#v; soldiers following orders ( time agent au )

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

Missed You | Bucky x Reader | Mutually Beneficial AU | Drabble

You and Bucky have been dying for some alone time and there's a new thing he wants to try.

Warnings: 18+ sexual content, dom!Bucky, dirty talk, pet names & honourifics, daddy kink, oral sex, p in v, creampie, fingering, praise kink, bondage, spreader bar. S for smut and D for Daddy.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics & @reveriesources

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist | Mutually Beneficial Masterlist

Bucky held the flat silver tag between his metal thumb and forefinger, leading you towards your room as he stepped backwards.

"Missed you, Babydoll" he hushed.

"I've been right here, Sarge," you were aiming for even and controlled, but the way he leads you so gently, his dark eyes, you're already under his spell so your words are followed by a breathy gasp.

"No, you weren't, not really. And neither was I." He was right. It'd been such a long week. A mission gone horribly wrong led to an Agent in Bucky's squad getting shot. Not fatally, they were currently milking their wounded soldier status across the compound. But the guilt of it was burning through him. Between his mission, your reports, briefings and a mission of your own you hadn't had any time to be truly together.

"I know, Sarge. But I'm here now, whatever you want from me, I'm here," and you meant it. His need for some semblance of order, of control, to bring joy and not pain, you would always give that to him if he could. You leaned up, nudging your nose with this, planting a light kiss against his lips.

"Do you trust me?" He cooed, so close you could almost taste the sharp coldness of his minty toothpaste.

"Yes, Sarge," you can't help how quiet you become with him, barely a whisper.

"Good. Climb on the bed, Baby. Clothes off." You scramble onto your back, shedding your clothes in a pile on the floor. Eagerly you prop yourself up on your elbows, watching him watch you back, blue eyes blown dark.

He steps forwards slowly and reaches under the bed, pulling out a metal pole.

"I saw this, do you wanna play?" He holds it up in the dim light. Black metal with a soft cuff at either end.

"A spreader bar?" You thought you were wet before but this is nothing. Bucky researching on his own, buying sex toys while he thinks of you gives you such a rush you can barely contain yourself.

"God, yes, please!" You lay back again, legs spread waiting for him. Gently he cuffs one leg then the other, there's a little movement when you wiggle your ankle but you can't move your legs together or apart. Bucky looks down at you hungrily, watching as you test the limits of your bondage.

His hands danced up your legs, featherlight, "you look good like this, Babydoll, all spread out for me." His thumbs ran over you, teasing your drenched folds. Apart, a tentative swipe, and then together again. The ache worse than before, "you look beautiful. All mine. And you'll do as you're told, won't you, because you're a good girl." He tapped lightly with one finger against your clit illiciting a wanton desperate moan.

"I asked you a question, you'll be my good girl, won't you?" He tapped again, harder. You're not sure you've ever fallen so fast into subspace. You struggled for words, your brain fighting for coherent thoughts.

"Answer me, Babydoll, or have I got you wrong. Are you a bad girl after all?" He slapped the inside of your thigh, the damp of your own slick making it sting harder.

"I'll be good, Daddy," it slipped out before you could stop yourself but you're still reeling from his hands on you, too gone to notice.

"What did you call me?" He sat back, his patented stare in full effect, bringing you slowly back into the light.

"I'm sorry, Sarge, what did I say?" Heat suffused your cheeks, burning your skin.

"You called me Daddy." Bucky's voice was a low, rough growl that had your knees bending in.

It's not a word you'd used before with Bucky, once or twice with other partners and certainly in the porn you watch. But you haven't talked about it. This wasn't in your negotiations. Your blood runs cold and that single coherent thought that struggled so hard before floats to the surface 'you've ruined everything'.

"Sorry, Daddy, I mean, I said Daddy, sorry, Daddy, I mean Sarge, Daddy, Sir. Sorry."

Bucky smirked and licked his bottom lip before taking it between his teeth briefly.

"Are you angry, don't be angry, Daddy, Sarge, Sir, sorry. I, I can't think. I - please. Just punish me, I'm sorry. I-" he let's his lip drop, licking over the bite mark again. He knew exactly what that did to you, how it made you feel hot all over.

"You're not in trouble" His hand was gentle as it skimmed your cheek. "Didn't know you'd like that. Didn't know I liked that" His thumb rubbed over your lip, and you took the opportunity to lick the pad, pulling the digit into your mouth. Vibranium doesn't really taste of anything, but the action was soothing, a hint of your own arousal lingering.

"You keep calling me that, Baby, and you can have anything you want. Okay?" He popped his thumb out of your mouth and trailed it around your nipple before giving the nub a little tweak.

You squeaked in surprise, "Yes, Daddy," and he groaned back.

"I think it's been long enough. I need to feel you, Baby, you be good and still for me, okay." He tugged the bar between your legs, pulling you further down the bed before carefully flipping you over, ass in the air and face pressed into the blankets.

"Yes, Daddy," you chanted again and Bucky was glad you couldn't see him, pressing his own face into the curve of your spine to hide his grin.

"Good girl," he pushed in as his praise made you flutter, griping your hips as he set a slow, firm pace, pressing against the soft secret spot inside that makes you see stars. His pace wasn't fast but Bucky was always relentless, no space to think, just him and you and the way he makes you feel.

"Feels good, I missed you so much, I needed this." You moaned out, whining before you could stop the pathetic noise from escaping. You were back to black, nothing but the feel of Bucky inside you, his hands on your body. He roamed further, pressing gently and tweaking at your clit, hard and aching under you. You rutted back trying to get some control to push you over the edge he had you dangling over.

"No, no, Babydoll, be a good girl." He grabbed the bar and slowly pushed it further up the bed, forcing your knees closer to your chest and bending you almost in half, "you can be good for me, right? All I need you to do is stay there," he punctuated his command with a slap to your ass, but you were already nodding your head as hard as you could, your hand under your forehead to keep you upright, "I knew you could be good for Daddy."

That did it, hearing him say it back was too much, electricity coiled up from your toes, a shock of lighting up your spine as you spasm and clutch at him however you can.

"Daddy!" You mewled as you came, your hand reaching back for his, fingers closing around your wrist and holding it down against the bed as he lost control, hips stuttering, bruising against your back. You both fell forward into the mattress as he filled you, deep and hot, painting ever inch of you.

"Jesus, fuck, baby," his nose rubbed against your back, hot kisses running down your spine, keeping you spread out, hands above your head.

The cuffs left your ankles but you stayed prone on the bed anyway, only turning enough to smile back at Bucky, his hair sticking up with sweat. You followed a droplet down his chest, gulping when you noticed he's still half hard.

"Let's take a minute," he kissed each ankle while he helped you turn onto your back, wrapping each leg around his waist and holding you against him as you come down from your high. "Oh baby, don't wanna waste anything," he chided, lifting your hips a little higher, leaning forwards and sliding a hand over you where his cum seeps down your leg. Two fingers swiped through it and meet your lips encouraging you to suck. His other hand palmed his seed back into you, fucking two fingers in and out slowly, gently curling and pulling another surprising orgasm past your lips. Silent and begging you gasp and writhe beneath him, too tired and fucked out to do more than take the pleasure he was giving you.

His kisses were back then, fluttering over your temple and your ear.

"Beautiful, Babydoll, beautiful," is the last thing you heared, floating into sleepy bliss.

"Thank you, Daddy."

[sgtnightwolfinthetardis]

We Create Our Own Safety

Pairing: Winter Soldier x Mutant Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,118

Summary: When HYDRA operatives try to take advantage of a Winter Soldier rendered helpless by his handlers’ orders, they discover just how dangerous you can be, and how fiercely you will protect what is yours.

Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual content (p in v), unprotected sex, rough sex, attempted rape/HYDRA trash party, violence, blood, feral!reader, Winter Soldier’s fierce competencey kink, both of them are possessive as fuck.

A/N: I will write that challenge fic eventually, I swear, but it's like they refuse to let me write them with Bucky as himself until I write him as the Winter Soldier. This fic was born from my all consuming need to stab anyone who has ever hurt or even caused mild discomfort to James Buchanan Barnes. HYDRA trash party? Not in my fucking AU! I have no beta so any mistakes are my own.

You raced down the hallway, nose searching desperately for the scent of gunpowder and leather. Training had been exhausting, but ultimately successful. It still galled you to do what the scientists and handlers ordered you to, but you had learned quickly that defiance brought only agony. Obedience however, brought you freedom to roam the complex for a time, which meant you got to see your soldier.

He wasn’t in his room or the gym, the usual places you found him in. You knew he wasn’t on a mission, and despite the fact that he could more than take care of himself, you were beginning to feel an uneasy twinge in your stomach. It was only as you moved deeper into the complex that you finally caught a hint of his scent. At least, you thought it was his scent. There was something different about it that you couldn’t place, and it set your heart racing as the uneasy feeling in your gut grew.

You started to sprint, following the scent to a large door. You stopped in front of it, wincing as the difference in scent became clear. Your soldier’s scent had a bitter tang to it, a scent you had come to associate with distress. Everything within you stood at attention as you moved to the door. You could practically hear his voice in your head, scolding you for your recklessness, but it didn’t matter. He was the only good thing in a life of nightmares, your protector, your soldier. If he was in trouble, you would throw yourself between him and that trouble every time.

You slipped into the room silently, and took in the scene in front of you. Assorted HYDRA operatives lounged throughout the room, chatting and indulging in copious amounts of food and drink. In the corner of the room was a bed, and on the bed was your soldier. He was pressed up against the wall the bed was pushed against, a large agent looming over him. The agent had one hand stroking over the prominent bulge in his pants, the other at the soldier's waist, undoing his belt.

“ What was it the handlers told the Asset?” the agent turned his head to ask his nearby friend with a sick grin. “Your orders are to stay and entertain the men. ”

The agent and his friend laughed. The soldier's face remained emotionless but the bitterness in his scent spiked. You froze in horror, realization washing over you.

“I can think of a few ways that you can be of entertainment, Asset,” the agent said lustfully, pulling the soldier's belt out of its loops.

The sound broke you out of your trance, as everything grew unnaturally quiet in your mind. There was a darkness in you, something completely feral and driven by instinct. You kept your mind when you transformed, but it was always there, lying dormant. It was what the scientists and handlers wanted to draw out of you, using pain, exhaustion, anything they could think of. You always pushed it back, away. You had been doing so your whole life. This time however, when you felt it rise up, you embraced it, letting it crash over you like a wave.

You moved without conscious thought, quick strides that brought you to the agent’s side. You grabbed the hand that had still held your soldier’s belt and snapped it back, delighting in the satisfying crack of the agent’s wrist as it broke.

“Get your fucking hands off him!” You snarled, shoving the agent back and placing yourself between him and your soldier.

“What the fuck, you stupid little bitch!” The agent cried out as he cradled his wrist.

You could feel the eyes of the whole room on you as you concentrated on the prickling in your fingertips. Your nails grew and hardened, a wolf’s claws forming on human hands. The smile that crept onto your face was malicious as you stared at the man who had dared to lay a hand on your soldier, who had planned to use and violate him without a second thought.

“I said, get you fucking hands off him,” you repeated in a low and exaggerated voice, your disdain dripping from every syllable.

“You have no idea who you are dealing with,” the agent said. Other agents and operatives from around the room began to rise from their seats and move towards the commotion.

The fight that followed was swift and bloody. The agents were trained and had the numbers advantage, but they were no match for your enhanced strength or your claws, and you wielded both with murderous intent. You cared little for the blood you split, the wolf’s mentality and your own rage shielding you from any squeamishness you might have felt.

The room was filled with groans by the time the last agent went down, a sea of injured bodies littering the floor. You had blood dripping down your hands and your clothes were rumpled and torn as you let loose a howl of victory that was chilling coming from a human throat. You stalked back over to the first agent who was bleeding steadily from numerous cuts and cradling broken ribs with his one good arm. You crouched down and grabbed him by the shirt collar, taking dark delight in his broken gasps of pain.

“If you ever try to touch him again, I will tear your fucking throat out with my teeth!” Your voice was steady and calm as you spoke, not a threat but a promise. Your words, while meant for the agent, carried to all in the room.

You turned from the agent and made your way to your soldier, who still sat motionless on the bed. Reaching out a hand, you hauled him to his feet using strength that was usually kept well hidden. You maneuvered him quickly to the door, snarling at any agent or operative that so much as twitched from their spot on the ground.

Every sense you had was on full alert, and your heart pounded in your chest as you slammed the door behind you, scanning the hallway in front of you for danger. Your soldier was silent as he moved with you through the hallway, though you could feel his gaze burning into your back, not even offering a protest when you growled at him for creating too great a distance between you. He simply stepped closer and gripped your hand tighter.

When you finally made it to his room, the door had barely shut behind you before you were being shoved against it. Your soldier crashed his lips against yours, his mouth warm and demanding. You moaned into his mouth and it only served to drive him deeper into a frenzy. His hand moved to grip your face and he pressed his body against you so tightly that you could barely feel where you ended and he began. You were light headed by the time he released you, moving his lips just far enough off of yours for you to draw desperately needed air into your lungs.

“Fucking embodiment of vengeance,” your solider mumbled against your lips as his hands worked to strip you of your clothes. “You tore through them!”

“Did you like it, soldier?” you cooed wickedly, his words making you feel powerful. “Did it get you all hot and bothered, watching me stake my claim on you?”

He growled, hauling your naked boy over his shoulder and stalking towards the bed. He threw you down, enjoying the slight squeak you let out when you landed. “Am I yours then, little wolf?” He asked, tossing his uniform carelessly into the corner, piece by piece, as he stripped. Once he was naked he crawled onto the bed and knelt between your legs, eyeing your naked body with hunger.

You gave him a sweet smile before bringing your legs up and kicking him in the chest, knocking him onto his back on the bed. You sprung up from your prone position, moving swiftly to crawl up his body, taking special care to drag your dripping core over his erection. The moan he let out as you moved over him was music to your ears. You continued to rut against him as you ran your hands through his hair, before tugging his head back harshly so you could kiss and bite your way down his neck.

“You are my soldier! Mine!” You whispered harshly into his ear, before biting down on the lobe. “But I am yours too. Your little wolf. Yours, soldier. So fuck me like it!”

He had you flipped over seconds after the words left your mouth, impaling himself within you in one swift thrust. Your soldier was an impressive man in all respects, and even as wet as your were his cock still split you open. You threw your head back, screaming at the delicious stretch that just skirted the edge of too much.

“Mine!” Your soldier snarled out as he set a punishing pace, each stroke harder and deeper than the last. “My little wolf, take it so well!”

You whined underneath him, unable to do anything but scratch desperate lines down his back and hang on. It soothed the wildest part of you. Your soldier was here, aiming to see if he could actually fuck you through the mattress, he wasn’t trapped by the cage of his handlers commands.

When his flesh hand moved between your bodies to rub furiously at your clit, you closed your eyes and just let yourself feel. You weren’t foolish enough to believe there would be no repercussions to your actions. You would pay heavily for your interference, but you didn’t care. They could make you scream, but never like your soldier could. This moment of bliss would stay with you through their torture, a reminder that your solider was worth it, worth everything.

“They can’t have you,” he swore as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. “ You are mine little wolf, branded into whatever tattered remains of my soul are left.”

You cried out as the coil in your gut twisted tighter and tighter, reaching up to pull him down closer to you. You wanted to feel him everywhere, to drown in his presence and his scent.

“Give it to me,” He demanded, hips snapping. “If you’re mine, then give it to me!”

You came with a deep moan, melting into the mattress as he fucked your though your high. You sighed as you felt him paint your insides just a few thrusts later, relishing in the feel of his teeth on you as he bit down on your shoulder to muffle his groan. He licked over the bite mark he left before moving to press his forehead against yours.

Eventually he pulled out slowly and maneuvered you to lay in his arms, dragging the blanket you had knocked clear of the bed in your frenzy over you both. For some time you lay there in the silence, drinking in the other’s presence, and the rare moment that held no pain for either of you.

The sound of far off footsteps reached your ears at the same time, a harsh signal that your peace was at an end. You both dressed quickly, and despite your belief that whatever was coming was worth it, your body still shook. Your soldier stepped closer and pulled you into his arms, tucking your head under his chin.

You stood locked together as the doorknob started to turn, ready to face your captors together. Your soldier looked down at you and you found comfort in the steadiness of his blue eyes. HYDRA may command you both like they owned you, but it was a lie, you belonged only to each other.

[gabriel-gabdiel]

What if earlier sentai were incorporated by Power Rangers as Secret Agent or CIA Rangers?

Here’s how I’d envision it.

Billy contacts Gosei in order to research the different ranger forms they've gained access to thanks to the Super Megaforce Power Rangers. It's through him that they discover that the U.S. government has been making their own rangers even before Grid Battleforce became a thing, around the late 1970s all the way to the 1980s.

Government Rangers

-  The U.S. government have known about the Power Rangers since the exploits of the Wild West Rangers, who retired as honorary government agencies and turned their power coins in for study.

- Their research revealed that Zordon has been attempting to make Power Rangers since before banishing Rita Repulsa to the dumpster 10,000 years ago. He's been around for millions of years, in fact, and has been making rangers since the dinosaur period, hence the MMPR being dinosaur and prehistoric themed. Even before man developed into a civilization, Zordon has been looking on earth for rangers to help battle against Evil Space Aliens.

- The government or agent rangers are as follows:

1. Secret Agent Power Rangers (Himitsu Sentai Gorenger) and Special Agent Power Rangers (J.A.K.Q. Dengekitai): The United States government, specifically the CIA, created their own Power Rangers based on the Wild West Rangers' Power Coins to combat Space Aliens taking over terrorist groups at the time. No zords just ships. (1975-1978)

2. Battle Force Power Rangers (Battle Fever J): The United Nations created their own Power Rangers with representatives from different countries. The first Earth Task Force Power Rangers were able to access their own zords to deal with the giant monsters of the day being unleashed by the Alien Terrorist Groups, which combined to form the Battle Force Megazord. (1979-1980)

3. Electro-Magnetic Pulse Power Rangers (Denshi Sentai Denjiman): CERN (formed back in 1954) then tries their hand at making a new ranger team by combining the Morphin Grid' power with electro-magnetism, resulting in the EMP Power Rangers. They were summoned to defeat an AU version of Rita Repulsa (Queen Hedrian) that was never trapped in the dumpster. (1980-1981)

4. Solar Power Rangers (Taiyo Sentai Sun Vulcan): CERN gets into contact with Zordon at last and learned about the original Solar Rangers from thousands of years ago. They ended up creating their own Solar Power Rangers to combat the cyborg version of the same AU Rita Repulsa from before and an AU version of the Machine Empire. (1981-1982)

5. Power Rangers Victory (Dai Sentai Goggle-V): The U.N.'s second attempt at an international team of rangers, but this time taken from civilian athletes and Olympians instead of soldiers. The Second Earth Task Force Power Rangers or Power Rangers Victory dealt with the Illuminati, which was responsible for the destruction of many past civilizations. (1982-1983)

6. Power Rangers Bionic (Choudenshi Bioman): The Bionic Rangers were developed by the U.N. and CERN using advanced bionic technology using info on the direct descendants of Zordon's prehistoric attempts at creating Power Rangers with the Dino Power Coins. Their D.N.A. and early exposure to the Morphin Grid made them more powerful than the average government ranger soldier. They faced off against heralds of our universe's Machine Empire led by the brilliant scientist turned deranged crackpot cyborg Doctor Man. (1984-1985)

7. Power Animal Rangers (Choujuu Sentai Liveman): The Animal Rangers were the first animal-themed rangers and the second team of civilians being used as Power Rangers since Bionic. They too had roots from Zordon's prehistoric attempts at creating Power Rangers and their powers evolved from using dinosaurs to using modern animals. They faced off against relatives who ended up becoming part of the Illuminati. (1988-1989)

8. Power Jet Rangers (Chojin Sentai Jetman): The Jet Rangers bird-themed Power Ranger team of U.S. Air Force pilots that served as CERN, U.N., NASA, and Zordon's attempt at combining Morphin Grid powers with the tech they've developed to create their own rangers. They faced off against virus-themed super villains from space. Eventually, Zordon decided to man his own team of rangers without the government's help. (1991-1992)

New Powers or Powers Never Before Seen on Earth (AU Rangers or Alien Rangers)

- There were also new powers accessed by Super Megaforce never before seen on Earth. These were alien or alternate universe rangers ended up facing off against different sets of invading villains as managed by Zordon and Alpha-5.

1. Power Rangers Battalion (Kagaku Sentai Dynaman): The Battalion Rangers were from the alternate timeline where the AU Rita Repulsa resides. They battled her invading army of Evil Space ALiens but failed and were de-powered but their power set were preserved in the multi-dimensional Morphin Grid. The Blitz Rangers are the new powers of the Battalion Rangers. (1983-1984)

2. Power Rangers Blitz (Dengeki Sentai Changeman): The Blitz Rangers has the legendary creature motifs of Dragon, Pegasus, Griffon, Mermaid, and Phoenix. They also have elemental powers to them. They came from the same universe as Battalion and sent AU Rita back in time into a different earth timeline... the original MMPR timeline where her counterpart was trapped in a dumpster for 10,000 years but around 5-6 years ago. (1985-1986)

3. Power Rangers Prism (Choushinsei Flashman): The Prism Rangers seem to use hard light/prism power as hand-to-hand combat power augmentations. It is unknown how exactly this team obtained their powers, but they were known to have known Zordon, and so were likely to have been empowered by him. The Prism Rangers resided on an extraterrestrial planet, where they were attacked by a young Astronema who wanted to know Zordon's location. (1986-1987)

4. Lightning Power Rangers (Hikari Sentai Maskman): These Rangers seem to be highly adept at martial arts. Their Legendary Ranger Keys also allow the Legendary Megazord to perform an aura attack. Their power is based on harnessing the body's aura power. They faced off against an Underground Alien Empire but won in the end. Their version of Rita has no powers and has a son who's a commander in the Alien Empire.  (1987-1988)

5. Power Rangers Super Turbo (Kousoku Sentai Turboranger): Actually, the original and more powerful version of the Power Rangers Turbo power set. Zordon derived the Turbo Ranger powers from Super Turbo. By gaining this power set, the Turbo Rangers also end up with new powerful vehicle zords out of it. (1989-1990)

6. Supersonic Power Rangers (Chikyu Sentai Fiveman): The Supersonic Rangers were the Ranger team of Planet Xybria. The team were killed and their powers destroyed following the betrayal of their Green Ranger. Even though their physical Morphers were destroyed, their Ranger Powers have been preserved within the Morphin Grid. (1990-1991)

7. Power Rangers Thunder Squadron (Gosei Sentai Dairanger): The powers the MMPR recently unlocked as the Thunder Power Rangers whose totems allowed them to control the Thunder Zords. The original Squadron Rangers are a Ranger team from Planet 0117 of the A47 Galaxy. Having received their powers from the Morphinaut, they cycled through multiple Ranger powers across time & space before eventually becoming the said Squadron Rangers. (1993-1994)

[oftorchwood-blog]

@friendoftheood [X]

“Wow, talk about a blast from the past...             I have seen track suits like that since, God, oh-five?”

“Not from around here, are you blondie?”

[wilsonsnest]

winter, Sweetheart - II

follows winter, Sweetheart

winter soldier au | bucky and sam are both hydra assets. 

warnings: dehumanization, angst, hurt and very little comfort, hydra awfulness

Alexander Pierce talks to the Soldier like he's a person and it shakes him to the core. Perhaps it's because everyone else gives him a wide berth, treats him like he's just another piece of equipment in the machine. They don’t speak to him except to give orders or hear mission reports and they certainly never ask if he wants a glass of milk.

He’s stock still, hidden mostly in the shadows of Pierce’s wealthy suburban home. The Falcon is standing behind him, a little antsy, not having quite perfected the Soldier’s rigid attention.

Pierce maintains a sort of gentlemanly disposition and gestures to another seat at the table.

“You’re welcome to take a seat.” He smiles almost paternalistically, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

Before the Falcon can move, the Soldier raises his flesh hand, a signal to stop. He doesn’t think that the Falcon would have taken Pierce up on the request, but it's important to establish the rules.

Hydra controls the Soldier. When the Falcon is awake, the Soldier takes care of him.

He hears a noise from outside the home and gives a pointed two-fingered signal. It’s likely nothing, but it’s an easy way to get the Falcon out of the room. He doesn’t like the way Pierce looks at him, cold but calculating, like he’s trying to figure something out.

He looks like he wants to make a comment, but then clearly decides against whatever he was going to say. His face becomes very serious. “The time table has moved.”

He proceeds to lay out the terms of the mission. It’s always very informal when it's Pierce, its sets the Soldier’s teeth on edge and he has to work to keep the tension from his jaw. Two targets. 10 hours. He can handle that well enough.

His human hand twitches, theres a knock on the door and he watched as Pierce’s eyes slide toward the gun on the table. He knows the Falcon will take care of it if it’s a viable threat. They try the key, to no avail, the Falcon can hold it shut with the barest of effort. After more persistent knocking they leave, though the tension in the room only slightly decreases.

Pierce seems a little relieved, but in the way of a predator whose just a little too lazy to chase after the wounded prey five yards away from them. Any closer and they would have died.

When he turns to look at the Soldier again, he assumes that Pierce is just going to dismiss him. That’s fine with him, he and the Falcon have to come up with a plan and begin moving out. He also doesn’t have much time, once this mission is complete...

“Once you complete this, the world will be ineradicably changed.” Pierce says with conviction. “A lifetime of service deserves a reward.”

The Soldier’s hand curls tightly in his lap, Pierce’s tight smile is sharp like a sharks. At that moment, the Falcon walks back towards them, the warm lights at his back give him an almost angelic glow. He nods to the Soldier, but carefully makes sure not to look at Pierce.

Reward. Pierce is giving him a pointed look and the Soldier feels his chest tighten just the slightest bit. When the missions are completed, the Falcon goes back into cryo until he is needed again. He’s barely had any time with him at all.

If he can complete this mission.

The Soldier looks over at Pierce, he wants to ask if that’s a promise. If he swears on his life. But fear keeps his tongue. In the end, he has no real control in this situation. He walks a knife’s edge of protecting both himself and the Falcon from anything else Hydra wants to do to ‘improve’ on them. Getting wiped again so soon will do neither of them favors.

If he can complete this mission.

Fury should have been difficult, but he wasn’t. He can take down two more easily. Then Hydra will have the World, and the Soldier will the Falcon. He’s earned it. His reward.

“10 hours.” Pierce says, and tips his glass to the Soldier before dismissing them both.

xxx

“So what’s the plan?” the Falcon asks easily, once they are far enough away from Pierce’s home.

It’s always fascinating to the Soldier how talkative his comrade is when they aren’t around Hydra techs. Theoretically, he shouldn’t remember to afraid of them  - but the Falcon is almost eerily quiet and compliant when in Hydra presence.  It could be part of his programming, to recognize members of the organization and immediately become obedient, though the Soldier hates to think they have gotten that good and reconfiguring to the brain.

He thinks it may just be a holdover, something innate in the Falcon’s psychology from when they first brought him in that tells him he can’t trust them. It’s so deep that even Hydra can’t make it go away.

It suits the Soldier fine, if they don’t know how much of the Falcon’s personality is really left, they won’t work to try and take it away.

“Procedure as usual.” The Soldier answers, they’re down by the shipping docks. Their base of operations is an empty storage warehouse, dilapidated, but uninteresting enough to ward off urban explorers. “You track them. I kill them. Then I will need a pick-up.”

“No back-up?” The Falcon asks, though he isn’t look at the Soldier. He’s looking out past the water, fascinated by something. Even with his enhanced sight, the Soldier can see nothing out on the dark river. Falcon’s eyesight is much more enhanced than his own though, he can probably see things happening on the other side of the river.

“We will have back-up.” Though it’s not necessary or wanted in this scenario. Really, they’ll end up just getting in the way since he has the Falcon by his side. “I still need a pick-up.” He says pointedly.

The little hum Falcon lets out sounds almost amused to the Soldier. It’s a nice sound. The Falcon doesn’t really laugh, but he has a greater emotive range than the Soldier does.

Suddenly the Falcon stops, turns toward the water, he stares and tilts his head, curious. “People on a boat. Medium yacht, a lot of lights.” He pauses for a moment, his mouth quirks upward on one side. “Loud music, it’s very inconspicuous.”

The Soldier listens and he can hear something ever so faintly. Likely, the Falcon hears it much clearer. For a moment he just stares at the other man, wondering what he’s thinking. Is his brain trying to remind him of his life before Hydra? A memory desperately shaking loose from the depths Hydra has buried it in his head? It’s a dangerous precedent to let him dwell on.

The Soldier takes the Falcon’s right hand in his own, squeezes gently. They're in the dark, and he knows that the Hydra agents at the hideout aren’t positioned this way. It’s one of the few safe spaces where he can be kind.

“We have a mission.” He reminds, quietly but firmly. The Falcon straightens, rigid and then nods. He’ll likely forget about the interruption soon enough. “We can share a protein bar over coordinate mapping.”

“A protein bar?” The lilt of his voice edges on teasing as he follows along side the Soldier, intertwining their fingers as though it were the most normal thing in the world. “I don’t think that’s normal mission protocol.”

The Soldier shrugs and carries on, the rusted shipping warehouse looms above them. “You deserve it, Sweetheart.”

[ask-aph-nyo-france-deactiva-blog]

Heya, Saoirse here!! I have been assigned to ask you a question for the aph Ask event!🌟 Okay, so I was wondering if you could tell me a little bit about Bread culture in France and just *how* seriously you guys take it? (Cuz from what I know, it seems pretty *serious* lol)🌟 Thank you!! :^))

Hi there ! Thank for your question ! Oh there is so much to talk about, so let’s start with the beginning, shall we ?

Where does it come from ? :

Most civilisations had been using cereals to make some kind of bread early on in Antiquity (and even before that), but they didn’t have a leavening agent so it looked more like a cake or a gruel. The first hints of leavened bread using yeast, closer to what we know today, could date back to aroud 4000 BC in Egypt. From there, it progresively spread around the Mediterranean, to Greece and then Rome. Some gaulish tribes, who were using flat unleavened bread, learnt leavening techniques through commerce with the Romans, and this knowledge later spread through the entire gallo-roman territory after Julius Cesar’s conquest in 52 BC. Bread has remained a basis of people’s diet in France ever since, especially thanks to the importance of agriculture in the country. (So thank you Rome I guess !)

Religion :

France was a catholic country from the early Middle Ages to the early 20th century. Catholicism is still the main religion in the country and has had an undeniable influence on french culture over the centuries. Therefore bread was also very important as a symbol, as it represents the body of the Christ in the Bible. 

Worth a revolution ? :

Though it’s far from being the only one, bread is on of the reasons for the French Revolution in 1789. Back then, the nobles ate white bread made from the finest flour and much more expensive, while the rest of the population ate brown bread made from whole flour and sometimes using other cereals than wheat, and the poorest usually could not afford an entire loaf. The situation already wasn’t great, but in 1788 and 1789, harvests were spoiled by harsh winters. Because of an important tax on windmills productin and cereals entering a city, prices went up, bread became unaffordable and some people started using unusual ingredients to make bread like… sawdust ! In the meantime, nobles in Versailles didn’t lack anything and had access to as much bread as they wanted. On the 5th of October 1789, 7000 to 8000 parisians, mainly women, marched to Versailles demanding bread for their families. This eventually led to the king being brought back to Paris and signing the Declaration of the Rights of Men and of the Citizen. (PS : Marie-Antoinette never said “Let’s give them cake !”)

And today ? :

Though bread consumption has decreased a lot in the last hundred years, it is still a main ingredient of french diet. It is served with every meal, from breakfast to dinner. When travelling, we are often surprised to have to pay for it in restaurants in other countries because, in France, bread is served for free !

Boulangerie and Boulangers :

La boulangerie is the place where you can buy bread. Nowadays all supermarkets also sell bread for it has a reputation of being of a lesser quality so many people still go to the traditional shop. There is a boulangerie in almost every city, town and village in France and there can be a fiece competition between shops close to each other. Nearly every boulangerie is also a bakery, where you can find pâtisseries and viennoiseries such as croissants, pain au chocolats and many other delicious things. A boulangerie, in Vannes :

Le boulanger (fem: la boulangère) is the person who makes the bread. People in France tend to have respect for this job since it is a hard one. Boulangers have to wake up very early to prepare fresh bread for the morning, it can be very physical and not always very profitable. Yet we couldn’t do without them. Bread is typically made three times a day, around 7am, midday and 6pm, basically once for every meal. But it can be less or more depending on the number of clients.

Boule or Baguette ? :

What ?! The famous stereotype of the french baguette is fake ? Well, not really. Actually the word baguette refers to a shape and not a recipe, so there are many different ones ! The other popular shape is la boule, which is in fact the traditional round loaf of bread. Both shapes can be made from various different flours though it’s usually a white wheat flour. Add to it water, salt and leavening made from yeast and you’ve got the basic ingredients for any bread.

There are different theories as to why the baguette was created. One of them is that it was invented for Napoleon’s army as it was easier for the soldiers to carry it. Another says it was invented during the creation of the parisian metro. Workers often got into fights with each other and since they carried a knife with them to cut their loaf of bread, the man in charge of the construction ordered the creation of a bread people could break with their bare hands so they wouldn’t bring potential weapons in the galleries.

As I said before, there can be many recipes of baguette. The cheapest one is called the classique, which you can find anywhere but it’s not very good in my opinion. The others are called traditional baguette, and they usually taste better. Some boulangers have their own recipe but others use approved or pattented recipes such as la tradition, la croquise,etc. 

Look what I got this morning ! A tradition, and a croissant :

Even on TV ! :

I think we’ve already established that bread is a pretty serious subject in France. But did you know we even have a tv show about it ? No of course you didn’t ! There are many competitions that reward the best boulangers of the country and one of them is a televised competition between 64 candidates called La Meilleure Boulangerie de France. It airs one one of the main tv channels, and just begun its fifth season this september.

Sayings and expression : 

Here are a few common expressions using the word for bread, pain, as further proof of its cultural importance.

Avoir du pain sur la planche - To have bread on the board/table : To have a lot of work ahead. Comes from the fact that making bread takes a lot of time and work.

Gagner son pain - Earning one’s bread : Earning enough to live / having a salary. Simply comes from the fact that bread is a daily food and considered a bare minimum.

Mettre un pain à quelqu’un - To put a bread to someone : Punching someone. I guess it comes from the shape of a loaf of bread resembling the shape of a fist… I can’t really explain that one. Just try to visualise hitting someone with a loaf of bread.

Did you know ?

In France, you’re not supposed to bite directly in the bread when eating. Most people don’t follow that rule in their daily life, but in a formal environment, you’re supposed to break it into small bits with your hands, it’s more refined.

I’ve heard you’re supposed to bite the end of the baguette, called le croûton, when you buy it before getting home. I’ve nerver seen people actually doing that when growing up but apparently it’s a thing… in Paris at least.

France isn’t the country with the largest variety of bread, that’s actually Germany.

For more information : 

On the history of bread in France, from Antiquity to the 17th century : (I only put the link to the first page)

http://leslefts.blogspot.fr/2015/01/french-bread-history-bread-of-gauls.html

On french daily habbits, a video of the mini-series “What the Fuck France” by Paul Taylor : 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wOl3EWowQ_c

I hope this wasn’t too long ! I tried to cover everything but if you see something missing, don’t hesitate to add it ! (I may or may not edit this with drawings when I have more time !)

@aphaskevent​

[writingwell]

3 Words Prompt: SpyCastle, ArmyAU, Start

#262 (this is literally the very beginning of the AU of Spy Castle called Army Spy)

—–

Never leave a trace behind.

Well, it had worked. A little too well.

The son of Special Agent John Black sat hunched in the booth at the back of the room, his eyes sweeping and scanning the bar, cataloging every movement, unable to let go of battle-ready, combat alert.

He had no name, no passport, no driver’s license. He’d been an Army Ranger six months ago, but then his father had terminated the project when half the squad went AWOL after the rest had committed suicide. Yet, he was still here, ticking along without a problem, popping supplements like candy and drinking his gallon and a half of water like a good boy. He’d been trained to follow orders, and he didn’t see much reason not to.

It worked for him. Had worked.

He had no name now but it had once been Richard. Most people didn’t know that one, though his CO, Captain Eastman, must have been CIA Special Operations because he had known the truth. Eastman had let him go with a sigh, told him not to deal New York City too much damage.

Richard was on the hunt. For what, he had no idea. He just needed something… other. A taste of it. Just for a week, a week to stop looking and moving and answering like an Army Ranger, and then he’d be stationed in Ireland for a long-term mission, back to operative assignments where his father needed his services.

He wasn’t looking forward to Ireland, but he couldn’t go back to the Army either. It didn’t hold the appeal it once had, after the Towers had fallen, to get out there and do something about the evil in the world. Not when the guy he stared down the rifle scope loved his kids and kissed his wife, and the only intel Castle had on him was a word from some bureaucrat.

Not when half his unit had never gotten back-up, out there stranded, abandoned. No bureaucrat in sight.

Castle had been taught by the best at West Point, and in Afghanistan, he’d seen every wrong move and every shit tactical decision that went against the best ideas of commanders on the ground, not to mention his CIA training, and he just couldn’t go back to following orders.

“Soldier,” the waitress said, coming around with his drink. She placed the tumbler of Scotch on the scarred wood and nodded as she left, not bothering to force him into conversation. He appreciated that at least.

He never drank. Another rule he hadn’t cared enough about to break until now. His father never drank, and so Richard had never touched it until West Point. In order to blend in, he’d started a habit with his friends of drinking just enough. He’d acquired the officers’ taste - Scotch on the rocks. He swirled it around the glass now, watching the amber diffuse across the ice.

He took a long swallow and let it burn.

It was enough. He’d nurse it for a few hours, he decided, and then he’d find the CIA safe house near Harlem, sleep long enough to forget upon waking where he was.

Right. That never happened. Still, it’d be nice to try. Sleep so hard and so long that when he came to in the darkness, for just a moment he could be anywhere at all.

He remembered that feeling, that disorientation upon waking. He’d been five and his father had stuck him in a bunk house on the training grounds at Clayton that Christmas break. He’d woken alone, no understanding of where he’d been, no clue or hints in the darkness, only the starched sheets under his cheek. He’d been with his father for a week by that time and the sense of maybe it was all a dream had been so fierce that the sensation had been pleasant and appealing.

If he could do that again, he thought maybe his life would make sense for him.

He wasn’t a kid any longer. He wasn’t even a fresh-faced recruit or an Army Ranger on a mission; he was a 32 year old guy whose whole point of existence was Leave no trace behind.

It was fucking him up a little. He just needed a week to be nothing and no one before he dove into Ireland and Foley again. He couldn’t forget what Colleen had done to him there on his very first mission out of training years ago, and though he’d matured since then, figured out his shit, he couldn’t help feeling like he was doomed to repeat his past.

And then the door opened and summer sun walked right inside the bar.

Doomed had a whole new meaning.

—–

She stepped inside like she owned the place, but he saw - because he was trained to see - that she wore her confidence like armor and below that, in the glints of green in those brown eyes, she wanted nothing more than to not be here.

In this bar.

She approached the bartender with a discreet tuck of her hand into his, and Castle watched the man glance at the paper he’d been palmed. She had worked the exchange professionally, even if the bartender had not, and Castle admired the skill.

She wasn’t a professional, he didn’t think, but it did make him pause.

Middle twenties, early side, probably twenty-four. Young enough to be cautiously optimistic, old enough to think she’d seen it all. Dark hair pulled back into a pony tail in deference to the heat, a sleeveless shirt with a long v-neck so that those tantalizing glimpses no doubt smoothed her way in any conversation with the opposite sex.

Her jeans were well-worn but her shoes were black boots with heels that were expensive and probably recently purchased. She had the look of a woman who was outside frequently - summer kissed and golden - but she wasn’t rough around the edges. Smooth, polished, sophisticated. He was getting two different vibes from her: both well-bred New York money with a promising career in the law or medicine, and also a former street rat who had been starved for opportunity.

One led to the lifestyles of the rich and famous, the other led to crime. Or.

Police work.

Ah, that was it. She was a cop. A fresh cop, because she didn’t quite know how to hold herself when she wasn’t carrying heat, and because she had made an effort with her civvies. Hair, make-up, lip gloss so that those pale, pink lips shone. She didn’t smile; she didn’t look like she had many smiles left in her today. But her eyes were alert.

They caught his and held. He studied her. She studied him, unflinchingly, assessing, and then she must have seen the army on him, because she forgot him and looked away.

He somehow didn’t want her dismissing him so easily.

He watched her because she had dismissed him, and she didn’t even bother trying to lower her voice or keep it private; she spoke at a normal volume, designed to wash away in the white noise of the bar.

But Richard heard. He always did.

“I’m sure you know him,” the woman resumed. “I know you know him, Trout. He talks about you. So please, when he comes in-”

“I’m not refusing him,” the bartender said. (His name was Trout? How awful. Score one for living under the name of a legend.) “If he comes in here and wants a drink, I’m serving him. No right telling a man he can’t drown his sorrows.”

“Don’t be a cliche,” she muttered. “All I’m saying is that you call me. When it’s bad. Call me and not the taxi service, not the guys patrolling this block, not his asshole friend, George.”

“George is-”

“I’m telling you - I’m not asking you,” she cut in. “You call me. I don’t want my father in the tank again.”

The tank. She was a cop; she used cop lingo and she knew how to get around the guys on patrol. Richard put his elbows on the table and lifted his drink, swirled it around and around, studying her instead of the Scotch.

She was amber on ice herself.

And much more interesting, especially since he seemed unable to get drunk.

“Fine, fine, fine,” the bartender said, throwing up a hand to ward her off. He waved the piece of paper in front of her face and then turned around, tacking it to the corkboard just behind his head. “I’ve got your number, sweetheart.”

He saw her face ripple with it, that instinctive fuck you for the casual tossed-off endearment. But she swallowed it down and thanked the bartender, backed away from the wood. As she did, she shot him a hot, frustrated look, as if he were allowed to see it even if the bartender couldn’t. As if Richard were safe.

He didn’t want to be safe. But he did want… something.

She turned and left the bar, her pony tail stiff and not swinging an inch, but her hips moving probably in spite of herself, giving him a glimpse of how good it could be.

She slid her sunglasses down on her head and moved up the sidewalk and out of sight.

He sat there for five seconds, the longest he’d ever been indecisive, and then he jerked to his feet and strode towards the bar. Trout gave him a bleary what the hell do you want kind of glance and Richard pushed right past him and out with one long look at that board.

He’d memorized her name, her number, and her address.

Kate.

—–

[oftorchwood-blog]

@onlyxsurvivor [X]

“You’re a few years too late, I’m sad to say.”

Lukas adjusted his side-strap, hoisting the bag closer to his hip.

“I would’ve fallen over my feet to see you... maybe three, four years ago. But I’ve moved on. I don’t really think I could go back.”

[oftorchwood-blog]

@affordedupgrade [X]

“Well I think that’s relative to the situation, don’t you?                    All depends on one’s perspective.”

[oftorchwood-blog]

tag dump ☕ verses edition