Wanda’s chagrin.

“Natasha is neither of those things,” Tony concluded.

Steve straightened up but kept his hold on Natasha. “Who said that?” he asked. Everyone looked at Wanda.

Wanda looked like a doe caught in the headlights. “I swear, I didn’t know you’re married to Nat! I saw a girl on Facebook-”

“Oh, that’s probably Sharon! And hey, she’s nice and pretty! She’s an ex, but we’re cool now. That photo was years ago. I don’t even use Facebook anymore.” Steve chuckled. “Anyway, we’re sorry; we really should have informed you all sooner. We didn’t really think too much about making a big deal out of it. We really try to separate ourselves from each other when it comes to work because we have different systems and routines.”

Wanda slowly nodded. “Wait, but your last names-”

“Legally, my name is Natasha Romanoff-Rogers. I just go by Romanoff to make it easier for everyone.” Natasha answered with a shrug. “And Wanda? I’m sorry for lying to you.”

Wanda pouted for a moment. “It’s okay. It’s my fault that I gossip,” she threw a shy smile. “And I’m happy you guys are together, you’re really cute!”

“Alright, now that that is settled, we have to go back to the precinct. Come on, let’s go,” Hill spoke up after a minute of silence. They laughed and everyone made their way back to their cars.

“You can ride with me, I drove myself here,” Natasha told Steve. He still has his arm around her waist, with Natasha tucked to his side as they were walking.

“Okay, I’d love that,” Steve replied, leaning down to give her a kiss. Reaching into his pocket, he took out the key of the van and threw it to Sam. “You drive.”

Sam caught the keys and made a face. “Aw man. Now that we all know about them, they’re going to be all sweet now and I’m going to be the only single one left.”

Maria bumped Sam’s shoulder with her own. “You’re not the only one,” she whispered suggestively as she made her way to her car with Wanda.

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canyouevencauseicant · 5 years

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Who is she? (Peter Parker Imagine)

Writer’s note: Hey guys! This is my first Peter Parker imagine! Please let me know what you think, and feel free to request other imagines!!! I really loved writing for Peter, it was so fun!

Word count: 3.8k

‘What have you gotten yourself into, (Y/N)?’

The little voice inside your head kept nagging and nagging you about your decision to fight in Berlin. Against other Avengers, no less.

‘These are your allies. Your friends. Why did you say yes? How are you going to be able to fight them?’

No matter how much you tried, that little voice just wouldn’t seem to shut up. Maybe because you knew that, no matter how today went, there was absolutely no way it would end well. Friendships and alliances would be lost. Broken. Maybe forever.

‘Well, I guess it’s a bit late to go back on your decision now, (Y/N). Suck it up and fight.’

And that’s exactly what you had to do. So, as the rest of your teammates hung around, speaking to one another in the airport parking lot, you pulled on your suit, strapped on your holsters and belt, laced up your boots and slipped on your mask and hood. You had been taken in by S.H.I.E.L.D. when you were young and had risen through the ranks surprisingly quickly, besting many senior agents with much more experience than you. People were both awed by and envied you. You seemed to have a natural gift for being an agent; over the course of ten years, you had become an expert marksman, fighter, and strategist, which in itself was incredible for someone as young as you.

“You getting ready, oh, Angel of Death?”

Sam Wilson’s sarcastic question snapped you out of your inner monologue and caused you to look up surprisedly. “Angel of Death” had become your nickname during your time at S.H.I.E.L.D., which eventually carried on to be your nickname with the Avengers. Though, it surprised you that Sam, of all people, was the one calling you that. Usually, it was Tony who liked to jerk your chain using your less-than-friendly nickname. And given current circumstances, you didn’t really expect Tony’s antics to be tolerated, let alone used actively among team Captain America.

“Yeah, yeah, keep joking, you glorified chicken. We’ll see who’s laughing when I’m kicking ass out there and you’re getting your ass kicked,” You shot back, a slight smirk crossing over your lips (not that Sam could see it with your mask up) and a joking tone seeping into your retort. Sam exaggerated his look of shock and hurt before putting his hand over his heart, “You wound me, (Y/N).”

At this, you straight up laughed, which caused Sam to chuckle, too. You loved bantering with Sam and the two of you had always gotten along well. However, the tension that previously permeated the air quickly returned, and your laughter died out just as fast. You glanced over at the other members of your team and scanned their expressions; Clint was focusing on prepping his arrows and bow, Steve was in what looked like a deep conversation with Scott who looked equal parts confused and lost, Wanda looked slightly enerved but otherwise calm, and Bucky was standing aside silently. Suddenly, the same old feeling of being out of place arose inside of you, but you quickly pushed it back down and ignored it.

‘No, no, no. None of that, (Y/N). You’re one of the Avengers and one of the best agents S.H.I.E.L.D. has ever had. Nick Fury told you that himself. Get it together and kick some ass,’ The little voice in your head spoke up again. This time, it actually helped put you slightly at ease. Despite obviously being the youngest person there, you knew you could help. What scared you, though, was the fact that you knew that you could do some serious damage as well. And given that this damage might be inflicted on people you considered friends, you definitely still felt uneasy.

Almost as if she had read your mind, you saw Wanda look at you and offer you a comforting smile before walking over to you. “I know that look, (Y/N). You’re afraid,” Wanda spoke softly, simply stating her observations. You gave a half-smile before replying, “Well... maybe not afraid, but definitely nervous. I don’t want to sound cocky or snobbish, but I know I’m strong. I know that I’m a good fighter and I can do some serious damage. But never before have I ever had to use my skills against somebody I considered a friend or ally, let alone four of them at the same time. I don’t want to hurt anybody and honestly, I’m not even sure I’ll be able to do it when the time comes. Despite several years of training and going on missions, I still have difficulty controlling myself. Nick Fury himself said I have a gift for hitting it where it hurts and can overdo it sometimes.”

“Well... I’m not a fighter like you are, but believe me that I understand the feeling of not being able to control your powers and abilities. I went through that, too. I’m still going through it, even now,” Wanda gently placed a hand on your shoulder as she spoke, and somehow, you felt your worry dissipate slightly, “Just remember, (Y/N), you’re here to help your friends. And we’re all going through the same thing as you. Clint will have to fight Nat, I will have to fight Vision, we’re all going to have to fight each other. This is going to be one of the hardest things any of us have ever done. But we’re all in this together. As a team. Whatever happens after will happen, but for now, we must do everything we can to help Steve.”

When Wanda finished speaking, you realized that now, everybody else was watching the both of you, too. However, you ignored them and simply gave Wanda a hug before whispering, “Thank you, Wanda. That helps a lot.” Wanda squeezed you gently in return before pulling away from you. Then, suddenly, Steve came forward until he stood directly in front of you. You had to tilt your head back a fair amount, given that Steve was over a foot taller than you and otherwise, you couldn’t see his face.

“(Y/N), I know that I’ve asked the impossible of you, to be here and fight against people you consider friends, allies, even family. Especially somebody as young as you. These should be the formative years of your life. I’m sorry that I had to ask for your help, and I’m so grateful that you’re helping us all.” You watched Steve’s face as he spoke, and you could tell his words were genuine. After all, he was Captain America, the voice of reason and goodness himself. When Steve had finished his little speech, you just stepped forward and wrapped your arms around his torso, hugging him tightly.

“It’s okay, Steve. You just want to help a friend. I get it. You don’t need to apologize,” You mumbled into his shirt as Steve hugged you back tightly. While Sam was like a big brother to you, Steve was like your adopted dad. When you first joined the Avengers, he was the first one to welcome you and stuck by your side as you got to know everybody else and adjusted to your new situation. He made sure that you did your training, but also that you took care of yourself. He always had a soft spot for you, and he was always the first person you would talk to whenever you were unsure about something or just needed advice and support. Steve had always been there for you, so now, it was your turn to return the favour.

Steve let you go and turned to the others just as alarms suddenly went off, echoing across the entire airport parking lot. A voice came over the speaker, speaking quickly.

“They’re evacuating the airport,” Bucky said, looking over at Steve.

“Stark,” Sam muttered, to which Scott replied, “Stark?!”, looking startled by the revelation. Shifting into full Captain America hero mode, Steve simply nodded his head, looking more serious than you had seen him in a while, “Suit up.”

*TIME SKIP*

You were in position alongside the rest of your team, those who were backing Steve and Bucky, though Steve insisted that you stayed slightly behind. Almost like you were their secret weapon. You were watching from the sidelines, not yet revealed to Tony and his team as they confronted Steve. He had run out towards a helicopter, but it was quickly shut down by an electrical grenade from Iron Man himself. It had started by just being Iron Man and War Machine, but then suddenly the Black Panther leaped in and joined, followed by Nat. Steve was completely surrounded and you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end at the sight. You could feel your senses becoming heightened; you were going into fight mode.

You made to take a step forward but Scott’s voice quickly came over the comms to stop you, “(Y/N), no! Steve told us to stay put. Just hang on.” You knew you easily could’ve ignored Scott, but your better judgment knew to trust Steve. He knew what he was doing. Suddenly, you saw Tony cup his hands and bring them up to his lips before shouting “UNDEROOS!”

You barely had enough time to process the word before Steve’s shield was wrenched from his grip and his hands bound by some weird, white ropes that hadn’t been there even a moment ago. There was a blur of red and blue and you watched as a figure elegantly flipped and landed on top of an airplane tug, holding Steve’s shield. You could make out that there was some kind of symbol on the new hero’s chest, but you couldn’t make out what it was. You’d never seen this person before.

“Damn, Tony got somebody too!” You heard Scott hiss under his breath over the comm, causing you slight concern. “Don’t worry, Scott,” you replied quietly, speaking into the comm, “We’ve got this.”

“Nice job, kid,” you heard Tony say, addressing the new hero who had just appeared. This piqued your interest; Tony called you “kid” too, and he only did that to people who really were kids (essentially). So, was this new hero somebody like you?

“Thanks!” The new hero said, and it was clear by his voice that it was a guy talking, “Well, I could’ve stuck the landing a little better, it’s just the new suit. Wai-it’s nothing- Mr. Stark, it’s-it’s perfect. Thank you.”

“Yeah, we don’t really need to start a conversation,” Tony replied, looking slightly annoyed. You had to stifle a giggle; this new hero must really be NEW. New to the hero scene, definitely new to meeting Tony. His slight awkwardness and enthusiasm were actually kind of cute, and you definitely remember when you were that way. Granted, it was years ago, but still. The boy’s demeanor made you smile.

‘Wait, no. Don’t get distracted by the new guy, you’re here to fight and help Steve’ the little voice in your head scolded you for getting distracted, so you quickly wiped the smile from your face and continued to listen.

“Okay,” The new hero acknowledged Tony’s comment, falling awkwardly silent for a moment before continuing, now addressing Steve and saluting him, “Cap-Captain. Big fan, I’m Spider-man.”

“Yeah, we’ll talk about it late,” Tony interjected again, getting increasingly annoyed by Spider-man’s rambling, causing you to stifle another giggle, trying so hard not to laugh. This was so awkward but so funny.

“Hey, everyone,” Spider-man added on, and you actually let out a small snort this time from trying so hard not to laugh. You almost felt bad for this Spider-man guy and were definitely experiencing second-hand embarrassment for him. He definitely wasn’t smooth, and because of that, now you had to regain your composure from trying not to laugh. Man, had the situation not been what it was, you definitely would’ve loved to meet Spider-man and get to know the person behind the mask. You felt as though the two of you would be great friends.

‘Pull yourself together, (Y/N)! What are you, a third-grader?!’

“You’ve been busy,” Steve said simply with a slight smile, to which Tony snapped back, “And you’ve been a complete idiot.” He then rambled off about how Steve dragged Clint out of retirement and Wanda from a safe place.

‘Oh, boy. Tony’s gonna be pissed when he finds out Steve brought you along, too,’ the little voice whispered in your head, but you brushed the thought aside as Tony said, “I’m trying to keep you from tearing the Avengers apart.”

Whatever laughter you had been trying to stifle seconds ago vanished, and you immediately switched back into fighter mode as Steve stated, “You did that when you signed.” Things were not looking good as Tony yelled at Steve to turn Bucky over to them, but Steve just looked away for a moment before looking back. At that moment, Sam’s voice came over the comm again, “We’ve found it. The Quinjet’s in hangar five, north runway.”

You knew that this was the turning point. This was it. So, you quickly unsheathed a couple of your throwing knives and got ready to fight. Suddenly, Steve put his hands up in the air. That was it; the signal. So, without taking even a moment to hesitate, you threw one of your specially-designed knives and cut the ropes binding Steve’s hands together without giving him so much as a scratch.

“Aw, damn, (Y/N)! That was supposed to be my shot!” Clint’s exasperated voice came over the comms, to which you replied, “Sorry, old man! You gotta be quicker than that!”

The look you imagined on Clint’s face made you laugh, but you bantered with him like that all the time so you were sure that he didn’t mind; he was used to you calling him “old man”. To him, you were like an adopted teenage daughter and he loved you like one. All the Avengers had adopted you as a family member of their own, and you loved them as your family in return. That was what made this battle so difficult; you were fighting part of your own family.

“Alright, Lang,” Steve said, after which Scott immediately grew and punched Spider-man as he grabbed the shield before returning it to Steve, “I believe this belongs to you, Captain America.” If it were the time and place for it, you would’ve face-palmed; Scott wasn’t any better than the Spider-man guy in terms of awkwardness.

After that, the battle really took off. Iron Man went after Wanda and Clint, while Rhodey stayed behind to fight Steve, though not before having located Sam and Bucky. T’Challa ran off immediately afterward, probably after Bucky, and you noticed that Nat and Spider-man just stood by as Steve began to fight Rhodey.

‘Oh, no. Here we go!’

Steve went after T’Challa to try and stop him from going after Bucky when Spider-man suddenly shot what looked like webs and swung off. That amazed you; the guy was surprisingly nimble and almost looked like a professional gymnast in terms of how graceful his movements were.

‘Focus!’

“Cap, where am I needed?” You shouted in the comm, but nobody gave you an answer as they were preoccupied. So, you decided you would do what you knew to do best; fight. However, your overwhelming curiosity about the new hero got the best of you, so you decided to pursue him and prevent him from getting in the way of any of your teammates. As you sprinted after the web-slinger, you passed Natasha fighting Scott and Steve fighting T’Challa, but none of them had noticed you go by. “I’m going after the web-slinger!” You said to nobody in particular, just hoping somebody heard you over the comms as you sprinted at full capacity.

‘Man, that dude is fast!’

You watched as Spider-man swung into the building where Sam and Bucky were, so you decided to take a shortcut in order to intervene. As you got to the main area where Bucky, Sam, and the web-slinger were fighting, you heard Spider-man yell “You have the right to remain silent!”. “What the hell is with this guy?” You muttered to yourself, running to catch up to Sam and Bucky. Then, you watched as Spider-man shot a web that blocked a vent on Sam’s jetpack, causing him to fall.

In retaliation, you quickly threw three knives, one after the other, and they caught Spiderman’s suit, pinning him against the wall behind him. “Sam!” You yelled as you ran over to him, helping him free the webbing off his jetpack while still keeping an eye on the new hero, who seemed to be both surprised and amazed.

“Woah! Who are you?! You have crazy good aim, how did you manage to do that?! You only got the fabric of my suit but entirely missed my skin! Is your mask enhanced to improve your aim? Or do you just know how to do that instinctively? That’s so cool, I-”

“You must be new to this because you’re talking way too much for a fight,” You cut the web-slinger off, though his rambling about how cool your aim was amused you. At the sound of your voice, Spider-man seemed taken aback once again, “Wait a sec, you sound kinda young. Like, my-age-teenager young. Wait, hang on, if you’re that young... then, how are you such a good fighter?!”

“Man, you’re really geeked out by this, aren’t you?” You chuckled, sheathing your knives after setting Sam free from the webbing that stuck him to the railings, “You’re not the only teenager with abilities, Spidey. Though my abilities aren’t powers, like yours. Also, did you know that you ask a lot of questions?”

“Ahh, sorry. Mr. Stark did mention that I do that sometimes. Right, sorry, my bad, gotta get back to fighting.”

With that, Spider-man freed himself from your knives, shooting a web and slinging down towards you. However, you expected this and as he swung in to land a kick, at the very last moment, you jumped to dodge his strike, twisted in midair and kicked him instead, causing him to hit the floor and roll a few feet. You heard him groan in pain as he clutched his stomach where you had hit him before he quickly shot another web and was back up in the air.

“Man, you hit HARD! That was kinda mean, you know!” He groaned, trying again to land a hit on you, “But, that was also kind of awesome!” He shot a web towards your hands, but you grabbed a knife and swiftly severed it before it even made contact with your skin. “Ah, ah, ah! Don’t you know it’s rude to hold a lady’s hand before taking her out to dinner first?!”

Your joke must’ve caught Spider-man off guard because he hesitated, and in that moment of hesitation, you managed to throw another knife which, in the perfect trajectory, shattered one of his web-shooters on his wrist. “Oh, COME ON! That’s not fair! You distracted me with a joke! I didn’t think you’d actually be funny!” He cried, looking from his wrist back to you, but you were relentless. He had to keep swinging with only one web-shooter now, which made him less nimble than he was before. However, he caught you off guard and managed to land a blow, which threw you back into a wall. Your vision exploded with spots of darkness and your head ached terribly from the impact, but after a couple seconds, you got back up on your feet.

As soon as you did, Spider-man was back, trying to land another hit. However, he misjudged the timing of his web-slinging and straight up crashed into you full force, knocking both of you over and causing you both to roll a few feet, all entangled. You were disoriented and were struggling with this boy to get him off and land a few punches. But Spider-man was STRONG. Stronger than any teenage boy could ever be; he deflected your hits as if they were nothing. If you were to land any more hits, it would have to be due to timing and strategy.

However, in the ensuing struggle, your mask has slid down your face enough to reveal your eyes. When Spider-man saw them, he straight up froze, as though enchanted by them. The truth was that he WAS enchanted; your (Y/C) eyes were beautiful and there was a fire in them that was so passionate and strong that he found himself wanting to be engulfed by that fire. He wanted to get to know the girl that embodied that fire, and suddenly, he wished that he could get to know you as the person behind the mask.

Then, suddenly, he was breathless. Literally breathless. He couldn’t breathe and was gasping and wheezing for air. You had taken the opportunity of him gazing into your eyes to knee him as hard as you could in the gut and had effectively winded him. With that, you got up, but not before swiftly taking off Spider-man’s other web-shooter and webbing him to the floor. You were breathing heavily as you threw the web-shooter little ways off before turning back to Spider-man.

“I’m sorry, Spidey. But I had to. Lesson number one: never let your guard down. Shame we had to meet this way, I really think we could’ve been great friends otherwise. You actually seem really cool. I hope to meet you under better circumstances next time,” You said honestly, looking down at the hero on the floor. You chuckled for a moment before pulling your mask back up over your face and turning around, heading off to free Sam and Bucky and continuing on your mission.

Peter took a few moments to catch his breath, pulling off his mask and watching your figure run off as he took into consideration what you had said. ‘”You actually seem really cool. I hope to meet you under better circumstances next time.”’ Your words echoed in his head and he felt his heartbeat speed up in his chest. “Oh, man...” he whispered breathlessly to himself, “Who is she? She’s so cool...” After a couple more seconds, Peter slipped his mask back on, managed to free himself from the webbing, retrieved his webshooter, and swung off in the direction you had gone. Under his mask, he couldn’t help but smile a bit to himself. Despite the fact that you had dealt him some serious blows, and that he was definitely going to be feeling them tomorrow, he still wanted to see you again. Peter wanted to know more about the girl behind the mask, the girl who had defeated him on the battlefield. And he was going to do whatever it took to talk to you again.

#peter parker imagine #peter parker #imagine #imagines #tom holland #spiderman #spiderman imagine #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #marvel imagine

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