#except her coding in much different than Bucky and so are her powers

[athenadcvell]

Anyone else got that one fanfic they started writing like two or three years ago, and it’s kinda cringy and not really good but you keep updating it every couple of months because there is a tiny group of like four people that still reads it and enjoys it? Because ya, same. 

[fireinmoonshot]

SPIDER | BUCKY BARNES x READER | PART ONE

CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR TFATWS EPISODE 3 ONWARDS.

PART ONE OF ? Summary: Bucky doesn’t know what to make of you when he meets you. You’re friends with Sharon, and you seem pretty easy to read on the surface. But the more time he spends with you, the more he seems to uncover, and the more he becomes tangled in the web you unwittingly weave.  Pairing: female!Reader x Bucky Barnes Fandom: Marvel / The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Word Count: 1,138 Warnings: SPOILERS FOR THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER EPISODE 3 ONWARDS A/N: Title is taken from the song Spider by Hoshi! The lyrics really inspired me for the dynamic between reader x Bucky in this one. This does contain spoilers for Episode 3 of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier and it will probably contain more as the parts go on. I’m not sure how many parts there will be at this point, I’ll just see how I go! Please let me know how you enjoy it and I’ll try and get the second part up relatively soon!

Bucky specifically makes sure he doesn’t look at you for too long just so he can avoid the teasing from Sam – because he knows Sam will tease him. Sam always teases him. He also avoids looking at you for too long because he’s worried you’ll catch him and he’ll have to explain himself. He’s not good at explaining himself.

From where you’re sat across from him in your and Sharon’s apartment, you cross your legs and take a long sip of your drink. Zemo has made himself at home, Sam and Sharon are having a conversation by the wardrobe and Bucky is sat on the couch looking more uncomfortable than you’ve ever seen anyone sit before.

“We don’t bite, you know?” You say.

He looks at you for a second. “You’re funny.”

“I wasn’t trying to be. I’m telling the truth. Sharon and I – we genuinely don’t bite. And that couch doesn’t either, it’s actually rather comfortable.”

Bucky narrows his eyes at you. You smile.

He doesn’t know what to make of you and it bothers him.

When Sharon had found them in Madripoor and essentially saved their lives, Bucky hadn’t expected to see her, let-alone see her with someone else. In the time it’d taken you to get back to your apartment Sharon had explained the basics. You’d met accidentally one night when you were both on the run from different people. A friendship had been struck and you’d been by each others sides ever since, saving each others asses on a nearly daily basis. The blip had taken the both of you, but when you came back things were just the same, if not stronger.

Sharon crosses the room and sits down rather comfortably on the couch next to Bucky. You smirk at the difference in their posture and Bucky flashes a glance at you once more, and thankfully you don’t catch him.

“Karli Morgenthau and at least seven others have taken the serum,” Sam sits down on the chair beside you, ignores Bucky’s comment about your best friend and instead, focuses on the situation at hand.

“You guys really should steer clear of all of this… for your own safety.”

Sam shakes his head. You’ve only known him personally for a matter of hours, but it’s clear to you that he’s the type of man who never backs down. You find it easy to trust people like him. “We know it’s a risk but we’re not gonna leave until we find the person who cracked the code.”

Bucky speaks up. “We got a name. Wilfred Nagel.”

You recognise the name. Sharon meets your eyes and you can see the apprehension in her face. “Nagel works for the Power Broker.” She stands up and goes to get her drink. The protective instincts you feel for her nearly make you stand up and order the three men out of your apartment, though you truly doubt they’d listen. You and Sharon have been through too much to get yourselves tangled up in more, right?

“We need your help, Sharon,” Sam starts again. “I can get your name cleared.”

Unintentionally, you suck in a harsh breath. Bucky looks at you, the only one in the room who seems to have noticed your intake of breath. He notices that you’re tense now, no longer comfortably slumped in your chair. He also notices that the grip you have on your glass is much tighter.

Sharon raises an eyebrow. “You haggling with my life?”

“Not like that.”

“I don’t buy that. You pretending like you can clear my name.”

“Okay, maybe it is hypocrisy. Maybe you’re right. What happened to you. But I’m willing to try if you are,” Sam stood up and walked over to Sharon. “They cleared the bionic staring machine, and he killed almost everybody he’s met.”

“I heard that.” He speaks without looking away from you, not caring that he’s living up to Sam’s nickname. You don’t notice.

“I don’t trust charity.”

“Okay, a deal, then. You help us out and I get your name cleared.”

Your grip on the glass tightens as you watch Sharon sigh and reach out a hand to shake Sam’s extended one. Bucky, at this point, is surprised that the glass hasn’t shattered, but then again – you’re not a super soldier, and the glass is pretty thick.

Sharon lets go of Sam’s hand. “Well, I sell to some pretty connected people. Lay low, enjoy the party. Try to stay out of trouble. I’ll see what I can find.”

You’re on your feet in seconds, putting your glass down a little too heavily on the table and walking out of the room after her. Bucky is smart enough to put two and two together as Sam comes and sits back down.

“Only Sharon’s name?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

“What? I don’t know her friend. She’s barely said a word. We know Sharon. Her friend could be anyone. We’re not in the business of trusting people we don’t know. Not when this much is at stake.”

Bucky looks across at the glass you’d left on the table. “You’re judging people based off of first impressions now?”

“Don’t you?”

Bucky can’t bring himself to reply to that. He stands and wanders over to one of the windows that overlooks the city and the streets below. He pretends he’s looking out at the view, but he doesn’t see anything except for his reflection staring back at him darkly. He does. He did. He judged you, and then he judged Sam for doing the same thing. He shakes his head and turns back around.

“Let’s just get this damn party over with and find Nagel. I want to get out of here.”

He’s about to walk back over to Sam when you come downstairs. You grab your coat from the coat rack by the door and tug it on, pulling the hood up over your head. Sharon is nowhere to be seen and Bucky has a bad feeling your conversation hadn’t ended well.

“If anything the three of you are doing is going to end up hurting her, I’d rethink your plans.” You take a moment to look around the room and Bucky could have sworn your gaze lingered a little longer on him.

And then you’re gone, disappearing out the door without another word. Bucky ignores the tug deep in his stomach that pulls him to follow you and stays firmly rooted to the spot.

Sam frowns. “See? I knew something weird was up with her.”

***

Bucky doesn’t see you at the party that night. He looks, though. He spends too long looking. He sees Sharon talking to several people, he sees Zemo dancing and wishes he could erase the sight from his mind. But he doesn’t see the one person he doesn’t realise he wants to see. You.

[lowkeyorloki]

lbd

After a fight with Loki, you wear the smallest dress you can to an Avengers press event...

(smut smut smut)

~

The party was awful.

Stark’s press events often were. It was interesting, how the media had changed over the past eight years. In 2012, you and the rest of the Avengers would only be seen on news stations. Now, it wasn’t out of the ordinary to for your names to be in tabloids next to celebrities like Taylor Swift or Noah Centineo. The team wasn’t just heroes anymore, you were public figures as well.

Hence the formal attire, the flashing cameras, the expensive wine. These events only happened about once a year- they were manageable. Just a pain. Besides, you always had Loki to endure them with.

Except, not tonight. And so, the party was awful, not just boring.

The argument you had with Loki last night carried over into today, and when you were asking him about the event, he gave you no answer. Never in a million years did you think he would ignore during this. The press, the world, had never really forgiven him for New York. He was hated by the general public. It didn’t help it was a well-known fact he was with you: you, the youngest Avenger. You, who had been America’s golden girl until Loki corrupted you.

That was what everyone liked to say. Really, you just got older. And cynical. You couldn’t fight the worst of the worst throughout the universe and remain idealistic. 

You and Loki had to stick together for public appearances. The reporters tore you to shreds if you didn’t. And besides that... You didn’t like not being around the god. It was so much better to face things with him. You were together. Even when things were tense, the two of you could always lean on each other. That was the nature of your relationship.

And yet, here you were, halfway through your third glass of champagne, giving Steve a half-hearted smile as he spoke. Every so often, your eyes scanned the large hall, eventually falling on Loki. He avoided your gaze each time.

You wanted to be angry, or bitter. That’s what you felt earlier today when he wouldn’t speak to you. Loki wordlessly dressed in his suit, looked you up and down in your floor length dress, and left your shared room. In a fit of rage, you had dug through your closet for something that would anger him. No, not anger. That wasn’t the right word.

Entice him. Make him protective. Despite your life with him, you were still seen as the innocent Avenger. The normal girl who stumbled into justice. You never wore short or form fitting clothes anywhere there would be cameras. You were modest. That was the role you were pidgeonholed into. Social media, combined with constant interest and exposure, ensured that. In 2020, half of being an Avenger was perception. Every team member was an archetype. Every team member adhered to that. Outwardly, at least.

So when nothing in your closet would accomplish what you wanted, you raided Natasha’s. She helped you pick out something no one would expect you to wear: A silky black body con dress. When you tried it on, it barely came halfway down your thighs. There was little left to the imagination, considering its length and low neckline. 

You paired it with heels, and painted your nails Loki’s shade of green. Natasha gathered your hair into a messy bun, leaving your neck exposed. Even Wanda joined in, brushing sparkles over your collarbone. You looked unlike you ever had before.

Honestly, you looked like Natasha did on a daily basis. That brought you some amount of comfort, knowing you wouldn’t be sticking out. But it went without saying you didn’t look like yourself, and no one had ever seen you like this. The press would have a field day.

But it wasn’t them you cared about. The only person you were thinking about was Loki.

And he didn’t even do a double take. When you first walked into the room, his eyes rested on you just a second. Then he turned away.

So you didn’t find yourself angry like you were just a few hours before this. When Loki ignored you, you only felt... Sad. Empty, almost. You had been upset with each other for less than a full day, but you missed him. If there was no animosity between you two, Loki’s hand would be on the small of your back right now, and he would be whispering into your ear. Sharing jokes about everyone at the party, wrapped up in each other.

You fought so little. It was something you weren’t used to. 

“Hey.” Steve sticks an elbow into your ribs, pulling you from your thoughts. Next to him, Bucky wears a worried expression. “You okay?”

You sigh. Tipping your head back, you drain the rest of your drink and then nod.

“I’m fine, Steve.” he looks uncertain. “I mean it. I can last one night without him. Just because I’m in a relationship doesn’t mean I’m any less independent.”

“I believe that.” Steve agrees.

“You only believe her because that’s how you are.” Bucky grins at Steve, leaning over to steal a quick kiss from Captain America. Steve smiles, just barely, and holds Bucky’s hand in his own after the dark-haired man pulls back. Your eyes flicker away, but a genuine smile grows on your lips. You love to see your friends happy. They deserve it, your whole team does. 

It’s moments like these, when Steve is focused on Bucky and you on Loki, you remember you and Steve used to date. It seems like a completely different time, but it wasn’t even ten years ago.

You were with Steve when Loki attacked New York.

“I’m going for a refill.” you state. Both men look uncertain. You pay it no mind. “Do either of you want anything?” 

They shake their heads in response, so you make your way over to the bar. There’s no one there, not even the bartender, which bothers you at first. Then you realize it’s exactly what you need. Just a few minutes alone to clear your head. The bar is in same room as everyone else, so classical music and conversation are all around you. Still, you manage to find solace.

It’s quickly interrupted. 

“Hello, darling.”

Loki.

His breath tickles the back of your neck as he speaks. As soon as you’re aware of his presence, his smell envelops you. You shiver, noticing how close he must be to you.

You don’t turn around.

“Hi Loki.” you greet him back, eyes forward. You voice almost shakes, and you exhale, willing yourself to keep cool. Loki was always so calm and collected, something he used as a weapon. Clearly, even against you.

Loki hums, and his fingers softly begin to dance over your bare shoulder. 

“You look different,” he states. “With those shoes, you almost reach my height. But darling, you have never looked so small.” Loki’s voice drops on that last word, and a wave of heat flashes through your body. You set your glass down on the counter next to you, worried whatever Loki does next will cause you to drop it.

“Funny.” you say. “I don’t feel small.” You know Loki, know what the word small is code for. “Or weak.”

Loki tuts, and his large hands slide from your shoulders to your hips. Your dress is so short that his pinkies lay on your bare skin.

“No, I suppose you don’t.” Loki leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he talks. You can’t help it, you tremble, your surroundings beginning to fade away as you focus on the god. “I bet you felt quite powerful, teasing me in this dress. Talking to Steve Rogers.” Suddenly, Loki pulls you into him, and you gasp. His length presses completely against your ass, and you are barely able to bite back a moan.

This is harder than you’ve ever felt him. Your breathing becomes hitched, but Loki’s strong grip keeps you glued to him. His fingers dig into your hips, and you’re sure there will be bruises tomorrow.

“Did you think,” Loki rolls his hips against you, causing a mewl to escape your lips. “...that I would forget your past with Rogers? That it had just, slipped my mind that he is the only man you have ever laid with besides myself?” Loki’s lips connect with the crook of your neck, pressing wet kisses there that are anything but gentle. “Or was that the point? To make me jealous?” Loki’s next words shake you the most. “Can you even count the amount of times I have been inside you?”

Just like that, his hands relax, and you begin to catch your breath.

“Smile.” Loki points, and you notice the groups of reporters making their way to you, cameras flashing. Loki pivots, turning both of you so you face the them. He drops one hand to his side, but the other snakes around your waist. It won’t be obvious in the photos, but his fingers are dangerously close to your heat, filling you to the brim with want.

Just as you manage to get yourself under control, the cameras begin flashing. You force a smile, and when you look at Loki, he’s staring straight ahead, expressionless.

You hated getting photos taken, knowing the headlines they would be paired with. But Loki hates it even more. You were always the victim in the media’s eyes, but Loki had never outgrown the villain. He worked so hard to be good, so hard to change. And for what? No one believed him, save for you and his brother.

Your heart grows heavy, and despite the fight, despite the teasing that left you melting in his arms, you want Loki to know you appreciate him. 

You tug on the front of his suit jacket, capturing his attention. Loki looks down at you, confusion in his eyes. You reach forward, placing your hand on the back of his neck and tugging him down so his lips met yours.

It was filthy, the way he kissed you in front of the press. Loki once again pulled you to him, your chests pressed together. He laid his hand on your back, and thank god he did, because it kept you grounded. Your teeth clacked together more than once, and Loki gave you no opportunity to gather yourself before he sucked on your bottom lip. Your were eyes closed, but you still heard as the reporters went wild, cameras snapping as they each tried to get the juiciest shot.

Loki was the one who ended the kiss, tugging away from you. He took your hand in his, waving with the other. In the crowd, you could see Steve standing in shock, arm around Bucky’s waist. Stark was next to them, looking furious.

Loki makes eye contact with you before he briskly walks away, tugging you with him. You have no time to ask where it is he’s taking you before you somehow slip into the kitchen unnoticed.

The kitchen staff stops, and you realize what this must look like to them. Loki, with a hungry look in his eyes, and you, swollen lips and practically half-naked. Jesus, was this where you thought the night was going?

“Get out.” Loki addresses the staff. They share glances, unsure of whether to listen. Loki sighs. “We are two hours into a four hour party. No one ever comes for food, they just want to drink. You are no longer needed. Now, get,” Loki’s irises flash green. “...out.”

They listen then, rushing out of the doors and through the backroom that will lead them from the building. The locks on each door click shut, surely a result of Loki’s magic. 

“You.” you squirm under the god’s harsh gaze. “Are a very. Stupid. Girl.” with each step Loki takes forward, you take one backwards, until your back is against the tiled wall. Your heart begins beating fast. You look to Loki’s pants, taking in the tent. Your heart rate accelerates even more.

He places his hands on the wall, one on either side of your face, trapping you with him. Wordlessly, Loki begins sucking on your collarbone, his lips moving down your breasts until they hit the neckline on your dress. Your eyes roll back, and you grip Loki’s hair tight. He rams his knee in between your thighs, and you cry out. 

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” he rolls his hips, and now that you’re alone, you can feel and experience it to the fullest expense. Your mouth falls open as Loki presses his clothed length against your clothed sex, moaning and letting out a string of curses. “Look at me, darling.” You listen, obeying Loki as he removes his knee. 

Loki makes full eye contact as he takes your left breast in his hands, kneading and massaging you as he gauges your reactions. You begin panting, and soon enough, Loki grabs the front of your dress with both hands and rips it, exposing your bare breasts.

You hiss at the sudden cold, but it doesn’t last long as Loki sucks on your nipple, running his calloused thumb other the other. Loki swirls his tongue, and you whimper, arching your back. As the sensation builds inside you, Loki takes a steps back, drinking in the sight of you.

“The media won’t soon forget this. Until now, the worst they had caught us doing was holding hands.” he growls. His lips are redder than usual, and his hair was messy because of your fingers in it. “I can imagine the scolding from Stark.”

“Who cares about Stark? You just ruined Natasha’s dress.” you say, your voice strained. His absence is noticeable, and your body aches for Loki’s touch. He raises an eyebrow.

“Sweet girl, whose fault is that? None of this would ever have happened if you simply dressed appropriately.” the hair on your arms stands up. Loki hums. “I think you should make it up to me. You got us into this mess, did you not?” Loki smirks.

The feeling in your stomach builds up again, lust taking over you. You take off you heels, and sink to your knees. Loki’s pupils dilate as you move closer to him.

You unbuckle his belt, sliding it off and discarding it on the floor next to you. Slowly, you unbutton Loki’s dress pants, your fingers catching on the tip of his underwear as you do.

You want to draw this out, to tease Loki as he teased you. But when you see his hard length, and the damp spot on the cloth holding it, you can’t bring yourself to. Loki is a god, much stronger and faster than you. When you turn to dust, Loki will be as young and full of life as he is now.

But his needs are the same as any other man’s. You’re determined to fulfill them.

You brush your mouth over him, causing Loki’s eyes to close momentarily. When they do, you waste no time exposing him. Loki fingers run through your hair immediately, grasping tightly. You can hear his breathing become just a bit irregular. 

You keep your eyes on Loki’s as you lick him, from shaft to head. You lap at the precum there, then slowly take him into your mouth.

Loki lets out a sigh, his lips parting, and you rub circles onto his hipbones with your thumbs. You bring your arms against your chest, pushing your bare breasts up to make them appear bigger. You want to give Loki the best view possible.

It must have worked, because Loki’s hips buck forward. The tip of his cock hits the back of your throat, and you almost gag. Instead, you moan around him. setting a slow pace. Every so often, you flick your tongue across his head, and Loki tugs on your hair when you do.

Loki quivers, and he’s thrown his head back now. His eyes are squeezed shut, his mouth open, and he looks so pleased. Pride washes over you at the thought of you making him feel this way.

You bring your hand up, taking the parts of Loki that your mouth just can’t reach. With the added freedom, you circle his tip, switching up the pressure and surrounding him with your warmth. Carefully, you cup his balls, making sure every part of him is paid attention to.

Loki groaned as you fucked him with your mouth, cheeks hallowed. He begins panting, holding your head even tighter. His shirt has ridden up over his navel, and the sight nearly drives you crazy.

“I’m going to-” you don’t let him finish, picking up the pace until Loki jerks forward, spilling his seed with a curse.

There’s so much, some dribbles out the corners of your mouth before you can swallow it all. Your chests warms at the idea of part of Loki being inside you. You’ve barely leaned back to catch your breath before he’s pulled you up and into a kiss, groaning as he tastes himself on you. Your body becomes slack, relying entirely on Loki’s for support. 

“You’re insatiable.” he says into your mouth. He picks you up, and you wrap your legs around his waist. Loki carries you to a nearby counter and sets you atop it.

Your dress is hiked up to your hips now, leaving you covered in just a g-string. As Loki begins to take it off, you stop him.

“Wait.” you say. He stops, giving you a surprisingly soft look. “I just...” you splay your hands across Loki’s strong chest. “I want to see you too.” your voice is quiet. 

Loki places his hands over yours as you unbutton his shirt. You slide it down his shoulders, then trace his collarbones and curve of his abs. Under the fluorescent lights of the kitchen, Loki looks even more pale than usual, the sharp contours of his body illuminated and exposed.

You never grow bored of the sight of him.

Now fittingly bare, Loki’s fingers travel up your thigh and stop at your sex. Similar to you, his gives you a few strokes over your thong before he rids you of it in one fluid motion. He angles himself to you, his tip teasing your entrance as he smirks at your noises. 

He enters you all at once. You bite down on his shoulder, nails raking down his back. You hold tight to Loki as he sinks into you, moving in a slow and almost tantalizing way. There’s sweat on both of your bodies, and despite your exposed state, you feel yourself heat up. 

Loki’s rhythm increases as you adjust to him. His hips move back and forth, and your bodies move in tandem, made for each other. You coo into Loki’s ears, moaning about how good he felt. How breathless he made you, how only he knew how to make you feel this way. No one knew your body like Loki.

The coil inside you finally snaps as Loki hits a pleasure spot deep inside you, and you let out a cry into his shoulder. Loki cums not long after, his body going tense as he rides out the wave of pleasure.

He holds you, rubbing your back as the aftershock rocks through your body. You shake, exhausted and satisfied as you close your eyes for a moment of rest. 

Eventually, Loki sets you back down on the floor. He tugs your dress down over your legs, and tucks stray pieces of hair behind your ears. You watch him wordlessly, allowing him to take of you.

After Loki is dressed himself, he gives you the jacket of his suit to wear.

“Oh.” you look down, remembering he ripped your dress. You slip the jacket on, buttoning it to protect the little modesty you have left.

He takes your hand, leading you to the door and back into the party. Before he does, you stop.

“I’m sorry about our fight.” you say. Loki lets out a chuckle, making you feel silly.

“Oh, sweet girl. After a tryst like this, I can assure you all is forgiven.”

[aries-writingblog]

Atlas (1)

Summary: After years of being imprisoned on the Raft, Tony negotiates freedom for his sister Tessa. When she’s free- so is her past, and it will never stop hunting her.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC(Stark)

Chapter Word count: 1,666

Warnings: PTSD (subtle ish), trauma, torture (in later parts), suicidal behaviors and thoughts, mentions of death, character death, injury, violence, angst, and a lil bit of fluff in there

Disclaimer: Atlas is my own, original work with characters belonging to Marvel (except Tessa and Dr. Clifton). Plagiarism is not cool kids.

A/N: this is my first work Im posting to this platform and I’m really excited and nervous about it. Hope you enjoy- constructive criticism is always helpful as well!!

The Avengers Tower. Former Stark Tower. 93 floors of office space, labs- people carrying out their business. People going about their day. At the top of all of them is Tony Stark. Waiting. Waiting in silence. Typically, he isn’t one to wait on anything or anyone but today... today is different. Today is special. Finally, the silence is broken by a shrill ring of his phone. Tony snaps it up, immediately accepting the call.

“Mr. Stark? Reid Kerrings.” The man’s voice carried through the phone, introducing himself. “Listen, I hear you’re trying to to negotiate a prisoners freedom?”

“She shouldn’t even be a prisoner,” Tony grumbled before plastering on a thick business tone. “Yes, that’s what I’m trying to do here. Thing is, I have a plan that I ran by Fury and Coulson and they seem to think it’s a great idea. Only thing is- that prisoner of yours is apparently ‘dangerous’ and she’d need stipulations on if she were to be released into my care.”

Tony hated this- speaking about her as if she were a terrorist. He hated that she’d been in maximum security prisons for six years. He hated that she was on the raft now. But, if he wanted to play ball, he had to agree to the terms. And unfortunately, that was one of the terms. He’d tried it his way two years ago and it got shut down. Several times.

“Well... you’re a damn maniac- prisoner 067112 is a psycho-“

“Her name is Tessa and that’s my sister you’re talking about so if you’d like to see your job another day I’d keep quiet.” Tony snapped, clenching his jaw. The phone fell silent before Kerrings cleared his throat.

“She would have to meet with an appointed therapist three days a week. She would also have to have a check in twice a week with a parole officer. If there is any flare up of her enhancement that is not accounted for by a member of your team, she comes back here and is no longer allowed parole. She is to be on a tight leash.” Kerrings read through the conditions of the agreement that Tony and Fury had worked out. “She must agree to these terms before her release. If she does, she will be escorted to your property tomorrow at 10:00 AM. Do you agree to these statements made today?”

“Yes.” Tony felt an excited, nervous bubble form in his stomach. He was doing it. His sister was almost free.

“Excellent. The escort team will run a security check on the building and perimeter.”

“Oh, well, not to brag or anything but- it’s the Avengers Tower. I ’m pretty sure this is the best it gets in terms of security.” Tony scoffed, turning when he heard the door opening. Steve Rogers stepped into the room, intending on speaking with Tony about another comm unit. He broke his. Again. He stopped short, hearing the man on the phone.

“This woman shouldn’t even be out of her cell here- she’s dangerous, I don’t care if shes your sister or not. The power of this woman is something that should be contained. not roaming around New York on a Thursday afternoon.”

“She’s a human being. No telling what you freaks have put her through in the raft- that’s probably why she’s going insane. You don’t even allow sunlight in that dingy of a prison. You treat someone like an animal, that’s what they become. Now, if you’ll excuse me, i’m going to run my own safety diagnostics on my own tower.” Tony quickly ended the call and lifted his eyes to meet Steve’s. “Can I help you, o wise elder of the yonder village?”

“Just... a new comm piece.” Steve stepped forward and tossed the broken pieces to the desk before meeting Tony’s eyes again. “What was that all about?”

“That is a surprise for the team I’m arranging.” Tony sat down at his desk, pulling up an image of a new weapon system, one that they’d encountered a few weeks ago on a mission. “These thugs were dealing with now... they’re sophisticated. They’re playing on a new ball field. So... I’m leveling it.”

“You can’t just do that without consulting the team first.” Steve scolded, his arms crossing over his chest. “What are you doing?”

“You’ll see- tomorrow morning at ten, have the team all meet in the conference room. I’ll bring my surprise to you.” Tony grinned, feeling strangely optimistic for once. Steve only sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to get anywhere with Tony.

“Fine- I’ll call a meeting.” Steve spun on his heel and marched out of the office. Tony sank further into his chair, spinning it to look out of the window.

“Friday, make sure floor ninety two is fireproof.” Tony called out, a twinge of doubt forming in his mind. He was quick to shake the thought from his mind, funneling all his belief into his sister. It had to work. For her sake.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sitting at the oval conference table, Bucky felt an impatience he hadn’t felt in months. Steve had let it slip- more like Bucky could tell there was something and kept prying- that Tony was on the phone with someone, talking about a prisoner. A woman prisoner. Bucky wasn’t sure what to expect and that caused a great deal of anxiety to pit in his chest. He didn’t like being kept in the dark.

Beside him, Steve sighed heavily, leaning his head on his fist, resting on the table. Being roommates with the guy, he knew Steve hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep last night, like most nights. He knew this because he himself was also up, roaming the apartment, watching tv and staring off the balcony.

“Anyone know what this surprise it stark mentioned?” Natasha pressed, becoming quite impatient herself. They’d all been sitting at the table for fifteen minutes. Waiting.

“No clue- I hope it’s better than the last surprise- the one that exploded while in use on the field.” Sam commented, scrolling absentmindedly on his phone.

Finally, the door to the room burst open, revealing Tony Stark marching in with purpose. Behind him, a woman in heavy chains, with metal cylinders encasing her hands, was being escorted in by two men in fire retardant kevlar uniforms. Her head was bowed, dark brown hair shifting to cover her face. Bucky sat up, seeing the woman marched in, heavily restrained. Tony clapped his hands, rubbing them together afterward. He gave the crowd a large smile and nodded once.

“Surprise, Avengers! This is my favorite sister, Tessa Stark, Tess, this is everyone. I’m sure you were given the brochure.” He turned to the two men. “You fulfilled your duties, you can go now.”

The men unclipped the chains and then pressed their thumbprints to the pads on the cylinders. They released with a hiss of steam, Tessa rubbing her wrists once they were free.

“I know you.” Sam’s voice broke into the conversation. Tessa’s jaw clenched and her eyes stared into the floor. She swallowed harshly, keeping her back ramrod straight and her hands in front of her. “Stark... oh, shit- where have I seen you...”

“Anyways folks, she is here to help out on our new group of rogues... she has a, ah... particular set of skills. Mostly explosives and fire. And since that’s what we’re dealing with, I’ve brought in the big guns.” Tony explained, settling in his chair and gesturing for Tessa to take a seat as well. She seemed wary of sitting beside Wanda but did it anyways, sitting barely on the edge of the chair. “Now, we’re gonna need a new plan of attack with-“

“Atlas!” Sam snapped his fingers, pointing at her. Tessa stiffened, caught off guard by the level of his voice. “That’s it! Code Name Atlas, Operation Dry Sands! You served in the army- I’m Sam Wilson, I flew with-“

“Riley...” her voice was raspy and low, rusted with disuse. “I remember you.” Bucky watched as she seemingly tried to melt into the chair, trying to hide herself.

“You were baller, man! She cleared missions like it was nothing!” Sam praised her, excited to finally meet her. “There was talk of her all over camps- everywhere!”

“Atlas?” Natasha asked, a brow raising. “That’s a peculiar code name- sounds... specific.” Tessa didn’t respond, keeping her head low. When the room fell silent, Steve took control.

“Right, well, Tony you mentioned a new plan of attack?” He expertly guided the topic over to a new path. Bucky couldn’t help but let his attention drift back to the new mystery in the room. He allowed his eyes to scan over her, stopping on her forearm where there was black ink. A tattoo of the army symbol, numbers below it. Maybe her squad number? Her arm shifted and Bucky looked up, meeting her eyes. He knew he’d fucked up.

Her dark brown eyes smoldered- a red tint glowing under her irises. Her lips were pulled into a scowl. He quickly lowered his gaze, catching a glance of her veins in her arms. glowing lightly orange. Bucky clenched his jaw and leaned back into his chair, a fierce scowl building on his lips. He didn’t like this woman, She seemed... violent. closed off. Hell- maybe she was just too much like him. And maybe he shouldn’t make a snap assumption but for some reason...

“Alright well, that’s all for now, Tessa- welcome to the team, please make yourself comfortable and if there’s anything we can do to help out- let us know.” Steve nodded as he stood up.

Tessa only nodded, stood up and spun on her heel- leaving the room without a word. Everyone glanced to Tony. He only shrugged and stood up.

“I’m gonna go make her feel at home- just got out of prison and all, see you around.” Tony gave a small wave over his shoulder and walked out, trailing out after his explosive sister.

[wayward-mikaelson]

In an AU scenario, where Baron Zemo's family survived the Sokovia disaster somehow, how could Captain America: Civil War play out if he and his family just took priority on taking care of each other rather than seek revenge towards anyone?

Also could you tag my message, the first and the next, I sent so I can see them on the happyhoganon tag?

Before we get into Civil War, let’s talk about Zemo for a minute because he did play a big part in Civil War and could still play a part in Civil War if his family didn’t die. Now a quick background on MCU Zemo.

We all know that Zemo was in EKO Scorpion-the Sokovian kill squad. Meaning, for those who don’t know, he’s just as good at killing people as any assassins are. Falcon and the Winter Soldier showed that to us in Episode Three Power Broker with the fight scene we were given. Since Zemo was a part of a kill squad we can assume that he had missions/deployments occasionally. Very common, his wife and son are used to it because he always came home in one piece. We also know he loved his wife and son very dearly. He was a good husband and a good father—He knew his son's favorite candy and knew that his son wanted an Xbox. He would literally do just about anything for them. Including death as we see in Civil War.

Now, let’s start with Zemo in Sokovia before we touch up on anything Civil War related.

Zemo and his EKO team are sent to defend the Battle of Sokovia. Instead of sending them outside of Novi Grad, he sends them to Riga where they would be safe from all the fighting if it were to make it out that far. Before being sent off to Riga, Zemo promises his family he will catch up to them as soon as he is able. During the evacuation, Zemo and his squad are told to evacuate as well. Zemo get’s whatever car he could get his hands on, hot wires it and speeds his way towards his family. In the rearview mirror, he can see part of his county begin to rise and part of him wants to pull over and watch. But something deep in his gut told him not to.

By the time he arrived in Riga, the devastation of Sokovia had spread worldwide. An entire country was blown to bits and wiped off the face of the Earth. Nothing remained except for the hundreds of lives that were lost.

Zemo volunteered to help with the search and rescue and when he arrived at what was left of Sokovia, he knew he made the right choice to get his family out of the entire country. Their home was nothing more than firewood now. Only a small handful of survivors were found under the rubble in the two days that it took to uncover all the bodies.

A year later, Zemo and a group of survivors go to New York to talk to Tony and Steve about what they could have done differently the moment the battle was over. “Many lives could have still been saved,” Zemo told the two men in front of him. So, Tony, Steve and Zemo talked about what they could do in the future.

But that didn’t stop other countries from drawing up the Sokovia Accords and presenting them to the Avengers after what happened in Lagos. Tony felt like he didn’t have a choice to sign. Natasha as well. Steve doesn’t sign at all because of the same reasons in Civil War.

Instead of a bomb killing T’Chaka, he has a heart attack and dies. Making T’Challa more eagared to get the Accords signed and finalized. T’Challa does what it takes.

Now, Steve finds out Tony let Ross take Wanda. Steve is mad that it happened. He enlists the help of Maria Hill and pulls Clint out of retirement. They track the transport bus down and Clint pops one the tires, making the bus swerve around. As they are getting Wanda off the buss and out of the straight jacket and shock collar, T’Challa comes to try and stop it but is bested by Clint and one of his shocking arrows.

Everyone meets up at the airport like they do in the movie, including Zemo. Steve felt that he would be a great asset to their cause and once he explained everything, Zemo was on his side.

Steve convinces Tony to let them go and before they go, it’s Natasha who reveals that Bucky is Tony’s parents' killer. She explained that after SHIELD/Hydra fell, she combed every single file that Hydra had and she discovered that it was Bucky who killed Howard and Maria Stark.

A fight breaks out because Tony couldn’t keep a level head and not only wants Wanda back, he wants Bucky to pay for the murder of his parents. As the fighting gets more intense, it’s Zemo and Clint that tell Steve that he and Bucky need to get Wanda out of there and leave the rest of them.

As the three of them run to the hanger, they are cornered by Tony. Tony at this point doesn’t care about Wanda. He’s willing to let Wanda go with Steve. He wants Bucky at this point. He wants Bucky to pay for what he did. He wants Bucky to feel what he felt when he lost his parents. But really, Tony can’t do that. Bucky already knows he lost too much.

Steve, of course, says no. Tony is ready to fight Steve until Wanda gets in the way. At this point, Tony’s brain is clouded and he can’t think straight. Tony’s ready to blast Wanda until Vision comes and puts his hand through Tony using the Mind Stone. Giving The trio enough time to leave.

The trio ends up in some random country in a nearby village. The villagers are welcoming and allow the three of them to stay for as long as they like. For the next few months, Wanda helps Bucky erase everything that Hydra did to him after telling Steve about his code words. Soon, Vision shows up with Sam and Natasha, who he broke free from prison.

Steve asked why he did what he did, Vision only answered “It was the right thing to do.”

Vision and Wanda go their separate ways. Sam goes his separate way. Natasha mentions something about a family and leaves. Steve and Bucky are left by themselves until it’s time to rescue Wanda and Vision from Thanos’s children. And it’s Rhodey who suggest they go to Wakanda to see if they can save Vision.

***

A/N: I'll be honest, I wrote this and rewrote this several times before I was happy with it. I do believe that if Zemo didn't break up the Avengers that it would be Natasha to break the news that it was Bucky who killed Howard and Maria Stark. I also believe that Vision would have some sort of "change of heart" after protecting Wanda and running with her. Bucky of course had to play a part cause Civil War isn't Civil War without Bucky so Steve just ended up finding him. Zemo does his part for family and to try and prevent something like Sokovia from happening again.

[lailannajacobs]

Not About Angels

Pairing: bucky x fem!reader

Prompt: "I'm not human. I never was. So why are you expecting me to act like one?"

Warnings: Angsty with mentions of physical abuse

Word Count: 4.6k 

A/N: So this is my submission for @sourpatchkidsandacokecan​ mystery Au challenge, and like a complete idiot, my brain couldn’t find inspiration for an Au but came up with this instead. Who knows what happened, I sure don’t! Hope you enjoy it regardless! <3 

September 5th, 2020

The hallways were too clean. It was strange that, despite every single change that had happened in your life over the past year, minor and drastic alike, the one change you couldn’t get used to was the hallways. That, and the cheery faces. Everyone was so damned happy to be here; to be heroes. You’d wipe the smiles off their faces if you could. Deep down, they were no different than you or anyone else. Behind the supposed moral codes and the fancy suits, they were no different than you, hiding in the shadows from the pain of doing what no one else wanted to do.

You supposed it was the reason they decided to make you a part of the team instead of taking you to the Raft. You could do what no one else wanted to do. But that wasn’t what they told you. They told you that you were here because you were the victim; that you were forgiven. You doubted your own victims would see it that way.

Some days, especially the first month they’d kept you here, you would have preferred prison. They’d kept you in a room without electricity, and the first time he’d walked in you’d almost killed him just to feel that familiar buzz in your veins. By the time you realized who he was, you were so weak the only thing you could do was wish you had.

There had been too many people asking you questions, not only about intel on Hydra, but also about how you were feeling. No one had ever asked you that. They hadn’t needed to start either. Every day the suffocation made you want to scream. Now…now their questions no longer held as much weight. They gave you space, eventually letting you train and go on missions with them. You’d changed your alliances because you knew they weren’t going to let you go back, but you hadn’t expected not to miss it. You hadn’t expected to stop wanting to run away so quickly; for everything to feel almost normal again. Or at least, almost as normal as it had been when you were working as an assassin for Hydra. Almost. The hallways were too clean.

Everything was too clean - too perfect. Most nights you slept on the floor because it was the closest thing to your bedroom back home. Only the longer you stayed here, the more you realized that it wasn’t a home - it wasn’t even a bedroom. You had never noticed before. For as long as you could remember, you had stayed in that dungeon cell, only taken out for training and missions before being locked back in. You’d been told that to be exceptional at what you did that you had to forgo the weaknesses everyone else relied on. You became exceptional.

Steps coming down the hall caught your attention and you stilled, waiting to see who it was. Wanda Maximoff approached with sure and easy steps, not one to be afraid of you, your skills or your powers. None of the Avengers were, but this inhuman had every right not to be. You were powerful. She was something else.

“You’re needed in the briefing room,” She said, not coming any closer than she had to.

You appreciated the distance more than she would ever realize. Out of every extraordinary being in this place, she was the only one who had an inkling of understanding where you came from. It was probably the reason you didn’t completely distrust her like you did everyone else.  

Nodding, you followed behind.

“You’re not going to like this mission,” She began, her voice serious and free of any fake pleasantries others would have used to soften the blow, “There was no one else we could send with you.”

She didn’t have to tell you who you were being sent off with. There was only one person you despised enough in this place that it would merit a warning. Because a warning was all this was. You wouldn’t beg for a new partner or cause a scene, not when you might risk getting kicked off of the first mission you’d had in a month. You’d withstand his company for a moment of freedom; it was worth the price.

But as soon as you walked into the briefing room and saw that messy head of dark hair, you almost backed out on your promise and demanded to go with someone - anyone - else. He looked up at the sound of your approach, his piercing blue eyes following your every move as you took a seat at the far end of the table. He said nothing. He’d learned a long time ago, after a black eye and a broken nose, that you wanted nothing to do with him. He’d been lucky then that you hadn’t done worse. After taking you away from everything you’d known and having brought you to this place, there was nothing he could say or do that would ever make up for it.

“Is this going to be a problem?” Fury demanded, glancing between the two of you.

You and the Winter Soldier shook your heads.

“All right then. Let’s begin.”

Fury went on with the briefing, but you were only half listening. Most of your concentration was on the flow of electricity in the room, the constant hum calming your nerves. This room was surrounded on all sides by currents big and small, and every breath you took in was slower and longer than the last.

“YN!” Fury barked.

You reigned in your surprise too late, a bulb overhead shattering. You didn’t flinch or apologize.

“Yes, sir?”

“Were you even listening?”

You blinked slowly, “You want us to extract military files kept in a Hydra base off the coast of Maine. We leave tomorrow at 21h sharp. Should be a simple job. You want it done as efficiently as possible.”

Fury sighed, “Next time, there’s no need to blow apart another one of my bulbs. It’s getting ridiculous.”

“At least it was a bulb and not your hearts,” You replied, somewhat honestly and somewhat hoping to make them uncomfortable.

“You know,” He began, that one all-seeing eye dissecting you, “It gets a little hard to trust you when you say things like that.”

“I didn’t ask you to trust me,” You shrugged, “I didn’t even ask to be here and quite frankly, I’m still not sure why I am. But maybe you should ask the Soldier. He’s the reason I’m here, maybe he knows something we don’t.”

You stood and walked out of the room before either of them could respond. Everyone knew why you were here. Your skills and your knowledge were more useful than most of them would admit. That sure as hell didn’t mean you had to be friends with any of them.

March 4th 2020

When Bucky walked out of the emergency room hours later, he found Steve still waiting for him.

“How is she?” Steve asked.

Bucky ran a hand through his hair, exhausted, “Stable. Though they don’t know how much she’ll remember of the last 24 - 48 hours. Apparently she was dosed with a some drug that impaired her short term memory. The doctor said that with the amount she was dosed with, it’s impressive that her brain can function at all,” Bucky shuddered but continued on, “We might have an active Hydra agent on our hands when she wakes up.”

“Let her get through this and then we’ll see what happens.”

“I hope so,” Bucky sighed.

Steve didn’t need to see the look on his friend’s face to know that some part of Bucky would always be trying to atone for the things he did before. Saving this woman was just one of those ways. Sadly, Steve was pretty sure she wouldn’t want or appreciate their saving. He’d read her file. She’d been a part of Hydra from the moment she’d been handed over by the foster system, barely able to walk ye.t. That wasn’t something you just walked away from.

Steve put a hand on his best friend’s shoulder, “She might not make it out of this, Buck. And if she does, there’s no guarantee she wants our help.”

“She’ll get through this,” He affirmed.

Steve nodded, though he winced on the inside. Buck would do whatever it took to save this woman. They were tied by something Steve would never be able to fully understand. The only thing he could do was stand beside his friend and hope she didn’t tear Bucky apart.

September 6th 2020

The documents were nowhere to be found. You didn’t know if Fury had gotten false information or if they had seen you coming, but neither of you had found anything close to the documents you were looking for. You knew Hydra well enough to know that if you hadn’t found them by now, they weren’t here. Hydra was too arrogant to hide their information. They firmly believed they would prevail, regardless of how many hits they took. Cut off one head, two more will take its place.

“What do you think?” He asked, breaking the silence for the first time since you’d broken into the base.

You shook your head, “It’s not here.”

He nodded his agreement and motioned for you to follow him out.

Jolting the electric currant in the building, the buzz hid the sound of your steps as you snuck back out of the compound. It was so loud, you almost didn’t notice the familiar hum of a human body seconds before the man’s dagger came at you. You managed to turn at the last second, catching the man’s dagger in the sleeve of your combat suit. The blade didn’t pierce the skin and you flipped the man over, breaking his wrist to make him drop the dagger into your hand.

“You wouldn’t happen to know where the files we’re looking for are, would you? You asked, sending tiny shockwaves down his body.

He squirmed under your grip, eyes widening as he recognized you. All of Hydra knew who you were, even if you couldn’t recognize any of them to save your life. His eyes darted to Barnes for help, but quickly recognized him as well. You couldn’t help but see the irony in the pair of you, even if he was last person you wanted to be here with.

He was about to dislodge the pill they all kept in their fake tooth, the one the Avengers had taken from you the moment they’d brought you in, but you weren’t going to let him off that easily. Your current was faster than his movement, interrupting the signals going to his tongue and jaw. They’d made you do terrible things to perfect that kind of skill, it was only fitting that it be used against them.

“Please,” The man begged, the words garbled but clear enough for you to understand, “Have some humanity.”

“I’m not human,” You grinned, recognizing his badge as one of the many researchers and scientists, “I never was, remember? Don’t expect me to start acting like one now.”

You tried to plunge the dagger into the man’s chest, but Barnes grabbed your wrist before you could get close. He pulled you toward him so that he was the only thing you could see, those metal fingers a vice grip.

“You are human, YN,” He practically growled, “I don’t care what they’ve told you. You. Are. Human. But if you keep doing this, doing what they want you to do, you won’t be.”

“Who are you to judge?” You snarled.

“Someone who’s been there,” He murmured, loosening his grip, “You choose.”

You shook your head in disgust, “Stay out of my way, Soldier.”

You sent enough electric current through the man’s heart to knock him out cold, watching as he crumpled to the ground with a resounding thud. You didn’t know whether or not Barnes followed you out, but you didn’t care. He could do what he wanted. At least someone here could.

March 4th, 2020 - Hours before

“What’s going to happen to her?” Bucky demanded, trying not raise his voice.

He had no right to get angry at the doctors. They weren’t responsible for what had happened to her. A small part of him knew that neither was he, but it was hard to believe. If he’d gotten there sooner…If he’d been a little faster, more efficient, then she wouldn’t be in this mess.

“She’ll live, Sergeant Barnes,” The doctor replied, “But you need to get out the way and let us do our job.”

He was about to leave, but couldn’t help himself and blurted out, “She’s inhuman. I don’t know what her gifts are, but she’s inhuman.”

A nurse shoved him out of the room, “We know.”

Bucky ran a hand through his hair, pacing outside the double doors. He needed to do something else, focus on anything else, but he couldn’t. He knew what it was like to be at their mercy, flashes and glimpses of memories flickering through his mind, their seizing grip on his heart suffocating. He refused to let someone else die at their hands.

“Buck, I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Steve approached, a file in his hand, “You might want to take a look at this.”

Bucky sucked in a deep breath and took the file. The few sheets inside were about the woman they’d pulled out of that hell hole. An inhuman, gifted with the ability to control electrical currents and an active Hydra agent from the age of five, under their control from the age of three. There was no known family listed, nothing connecting her to the living other than the people who’d locked her up and used her. Bucky grit his teeth.

A shock blast blew out one of the doors, glass shattering everywhere. Bucky ducked to the side, shielding his face with his arm. He searched for Steve, only reassured when his friend turned up on the other side of the hallway, nodding that he was fine.

Shouting came from inside of the room, and Bucky was moving before he knew what he was doing. He burst into the room, only to find her convulsing on the table, an aura of yellow current surrounding her body.

“Rubber gloves,” He directed, weaving around the scrambling doctors to reach her, “Now!”

Recovering quickly, the followed his orders without hesitation. He stopped at the side of her table and took in a deep, steadying breath. He was about to reach for her hand some someone held him back.

“You’ll get electrocuted,” The nurse warned.

“I’m used to the pain.”

Bucky took her hand in his metal one.

The pain was excruciating but familiar and Bucky winced his way through it, trying to provide as much comfort as he could. Hydra had tried to make him weaker and compliant, but the constant pain had made him stronger, exactly for moments like this.

The pain began to ease when his breathing shallowed and hers evened out. With their rubber gloves, the doctors injected her with a clear liquid and moments later, the current vanished completely.

“You can leave now, Barnes,” The doctor stated, taking off his gloves and signalling something to the nurses.

“No,” He adjusted his grip, interlacing their fingers even tighter, “I won’t let her do this alone. Not after you’ve just taken her abilities.”

September 6th, 2020

“What do we tell Fury?” Barnes asked as you walked into the compound.

“Not my problem,” You grunted, shoving past him, “Tell him whatever you want.”

You left without another word, not caring that you wouldn’t be there for Fury’s debriefing. You hadn’t found anything. Did you really need to be two people to tell him that?

When you made it to your room, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and stopped. That was another thing you hadn’t gotten used to yet; seeing yourself in the mirror. They hadn’t given you one in your room - your cell. It was almost as if you and the woman in the mirror weren’t the same person. The woman staring back at you looked tired. She didn’t look like she’d been eating three regular meals a day, exercised for hours each week and had a clean room with a bed and a bathroom all to herself. She had bags under her glossy eyes and looked like the only place she wanted to be was curled in bed until everything wrong in her world faded to black. She looked like someone who kept fighting but didn’t know what enemy she was fighting any more. She looked…sad.

You almost punched the mirror but held back. There was no reason to get sidelined from the next mission because you couldn’t control your anger. But you couldn’t stay here; not in this perfect room. You didn’t even bother with shoes and you walked out the door, your feet taking you to the one place on the compound you felt like you could actually breathe. You’d found it during one of your escape attempts the first month you were here. It had been the reason you’d turned around and come back.

When you pushed open the door to the small roof on the back section of some useless wing, you took in the first deep breath all day that didn’t feel like you were fighting against your lungs for more air. The leaves surrounding the immaculately kept lawn were brilliant shades of reds and oranges, set aflame by the setting sun. Here, you could pretend that you lived in some different world where the sharpest knife you’d ever used had only served to cut steak.

The door creaked open and you whipped around, combat ready even though they’d told you multiple times that you were safe here. Barnes stepped out and all that earlier peace turned to tension in your body.

His eyes widened when he saw you. You stared back.

“Sorry,” He ran a hand through his hair, “I didn’t think anyone else came up here. I’ll go.”

“No. I’ll leave.”

Your mood had already been ruined. You could use a shower and then your bed. Unlike the other Avengers who spent their nights chatting away like one big family, there was nothing left for you to do but sleep. He nodded and walked to the far end of the roof, giving you space.

Your hand was on the door handle when he spoke up, “I made a promise to you, do you remember?”

March 3rd, 2020

You shivered, the stone floor cold beneath your skin. You tried to lift your head, but your whole body felt like it had gone through a meat grinder. Even opening your eyes was a task, the blurry slit barely enough for you to know you were in your room. Everything was grey and cold. Nothing felt right.

You couldn’t remember how you’d gotten here. Where was your bed? Where were your clothes? All you could feel was a flimsy nightgown over your underwear. Even then, you weren’t sure. All you knew for sure was that your body was howling in pain, blocking out almost everything else. You tried to clear your mind, but it was like a fog was settling over and you could barely form a coherent thought. You’d just been on a mission…What the hell had happened? Something had gone wrong, very wrong.

Instinctively, you reached for the electric hum inside you, but you couldn’t find it. Panic set in and you desperately reached deep inside, looking for that energy that was a much a part of you as your arm or leg was. You almost blacked out, but finally you found a small kernel of current, its energy fading by the second.

With every inch of strength you had left, you sent a jolt of electricity through your body. The fog cleared, but the pain came in with a black haze of its own. You were aware enough to realize that you’d been dumped on the ground, your bed nowhere to be found. You had done something wrong. This was what happened when you messed up. The thought took you by surprise, memories that didn’t seem to belong to you flickering through your mind.

A resounding bang sent you scrambling to the corner, terrified by what was coming, but you didn’t get far. Your leg didn’t work, and your arm felt like it was on fire, the pain making it hard to breathe. What little you could see, blurred and spun.

“Shit. How the hell is she still conscious?” A deep voice asked.

You tried to get further away, knowing that even if you didn’t recognize the voice that you had to fear it. Odds always were that you did.

“Hey, it’s all right,” A different voice murmured, sounding much closer than the last one. You flinched at his proximity, but he continued on gently, “We’re here to help. I know you have no reason to believe us, but I’m going to need you to trust me. We don’t have much time and I really want to get you out of here.”

You couldn’t be sure that this wasn’t another one of their tricks, but the man’s voice was so soothing and kind that you let yourself believe him. There wasn’t much fight left in you anyways. Not even the sound of gunshots rattled you; not when you were losing a battle to stay conscious.

“I’m going to pick you up now, okay?” He asked as if you could answer.

He waited a moment then slid his hands behind your knees and around your back. The movement made you cry out, but all that came out was a pathetic whimper. He pulled you close, his comfort and warmth enveloping you tightly.

Unable to hold on much longer, you began to slip away, resting your head on his chest. The last you heard before you blacked out completely was his whisper, “I promise you’ll be safe now.”

September 6th, 2020

Despite how much you wanted to leave, you stopped anyways, but refused to turn around, “You never promised me anything, Soldier.”

“The doctors told me that you wouldn’t remember, and I understand that you don’t,” He paused as if he wasn’t sure he should continue, “I promised you that you were safe now. You should know that I did what I did today because I don’t intend on breaking that promise.”

Your breath caught on his words as if you remembered, but you never did. There were blank spots in your memory you’d never get back.

Not wanting him to see the effect of his words, you scoffed, “That’s hard to believe when I’ve put myself in danger multiple times on missions.”

“You can take care of yourself in the field,” He clarified.

You whirled around, “I can take care of myself. Always.”

“I know,” He stared at you, that look filled with more than you knew how to decipher, “But that doesn’t mean you have to.”

“And who put you in charge of me? Because it certainly wasn’t me,” You spat stomping over toward him, “You took me from my home and everything I knew.  I was fine before you came along. You had no right.”

He met you halfway, eyes an icy flame, “I did. I did what was right because I know you. I know you don’t actually want to go back. I see past that anger.”

“Shut up,” You whispered, heart dropping in fear of the direction he was going.

He didn’t back down, “The only reason you think you want to go back is because you don’t know how to live with the guilt of everything you’ve done - of everything you think you’ve become.”

“Shut up,” You snapped, louder this time.

“You hate me and blame me because it’s easier than blaming yourself,” He pushed on, “You hate me because it’s the only steady thing you can hold onto.”

“Shut up!” You felt the panic taking over, your control slipping.  

His voice dropped to a whisper, “I told you that I’d keep you safe, YN, so I’ll take the blame. I’ll let you hate me so that you don’t hate yourself.”

You reacted on instinct, sending electric currents through him like a taser that brought him to his knees. His head bowed between his shoulders, gritting through the pain. When he looked back up at you, he nodded slowly, almost as if to say it was okay and managed to choke out, “What’s a little bit more, right?”

His pathetic little laugh at the end shattered your anger and the current vanished. You’d seen the look in his eyes before - seen it in the mirror whenever you walked past one - that self-hatred for things you knew you’d done and for the ones you couldn’t remember but that you knew could only be worse. You’d known his story. Known he carried all the same things you did. Except you’d refused to believe it at the sight of his smile and the easy way he walked among the Avengers. You’d refused to see that he carried some of your weight for you, knowing perfectly well how crushing it could be.

His blue eyes never dimmed as he watched your intently. They never had. Not from the pain or from every burden he carried with you over the past six months because you couldn’t carry it alone. You didn’t know how to carry it if he wasn’t there helping you. This man…this man you thought of nothing more than your enemy had been the one person fighting for you when you didn’t think you could anymore. He’d gone through what you had and yet you punished him for making it out.

What the hell did that make you?

Your legs gave out, but he caught you before your knees could smash into the ground. He pulled your close, holding you tight in his arms, and for the first time in your life, you let yourself cry; cry for the people you’d hurt, for what you’d done to him and for the person you could have been.

You mumbled apologies over and over even though you knew it would never be enough. He stayed silent, listening, pulling you in even closer whenever he knew you were about to fall apart. A small part of you wanted to push him away, to stay strong, but the woman in the mirror was tired. There was no fight left in her. Not at the moment.

Eventually, when your mumbling was no longer coherent and you were utterly exhausted, you felt him stand, his grip on you never loosening.

You must have fallen asleep because he was placing you on your bed what seemed like seconds later pulling the cool sheets over you. The lack of warmth was jarring, and you curled into a smaller ball, your body shivering from all the crying and the hurt.

“Barnes?” You murmured, stopping him before he could leave your bedroom.

He turned, eyes scanning your body from head to toe as if he could physically see what was wrong, “YN?”

“Stay?” You whispered, your voice raw, “Please.”

He looked at you for a long time, a strange look on his face, “Are you sure?”

The only thing you could manage was, “I’m sorry.”

Barnes nodded and walked over to the bed easing himself onto it, staying far along the edge.

“Please,” You whispered again, unable to tell him exactly what you needed.  

But you didn’t have to. His chest pressed up against your back, his arm draping over your torso and pulling you in closer. Relieved, a shattered breath escaped your mouth at almost the exact moment one did his, and within moments you fell into the deepest sleep of your life.

[geeky-writes]

The Phoenix Project Chapter 15 Preview

Behind? Catch up HERE 😊

Amazing cover art by @crownofstardustandbone @therollingstonys thank you so much! 💖

********

Fresh tears welled in Peter’s eyes, spilling down his face. “But Papa’s gonna suffocate if they don’t get him down soon, and I can’t let that happen, Uncle Bucky, I just can’t! My dad needs him!”

“Sam said that they’re doing everything Tony can think of to try and conserve Steve’s oxygen,” said Uncle Bucky. “The main thing they’re worried about at the moment is that he’s gonna get too cold, so—”

“But lowering his body temp would help him not need as much oxygen,” said Peter. “And it would lower his metabolism a bit too. Maybe they could tell Papa to—”

“Peter, I’m pretty sure they already know that,” Uncle Bucky interrupted. “But since Steve’s controls are completely useless, he can’t do a damn thing except sit there and watch the planet go by beneath him. And he’s still okay at the moment, but if he gets much colder—”

“He won’t be able to stay conscious,” Peter whispered. “And then… even if they do figure out how to get his power back up, he won’t—he won’t be able to—”

Which means I have even less time than I thought.

“Yeah,” agreed Uncle Bucky. “According to Colonel Rhodes Stevie’s already starting to shiver, so… Tony’s afraid he won’t be able to communicate too much longer with him.”

Peter slumped back against his pillows, his fingernails digging into his palms and cringing at the gross rattling sounds that he made with every single inhale. Papa had told him after the trial mission that the only part of being in space that he hadn’t liked was how cold it was, and the thought of his poor papa up there all alone… slowly freezing to death…

I can’t just lie here and do nothing! I have to help him!

“Then I’ve gotta fix it,” he said quietly. “If I can find the buried code that’s causing all the trouble with JARVIS and get rid of it, then JARVIS would be able to come back and Papa could reenter the atmosphere.”

“No, you don't have to fix it,” Uncle Bucky said sternly. “What you need to do is get as much rest as you can so that when Tony does get Steve home, they’ll be able to see you right away. Okay?”

“But—!”

“Nope,” said Uncle Bucky. “Now, since we’ve used up all of our chess time yapping, I think you should take another nap, yeah? Before Ms Sarah comes in here and yells at me?” He leaned forward, shuddering as he lowered his voice. “When Stevie and I were kids she used to yell at me when she thought I was keeping him awake too much, and I don't need to go through that again.”

Peter crossed his arms, sticking out his bottom lip. “Hmph. Fine.”

“Good.” Uncle Bucky got to his feet, patting Peter on the top of his head. “Try not to worry too much, okay, kiddo? We’re not gonna let Stevie die up there without a fight. I promise.”

“Uh huh.”

But as soon as Peter heard Uncle Bucky’s footsteps heading down the hallway, he reached over to the bedside table, grabbing the datapad that he’d left behind. Before the coup, Peter had been able to break through the Air Corps firewall in less than three minutes, so he figured it would be even easier this time.

Which it was. Less than a minute and only a few commands later, Peter had once again broken into the main Air Corps database.

Stifling a yawn, Peter headed straight for the virtual deposit box where Dad had tried to safeguard JARVIS’s programming. Since Peter had designed most of JARVIS in the first place, he already had his own unique set of passwords and encryption codes that allowed him full access to the program without compromising Dad’s information, or even revealing that he was in there in the first place.

All the better to poke around with.

“Okay,” he murmured, his pencil flying around his thumb as he read over the lines of code. Just as he’d suspected, everything that he’d programmed since Dad had installed JARVIS’s initial matrix was perfectly fine, which meant there had to have been some monitoring program installed on his computer way back before he first started that somehow flagged JARVIS as something someone needed to look at.

Which meant that Peter had to go way back to the beginning of JARVIS’s design and search through every single line of code for anything out of the ordinary.

It was long, tedious work, made even worse by the fact that Peter couldn't seem to keep his tired eyes open for longer than about fifteen minutes at a time. It wasn't until after he’d eaten dinner and taken yet another nap that he managed to finally stumble upon a coding line that didn't seem to fit with his usual methodology. Dad had always told Peter that every person who wrote code had their own rather unique “coding language”, kind of like how each person’s handwriting was just a bit different from everyone else’s, and there was one line inserted about thirty lines from the bottom that on second glance, just didn't seem to fit.

The line that ended with the command: ЦLtЯ0П

“Ultron?” Peter whispered, narrowing his eyes at the odd-looking command. “What’re you up to…?” He tapped in a few more commands, trying to decipher what this Ultron’s base command code was, but all he could find was that single code.

Whoever had inputted Ultron into the matrix had only figured out how to halt JARVIS’s commands, not actually replace him.

But now that JARVIS was halted, that meant it was probably only a matter of time before someone tried to get Ultron to replace him.

Peter tipped his head back, inhaling a deep breath through his nose. Grandma had increased both his oxygen flow and the dosage of one of his medicines earlier in the day, worried about his increasing heart rate, and the last thing Peter wanted was to somehow alert her to what he was doing.

Suddenly the entire screen went blank, returning about three seconds later back at the same place where Peter had started. Peter bit down hard on his lip as he tapped in various commands, checking on both his father’s and grandfather’s passwords, and finding nothing.

Someone was attempting to mess with the code, and it wasn’t Dad. And since no one had seen Grandpa in weeks, Peter was pretty sure it wasn’t him either.

“Then I’ve gotta stay ahead of them,” Peter said. He pushed himself up to a sitting position and cracked his knuckles, taking a quick peek at the door to make sure no one was coming. Uncle Sam and Uncle James were still at the base, no doubt trying to help Dad in any way that they could, and Uncle Bucky was sitting out in the living room with Grandma trying to offer her support. Ms Sharon would be stopping by to check on him soon, once her shift at the hospital was over, but at the moment, Peter was unsupervised.

“Oh, you think you're smarter than me, do ya?” he murmured, scrunching his nose as his fingers began flying across the datapad. “Well, let’s just see about that, hmm? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure that you're wrong. I’m one of Langara’s best-kept secrets.”

And now, Papa’s life was depending on him.

The full chapter will post on Monday, July 6th 😊

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Sick Little Games: Twenty- One

Clint ultimately had had a rather enjoyable morning. It had started with sweet kisses and slow snuggly lovemaking and culminated in creating a minor PR disaster for SHIELD. 

But he’d enjoyed his little counter-protest. Aided and abetted by Thor, Bruce, Sam, Tony, Nat, and several other SHIELD agents that were tired of out of tune hymns and their Witchling not going outside. It had created enough negative attention for the church that Stirling Cole, your stepfather had called for a parlay of sorts.

Clint looked from the bed where you lay, sound asleep, and back in the mirror. At the black eye, he’d gotten when he’d tried to grab you before you could pull Stirling’s throat out in front of the TV cameras. “Worth it,” he said, satisfied. 

“Really worth it,” he amended, looking down at your feet. Cut and still bleeding, though they were healing. Not, perhaps, as rapidly as Bucky or Steve, but even faster than Clint would recover after walking barefoot across hellfire. 

Which, contrary to what Clint had thought, hadn’t burnt you but had left the present gnarly cuts. 

It was all a bit of a blur, really. They’d started by drowning out the protestors by very, very loudly playing the national anthem. That had pissed the protestors off quite a bit. The cacophony had brought you outside, which had riled the protestors up. Rocks started flying. They threw fucking stones at you.

Clint had been furious but nothing. Nothing. Compared to when you slowly turned, blood running down the side of your face and started walking forward. Traffic in front of the tower had ground to a halt due to all the spectators. It had happened in slow motion. Rocks flew, but none of them seemed to land, and you smiled. Or at least. You showed your teeth. And Clint knew, damn well that the face you were making was one countless HYDRA goons had seen before they died. “Oh shit,” he muttered, starting to follow you.

But out of nowhere, fire. The fucking green light created a separation between you and the protestors. Clint looked up to see Strange standing on a balcony out of sight trying to summon something to stop your inevitable progress forward. “Bless him,” Natasha said, “He thinks that’s going to stop her.”

Kill mode was unstoppable. At least. Mostly. You wouldn’t care about Damage to yourself. And that much was clear as you clawed your way through the green flames, unphased by the cuts they left. 

“She’s gonna kill him,” Clint said, “Fuck- Thor-”

But the demigod needed no more prompting. He might agree with you that the man SHOULD be killed, but he knew you couldn’t be SEEN to do it. He rushed forward and wrapped his arms around you quickly, thankful for his sturdy boots. And grateful that “kill mode” as Stark had dubbed it, was only dangerous to your immediate target. He’d once thought it berserker like rage but, Bruce was quick to dissuade him of that. Bruce pegged it as a response to trauma. And Thor agreed. Mostly.

“Witchling,” he rumbled, grunting as you attempted to squirm out of his arms, “Be still.” You radiate pain. Pain and Fear, and Anger. A thousand different memories rush through you, and you just... can’t. You can’t manage it all. Stories about what should happen to anyone who doesn’t obey their god. The sting of a belt against your ass and thighs for whatever infraction. Your elation at the warm sand in California turning to panic as the sunset, and it started to get cold. Foster care. Going hungry. Stealing packs of ramen to eat while you were running. Peggy Carter. A job offer. And then a van. And searing fucking pain. Endless fucking pain as these “SHIELD” ass holes played around with your genetic code. But you didn’t care because you were fed. And warm. And someone finally showed you how to control your powers. You were never enough. Never. It didn’t matter what you did. How obedient you were or how many people you saved. You were nothing. Evil. Dirty. As if you had asked for any of this.

Clint could hear you screaming. There weren’t even words. Just screams. And he blinked back tears. It sounded like Thor was killing you, but. Anyone that had seen you wake up in medical knew that wasn’t this sound. He rushed forward and reached up carefully, trying to remind you that you were okay. And help Thor keep a hold of you. You’d worked an arm free, and the Asgardian was struggling. Even if you weren’t trying to hurt him, you could still be dangerous. 

When your elbow caught his eye, Clint took the opportunity to grab your hand. “Y/N,” he said softly, “Baby. Please. Let us help. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I was trying to make it stop.”

You reached for him, and he held his arms out tenderly, “It’s okay,” he murmured, ignoring the pain in his head. He held you against him. His heartbreaking with every stuttering breath. Your fingers curled in the soft fabric of his jacket. “It hurts,” you pant. 

“I know, sweetheart,” he said softly, picking you up when he noticed you standing in a pool of blood from the cuts on your feet. “I’m sorry.”

He knew you didn’t want him to apologize but, he didn’t know what else to say. “Thor,” Clint muttered, “Help me get her inside. No one can see what’s happening now, but she can’t walk back over all this.” Thor grunted and nodded, bashing Mjolnir against the flames to get them out of the way so the archer could carry you.

Clint shifts your weight gently and follows after, pressing soft kisses against your hair when you whimper. “I know,” he soothes, “Shhh. We’ll get you inside, okay?”

“Your eye,” you murmur.

“I’m okay,” he reassures gently, “I know you didn’t mean to. You’d never hurt me on purpose.”

“I love you,” you murmur, swallowing hard. 

“I know,” he says gently, “You love me so much. You didn’t want to hurt anyone... Except for Stirling. And he deserves it. But we can’t let you tear his throat out on live TV baby. We can’t.”

Thor growled next to him, and Clint half smiled, “See, Thor can get away with it. Because he’s big. And not human. But it’s a bad look if we let the sweetest Avenger go around killing preachers on TV.”

“I’m a monster,” you whisper. Clint stops walking, and Thor stops mid-swing, stopping to look at you.

“My lady,” he said quietly, aware that his voice could carry, “I have fought monsters. You are not a monster, Witchling. You’re not what they all did to you to try and tear you asunder. You are kind. And Just. Powerful and sometimes rightfully very scary, but you are not a monster, my darling.” 

“All I took away from that is that Thor is scared of you,” Clint teased, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when you huffed a laugh. 

Thor smirked a little and brushed his fingers against your hair affectionately. “Maybe a little,” he teased, “Her knowledge of song lyrics is prodigious and not of this Earth.”

_______

Clint leaned on the door frame, thankful that Lucky was curled between your knees and your belly, and Jinx had taken up her spot behind your knees. You were warm and stuck. Unable to move without disturbing your snoozing fur babies. 

Satisfied you’d be okay for a few minutes, he slipped downstairs. You needed water. And food. And he was hungry. 

He was halfway through putting together some food. Lots of spicy, salty snacks for you and some sweet stuff for him. A couple sodas. Sandwiches. And some frozen fruit. Anything he thought you might want when Natasha leaned over and inspected his eye.

“How you feel?” she asked. The implication, Clint knew, was her asking if you’d meant to do that.

“Fine,” Clint said placatingly, “I caught an elbow trying to help Thor keep hold of her.”

“Kill mode?”

“Yeah,” he sighed.

Natasha winced, “I heard her screaming. It made the hair stand up on the back of my neck. I hate it.”

“I know,” Clint said, rubbing his neck, “But... she’s- she’s okay. Mostly. Freaking out because she hurt us. But she’s healing.”

The spy quirks an eyebrow, “Us?”

“She bit Thor trying to get loose. Didn’t break the skin, but there was a real pretty bruise.”

“Damn.”

Clint smirked, “You should have seen my shoulder when she got done with me last week.”

Natasha rolled her eyes but smiled a little. “Only you, Barton,” she huffed.

“You love me,” he says.

“I do,” she admitted, “I’m just glad everything’s okay because... they wanna see her.”

“Who does?” Clint asked cautiously.

“Her mom. And stepdad... Tony threatened charges for property damage. And assault since they hit her with a rock,” she explained.

“And they want her to stop it?”

The spy nodded, and Clint shrugged, “Tough shit,” he said, “She’s asleep. And she’s had enough. She’s gonna stay that way until she’s ready to be up and about.”

Natasha nodded, “I’ll go tell Tony that their Parlay will have to wait.” She wasn’t going to argue. Clint had a point. Putting you back in front of them when you felt raw like this was only gonna make a bigger mess.

_________

Peggy slid a cup of tea across the table to Steve and he smiled his thanks, “Peg, I don’t know what I’m gonna do,” he said, “Bucky just will not let this go.”

She gave him a sympathetic smile and sighed, “Since when does he let anything go?”

“This is different though. It’s vindictive. And all Y/N did was quietly harbor a crush none of us even knew about.”

“That is an accomplishment, given how many spies are in that building,” she said, impressed. 

“Y/N is a good girl,” Steve said, “But Peg, if he keeps pushing on her and she snaps, there’s no one in that building that could save him- Maybe Barton but. Let’s be honest, he’d not stop her.”

She smirked, “No. I don’t think he would. Not if he’s the Clint I remember.”

“He’s worse where she’s concerned,” Steve said rolling his eyes, “No common sense.”

“Well,” she said shrugging, “When someone feels like home, you don’t really want to let them go.”

“That’s true,” he sighed, “But still.”

“But nothing,” she laughed, “What’s the betting pool up to on the proposal?”

Steve smirked, “Sam and I stand to split a pretty chunk of change if he does it on Christmas... Natasha is gonna take it if he does it for Halloween. Bruce swears he’s gonna do it next time they’re on a mission together before he even has a ring.”

Peggy grinned, “I’d say Bruce has the right idea. If he plans anything he won’t go through with it.”

Steve shook his head and gave her an apologetic smile picking up his ringing phone, “Roger- They did what?” he barked.

Peggy sat up a little straighter, eager for some gossip.

“Was anyone hurt?” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No. No. Just- yeah. Alright.”

He hung up the phone and groaned, “Clint lobbed a counter-protest,” he explained, “Kill mode happened and now Y/N feet are cut up and CLint has a black eye from trying to help Thor grab hold of her.”

“Fucking hell,” she groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose.

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[buckysrighthanddoll]

Look In My Eyes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Reader

Warnings: slight angst, mentions of PTSD, PTSD episode, a shit ton of fluff :)

The first time he saw her, his mind went silent. The ever-calculating, always strategizing, overly cautious Bucky Barnes experienced mental silence for the first time since he was a young boy. It was like she had a magical remote control and had hit the mute button, and all he could even think about was how gorgeous she was. And even then, he couldn’t actually comprehend how the universe had put someone as stunning as her in his line of sight.

And, later that night, when Steve had introduced her to him, Bucky had actually been as suave and charming as he was back in the 40s. He said all the right things, made her smile so much that her cheeks hurt, and fell in love with the laugh that resembled one of those cartoon-like magic wand sounds. Or maybe windchimes. He didn’t know. It was all so gentle yet bright and happy. He could listen to it all day.

The second time he saw her, he was dumbfounded. It was three in the morning, and there she was, in the kitchen of the compound, a cup of tea in hand as she listened to calming music. Her hair was messy, she had on no makeup, she was in a hoodie and sleeping shorts, but she was still the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen.

Bucky didn’t even know that she was a part of the team, and that’s because she was just recruited officially. Tony had Steve train her for the past year while she worked hard to contain her powers. He asked her what she was doing up, she said that she couldn’t sleep, and they talked until they both tired out and went to bed. He had a newfound respect for his teammate; she had PTSD and experienced insomnia and nightmares due to it, and Bucky related a little too hard. He didn’t know what this new feeling was inside of his chest--it was a fluttering, a burning, and a chill all at once.

Sam told him it was his cold, icy heart feeling love for once.

The third time he saw her, they were training together. Steve mandated a team session, and she stood shyly around the mat, next to Steve. Her eyes were trained on Sam and Natasha, who were going at it at the moment. And when Steve called her to the mat to fight Wanda (no powers allowed, girls), (Y/N) looked up at Bucky with a small smirk. She took Wanda down quickly. (Y/N) used what Bucky would consider a signature Natasha move, throwing herself onto Wanda’s shoulders and using that momentum to flip Wanda onto her back and pretending to snap her neck. Wanda smiled up at (Y/N), and (Y/N) smiled down at Wanda before helping her up.

Bucky was ridiculously attracted to her already, but that just made him even more attracted.

“(Y/N)--” Steve started, and then he looked to his best friend with a prideful smirk. “--and Bucky.” Heat rose to the man’s face as he stepped onto the mat next to this beautiful woman. She looked nervous, his experience of people-reading told him that much. Her body stance exuded confidence, but he knew that she was faking it. “And, (Y/N), powers are allowed,” Steve added. (Y/N)’s demeanor changed entirely. Where she was once faking confidence, she now showed anxiety and nerves.

“Steve, I don’t think--”

“It’s okay,” Bucky said. He didn’t know why she didn’t want to use her telekinesis or electric powers, but he knew that the last thing she would do is hurt him.

She steps off of the mat and speaks to Steve in a hushed whisper, and then he excuses her to leave the session. Bucky looks at his friend with confusion before assigning someone else to spar with him.

After Steve says that they’re done for the day, Bucky seeks her out. It took all of five minutes to find her in her room, door locked and silence on the other side. He gives three quick raps on the metal, but no answer ensued. He enters her code and opens the door slowly, not expecting the sight in front of him.

Numerous small objects floated in the room, some sparks surrounding various ones. (Y/N) laid on her back in the middle of her bed, her arms stretched out to the sides with her palms face-up. Her eyes were closed, but not peacefully. They were squeezed shut, and labored breaths passed--in through the nose, out through the mouth.

Bucky takes one step, and her eyes snap open. The objects clatter to the floor, no longer suspended by her. Eyes are wide, and tears are threatening to spill. “Please, no. I-I didn’t know that they were--please, no, no,” She pleaded, fear laced through each and every word. He realizes the look on her face, and he can tell that wherever she is, it isn’t here.

“Sweetheart, where are you?” He asks.

“Red--re--” The words can’t seem to pass her lips, so she panics more when Bucky takes another step toward the bed. “No! Please, no.”

He suspected that she was a part of the Red Room. That she had been tortured endlessly and that she was terrified that Bucky was going to hurt her. His heart broke for her.

“I’m not going to hurt you, sweetheart,” Bucky cooed, sitting on the bed. “Look at me, doll.”

Her eyes shut and she turned her face away, a hot tear falling. He gently places a hand on her knee, making her jerk at first, but she allows the contact. “I don’t want to go, please don’t make me go,” She begs. Her voice is just barely above a whisper. Her eyes open and look up to him, and Bucky feels his heart drop into his stomach.

“(Y/N), look in my eyes,” Bucky says, matching his tone to hers. He moves one hand up to cup her face, and although she remains rigid, she doesn’t flinch, and he supposes that’s a start. “You aren’t there anymore, sweetheart. You’re in New York with me. You’re safe. You’re having an episode, babygirl, that’s all it is.” The words at least make a dent, but they don’t fully register. “Breath with me, okay?” Bucky asks. She nods and together they breathe slowly, grounding her back, back to reality, back to now, back to here, back to him.

Her hand slowly reaches up to grasp his own, and she presses it closer to her cheek. It’s slightly damp and it feels like she’s on fire, but she’s coming back.

(Y/N) looks into his eyes, and she comes back from the Red Room, and she gets utterly lost in his pools of blue. She swallows hard and then nods to tell Bucky that she’s okay, that she knows she’s safe.

“Thank you,” She mutters. He gives a sad half-smile and brings her into him, soothing her anxious mind. “It was the Red Room.”

“Tortured?”

She shakes her head and sighs. “I was the torturer.” This takes Bucky aback slightly, but he doesn’t let her feel it. “They forced me to do it. I have these abilities and I hate them so much because all they have ever brought is pain. Buck, I don’t want to hurt anybody who doesn’t deserve it.”

“I understand, (Y/N),” He tells her. And he really does. He was the Asset, once upon a time, and he still hasn’t healed. “You’re not that person, doll. You are who you choose to be, and that is a strong, beautiful, pure woman who can do anything she sets her mind to.”

“Anything?” She asks, slight confidence to her voice. He nods her head and notices how she leans in closer to him, slowly, slowly, slowly. He looks at her lips, slightly red from her biting on them, so perfect, so inviting. She presses her lips to his gently, making sure that he could back out at any moment. He doesn’t. In fact, he presses just a little harder, moving his lips in sync with hers, sweet like strawberries, soft like silk, pure, innocent, but passionate all at once. His senses are flooded with her, her, her.

He smiles when she pulls away, pressing her forehead to his. He looks into her eyes, and he is lost, yet he knows exactly where he is.

They look into each other’s eyes many times after. Before they kiss, when he takes her to dinner, the first time they wake up next to each other. It feels fresh every time. It was something new, something different and perfect in so many ways.

Five years later, she turns to face him, so close, yet so far away. The white of her dress makes her skin glow, even more so with the light makeup. Her hair frames her face, the flowers in her hand provided something for her to fidget with. The rows of people stand and take pictures and stare in awe, but neither of them notices. She walks down the aisle, arm looped through Tony’s, one painfully slow step at a time.

Bucky’s hair is shorter now, his face is clean-shaven, and he looks youthful. The spark of love has been there longer than five years, but that smile that he wears now was unlike one that she had ever seen. She and Tony stop right at the altar--well, the garden entrance outside of the compound--and he kisses her forehead before handing her to Bucky.

When it came time for the vows, she nearly cries as Bucky speaks. “I have never believed in fate. Things have never happened for a reason, no God has ever handed me anything--except that time Thor gave me some of his liquor. But, the night I first looked into your eyes, something changed. It might not have been divine intervention, but the universe decided that we should at least meet. And, shit, I’m so glad that it did. (Y/N), you make me feel human. Like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be. And I thank whatever God or Goddess might be listening, because I’m so in love with you, and my only goal in life is to make you feel as happy as you’ve made me.”

She gives her vows (and Bucky actually sheds a tear, off the record) and they are pronounced as husband and wife.

As they share their first dance as a married couple, they look into each other’s eyes. The amount of happiness that each one feels is indescribable and pure and eternal.

The first time he saw her, his mind went silent. The first time she saw him, she heard the voices of angels pushing her to speak to him. It may not have been divine intervention, no, but they were each other’s deity, and that was more than enough.

[notyetneedcoffee]

Number Cannot Be Reached

Part Five of the Calling Series

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Naughty, Naughty Smut!

You stood in front of the door, biting your lower lip and staring at the message on your phone. You'd been up for hours debating whether or not this could wait until morning. Waking up Steve Rogers in the middle of the was not something you wanted to do. Still, every instinct in your being screamed to do something.

Taking a deep breath, you rapped on the door a couple times and stood back to wait. It only took a moment for Cap to open the door wearing old sweatpants and a tank. He looked half asleep until he got a look at you. His eyes perked up and he stood a little straighter.  

"Y/N," his voice sounded rough with sleep. "Are you okay?"

"I'm really sorry to bother you, but I just need to..." you stalled, not sure how to explain the problem without opening a can of worms.  

“Wait,” he stepped aside. “Please, come in. Sit down.”

Moving over to the sofa, you lowered yourself onto the edge of the seat. “I’m really sorry to wake you, Steve.”

“It’s alright.” He joined you on the sofa. “What’s wrong?”

“Okay,” You rubbed your forehead. “I know that I don’t have clearance to know what Bucky is doing on some of his missions.”

“I don’t really care what he tells you. I trust his judgement.” He shrugged.

“Thanks for that.” You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. The frown returned quickly. “Thing is, I don’t know what he’s doing this time or where he is. I need to know if you do.”

“Why?”  

“We’ve worked out keeping in touch. Codes for texts. Call times.” You turned in your seat to face him. “This morning he didn’t answer. I send a message, but he never answered. Then he never called when he was supposed to call tonight.”

“Y/N, I’m sure that...”

You cut him off. “Steve, when I tried to call after he didn’t call me, I got this message.”  

Showing him the phone, he read ‘This number cannot be reached. The number may have been disconnected or is no longer in service.’

“I know enough about Tony’s infrastructure. That message would only show up if someone deleted his phone from Stark’s database, if the satellite is totally down, or if someone is ghosting his communications.”

Steve handed you back your phone, his face growing hard.

“I’m right, aren’t I? Something is wrong.” You found yourself holding the phone close to your chest. “Bucky would have told me if he was burning his number. He would have sent a message. Hell, we have a plan for that.”

“What?” Steve stood up to get his own phone from the kitchen counter. “What plan?”

“If I need him and he’s not supposed to communicate, I have a burner phone that I’m supposed to use to text him a bogus confirmation. If it’s medical, I send a prescription refill confirmation. If it’s something here in the tower, I send a spa confirmation. If it’s something else and I need him to call, I send a package delivery confirmation. He uses the same ones, but if he’s going off the grid, he sends me a cancellation of services confirmation. If we use C to confirm in the message, then we can call the burner phone. If we use a number to confirm, then there’s no contact.”

“Wow. You guys have it covered.” Steve dialed the two numbers he had for Bucky. Both kicked back the same message. “Okay, yeah. Something’s not right.”

“Steve. I’m not supposed to know. Bucky wasn’t supposed to set up our communication like he did.” You slumped back into the seat. “I know you’re going to go do everything you can, and I don’t want to put you in a bad situation-”

His hand rubbed your shoulder. “I’m going to make sure you’re kept in the loop. In fact, I’ll go have a talk with Tony about your clearance.”

“Thank you.” You got up and he held out his arms for a tight hug.  

“Try to get some rest. Keep those phones close.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I’ll let you know as soon as I have anything.”

As soon as you left, Steve threw on some clothes before leaving for the command room. The halls were empty and dark, only the building’s AI lighting his way. Upon entering the command room, default start up protocols began booting computers and turning on monitors.  

“Good morning, Captain.” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice filled the room. “How may I be of assistance?”

“I need an update on Bucky and Clint’s mission.”

“According to their last communique, they tracked Mihov to Tasucu, Turkey anticipating he would lead them to the target within 24 hours.”

“Can you reach Barton?” Steve leaned on the smart table.  

“Agent Barton’s telephone has been deactivated.”

“Other means?”

“No, Captain. His computer’s satellite connection is offline. There are no other mobility devices assigned for this mission.”

“Dammit.”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., begin bio-locator protocol for Agency Barton and Seargent Barnes, authorization Rogers two-one-papa-six-juliet.”

“Yes, Captain. Search in progress.”

He moved to the window, looking out at the night sky. Twenty-four hours. They’d dealt with longer periods off line. At least they had a solid time frame of their disappearance, thanks to the communications arrangement Bucky set up. Still, a lot of ground could be covered in that amount of time.  

“What the hell has you up at this seriously un-godly hour?” Tony walked in.  

“Clint and Buck are missing.” Steve frowned. “Somehow their phones, everything are totally unresponsive to the network.”

“What?” Tony called up a virtual screen, flying through data and system architecture at a pace that made Steve dizzy. “Son of a bitch.”

Cap just gave him a ‘what’ look.

“They weren’t destroyed. I have a damage report protocol on all our toys. They’re not just powered off. I can power them up from here. They’ve just been, wiped. Whoever did this knew what would trigger an alert and how to make them unreachable.” Tony turned fully to Steve. “How did you know?”

Steve lowered himself in a chair. “Y/N.”

He explained the system you and Bucky worked out. Tony chuckled. “Well, the Doc has it down.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “We need to talk about her security clearance.”

“Hey,” Tony held up his hands. “I’m the last one to bitch. Do you have any idea how much Pepper knows? That woman could run the world if she wanted to. I’ll back you. Whatever you want to let her in on.”

“We’re going to need to send in an extraction team as soon as we have a location.” Steve chewed his lip.

Tony sighed. “You take care of it. Take whomever you need. I’ll give Rhody a call and we can take care of the Senators.” He tossed a sarcastic grin. “I’ll take them to lunch and watch them have a coronary when I act like I’m going to slide them the bill.”

“Thanks, Tony.”  

“No problem, Cap.” He typed in a few more commands on the interface. “This will kick of the detailed analysis of their mission so far. Locations, contacts, all of it. If you run into anything F.R.I.D.A.Y. can’t provide, have her call me.”

“I will.”

“You going to tell the Doc what’s going on, or wait until you have something?”

“I think she’d rather deal with the facts than be left wondering.” Steve sighed. “I’ll call her.”

o o o o o  

You curled around Bucky’s pillow, but sleep would not come. There could be no doubt that Bucky was counted among the most dangerous people in the world, one of the greatest survivors ever. If something bad happened, every logical argument could be made that if anyone would, survive, Bucky would. You should not be so worried.

Flopping over on your back you stared at the ceiling. Waiting sucked. Doing nothing sucked worse. You weren’t a soldier, or a strategist, or even a technician. Being a doctor proved to be no help in this situation. Waiting sucked balls.

Giving up on sleep altogether, you got up. Pulling on your yoga pants and one of Bucky’s sweatshirts, you moved to the sofa and flipped on the television. It turned on to one of the movie channels. You smiled at the scene.

Inigo Montoya fought Wesley, as the Dread Pirate Roberts, on top of the Cliffs of Insanity.  

You’d shown Bucky this movie a few weeks ago. He laughed at the Pit of Despair and thought Wesley should have just killed Humperdinck. Even explaining it was essentially a children's story, didn’t make a difference. The Prince should have died.

It’d been a great night, relaxed, and curled up on the sofa. He’d always been fine with casual touches in public, a hand on your back, touches on your shoulders, even a chaste kiss. But when you were alone Bucky had two speeds, full on fuck me mode or endless cuddles, No in between. You really wanted to be wrapped in his embrace.  

Lost deep in thought you physically jumped when the phone rang. You answered immediately. “Steve.”

“Hey, Y/N. You were right. The mission went sideways. I’m pulling the team together. If you want to hear what’s going on get up to the command briefing room. Do you know where?”

“Eighty-sixth floor. That’s all I know, I don’t have clearance to be up there.”

“You do now.” Steve assured you. “How long will you be? I can meet you at the elevators.”

“I’m leaving the apartment now.”

As you stepped off the elevator on the high security floor, Steve wrapped his arms around you again, whispering in your ear. “Don’t worry. I’ll bring him home, no matter what.”

“Thanks.” You squeezed him back.  

“Come on.”

You walked into the room where Sam, Natasha, Wanda and Vision waited. They all looked at you with a bit of shock, all except Sam. He got up and met you half way across the room, giving you a brief hug. “Hey Doc, how you holding up?”

“I’m... okay.” You sat down in the seat Steve held out for you.  

“Captain Rogers,” Vision spoke up. “I was not aware that Dr. Y/L/N held a sufficient security clearance for this briefing.”

“Vision.” Wanda shook her head with a roll of her eyes. “Sorry, Y/N.”

“She does now.” Steve answered Vision. “In fact, her clearance has been increased beyond this briefing.”

“Very well.” Vision nodded a greeting your way.  

Over the next hour you learned everything about the mission, who Bucky and Clint were chancing down and why. It turned your stomach to think they were searching for someone who was selling reverse engineered space weapons to the highest bidder. Apparently, things went wrong somewhere on the coast of Turkey approximately nineteen hours ago.  

“Captain Rogers.” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice interrupted. “I have narrowed down the location of Agent Barton and Sergeant Barnes.”

“Report.”

The AI projected satellite footage of a small town, on the outskirts of which were a complex of modern warehouse and ancient stone buildings. It was approximately one hundred miles inland from where they were last reported.  

The team listened to a detailed breakdown of the area and all potential threats. They asked questions, formulated a search and extraction plan. You barely heard any of it. Your eyes were focused on the image. Bucky was there somewhere.

“Suit up.” Steve stood. “We leave in fifteen.”

He stopped at your seat, “Y/N, do you want to come with us? You can stay at the safe house.”

“Okay.” You stood up, taking a deep breath. “I may not be a trauma doctor, but I could be of use in a pinch.”

“It’s not going to come to that.” Steve squeezed your shoulder.  

o o o o o  

You paced around the room. The clean minimalist design gave you nothing to focus on. Out in the middle of nowhere, Stark’s safe house looked like any other rich industrial mansion, but the interior held secret garages, a quinjet bay, and subterranean levels full of labs, storage and medical bays.  

A tone alerted you to the landing of the quinjet. You ran down to the bay entrance, waiting for the jet to land and the outer doors to close. As the rear ramp to the quinjet lowered, you ran out.  

Natasha and Wanda pushed Clint out on a stretcher. He was unconscious, filthy and had several fresh trauma dressings applied. Steve and Bucky came down next. Your eyes looked on him. A trauma dressing was wrapped around his right arm.  

His blue eyes went from confusion to an unreadable intensity. He strode forward taking your face in his hands and kissing you hard.  

“Doc!” Natasha yelled. “Barton needs help!”

You pulled away from Bucky, eyes locked on his. “Med Room! I’m coming!” You turned and followed them at a run.  

Natasha helped you cut away the clothes from his wounds. He had a gunshot wound to the left shoulder and wound to the back of his head. Evidence of restraint and abuse littered his body.  

“The shoulder is a through and through.” Natasha reported.  

“Okay, let’s focus on the head wound.” You checked his pupils, they were even. Good. Beginning to pull out the mobile scanners, you directed Nat to help you get set up. Soon you confirmed he was lucky. No sub cranial swelling. No skull fractures.  

You had Nat start him on an IV while you began suturing up his head wound. All you could do was stabilize his shoulder and temporarily close up the wound.  

“Y/N?” Steve came in.  

“He’s going to be fine. Lost a lot of blood. He should come around now that we’re getting fluids in him. No lasting head trauma that I can assess with what I have. I’ve immobilized the shoulder, he’s going to need an orthopedic in there sooner than later. He will be okay to fly as soon as we get his pressure back up.” You reported.

“Good.” Steve stepped a little closer. “As soon as you’re done your other patient won’t let anyone else touch him.”

You looked up into Steve’s eyes. Something between worry and amusement looked back at you. “He okay?”

“He thanked me for bringing you, and told me he was going to beat my ass for doing it.” Steve half smiled. “He’s going to need his arm cleaned and taped up until it heals. He wouldn’t let me do it.”

“Okay, I’ll be right there.” You pulled off your latex gloves.  

You found Bucky in a room down the hall. It was just like any other basic examine room with an exam table, a wall cabinets, a counter with a sink and more storage. There were no windows, being underground. You locked the door when you came in.

As soon as the lock clicked over, he was on you.  

Bucky’s hands buried in your hair. His mouth crashed into yours, desperately drinking down your kiss. Tongues and teeth, you met his need with your own. He smelled of dirt, sweat and gunpowder. Still, you wanted to drink him down.

His powerful body pinned you to the door, thigh pressing between your legs and practically lifting you off your feet. You pulled at his shirt, desperate for even more contact. Bucky leaned back enough to pull the shirt over his head.  

“Your arm.”  

“Later.” Bucky growled as he tugged your clothes off. “Need you.”

His mouth latched onto your neck. Your breasts pressed into his chest, skin hot. The sound of his breath, the feel of skin, the press of his body, it anchored that he was safe. He was here, in your arms, setting you on fire.  

Bucky dropped to his knees, laying wet open mouth kisses across your belly as he undid and pushed down you pants. You toed off your shoes and he tossed your clothes away. The intense look in his eyes, as he ran his hands up your thighs, over your hips, your breath hitched.

He guided your right leg over his shoulder and growled as his mouth descended on your wet cunt. Bucky’s tongue delved between your folds, lapping up your honey. He sucked roughly at your clit, causing your back to arch and mewls of pleasure to pour from your mouth.

“Oh shit, Bucky.” You panted. “Need you. Yes.”

He suddenly stood, lifting you off your feet and planting your ass on the table. Bucky didn’t even loose the rest of his clothes, he just released his cock. You reached down, stroking him hard. He moaned, pulling you by the hair to possess your mouth again. Hitching your leg over his hip, you rubbed the head of his cock against your wet cunt. He growled.

Grabbing your ass, Bucky pushed into you. Inch by inch, you savored every sensation. The stretch, the weight. Your hands gripped his hair, teeth nipped his lip. “Fuck me, Buck. Hard.”

A raw feral sound erupted from his chest. His fingers dug into your ass, cock slamming into you with raw power. Yes. You just held on. Bucky’s groans and growled breaths filled your ears. “Fuck. Yes. Mine.”  

“Yes!” Fear, worry, anger exploded into overwhelm need. Pleasure tinged with pain swirled through your core, flooding your body in heat. Legs shaking. Fingers pulling at his hair. Skin slapped on skin. Your orgasm hit you hard, fast, sending a flood over Bucky’s cock. He pound into deep as you clenched around him.  

“Oh, shit, yes, Doll.” He panted. Buck press into you hard, hold you against him as he came. “Oh, fuck, yes!”

You clung to each other, not wanting to let go. Your breath slowed. Bucky’s lips trailed gentle kisses along your neck and shoulder. Tears you’d been holding back began to fall, only now they ran down your cheeks with relief.  

Still holding you tight to his chest, Bucky whispered. “How are you here?”

“Steve.” You sighed, rubbing your nose along his neck. “I went to him.”

“I need to thank him,” he breathed. “Then I’m kicking his ass for bringing you into the field.”

The laugh bubbled up from your toes.  

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[queenitn]

So...I just found something that I'd written one night at like 4am a month into lockdown.

It's pretty much a very unnecessarily angry rant.

I can probably contradict half the stuff I say in it myself. It's just...kinda rude in places and when I'm thinking straight there's some parts I don't really agree with myself. It's not aimed at anybody and I'm definitely a hypocrite but I'm gonna post it anyways so go wild I guess.

So I recently took a stroll through Stucky fanfiction on ao3. For a while there I'd been avoiding it, and I'd nearly convinced myself that my mind was exaggerating the whole bottom!Bucky/top!Steve thing but yeah, I'm not.

Normally, I'd say who tops or bottoms doesn't matter. It's pretty irrelevant. But... since the majority of the fanfictions clearly prefer to write bottom!Bucky, obviously, there is some significance. Wouldn't the proportion be more equal if it truly was irrelevant?

Besides being annoying as fuck, it's also pretty interesting I guess. I have nothing else to do so I'm going to be ranting about a lot of stuff.

So, I mostly try to look for bottom!Steve, right? Because that's what I like. I read a bottom!Steve fic, then I say, "Hmm, this author seems to like bottom!Steve, maybe they've written more?" I go check, and I find...mostly bottom!Bucky, with maybe one or two more bottom!Steve.

It's fine the first few times, but after a while it's honestly weird. Clearly, a lot of very good authors have no problem writing bottom!Steve. They just happen to write more bottom!Bucky. As far as I can tell, that's pretty much the common trend. But why? What exactly does one think while starting a new fic, going all, "Hmm...I think...this time.... we're gonna have bottom!Bucky again." Again and again and again until it's most times.

Why is bottom!Steve so fetishized? I don't mean the fics that actually have a dom/sub element. I mean just pure bottom!Steve itself. Why does it have to be some sort of rarity?

As far as I know, there's...really nothing in canon indicating who would likely top or bottom. (I mean yeah, I do believe that canon Bucky is more likely to want to dom than canon Steve, but that's different.)

So, what is it?

Sure, Steve is taller, has a deeper voice, more muscle, a beard....but those are just physical things. They don't actually have anything to do with taking or giving.

Besides, he used to be small before. Is that what this is about? Previously tiny man likes to be in control? Likes to...what? Prove he's a manlier man? Bullshit. Besides the fact that it's bullshit, it also doesn't seem to fit with canon Steve.

The "Sometimes I think you like getting punched" and the "And you've got nothing to prove" make me think that his proving himself had less to do with showing his dominance and more to do with showing his endurance. I'd say bottoming is exactly what he'd want to do.

Besides, wasn't that exactly what made his relationship with Bucky special? The fact that he didn't have to "prove himself" in any way? Bucky already knew his worth.

Is it because Steve likes to give orders? Some sort of "Oh, this guy was always meant to be the leader"? Well, there's a huge difference between being a leader, giving orders in a battlefield...and giving orders in the bedroom. And I'm pretty sure top/bottom preferences would be completely unrelated to who's the boss at work.

But nevermind that, as far as I can tell, sure Steve gives orders, but he also looks to the people he trusts for guidance. The best example is Nat. The thing that makes their friendship so goddamm precious is partly in the way he always glances at her for confirmation before making a decision. Isn't Bucky sort of like an Ultimate Nat with sex benefits?

Nevermind that too. Steve bossing people around is great, but that's not the point, is it? The point is does he enjoy it? I think, the only movie where he did look like he relished his power was TFA. I'm pretty confident that's because of the novelty of his new strength partially, and partially also because of the rush caused by his back to back successes. Why? Because he never seems to take that kind of enjoyment again. As opposed to...maybe Sam? The guy who gets his literal wings back after (presumably) years and lets out a whoop after being chased by the missile thingies. Sam's joy doesn't wear off. Steve's does.

Is it just me, or has this skew towards bottom!Bucky actually increased over the years? Why? I can say a few things on this.

First, maybe people need to remember a bit more that Sebastian Stan is not Bucky Barnes. Chris Evans is not Steve Rogers. And Steve Rogers is not Captain America.

No matter what you think about the actors, the characters they play are separate. Please.

Second, there is a very interesting theory that exists which says that the reason why Bucky is so popular in the fandom is because his character arc is relatable to women and the queer community in the fact that it's about him regaining his stolen agency. Which is true.

Does this have anything to do with him bottoming though? I mean, I don't know. Fanfictions are important because they allow us to explore ourselves, whether it's our sexuality or our trauma that we're trying to figure out. In that way, it makes sense that maybe we will tend to write Bucky as a bottom more often. Except no.

Partly because, having had bad experiences at a young age myself, and being queer myself, I do not relate to Bucky. And hypothetically speaking, I would totally bottom for Peggy or Bucky, but I would rail the absolute shit out of Steve. I canNOT be the only one.

Partly also because yeah, a lot of fanfiction is projection, which is good for the soul, both yours and mine, but not to the point where we create a fanon version of the character completely different from the canon one. Yeah, you could say that canon doesn't really give us much of a character, but clearly they give us something and we have to build up on that right? It's true for both Bucky and Steve. Bucky barely has lines, but his actions speak enough. There's an absolutely breathtaking character waiting for you in canon if you really want to look. As for Steve, let me just say, sass and the tiniest little hints of PTSD do not make a whole character. Marvel fucked it up, but this goes for the fandom too (this is keeping in mind that Steve technically has three movies dedicated to him and Bucky doesn't)

Stop treating Steve like your personal punching bag, Stucky fandom.

It does happen, if we project our bad experiences on Bucky, Steve often naturally fills the role of the clueless/mildly asshole-ish love interest. Not too much of an asshole though, clearly you love him.

That's fine. Fanfiction is about self expression, but should we lose sight of the canon characters that we loved so much in the first place? And isn't fanfiction just as much about exploring those characters, as objectively as we possibly can?

Another thing related to that...why do we only have to identify with one character? I don't know how to put this, but there's a thing called halo effect and I think that's kind of what happens (I'm not a psychologist).

You see something in Bucky. And then you start to attribute more and more things to him that may or may not actually exist. Like yeah, he's fullfilling the traditional love interest role in Steve's movies, but that doesn't automatically mean he's a bottom. The two things are... actually entirely unrelated. They're only related in your mind. And similar to that, when we see one thing in a character that we identify with, we kind of want to see even more things in them we identify with, but it doesn't have to be like that. That's not how any person works, and it's not how any fully developed character works. You can relate to both the characters in different ways, no need to dump it all in one.

Ok, another thing, that I don't like to think about but it's occured to me and I don't like it. So, Steve is generally coded as a bisexual, right? And Bucky is coded as gay. Look yourself in the eye in the mirror and think about whether you're unconsciously assuming that the bi guy isn't going to want to bottom. I'm a bisexual woman, I will top Steve. I kind of resent this.

Going off on another tangent, I have also delved into Stony on my quest for bottom!Steve. Pretty sure there's even less of that there. Why??? That's crazy.

Normally, I'm pretty sure Tony would be coded as the top. He's much older, richer. He clearly has control issues. That's one of his defining features. Control. (I don't mean that in a bad way.) So....what exactly do Bucky and Tony have in common besides dark hair and short hight? The only thing I could come up with was thotiness. They're both shown as Thots. Is that it? The Thot Bottoms? Ok.

Is it the whole energy thing? "Bucky has bottom energy"? Does he? Can you argue with me if I say that TFA Steve has bratty bottom energy? That TFA Bucky goes from service top energy to mean top energy? Pretty sure that's subjective. But what exactly are we seeing differently here? I'm honestly asking.

Bucky's character is ridiculously strong, stronger than Steve in some ways (besides probably physically). Specifically, it's because of his ability to not only survive, but heal. Can we acknowledge how crazy that is? He's just fucking buying plums, but that's still more than we've ever seen Steve do. You can say his trauma is greater, but it looks like his coping ability is greater too. So is that what this is? Steve doesn't cope. Instead he focuses on external things like being Cap, Hydra, Bucky. I wouldn't call that a healthy way of living...but it's romantic, right? Neglecting to take care of yourself? No, actually avoiding taking care of yourself by focusing entirely on another person? Is that it? We're romanticizing unhealthy behaviour?

Is it because you feel more for Bucky, wearing his hurt on his sleave, versus Steve who wears it hidden under his skin?

Am I allowed to believe that Steve's ultimate shield isn't the vibranium one, but Captain America himself?

That's just me getting off track and mildly pissy but the point stands. We like seeing Steve in control. He wears it well. He's good at it. But that's just not that relevant. You don't just boss poeple around in the bedroom because you're good at it, you have to want it too. Would he want it? Is a commanding voice really an indicator of a person's desire to command? Can we really say because he's usually the one giving orders (because that's his actual job), that he likes it too? Does he look like he especially likes it? No.

I've been around fandoms long enough to know that all fandoms always have a preference regarding who ultimately tops or bottoms. This isn't the first time it's bugged me, but it feels more this time because I just don't see it. And it makes me angry because it contradicts what I feel, are the best parts of the characters. No, Bucky bottoming isn't the contradiction..but all this that I wrote, the connotations of this kind of coding, the underlying thoughts.... some of it is just not nice, but some of it opposes the little things that humanize these characters. It wouldn't matter, except that it wouldn't have happened at all if it didn't matter.

It's not just what happens to them in canon that matters so much. It's also what they choose to do for themselves when they have the chance. It feels like they made their choices and half the fandom ignored it. "Nah man, you'll look better at the bottom. Look at that hair."

Because ultimately, that's what it feels like to me. A mixture of not thinking too much about it (though I know this post probably counts as overthinking), some wierd internalised heteronormativity, and I don't know what just kind of fucks with all of us. All I know is that I hate it. I hate it.

It's not the bottom!Bucky I hate, it's the underlying, unthinking assumptions. The way it's a foregone conclusion. It's not. I really just want to be able to read the goddamn fanfictions again without wanting to tear my skin off.

( You can help by giving reccs)

[psyched2b]

Bawcock

Summary: A glimpse into the domestic/semi-retired life of Bucky Barnes where there’s no such thing as too much sass or love.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: Some swear words; mentions of blood and gore; little bit steamy towards the end

A/N: Here is is! After over a year and four months of nothing new, here we go. Thank you to everyone who has stuck around! A special thanks goes out to @thinkwritexpress-official​ for all her help in making sure this wasn’t a mess and beta-ing for me. Another huge thank you to @mermaidxatxheart​ for supporting me through all the ups and downs of this and convincing me not to throw myself or my computer in a dumpster and set it on fire. Anywho, please enjoy! Feedback is welcomed and appreciated!!!

Masterlist

It was one of those quiet days that Y/N treasured. 

All that was left to do was to wait for Bucky’s return. 

That, and to settle into Bucky’s worn leather armchair that they found at a consignment shop, grab her new book by her favorite philosophical author, and engross herself in the thoughts of another.

It had been over a week since he had left with AmericanAirline, otherwise known as Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson, on a mission to some undisclosed place. 

Having the house to herself had been nice. It gave her time to pamper herself a bit and also to have some much needed girl time with Wanda.

However, if her fiance was going to be any longer, she would have to go ahead and get started on their ‘dream’ garden. They had to get their seeds sown before it was too late in the season. Bucky, nonetheless, was adamant before he left that she wasn’t to so much as touch one weed because this was their garden. And he would be damned if he wasn’t there to partake in the fun. 

Y/N was just waiting for the day for him to ask to get a goat. Not that she would begrudge him one. Her only secret condition would be that they had to name him after one of the Avengers. She would never admit it out loud, but she wanted a whole tribe of them. They had more than enough property and they were a highlight of their time in Wakanda.

Unfortunately, the Three Musketeers were on complete radio silence, meaning that there was no way of knowing where they were at, if they were successful, or when they were due to return. If they came home. 

‘No!’ she mentally chastised herself, wanting to squish that bit of anxiety that tried to creep through the peace. ‘Everything will be fine.’

She had the utmost faith in the Winter Soldier’s capabilities. He would be fine and home soon. Back in her arms. Safe. 

She just had to keep telling herself that.

.... I͢..... I͢..... I͢..... I͢......... I͢..... I͢..... I͢..... I͢......... I͢..... I͢..... I͢..... I͢......... I͢..... I͢..... I͢..... I͢.

It wasn’t until the sun had sunk below the tree line that she heard the opening and closing of the front door. 

“Bucky?” she called out, setting her book to the side. She reached her arms up and curved her back, releasing the tension that had built in her from remaining stationary for so long. 

The man stuck his head around the corner and gave her a wide smile… but something was off. “Hey, darling,” Bucky’s husky voice greeted, causing a familiar shiver to go down her spine. 

Y/N didn’t waste any more time, tossing the book on the coffee table and scrambling out of the nest of blankets she had collected over the hours to scurry over to where he stood in all of his Super Soldier glory.

Her eyes widened in shock. “Holy fuck, Buck. Did you slaughter a pig and bathe in its blood before coming home?” Still dressed in his black stealth gear and equipped in his many, many knives, he was also covered in bits and pieces of coagulated blood and… was that brain matter?

He offered a sheepish smile in return. “Code red, babe.”

“Hm,” Y/N hummed with pursed lips. “I can see that.”

Towards the beginning of their relationship, they came up with a code to let each other know how bad things were mentally or physically upon arrival at home so the other could help where needed. 

Sometimes… Sometimes the missions would leave more than just a physical scar, resulting in restless nights full of nightmares, panic attacks and bouts of anger, but it wasn’t something he would let anyone outside of his house see, not even Steve. She was his safe place and he thanked whatever higher power out there everyday to have someone like her in his life. Sometimes he had thoughts that he wasn’t worth anything, but Y/N was right there, reassuring him that everyone had a purpose in life and without him, the world would be a very different place. Plus, if he was out of the picture, what would be left of her? She’d probably be in some institution herself. 

Together, they kept each other sane. 

Their codes were based on the stoplight system. 

Code red was pretty easy to guess, but in spite of the code, Bucky was still in his ‘everything-is-completely-fine’ persona. She wouldn’t see the mental wounds until later that night. 

Thankfully for the carpet, the ex-Winter Soldier kept his distance, remaining on the tiled flooring of the entryway. They had a rule that no blood was to make it on the carpet, period. If that happened, Y/N would go into a cleaning frenzy until she was certain that everything was back to its original condition. Though the rule carried on from the Compound, this was their first home after all and they would be damned if - for any reason other than godly interference (with the explicit exception of those of Asgardian form) - the house would remain in top-notch condition. 

Together, they had built this home after Thanos and his army was decimated once and for all. They both kept working for a while, doing odd free-lance work here and there, trying to make the world a better place and all. But as soon as the house was completed, a decision had been made to go into retirement...or at least, semi-retirement. It was time to let the younger people take over. Of course, with her, Bucky always felt like he was in the prime of his life. Despite being well over a hundred years old, she kept him young… and in good shape.

He smiled at the thought, hoping that good times were but a shower away. Or maybe good times in the shower? Hm, the possibilities. 

Y/N was oblivious to where his thoughts had gone, worried within her own thoughts, but kept a cool exterior. “Now, question. Just right off the bat. Totally random.” She let her eyes sweep over his gore-covered form. “Is that all just one person’s insides, or multiple persons?” Then she sniffed and made an exaggerated look of disgust. “And when on earth was the last time you showered?” Still, she decided his cheek looked relatively clear of body fluids and went up on her tippy-toes to press a quick kiss to it before stepping back and further assessing her partner with a soft shake of her head. “But seriously, you stink.”

“And yet, you still kissed me,” he gloated, managing to keep his hands to himself, not wanting to dirty her favorite sweater (though they both knew her favorite was one of his; he just wasn’t allowed to bring it up). “Albeit, I wish it was more than just a peck on my cheek, but eh, I’ll take what I can get.” He paused. “For now.” Then he gave Y/N another cheeky smile before heading to the bathroom dubbed the ‘Taint to Daint Area’. Bucky proudly thought of it himself. 

Watching his retreating form, or rather, his retreating ass, Y/N shook her head in disbelief at his antics and quietly asked herself, “Why are you like this?” knowing full well that she wouldn’t have him any other way. 

Bucky smirked at her over his shoulder as he entered the large bathroom and began to remove his many, many knives, dropping them into the sink to be cleaned properly later.“ Depends on what you mean, dollface. Do you mean the irrevocable handsomeness that is moi, the disturbing amounts of coagulated blood on me, or the always exciting vexatious PTSD?”

Peals of laughter erupted from Y/N as she entered the room after him, stopping to lean a shoulder against the doorway that carried the faint scent of lacquer. “Ha ha, smart ass. But no.” She crossed her arms and nodded towards his lower half. “I was actually referring to your shoes.” 

Keep in mind that approximately 89.7% of the time, Sergeant Barnes would wear his “trustworthy” combat boots. Didn’t matter the occasion. Mission. Stark Parties. Vacationing through the Caymans. Cruise trip that turned into a near bioterrorist attack.  He always stood firm on the fact that he had to make sure he was always prepared to kick ass anytime, anywhere, and he wasn’t going to do so in “fucking sneakers.” Mr. Always-Prepared would then make it abundantly clear to everyone “that it wasn’t because he couldn’t do it in sneakers. It just looked cooler with his kickass boots.”

So imagine Y/N’s surprise when the Winter Soldier came home still in all his gear… but with the great exception of the highlighter-yellow Crocs on his feet. And, to top it off? Inside the offensive shoes were shockingly white tube socks instead of his usual black worn in all other instances.

Both were clearly new as they were the only part of his ensemble that remained spared from the obvious bloodbath.

His pale blue eyes flickered down as if having forgotten what he was wearing. He nodded to himself then turned to Y/N and shrugged without a care in the world, moving to disassemble the buckles on his vest. “They’re surprisingly functional,” he answered simply. 

As if that explained anything. 

Y/N moved to grab the plastic tote kept under the sink for such disrobing instances. It kept the rest of the house safe from a variety of bodily fluids until the offending clothes made way to the laundry room… or if bad enough, the burn pile a quarter-mile deep in the woods. 

 “Right,” she articulated speculatively. “As opposed to the boots you swear will go to the grave with you?”

Bucky dropped the dark vest into the tote, leaving him in a damp black tank top before moving to disassemble his thigh harness. 

Y/N once again had to restrain herself from where her thoughts led. 

“Fewer laces to undo to get me down to my knickers,” he snickered at her, knowing exactly where her thoughts had drifted to. 

She had to force herself not to blush. “You’re avoiding the topic.”

With an exaggerated sigh from him, she knew she was in for a story. Bucky dropped the harness to the ground and took a seat on the ledge of the bath, turning his undivided attention to his wonderful and naughty fiance. “Well, to start, I put part of the blame on you.”

Y/N gasped loudly. “Me?”, she asked incredulously, pressing a hand to her chest as it was one of the most ridiculous things she had ever heard. “How?”

Bucky nodded his head with a solemn expression, looking down at his brightly covered feet. “Yes, you,” he affirmed. “Let’s see. It all started after the bloodbath of a lifetime and I was covered head to toe in various body parts and goo and shit. Then I realized we had to travel 12 clicks back to base camp… and my shoes were squishy and just gross.”

The skeptical woman looked up at the ceiling as if it held all the answers to this craziness before refocusing her attention on her clearly delusional man. “As if ‘gross’ boots have ever stopped you before,” she pointed out. “‘I’m a hard man that served my country. Even almost got trench foot. I like to bathe in the blood of my enemies.’ Blah blah blah,” she mimicked in a gruff voice, trying to do her best impression of Bucky. 

Bucky scowled at her in response. “I do not sound like that.”

Y/N shrugged, “Mm, sure you don’t. Still fail to see how any part of your footwear preferences is my fault.”

The Super Soldier pouted at her for a moment before realizing she wasn’t going to let up on the subject. With another hearty sigh, he continued. “You’re part in this is that you now have me accustomed to a life of luxury and comfort. I used to be a total badass. And I did have trench foot, thank you very much. But now? The thought of having to walk miles to base from the mission point in… well, I’ll spare you the details, but let’s just say that there was no way in hell that was going to happen. Just plain gross.”

“Gross,” she echoed flatly, trying to decide if he was punking her or if he was being serious. 

Bucky gave a hum of affirmation, reaching behind him to turn on the shower before working on getting his pants off. 

She shook her head to clear it, holding a hand up. “Okay. Fine. Life of luxury. Whatever. Now I just have two questions. What happened to your old boots and where the hell did you find those...monstrosities?” She paused for a moment. “Correction. I have three. First, how the heck did you of all people end up drenched in human bits? You’re the most meticulous and precise person I’ve ever met, this isn’t your usual style. Nor Steve’s, and I highly doubt Sam would be a part of whatever this,” she gestured to the tote between them, “is.”

For the first time since returning home, Bucky’s playful demeanor dropped as he scowled at the soiled clothes. “There were civilians,” he grunted out, angrily shucking off his pants. 

Y/N sucked on her teeth, suddenly understanding the severity of the situation. “Hostages?”

Bucky threw his hands up in exasperation before testing the water to make sure it was at an agreeable temperature. “That’s what we all thought! Wasn’t the case… at all,” he spat out bitterly. Water evidently to his liking, he stripped the rest of the way and stepped under the high-pressured spray. 

Y/N didn’t hesitate to strip and climb into the shower behind him, immediately going to wrap her arms around his waist from behind, settling her forehead on the spot between his shoulder blades. “How bad?” she asked.

Beneath her, the man let out a shudder of breath, his shoulders slumped forward, head dropping. He reached out with one hand to grasp the wall as if anchoring himself to something solid. Then, he whispered, “There was only one way for it to end.”

There was a moment of silence. “I’m sorry,” she finally whispered, moving so they stood chest to chest. She reached up, cupping his cheek within her palm. “We can talk more about it when you’re ready.” 

He smiled at her, a small one, but real this time, ducking his head to hers and pulled her closer. “I love you.” 

Y/N smiled back. “I love you too, bawcock.”

She could see the ‘Error 404’ happening in Bucky’s mind when he stood up straight, staring blankly at her. Y/N let out a small giggle, grabbing the shampoo and lathering his hair, waiting for him to catch up.

As she was beginning to rinse his hair, he snapped out of it. “Bawcock?” he questioned loudly, confusion taking over his expression. “Bawcock? What the fuck?!” Y/N let out another giggle, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling herself closer. “Yes, Bawcock.” Giving him a brilliant smile that had his heart skipping a beat, she explained, “It means, ‘a fine fellow’.” She pressed up on her toes, getting close enough that their lips were just centimeters from meeting, teasing him. Before he could give in and kiss her, she pulled back with another sly smile. “It’s either that or Lambkins. Your choice.” 

Bucky’s hands dropped to her ass and picked her up, her legs instinctively wrapping around his middle. He dropped his forehead to hers and whispered. “I swear, you are so much trouble.” 

She pressed her bare breasts against his chest and tightened her legs around him, looking up at him through her eyelashes. “But you wouldn’t have me any other way,” she replied smugly, tangling her fingers in his now short locks. 

Unable to hold back any longer, Bucky pressed his lips against hers, pouring the emotions he was feeling into his movements, Y/N’s touch lifting some of the darkness brewing under his skin.

Y/N was the one to pull back, panting. “I will never get used to that.”

He nuzzled her neck, pressing small kisses randomly. “Good, because we have a lifetime together of it.”

“Even longer, bawcock.”

Bucky pulled back with a scowl. “No. That’s not going to stick.”

Y/N arched an eyebrow in defiance. “Oh yeah? And how are you going to stop me?”

“Oh, I’ll show you,” he responded with a mischievous grin, slowly dropping to his knees. He pressed a slow kiss to her stomach before making eye contact with her. “All I’m going to be hearing for the next while will be my name and some of those beautiful moans I love to hear coming from your lips.” 

... I͢..... I͢..... I͢..... I͢......... I͢..... I͢..... I͢..... I͢......... I͢..... I͢..... I͢..... I͢......... I͢..... I͢..... I͢..... I͢.

In the end, they both got what they wanted. 

The end. ______________________________________________________________________

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[straightouttaneptune]

It girl pt. 4 - Superhero debut

Pairing: Mentor!Natasha Romanoff x Mentee!Reader, Platonic!Avengers x reader, Peter Parker x Reader (In the future)

Warning: Reader being a kickass, Peter x Reader is settling in... Not much to warn.

Summary: Natasha had once joked about picking a random new recruit trainee to teach all her skills since Tony had recently become Peter’s mentor. Fury sees this as a legitimate idea, and asks Natasha to choose her protège, code name: “it girl”.

A/N: I’m so sorry it took so long! But it’s finally here, and the reader is on a mission!!! Anyways, it’s been decided that this little series will end with Part 5 or a 6, depending on how long it will be. Enjoy xx

Prologue Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5 Part 6

———————————————————————

2 weeks later

“We gotta go to that Stark internship now!” You and Peter told Ned and MJ simultaneously, before rushing out of the campus hand in hand.

“Peter, gimme your backpack.” He tossed his bag to you as you placed his and your bag into a self-navigating drone you pulled out of your pack, the coordinates heading right to the Avengers Compound.

“Alright. Ready?” You turned back at Peter in his spider-man get up, giving him a thumbs up.

He wrapped his arm around your waist, flustering you a little. No matter how many times the two of you did this, the contact with his well-built body always got your heart to pick up its pace. You’d liked Peter ever since he had that crush on Liz, but you’ve never had to suppress your feelings harder than the last few weeks. There were a lot more secrets, touching, grabbing and moments spent together compared to when you were just in the same friend group.

Peter thanked god that his mask covered his obviously red cheeks, and tried his hardest not to stare at your excited, adorable face.

You let yourself feel the cool wind combing through your hair, that drop of your stomach when he lets go of the web to shoot another, the awes and gasps of the people down below and obviously being hugged by Peter.

The two of you land right in front of the door, where Bucky and Sam were bickering at each other again. Something about Sam eating Bucky’s plums again, so now Bucky was going to make Sam mow the entire field.

“Oh hey, kids. Stark, Nat, your kids are here!” Sam yelled into the building, then continued to sass Bucky with arguments that made no sense whatsoever.

“Well, you have cooties, so I saved the plums from Bucky germs. It is safer in my stomach.”

“I hate you. So much.”

You waved goodbye to Peter and rushed up to your room, ready to change into training gear. But as soon as you entered the walk-in-closet, MINT's voice rang through the room. 

"Mission gear lock: Deactivated. Welcome, Y/N Y/L/N." Your eyes widened in surprise, rushing to the furthest side of the closet to look at the Mission gear compartment. 

To your surprise, the blue shield had been taken down, revealing black combat suits of different uses. The usual one, with all black form-fitting shape, tactical with bullet vests built into the top and knives stored in various places, covert that included zero design and came with a black eye mask, and so on. You pushed the clothes aside to reveal a screen, that asked you to swipe left and scan fingerprint to continue. 

You followed the instruction without hesitation, MINT immediately replying with "Authorized personnel. Agent in training, Y/N Y/L/N. Congratulations, Y/N." 

You jumped back in surprise as the walls started moving, the clothes that were hung up moved to the other side of the wall to reveal a new one, stacked with weapons and many types of guns. 

"What. the. fuck." You mumbled to yourself in astonishment, staring at the various weaponry that seemed too high-tech to even exist on the Earth. 

"I see you've already opened my gift." Your head couldn't whip sideways any faster,  spotting Natasha standing by the entrance, leaning her shoulder on the doorway. She dressed in her Black Widow suit that you only saw on TV during the NY and Sokovia attacks. 

"This is insane. I'm allowed on missions?" 

"Only a small mission, with me supervising from the compound, okay?" She held up her finger and gave you a stern look, which you nodded happily to. You were already pumped with adrenaline, ready to take on basically anything. 

“Alright. Let’s get you to Fury. Put the one with the... blue design on.” She rummaged through the suits, finally pulling one out. It looked exactly like the ones she wore during the battle of Sokovia, except it looked a little more updated.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, body covered in full-leather or spandex or whatever the material was. You looked good. Even though it was quite the workout to put it on, it felt perfect and comfortable, every inch of the suit hugging you right.

You felt the reinforced shoulder plates, the gun holster on your thigh squeezing lightly, and the best part was, the material was engineered by Tony to make sure whoever wore it, doesn’t sweat out of their minds. The material kept it’s cool even after the workout putting it on, and you didn’t feel uncomfortable at all.

“Alright it girl, let’s go.” Natasha knocked on the closet door before her head poked out. “Grab that gun on your right, and follow me.”

Not even a few hours later, you were dropped off on a lonely hill of god-knows-where in America, left on your own to fend for yourself.

“Agent 13 will only be a few miles away in case anything goes wrong, okay?” You heard Natasha speak into your comms. “And, call me Natashenka on missions. Especially covert ones.”

“Natashenka?”

“Yeah, it’s the Russian nickname for Natasha.”

“Mm, I like it.”

You walked alone for a little while, no enemy or buildings in sight. So it really caught you off guard when a bullet flew straight beside your ear, landing itself in a tree behind you.

You recalled your past training with Natasha, rolling on the ground to find shelter behind a thick tree. Taking out the gun out of your holster, you tried to keep calm as you tried to spot the shooter. You also powered up your shock bracelet just in case.

If you were gonna do this, you were gonna do this right. Kneeling down on one knee, you aimed your gun at the man standing in front of a small army-camp looking building. With a sharp exhale, your fingers pulled the trigger and the bullet flew through the warm summer air.

The bullet buried itself in the guard’s bulletproof vest, knocking him out cold. “Good job, Y/N. But be careful. He’s not dead.”

“I don’t wanna kill anyone!” You whispered into your comms, slowly making your way to the gate. It must’ve been a severely under-staffed base since that guy you took out was the only guard outside. 

You stalked into the base, and all you could say was that it looked damaged. It looked very close to collapsing, and you were trusted to retrieve all of the files on the Avengers from this dump. 

"Hello, sweetheart. What's a girl like you doing here?" You turned around to face an unexpected number of guards, all standing behind one especially dark, suspicious-looking man. 

Your mind rushed to find you a perfect lie to deceive them, so you wouldn't fucking die in there. "Mm. Anastasiya Primanova. Sent from the base in Russia, courtesy of Strucker." You used the thick Russian accent you've heard in movies before, hoping it would sound real. "Y/N? What is going on?" You heard Natasha's frantic voice after you introduced yourself as someone else entirely. You hid the nervous hammering heart behind a cold, dead expression, putting your gun back in the holster. Please buy this, please buy this, please...

"Strucker's dead." He stared at you, inspecting you, but at least he wasn't shooting at you. 

"Obviously. I did his dirty bidding. He wrote a will. I was to take over this American base. It's quite the dump. кто ты?" (Who are you?) You used all the techniques in the book, making sure he took you in as 'Anastasiya Primanova', not 'obviously American girl on a mission'. You raised your chin and cocked your head, an unmistakable sign when one is looking down at someone. If you wanted anyone to see you as above them, you had to fake it till you made it.

"Kazimir." 

"So, are you going to show me what you've been doing or what?" Your hand rested on the gun in your holster, the other on your hip. He looked like he was conflicted, but in the end, he bought the act. He dismissed the soldiers to go back to their designated posts and signaled you to follow him. 

"You shot one of my men." He looked at your side-profile, seemingly still skeptical. But to be fair, that was justified. 

"And I'll shoot you too if you keep talking to me." Your pocket knife made a sharp slash sound as you popped it out, looking back at him warningly. "I trained with the Winter Soldiers. Do not try me." Your acting was so on-point, you had to give yourself a pat on the back for it. Threatening him as a first-impression made him fear you, even though he didn't know anything about you. It was simple psychology in the animal psyche, where one learns to fear another if they seem superior to them. 

“Oh, my god, Y/N, what are you doing?” A faint panic in Natasha’s voice was evident, but you were improvising.

He took you to every room from floor 1 to sub-levels, and you were down to the last room. Now, you had a perfect image of the whole base in your head. The base was much more complicated than you had thought, it was working perfectly underground even though it looked like a mess on the outside. The Avengers would have to come back to destroy this place.

“This is the archive.” Kazimir scanned his card to show you the inside, before taking off to do whatever evil thing he had on his schedule.

You grabbed his jacket before he could fully walk away, pulling him back forcefully. He showed you a look of hostility, but you paid his resentment no attention.

“Card.” You put out your left palm, and he uneagerly left his card in your hands.

“Thank you.” You eyed him carefully one last time, making sure he had no intention of betraying you or knowledge that you were an imposter. When he only showed bitterness, you let him go.

“Наташенька, I’m in.” You whispered proudly, but discreet in case there were any listening devices or cameras. That was most likely.

“Good job! What was the whole thing with Anastasiya and everything?” She sounded relieved, letting out a small sigh.

“Simple acting... Human psychology... The important thing is, I got the file on the USB.” You stared at the USB in your hand, letting out the breath you didn’t know you were holding in.

“Great. Now, get out of there.”

It was too easy from there. You glared at a couple soldiers on the way, made your way to the elevator and up, and just strolled out of the building. Once you were far enough, you called for the quinjet to take you back in.

“Y/N! Oh god, I was so nervous.” Natasha jumped out of the jet right as the door opened, rushing up to you. 

The adrenaline was starting to wear off, and the full realization of what you did started to dawn on you. “I just walked into a HYDRA base, made them think I was their leader and stole confidential files?!” Your organs felt like they were being jumbled up in the washing machine. You felt so dizzy you even had to hold onto Natasha for support.

“Director Fury, Mr. Fury, um, that base, that base was not what you said it was.” You crouched down to sit on the floor of the quinjet, safe and sound on your way back to the compound.

He looked to you curiously, waiting for you to say more.

“There was a place, underground, and hundreds of soldiers. You gotta- you gotta send the Avengers or something in there. There was a room, sub-level 2, where they were doing experimentations on animals, and they said they’ll start-“ You rambled while Natasha sat by your side, her face twisting into various emotions before she set her eyes on Fury with anger.

“We sent her to a fully-operational HYDRA facility?!” She shot up, her eyes wide with rage. Fury appeared more interested in how you went in there and didn’t die.

“You went inside and fooled them all? You saw- no, they guided you through every inch of the place, and you remember it?” He walked over to you, eyes narrowed and tone low.

“Fury!” 

“Right. But to be fair, you did a really good job.”

You chuckled, looking up at Natasha who still had a worried look on her face. Her sharp features softened when her eyes met with yours though, seeing how content you looked with yourself.

“Yeah. You did.” She smiled down at you sheepishly, as the quinjet came to a halt in front of the compound. The jet lowered itself on the concrete, FRIDAY’s voice ringing through the speakers. “Destination Arrived.”

A couple days later, practically everyone knew of the ‘it girl’ in the building who fooled over 100 HYDRA men and retrieved inside information and base layout that spies would take weeks to obtain.

You helped Steve make up a strategy for the infiltration, drawing him a map of every exit, every hide-out and all the places to avoid bombing. Sam started to randomly give you high-fives when crossing each other in the hall.

“What’s up, it girl?”

“Not much, Sam.”

*high-fives*

Thor would address you as “Y/N Natashadottier”, completely mistaking the whole Earth’s last-name system. You quite liked it, to be honest. A lot of times you went home to find your mother gone, her things packed with money on the table, clearly gone after your father again. In times like this, you never had anyone when you were younger. But now, you could easily show up at the Avengers Compound, and be welcomed, your room ready for you at all times. So in some ways, Natasha was your undocumented guardian.

Natasha couldn’t be more proud, everyone working in the new SHIELD was buzzing about the ‘it girl’, who was not a mutant, not an enhanced, not a genius, just a high-school girl who reads a lot of psychology books.

Peter also was excited for your big debut in the superhero world, the corners of his eyes crinkling every time someone mentions the ‘it girl’. Tony and Natasha obviously notice this, but they’re keeping quiet to see how fast you’ll get together.

Next chapter: Part 5

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[cake-writes]

Little Lies (Part Six)

Pairings: Steve x Reader // Bucky x Reader // Natasha x Reader (Purely Sexual)

Chapter Warnings: Angst, Smut, WLW & Bisexuality, 18+

Summary: You went to Bucky when you wanted punishment. He’d be rough with you because he understood your self-loathing, and he’d leave bruises on your hips that wouldn’t go away for a week. You loved it. He didn’t.

You went to Steve when you wanted reassurance. You went to him because he liked to whisper sweet, sweet things into your ear as he made love to you. He’d tell you that you were perfect and amazing and beautiful. Then you’d get your fill, just far too much of it. He cared too much.

It all came to a head when the three of you went on a mission together. You’d done it a hundred times, even during this mess of a situation, and still neither of them was any the wiser. Your little lies always slipped right through the cracks - until one night, they didn’t.

Part Five / Master List

Your explanation to your teammates was thorough, but detached – almost like it wasn’t actually you. Pure dissociation.

Your name was on those ledgers because handled the bookkeeping for the cartel, but it wasn’t just that. You organized shipments, and then, to ensure that they were handled satisfactorily, you oversaw operations on the ground without mercy. You lined up potential buyers, made a network of them, actually – and in order not to get caught, you even bribed officials.

You laid the groundwork for an empire.

The news didn’t seem to bother Natasha at all. She’d done worse, and even if she hadn’t, she wasn’t one to judge. Never had been. People did what they did to survive, and you were no different.

Your boys, however, reacted in the complete opposite way.

“You worked for them?” Bucky asked you in an incredulous tone that you’d only ever heard from him once before. “Even knowing what they do, you chose to keep—?”

The shipments you organized were of women.

Just like Romania.

Just like yourself.

You pressed your lips together in a firm line. You’d done more than just work for them, but that was a story for another day. Either way, you’d chosen to do it. “Yes.”

Bucky had killed so many people and done so many awful things, but most of them hadn’t been by choice. He knew you had a choice, and you’d done it anyway. And you were so casual about it, too, admitting that you traded people like livestock. You traded lives.

He’d been put into containment and forced to do things he never would have done. You’d made that same thing happen to other people. The circumstances were different, but the end result was the same.

You did the exact same thing that Hydra forced upon him – took away his will.

He took it personally.

The way Bucky said your name made it sound like a curse, and he was on his feet, slamming the ledger in his hands down onto the kitchen table along with the rest. The table creaked under the sheer power behind it.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

You’d heard that from him before, too, just once – except you didn’t react badly this time. Instead, you were calm. Too calm. It was an eerie sort of calm that Bucky had only seen from you on that balcony in Iceland, and it gave him that same sense of dread in the pit of his stomach.  

“I did what I had to do.”

That set him off.

“Bullshit,” he spat, rounding on you. “That’s bullshit, and you know it. You’re just as bad as Hydra. No one has to—”  

Steve’s hand was suddenly firm in the middle of Bucky’s chest, holding him back, and it disarmed him. Neither of you thought that he was actually going to hurt you, but he was definitely getting close to that point. Even Steve could see that. The fact that Steve had intervened made Bucky realize that, too.

When Bucky shot him a look, Steve slowly lowered his hand. A muscle in Bucky’s jaw ticked, then, and he took a step back, refusing to look at you.

What he’d done with you – you, the exact same kind of person who made him like this—

“Why don’t we all just take a breather, huh?” Tony spoke up in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere, not that it worked at all. “Come on. Let’s take five.”

Bucky didn’t need to be told twice. He was already halfway out of the room by the time Tony finished talking, and you swallowed thickly as you watched him leave. When the suite door slammed shut behind him, you flinched.

Then your eyes moved from the doorway to Steve, who looked just as shaken as you felt. You knew with one look that he wanted nothing to do with you, not anymore. You’d put them both through so much, and you’d finally reached the breaking point. It was bound to happen sometime. It made sense.

Honestly, you should have expected this, but you were an idiot and thought that they’d understand like they’d done so many times in the past. Of course they wouldn’t. You weren’t a good person. You never had been.

It was clear by the expression on his face that Steve felt like he didn’t know you at all. In most ways, he didn’t. Whatever tension there had been between the two of you, now it was even worse than before.

Then Steve averted his eyes and followed Bucky outside. The door didn’t slam shut behind him, but he didn’t shut it gently, either. You kept your head held high anyway. You wouldn’t crumble over this. Not now. Not with an audience.

Natasha reached across the table and squeezed your hand, a small gesture of support. She didn’t know everything that had transpired between the three of you, but she knew enough. Your friendship – relationship – with them was fractured, and she’d do what she could for you. She, at least, was still your friend.

“You okay?” Tony asked you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“Yeah,” you replied automatically, giving them both a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’m fine. You know me.”

Except you weren’t. You clearly weren’t, but Tony trusted your judgement just as always.

Natasha did, too.

That was a mistake.

Bucky didn’t return that night.

Steve did, but it was late, well into the early hours of the morning.

You weren’t sure where they’d gone, but it didn’t matter. You hadn’t been able to sleep, so you had a few drinks from the mini-bar and found yourself back with the ledgers on the kitchen table. Truth be told, you hadn’t managed to do much of anything for the rest of the day. Part of it was because you were rusty with the code, but you just couldn’t concentrate like this. You hadn’t managed to decode more than two pages over the last few hours.

You were angry. You were upset. You were bitter.

You’d finally opened up about your past, and they’d rejected you. Both of them.

Even still, you felt a shred of hope when you heard Steve’s familiar footfalls. He walked hesitantly into the brightly-lit kitchen, almost like he wasn’t sure who was still awake.

Bucky wasn’t with him.

When Steve saw it was you, it didn’t seem to be much of a surprise. He looked like he wanted to say something, but the words wouldn’t come and you didn’t know what to say to him, either. You stared at each other in complete silence – hesitant, guarded, both of you – before he finally breezed right past you to his room without a word.

You didn’t bid him goodnight.

It was easy to fuck Natasha Romanoff.

It wasn’t that she was easy, but the fact that it was you fucking her that made it easy. The two of you never really got along, but you worked just fine together on missions. You could do teamwork, even if you didn’t like who it was you were working with. Due to the nature of the job, you’d still have each other’s backs. That was what you did in this job. You took care of your own.  

She still would, even after she learned what kind of person you were.

At first, the fact that you’d so easily toyed with her friends’ hearts irritated her just as much as it intrigued her. What kind of person would be willing to use people like that for her own gain – like her? She didn’t know the specifics. All she knew was that both Steve and Bucky were head over heels for you, disgustingly so. She was an observant person, and the fact that you managed to use them so easily and neither of them noticed – well, it made sense.

She’d seen right through it, though.

Your touch on Steve’s shoulder would linger just a little too much. The way his eyes would meet yours and you’d bite your lip or wink a little – it was suspicious.

You’d pull a stray hair from Bucky’s jacket with such familiarity. You touched him too easily. You’d send him a quick, dangerous look that he’d return all the same.

You flirted with both of them. No, you did more than just flirt. She knew you were fucking both of them. It was obvious to her, but not to anyone else. No one was ever as observant.

It pissed her off, because her friends weren’t playthings and that was exactly how you treated them. To her, it was a blessing that you’d been assigned to this mission with her. She could finally exchange the words that had been burning in her throat for months. She wasn’t the type to intervene, normally, but Steve and Bucky were damaged – damaged like her – and if she was in the same spot, she’d trust them to do the same. She knew that they would do the same for her.  

There was clear tension the second you entered the meeting room. Something had happened between the three of you, and she didn’t know what. All she knew was that Steve and Bucky had been even worse than ever since you left; they pined over you in a way that was absolutely ridiculous.

So she decided to psych you out.

“We missed you,” Natasha greeted you, leaning in to give you a hug. You stilled for the briefest of moments, before you hugged her right back like it was the most natural thing in the world. If you wanted to play it that way, then she’d escalate it – and she whispered into your ear, “Try not to fuck things up this time.”

She felt you stiffen when she pulled away, and smirked at you.

Then the most radiant, sickeningly sweet smile came across your face, and she knew you’d won. You won in sheer fucking diplomacy, because none of her colleagues even figured out a thing. They thought it was just a game the two of you played.  

“Mind your business, Romanoff,” you told her, friendly as all get-out. Joking. Teasing. Like the two of you were such great friends.

Natasha knew how to play games. Turns out, you did too.

The first couple of days after you and Natasha arrived in Cancun, you still weren’t getting along that well – but the two of you sucked it up, because that was what people like you did. You worked together just fine, but you couldn’t stand being around each other. Neither of you showed a lick of honesty. It was an intricate game, one you played entirely too well.  

Then you sat down on the sofa with her one night and said something so blunt, it caught her off guard. “You’re a good agent, Romanoff. So am I. Truce?”

It was so stupidly honest the way you held out your pinky for a promise, like a child. It wasn’t a game anymore. It was obvious how tired you were of it. You were genuinely interested in getting along with her, getting to know her. For the first time in a very, very long time, Natasha let her guard down.

That night, you bonded over drinks. How many, in the end, neither of you were sure. You’d raided the mini bar in the suite and you were sure Tony’s bill for it would be astronomical, but neither of you cared.  

It was so easy, natural, the way her fingers interlaced with yours as she pulled you to her bedroom – like that was where you’d been sleeping the last three days, right along with her, not on the sofa bed. The two of you fell onto her plush mattress together, giggling about some stupid joke or another, and you lay like that for a long while.

The conversation flowed so easily between you both well into the early hours of the morning. You were drunk, and she was too, but in this moment – for the very first time – the two of you were entirely honest with each other. You let your walls down. You let her in, and she did the same with you. It was naïve and stupid and both of you knew better, but you did it all the same.

The soft glow of her bedside light illuminated her features in a way that made the breath hitch in your throat. She was beautiful. In your dazed, drunken mind, you couldn’t help but reach out and smooth away a stray lock of hair stuck to her cheek. Her skin was flushed and damp with sweat, as was yours from the sheer amount of alcohol the two of you had. You tucked the lock of hair behind her ear and, when you met her eyes – gorgeous green eyes illuminated by moonlight – your fingertips stilled.  

“It was in the way,” you told her nonchalantly.

Easy. Casual.

A few seconds passed as you took her in; cute, heart-shaped face, perfect brows and cheekbones, soft, kissable lips. She was gorgeous.

You caught her looking at you in a similar way.

Maybe you reached out first, or maybe it was her; neither of you could be sure. All you knew was that you were kissing her and she was kissing you right back. Her lips were soft on yours, not nearly as dominant as you’d expected from her but every bit as willing. It was your tongue that slid between her lips, not vice versa and it turned you on even more to know that she was letting you take the lead.  

Her hands were embedded in the fabric of your flimsy tank top, and with them she was pulling you closer. One of your hands was on the back of her neck, doing the same, and your other was raking down the side of her pajama-clad body.

“Safe word?” you breathed against her lips. While some partners might not have even known what that was, you were certain that she wasn’t one of them.

“Red,” she responded, pulling you down for another kiss.  

The pajamas disappeared so quickly, so frenzied that your alcohol-fuelled mind hadn’t been able to keep up. All that you could focus on was that she was letting you use her any way you liked. She was so pliable and wanting for you, let you pull her to her knees, spank her, ruin her, whisper any naughty thing your dirty mind could imagine about her and she never used her safe word. You loved how easy it was to mark her up with love bites and bruises, but she didn’t complain at all. Instead, she loved every second of it as you used your fingers and mouth and tongue to get her off not once, but twice.

Then Natasha had you on your back, and she dropped the submissive act. She shoved two fingers deep inside of you – no preparation, but you didn’t need it and she could just tell – and, with her lips brushing against your ear, she praised you. She told you how perfect you’d been for her, and that you were so good, even when you were so spread open like this, letting her touch so deeply inside of you—

And she curled her fingers in just the way that sent you reeling. She made you come three times like that in rapid succession, making you gush with hardly a break in between, just her dirty talk and her fingers and her sweet, sweet lips and tongue on your neck.

Your breathing was heavy and rough as you lay on your back, entirely spent, but she was insatiable. Your fingers were worn out, as was the rest of your body, but you told her to ride your face and she loved it. Her fingers were tight in your hair as she ground her perfect pussy against your mouth and tongue until she came harder than she had for the rest of the night – and finally, she was spent, too.  

The two of you cuddled, but only because it was expected. Neither of you needed it. It was just a one-night stand.

In the morning, the two of you agreed to share her room, but only because it was easier that way. Maybe you’d screw again, or maybe you wouldn’t. It didn’t matter either way. She liked that about you. She liked how casual and easy it was to be with you.

Then she found out who you really were deep down. You didn’t just use her friends – you used everyone. You once made a profit off of trading lives, and in a way, so did she. It made sense that Steve and Bucky had reacted the way they did; they were good people, with good hearts.

You weren’t. Neither was she.

You were up late – told her you couldn’t sleep. For an hour or two, she’d cuddled with you in bed. It was more friendly than intimate, meant to help share your burden, but it didn’t. She didn’t really expect it to, but it was worth a try.

She was up late, too. It wasn’t that she was caught up in feelings for you or anything of the sort – she was just thinking. At first, she thought that Steve and Bucky would come around eventually. They always did when it came to you, for one, and for two, they’d accepted Natasha’s own past when that had been revealed to the world. It certainly took some time, but they did come around.

With this, though, she wasn’t so sure.

When her bedroom door cracked open quietly, she glanced over at you from the book in her lap. Her beside light was still on. It illuminated your features, and there was something about the look on your face that bothered her. She didn’t know where the boys were, but it sounded like someone had recently returned. Someone. A single person.

She doubted it was Bucky. If anyone was going to return alone, it would have been Steve.

You didn’t have to say a thing for her to know what you wanted.

Natasha held a hand out to you – easy, casual – and when you took it, she pulled you into bed with her. You straddled her hips and kissed her, needy and desperate. You needed to forget.

She’d help you. She understood.

Her kisses were heady and full of passion, and they took your breath away despite the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. She rolled you onto your back, leaning against your side, half-hovering over you as one of her hands trailed down your body. You were wearing the same t-shirt from today’s mission, but you’d taken off your bra and changed into a pair of pajama shorts at some point.

Her legs were bare, smooth and silky against yours, and her tongue swept into your mouth at the same time her hand dove into your panties. You knew she could taste the alcohol, but she knew you weren’t drunk. You arched up into her with a gasp as her fingers slid through your folds and circled your clit, before she slowly slipped one inside – just one. She wouldn’t be gentle with you, but she wasn’t going to be rough. Not tonight.  

Natasha’s lips were a hot brand on your neck, and she eased her finger inside of you so expertly that it finally pulled you completely out of your anxious thoughts and into the present. As she hooked it up into your g-spot, she muttered things to you – things in Russian that you didn’t understand, but it was a pleasant distraction, just like her.

When you were finally wet enough, she added another finger and started to use the heel of her hand on your clit, too. You didn’t last long after that. She kissed you again when you started to get a little too loud, swallowing your moans as she brought you up, higher and higher, until you fell over the edge with a strangled cry against her lips. You grasped desperately at the sheets and squirmed against her as you came, hot tears finally spilling down your cheeks.

That was when your fingers hooked in the elastic of her panties, intending to return the favour, but she shook her head just slightly and offered you a sympathetic smile. The way you were looking up at her, with half-lidded, teary eyes and flushed, tear-stained cheeks, was trusting and genuine. It was probably the most honest you’d ever been with anyone in a long, long time.

Her denial of you wasn’t a rejection. It was a kindness.

“Try to sleep,” she told you, slowly withdrawing her hand from your slick heat.

You shivered just a little at the feeling – at the loss.  

Natasha wiped her fingers with some tissues on the bedside table, and then she nudged you over a little, onto your side. Her arm was slim and warm around your waist as she spooned you, pressing gentle kisses to your shoulders and the back of your neck as she held you flush against her body.

Maybe it was because of your orgasm, or maybe it was because she was warm, but you finally managed to drift off. Your nightmares that night were worse than ever, but Natasha was there to wake you up. She reassured you that everything was fine, and in your half-asleep mind, you believed her.

In the morning, you realized that it had been a lie, but you didn’t blame her for it. She let you believe, at least for a few short hours, that everything was okay.

It was a mercy.

Nothing was okay.

You left the suite at dawn with nothing but your duffel, as if to prove a point – you didn’t need them. You didn’t need anyone.

It was never because you didn’t care, but because you didn’t deserve them. You didn’t deserve any of it.

Three quick raps on the intricate door of a large mansion on the outskirts of Cancun sounded just after seven in the morning. When the door opened, you smiled sweetly and were greeted with a familiar, “Welcome back, Princesa.”

End of Act I

Master List

[imhereforbvcky]

Watch Me Run - Part 12

Masterlist  -  Series Masterpage  -  Part 13

Summary: You inherit a family relic that gives you the gift of foresight but there are others who are interested for more nefarious reasons. You turn to the Avengers for help. (Bucky x reader) Chapter: Needing a sense of security, you ask Bucky to help you prepare to defend yourself against the worst case scenario. Loki grows frustrated with tactical.

Warnings: Murdery violence! Loki at his worst, soz. Swearing, as per usz.

Word Count: 2985

A/N: We’re moving a little! Bucket and the reader don’t know that... well okay nobody knows it yet. Except for me. 😁

Page after page of nothing flashed over the grainy screen. An inquisitive porcupine, several returning deer, and what Bucky guessed were passing birds, too quick for the trail cam to catch. These were the only things to interrupt the sea of trees. He thumbed through shot after shot, carefully examining each one, just to be sure. It had been weeks of the same.

“This isn’t a very exciting movie,” you teased, hovering over his shoulder.

He smirked, but didn’t respond, clicking over to the next image.

“I don’t see anything,” you complained.

“Probably a bird.”

“Or a bear!” you clapped your hands excitedly. “Are there polar bears up here? Maybe you just can’t see him!”

“I’d see him.”

“Somebody’s sure of himself.”

“I was a sniper,” he leveled you with a look half bored, half offended. “I think I could spot an eight hundred pound animal.”

“Then why are we eating re-hydrated beef out of a bag?” You held your sleeve of beef stroganoff, designed for backpackers, toward him with a challenging smirk.

“Because it’s too early in the season to shoot anything but rabbits.” He snatched the sleeve out of your hands and shoveled a spoonful into his mouth. “And they’re not worth the energy.”

“But it could be something to do!” you protested, “And useful! One less trip into town where we could be spotted.”

He only sighed, handing you back the sleeve of stroganoff before returning to the trail cam. You’d had this argument before. Many times. You had begged him to let you practice shooting with his weapons, to get comfortable with them, just in case. He had firmly denied your request, every time.

“Come on!” you begged. “We have nothing else to do, and it’ll be good for me to practice.”

“No.” His answer was definitive.

But you were persistent.

“Please, it will make me feel safer.”

“We’ve talked about this.”

“No, you’ve steam-rolled me about this.” You dropped the bag of noodles on the table and pushed closed fists into your hips.

If he weren’t so serious about this topic, he might’ve laughed. You reminded him so much of Steve sometimes. Small and stubborn. Passionate and compassionate.

“Alright,” he set the camera down and turned to face you, elbows on his knees, hands loosely clasped in front of him. “Talk.” He had no intention of changing his mind. But if you needed to talk it out… again… maybe this time it would stick.

That surprised you. Your head tipped, and your chin lifted. A small victory, or so you thought, so you dropped into the nearest chair, dragging it close, until your knees nearly touched.

“I feel vulnerable out here.”

“You’re not. I told you, you’re safe. How many times—“

“I know,” you placed a hand on his clasped pair. “I know you’re good at this. I’m not questioning that. It’s just… I had to give up everything. I’m out of my element, here. The one thing I do have,” you placed a hand over the talisman hanging at your chest, “Is just as confusing and frightening to me as it is helpful.”

Bucky listened. He hadn’t expected to be swayed, but this… he could understand. Even if the outcome couldn’t change.

“You’re always saying how the escape plan could save me. Being prepared, having control, right? It’s so important to you?” you pushed, begging him to understand. “Well I feel very, very out of control here.”

Bucky leaned back, a frown creasing his face. “I’m sorry. I hear you, but it’s still not a good idea. The answer’s no.”

“You have the ability to give me some power over this situation. Don’t you feel… I don’t know, morally obligated to help me?”

He sighed deeply and shook his head. “Not everyone is as bound to their compassion as you are.”

“The world would be a lot nicer place if they were,” you grumbled, crossing your arms and flopping back in your chair.

“The world is not a nice place.”

“Come on,” you begged. “You brought all those weapons, just show me one! What if something goes wrong and—“

“It won’t.”

Your head dropped to the side with a frown. “Bucky. You can’t plan for everything. There’s a difference between being prepared and being a control freak. That difference is called denial.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “I’m in control here. I’ve brought every weapon I think I’ll need to keep you safe and I won’t turn you into one of them just to make you feel better.” Bucky had gone from listening but firm, to deadly serious. “If anyone comes for you, they’ll be well-trained. Years of it. Training you to shoot would be… false confidence. Irresponsible.”

“Okay,” you nodded, relenting under the intensity of his command and wilting slightly with the reality of your peril. “I got it.”

��Your only job is to get the hell out of here, do you understand? I can’t have you second guessing that plan just because you can hold a revolver.”

“I said I got it,” you grumbled, springing from your chair and storming to the porch for air.

Bucky’s head dropped into his hands and he shoved them deep into his hair once you’d left the cabin. He could still see you through the window, kicking at weeds as you made your way over to the pile of firewood.

If he didn’t feel like such an ass, he might’ve laughed at the sight of you. Your frustration was futile against his will, but he heard it with empathy, nonetheless. The little ax stuck in the first log you’d struck while trying to break off kindling to blow off steam. The jerky imprecision told him your actions were more frustration than actual concern for the fire supply.

He knew he shouldn’t have snapped like that. He’d meant every word, but he hadn’t meant to anger you like this, to seem insensitive. It was just that he’d begun to break protocol in ways he couldn’t seem to get a handle on. There was a nearly imperceptible shift, a softening in the way he regarded you. Hell, even the fact that he was second guessing the conversation stood as clear evidence of that.

It made him want to dig his heels in wherever he could. None of it helped.

In any other circumstance, it wouldn’t matter. But this was a mission, an assignment. And he had a clear path. Only, it was getting harder and harder to think of you driving away. Yet if it came down to it, he needed you to do just that. Or worse.

“Damn it,” he cursed, shoving to his feet.

Nothing good could come of this. Nothing.

The logical, successful fugitive part of his brain told him it was better if you were afraid. It meant you would be more aware, you would follow the plan, you would run. But another part knew it wasn’t fair to keep you vulnerable and constantly fearful. The latter won out because there was a voice in his head that kept reminding him that he didn’t want you to fear one good god damn thing.

The longer he stayed in that cabin, watching you flail around with an axe stuck into a log, the louder that voice grew. When he caught himself smiling, a chuckle just punching out of his lungs, he decided.

He swept out the door with a shotgun in hand and a determined frown on his lips.

“Let’s go.”

The hundred year old brick trembled beneath the growing strength of the energy blistering from the blue mineral at the center of the long silver scepter.  Slender fingers tightened around the cool metal as a snarl rippled up Loki’s throat. One sharp and aimless slash of the scepter diagonally before his body and the wall before him gave way in a ripple of blue energy.

The soft whisper of paper over the dirtied, hard wood floor drew Loki’s attention. And his anger.

“How many more?” he demanded, glaring over his shoulder at the woman trembling in the doorway.

Wide eyes roved over the mess Loki had made of the house, wild with terror and watery with regret. Her mouth hung open, while her chin trembled. If not for the shock, she would have been wise enough to answer.

“HOW MANY MORE?!” This time his voice was like an avalanche, a rumble that built as loud as thunder, tone as sharp as ice and just as cold. As he shouted he struck the base of the scepter against the floor and a wave of blue energy snapped out in a plane across the house. It creaked and groaned under the force, in the same way a frozen lake snaps and buckles in springtime.

“Th-this was the last one.” The engineer trembled as dry-wall dust fell around her, and the mortar cracked overhead. The entire house and everything in it trembled under his rage.

Loki took a slow deep breath in through his nose, face rising away from the puppet who’d failed him. The shimmering blue had left her eyes, his control relinquished when he realized this was the final dead end. Now composed, he stepped toward her with a deadly calm and a dangerously slow pace. Anger would not serve him here, not anymore.

“The last one,” he echoed her words, reaching for the badge clipped to her belt on a retractable coil. “And they’re not here.”

She shook her head, watching, unable to speak. Her breath came in sharp, frantic puffs while he drew the small clear plastic card closer, examining the bright red lettering. Stark Industries.

“And you’re sure your code was successful?” his tone was gentle, almost soothing. It did nothing to calm her.

She swallowed thickly before answering. “Y-yes. These are all the safe houses in Avengers’ possession. And SHIELD’s. And anything that was even mentioned on the Stark Industries servers.”

“And yet,” he raised a flattened palm, glancing around the room. “Empty.”

“I did everything I could,” she breathed, stumbling half a step back. “Everything you asked.”

“I know,” he smiled. The venom flashed in his eyes and soured his grin to a sinister bite. It made the woman’s stomach churn. “But you’ve failed. And now, you have no use to me. Worse yet, you’ve become a liability.”

Before she could even inhale a breath in protest, Loki conjured a long slender dagger, spun it quickly in his fist and plunged it with inhuman force deep between bone. He had struck quickly and precisely, with enough force to break through the cartilage of her rib-cage and dive straight into the sinewy muscles of her heart.

The engineer blinked down at the blade protruding from her chest. It wasn’t until he withdrew the darkened knife that she gasped, gurgling and wet, choking on death itself before it swiftly claimed her.

Loki was cunning and patient, but he was also a warrior. And when his patience ran thin, he knew where to strike. He’d hoped with a swift strike, he could avoid an all-out war with Midguard and its Avengers. That no longer seemed possible.

With a sharp sigh and a scowl on his lips, Loki took one last glance at the rubble before he set off, once more, for the heart of his operation.

“Bullseye!” you shouted. “That was a bullseye, right?”

Bucky could hear the smile in your voice. He could feel it on him like a warm candle in the cold northern air.

“High,” he answered, a grin of his own turning his lips, his eyes still pressed to the binoculars.

“What! No way. Lemme see!”

“Is the safety on?” His tone a clear warning that he knew it wasn’t.

You flipped the small notch and turned to him again. “Is now! Let’s see!”

He chuckled and handed the binoculars over. You pressed a clumsy hand against your hair, pushing it out of the way. It fell right back into place. Without thinking, Bucky reached forward and held a strand back just as you swept the binoculars into place.

First, he wondered if you’d noticed. Second he wondered why the hell he’d done it. Third, he wondered, when it had become so easy to reach out like this. At what point had he become so damn comfortable that it seemed normal to touch your hair or brush your cheek?

It suddenly felt too intimate, and he retracted his hand, nearly took a step back. Your head swiveled at the motion, just a fraction, and he flushed with regret. Whether he regretted the touch or the withdrawal, he couldn’t say.

“It’s the gun,” you decided. “It’s gotta be a hundred years old.”

“That weapon is in perfect condition.” He held his hands out for the binoculars, with an open palm. In it, he held a new round. An even exchange. “Try again. Aim for the bottom of the second ring this time.”

You took the ammunition and sighed, turning the weapon sideways to load it. Like every time, you mentally walked yourself through each of Bucky’s instructions.

“This is a single barrel shotgun,” he’d explained days before. “You need to load it every time you shoot.”

You’d nodded, trying to absorb every detail he shared.

“We’re using slugs for practice because I want you to focus on aim,” he’d reached into his pocket and showed you the thick green casing, tipped by what looked to you like a huge rounded bullet.

Another nod. “’Kay.”

He’d shoved the slug back in his pocket and reached into another. “But if you have to use this on somebody to protect yourself,” he turned out a bright red shell this time. “I want you to use buck shot.”

You swallowed, throat suddenly dry and tight.

“You’re gonna be nervous and full of adrenaline,” he’d explained. “I don’t expect you to be a marksman, and this’ll get the job done. If it doesn’t kill ‘em, it’ll sure as hell slow ‘em down. Understand?”

You’d taken a shaky breath then and nodded, eyes on the shot in his hand and trying not to imagine too vividly the bloody array it signified. “Red for trouble. Got it.”

Now though, you gently, steadily pushed the forest green slug into the oblong slot on the gun. These unfamiliar motions of violence were becoming easier by the day. But then again, you were only shooting at paper.

“This time I’ll hit it.” You grinned up at Bucky, half a taunt on your lips as you gripped the pump and pulled. The unmistakable swoosh-kerchunk alerted you both that you’d loaded and cocked the weapon properly.

“It’s loaded now,” Bucky had explained to you the first time ‘round.

“It sounds like a movie,” you’d whispered. Half awe, half horror.

“This is not a movie,” he’d been quick to contradict.

“I know.”

“It’s not a game or a dream,” sharp grey eyes bore down on you. “That is the international ‘back the fuck up’ sound. You load this weapon, you’d better be ready to fire it.”

You couldn’t have helped laughing if you’d wanted to. You’d been so high strung, and it was just too much.

“That was very dramatic.”

He’d merely shrugged. “Few sounds will light a fire under someone’s ass quicker than a pump-action shotgun. One way or another.”

“Wow.”

“What?”

“You are such a soldier.” There was a scowl in your eyes but a smirk on your lips. Teasing, but truthful. “You gonna make me do push-ups next?”

He’d chuckled, but shook his head. He looked serious and a little sad when he looked down at you again. “You asked me to teach you to shoot so you’d feel ready to defend yourself. Drawing a gun takes a conversation in exactly one direction. You need to be prepared for that. If it comes down to you loading that weapon while we’re here, you shoot to kill. And then you run.”

Run. That was still your best shot if things went south. Turn your back and run.

You hated it. For all the power you held in your hands, deadly and loud, you still felt powerless in a battle of gods.

This time, after days of practice, you did as Bucky said and aligned your aim just low of the center ring. It felt odd, to aim off-target, but you trusted him.

Just like he’d instructed, you gently squeezed the trigger on a smoothly released breath. Your shoulder ached now from the repeated buck of the stock against the blast.

“Better,” Bucky praised, lowering the binoculars and offering them to you. This time, you remembered the safety.

“Ish,” you complained.

He chuckled. “Hit the paper this time.”

“Is that going to be good enough?”

His smile froze for a fraction of a second before it faded. The storm returned to the grey of his eyes.

He gave a sharp nod to the binoculars in your hand before withdrawing a handful of slugs. You watched him for too long. Before you could think to raise the binoculars he’d pushed a slug into the slot and braced the rifle to his shoulder.

One round.

You got the hint and put the binoculars to your eyes to look down the make-shift range. Upper left corner.

“Ha!” you taunted, but he’d already reloaded. “Told you the gun’s no good.”

Two. Dead center.

Oh.

Three. Bottom right.

Four. Upper right.

“Okay, I get it.” You rolled your eyes.

Five. Dead center. The shot lay so tight over his second that you could barely tell the paper had been blown open wider. Just barely.

Six. Bottom left. A perfect X fired into the paper.

You threw up your hands in defeat. “Fine, you win. Gun’s fine. I’m not a good shot.”

He carefully set the shotgun down and looked to you with that unwavering certainty that nearly had you believing everything would all be alright. “You don’t have to be.”

Part 13 >>

[phynali]

If given the chance, how would you rewrite the MCU?

Anon. Anon. Anon.

How wouldn’t I?

I mean - okay, there’s a lot you have to keep the same just for the sake of like, continuity, clarity, and keeping the bones there.

I’d probably keep all the original movies in Phase 1 as they are with only minor tweaks. I’d fix the mess that was Iron Man 2. I’d give Black Widow and Hawkeye a movie of their own to establish their characters. Hmm, I can see that coming after the first Avengers, possibly.

The first Avengers film though, that’s where I would make the first major changes. 

Loki’s characterization is a mess and not properly explained in canon. I’d put him more obviously under Thanos’s thumb. I’d fix Cap’s messed up characterization. I wouldn’t have Thor show up when he does because, hey - bifrost issues. We’d see him and Heimdall from Asgard trying to work on that problem and let them find a cogent way to get Thor to earth. So, he’d show up for the final battle and to take Loki home. He’d be the ace in the hole that helps allow the Avengers to assemble and overtake Loki.

Okay, so fix Iron Man 2. I can barely remember it but I know it needs fixing.

Cap 2 I’d leave intact. I might give Hulk a follow-up movie tbh, or rather, probably tie him in to the Black Widow and Hawkeye movie that would follow the first Avengers.

Also put more female heroes front and centre earlier on. And especially WoC. 

Big issues arise by the time we get to Age of Ultron. Fix that hot mess of a movie.

Hawkeye doesn’t have a family and a farm. That was weird. Erase that shit. Don’t set up a romance between Nat and Bruce. Don’t - 

Look, I mean no disrespect to Tony stans - 

Don’t make every problem in the MCU something that was inadvertently caused by Tony. Because like every Iron Man movie involves a villain who felt scorned by him, and then AoU was caused by him messing with the Mind Stone (Bruce too, okay, but Bruce isn’t the one with the narrative trend here) and all the villains in the Spider-Man movies, and then there’s how shit played out in Civil War and - 

Okay so fix AoU. Have the Mind Stone literally take on a life of it’s own and don’t fucking make it the fault of Tony’s hubris, okay. Make it more accidental and incidental than it was. Don’t make it something that happened overnight from tinkering. 

And for the love of god, make it so that Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver did not sign up to be experimented on, but rather keep their comic origins. They’re Jewish Romani PoC. Give them a narrative that’s authentic to those identities.

I also would not fucking kill off Quicksilver, what the honest fuck?

Actually also don’t just make up a random country and code it a given way and then destroy it. I know it’s an MCU movie and therefore actually needs a giant CGI battle at the end, but okay - Age of Ultron. Stretch that shit out. Make it more clever. Show some more subtle and almost… guerilla tactics from the Avengers, taking down Ultron’s armies? Instead of a single battle in a country we don’t know about and haven’t been told to care about from a narrative standpoint, have Ultron go after their friends and families, have them fight smart and mean but no less visually pleasing to watch. The Avengers don’t have the numbers on Ultron’s army, but they can (and do) recruit Wanda and Maximo and they fight their fight using all their resources - not just their fists.

Okay so let’s move on.

iron Man 3 was great, but the whole bit with Pepper being kidnapped? Not that into it, personally. Also not into her getting powers and then getting them taken away. There was a lot to love about that movie, but so many Iron Man movies tease at this idea of Tony wanting to retire, or getting out, and they need to just back off that and let him own his heroism. That movie navigates so much so well so let it be.

Okay - 

Thor 2? Don’t fucking kill Thor’s mom. Friga deserves better. Stop motivating male characters by killing women. Let Loki and Thor come together by Friga being injured, by their dad dying, by a desire to bring their mother joy - whatever. Just - don’t kill her. I’m still pissed about how much they take from Thor over time.

I’d keep Cap 2 the same, and the only changes I’d make to GotG would be - 

Okay wait actually. There are huge glaring issues with that movie. Gamora is poised to be the hero of these movies and finds herself as the damsel in distress or incapable whenever the narrative needs her to be. I fucking hate it. Let her shine more. Show instead of tell. Let each character develop in their own right rather than dropping some random backstory notes in expository dialogue. Build up to the notion that it’s super weird Quill can hold the Stone and actually like… acknowledge it in the movie. You can keep the story basically the same but fix things with Gamora’s narrative, please please please.

Okay Ant-Man is great. There’s a huge narrative issue within the entire MCU with how they exclude Janet Van-Dyne though, and how she isn’t introduced until now even though she should be a fundamental member of the Avengers. I would almost like, at some point in Phase 1-3, a movie with Janet at the helm, possibly (to keep their timeline intact), her working with Peggy, working with SHIELD, with a young Fury or something, and laying the groundwork for the Avengers. A lot of what Captain Marvel eventually did, but situated fully on earth, and coming much sooner in the MCU itself.

Civil War was a hot mess. They needed to actually explain and detail both sides and the problems with them. It functioned amazing as an introduction to Black Panther and I love it for that, but it wasn’t a Cap movie, not really, and I’m bitter about it. This movie should have focused around the Black Panther, Cap, Bucky narrative, and dropped the whole Civil War with the other Avengers stuff entirely. 

Actually - Civil War needs to be either an entirely separate movie on its own or else… drop it. Deal with it differently. That airport fight was an embarrassment. Let the Avengers break down during Cap 3 if you need do, but make it more interpersonal and tense, and less throwing punches and locking each other up. Make it more human, more relatable, because those were the best parts of that whole divide. Make it real for the viewer, for fuck’s sake. Don’t have Tony (seriously what’s with them making him do villainous things and painting them as heroic) blackmail a literal child into a battlezone???? 

Okay - and Cap issues, they need to either set up Agent 13 aka Sharon Carter as a proper love interest sooner, or else drop that. They drop breadcrumbs of her in a few movies but that’s it. It feels hollow between them by the time they actually kiss. They should either keep their dynamic as “could have been but whoops, nope” or have done more to set them up together in Cap 2. 

(Totally honest, total bias here - take out love interests altogether or let Cap be the bi icon that he should be and let him and Falcon hook up in Cap 2. Let the fact that he was in love with Bucky be canon but you don’t need to set them up as a couple. Let it be recognized that they love each other but god there’s too much there, too much mess, they don’t need to be together in the present to acknowledge that history. Either way keep the Bucky and Sam dynamic because it’s amazing).

Doctor Strange - fix the casting. The racism, appropriation - just - wow. Use this as an opportunity to introduce more Asian and East Asian characters and actors into the MCU rather than it being the appropriative mess that it is. Keep the cool visuals though, and the cape. The narrative itself isn’t bad, but spend less time establishing this asshole character and more time establishing the side characters and the dynamics between them because those are far more interesting.

GotG 2 - uhhhh… okay what was this? Peter Quill is Ego’s son, but how does that really advance anything in the MCU or about the character or … ? Just fix the whole goddamn plot, I don’t even know. Tie this shit into Thanos way better. Introduce that better. Make this movie more interesting, make Nebula the Big Bad of it, honestly. Dive into the other members of the Guardians and give them their backstories and plots that they deserve. Is this the Guardians or the Peter Quill show? I don’t know I just - just fix this, okay?

Thor Ragnarok and Black Panther need no fixing. Remember that in this version of the MCU, Thor’s mom is alive, so that’s there. She’s still on Asgard and with Heimdall and being awesome, and we get some awesome interactions between her and Hel because we fucking deserve that, okay? Also Valkyrie’s bi scenes aren’t deleted (fuck you, Marvel execs). I would love love love for Killmonger not to die at the end of Black Panther, personally, but I wouldn’t change much more than that.

Oh wait I forgot - with the whole Bucky in Wakanda thing? Fucking take that out or do something narratively with it. It’s the weirdest brushed-aside thing that serves no genuine narrative purpose. I’d err on the side of taking it out entirely, personally. 

Infinity War is fine, leave it as-is more or less, except for - 

Okay, so we need textual discussion and canonical pushback against Thanos’s ideals. Because so many people came out of that movie all “oh but he’s got a point - population is expanding blah blah blah” and it was such fucking bullshit. We needed Gamora to point out why Thanos was fucking wrong - why her people were not actually better off after he killed half of them, thank you very much. We needed Tony to point out “population doesn’t work that way, it’ll bounce back in 50 years - do you plan to keep doing this each time? why not double resources?”. We needed people to tell the audience not just that Thanos was bad, but why he was bad, and that there is no ‘random’ and he needed to be a monster and selfish and it needed to be way more clear that his was not a sublime ideal of a detached idol, but rather the ravings of an entitled man whose gone unhinged and hateful.

Okay. So that. And don’t make the final battle just decimate Wakandan soil and its army? Why do they have to fight Earth’s battles for it? Let that be a joint effort and not just a Wakandan one, jfc. I get that you had the set ready and all, but no, don’t treat Wakanda like that, it deserves better. If ever there was a time to blow the budget on a final fight, this would be it, so freaking do it and have that battle be in space and over earth and at many different locations but then zeroing in on where Vision is (which itself can be in Wakanda because it’s safest but yeah).

And honestly I wouldn’t make it so Gamora died, like wtf. I hated that. I hated the whole bit with the Soul Stone. I could swallow it if what they did was have Gamora turn into the Soul Stone - so that she could, as the stone, set up a sabotage to Thanos.

Okay - more on that. Let’s talk about Endgame. Endgame needs so much goddamn fixing. Holy fuck does it need fixing.

Okay - okay where do I even start. I make myself mad whenever I think about it. 

Five years? Five fucking years? What the fuck is wrong with you, Russo brothers? Time travel? What - just - 

I hated that movie with a passion.

Okay - so the Snap happened. Pick up right after. Give us the fucking shock and horror. Give us the attempt to regroup, just quick, the intense emotions - people punching walls. Show us snippets of the world quickly, news casts etc. This is a horror, let it be one. Own the shit that you did.

Give us a time skip-montage. A month out, the pressure is on to the Avengers to fix this. The Avengers are all traumatized. Clint doesn’t have a family in this version, and doesn’t go all terminator. Thor - he wouldn’t have as much time to spiral but let him get there, let him be unwell, unkempt, let him own his suffering because goddamn he’s lost so much. (oh I forgot, I actually wouldn’t kill Loki and Heimdall because wtf wtf I hate you Infinity War, but let’s move on - )

Five months - people are losing hope. There are therapy sessions. Cap is a mess. Everyone blames themselves. Tony “if I’d only made the call to Cap sooner, we could have worked together” (also he and Nebula make it to earth fast, none of that lost in space and starving stuff), Cap “if only I hadn’t been so arrogant as to not trade lives”, Thor “if only I’d gone for the head”, etc etc. let it be clear that it’s not just Thor’s fault and not just Peter Quill’s fault - that all of those in charge of decision making fucked up.

Ant-Man isn’t freaking saved by a rat, thank you. He comes out of the quantum realm on his own merits, some safeguard, only to realize shit’s messed up. He and Janet work together with the remaining Avengers. maybe Janet saved him from the quantum realm this time? what a nice parallel to him saving her. anyway, they use the quantum realm to find thanos. Or - fuck that, they use Nebula to find Thanos. She knows shit. What they use the quantum realm for is to realize that all the souls that were lost in the snap aren’t ‘dead’ dead, they’re in stasis. They’re in a liminal space - they’re in the Soul Stone. Because Gamora is the stone and she sucked up all those lives and is holding them, holding for dear life but she can’t hold on forever (make sure the stakes are high, they feel real, the clock is ticking). Captain Marvel teams up with them of course. they track down thanos.

“but Phyn” you say, “thanos still has all the stones? how can they defeat him?” great question! difficult to answer! i’m not sure! with the power of love! 

okay but really - they have an awesome team. they need to work smarter than the enemy, not harder. they can take out thanos’s generals. they can use nebula to slip past defenses. if loki were alive, which he should be, they can use his magic. if friga were alive, which she should be, they can use hers. if heimdall were alive, which he should be, they can use his eyes. they can use the magic of all the magicians in the doctor strange films. they have captain marvel.

but they will never win on might alone, or magic alone - not against a full complement of infinity stones. not unless - 

have you seen Avatar: The Last Airbender? if so - you know how Azula gets a little unhinged toward the end? she’s just a kid, i feel for her, but the point for here is that she does enough shit and gets what she (thinks she) wants and it takes a devastating toll on her. using the stones, clearing half the life in the universe - that took a toll on thanos. it was a terrible choice. he’s in denial, in self-deception about that. he’s coming apart at the seams. he’s not all chill about it, he’s spiralling hard. he lost half his army too, after all. and life doesn’t seem improved. he can hear the cries of the souls locked in the soul stone (not that he realizes what he’s hearing nor acknowledges it) and it’s like the beating heart under the floorboards. his crimes have left scars. he’s not well. physically, from the toll of the Snap, nor mentally, from everything else it took out of him.

let gamora save the fucking day. let her and Vision and their stones - hell, let Loki (maybe he’s fused with the tesseract and maybe thanos did kill him to acheive that, or maybe something else) - let the stones respond to people. to quill. to freaking Jane Goddamn Foster. let the stones’ connections to life undermine and corrupt thanos and his connection to death.

is it cheesy? maybe. is it better than time travel bullshit? definitely. because it uplifts. because it draws from heroes in all the movies, even unlikely ones. people who’ve touched the stones, held them, melded with them. it assumes that the stones aren’t static entities, that they are just as alive as us, in a way we can’t comprehend, and so much more. they resonate with the universe, and thanos has done something that scarred the universe. let this be rectified, not through the actions of a man’s sacrifice, but through the actions, big and small, of a ton of people, of unlikely heroes, of those who suffered personally at his hand, at the hands of the stones - let it be the will of half the goddamn universe to see thanos fall.

let the snap-back happen when thanos loses control over the stones (he’s been holding on tight this whole time, can’t let it slip, the stones have a ‘mind’ of their onw). let it happen again right before the final battle against his armies. let him not have the power to immediately re-snap, hand burnt by the force of the snap-back, and let thor take off his fucking arm this time. let nebula take off his fucking head. let there be a huge final battle with everyone alive and ready to go down swinging once again.

and okay, i’m okay with tony dying. i’d be game for him to die by destroying the stones, tbh - taking them out of existence henceforth so they can never be used like this again, even though it kills him. i think that would honestly be a really fulfilling conclusion to the narrative set up in the first Iron Man film - the reformed arms dealer destroying the ultimate weapons in the universe.

by this way - there’s been 5-8 months or something like that, not 5 years, but why not have Pepper be pregnant, why not have a little child who’ll get to live on after he’s gone, even if that kid won’t remember him? she’ll get to live in a universe that exists and is safe because of him.

i’d be okay with cap dying in this movie too (much better than him going back and stealing peggy’s life from her by changing her history, wtf wtf wtf). i refuse to accept nat dying in clint’s place, that was bullshit and totally not necessary in this version. gamora is also back, not from the past but from the present, and with her sister again. this time nebula got to save gamora, isn’t there some poetic justice in that?

okay okay that’s all that. whew.

I forgot about Captain Marvel. It was decent, I liked it. It wasn’t my favorite in the sense that it was laid out odd when it came to falling in love with this character. Like I wouldn’t change much of the plot but I’d change the… storytelling? The emotions used to connect us to Carol. Give us more of her past from the start, before you introduce her. Give us her childhood. And let Maria be her girlfriend, fucking please.

Okay - now we’re at Far From Home. I didn’t mention Homecoming before but the problem with both of these movies is one I mentioned earlier - that the villains are byproducts of choices made by Tony Stark. That’s a problem. There’s just so many goddamn movies in which that’s the ultimate villain and it fucks with Tony’s characterization so much. How am I supposed to love Tony (which I want to?) when he’s got satellites with drones that can attack anyone he names, tech not that unlike the tech Hydra was aiming to make. Sure, he won’t use it the same, but why the fuck does he have it? Giving it to Peter is all well and good, but - they have interacted maybe a grand total of 5 times? 

The relationship between Peter and Tony is cute but if you stop for a second, it’s annoying as hell that it’s built up to what it is. Peter gets recruited by Tony, mostly works with Happy and not Tony in Civil War, and then gets ignored by Tony for months and months on end, then Tony shows up and scolds him and takes his suit, and then invites him to be an Avenger when he doesn’t fuck up, and then they go off to space and Peter dies, and then everyone comes back to life and Tony dies. Why the fuck would Tony entrust Peter with this Edith system that allows him to kill anyone on Earth? Actually, fuck that, entrust is the wrong word - why the fuck would Tony put that weight on the shoulders of a child?

Far From Home is great but Tony’s post-mortem role in it makes almost no sense. Let Peter’s movies be about Peter and not about the shadow and then the ghost of Tony Stark. Please. I love Tony, I do, but if you stop and think for one second, you have to jump mental hoops to absolve the shit Tony does in Peter’s movies, and for many of us, it leaves a really awful taste in our mouths.

anyway - i probably missed stuff. that’s just what’s currently top of mind. #whoops