#hell maybe zemo realized that and that's why he's slightly more chill with bucky than he is confirmed supersoldiers

[logansgaar]

forever fascinated by the implication that it was easier for HYDRA and the Soviets to steal top secret and highly guarded serums from S.H.I.E.L.D and another global superpower on at least two separate occasions than it was to synthesize their own super soldier serum from Bucky's blood

Steve said "huh, guess he's a super soldier too" and they all rolled with that. Bucky being a super soldier is still technically nothing more than a hypothesis

[writingtoforgetreality]

Stockholm Syndrome (Helmut Zemo x Reader)

[Marvel-Masterlist]

Summary: During the fight with the Dora Milaje in his safe-house, Zemo made an exit. But not alone. For inexplicable reasons, he dragged you along. Probably because he wanted to mess with Sam & Bucky. Would the Baron kill you? Or worse?

Words: 4,083

Warnings: language, angst, fluff (?), kidnapping, spoilers for TFATWS, (Let’s put the angsty shit in this part & the fun stuff in the second one.), (Y/E/C) = your eye color, REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

The fight in front of you held your entire attention. Eyes focused on moving bodies, kicking, punching their way through. While you were not inexperienced when it came to battling, you preferred holding back. Bruises were not necessarily your favorite. Not these kind of bruises at least. All your ears could make out was the grunting radiating from the combat. Hence why the movements behind you stayed inconspicuous. Only when a cloth pressed against your nose & you had no choice but to breathe in, did you notice the jeopardy of the situation. Darkness enveloped you. The last thing you perceived was a dark silhouette picking you up. As much as you wanted to fight back, to defend yourself, it was impossible. All strength had dissipated. Whatever was happening, you hoped you would wake up again. This could not be how you died. You would not die.

Pain woke you up. But you were not hurt. At least that was what you remembered. Then it came to you. Someone had kidnapped you. If your eyes did not open soon, you would regret it later. Heavy eyelids slowly opened. Though it took many attempts to keep them that way. You scanned the room. There were no windows, no light which would have made that task easier. It took a few minutes to adjust to the obscureness. And once you did, you found yourself as perplexed as before. No restraints were obstructing your motions. Technically, you could up & leave. But it was never that simple, was it? The door was opposite of you. Your muscles were still sore. The act of standing up & waltzing over seemed like too much effort for you. The bleakness of the wall your back rested against was a more welcomed sensation. Your knees scooted closer to your chest. Arms raking around them, you hugged yourself. Hoping it would bring you a bit of comfort. Your brain failed to work properly. Because you were stumped. Who could have possibly seized you? Walker was busy getting his ass kicked. Lemar imitated his partner, pretty much. Sam ordered Bucky to help out & went into the battle right after. And Zemo was… Yeah, where the hell was Zemo during all of that? If you recalled correctly, he held a drink in his hand. Like you, he kept away from the fight. And then? You were aware that the Baron was not a saint. Neither were you. But you did not believe he would pull something like that. Then again, it was Zemo. Nobody knew his next step. Nobody but himself. Your foot tapped a rhythm on the cold, grey pavement. Usually, when your anxiety acted up, you distracted yourself. Fiddling with your hands or bouncing your legs. Something you could focus on that was not life threatening to your mind. The unknown beat managed to calm you down the slightest. Whoever held you hostage would be back soon. Your gut feeling told you so much.

Maybe you dosed off again. Because your body flinched when a creak reached your ears. Quickly, you looked around for possible threats. The only thing that had changed was the door sitting ajar. Only a diminutive gap. It was noticeable due to the light illuminating the room. There was no piece of furniture which meant that nobody lived here. It resembled a cell. But even cells had a bed, a chair. Something. The room turned dim again but only for a second. A shadow, you figured. Your captivator was here. So close, in fact, goosebumps erupted. A chill ran down your spine. This single interaction could modify your imprisonment. You still needed time to consider a successful escape plan. Which meant that you needed to observe the person keeping you here. Movies displayed such situations more than once. It was manageable. If they decided to show themselves & reveal their identity. Your eyes fell to the boots first. Black or a dark brown that was not detectable due to the lack of brightness. Next were the pants. Black again. The end of a coat came into view. Dark grey, almost anthracite. Your thoughts instantly went to one person. You could be mistaken. He was not the only one with a coat like that. Your gaze flickered up to his hands. The leather gloves were proof enough. Your (Y/E/C) eyes locked onto his brown ones. There was no shock written over your features. After all, deep down, you awaited this sight to be met with. As much as you wanted to withhold it, your eyes rolled & the sigh that left your lips was one of pure exhaustion. Zemo never made a secret out of it. His dislike for you started off the moment he first laid his eyes on you. From then on, it only seemed to increase steadily. You were a simple person. If someone treated you like shit, you returned that favor with pleasure & ten times worse.

“You are awake.” he stated the obvious after his frame entered through the doorway.

“Pretty sure I’m still dreaming.” you replied sarcastically, your elbows propping onto your knees. A smirk formed at the corners of his mouth. Whatever you said, it was the wrong thing.

“You dream about being locked inside a small cell? And I make an appearance as well? This does sound problematic, (Y/N). Nothing I would not be able to help you with.” he enjoyed this. Disgust made itself shown onto your face.

“Yeah? How could you possibly help me with that?” it took you a second to fully realize what you said. Immediately, you corrected yourself. “You know what? I don’t even wanna know.” your head rested in your hands, slightly embarrassed by turning this conversation awkward. Maybe it would have been more convenient if you just kept quiet. Zemo chuckled shortly but did not comment on it again.

“I assume you wonder why you are here.” the Baron observed your small frame on the floor. It was easy to recognize how uncomfortable you were.

“Your assumption might be correct.” your head tilted upwards, trying to hide the fear. Burying it deep down. You needed to think clearly so you could escape him.

“Would you like me to declare your purpose?” he questioned, eyebrows raising.

“Enlighten me, Baron.” you wasted no time with your reply. Maybe you imagined it but you could have sworn that his muscles tensed up when you called him by his title. You were the weaker one here so you kept your jokes at bay.

“I have no desire to get involved with the Wakandans. A getaway is more enjoyable with a suitable associate.” his hands gestured & you fathomed the seriousness behind his words.

“Oh, so that’s what I am now? An associate? Could’ve sworn I was your enemy. Improvement, I guess.” you focused on a lighter spot that interrupted the evenly dark color of the cement wall.

“I never declared you my enemy. That is solely your imagination.” Zemo stared at you but you would not give him the satisfaction of holding eye contact with him. He did not deserve it.

“I prefer my imagination then.” you stated & earned another chuckle from the Baron.

“Our departure is soon.” he let you know & left you alone once again. Great, so he did have a plan for you. But it did not seem like he wanted to murder you brutally. Basically, you could do nothing. The lock of the door clicked. No way out of this room. And your cellphone was no longer with you. He probably removed it from you while you were unconscious.

The drug Zemo had you breathe in really affected you. Tiredness rushed through you still. Falling asleep once again was inevitable. A steady, loud noise stirred you from your slumber. When your eyes opened, the chair you were seated in felt familiar. Your surroundings were not new to you. It was Zemo’s private jet. No sight of him. No sight of Sam & Bucky. The only company was the engine of the small plane, creating a ringing in your ears. Surprisingly, you were well rested. Your sleep schedule was messed up. On a good day, you slept for three hours. On a normal day, though, you were lucky if the dreamland even invited you in. Did that mean that you should thank Zemo? For drugging you? Your gratitude could stay inside, for now. It was kind of embarrassing to admit that you had enough rest because of him stunning you. All it would do was feeding his ego. He had enough of that already. Would it be clever to hop out of a plane that was thousands of feet in the air? A clever suicide mission, maybe. Zemo would not harm you. If he truly wanted to, you would be a ghost already. Where was he anyway? Certainly, he would not leave your side after kidnapping you. A look down your lap confirmed what you had feared. The trembling of your hands was noticeable. Almost worse than usual. If push came to shove, you could defend yourself perfectly fine. The Baron did not strike you as a fighter type of guy. Sure, he could handle a gun. In reality, the one thing he could really handle was his alcohol. If you had been in a cell for almost ten years, you would not be able to cope with this world either. Now that you were thinking about it...when was Zemo not drinking? Ever since you guys had teamed up, he had taken every chance to get some liquor into his system.

“How are you feeling?” a voice startled you. The cause of it was your dear captivator. His strut brought him over to you, taking a seat right opposite of you. Plopping down onto the soft cushion with a sigh, he intertwined his fingers in front of his chest. His chin rested on the back of them. The intensity with which he eyed you was unsettling. Your body curled together, shifting away from his rigid glance. The man in front of you frowned. Never before had you behaved that way. Usually, you were sarcastic, humorous. Your current state was uncommon. The fight or flight instinct kicked in. If you played by his rules, the cards were on your side. So the only natural thing was to answer him.

“Okay.” it was short but the tone held much meaning.

“Okay is not good.” he mumbled quietly, though you could still make out his words. The clouds outside of the window you were sitting next to looked like cotton. Smooth, soft. Perfect if you wanted to jump in. The sunset colored the sky in various, bright hues. A phenomenon. That was something that had always fascinated you. “Astonishing, is it not?” the silence broke when he spoke up yet again. You nodded, still gazing outside.

“We will arrive soon.” another voice joined you. The startle from your side could not be stopped. You hated how jumpy you were. Especially during such a situation. The strong, independent woman you usually were was gone. Right now, you were like a little girl, awaiting punishment for misbehavior. Apparently, the Baron was a mind reader because he soothed your worries immediately.

“You did nothing wrong, if that is one of your concerns.” he started. His eyes then flickered to the other man on the private jet. “Thank you, Oeznik.” small smiles were exchanged between the two of them. The assistant disappeared through a door again. Zemo being the only company left.

“Where are we going?” you had to know.

“Somewhere safe. Where nobody can locate me.” as his eyes met yours, he finished. “Us.” your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. His explanation was not helpful at all. You were still left in the dark. Your destination was unknown but he assured you that you would be safe. Zemo would never lie about something so significant. This bugging feeling was still present. If he did not tell you more about the location, maybe he could elucidate this.

“Why me? Why, out of everyone, did you kidnap me?” slight anger was behind your eyes but one could only notice if they looked precisely. The Baron’s head tilted. In amusement, you guessed. His forming smile held a hint of another emotion you could not quite identify.

“Kidnapping is such a harsh word, don’t you think?” was it mockery you could hear? “I believe there is no need for us to repeat our previous conversation. I told you why you’re here.” he stood up from his seat, dragging his body to the very end of the plane. There, he picked up two small glasses. The liquid of the half empty bottle of scotch poured a good amount in both of them. Evidently, one for him & one for you. His hand stretched out towards you & he offered you the drink. You eyed it suspiciously. While you were not one for drinking alcohol, maybe it would assist to calm your nerves. In the end, you reached for it, touching his hand in the process. The skin contact sent an unintended chill down your spine. Goosebumps were forming. The pit of your stomach felt odd. Never before had you experienced such a sensation. Though, & you had to admit that, it was everything but unpleasant. Your body language spoke louder than you would have liked. And it did not go unnoticed by the man in front of you. To avoid an awkward tension, he decided against commenting on your body’s reaction.

The first sip made you wince. A burning sensation washed down your throat. The Baron handled his alcohol way better than you did, that much was obvious. Unfortunately, the liquor did not numb your anxiety right away. The effect was awaited but luck was not on your side. Would it be rude to ask for another drink? The downside was not realizing how strong it was. If you got wasted then Zemo could take advantage of your state. Depended on how he defined taking advantage of you. The conversation that had died down for a while was resurrected. This time, it was you. This shocked not only you but also him.

“I don’t like you.” you stated monotonously.

“I am aware.” he chuckled, taking a sip of his drink.

“You don’t like me either.” one of your eyebrows raised.

“An incorrect assumption.” his hands gestured to emphasize his words. You rolled your eyes, throwing your arms up in frustration.

“A freaking obvious fact.” you breathed out, falling back into your chair. The softness caressed you tenderly. A hum left you & your previous desperation was replaced by some sort of relaxation. Why did your emotions change so quickly? One moment, you were scared. The next, you were furious. Then, you untightened. All in the presence of the man who had kidnapped you.

“What is going through your mind right now?” seemed like he was eager to talk to you. Comfortable silence with Baron Zemo was not possible. It was either awkward or not quiet at all. Your head snapped into his direction. He was deep in thought. Occupied with whatever his mind came up with.

“I-I don’t know.” you were being honest. Spending more time with him meant no lies. At least not about such things. The next question came naturally. “What about you?” one corner of his lips lifted slightly. The first step in the right direction. Deep down, Zemo was aware that you did not exactly hate him. Liking him would be too far but at least, you tolerated him. Accepted his presence.

“I am quite fond of bringing you with me. Sam & James are irritating. Helpful but irritating. You are a delight to be around.” he confessed & you had the urge to call him out on his ridiculous behavior.

“Sounds fake but alright…” your annoyance was audible.

“I beg your pardon?” he abandoned his glass, placing it on the small table nearby. Elbows propped onto his knees & his upper body leaned forward, closer to you. But not close enough to make you feel uncomfortable.

“Ever since we met, we’ve been arguing non-stop. This is the first normal conversation between us.” your fingers pointed to him & then to you, signaling what you were talking about.

“Arguments are not an indicator for antipathy.” Zemo explained.

“Oh, they’re not?” the sarcasm was more than obvious. “What then?”

“They are concealing true emotions, burying your urges deep within.” casually spoken, as if he had prepared this exact speech multiple times before.

“My urges?” you questioned, making fun of his statement.

“Indeed.” he wore a winning smile & you hated the effect it had on you.

“Sure.” you chuckled, shaking your head in disbelief. “My only urge is to punch yo-“ both of your heads turned into the direction of Oeznik who unknowingly interrupted your conversation.

“We’re here.” he claimed, nodding briefly, & left you alone again. By the way his face changed, he looked like he was sorry for bothering the two of you. Truthfully, you were glad that he joined you because without him, you would have said something regrettable.

Paris. He dragged you to France. If your situation were any different, you would have felt excited to be here. Before you exited the private jet, Zemo threatened you. If you had the glorious idea to speak up before you arrived at your destination, you would regret it later. Basically, you thought he would kill you. Of course you had no clue that the Baron would never hurt you in any way. After all, you were a victim of his kidnapping. Whether he called it that or not. The small alleyways were decorated with narrow buildings sitting next to each other. The cobblestone street underlined the atmosphere perfectly. Eyes wide, you were overwhelmed by the impression of the beauty of the sweet town. When one of his hands reached for yours, you did not even flinch back. Because, if you were honest, it felt good. Your intertwined fingers brought you warmth. A feeling that spread out through your entire body. Sparks, almost like the beginning of a firework, started forming. The sun shone brightly. Your eyes closed contently. Hence why you did not notice Zemo watching your every move. He reminisced your features closely. The sunlight brought out the beauty of you in a way that was worth remembering. Your body sensed something. It was in your nature when someone stared at you. Carefully, your eyes opened, showing the (Y/E/C) colors that glowed almost mysteriously in the light. Warm brown ones locked onto yours. The two of you exchanged an honest, almost shy smile.

“What?” your head tilted to the side, observing his face. Looking for a sign. Any sign. But Zemo was a clandestine guy. It was almost impossible to look through him. Something inside you took that as a challenge. Maybe you could make his walls come crashing down. Maybe you were the one to change him. Wait. Why were your thoughts running down that road? He was the person to take you away from your friends. The sympathy that started building up was wrong. That much you knew. Resisting felt like a tough task. What did he say during the flight? Something about pushing down your urges. This was the first time you understood the meaning.

If you thought the town was pretty then the apartment you entered was stunning. It was on the top floor. Spacious, furnished in a minimalist way. Overly white, accentuated with colorful artwork. Special pieces to complete the look of it. It screamed expensive. The process of taking everything in took a few minutes. It was overstraining. In the best way possible. You should screw down your excitement. After all, you were part of an incredibly dangerous situation. But you let his touch linger on your skin. Just for a fraction longer. If you really wanted to, you could have retreated. Something told you that Zemo would not have forced you to hold onto him. That thought alone calmed you down a little further. Technically, he was not a stranger. Throughout the missions you had performed together, with Sam & Bucky, you two had become acquainted with. You were associates, apparently. And associates were not supposed to fear one another. Then again, associates would not kidnap each other. Your body was overthrown with mixed signals. Unknown what was wrong & what was right. Your friends would probably describe you as insane, reckless. Maybe you were. Maybe the last few weeks had formed you into a different type of person. That type who sympathized with a criminal. With a criminal who broke out of a high security jail. Since when had criminals become your type? And why were you starting to think in a very friendly, almost amorous way? Looked like you really were insane.

Who would have thought the Baron to be an excellent chef? Definitely not you. But here he was, preparing a meal for you. This was actually pretty sweet of him. His body behind the stove & his eyes focused on the task. It was a sight for sore eyes. Only, of course, if he were not Zemo you were referring to. While he cooked, you set the table. He assured you that you did not have to but it felt like the right thing to do. It was the least you could do. What were you even saying? He kidnapped you, for God’s sake. Your body, your emotions, should be damned.

“Is this something you do often?” Zemo’s question caught you off guard. For a moment, you halted in your tracks. Cutlery was being put down. A deep breath left your mouth.

“What?” your bewildered expression made him chuckle. Funny to watch your perplexity.

“Living in your head more than in the present.” his proclamation cut through the tension.

“I…um, haven’t realized that, actually.” you answered awkwardly. Your hand raised to the back of your head, resting behind your ear.

“You do. When spending time with Sam & James. And now. It is quite entertaining.” he eyed you closely. It made you slightly uncomfortable.

“Why?” your curiosity got the best of you. That was nothing new. Even before he brought you here, your nosiness was on of your more obvious characteristics.

“Because the light in your eyes shifts. You are more at ease. Not to forget your smile…” Zemo trailed off at the end of his sentence, voice a little softer than usual.

“What about my smile?” you really were curious. Would it be in your favor or not? There was only one way to figure that out.

“It differs from when you are actively engaged in a conversation. The corners of your mouth lift in a softer way. No hesitation or restriction.” he finished, his sparkling brown eyes meeting yours. Due to the embarrassment, you could not keep eye contact. So you averted your gaze, facing the almost empty plate in front of you.

“You talk like you’ve known me forever.” your whispers were almost missed. The tone so quiet, even your racing heart was louder.

“I am simply skilled at reading people. You facilitate that process, actually.” every single word he spoke made so much sense that it almost did not make sense anymore. There was no other way to describe it.

“I do? How?” your constant short questions were amusing to him. On one hand, you wanted to distance yourself from him as much as possible. On the other hand, you inquired every single time he finished talking.

“I assume it is because you do not fear opening up to me & letting me in.” people who did not know your history would have believed you two had been friends for years. By the way he discerned the small, almost unnoticeable details about you. Details you did not even know existed in the first place.

“You assume an awful lot, Baron.” you teased, eyes moving to his face gingerly.

“Tell me I’m wrong.” but you could not. Because it would have been a lie. A smirk made its way onto his face when you did not give him a reply. Unintentionally, you mimicked his expression. He had you. Right here, he had you. And he was not the only one aware of the shift in the situation. You were just as deep in it as he was. It was a game with fire. Who would get burned in the end?

~to be continued~

Published (04/28/2021) by Cathy

Tags: @yallgotkik, @noavengers, @lieutenantn, @birdieofloxley, @aisling1985, @trelaney, @hiddlestoner-cumberbitch, @msmarvelsmain, @friday18eo, @crackerjackharkness, @waiting-for-motivation, @obsessedwithfandomsx, @friday18eo, @bibliophilewednesday, @princess-yuna, @trenton007, @pedropascallovebot, @your-lovers-heart, @stressedoutsteph (thanks for your support <3)

[antvnger]

Blood Brothers AU - Airport Fight pt. 1

This time, Scott knows full well about the Accords. 

He’s there at the meeting when the Accords are first introduced to the Avengers, and it sends a bad chill down his spine. 

This is bad news all around. While the intentions behind them are good (he hopes), his gut tells him this will be like a cancer to the group.

He’s right. 

Big brother Tony says this. Childhood hero Cap says that. Scott sees both sides to this issue and doesn’t know what to think. 

Scott doesn’t want his superhero alter ego known for at the very least Cassie’s sake. He wants to keep her safe, and being a Stark is crazy enough sometimes as it is.  Keeping his identity secret has been the best thing for that. The Accords could take that away. That’s Scott’s biggest concern. 

His second is knowing Tony will probably expect him to stand with him in this issue. And he’s not sure he can. 

Scott does agree the Avengers shouldn’t be this untouchable group that can do whatever the hell they want, but he sure as hell doesn’t think the government should be the ones to tell them what they can and can’t do.  No damn way.

Scott wants to talk to Tony about it, but Scott secretly witnesses the slightly heated discussion between Tony and Steve showing how much on opposite sides they’re on, and Scott doesn’t have that conversation like he hoped.

When Bucky is accused of the bombing at the UN conference, Tony tells Scott to stay back and not be involved in the chase for Barnes because he doesn’t want his little brother to get into any legal trouble he can’t get out of and that Tony can’t help him get out of.

He stays behind like Tony strongly requested, but when Steve approaches him about the other brainwashed Winter Soldiers and Zemo, Scott agrees to go because it’s the right thing to do.

Obviously Tony doesn’t know about that until Scott reveals himself after taking Cap’s shield back.

Tony is….floored.  To say the least.  Hurt.  Confused.  Betrayed?  This must be a mistake.  Why would Scott stand against him like that?  

More importantly, does Scott understand what he’s doing taking a stand on Roger’s side in all of this?  What in the world did Rogers say to him to get him to join his side?

Tony sees Scott doing this as getting into trouble he can’t help him get out of, and that really troubles Tony.  And pisses him off.  Hasn’t his kid brother been through enough?

Haven’t they all been through enough?

Now Tony’s hands are tied.  He was willing to try to bring Cap in because at least Tony could try things nicer than anybody else Ross sends instead, but now Cap’s got Scott involved.  Tony would have to arrest his kid brother.  That’s not what he wants.

Scott feels like his hands are tied.  Scott hears Nat ask Cap if he really wants to punch his way through this one.  Scott really doesn’t want to when Tony and Rhodey are on the other side, but those rogue Winter Soldiers have to be stopped too.  If Tony would listen, maybe things would be different.

Scott tries to plead with Tony, but the fight breaks loose, and Scott doesn’t get very far in his plea.

Tony blames Rogers for putting Scott against him, and Scott blames Ross and the government for sticking their noses in places they don’t belong.

Tony and Scott overall try to avoid each other during the fight.  They don’t want to go up against each other like that.

Scott has a mini panic attack when that truck doesn’t turn out to be a water truck.  He never ever would have done that if he had realized.  He would never do that to Rhodey!  Rhodey’s been too good to him growing up, another big brother throughout his life.  He would never…

But the damage is done, and now Rhodey’s pissed, and Scott decides to find someone else to fight instead, shame pooling in his gut.

Hawkeye’s idea for Scott to ride on his arrow and disable Tony’s suit is a really really bad idea.

Scott is shaking his head no when Clint says, “This won’t hurt him; you know that.  It’ll just put him on the sidelines.  Keep him out of harm’s way, and we’ll be one step closer to doing what we’re supposed to be doing.”

Scott very reluctantly agrees to do it, cracking jokes the whole time to try to calm his nerves and convince himself this wouldn’t be as bad as he thinks...

Stay tuned for part 2 tomorrow

[zimniysoldat-fiction]

Uncle Buckaroo

Summary: Director Hill needs the Winter Soldier to take on a rather special assignment.

Warnings: Uh...grumpy Bucky? Language (probably, it’s me we’re talking about)

Word Count: 1,712

A/N: Based on this request. Tangentially related to the request. I was finding it impossible to write the MCU, a 616 AU proved to be so much easier. Even then, I was having a hard time of it. Toddler!Tony is a hard nut to crack. So I didn’t. I hope it’s still enjoyable. Honestly, there are no traces of the MCU in this one. I’m sorry. Enjoy a picture of Bucky chilling with the Sacred Reznor on his spaceship.

Bucky was barely back on Earth a month when Maria Hill showed up at his door with a scrappy, smart-ass toddler. His dark walnut hair and near-ebony eyes looked hauntingly familiar to Bucky, but the assassin could hardly believe the resemblance was anything but coincidence. Still, he had to ask.

“Is that…Stark’s son?” He asked hesitantly, eyebrow kinked with skepticism. “Did Tony finally manage to keep a secret?” Bucky chuckled under his breath, always happy to have fun at Stark’s expense.

“It is Stark, Barnes.” Maria’s voice was flat, dampened with exhaustion and frustration.

Bucky stumbled over his words, hardly forming a syllable as he stepped aside, allowing Maria to bring the child into his apartment. While Maria explained that Tony had somehow reverted to his six year-old self during an exceptionally peculiar experiment-gone-wrong, Tony delighted in playing with the Sacred Reznor, feeding the naked aardvark-like alien little pieces of plum. The kid was so happy, so innocent, so…unlike Tony, that it captivated Bucky.

“This is all…” Bucky was struggling to be polite, “very interesting. But why is he here? Why are you telling me?”

“We need to keep him safe, under the radar.” Maria sighed heavily, “if it gets out that Tony Stark is a helpless kid, all hell will break loose.”

“Sure, but again, why are you telling me?”

“You were off-planet for six months and no one noticed that you were gone.”

“Thanks for reminding me,” Bucky groaned sarcastically.

Maria was far from finished her pitch, stubbornly continuing to plead her case. She was appealing to the fifteen year-old orphan living on a military base, the same one who took up with Captain America, the same orphan who died trying to defuse that bomb on Zemo’s drone. Bucky had spent countless hours wondering what would have happened to that orphan if he had a guardian; someone who would raise the kid, not turn him into an army mascot who would eagerly sign up to become a superhero’s sidekick. Maria was appealing to his ‘what if’ fantasy and it was working. Bucky already adopted a space alien, why not a young Tony Stark? How hard could it be?

Bucky never imagined how exhausting a genius toddler could be. Toppling regimes took less work than Tony. Bucky couldn’t believe it, but he lived for those mornings he got to drop the demon child off at kindergarten, giving him six hours of sweet relief. It’s times like these that Bucky really missed Steve. At least if he were still around, Bucky could drop the kid off on his doorstep. How did he let Hill rope him into this detail? How much longer was he going to have to play single dad in Manhattan?

This was the worst part of taking care of Tony, picking him up after school. Waiting by the gates, he felt like helpless prey being stalked by a pack of lionesses. And a few cougars. He worked hard to maintain a low profile, to ignore their aggressive advances, but the experience was grating. If only he knew how much worse it would get.

“Mum! Mum! Cap’n ‘Merica’s here! He’s really here!” One of the kids came running out of the building, shouting at the top of his lungs as he struggled to keep his backpack on his shoulders.

Bucky’s head snapped up, abandoning his study of cracks in the pavement to investigate the kid’s claims. He really hoped that it was some character actor the school hired, because if it was the real Captain America, Tony’s anonymity would be gone faster than Quicksilver after an ice cream truck. His crystal blue eyes darted across the school yard, he tried to get a decent look inside without drawing attention to himself. He was starting to feel relieved—relaxed and reassured that he couldn’t see any sign of Cap—when a single, friendly syllable sounded like an air raid siren, shattering any hope he held on to. Barnes!

“Hey—” Bucky still faltered with the title— “Cap. Fancy seeing you here.” He tried to smile at the star-spangled man with a falcon perched patiently on his shoulder.

“Me? It comes with the uniform,” Sam scoffed. “It’s more shocking seeing you here. Do you have a love child you’re not telling us about? Is that why you’ve been scarce this last year?”

“Nn—something like that.” Bucky caught himself just in time. “It’s complicated.”

“Uncle Bucky! Uncle Bucky!” Tony enthusiastically cut through the two, attaching himself to Bucky’s leg. It still weirded him out. Sam gave him a poignant look—he saw the resemblance quicker than Bucky had. “No one believes me that daddy knew Cap,” he pouted and Bucky already began to cringe. “They all think this idiot is Cap,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes in a fashion that was oh-so-Tony Stark.

“Hey now, kid,” Sam interjected, “there’s no need for name calling.”

“But you’re not Cap! You’re a fraud! Cap doesn’t have a falcon, he has a shield! Daddy made it for him!” Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose. This was a disaster.

“Wh—whose your daddy, buddy?” Sam’s voice was full of suspicion as he knelt down to meet Tony at his level.

“Howard Stark!” Tony puffed out his chest and turned his nose up. At this age, he was still proud of his dad—Howard was still his hero.

“How—Bucky,” Sam stood up, his face stern, “how about you and Tony come to Avengers Tower with me?” It was a question, Bucky was certain it was a question, but Sam made it sound like an order. In his head, Bucky was already coming up with ways to remind Sam of his place, but Tony had lit up like a Christmas tree in December—he was giddy at the thought of going to the Tower.

“I don’t know if you realize this, Cap, but not all of us can fly.”

As soon as he said it, Bucky had flashbacks to missions where Sam had to carry him as he flew into the mission site. He knew immediately that Sam planned on flying them to the Tower himself. Bucky sighed heavily while Sam grinned. Could this get any worse?

Tony was like a kid in a candy store—his eyes as wide as saucers, his jaw slack, and his mouth slightly agape—as Coulson gave him a tour of the Tower. Bucky and Sam were in the briefing room, joined by the other Avengers in the tower, and Maria Hill and Daisy Johnson—S.H.I.E.L.D.’s top brass with Fury out of the picture. Bucky was happy to let Maria explain everything, allowing Bucky to take the temperature of the room, to read each Avenger’s reaction.

Sam was annoyed, of course. And naturally, Rhodes was irate, insulted, and upset—why wouldn’t he be the obvious choice to take care of Tony? He was his brother in every way that mattered. Carol’s brow was furrowed as she listened, trying to figure out how this happened, and why Hill would cover it up. T’Challa may as well have been a statue, his face stoic, his body language calm and unchanging. At first, Daisy was mostly just bored, already aware of the situation, but as the briefing dragged on, she grew increasingly preoccupied with the CCTV footage from the lab.

“But why Barnes?” Rhodes’ voice was raised, indignant. “He can’t even take care of a plant, never mind a child!”

“Hey!” Bucky interjected, offended, but hardly surprised. “Rog is doing just fine, I’ll have you know. He’s happy and healthy, and Tony loves him.”

The table exchanged confused looks.

“Rog?” Carol inquired.

“I couldn’t keep calling him the Sacred Reznor, so I named him Roger.” Bucky explained matter-of-factly. He forgot that none of them knew about the space aardvark, save for Daisy, who was smirking at the memory of Bucky feeding the thing under his coat in the cantina.

The smirk quickly fell off her face, the footage replaying for the umpteenth time in front of her—it finally clicked, she finally knew why it seemed so familiar, and it sent a shiver down her spine. She wished so fervently that it wouldn’t be him—anyone but him. In a single movement, Daisy grabbed the tablet, spun her chair away from the table, and strode down to where Bucky was sitting. She whispered in his ear while he watched the footage, am ornery scowl weighing down the corners of his lips.

“But Ventolin—” Bucky trailed off, lost in memories of Mer-Z-Bow.

“That Loki is still there, I’ve kept tabs on him.” Daisy murmured, their conversation more private than the rest of the room would like.

“Would you two like to share with the rest of the class?” Sam droned sarcastically, rolling his eyes and leaning back in his chair.

Daisy glared at Sam, but still acquiesced, transferring the images to the large screen on the wall. Everyone watched as Daisy slowed down the footage, going through it frame by frame. What looked like a strange explosion in the video looked more akin to the Dark Bifrost touching down, followed by red, blue, and green smoke enveloping Tony and the silhouette of two others. No one had to be told who it was or what they were witnessing. His tricks and his magic were outright exhausting, his mischief menacing. They all hoped there would be a way of reversing this spell without having to deal with the God of Mischief.

“I guess we need Thor’s help,” Carol’s suggestion came without enthusiasm, or much hope. The Odinson had become unworthy, and the identity of the woman who now wields Mjölnir remains a mystery. To most.

Bucky finally found his smile, his eyes glancing over at Sam. The way everyone else was behaving suggested they had no idea about the crush Sam harboured, or the fondness Lady Thor held for him. Perhaps they were keeping their dalliance private. Maybe Sam was embarrassed. It didn’t really matter to Bucky, he owed Sam after that flight.

“Hey, Sam, aren’t you rather…close to Thor? Maybe you should call her for more than just a booty call.”

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