#hydra mcu

[jupitersredstorm]

Last night I fell asleep around 11-12 and woke up around 1 am, and for like 30 minutes scrolled on tumblr super delirious before going back to bed.

I kept having the same dream over and over agin and I never liked how it ended so I think I had the same dream at least 10 times in total.

I don’t remember what happened it exactly but I remember Ellie and Marlene from the last of us being there, I think it had something to do with the cure. There was this scene where I can’t remember if it was Steve Rogers(mcu) or Tess(tlou) was in a large clear dome in the middle of the desert, like floating in the middle of it surrounded by human hearts, but it wasn’t gorey. I think one time I got so fed up on how the dream ended that the dream was broadcasted? On a tv and next to it was the ao3 tagging system and I clicked the tag HYDRA & Marlene, and then I got woken up by mom at 8:30 this morning.

[mohish-ko]

★ "Especially when I feel lost" ★

[amarriageoftrueminds]

View on Twitter

Since it came up recently, link to that therapist on twitter 👆 who was discussing Bucky's terribile therapist in TFATWS and how they should’ve been. 

Transcript:

"As a therapist myself I've had a lot of feelings about Bucky's therapist on TFatWS, and have decided I need to rant a little to let it all out. I've worked w/active duty, trauma survivors, and court ordered clients, so here's some therapeutic conjecture on Bucky's therapy:

Aesthetically her office and presentation don't fit for someone who has been through the trauma that he’s been through. A client like this would need something non-threatening and safe- the whole vibe is overly formal and official in an office building, not at all therapeutic.

6 months working together she calls him Mr. Barnes and then James-he has identity issues and is struggling with who he is, so I think that one of the 1st things they would have done is figure out what he is comfortable being called, by whom and what that means for him.

He is still full out lying to her about pretty much everything including PTSD sx—I’m not saying clients never lie if they have good therapists, but if after 6 months he still doesn’t feel like he can be truthful at all then they haven’t built any trust/ solid therapeutic rapport

The pen and notebook thing-that’s clearly a trigger for him, there’s no reason to antagonize him and take notes in session like a punishment, it’s a power play on her part and it only emphasizes his lack of control in being forced into therapy (she should know his hx w/notebooks)

The whole little arm motion she made when she said “they need to make sure you don’t…” – that made so much light of what has happened to him, he probably feels like his arm is only good as a weapon and things like that will not help him accept it as part of his body

The rules, UGH the rules—from how they were talking about them clearly not something he actively created for himself, more like directives that he’s been ordered to adhere to—something fed to him and reinforced, feels like a way to sign off on liability only

THE AMENDS—this is probably my biggest issue. Amends are for people who need to take accountability for their actions and the repercussions of those choices. He had NO choice. He was a victim of horrific crimes against him, and framing it in a way that he needs to make up for

the crimes that others used him for is abhorrent. The lack of trauma informed care as astounding in the way it is being framed that he has to atone for sins that weren’t his. Its clearly reinforcing the idea in his head in ep 2 when he says “HYDRA were my people".

NO, HYDRA were your captors. They were not your people. That type of thinking needs to get deconstructed and challenged. He can dedicate himself to bringing good into the world and righting wrongs that happened WITHOUT taking on the responsibility of those actions.

Her whole attitude and demeanor were condescending and demeaning. I know some people have said “I love how she calls him out on his bullshit!” That’s not what I see happening. I call my clients out on their shit all the time—this was not that.

And I can only do that with clients ONCE we’ve built the type of relationship where it’s going to be therapeutic for them to hear it, and it’s done intentionally and with purpose. She just came off shaming and mean because they don’t seem to have any form of therapeutic rapport.

She said “you have no history, no family”- there is no therapeutic reason for that, and she’s wrong. He most likely has family alive (he used current tense when talking about his sister) and he was close to Shuri and TChalla, his history is vital to understanding him

When she said “Look, I know that you have been through a lot, but you’ve got your mind back. You are being pardoned. These are good things. You’re free.”—Yeah this feels really dismissive and like toxic positivity. “I know you’ve been through a lot BUT BE HAPPY!!??”

He certainly doesn’t seem to feel like he’s free (especially having therapy mandated), and you can’t just tell someone they’re free. I felt like she was pretty much just like, “shake it off, look to the future!” which feels really shitty when you’ve experienced excessive trauma.

HELLO breach of confidentiality, just introducing herself to Sam as his therapist and confirming it to Walker and the whole police station, it doesn’t matter if they know he’s in therapy you do not break someone’s privacy like that, he still deserves some control over his tx.

Ordering Sam into a session, NO, he’s not your client and you don’t know him well enough to know if that’s appropriate or if it would be harmful to either, and you haven’t asked your client for his consent to have another person in his session

Forcing a trauma victim who was stripped of his bodily autonomy for 70 years into a physically intimate exercise with a coworker that he’s barely interacted with in the last several months? NOPE, just reinforcing to Bucky she has control over him the way his handlers used to

To me, I think she is more focused on signing off on his psychological eval that he isn't a liability rather than any actual healing or attention to his trauma. This unfortunately isn’t unusual in the military where “mental health treatment” is focused on being mission ready.

They are making sure he’s ready to be an “asset” w/ mandated therapy, which he shouldn’t even be forced to do as part of his pardon because he shouldn’t have needed a pardon at all because he was a victim of horrific war crimes, brainwashing, and dehumanization for 70 years.

I’m just saying, if that was me he would be on my big squishy couch, bright open windows, bowl of Hershey kisses, random fidget toys, and two therapy dogs laying all over him while we work through that trauma and he builds back his identity and finds the calm he wants so badly.

And yes he would probably need someone who would see through his BS, call him out when he needs it, not be overly "touchy feely", but only if he feels safe and there is trust, where he gets to work on what HE wants, not what others think he needs.

Anyway thanks for coming to my TEDTalk, I❤️my work and I think being a therapist on retainer for the Avengers would've been a fucking trip, they all needed a team of mental health professionals at their disposal 24/7 and things would've been so much better🤣

ps. They can be a good therapist and just not be a fit for the client, that happens regularly. We know when to make it part of the conversation and when to refer out. Nothing good is going to come out of a contemptuous therapeutic relationship, mandated or not.

pps. That whole situation and the scene with Zemo was so rough. I can't imagine how much it brought back the violation, humiliation, anger, and helplessness of when he was the WS. I'm just imagining him having a therapist he trusts and being able to process that afterwards 😭😭😭"

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mission Control 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Captain Hydra

Summary: a man marches into your life on a mission

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

That day, the bus is mostly empty. It's only you, an eldery couple, and the driver. The ebb and flow of traffic slows the wheels as the driver passes by vacant stops. You watch the pavement roll by between patches of grass. 

The dulcet ride lures you into a calm even as your pre-work nerves buzz. You hug your bag in your lap as the driver stops and the doors open to let in another passenger. The axel squeals as the vehicular behemoth pulls away from the curb. 

You continue to watch the city as the new rider strides between the seats. You sense their shadow loom closer and closer. You expect them to claim the empty seat across from yours. Instead, the sit right next to you. It's an odd choice given the few passengers aboard. 

You fidget and make yourself smaller. You turn your head straight as you try to see the stranger from the edge of your vision. They're big. Broad enough that their arm presses to yours even as you try to shrink into yourself. Tall too, his knees against the row in front of you. 

He sits rigidly beside you. Uneasy at his proximity, you fish into your side pocket and slide free your phone. You open it aimlessly, tapping habitually on the crossword app you play at work in the low times. 

The solutions elude you as your mind can't detach from the man crowding you into the window. Why can't he sit anywhere else? You look around at the unclaimed seats. He stays as he is, stiff, straight, unmoving. 

You close out of the came and lock your phone. You clasp your hand around the device as you hug your bag once more. Your other hand toys with the little pom pom that hangs from your zipper. 

The bright bus signs pass by. You're stop is coming up. Now is the awkward part. Getting the man to let you out. 

You pull the cord to signal your intent but he's already on his feet. You glance over and thank him softly, a brief glimpse at his face. A scar ripples from his hairline, through his temple and angles down his cheek to his jaw. His eyes are a bold blue and his nose finely cut despite the large blemish.  

He stands back as you grab your bag and sidle out. You go to the doors. He follows. 

Huh? 

He grips the yellow bar behind you, his large hand gripping as if he might crush the metal. You stare at his knuckles and the bus jerks to a stop. You nearly fall off your feet. The man catches you by your hip with his free hand. 

You set your feet and cough out another thanks. Embarrassed, you slap the doors and they open. You scurry off and the men once more trails after you. As you veer towards the mall, he waits until the bus takes off and crosses the street. With him, your suspicious leaves. 

You're frazzled as you enter work. You don't know why. You just... are. Something about that man sticks with you. Even if he never said a word, it felt like he was trying to tell you something. 

You clock in and try to shake it off. His face flashes in your mind. You can't place what seems so familiar about him. You would remember if you met him before. How could you forget? 

You go to the counter as Layton talks with a customer about the new seasonal blends. The tea shop has its peak times, especially as winter approaches, but it's one o clock on a Tuesday and that's never very busy anywhere. 

You greet the next customers. Two girls interested in the cold brew pots. You show them what you have and explain the store's points card. The buy a sampler and nothing else. Typical. 

Layton finishes at four. The traffic picks up once he's gone. You don't mind as it keeps the time moving. It peters out as the dinnertime rush fills the food court. You can hear the crowd from around the corner. 

You set to wiping down the counter and putting away the few stray canisters left out. As you turn back, you have to swallow down a shriek. You didn't hear the man over the mall's top hits playlist. 

You hesitate as your eyes meet. It's him. The man from the bus. You blink and press your lips together. 

"Hello, uh, how are you today?" You ask.  

He just stares. No answer. No sign he even heard you. 

He's in all black. Boots, jeans, cargo jacket. He stands like a soldier. You part your lips again, "are you looking for anything in particular? Today we have our apple crisp chai as the sample." 

He still doesn't react. Not more than his eyes falling to the nervous twiddle of your fingers on the counter. Your scalp prickles and your nape burns. If he keeps this up, you'll have to phone security. 

He raises his hand to reveal a familiar object. It's the fluffy pom pom from your bag. Your brows pop up, "oh? Thanks. It must have fallen off." 

You reach for it and your mind races. As nice as it is to return the key chain, you can't help but wonder. How did he know where to find you?

As you grasp the soft ball, his other hand comes up and snares your wrist. Your squeak and try to pull back. You're stuck in his grip.  

Your eyes round and flick up to meet his. His gaze bores into you and at last, his stony expression cracks. He smirks, the scar on the side of his face paling as the lines around his eyes deepen. He releases the keychain and grabs a fistful of your hair. 

"Ow!" You squeal and yank again.  

He rips your hair out at the roots and you exclaim again. Hets go of your arm and you hit the shelves behind you. He nods and spins on his heel, clutching the handful of your hair.  

You whimper and rub your head as your scalp burns. Your eyes water and your lip trembles. You just gape at the door. What just happened? 

[marvel-lous-guy]

Tony: what the hell were you thinking!?

Peter: Obviously I was thinking I would get away with it and wouldn't have to explain myself!

[gracepureautumn]

“What you did all those years, it wasn't you. You didn't have a choice.”

“I know... but I did it.”

More will be added to this illustration, keep an eye out for it 🎨

[darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor]

Mission Control Masterlist

Summary: a man marches into your life on a mission

Status: In Progress

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[annafacose]

I love drawing Rumlow and his scarred face.

(Full pic on patreon)

[velvet4510]

Probably in the minority here, but I’m positive there’s no way Steve could’ve known with absolute, concrete certainty that Bucky was the one who killed Tony’s parents, prior to Zemo’s reveal.

All he saw was a photo of the headline of Howard’s death included in Zola’s footage. So he knew HYDRA was responsible for the deaths, but I think he was being honest when he told Tony “I didn’t know it was him.” Then he caved and just said “yes” because Tony emphasized “did you know” as in “did you know it wasn’t just an ordinary car accident?”

Steve probably pieced together the likelihood that it was Bucky who did it, but wanted to believe it wasn’t true, that HYDRA had sent someone else to do it. Which explains why he didn’t tell Tony. He had no proof it was true. And he didn’t want it to be true anyway. Why should he say “I think my best friend might’ve killed your parents but it’s just a hunch?” Why would ANYONE want to say that to their friend?

Steve Rogers deserves no hate.

[stuckyfingers]

Poll Result #2: Bleeding Bucky

"The Asset no longer responds to the baton."

[our-destiny]

Yandere Winter Soldier x GN!Hydra!Reader <3

Trigger Warnings: Hydra employee SA's reader, murder, dehumanization, creepy staring from Winter Soldier, Winter Soldier being protective, Hydra generally being shitty, I continue to be terrible at endings - If I missed anything please tell me

I am not responsible for the media you consume, read the warnings, minors dni

Want to read more of my work? Check out my Masterlist

Word count: 1027

. ☪︎* ☁︎. . * ✰ .· ☁︎ . *  ✯. ☪︎* ☁︎. . * ✰ .· ☁︎ .

The Winter Soldier took a liking to you. He would ignore his handlers, staring at you whenever you're in his line of sight, never taking his eyes off you even while answering his handler's questions. It was unnerving, to say the least. No one knew why he liked you so much, but he didn't really do anything else apart from stare at you so they didn't bother worrying over it, just tried to keep you away from him as much as possible so the soldat wouldn't get distracted. That, however, was a mistake.

He started missing you. Missing your presence, your voice. Soon enough he started asking where you were, refusing to follow orders until he saw you. He had this weird fixation with you and Hydra couldn't do anything about it, he was their best Asset, and you were just a Hydra worker; replaceable. They humoured his desires, making sure to have you in the room with him at all times, which seemed to placate him, being able to watch you made him more... submissive, it seems. Calmer. He went back to following orders, not causing a fuss or refusing to speak. But eventually the Asset wanted more.

He stopped responding to his handlers again, just sitting there, staring at you, not moving or speaking. Up until this point you had never spoken to one another, the soldat just watching you while you squirmed under his harsh gaze, Hydra wondered what would happen if you.. called out to him. Said his name. Gave him orders.

One day the soldier was doing his usual stunt, not responding to his handler in favour of watching you breathe. A few of the officers started whispering among themselves, glancing over at your direction. A minute later the soldat's handler turned to you and spoke.

"You. Talk to it." You stood there dumbfounded. What did he mean 'talk to it'? "Come here. Stand in front of it and talk to the Asset." Hesitantly you stepped forward, his handler moving out of your way so you can stand directly in front of him. The soldat looked up at you from where he was sat, his eyes holding some sort of reverence for you, lips parted in awe. What should you say? You can't ask him how his day was or talk about the weather so what should you say? You settled on his name. Well what Hydra called him at least.

"Soldat." His eyes softened slightly, responding immediately to your word. "Ready to comply."

You glanced back at his handler, not sure if you should continue. After getting a slight nod from the officer you asked him, "Mission report?" Your voice was shaky, not used to giving orders and still not used to the way the soldat stares at you, but he responded anyway. For the first time in who knows how long the Asset complied without any fuss, detailing his mission to you. A feat no other Hydra employee could achieve recently.

Hydra quickly realized that this was the only way to keep their most prized soldier submissive. He'd only take orders if they were from you, always seeming eager to please you, saying "ready to comply" with a bit too much enthusiasm. When he came back from missions he'd relay the details to you, seeming to search your face for some sort of approval, like he wanted to know he did you proud, did what he was told to do like the soldier he is. The Asset worked harder, strived to please you, carried out your requests with fervour. You quickly got promoted to his handler. Not much changed, all you had to do was give him orders, orders which you were told to by higher officers. It kept him happy for a while, you having control over him, talking to you daily. But once again, he wanted more.

Other Hydra employees usually tried not to bother you, you were obviously precious to the soldier and crucial to getting the soldat to comply, but recently there was a new employee, a man that had not realized your importance. You could never really get comfortable working for Hydra, still talking with a quiet voice and trying to avoid any attention and he thought he could take advantage of that, cornering you one day in the hallway, pushing you against the wall trying to feel you up. Unfortunately for him the soldat was just returning from a mission and everyone knows the soldat immediately goes to see you after his missions. The Asset was not happy to see someone else feeling up his handler, and he was even more upset that he was making you uncomfortable, forcing you to do something you didn't want to. The Asset handled it a lot more maliciously than he usually would on missions, first focusing on getting the employee off of you, then only focusing on hurting him, nothing else but the crunch of his bones breaking beneath the soldier's metal fist, making him regret even touching you. Only when he was unrecognisable did he stop, turning to you to grab you, holding you in his lap, arms slightly shaking, growling at anyone who got too close.

After that... encounter he became more physical in a way. He didn't like it when someone got too close to you, wrapping his arms around you protectively. He got closer in general, getting closer to your face while staring at you, eyes lingering on your lips, so close you could feel his breath on your face. Sometimes he got confident, brushing his lips over your temple or cheek, as if testing the waters. Gradually, he applied more and more pressure to those half-kisses, until he was kissing you fully and often, whenever you gave him an order or he came back from a mission he'd kiss you, sometimes on the cheek, on the forehead if he was feeling particularly protective, but mostly on the lips.

It was some sort of fucked up obsession the soldat had for you, the want for you to own him and for him to own you, you're his and he's yours, no one else matters.

. ☪︎* ☁︎. . * ✰ .· ☁︎ . *  ✯. ☪︎* ☁︎. . * ✰ .· ☁︎ .

Reblogs make tumblr go around and are very much aappreciated <33

[mohish-ko]

★ no, not again ★

[writerslittlelibrary]

how aboutttt

recently rescued ex-hydra!teen!reader has a pretty bad nightmare and goes to natasha for comfort ⁉️

Can I stay with you tonight? 

masterlist requests masterlist

summary: after you were rescued from Hydra by the Avengers, you had been living with them. however, a change of scenery doesn't mean you forget everything that's ever happened to you…

pairing: Natasha x teen reader

warnings: mentions of abuse?

genre: fluff, (angst?)

words: 1116

a/n: this one is kinda short, so I apologize, but I loved this request, and I hope I did alright!

You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work

 |——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

Your breath was heavy as you ran as fast as your little legs would take you. You could hear the soldiers screaming, trying to find you as you heard the barlings dogs drawing closer. You ran through the snow, pushing the branches out of your way as you tried to get as far away from the Hydra base as possible.

The sound of the soldiers seemed to fade, and you had hope you finally lost them.

That hope was quickly forgotten as you fell face first into the snow, a dog biting your arm as it kept you down. The dog had jumped you from the side, pushing you to the ground and easily standing on top of you, biting and scratching as you felt the blood starting to pour-

-------------------------------------------------------------

You woke up gasping, sweat on your forehead as you reached for your arm, running your fingers over the permanent scar adorning it, the only proof remaining of what had happened that night.

When you reached your hands up, you felt your cheeks were wet. You must've cried at some point during the night. You were heaving, trying to keep in the sobs as you realized what you had dreamt about. You were so close to escaping that night.

It didn't take long until the tears were streaming again, sobs wrecking through your whole body as you folded your arms over your stomach, almost hugging yourself.

That night was one of many you wished you could forget.

Natasha had asked you about it. Ever since coming to the Avengers tower, she'd ask you every now and then how you were doing, and if you were experiencing any nightmares. She'd tell you it was normal, and that her and Bucky often got nightmares after they were first rescued. You'd shrug her off and deny it, not wanting to talk to anyone about the horrors you had been through, and the horrors you were forced to put others through.

Natasha was persistent, however, and even after many times of denying it, she never believed you. 

That's how she knew you were in distress once again tonight. She had Friday alert her every time you were distressed. She was worried about you, of course, but she knew what a person could do after being freed from such a horrible life. She knew better than any other, having been through it herself, and she was afraid you might try to hurt yourself.

Usually, she didn't want to bother you, knowing you liked to keep to yourself, and she was afraid that if she'd push your personal space, you'd just push her further away.

However, tonight Friday alerted her you were much more distressed than usual, and it scared Natasha. What if you'd have to cry alone in your room, covering your sobs and trying to keep quiet because you were afraid someone would notice, and would get mad. What if you'd try to be fine and strong, and only fall apart when you were alone, just like she did…

And so, Natasha set a course for your room, bringing a stuffed animal with her she had bought for you. She knew you were a teenager, of course, but she also knew you had never owned anything a normal child would own, and she wanted to help you heal from that trauma.

When she reached your room, she hesitated for a moment, not knowing if walking in, or knocking, would be the best approach. What if you'd feel caught? What if you'd think Natasha was there to hurt you for showing weakness?

Natasha settled just walking in was the best approach. That way you wouldn't have time to try and hide your sadness.

And so, Natasha opened the door, her heart breaking when she saw the little human ball on the bed. You were hunched over, your knees to your chest and your arms hugging them. Natasha didn't miss the way your breath hitched when you heard the door open and close.

Natasha walked to your bed carefully but quickly. She wanted to comfort you without giving you much time to think about it.

She sat down on the bed, keeping her distance from you, not wanting to scare you but wanting to let you know she was there. You didn't dare look at her, and Natasha was unsure of what to do next.

"Do you want to talk about it?” she asked softly, and you shook your head. “No one is going to be mad at you for being upset, okay?” she continued, and you didn't give her a response. " I brought you something…” Natasha then said, placing the stuffed animal she brought on the bed next to you.

You looked at it carefully, staring at Natasha with big, watery eyes as she gave you an encouraging nod, urging you to take it.

Your movement was quick as you reached for it, clutching the stuffed animal to your chest, hugging it tightly. It was then Natasha noticed the reddened scars on your arm, indicating you must've scratched at the already existing scars.

Natasha shuffled a little closer, careful not to invade your space too much.

"Can I see that?” she then asked, motioning her hand towards your scar. You shook Your head and pulled your arm away, turning slightly so your back was now facing Natasha.

"I just wanna help you, I promise,”  Natasha pushed, and she shuffled closer again, now almost sitting next to you. You were still sniffling softly, and Natasha knew you were still terrified from whatever Nightmare you had.

Carefully, Natasha placed her arm around you and lightly pulled you into her chest. It didn't take long before you broke down, letting yourself fall onto Natasha as she rubbed your back, comforting you the best she could.

"It's gonna be okay…” Natasha tried reassuring you, but your sobs just grew.  

"The dogs…” you sobbed. "The dogs got me. They bit me and pulled me down when I tried to run away when I was seven…” you cried out, and Natasha shushed you as she hugged you closer.

"It's okay, you are safe now. I'm not gonna let anyone hurt you ever again, I promise,” Natasha reassured, and you hugged her closer.

"Please don't leave me alone,” you cried out, and Natasha pulled you closer. " I'm never leaving you alone, y/n,” she promised, as she made a move to lie down on the bed, pulling you to lay on her chest. 

"Try to get some sleep. I'm here, I'll protect you,” Natasha said as she stroked your back, feeling your breathing slowly even out, the stuffed animal still tight to your chest.

" I'll always protect you…”

Permanent tags: @marvelnatasha12346 @lesbionion @daddyshuri

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mission Control 9

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Captain Hydra

Summary: a man marches into your life on a mission

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Fear courses through you; bolsters you. You tighten you grip and feel how he tenses with it. You squeeze him firmly and pump him. The hot friction draws a groan from him. You pause, unsure if it’s a noise of delight or something else. 

He reaches for you. You flinch. He pokes your thigh, once, twice, and three times before you take the hint. You open your legs and he swipes his fingers up and down your cunt. He swirls around your slickness, soaking himself in it, then recoils.  

He pushes your hand away and spreads your juices around his turgid length. As he did before, he brings you grip to him. He puts his hand around yours and guides you in a smooth motion. 

He shudders and lets out a shaky drone. He does it again and pushes his chest out. He squeezes your hand before he lets you go. You keep your hand moving. That’s what keeps him from hurting you. If you do as he wants. You only dread when you don’t know what he wants. So long as he stays quiet, you’ll have to keep guessing. 

He stretches his arm across you and grabs your shoulder. He turns you to face him. You let him guide you. You put your head on his shoulder and keep working him. He groans as his fingers curl tightly into your flesh. He grits his teeth and closes his eyes. 

He tickles down your arm and traces down to your side. He follows the curve of your waist and hip and draws his touch back up. His fingertips continue to wander, almost curiously as he hums and huffs. 

He brings his hand up behind your head and clutches your hair. The roots strain in his grasp and you hiss through your teeth. You brace yourself for him to wrench the follicles out. 

He doesn’t. He clasps on tightly but does not yank, only keeping you close, keeping you under control. His breath hitches, chest rising and falling, voice scraping up his throat. He seizes, muscles tensing, toes curling, knees slightly bent. 

He cums, gushing over your fingers and knuckles, dripping under your palm and smearing up and down his length. He shakes and snarls, locking onto your wrist as he forces you still. You lay there and wait. He drags your hand from around him and puts it on his chest. He flattens it there as the scent of your excess lingers in the air. 

He’s placid. For now. 

Slowly, his breath evens out. You feel him go rigid and lets go of your hand. He sits up without a car and you fall away. You roll onto your back and watch him. He is mechanical as he rises and stalks to the door. It opens and shuts in his stead. 

You’re alone but not less afraid. You don’t dare move from where he left you. Something tells you that’s wrong. If you can avoid provoking him, you can languish in inaction. 

Time unfurls around you in a pulsing static. When he returns, the door snaps so loud you wince. You listen to him but do not look. Not until he approaches you. He hands you a wet cloth, folded. You take it as you sit up. 

“Thank you,” you say. 

You don’t expect a response or get one. You gingerly wipe your cunt with the cloth. You’re tender and thrumming. 

He wears a pair of black pants. He backs away and goes to the table. He takes something. He must have brought that with him. He takes the matte silver packet and returns to you. He raises it to show you. He rubs it between his hands. You listen to the friction. 

He tosses it at you. The packet is hot, almost intolerably so. You lift it from your lap by the corner. There’s no writing on it, just a sticker with an abstract outline of elbow past. 

You look up at him as he stares, then back at the packet. You grab the tap at the top and glance up again. His pupils pinpoint. You slowly tear the top and look inside. The artificial yellow of the macaroni inside wafts up the scent of cheese. It steams from within. How can that be? 

You peek at him again. He nods. You squeeze the packet and daintily take the noodle that sticks out between your teeth. There’s a faint flavour of cheese but overall, it’s bland. You chew without care. You’re starving. 

You can’t help yourself from tipping the packet and devouring it in only a few bites. Even as the heat makes your eyes water. When you finish, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. 

He comes forward and hands you a bottle of water. You take it with another thank you and empty it just as quickly. He looms over you. 

Your eyes flick up and meet his. Once more, he is blank. You nearly deflate. There’s nothing in the pit of his bold irises. 

He backs away and circles the bed. He goes to the armoire and pulls out a black shirt. He dresses, strapping on a leather harness and body armor, knife straps, gloves, boots. He clothes himself for battle, capping it off with a black cowl that covers his face entirely. 

His shoulders square as he stares into the armoire. He reaches inside and pulls something else out. It’s large and round, though the lower edge is slightly misshapen. He turns to face you with the shield and your mouth falls open. 

The silver is scratched and dented, worn from use, but you see what once was; chips of red and blue and the etched outline of a star at the center. Your eyes crawl up from the shield to his masked face. You recreate what’s beneath from the morsels in your mind. 

It simply can’t be him. You know it’s not. It might be his body but it’s not his mind. That is not Captain America. That is something else. 

[marvel-lous-guy]

*Avengers Watching a true crime documentary*

Peter: Why do we give serial killers cool names?

Tony: What do you mean?

Peter: We give them cool names like "the Zodiac killer". Imagine everyone knowing you as "the zodiac killer"! That'd be awesome!

Steve: What?

Peter: Like, why don't we call them stupid names or like "killer 16" or "serial killer 23". Thats boring, they'd hate that

Bucky: but thats boring for us

[tales-of-the-ghost-zone]

DP x MCU crossover

Sometime after Howard and Maria Stark’s death, Hydra decides to try and make a clone of Tony Stark, that’s infused with Super Soldier serum. They were hoping to get a super smart super soldier that they could control.

And thus Danny was born.

At some point when he’s like 2 or 3 one of the Hydra agents whose been his handler since he was born grows a conscious after witnessing the most recent experiment the other scientists in the lab put Danny through. They take Danny and run away from the lab. They don’t get away clean tho, they had to fight their way out of the lab and they were injured in the process. They wind up in Amity Park with baby Danny and come across the Fenton Parents. They hand Danny over to them and tell them to protect and look after the kid. And then they die.

The Fenton parents adopt Danny and raise him as their own. Danny grows up not knowing he’s adopted or that he’s a clone and a super soldier. The ghost portal accident happens when he’s 14 like cannon. The reason he survived and only half died is because of the super soldier serum in his blood.

Eventually, after the whole events of the Danny Phantom series has passed (minus Phantom Planet because fuck that horrible ending to the series). Danny, after defeating Pariah Dark, is now the king of the ghost zone. He still doesn’t realize he’s a clone of Tony Stark. Despite the fact that he looks exactly like a 17 year old version of the man!!!

And then New York happens. A portal opens up in the skies above New York, and aliens come pouring out of it! You bet your ass Danny hightailed it over to New York to help out the group of heroes that were trying to stop the aliens. He’s super hyped to fight aliens!!! He’s just having a blast zooming through the skies of New York, around skyscrapers, throwing punches and ecto-blasts at aliens, helping out the other heroes.

Meanwhile every time he helps one of the Avengers they all double take when they finally get a look at his face. Cause like yes this floating glowing child has glowing green eyes and Snow White hair, but the rest of his face looks like a very young Tony Stark. After each encounter with the boy the different Avengers call Tony over the coms to ask his status and to reassure themselves that Tony hadn’t been de-aged and given super powers mid battle.

Tony is the last one of them that meets Danny. He’s super annoyed at the fact everyone keeps calling him over the coms to ask his status. Like yeah he’s not a super soldier and doesn’t have powers, but neither does Romanoff or Barton!!! And unlike them he has his own super suit to protect him. So why is everyone calling in to check on him?!!!

And then finally Danny comes zooming around a building chasing after Loki’s chariot, shouting sarcastic quips at the god, while firing green blasts from his fists. And Tony just kind of blue screens for a minute. Jarvis has to take over piloting the suit for a minute while Tony reboots. He’s def got the surprised Pikachu face going on. Finally he reboots but Danny’s already flown off to deal with something else.

The battle comes to an end, the portal closes, the world is safe, and all the Avengers all head towards Stark tower. Danny sees them and where they’re headed and decides to meet them there. He���s been the only super hero around for a while and he wants to actually properly interact with these new hero’s!

Imagine his shock when he actually finally comes face to face with Tony Stark and finally realizes how much he looks like the man. He starts panicking thinking his mom had an affair with the man 17 years ago and just passed him off as Jack Fenton’s son.

Absolute chaos ensues as assumptions are made. DNA tests happen. They realize that no he is not Tony’s kid, he’s Tony’s clone. More assumptions are made. No body is having a good time.