#nick fury

[under0-0s]

Location: Stark Tower, Manhattan Time: 06:43 AM

(Listen to the music to enhance the reading experience.)

The sky above Manhattan is a crisp, unforgiving shade of blue, with the sun gleaming off the glass façade of Stark Tower. Outside, streets are lined with protestors—activists, veterans, former Stark Industries employees, and the occasional overzealous blogger holding signs that read “Weapons Kill, Stark!” and “No More War Profiteering!”. They chant, they yell, but nothing stops the relentless media storm from gathering inside the press hall.

Inside, journalists pack the grand atrium, cameras flashing, live streams running, and news anchors whispering urgent commentary into their microphones. The air buzzes with anticipation, tension so thick it could be cut with one of Stark’s own repulsor beams.

Then, the doors at the back of the stage open, and he walks in.

No Iron Man suit. No Avengers. No handlers. Just a crisp black suit, black-tinted sunglasses, and an air of absolute, untouchable confidence. The world’s most famous (and formerly redeemed) billionaire crosses the stage with a deliberate, steady stride.

He doesn’t acknowledge the cameras, the murmurs, the accusations waiting to be hurled his way. He steps up to the podium, places both hands on it, and leans slightly forward. He removes his sunglasses with an almost bored motion, tucks them into his jacket pocket, and lets the silence stretch—lets them wait for it.

Then, in a voice as smooth as ever, he speaks.

"Ladies and gentlemen, press vultures, corporate spies, government agents pretending to be interns—welcome."

"Let’s skip the pleasantries, shall we? We all know why we’re here. You, sitting there in the press row, half of you already drafting your hit pieces. You, government reps, gripping your pens so tight you’re about to snap ‘em in half. And you, my dear stockholders, wondering if you’re about to get a whole lot richer or if I’m about to tank your portfolios overnight."

"Relax. Breathe. I’m going to tell you exactly what’s happening, and you’re going to listen."

He pauses, scanning the room like he owns it—which, technically, he does.

"Stark Industries is reactivating its Weapons Division."

Chaos. Murmurs explode. Some reporters gasp. A flurry of fingers race over keyboards, headlines forming in real-time. But Tony? He just waits. Lets the uproar fester. Then he speaks again—sharper, firmer.

"Oh no, not the weapons, right? The same weapons that, for decades, kept entire nations from crumbling into dust? The same weapons that made Stark Industries the name it is today?"

"See, here’s the thing—I left the game. I walked away. I thought, naively, that taking my toys and going home would make the world a better place. That if I stopped making weapons, war would stop needing them. Turns out, that’s not how reality works."

"The world didn’t become safer. It became stupider."

A few nervous chuckles from the audience. Tony smirks. He owns the room now.

"Terrorists, rogue states, people who don’t give a damn about peace? They kept building. They kept stockpiling. They evolved. But the people who actually should have had the best tech? They got stuck playing defense with outdated scraps because of ethics committees and policy briefings."

"Meanwhile, aliens rain from the sky, psychos in masks keep popping up, and let’s not even start on the enhanced individuals running around with power levels straight out of a bad anime."

"And through all of that, what did I do? I built my suit. I fought my battles. I was the deterrent. But one suit—one man—isn’t enough. Not anymore."

He steps out from behind the podium now, walking across the stage, gesturing as he talks.

"Let’s get real. I am done pretending that morality alone can keep the world intact. You want a peaceful world? Then you need deterrence. Real deterrence. Superior firepower."

"So, here’s what happens next."

He turns sharply back toward the crowd, voice cutting through the stunned silence.

"The Stark Advanced Defense Initiative is launching immediately. We’re developing next-generation weaponry, AI-guided security systems, and proactive defense measures that ensure when—not if, but when—the next threat rises, the people who should have power actually do."

"This isn’t about war. It’s about control. About making sure the right hands hold the biggest sticks. And no one—no one—is better equipped to build those sticks than I am."

He lets that sink in, eyes locked on the silent crowd.

"I know what you’re thinking. ‘Tony, aren’t you a hero? Didn’t you quit all this? Didn’t you grow a conscience?’"

He lets out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head.

"Here’s what I learned about consciences: they don’t stop bullets. They don’t stop invasions. They don’t stop the people who will always choose violence over reason. Technology does. And for too long, I’ve been limiting what I build because I wanted to believe we’d find another way."

"Well, I don’t believe that anymore."

A heavy pause. He adjusts his suit jacket, smooths out an invisible wrinkle.

"Now, I expect backlash. I expect protests. I expect every morally righteous think tank to line up outside my door with their ethical handbooks, demanding explanations. But let me make one thing perfectly clear—"

"I don’t ask for permission to change the world. I do it."

"You know, it’s funny. For years, I’ve been called a visionary. A genius. A pioneer. I revolutionized clean energy, neural interfaces, quantum computing. I built the next century."

"And yet, the moment I announce that I’m reopening Stark Industries’ weapons division? I suddenly become the villain again."

"Seventeen years ago, I stood in front of the world and shut down Stark Weapons. I did it because I saw my technology in the wrong hands. Because I thought if I stepped away, the world would follow my lead."

"Guess what? It didn’t."

"Since then, we’ve seen more wars, more destruction, more threats—only now, instead of Stark weapons, we’ve got unchecked arms dealers, rogue states, and tech that’s embarrassingly behind the curve trying to hold them back."

"You want to hear something terrifying? The people in charge—the ones meant to be protecting you—are playing catch-up with the bad guys. And losing."

"You think peace talks are going to stop biological warfare? You think treaties are going to hold off cybernetic threats when the next dictator with a Wi-Fi signal decides he wants to rewrite history?"

"So, let me make this simple: I’m not asking permission. I’m not waiting for another ‘global summit’ to debate what should have been solved yesterday."

"Stark Industries is officially launching the Stark Advanced Defense Initiative. Next-generation military-grade tech. Weapons that don’t just respond to threats but eliminate them before they escalate. AI-driven strategic defenses. Long-range deterrents capable of neutralizing entire conflicts before they happen."

"This is not war-mongering. This is not reckless. This is evolution. And I don’t do second place."

"You want to debate ethics? You want to call me reckless? Fine. But let’s get one thing straight—I don’t ask for permission to change the world. I do it."

"Questions?"

The reporters explode with voices, shouting over each other, desperate for clarification, outrage, anything—Tony just smirks, raises a hand… and shakes his head.

"Yeah, no. I don’t do Q&As."

"That’ll be all."

With that, he steps back from the podium and walks off the stage, leaving the world to grapple with what he’s just set into motion. The cameras flash. The chaos unfolds. And for the first time in years, Tony Stark is exactly who he used to be—and he doesn’t care who hates him for it.

[ To whomsoever it may concern: @the1-and-only-peggycarter @oh-to-be-a-murderer @multiverse-peterbparker @clintbarton-thearrowguy @over-bi-the-wayside @the-good-redheaded-witch @its-nate-the-sharpshot @pepper-potts-in-charge @serenastark-official @crazyinlovewithmarvel @multifandomer537 @your-fav-russian-assassin @proud-owner-0f-americas-ass @lunamarvels @itsme-donnastrange @playgirlgenius @theoneandonlyjamiestark @emma-hope-stark-official @h-keener-official @project-traveler @the-iron-rose @we-love-redwing @the-best-black-widow ]

[nexiva]

You made me hate you

Part 7

Bucky x reader

Warnings: all the same: angst, swearing, fighting and arguing, a lot of it in this part!

Summary: First mission together, yay🥲 And one bed?!? Who would have thought 🙋🏼‍♀️

A/N: so this part is a bit longer than usual but I wanted to make them finally be alone for a bit 😊😊 (not sure if that’s a good thing for them - yet😈) enjoy!

Masterlist

The walk to the conference room was slower than usual, each step weighed down by the dread pooling in my stomach. Sam, of course, was still smirking like he knew something I didn’t.

“Cheer up,” he said as we rounded the corner. “Maybe Fury just wants to give you both medals for not murdering each other this week.”

“Or maybe he wants me to murder you instead,” I shot back, forcing a grin I didn’t feel. My heart raced in my chest, an unease that had been building ever since I left Barnes' room that night. Something was coming. I could feel it.

The door to the conference room slid open with a quiet hiss, revealing the familiar sight of Steve, Natasha, Tony and Barnes already seated at the table. My eyes flicked toward Barnes automatically. His jaw was set, his eyes fixed on the table in front of him. Tension clung to him like a second skin.

I dropped into the chair as far from him as possible, not missing the way his shoulders tensed when he realized I was there. Steve glanced between us with an expression that hovered somewhere between concern and resignation.

Before the silence could stretch further, Fury entered the room, his long coat billowing slightly as he walked. The air shifted immediately—the man carried gravity with him.

“Good. You’re all here,” he said, coming to a stop at the head of the table. His single eye swept over each of us, lingering just a fraction too long on me and Barnes.

Shit.

“We’ve got a situation,” Fury began, tapping the tablet he placed on the table. The screen lit up with grainy surveillance footage of a warehouse. Shadows flickered in the corners.

“This location was flagged two nights ago,” Fury continued. “Intel suggests remnants of NEXUS are regrouping. This isn’t just some wannabe faction. They’ve got resources, tech, and a list of targets longer than my patience.”

“Are we going in as a team?” Tony asked, sitting forward.

Fury shook his head. “No. This mission requires discretion. We’re sending in a pair of operatives who can handle themselves in hostile territory without making a scene.”

“Why the hell did you call us in for then?” Tony asked… politely.

“For emotional support, Stark, I’m glad you asked.”

My stomach dropped.

Please, God, no.

“Barnes and Y/L/N,” Fury announced, his voice firm, final.

The room froze. For a heartbeat, no one spoke. Then, simultaneously:

“No.” My voice cut through the silence just as Barnes pushed back his chair with a sharp screech.

“Absolutely not,” he growled, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were icy when they met mine, mirroring the outrage burning in my chest.

“I don’t have time for this.” Fury said, raising a hand to silence us both. “This mission isn’t about your personal issues. It’s about stopping NEXUS, before they get their claws into something bigger.”

“Send someone else,” Barnes snapped, his metal fingers digging into the edge of the table. “Anyone else.”

“No,” Fury said coolly. “You two are the best for this. Y/N, you know how they work. You have been studying them since you were a little kid. And you - he pointed his finger at Barnes - know how to operate in the shadows.”

“What if one of us kills the other before we get there?” I asked dryly, trying to mask the dread twisting in my gut.

“Then I'll have one less headache to deal with,” Fury said with the faintest hint of a smirk. "The plane leaves tomorrow at 0500. Pack light, move fast. And get your shit together." His eye landed on me, then Barnes, before he turned and walked out without another word.

He paused at the door, turning back with a slight smirk. "Oh, and one more thing. You'll be staying at a hotel near the mission site. Undercover as a rich couple looking to make a deal with NEXUS’S contacts. So, practice your loving gaze." He left before we could protest.

The room remained silent for a moment. I could feel the tension pressing against my skin like static electricity.

“This is ridiculous,” I muttered, shoving my chair back. I stood abruptly, my chest tight with frustration.

“No one’s thrilled about it,” Steve said gently.

I ignored him, turning toward the door.

Barnes beat me to it. He stalked past without looking back, his steps heavy, shoulders rigid. The door hissed shut behind him.

I exhaled shakily. My body buzzed with conflicting emotions—anger, dread, and something else I couldn’t name.

“Y/N,” Natasha said softly. I didn’t meet her eyes.

“I need air,” I muttered, and left.

“Well, so much for the emotional support I suppose.” Tony said to the rest with a wide smile on his face. “I hope Nick knows what he’s doing, otherwise it’s going to end really badly.”

_________________________________________________

I found myself at the nearest balcony I could find.

The air was crisp. The city stretched below, endless and oblivious to the turmoil in my chest. I gripped the railing until my knuckles ached.

Working with Barnes wasn’t just inconvenient. It was dangerous—not physically, but emotionally. That night in his room had cracked something open, and I wasn’t sure I could seal it shut again. And NEXUS? I had to experience them… all over again. What was Nick thinking?!

The door behind me cracked open and I tensed instinctively.

“Fuck, what the hell are you doing out here?” Barnes’ voice was sharp and accusing.

“Getting away from you,” I snapped without turning.

“Yeah? Well, get used to disappointment,” he shot back. "Because we're stuck with each other."

“Don’t remind me,” I muttered.

“So I’m not the only one who needed a fresh air.” He exhaled a bitter laugh. "This mission’s going to be a disaster."

"We agree on something for once," I said through clenched teeth.

Neither of us moved, both too stubborn to be the first to leave. The hatred crackled like a live wire between us.

Just a mission. Just a cover. Just an absolute nightmare waiting to happen.

———————————————————————————

The ride to the airstrip the next morning was painfully silent. Sam tried to crack a joke as we boarded, but one glare from Barnes shut him up. The unease in my chest hadn’t loosened; if anything, it had grown heavier with each passing hour.

Once we got on the Quinjet the hum of the engines was the only sound as we sat on opposite sides of the cabin. I kept my gaze fixed out the window, arms crossed tight over my chest.

Barnes sat with his elbows on his knees, metal fingers flexing and clenching like he was imagining wringing someone’s neck. Probably mine.

"You always this chatty?" I muttered finally, trying to provoke him somehow. Maybe this mission would be over if I finally had an excuse to kill him? A girl can dream.

"Why waste my breath?" he shot back without looking up. "We both know how this is going to go."

"Yeah? And how’s that?"

"You’ll try to boss me around. I’ll ignore you. You’ll get pissed. We survive by some miracle, and then we go back to pretending the other doesn’t exist."

"Sounds like you've really thought this through."

"I like to plan for disasters," he said flatly.

I opened my mouth to retort, then snapped it shut. Not worth it. The next few weeks would be hell either way; no point burning what little patience I had left before we even landed.

The rest of the flight passed in strained silence.

When the quinjet touched down just outside the city, we disembarked without a word. A black sedan waited for us, sleek and nondescript. Barnes tossed his duffel in the trunk with more force than necessary. I slid into the passenger seat without looking at him.

The drive to the hotel was no better. I could feel the tension radiating off him, the thick, heavy presence of his frustration tangling with mine. We didn’t speak until we reached the hotel entrance.

The building was obnoxiously luxurious—all gleaming glass and marble, with staff dressed like they belonged on a movie set. The hostess at the front desk greeted us with a bright smile.

"Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Thompson!" she chirped.

Barnes stiffened beside me. My stomach turned. "Yeah," I said through clenched teeth. "That’s us."

"We've prepared your suite as requested. Here is your key." She handed me a slim card with an embossed logo. "Enjoy your stay, and if you need anything, just let us know."

"Thanks," I muttered, snatching the card.

Barnes didn’t move until I elbowed him. "Come on, sweetheart," I said with exaggerated venom. "Let's go enjoy our romantic getaway."

His eyes narrowed dangerously, but he followed me to the elevator.

The ride up was torturously slow. When the doors opened, we strode down the hall in, again, tense silence. I swiped the keycard, pushed the door open, and stopped dead.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me."

The room was stunning, all polished wood and floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of the city skyline. But that wasn’t what had my stomach in knots.

The bed—the one, singular bed—was massive and covered in crisp white linens. Sitting dead center on the mattress was a folded piece of paper with bold, familiar handwriting.

"What the hell is that?" Barnes asked, stepping up beside me.

I grabbed the note and read it aloud:

"'Have fun. —Fury.'"

The paper crumpled beneath my grip as I clenched my fists. "That manipulative, one-eyed asshole," I hissed.

"Son of a bitch," Barnes muttered. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing the room like a caged animal. "He did this on purpose."

"Of course he did!" I threw my bag on the chair by the window with more force than necessary. "He thinks this is fucking funny."

Barnes paced faster. "This is exactly why I didn't want to do this mission with you."

"Oh, please," I snapped. "Like I'm thrilled about playing house with Tin Man over here."

He turned sharply to face me, his eyes narrowing. "You know what I’ve noticed about you? You never listen to anyone but yourself. It’s always your way or nothing."

I scoffed, crossing my arms. "Oh, I never listen? Are you seriously going to stand there and tell me that? You’re the one who can’t see past your own damn reflection."

Barnes’s jaw clenched, his hands tightening into fists. "It’s not about seeing past myself. It’s about you thinking you’re the only one with the right answers. You never take anyone else’s opinion seriously."

I rolled my eyes, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Yeah, because you always take other people’s feelings into account, right?"

He growled, taking a step forward. "I’m not the one who’s constantly barking orders without listening. You act like you’ve got everything figured out, and everyone else is just supposed to fall in line."

"Maybe if you’d ever considered what anyone else says for once instead of getting all up in your feelings, we’d get somewhere!" I shot back, my frustration boiling over. "But no, you’re too busy wallowing in your own self-righteousness, “I am a victim” shit, to notice anyone else!"

"You think I’m self-righteous?" He barked a bitter laugh. "You’re the most self-absorbed person I’ve ever met! You can’t see past your own agenda long enough to hear anything outside of it."

"Self-absorbed?" I snapped. "You’re one to talk! You think everything revolves around you, and you don’t even stop to think about how anyone else is trying to make this work. It’s YOUR way or nothing, Barnes!"

"I have to do it my way because your way is always ‘perfect’ in your mind!" His voice rose, the anger and frustration evident. "You’re so stuck on controlling every damn thing that you can’t even see you’re pushing everyone away!"

I took a deep breath, glaring at him. "You know what, Barnes? Maybe if you weren’t so wrapped up in your own damn ego, you’d realize I’m just trying to get shit done while you stand there acting like the world’s out to get you."

"Yeah, well maybe if you actually listened to the people around you, you wouldn’t have to do everything yourself!" He shot back, fists clenched.

"Fuck you, Barnes!" I snapped, voice seething.

"Right back at you, sweetheart!" he snarled.

We glared at each other, breathing hard. My hands shook from the adrenaline, from the sheer rage coiling in my gut.

The tension in the room shifted, from raw anger to something sharper, more dangerous. His eyes flicked to my mouth, just for a second, and that single glance sent a jolt of something electric through me.

I took a step back. "I'm taking the left side," I said, voice strained.

"Like hell you are," he growled. "I'm not sleeping next to you. I'd rather sleep on the floor."

"Perfect," I snapped. "Enjoy your hardwood honeymoon."

I grabbed my bag, stalked to the bathroom, and slammed the door behind me.

What the hell that argument was even about - I thought to myself. I didn't like the weird tension after we were done screaming at eachother. Pressing my back against the door, I squeezed my eyes shut and exhaled shakily.

But beneath the fury and the dread, there was the cold, undeniable truth neither of us had said aloud yet: I fucking hated him. Not just because he was an asshole. Not just because we couldn’t be in the same room without fighting.

I hated him because of her.

My sister. My heart. The only family I had and yet somehow - we were here, pretending to be a loving couple, while the ghost of her clung to every word we spoke. She’d want me to hate him, right? To get revenge on the man who killed her… I remember her being so soft, even in that harsh environment. She was an angel. So forgiving. And yet I knew I could not forgive HIM.

I wiped my eyes roughly and forced myself to breathe.

Tomorrow, we had a mission to do. And I didn’t have the luxury of falling apart just yet.

[evagelieneinthesky]

Bruce used Tony's phone to call Steve. The phone that Cap gave to Tony in case he ever needed him. They hadn't talked in years. Cap picked up the phone expecting Tony to be on the other side. After all these years he would have talked to Tony maybe even resolved their issues. Instead he heard a panicked and scared Bruce informing him that half of the world was about to end and Thor is probably dead. And that Tony is in space.

After the snap Steve Rogers believed that Tony Stark was dead. According to Steve, Tony had died without ever talking to him.

Steve Rogers lost Tony Stark three times.

[lexxicona]

Wasn’t he also a pall bearer for MLK jr?

Yall sleeping on this Sam L. Jackson interview about trump lmfao.

[thewrittenpodcast]

Peter: Grandpa!

Tony: what where

May: you don't have-

Fury, wearing a knitted sweater and scarf: me

Fury: I'm grandpa fury

Tony:

May:

May: I'm not even going to ask how that happened

[minaminokyoko]

I know nobody cares, but...

Marvel picked MY fucking short story, "Lost Cause," to be the official excerpt for the updated announcement of the Captain America: The Shield of Sam Wilson anthology.

No, really, look: https://www.marvel.com/articles/culture-lifestyle/captain-america-the-shield-of-sam-wilson-features-original-short-stories-excerpt-cover

I'm fucking shocked they picked mine. What a tremendous honor to represent our boy. <3

On the off chance someone cares, info below!

As a Black man in America, Sam Wilson knows he has to be twice as good to get half as much credit. He must be a paragon of virtue for a nation that has mixed feelings towards him. In these thirteen brand-new stories, the all-new Captain America must thwart an insurrectionist plot, travel back in time, foil a racist conspiracy, and save the world over and over again.

As the Falcon, Sam Wilson was the first African American super hero in mainstream comic books. Sam’s trials and tribulations reflect the struggles many Black Americans go through today, as Sam balances fighting supervillains and saving the world with the difficulties of being the first Black Captain America. This action-packed anthology inspired by the Marvel comic book universe, will see Sam team up with familiar friends like Steve Rogers, Redwing and Nomad, while fighting HYDRA, Sabretooth, Kingpin, and other infamous villains.

These are stories of death-defying courage, Black love and self-discovery. These are the stories of a super hero learning what it means to be a symbol. These are the stories of Sam Wilson.

Release date: January 14, 2025

Pre-order now in ebook, hardcover, or audiobook: https://www.amazon.com/Captain-America-Shield-Sam-Wilson/dp/1803363878

And can I pretty please get some notes? PWEASE? Struggling indie black author here, just saying.

[intothestacks]

I was flipping through one of the new books I got for the library and I came across this:

Nick Fury canonically owns a guinea pig, y'all.

[ramp-it-up]

Thank you for reblogging this. I love this one too much! <3

Shield High School Faculty and Staff

Mr. Nicholas Fury, Principal

Science

Dr.Bruce Banner Mr. Anthony Stark

Biology/ Chemistry Physics

Wrestling Forensics

Social Studies

Mr. Sam Wilson (Dept. Chair)

Government/Economics

Track

Mr. James Barnes Mr. Steven Rogers

World History US History

AP European History Baseball

Chess club

Math

Mr. Peter Parker

Calculus

Golf

English Literature

Mr. Loren Olson

British and World Literature

Fencing

World Language

Ms. Natasha Romanoff

Russian

Gymnastics

Electives

Mr. Eric Masterson

PE and Driver’s Education

Football

[billykcplan]

RECRUITMENT ↪ iron man (2008) ↪ the marvels (2023)

[dailymarvelstudios]

Captain Marvel (2019), dir. Anna Boden & Ryan Fleck

[themarysuep]

Some moments where Kamala was a total mood:

1. Asking Fury and Monica why their tablets are transparent when everything is top secret.

2. Geeking out when she puts on a comm unit (and Monica saying something like baby we hear you loll)

3. Making sure to find out what SABER stands for.

4. Getting excited at Fury having 'intel' on her.

5. Dancing on Aladna.

6. Agreeing that she's totally writing fanfic after seeing Yan and Carol together.

7. The Kree hiding from her in fear and her telling them she can't fly so can she have a space ship or something.

8. Going after the SABER crew with the flerkittens.

9. Sweeping her house when there was a literal hole in the roof 😭😭😭

10. Carol saying she feels lonely and her immediately replying that she will drop high school to spend time with Carol so she doesn't feel lonely.

[thesuperheroesnetwork]

Texts From Superheroes

Facebook | Threads | Patreon | Instagram

[hurtspideyparker]

Tony and Steve: *arguing in the meeting room*

Fury: You two need to learn to get along like grown men!

—Fury returns 3 mins later—

Tony and Steve: *making out on the table*

Fury: THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT

[anxietyriddenbutterfly]

Rewatching Captain America: The Winter Soldier just makes me think about how smart Steve is. I feel like he is often overshadowed by other Avengers, such as Bruce, Tony and Nat.

In WS, he has many moments that portray the way his brain thinks. My personal favorites are the elevator scene and when him and Nat arrive at the old army camp. He knows those agents are coming after him due to slight body language, such as a hand on a gun or a couple of beads of sweat while in the elevator. At the old army base, he is able to find the room with Zola with little information. He uses his knowledge on army regulations to find the old SHIELD office. From there, he is just able to notice little things that are off, such as the shelves that reveal the computer.

Sorry for the lil rant, but I just think Steve deserves more intellectual credit than the fandom gives him.

[incorrectquotesmcu]

Fury: Who’s the most annoying one of the Avengers?

Natasha: Everyone’s equally annoying.

Fury: [raises an eyebrow]

Natasha: ... Tony.