urween

[urween]

Skittish | Bucky Barnes x ftm!reader

notes : je préfère le spécifier, la temporalité n’est pas exactement respectée. Disons que tout cela se déroule juste après Captain America : The Winter Soldier.

résumé : Après une longue bataille et surtout de dures recherches, les Avengers ont fini par retrouver la trace du Soldat de l’Hiver. Pour maintenir la sécurité de tous, ils le gardent en sécurité dans leur QG. En semi-liberté mais surtout dans un état second, Bucky Barnes attire l’attention du jeune garçon chargé de s’occuper de lui durant son séjour ici.

⚠︎ warnings : mentions de lourds traumatismes liés à la guerre et aux projets Hydra, une forme de dépressif!Bucky, violence, armes, incompréhension de la transidentité sans transphobie, mentions de pensées suicidaires.

english version here

- Description à la deuxième personne

- 5 605 mots

Tu étais le petit protégé du groupe, il l’avait vite remarqué. Même si Natasha n’avait elle non plus pas de supers pouvoirs ou de combinaison robotique, elle faisait partie de l’équipe. Elle et Clint étaient un peu les supers humains de la bande, avec des capacités surhumaines mais rien qui ne dépasse la foudre de Thor ou les muscles de Hulk. Puis, il y avait toi, un petit humain assez normal et sans spécificités particulières. Une grande intelligence, une extrême gentillesse et un sourire adorable. Mais pas de maîtrise des arts martiaux. Tu connaissais les bases des combats, Nat t’avait appris le principal. Tu avais fini par comprendre les formules chimiques extravagantes de Bruce, et tu comprenais le plus important de ce que disait Tony dans ses phases de nerd intenses. Mais encore une fois, tu n’avais rien de spécial, et ça interrogeait Bucky. Pourquoi un humain basique était ici ? Qu’est ce que tu faisais au milieu des Avengers ? Il avait beau avoir raté quelques années décisives d’un point de vue social, il ne comprenait pas.

Lorsqu’il marchait à travers le bâtiment, il tombait sur des scènes qu’il ne savait pas interpréter. Toi assistant Tony Stark et Jarvis, toi riant avec Bruce Banner, toi aidant Natasha Romanoff à s’entraîner, toi portant le bouclier de Steve Rogers jusqu’à lui, toi triant les flèches de Clint Barton, toi refaisant les tresses de Thor.

Qu’est ce que tu faisais là ?

Tu t’étais gaiement présenté à lui. Un sourire amical aux lèvres tu avais énoncé ton nom, prénom et tes pronoms – il n’avait pas vraiment compris ce dernier point –. On t’avait sûrement mis au courant de sa situation, ne te vexe pas il lui faudra un peu de temps avait-on dû te murmurer. Il ne t’avait pas répondu, et tu n’avais pas semblé vexé. Tu étais alors reparti, et il était resté perplexe. Si tu savais déjà tout de lui, pourquoi venir se présenter ? Tu avais dû lire ses dossiers, vous aviez tous dû lire ses dossiers. Steve avait dû s'éclipser pour prendre l’air, Natasha tout inspecter en détails, Bruce marmonner des “quelle horreur”. Tu avais dû lire ses dossiers. Voir sa vie exposée sur une grande table, des mains étrangères parcourant les contre rendus médicaux. Tu avais dû lire avec angoisse la liste interminable des victimes qu’il avait tuées lors de ses missions, observer les modifications qu’on lui avait fait, les traitements infligés, peines endurées. Tu avais vu tout ça. Pourquoi venir le voir ?

« Disons que je n’aime pas vraiment que tu traînes autour de ce type, déclarait depuis plusieurs minutes la voix de Tony, Jarvis copie moi ce plan et fais en une reconstitution 3D avec gares, aéroports et tout le bazard »

Les hologrammes bougèrent devant tes yeux, mais tu n’y prêtais plus attention depuis le temps. À l’époque, la première fois que tu as vu ce monde virtuel se modéliser dans le bureau de Tony tu étais comme un gamin. Des étoiles dans les yeux, tu posais milles questions à la seconde, faisant sourire le créateur de ce programme. Mais à présent tu savais toi même comment fonctionnait la plus grosse partie du système “Jarvis”, et tu n'étais plus si impressionné, ou du moins tu ne l'étais pas à chaque geste de Stark.

« Je vois pas ce qui te dérange, répondis-tu en balançant innocemment tes jambes dans le vide »

Tony se retourna avec sa gestuelle toujours aussi dramatique, faisant un vague mouvement de la main il essaya de te faire comprendre les choses sans avoir à parler. Malheureusement pour lui la télékinésie ne faisait pas partie de tes capacités.

« Très bien, s’avoua-t-il vaincu, pour commencer son bras robotique sophistiqué qui pourrait te broyer avant que tu ne puisses crier, mima-t-il avec désintéressement, puis lui-même au global, tu l’as regardé ? Instable et complètement perché »

Un sourire non camouflé dessina une courbe à travers tes lèvres.

« On parle toujours de Bucky Barnes ? T'amusas-tu, parce que j’ai plutôt l’impression que tu te regardes dans un miroir »

Tu jetas un petit coup d’œil vers Jarvis, qui finissait la demande de ton ami. Puis, ton attention partit de nouveau sur le milliardaire visiblement désespéré d'avoir cette discussion avec toi – tu finissais par avoir l’habitude, une démonstration d’amour de sa part –.

« Je préfère te couper tout de suite, continua ta voix, je t’interdis de me sortir les traditionnelles excuses dans le genre il est dangereux ou armé ou c'est un meurtrier. Tu descendis de la table où tu étais assis et montras avec des grands gestes la pièce, regarde autour de toi Tony, que des armes ou futures armes. Tu te rapprochas de lui et pointa son front du doigt, tu as la plus grande arme que l’humanité n’ait jamais connue dans cette boîte crânienne. Natasha et Clint sont des tueurs professionnels, Steve un soldat traumatisé qui se voile la face, Thor un alien avec des pouvoirs surnaturels et Bruce un scientifique hanté par un alter-ego destructeur. Tu émis une pause pour admirer l’expression faciale toujours aussi indéchiffrable de l’homme en face, vous êtes tous des meurtriers et des dangers pour l’Homme, la seule différence entre vous et Barnes est que vous avez choisi de livrer vos talents à une cause, et que lui n’a pas eu le choix »

Tony resta durant quelques longues secondes de marbre, un tourbillon sûrement en train de faire vibrer ses neurones. Puis, il haussa les épaules et inclina rapidement la tête en signe de défaite.

« Tu as raison, déclara-t-il, j’ai plus d’arguments et les tiens sont en béton, il se retourna et repartit vers Jarvis, bien joué petit »

Il y a encore un an tu aurais été perplexe face à cette réaction, mais le temps t’avait appris qu’il fallait prendre Tony Stark avait des pincettes et l'observer comme on le ferait avec un champignon étranger. Tout ce que tu pouvais retenir de cette interaction était que tu étais fatigué, que tu avais gagné contre le grand mégalo Iron Man et surtout qu’il fallait que tu parles de nouveau à Barnes.

Personne n’avait vraiment été d’accord avec Steve sur l’idée de ramener un mercenaire d’Hydra au QG des Avengers. C’est l’équivalent de lui servir sur un plateau en argent nos secrets, avait à raison dit Clint. Tu avais avec surprise vu Nat prendre la défense de Barnes, à tes côtés et ceux de Steve – bien entendu –. Puis il y avait Bruce qui ne savait pas livrer un jugement distinct, puis Tony et Clint qui étaient contre. Thor étant parti tu ne savais où dans l’espace, les votes avaient donc été clos sur un majorité de pour.

Tu avais aidé Captain a installé une chambre un minimum habitable dans une cellule de protection, un peu comme celle qui avait abrité Loki. Tandis que le grand blond portait le lit dépliable, tu t’étais occupé d’un sac de vêtements – approximativement à la taille de Barnes – et d’un autre avec de l’eau et des sucreries, cette idée venait d’ailleurs de toi. Tu trouvais injuste de qualifier cet homme de simple meurtrier, il avait été manipulé et contrôlé. Tout en posant les barres céréales sur une petite table en fer, tu avais essayé de ne pas penser au chaos qui devait au même moment se jouer dans la tête du Soldat d’hiver. Il devait être tout aussi traumatisé que ses victimes, peut-être même plus. Puis se retrouver dans un environnement aussi particulier du jour au lendemain devait être perturbant. Alors une barre en chocolat et un soda ne pouvaient pas lui faire de mal.

Merci, t’avais murmuré Steve, de comprendre. Tu lui avais rendu un sourire attendrissant, retenant l’envie de lui demander comment il se sentait. Il venait de retrouver son meilleur ami, qui était censé avoir disparu depuis plusieurs décennies, et en plus de ça cet ami avait subi des traitements inhumains durant la plus grande partie de sa vie à présent. C’était évident qu’il ne se sentait pas bien, qu’il était démuni face à cette situation. Bruce t’avait conseillé de lui laisser du temps, et que s’il avait besoin il finirait par parler à l’un d’entre vous. Tu avais écouté ses conseils, et t’étais davantage concentré sur Barnes à la place.

Tu t’étais d’abord présenté, commençant par un simple rapprochement. Tu avais ensuite fait en sorte de veiller à ses besoins, glissant une nouvelle bouteille d’eau fraîche lorsque la précédente était vide, lui ouvrant sa prison seulement quand la nuit tombait pour qu’il puisse aller se doucher sans croiser un Tony méprisant ou un Steve déprimé. À ce propos, des règles avaient été instaurées pour garantir la sécurité de tous. Si Bucky quittait sa cellule s’était toujours en compagnie de l’un de vous – vous étiez d’ailleurs les seuls à avoir les pass –, s’il demandait quelque chose – ce qu’il ne faisait jamais – l’objet devait passer plusieurs portails de contrôle avant de lui être remis, et enfin peu importe où il allait, toilettes ou douches, quelqu’un devait le surveiller dans la limite de l’intimité. Bruce avait proposé de fonctionner à tour de rôle, mais au vu des visages des autres tu t’étais porté volontaire pour assurer la plus grande partie de ses sorties. Natasha devait te remplacer lorsque tu n’étais pas disponible, puis Tony si aucun de vous deux n'était présent. Tu avais ainsi éviter les conflits mais aussi et surtout que Steve ne doive se rendre là-bas.

Tu ne le connaissais pas, Bucky, ayant seulement vu les vidéos présentes dans son dossier, et pourtant à chaque fois que tu allais lui rendre visite ton estomac se nouait. Il n’était pas question de peur, puisque son bras robotique avait été censuré au maximum grâce à un gadget de Stark, lui laissant seulement la liberté de l'utiliser comme un membre normal, sans super-force ou arme intégrée. Il reste un super soldat, avait alerté Bruce, ses facultés physiques sont supérieures à celles de Nat et il a un sérum semblable à celui de Steve dans les veines. Mais tu n’avais pas peur. Malheureusement une chèvre aurait davantage fait frissonner que Barnes lorsque tu allais le voir. Il était comme toujours sur pause. Ne parlait jamais, bougeant à peine son regard du sol. Tu avais été malgré tout rassuré de voir qu’il mangeait le minimum syndical, et il avait même un jour goûter une barre chocolatée. Mais mis à part ces détails, c’était comme si tu voyais le même robot dans la même position, jour après jour. Ton estomac se nouait pour ces raisons, parce que lorsque tu lui apportais des draps propres il n’avait rien de l’homme que tu avais vu en vidéo. La haine qui hantait ses yeux avait disparu, il ne restait qu’un vide sans nom, et tu n’avais jamais rien vu d’aussi triste. Tu n’avais pas l’impression d’avoir un soldat d’Hydra d’une centaine d’années en face de toi, mais un orphelin brisé.

Tu passais beaucoup de temps à relire son dossier, ses rapports, ses examens. Tu essayais de le comprendre à travers ces papiers. Steve était perdu, il ne voyait plus Buck dans ces yeux, et toi tu essayais de comprendre ce qu’il était devenu, Buck. D’après sa fiche personnelle, il avait été retrouvé à l’âge de vingt-six ans avant de subir les expérimentations d’Hydra. Une photo de lui, en 1943, était collée sur le papier. Un sourire timide aux lèvres, son couvre-chef d’infanterie légèrement penché sur sa tête et son uniforme sans un pli trônant fièrement sur son torse. Une larme avait gravement dévalée ta joue, finissant son chemin sur une écriture manuscrite russe : Зимний Солдат, autrement dit Soldat de l’hiver. Bruce avait effectué une tradition complète de tous les documents, par la suite corrigée par Natasha. Peut-être que relire ces textes n'était pas bon pour toi, mais tu en avais besoin. Tu étais le seul ici à t’intéresser à Barnes. Steve culpabilisait à tel point qu’il faisait une sorte de déni, Nat ne faisait qu’étudier froidement le dossier du soldat et ne parlons même pas des autres. Bucky avait besoin de temps, de compréhension et de douceur pour au moins ne pas aggraver ses séquelles. Tu devais très certainement faire des erreurs, n’étant pas psychologue de profession, mais tu faisais déjà mieux que tes camarades et qu’Hydra.

« Douce soirée pas vrai ? Résonna dans un silence de plomb ta voix »

Le soleil s’était couché depuis plus de trois heures, la plupart des Avengers étaient dans leur chambre ou partis dehors, ce qui signifiait que c’était le moment idéal pour que Barnes puisse prendre une douche. Tu avais rassemblé tes forces et t’étais rendu dans la cellule du soldat. Lorsque tu étais passé, il y a de ça environ deux heures, il n’avait pas voulu manger son repas alors tu l’avais repris et fait chauffer de nouveau pour plus tard. Le plat chaud donc d’une main, tu refermas avec précaution la porte en verre blindé derrière toi. Comme tu t’y attendais, Barnes n’avait presque pas bougé depuis ta dernière visite. Toujours assis en tailleur dans son lit, il semblait vaguement remarqué ta présence.

« Je sais que tu ne voulais pas manger tout à l’heure, commenças-tu en déposant le repas à côté de lui, mais je me suis dit qu’entre temps l’appétit t’était peut-être revenu »

Tu avais parfois le droit en guise de réponse à un petit “hum” rauque provenant du fond de sa gorge, mais tu te demandais si c’était volontaire tant sa gestuelle ne collait pas avec ce léger signe de vie. Malheureusement ce soir ne faisait pas partie de ce “parfois”. Pas de bruit, à peine un souffle. Mais tu ne te décourageas pas.

Les premières fois que tu étais venu lui parler, son manque complet de réaction t’avait interrogé sur sa possible compréhension de ta langue. Pourtant tu avais lu qu’il lisait et parlait au minimum deux langues, dont la tienne. Si ça se trouve tu comprends pas ce que je te raconte, avais-tu marmonné tout en ramassant ses vêtements usagés. Ta plus grosse interaction avec lui s’était alors produite lorsqu’il t’avait regardé droit dans les yeux et avait prononcé d’une voix agréablement grave : Je comprends.

« Mis à part ça tu peu- »

Tu fus surpris de le voir se lever de lui-même, se dirigeant studieusement vers la porte de sortie en attendant que tu l’ouvres. C’était d’habitude toi qui allait en premier à la sortie, attendant deux ou trois secondes qu’il se lève et te rejoigne. Mais c’était une bonne surprise, ça voulait peut-être dire que son état s’améliorait.

Ton pass électromagnétique collé au tableau de bord, un petit bip retentit avant que tu ne pousses la lourde porte et fasse passer en premier Barnes. Ces questions de sécurité t’étaient obligatoires pour approcher le Soldat de l’Hiver. Le faire toujours marcher devant toi, rendre ton pass inaccessible – caché dans ta manche la plupart du temps comme Bruce te l'avait conseillé –, une arme blanche camouflée contre ta cheville en cas de problème, et tu n’étais pas censé lui parler de toi ou de l’équipe. Clint avait voulu ajouter une règle supplémentaire : ne pas lui adresser la parole sauf en cas de nécessité, pour prévenir tout risque de manipulation. Est-ce que tu l’as bien regardé ? T’étais-tu imposé dans la discussion, il n’a émis aucune opposition durant tout le processus pour le ramener ici, et puis souviens-toi de ses rapports de missions, il n’était pas un espion mais un tueur de masse, il était programmé pour parler le moins possible à ses victimes. Tony était tombé d’accord avec toi sur le sujet, rappelant le cas de Loki – encore une fois – qui était bien différent de Barnes.

Stupides règles, pensas-tu en regardant la silhouette de l’homme en face de toi avancer dans le long couloir. Si les autres le voyaient plus de cinq minutes, ils se rendraient compte qu’il ne s’agissait plus que d’une victime dans cette cellule. Ils te trouvaient tous un peu naïf et ils t’appréciaient pour ça, un éclat d’espoir au beau milieu du chaos. Pourtant tu étais de loin celui avec la meilleure perception des autres. Chaque méchant avait des arguments, bon ou mauvais tu les écoutais tous. Tu raisonnais l’équipe, les faisant sortir de leur bulle de super-héros pour leur montrer la possibilité d’un peu de légèreté.

Tu ne doutais pas des capacités du soldat Barnes, tu avais encore moins envie de te retrouver en face à face avec lui qu’avec Nat – et c’était déjà beaucoup –. Tu regardais quelquefois de nouveau les vidéos de surveillance prises le jour où Natasha et Steve l’ont combattu pour la première fois. Il était hypnotisant, dans la manière dont tous ses mouvements semblaient s’assembler avec tant de fluidité et de rapidité, la façon avec laquelle son corps réfléchissait pour lui et agissait en conséquence. Tu avais, en comparaison, la tête qui tournait après avoir fait une roulade, alors voir tout ça était stupéfiant. Bien sûr il y avait derrière ces dons d'atroces explications, tout comme pour la plupart des personnes en capacité de reproduire tout cela, mais tu ne pouvais tout de même pas t’empêcher d’analyser ces vidéos. Et puis, là dans ce couloir, tu regardais le dos de Barnes, son bras étincelant, l’étoile rouge y trônant, et tu te demandais ce qui se passait dans son esprit. Ce qu’il savait faire était inhumain, le voir en image renforçait ce sentiment. Puis on devait prendre conscience qu’il s’agissait d’un être humain, qui un jour avait été comme toi. Son mode de fonctionnement devait avoir été totalement bouleversé, déformé et détruit. On avait dû réduire en miettes ce qui avait été pour construire ce qui était à présent, c’était comme ça que ça fonctionnait. Pour s’adapter à un nouvel environnement on nous conseillait toujours d’oublier tout ce que l’on pensait savoir, tous les films le disaient. De la même manière que des platistes étaient persuadés que la Terre est plate, Barnes ne voyait plus le monde comme tu le faisais.

Comme les règles le disaient, tu rangeas discrètement ton pass dans une poche de pantalon tandis que vous arriviez à la salle de bain. De simples verrous servaient de sécurité, et c’était amplement suffisant. Personne à part toi n’avait jamais évoqué l’hypothèse que Bucky tente de mettre fin à ses jours. S’il le faisait, la salle d’eau était le meilleur endroit, c’est pourquoi un simple verrou faisait largement l’affaire pour que toi ou quelqu’un d’autre puisse défoncer la porte en cas de nécessité. Mais tu évitais de trop penser à cette issue, car à travers le peu d'interactions que tu avais eu avec lui et les réflexions que tu entretenais à son sujet, tu t’étais attaché à sa personne.

Tu ouvris le rideau de douche, sous le regard intrigué de Barnes. Chaque Avengers avait une salle d’eau avec le strict minimum dans leur chambre, mais il y avait aussi trois salles de bain plus grandes au deuxième étage. C’était les pièces pour se nettoyer en urgence lorsque l’on rentrait couvert de sang, ou Bruce s’y rendait en cas d’alerte verte par exemple. Elles étaient plus accessibles que les chambres, ce qui expliquait cette fonction. Mais ce qui rendait Bucky curieux n’était pas ça. Tu lui donnais toujours la salle numéro deux, avec un douche basique, un lavabo et des toilettes. Hors là vous vous trouviez dans la numéro une, avec une baignoire. Il détailla rapidement la pièce, légèrement plus grande et mis à part la baignoire il n’y avait rien qui différenciait de la 2. Tu avais comme toujours préalablement enlevé tous les objets sujets à être utilisés en tant qu’arme. La pile de deux serviettes propres surplombée du savon et du shampoing durs – pour éviter les risques d’ingurgitation ou d’attaque oculaire trop agressive – et le gant de toilette, étaient toujours soigneusement posés sur le rebord du lavabo. Alors pourquoi une baignoire ?

Comme si tu lisais dans ses pensées, tu te retournas d'un mouvement fluide. Tu pris le temps d’apprécier le regard expressif de Barnes – c’était tellement rare – avant de répondre à ses interrogations.

« J’ai supposé que ça devait faire des années que tu n’avais pas pris de réel bain, tu essayas d’éviter le sujet Hydra, alors je me suis dit que ça pouvait être une bonne idée ? »

Un bon nombre d’émotions passa dans le bleu de ses yeux, ne faisant qu’accentuer ton appréhension face à sa réaction. Personne n’avait dû être ne serait-ce que sympathique avec lui depuis un long moment, ce qui voulait dire qu’il allait prendre du temps avant de proprement réagir. Mais comme tu l’avais imaginé, son regard parcourut à une vitesse folle la baignoire derrière toi à la recherche d’un piège. Je ne suis pas comme eux, pensas-tu dans un pincement de cœur.

« Je sais ce que tu dois te dire, mais il n’y a pas de piège Bucky, son nom résonna plus que tu ne l’aurais imaginé, ça va être long mais crois-moi je n’essaie pas de te tuer ou de te faire du mal »

Un lourd doute sembla peser, et tu ne pus que comprendre. Ce genre de phrases, il avait dû en entendre beaucoup trop avant de finir électrocuté ou pire. Pour aider son processus, tu t’écartas et le laissa pleinement observer le lieu. Ses yeux bloquèrent plus longtemps que prévu sur le pommeau de douche, et encore une fois, tu eus des nausées en imaginant les traumatismes qui devaient se rejouer dans sa tête. En cet instant, tu repensas à la première fois que tu l’avais conduit dans une salle de bain. Il avait refusé de rentrer dans la douche, la mâchoire serrée au point que ses dents devaient le faire souffrir, il t’avait fixé avec un cocktail d’émotions indéchiffrables dans les yeux. Tu avais fini par te souvenir des traitements réservés aux Juifs dans les douches durant la Seconde Guerre Mondiale, et tu t’étais tout de suite excusé. Pardon j’aurais dû y penser, avais-tu dit avec culpabilité, si tu veux tu peux juste te laver avec le gant et l’eau du robinet, pas besoin du pommeau de douche aujourd’hui si tu n’as pas confiance. Et la situation semblait se reproduire ce soir, il avait peur que vous vouliez vous débarrasser de lui durant sa douche, ou bain en l'occurrence. Les techniques ont malheureusement évolué depuis 39-45, d’autant plus qu’il se trouvait dans le QG du plus grand ingénieur des États-Unis, ce qui voulait dire que vous auriez pû trouver bien des méthodes pour le tuer pendant sa toilette. Mais il fallait que tu trouves un moyen de le rassurer, parce que tu n’avais pas l’intention de l’exécuter en douce, et que tu voulais être sincèrement gentil.

« Peut-être que si ça te rassure je peux-, tu hésitas avant de te dire que c’était pour la bonne cause, je peux rester avec toi ? Il y a un rideau de toute façon »

Face à son expression qui tanguait de la surprise au doute, tu te sentis obligé de justifier.

« S’il y a du gaz ou une explosion, je meurs avec toi ce qui serait pas très apprécié de l’équipe, tu émis une petite pause pour jauger sa réaction, et s’il y a quoique ce soit d’autre de ménaçant tu pourras toi-même me tuer puisque je serais juste à côté. Tu brandis ensuite la clé de la pièce entre tes deux doigts, en plus de ça je nous enferme et laisse la clé sur le rebord de la baignoire, pour ne pas m’enfuir et t’enfermer derrière moi »

Tu eus la ferme impression qu’à une autre époque, Barnes aurait souri, peut-être même ri. Puis, à ta grande surprise, tu vis un semblant d’amusement dans ses yeux. Un voile presque invisible qui ne dura qu’une seconde, juste le temps pour qu’une lointaine version de lui ne prenne le dessus sur le Soldat d’Hiver. Tu ne pus empêcher ton sourire, attendant malgré tout une réaction plus concrète avant de réagir en retour.

Bucky essaya de sortir une émotion dominante du brouhaha qui se jouait dans son esprit. Tu étais définitivement différent, et il commençait à comprendre pourquoi tu avais ta place au beau milieu d’une bande de surhumains. Et même si quelqu’un qui parlait comme toi avait le profil parfait pour manipuler à un haut niveau les personnes, il se risqua à tenter sa chance.

« Je peux avoir vingt secondes seul pour me déshabiller »

Le frisson qui électrocuta tout ton corps ne passa sûrement pas inaperçu. Sa voix, son ton, donnèrent une tournure plus directrice qu’interrogative à sa question, et tu ne fis qu’hocher légèrement la tête. À ton tour, tu devins aussi silencieux que lui, trop perturbé par l’accès de réactions de sa part en si peu de temps. Tu quittas la salle de bain, poussa la porte derrière toi sans la fermer, car malgré ton choc, ton inconscient valorisa ta sécurité.

Pendant que tu attendais un quelconque signal t’autorisant à entrer dans la pièce, tu divaguas sur de nouvelles réflexions. Barnes n’avait parlé à personne d’après ce qu’on t’avait raconté. Les caméras avaient enregistré que durant le combat pour le neutraliser il avait parlé, quelques hommes d’Hydra étaient avec lui alors tu avais supposé qu’il leur donnait des ordres en russe. Natasha avait été bien trop occupée à essayer de ne pas mourir pour prêter attention à ce qu’il avait dit, mais avec du recul, tu avais envie de savoir ce qui était sorti de sa bouche ce jour-là. Tony aimait dire que le russe était une des langues les moins accueillantes au monde, mais étrangement l’entendre de Bucky te donnait envie. Peut-être que c’était sa voix comme grondante, peut-être parce que le russe avait été pendant des années sa langue “natale”.

Outre le russe, il parlait d’autres langues d’après les rapports, mais encore une fois il n’avait pas fait valoir ses talents à n’importe qui à part toi. En même temps, je suis presque le seul qu’il voit depuis son arrivée, pensas-tu. Mais il avait malgré tout eu l’occasion lorsque Bruce était venu avec toi lui rendre visite pour vérifier un branchement du tableau de bord. Il aurait aussi pu le faire depuis sa cellule, puisqu’elle était totalement transparente et qu’il pouvait voir le couloir où beaucoup de personnes passaient, il aurait pu parler. Mais il ne l’avait pas fait, et sans savoir pourquoi tu avais le sentiment qu’il ne voulait parler qu’avec toi.

Un bruit d’eau te fit presque sursauter. Tu murmuras un juron – espérant que Bucky n’ait pas entendu – avant de doucement te retourner vers la porte.

« Je peux ? Préfèras-tu demander pour éviter un drame »

Le temps qu’il réponde, tu laissas encore une fois ton esprit s'égarer. Et s’il était juste nu au milieu de la pièce ? Hydra l’avait conditionné pour qu’il perde tout sens de propriété, pour que même son corps ne lui appartienne plus, ce qu’il voulait dire que la nudité n’était plus un tabou et qu’au contraire – vu les horreurs que ces gens avaient fait – ils auraient très bien pu le forcer à rester nu pour l’humilier davantage.

« Oui, résonna vaguement sa voix »

Te préparant au pire, tu pris une grande inspiration et garda tes yeux bien haut pour éviter tout contact visuel au mauvais endroit. Mais en ouvrant la porte tu fus soulagé de voir le rideau tiré de moitié et un Bucky déjà dans l’eau. Un sentiment, que sur le moment tu comparas à celui d’un parent fier de son enfant, réchauffa ton coeur. Ce n’était peut-être pas grand-chose aux yeux du monde, mais toi tu imaginais les impressions de l’homme lorsqu’il plongea un corps devenu presque inconnu dans une eau chaude préparée pour lui, et lui seul. Confort, surprise, soulagement. Il devait se passer beaucoup de choses dans la tête du Soldat de l’Hiver.

Tu refermas la porte derrière toi, verrouillant la sortie comme prévu. Mais, tandis que tu te rapprochais afin de déposer la clé près de lui, une deuxième vague de chaleur traversa ton corps en te rendant compte de quelque chose. Il avait seulement tiré le rideau de moitié, cachant ainsi le bas de son corps mais te laissant tout le plaisir de voir à partir de son torse. Encore une fois, en d’autres mesures tu n’aurais pas trouvé la situation émouvante, mais plutôt cocasse. Sauf qu’il s’agit du Soldat de l’Hiver, et que toute sa communication se faisait sans la voix. Il avait laissé ses bras et son visage visibles pour qu’à ton tour, tu vois qu’il n’était pas une menace. De la même manière que tu avais trouvé une solution à son angoisse, il faisait un pas vers toi en te montrant que tu n’avais pas de raison de le craindre en ce moment.

« Merci, murmuras-tu »

Comme si tu avais peur de briser le moment, tu t’installas sans un bruit. Il n’y avait pas de chaise ici, mais le sol te convenait. Tu croisas tes jambes en tailleur tout en reposant ton dos contre la petite extension de mur collée à la baignoire. De cette façon, tu restais assez proche de lui tout en respectant une distance nécessaire pour éviter de voir le reste de son corps dénudé.

Tu oublias de vérifier l’heure, ne comptant plus les minutes d’observation que l’homme en face te laissait avant de se poser des questions.

Bucky resta une heure entière dans l’eau avant qu’elle ne commence à refroidir. Tu passas tout ton temps à détailler son visage détendu, ses yeux fermés comme s’il allait d’une seconde à l’autre s’endormir. Puis lorsqu’il rouvrit ses paupières, il te regarda à son tour quelques secondes, avant de te demander s’il pouvait sortir du bain. À sa phrase, la réalité te percuta de nouveau et tu eus une envie folle de lui dire qu’il était libre, qu’il n’avait plus d’ordres à recevoir. Tu eus envie de lui faire voir le monde, de lui faire goûter une glace à la vanille, de lui faire sentir l’odeur de l’encens dans les églises, du gras des triples burgers. Tu eus le besoin de le voir acheter avec son propre argent, l’aider à se relever de ses premières chutes. Lorsqu’il t’avait regardé avec ses grands yeux bleus, attendant ton autorisation pour sortir d’un bain, tu eus envie de lui demander pardon, au nom de l’humanité. De lui promettre que personne ne viendrait le frapper, promettre à ce petit garçon que rien ne lui arriverait, qu’il pourra vivre une vie sereine et heureuse auprès de ses amis et de sa famille. Mais en regardant la peau vive de son épaule gauche, en regardant l’arme qui était implantée dans son corps, tu sentis ton ventre se retourner. Personne n’avait été là pour protéger cet enfant de Brooklyn, aucune des personnes lui ayant fait ça n’a ne serait-ce qu’eu pitié de cet homme. Et aujourd’hui il dormait dans une cellule capable de résister à la force de Hulk.

« Tu peux sortir du bain, se brisa ta voix »

Il obéit, faisant rouler les muscles surhumains de son corps pour se redresser. Tu ne bougeas presque pas, étant à ton tour trop loin dans tes pensées pour avoir l’idée de détourner ton regard de lui. Un nouveau coup fut porté à ton cœur en te rendant compte que oui, il n’avait plus de pudeur. Deux gouttes d’eau tombèrent contre ton mollet tandis qu’il attrapa la plus grande serviette de essuya sans une émotion sa peau. Le bruit rêche du tissu te fit frissonner, et alors doucement tu te levas. Il était plus grand que toi, mais ni ça ni son bras robotique ne t’empêchèrent d’attraper sa serviette humide. Son corps ne parvint pas à réagir lorsque tu passas le tissu blanc contre son bras, son visage était figé dans une expression de totalement incompréhension, face à la douceur avec laquelle la serviette entrait en contact avec sa peau.

Tu finis ta tâche, comme s’il ne s’agissait que d’un petit chiot à essuyer. Puis, tu te reculas de trois pas et planta tes yeux dans les siens. Tu lui tendis des vêtements propres, avant de reprendre la clé et de partir vers la porte.

« J’ai bien besoin d’un chocolat chaud, déclara ta voix encore cassée de larmes, et j’aimerais beaucoup le partager avec toi, Bucky »

Ta main quelque peu tremblante essuya l’humidité de tes joues, te retournant ensuite progressivement vers le soldat après avoir déverrouillé la sortie. Il s’était déjà habillé, le jogging noir tombant bas sur ses hanches. Bucky détailla ton visage, et ses sourcils se rejoingèrent dans une mine mi-confuse mi-triste. Il se rapprocha assez de toi pour que tu sentes la chaleur qu’il dégageait.

« Pas de cannelle, énonça-t-il, je crois que je n’aime pas ça »

Tu lâchas un petit rire nerveux, te disant qu’il n’y avait que toi pour te retrouver dans ces situations.

« Pas de cannelle »

Il y avait un début à tout, et lorsque tu vis – plus tard dans la soirée – de la chantilly sur les lèvres du Soldat de l’Hiver, tu pensas qu’après tout, l’enfant n’avait pas pu être sauvé mais que tu pouvais ramener l’homme à la vie.

images : Pinterest

bannières : @/strangergraphics, @/pommecita et @/thecutestgrotto

[urween]

Precious | Loki x ftm!reader | english version

summary : Loki became attached to a human during his travels on Earth, pushing him to bring him back with him to Asgard. Unfortunately the laws do not accept Men on this territory, his little protégé will then become his precious secret.

notes : reader operated on the chest

⚠︎ warnings : very vanilla and soft smut, depressive tendencies, scars, mentions of dysphoria

special thanks and credits to @sparrow-the-tired-lesbian who nicely helped me with this story's translation because it was originally written in french, my native language.

french version here

-2d person description

-2 944 words

A place like Asgard was straight out of the most beautiful storybooks you had ever seen. Spacious, welcoming, and harmonious. Your fifteen square meter apartment was far behind you, lost in a life that no longer seemed to belong to you. Everything was different now, better and lush. And yet, there was a time when feeding yourself was the highest step in your life. A time when the sun no longer attracted you and the night no longer frightened you, when you would have been ready to willingly impale yourself on the first knife brandished. A time when life was nothing but a heavy task to bear.

But one day, a multi-colored flash pierced the sky a few streets from your home. The blinding light had lit up an entire neighborhood with the black night, and your poor quality sleep had allowed you to see this spectacle. Two men – who you had assumed were in medieval outfits – were heading towards your building. One had broken the window on the floor below yours, with what you thought was a hammer, very heavy and imposing. Then, while the one with the hammer was climbing the building, the other man waited patiently downstairs. His outfit had seemed more sober to you, with fewer extravagant – and ridiculous shapes – one could have thought of a uniform from a faraway country, nothing that provokes laughter but something that remains surprising nonetheless. As a precaution, you had left your lights off so that they would not see you through the window, and thanks to the few working street lamps on the street opposite you managed to detail their actions to a minimum. The first one, the one with the hammer, was no longer visible because he had already reached the desired floor and had most certainly entered your neighbor's apartment. A crazy old man, a scientist with delusional ideas. You seldom spoke to him since he never left his house. Selvig was his last name and pretty much all you knew about him. At that moment, you could have called the police but you didn't have a phone, it was too expensive and useless. So you continued to observe the scene hoping – for the sake of morality – that another neighbor had noticed the fact and could contact the authorities.

That day, the man who had stayed downstairs had noticed you but hadn't said anything to his brother. He had seen something in your eyes, something he didn't want to share. A month later he had come back, followed you for several days to learn about your life and find out if you had any ties. As his instinct had predicted, you had nothing and no one, you lived without living. So he had come to see you, in an impeccable black suit he had asked you if you wanted to come with him, and you had accepted. The reasons are still unclear to you today, maybe you were giving yourself one last chance before giving up, even if it meant following a stranger to another planet.

That's how you arrived here, in this fantastic place. Loki had somehow taken you, to a magnificent palace where the royal family lived. You were staying in a secret room hidden in your friend's room. You had a gigantic bed, splendid outfits, and unlimited food.

The only problem in this story was that you weren't supposed to be there. A human being had no place in Asgard, the land of the gods. Loki should never have brought a human back to the palace, should never have formed a bond with him, and above all, should never have fallen in love with you. If Odin found out, you would be sent back to Earth at best, or killed at worst. If the people found out, learned that Prince Loki, the one who was desired by many people, was in a relationship with you. They would call you a sorcerer, a sorcerer, and a danger to sovereignty. A human being had nothing more than an Asgardian could have, if he had managed to befriend one of them, moreover a prince, it was about magic and manipulation. So for these reasons, Loki protected you by keeping you a secret. He had created several traps thanks to his powers to hide the entrance to your room, and you only went out in the middle of the night through hidden passages. He regretted having to hide you like that, like a common pet, he sincerely felt bad about it but it was the only solution. You were too precious to him, too important, he could not risk you finding yourself in danger because of him.

There was nevertheless one person who suspected your presence: Frigga. A mother gains powers far more powerful than a god when her children are born, maternal instinct can work miracles and you have witnessed it. She had noticed the gradual change in her adopted son, that sincere smile, and that beating heart. She had seen him live again before her eyes when no one seemed to pay attention. At first, she had simply thought of a pretty woman, maybe even Tif, and then one day reality hit her hard. Loki's disinterested glances, unconscious steps back, and annoyed sighs no longer go unnoticed by his mother. He paid no attention to women or men, not even the most beautiful. He was always looking at flowers, birds, and water. He smelled the scents of spring and smiled at the autumn leaves. Frigga had realized something simple, and so sweet that Loki himself had surely not realized it. He sought your beauty in Nature. He brought you back the most beautiful bouquets, the colorful feathers fallen from birds' nests, or the crystallized water lilies from the river. He took you with him wherever he went, and made sure to offer you a souvenir of this imaginary journey. Frigga had then understood that no matter the gender of this person, the one who made Loki's heartbeat had to be endowed with a divine soul and a floral beauty. And that was all it took to reassure her.

It was rare that people went to Loki's room, but the few times it happened you heard everything, whether you wanted to or not. Most of the time it was Frigga precisely, she seemed to be the only one allowed to enter this room. But sometimes Tif came, or Thor passed by in a whirlwind. So little by little in a way you got to know them, through the sound of their voices and the noises they brought with them.

"It's extraordinary"

Your voice gradually brought you back to reality, the one where Loki was sitting next to you on the edge of his window. Night had fallen for several hours now, it had been your sign to go out and finally join the young prince.

"They don't know it, but I have the best view in the palace," he replied with a smile.

A wonderful spectacle was playing out in front of you. The sky didn't even seem black anymore, as a rainbow of colors and shades danced across the stars. Loki had explained to you the special nature of Asgard, very different from the solar system you were used to seeing on Earth, but observing it with your own eyes was still just as spectacular. The northern lights in the north seemed ridiculous compared to that.

You still looked up at the sky to grab a few seeds from the pomegranates you had freshly peeled. Loki joined you and took some in turn.

"Hasn't the day been boring?" He asked you, catching your gaze, “I would have liked to be more present"

"No, it's okay, the game you brought me did the trick,” you smiled at him.

For the sake of discretion, you had only lit two candles in the room, each far enough away to offer only a tender light. You managed to catch the green of the eyes of the man in front of you, out of habit and need surely. Everything seemed to fade with him, to fade. All your fears or anxieties became mute for his irises, you had never experienced that before. Maybe it was something common, a little extra gift that the Asgardians possessed, maybe if you looked at Thor the result would be the same. But even if the opportunity presented itself to you, Thor was not Loki, Loki was precious. Even if it was just a sleight of hand, you were ready to let this magic guide the rest of your life. Loki had saved you, he was the only one left for you now.

"I hope these tears are not bad?" The prince's soft voice intervened.

You laughed weakly, shaking your head from left to right with an uncontrollable smile. Loki had become your reason for living, your meaning of life. How could you have missed that?

Your relationship was not defined, nothing seemed to be in these lands. He offered you gifts, you offered him your support. He gave you his thoughts, you gave him back your trust. It was a give and take, natural and healthy. But yet there was something more than just friendship. You needed physical contact with him when before skin-to-skin scared you. You felt the need to show him your scars, to let him kiss them, heal them. You wanted to be free with him, and your body had not become a barrier to that. Your gender was no longer a standard to be checked in his presence, you were almost just a soul with him, no genders and stereotypes. And yet he adored your body, he made you adore him in return. He made you love yourself and therefore, love him. You loved Loki, and he loved you.

"Loki," your trembling voice began.

A hand rested on your cheek, and a reassuring warmth approached you. He was waiting for you.

"I...well, I don't know how to say it, I..."

Again, the green of her eyes appeared before you, and then your little lucidity left you. Her eyes made you feel at home. All the tenderness of the world was concentrated in her irises, and she was only for you.

Your lips met, and at that precise moment, you felt your body light up as if doors had just been opened deep inside you as if it were the right thing to do.

From there, everything seemed to become blurry and confused, because everything was simple and fluid. You found yourself on top of each other in the floating sheets of her bed, wrapped in an impermeable cocoon. You kissed the slightest trace of flesh that you had within reach of your lips, pinching the sensitive places with the tips of your teeth to tear soft noises from your lover. His tunic fell, yours too, your hands intertwined and your breaths mingled. You had never felt so complete.

"Are you sure? We don't have to do this to enjoy it,” your smiling nod answered him fully, “stop me at any time if you need to"

His hand, as light as a feather, rested above your bare side. He didn't get too close, or too far. The perfect dosage was complex to find, and you would have thought you would never have the opportunity to try your luck as a simple movement could make everything collapse. One word too many and you fell back ten times, alone with this unknown body.

"Loki?” A wave of worry passed through the man above you, “thank you”, then went away as quickly as it came.

His fingers found a soft curve on your hip, they clung to it and as his lips met yours again, you felt your body melt under his touch. As if this contact created a combustion, an alchemy. As if his hand was meant to be placed here, on your hip. As if his lips were carved from the same tree as yours.

Out of breath, you cut your kiss with a smile that spoke volumes about its quality. Loki stroked a lock of hair resting a few centimeters from his other hand, he observed you as one observed the stars.

"Splendid," he murmured.

A few minutes passed like this, your four eyes detailing the other. You had never seen his body so closely, it was like having a magic box that you decided to only half-open for fear of making its contents disappear. Each trace, scar, and stain, you devoured with your eyes, hoping to be able to engrave images in your ocular cells.

Then, slowly a dance began, fueled by tender laughter and words. He helped you find a comfortable position, where you felt at ease. He covered some parts of your body as you wished, taking the opportunity to note in his mind the colors that made your skin stand out. You ran your hand through his black hair, giving it back the natural curly and thick shape it had. You had a thought about it, about the fact that he never left his hair natural and that you were the only one to see it like that.

Under a common agreement, Loki began to prepare your body for the next steps. A little shy at first but encouraged by your partner, small sounds left your mouth. You murmured your worries about the noise and alerting someone, to which he replied against your ear: "My magic does not stop at physical forms, no one will hear us, darling, I promise you." Little by little you let your muscles relax, enough to not feel pain or discomfort. Loki asked you once again for your approval before moving on to the next stage. You nodded, with an enthusiasm that made him smile. He brought one of your thighs against your stomach, kissing your ankle, caressing your skin lower, and collecting the sweet lubricating fluid. He brought it to his lips, making you blush even more, then began to penetrate your boiling body. In turn, a moan left him, less modest than yours, and in your opinion as addictive as the hardest of drugs. Your mouth opened unconsciously with a mixture of pleasure, happiness, love, and everything you could find to describe this moment. He did the same, letting out a few garbled words. “So sweet” “perfect”. Your body reacted without you noticing, tightening the hot walls around Loki with each glance you gave him. He was magnificent, breathtaking. His perfectly shaped jaw had been presented to you for far too long, so you decided to taste it. Shy and cautious, you explored this angle with your lips before going down to his neck and collarbones. Several pleasant sighs encouraged you to continue before a moan was torn from your throat as Loki began to make slow movements. You let your head fall back into the cushions, enjoying the moment more than you could have imagined.

Everything seemed to be happening with such gentleness that you forgot for that moment the extraordinary nature of your situation. Hanging on the lips of a magician prince of Asgard, a planet with winged horses and a god of Thunder. You saw yourself again in your younger years, curled up under your duvet, shedding all the tears in your body because of a body shell that did not stick to your inner self. And thinking about that, a new tear rolled down your temple, because that time seemed so far away. Loki wiped it away with an unprecedented smile, he was proud of you.

He whispered encouragement to you, gradually speeding up his movements until he could fully hear your voice. In turn, he felt like his vision was going to blur with tears. You were so beautiful, so confident, so gentle. Just for him, you let all your barriers collapse and it was worth all the most beautiful riches of this galaxy in his eyes.

Your lower abdomen began to contract, expressing a sensation that you had not felt for years. You stammered shyly that you were not going to last very long, to which Loki replied with a slight laugh: "Me neither". He felt physically speaking that indeed your climax was fast approaching, which only encouraged him to accelerate his pelvic movements. His hand, which could not support his weight, found a mark between your thighs so that in small circles his thumb would accompany your orgasm as far as possible. What had to happen happened, and in a weak cry, your body was crossed by spasms. Loki was quick to follow you, feeling that you were contracting around him. His voice resonated a few tones under yours, before being quickly replaced by jerky breathing.

A nervous laugh left your lips at the same time, the pleasant pressure falling at the same time as the man with the dark mane pulled you with him into a warm embrace. Your two bodies covered in a thin layer of sweat slowly resumed a normal heartbeat, and you smiled one last time before the softness of the cushions mixed with the hypnotizing scent of Loki plunged you into a deep sleep.

Outside, the lights were still as beautiful, and yet Loki preferred to spend his last seconds awake watching you.

pictures : Pinterest

dividers : @/saradika-graphics and @/thecutestgrotto

[urween]

Me filtering out kinks I don’t like on AO3. 

[urween]

I love your new aesthetic !

Symbiotic

Eddie Brock x Male reader

Summary: Eddie hadn't heard from you in months, little does he know, you now have your own symbiote problem.

A/N: I feel like I'm not doing my best compared to when I first started, so hopefully getting back into Eddie Brock fics helps.

The alleyway reeked of stale beer and something metallic, the scent clinging to the damp air like a shroud. Rain lashed down, each drop exploding against the grimy pavement, mirroring the frantic hammering of your own heart. Your body, slick with sweat and the icy rain, writhed against the unforgiving concrete. A sob tore from your throat, raw and guttural, as your lungs seized, gasping for air like a drowning man.

Panic clawed at your throat, a cold, icy tendril squeezing the life from you. Your vision swam, the world blurring into an abstract canvas of grey and black. Each breath was a battle, a desperate struggle against an unseen force constricting your chest. It felt as though something alien, something monstrous, was burrowing beneath your skin, twisting and turning within your very core.

A wave of nausea washed over you, and a thick, oily substance bubbled from your mouth, tasting of iron and decay. It slithered back down your throat, leaving an acrid taste that burned like fire. You could feel it, a subtle, insidious movement beneath your skin, a dark pulse throbbing in rhythm with your own terrified heartbeat. It was moving, slithering towards your center, a malevolent presence taking root within you.

Then, a wave of icy numbness washed over you, extinguishing the fire in your veins. Your body went rigid, every muscle seizing.

You jolted upright, clawing at the brick wall, nails digging into the rough surface, leaving bloody crescents. You gasped for air, your lungs burning, your heart pounding like a war drum against your ribs. It felt like a fever dream, a hallucinatory nightmare birthed from the depths of your own psyche.

Shaking, you stumbled out of the alleyway, the rain plastering your hair to your face. You passed Mrs. Chen's convenience store, her worried calls falling on deaf ears. Her voice, however, was distorted, warped into a mocking echo, a grotesque parody of concern. It was as if something else was speaking through her, trying to familiarize itself with you, to claim you as its own.

Keys fumbled in your trembling hands, finally slipping into the lock of your apartment door. You stumbled inside, slamming the door shut behind you with a violent thud that shook the very foundation of the building. Rushing to the bathroom, you collapsed to your knees before the toilet, a torrent of thick, black liquid erupting from your throat.

The world spun, a dizzying kaleidoscope of colors. You felt lightheaded, weak, as if the very ground beneath you was shifting and swaying. Desperate, you tore off your clothes, the sodden fabric hitting the floor with a sickening thud. You turned on the shower, the icy water a stark contrast to the burning sensation that consumed you.

As the water cascaded over your skin, washing away the grime and the chilling fear, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. A wave of horror washed over you. Black, veiny tendrils, like the roots of some monstrous plant, pulsed beneath your skin, then vanished as quickly as they appeared.

"I'm going crazy," you whispered, your voice hoarse and trembling. "It's just… it's just in my head."

You stood beneath the icy spray, the cold water doing little to soothe the burning sensation within. Then, the insistent ringing of your phone shattered the silence. You fumbled for it, your fingers clumsy and trembling. The caller ID displayed "Eddie." You hesitated, fear gripping you. Answering felt like an act of defiance, like inviting the unseen entity within you to take control.

You hung up, the sharp, metallic taste of fear filling your mouth. You glanced back at the mirror, your breath catching in your throat. Something was watching you, a malevolent intelligence lurking behind your own reflection. A scream, raw and primal, erupted from your lips as you stumbled backward, your head colliding violently with the tile wall.

The fluorescent lights of the convenience store buzzed overhead, casting long, skeletal shadows across the aisles. Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the storm raging inside you. It had been months since the incident, a gaping wound in the fabric of your life. You'd become a recluse, your apartment a tomb where you barely slept, the only excursions forced by the gnawing hunger that clawed at your insides.

Weight had melted away, leaving you gaunt and hollow-eyed. Your voice, once a vibrant melody, was now a hoarse croak, a testament to the silent screams that echoed within. Eddie's calls went unanswered, his texts unanswered, his knocks on the door met with the cold, dead silence of an empty apartment. You'd even changed the locks, a desperate attempt to keep him away, to keep yourself hidden from his concerned gaze, from the pity that would surely drown you.

Sleep offered no respite. Nightmares, vivid and terrifying, haunted your dreams. You'd wake drenched in sweat, gasping for air, the memory of the…thing…still fresh in your mind. The thought of seeking help was paralyzing. They'd lock you away, label you delusional, a victim of your own fragile mind. But then, you saw it. Agony, as it called itself, a grotesque alien entity, a symbiote that had chosen you as its host.

Your body, weak and broken, was the only vessel it could find. A desperate act of survival. And despite the agonizing toll it took, you became the perfect host, a conduit for its otherworldly power.

Months later, you found yourself on the sidewalk, a plastic bag overflowing with groceries from Mrs. Chen's clutched tightly in your numb fingers. "Hey!" A voice, familiar and yet distant, sliced through the air.

You froze, your heart hammering against your ribs. Slowly, you turned, your eyes meeting Eddie's. He was breathless, his face a mask of worry, his eyes wide with a mixture of relief and something akin to…fear? "Jesus Christ, I thought you were dead!" he gasped, his voice cracking.

"Eddie…" you whispered, the word catching in your throat. Guilt, a suffocating weight, pressed down on you. How could you possibly explain? How could you tell your best friend that you were now host to an alien entity? "I'm so…"

"Sorry?!" Eddie's voice was a raw, wounded thing. "Sorry is all you have to say?"

You took a hesitant step forward, reaching out a trembling hand towards him. Words failed you, so you simply took his hand, your fingers interlacing with his, and pulled him towards your apartment.

Inside, Eddie paced like a caged animal, his voice a torrent of anguish as he poured out his frustration. "Months! You disappeared for months without a word!" He was unlike anything you'd ever seen him – vulnerable, raw, utterly heartbroken. And it hurt. It hurt knowing that you were the cause of this pain.

He stopped pacing, his gaze locking with yours. "I…I have this…" you began, your voice trailing off.

And then, it happened. Agony, its form shifting and coalescing, materialized before you, its head emerging from your shoulder. But it wasn't alone. From Eddie's chest, another symbiote, sleek and obsidian, erupted, mirroring Agony's movements.

Eddie's eyes widened in disbelief. This wasn't supposed to happen. You weren't supposed to become a host. He'd always been so cautious, so protective of you. He'd even kept his distance at the beginning of his and Venom's symbiosis, terrified of hurting you, of becoming the reason for your demise. "H-how?" he whispered, his voice thick with shock.

You recounted that night, the agonizing pain, the suffocating fear that had consumed you for months. You didn't care what happened to you. You just wanted to survive. You didn't want to hurt him. But you had no idea he was also…bonded.

You sat in a heavy silence, the air thick with unspoken emotions. You talked, not just about the symbiotes, not just about the pain and fear, but about everything. About your lives, your dreams, your fears. And then, you said it. "I…I love you, Eddie."

He was speechless, his eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and disbelief. "I…I…" He stammered, unable to find the words.

"Eddie," Venom hissed inside his mind, its voice a low growl. "You are being a complete pussy! Tell him! We love him!"

Eddie rubbed his face, his gaze finally meeting yours. "We…I…I love you too," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "That's why I never said anything. I was scared. Scared of ruining things. Like I did with Annie."

You nodded, understanding the fear that mirrored your own. "I understand, Eddie. I do."

Another silence fell, heavy and awkward. Then, his hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours. "Interspecies boyfriends?" he joked, a hint of a smile gracing his lips.

"Wouldn't have it any other way," you replied, a genuine smile finally breaking through the gloom that had settled over you.

The rain continued to fall outside, but inside, a different kind of storm was brewing – a storm of hope, of love, of a future that, despite the challenges, held the promise of something beautiful.

[urween]

I just feel very connected to Mal'akh tonight, i drop that here 💗

Thanks M, i love u <3

[urween]

Kinda feel the same with the MCU, i want to read and i read but i end up feeling like shit because it was a female reader or a fake afab

If that can help, what i did in those moments is take a break. Breath and say things kinda basic like "I'm a boy" "my name's [male name if you want to]" and i just praise myself in a way, it helps a bit

Sometimes i just end up hating fem!reader, because there is plenty of good fics for them but just a bit for us, transgender. I'm talking about ftm a lot but it's even worse for mtf, and cis male reader are not better too. I'm not truly hating fem!reader, I've nothing against you but i hate how it works for us. I want to have a great fics to read too, and to not struggle every single night trying to find a little one shot with ftm and a character i don't even like or know.

[urween]

Since Daredevil (the show) is my favorite Marvel series I allow myself to do a debrief 🤝

Season 2 was ZERO and all because of Elektra, sorry for the term but she's a real pain in the ass, she puts everyone in trouble and in short I don't like her, does that show?

1 and 3 are great though! Obviously the first seasons are always my favorites, it's the moment when you learn everything. But the 3rd was interesting, I found the little extra from the first episodes.

Okay, let's be serious, I have a problem with religious characters, I can't explain why I LOVE them. I find that it brings so much to internal development. So for this reason already Daredevil will remain my favorite Marvel series. Then, the overall aesthetic is in my opinion a bit wonderful, so much so that I have difficulty clearly putting it into words. I don't feel like I'm watching a Marvel product, even though there are all the signs, but idk it's as if Daredevil was the little miracle of the MCU that they managed not to spoil. A lot of people have that with Loki (the series), personally it's absolutely not my case.

My heart wavers between team!Frank or team!Matt in the sense of their views on justice. I find that unfortunately Frank is right about a lot of things, and sometimes it makes me sad to think that we really need a Punisher in our world (especially at the moment). But despite this I do not agree with many of his actions which in my opinion are exaggerated. To summarize: Frank is right about a lot of things but I try to tell myself that there is still hope just like Matt does.

Then ☝️. I feel like I'm a bit alone in defending Dex, but do we realize that he's not a real bad guy? (SPOILERS ALERT) He is observed to be a psychopath, he has a well-constructed method to follow to get by in life and from the moment he does it everything is fine. The problem is that he is extremely mentally fragile and all it takes is for someone like Fisk to find the right words and he goes completely wrong (it's even made clear with the sons). Therefore, for me Dex cannot be considered at the same stage as Fisk. It's a harsh metaphor but he's just a hungry dog who's been told to shred an innocent covering of pâté. And then the end of season 3 defends my heart, they are going to transform him into a super soldier (hello Buck) and abuse him again. For all these reasons I find that Dex is a really interesting character psychologically and that he deserves a little vacation in the sun☝️🤓.

On the other hand, while writing this I realize that I have a problem with mentally unstable men who are manipulated and transformed into war machines. (Bucky, Logan, Dex..). Beware of my future boyfriend.

Rey heart on you, I liked you 💗

AH AND! Karen's little crush on her, yet she is very sexualized too and I don't like that at all but idk, she remains really interesting and strong so I like her a lot!

(english isn't my first language, excuse the mistakes please)

[urween]

J'ai fini Daredevil (la série) et puisque c'est ma série Marvel préférée je m'autorise à faire un long débrief 🤝

La saison 2 était NULLE et tout ça à cause d'Elektra, désolé du terme mais c'est une vraie chieuse, elle met tout le monde dans la merde et bref je l'aime pas, ça se voit ?

La 1 et la 3 sont géniales par contre ! Forcément les premières saisons sont toujours mes favorites, c'est le moment où on apprend tout. Mais la 3e était intéressante, j'ai retrouvé le petit + des premiers épisodes.

Bon parlons sérieusement, j'ai un problème avec les personnages religieux, je peux pas expliquer pourquoi je les ADORE. Je trouve que ça apporte tellement au développement interne. Donc pour cette raison déjà Daredevil restera ma série Marvel favorite. Ensuite, l'esthétique global est à mon sens un peu merveilleux, tellement que j'ai du mal à clairement mettre des mots dessus. J'ai pas l'impression de regarder un produit Marvel, alors qu'il y a tout le signes pourtant mais jsp c'est comme si Daredevil était le petit miracle du MCU qu'ils ont réussi à ne pas gâcher. Beaucoup de gens ont ça avec Loki (la série), perso c'est absolument pas mon cas.

Mon cœur vacille entre team!Frank ou team!Matt dans le sens pour leurs points de vue vis à vis de la justice. Je trouve que malheureusement Frank a raison sur énormément de choses, et parfois ça me rend triste de me dire qu'on aurait bien besoin d'un Punisher dans notre monde (surtout en ce moment). Mais malgré ça je ne suis pas en accord avec beaucoup de ses actions qui sont à mon sens exagérées. Pour résumer : Frank a raison sur bien des choses mais j'essaie de me dire qu'il reste de l'espoir tout comme Matt le fait.

Ensuite ☝️. J'ai l'impression que je suis un peu tout seul à défendre Dex, mais on se rend compte que c'est pas un vrai méchant ? (SPOILERS ALERT) Il est diagnostiqué psychopathe, il a une méthode bien construite à suivre pour s'en sortir dans la vie et à partir du moment où il le fait tout va bien. Le problème c'est qu'il est extrêmement fragile mentalement et qu'il suffit que quelqu'un comme Fisk trouve les bons mots et il vrille totalement (c'est même explicité avec les sons). De ce fait, pour moi Dex ne peut pas être considéré au même stade que Fisk. C'est une métaphore dure mais il n'est qu'un chien affamé à qui on a dit de déchiqueter un innocent recouvert de pâté. Et puis la fin de la saison 3 me fend le cœur, ils vont le transformer en super soldat (coucou Buck) et encore abuser de lui. Pour toutes ces raisons je trouve que Dex est un personnage vraiment intéressant psychologiquement et qu'il mérite un peu de vacances au soleil☝️🤓.

Par contre en écrivant ça je me rend compte que j'ai un problème avec les hommes instables mentalement qui se font manipuler et transformer en machine de guerre. (Bucky, Logan, Dex..). Méfiez-vous de mon futur petit ami.

- Rey cœur sur toi, moi je t'aimais bien 💗

- AH ET ! Karen petit coup de cœur pour elle, pourtant elle est très sexualisée aussi et j'aime pas ça du tout mais jsp, elle reste vraiment intéressante et forte donc je l'aime beaucoup !

[urween]

Listening to California by Lana Del Rey and thinking of Bucky in these lines 🥹🥹

Guys I break my own heart 💔

[urween]

starring: wade wilson x ftm!male reader

request: can i request deadpool x ftm reader <33 im not too picky as far as kinks go but id like dom wade n some mentions of daddy kink :] maybe wade talking shit n teasing the reader for being into it

warnings: smut, cursing, overstimulation rough sex, daddy kink, degradation

"you're really into this huh cupcake" wade teased as his hips worked into you at a steady pace, his cock sinking all the way to the hilt in your soaking folds again and again as he whispered slightly degrading words into your ear.

"just my little cum slut right" he asked,his breath running up you neck and sending shivers down your spine while your hands clawed at his back leaving marks that healed instantly "please go harder wade" you whine, legs locking around his waist to keep him form pulling out.

"mm you want daddy to fuck you like a whore" wade tuts, his thrusts stopping just momentarily to watch you whimper under him and rut your hips against him, trying to feel him just a bit deeper to scratch that unbearable feeling you have inside you.

"mhm please" you moan "please what, m'gonna need you to use your words" wades teases "please fuck me like a whore daddy" you stammer out embarrassed by your own words sounding so slutty but wade complies with you, lifting up and angling his hips just right to slam into your pink gummy walls.

his hands tightly holding your hips while your soaking pussy grips onto him, sucking him back in each time he threatens to pulls out "so desperate for some dick or is it just you like being told how much of a slut you are" wade lets out a breathy chuckle, his hips going harder with each word.

"fuck please cum in me wade, i want you cum so bad" you moans, your nails digging into his thighs trying to get him to fuck you harder "sure thing baby" wade huffs moving his hands to your legs to pin them open, his hips slamming into your before he cums in you, making you cum as well as you release sprays all over, wade moving one hand to massage your aching clit.

your legs shaking violently as your orgasm ripples through your whole body "yeah lemme hear all those pretty sounds" wade smirks at the sight of your eyes rolling back and your thighs clasping around his hand before you finally come down from your high "that's my good boy" he coos kissing your forehead

taglist:@mailmango @spermeboy @ghostking4m @gayaristocrat @addictedtomalepits @staarb0y @crispysoup318 @its-ares @gargoylesworld09 @znerac @inhumanshadows

[urween]

Always the writer, never the reader.

[urween]

forever in awe of people who pay attention. people who wait for you while you tie your shoes while the others have walked away. when they continue listening intently while the rest of the group stopped listening. noticing your moments of silence when everyone else hasn’t. “this made me think of you” noticing things you never even noticed about yourself. people who say “text me when you get home safe.” people who make you laugh until you cry. childhood friends who keep in touch. people with genuine intentions. people who are soft when the world has given them every opportunity to turn hard. the “let’s get ice cream” at 3am friend. the turn up the music in the car and sing friend. people whose actions match their words. people who make the world feel less chaotic. kindred spirits. the trustworthy and honest. hard workers. good listeners. clear communicators. people who love you for who you are. people who don’t ask you to be anything other than yourself. people who choose you. people who stay.

[urween]

Skittish | Bucky Barnes x ftm!reader | english version

summary: After a long battle and especially hard research, the Avengers finally found the Winter Soldier. To keep everyone safe, they keep him locked in their HQ. In semi-freedom but especially in a trance, Bucky Barnes attracts the attention of the young boy in charge of taking care of him during his stay here.

notes: I prefer to specify it, the temporality is not exactly respected. Let's say that all this takes place just after Captain America: The Winter Soldier.

⚠︎ warnings: mentions of heavy trauma related to the war and the Hydra projects, a form of depressed!Bucky, violence, weapons, incomprehension of transidentity without transphobia, mentions of suicidal thoughts.

English isn't my first language, sorry for the mistakes <3

- 2nd person description

- 5 371 words

french version here

You were the little protégé of the group, he had quickly noticed. Even if Natasha didn't have superpowers or a robotic suit either, she was part of the team. She and Clint were kind of the superhumans of the group, with superhuman abilities but nothing that surpassed Thor's lightning or Hulk's muscles. Then, there was you, a fairly normal little human with no particular specificities. High intelligence, extreme kindness and an adorable smile. But no mastery of martial arts. You knew the basics of fighting, Nat had taught you the main thing. You had ended up understanding Bruce's extravagant chemical formulas, and you understood the most important things Tony said in his intense nerd phases. But once again, you were nothing special, and that made Bucky wonder. Why was a basic human here? What were you doing in the middle of the Avengers? Even though he had missed a few decisive years from a social point of view, he didn't understand.

As he stared from his cell, he saw scenes he didn't know how to interpret. You assisting Tony Stark and Jarvis, you laughing with Bruce Banner, you helping Natasha Romanoff train, you carrying Steve Rogers' shield to him, you sorting Clint Barton's arrows, you redoing Thor's braids.

What were you doing there?

You had cheerfully introduced yourself to him. With a friendly smile on your lips, you had stated your name, first name and pronouns – he hadn't really understood this last point –. You had surely been informed of his situation. Don't be offended, he'll need a little time, someone must have whispered to you. He hadn't answered you, and you hadn't seemed offended. You had then left, and he had remained perplexed. If you already knew everything about him, why come and introduce yourself? You must have read his files, you must have all read his files. Steve had to slip away to get some air, Natasha inspected everything in detail, Bruce muttered "it’s awful". You had to read his files. See his life laid out on a large table, foreign hands going over the medical reports. You had to read with anguish the endless list of victims he had killed during his missions, observe the modifications that had been made to him, the treatments inflicted, the pains endured. You had seen all that. Then, why come see him?

"Let's just say I don't really like you hanging around this guy," Tony's voice had been saying for several minutes, "Jarvis copy this plan for me and make a 3D reconstruction with train stations, airports and all the stuff."

The holograms moved before your eyes, but you hadn't paid attention to them. Back then, the first time you saw this virtual world being modeled in Tony's office, you were like a kid. Stars in your eyes, you asked a thousand questions per second, making the creator of this program smile. But now you knew yourself how most of the "Jarvis" system worked, and you weren't so impressed anymore, or at least you weren't with every move Stark made.

"I don't see what's bothering you," you replied, innocently swinging your legs in the air.

Tony turned around with his ever-so-dramatic gestures, making a vague movement with his hand he tried to make you understand things without having to speak. Unfortunately for him telekinesis was not part of your abilities.

"Okay," he admitted to himself, defeated, "to start with his sophisticated robotic arm that could crush you before you could scream," he mimed disinterestedly, “did you look at him? Unstable and completely high."

A non-hidden smile drew a curve across your lips.

"We're still talking about Bucky Barnes?” you had fun, “because I rather have the impression that you're looking at yourself in a mirror"

You glanced at Jarvis, who was finishing your friend's request. Then, your attention went back to the billionaire who was visibly desperate to have this discussion with you – you were getting used to it, a demonstration of love coming from Tony –.

"I prefer to cut you off right now," your voice continued, "I forbid you to give me the traditional excuses like he's dangerous or armed or he's a murderer”. You got down from the table where you were sitting and gestured around the room, “look around Tony, only weapons or future weapons,” you got closer to him and pointed at his forehead, “you have the greatest weapon that humanity has ever known in this skull. Natasha and Clint are professional killers, Steve is a traumatized soldier who makes a denial, Thor is an alien with supernatural powers and Bruce is a scientist haunted by a destructive alter-ego”. You pause to admire the still indecipherable facial expression of the man in front of you, “you are all murderers and dangers to Mankind, the only difference between you and Barnes is that you chose to devote your talents to a cause, and he had no choice".

Tony remained motionless for a few long seconds, a whirlwind surely vibrating his neurons. Then, he shrugged his shoulders and quickly bowed his head in defeat.

"You're right," he declared, "I’ve no more arguments and yours are solid”, he turned and went back to Jarvis, “well done kid"

A year ago you would have been perplexed by this reaction, but time had taught you that you had to take Tony Stark with a grain of salt and observe him as you would with a foreign mushroom. All you could remember from this interaction was that you were tired, that you had won against the great megalomaniac Iron Man and above all that you had to talk to Barnes again.

No one had really agreed with Steve on the idea of ​​bringing a Hydra mercenary back to Avengers HQ. It's the equivalent of serving him our secrets on a silver platter, Clint had rightly said. You had been surprised to see Nat defend Barnes, alongside you and Steve – of course –. There was Bruce who couldn't deliver a distinct judgment, then Tony and Clint who were against. Thor having left, you didn't know where in space, the votes had therefore been closed with a majority of for.

You had helped Captain set up a room that was at least habitable in a protective cell, a bit like the one that had sheltered Loki. While the tall blond carried the fold-out bed, you had taken care of a bag of clothes – approximately Barnes' size – and another with water and sweets, this idea had come from you. You found it unfair to call this man a simple murderer, he had been manipulated and controlled. As you put the cereal bars on a small iron table, you tried not to think about the chaos that must be going on in the Winter Soldier's head at the same time. He must have been just as traumatized as his victims, maybe even more so. And finding himself in such a particular environment overnight must have been disturbing. So a chocolate bar and a soda couldn't hurt him.

Thank you, Steve had murmured, for understanding. You had given him a touching smile, holding back the urge to ask him how he felt. He had just found his best friend, who was supposed to have disappeared for several decades, and on top of that, this friend had suffered inhumane treatment for most of his life now. It was obvious that he didn't feel well, that he was helpless in the face of this situation. Bruce had advised you to give him time, and that if he needed it, he would end up talking to one of you. You had listened to his advice, and focused more on Barnes instead.

You had introduced yourself first, starting with a simple acquaintance. You had then made sure to take care of his needs, slipping in a new bottle of fresh water when the previous one was empty, opening his prison only when night fell so that he could go shower without running into a contemptuous Tony or a depressed Steve.

On this subject, rules had been established to guarantee everyone's safety. If Bucky left his cell it was always in the company of one of you – you were the only ones with the passes –, if he asked for something – which he never did – the object had to pass through several control portals before being given to him, and finally no matter where he went, toilets or showers, someone had to watch over him within the limits of privacy. Bruce had offered to take turns, but judging by the faces of the others you had volunteered to ensure most of his outings. Natasha was supposed to replace you when you weren't available, then Tony if neither of you were present. This way you had avoided conflicts but also and above all Steve wouldn't have to go there.

You didn't know him, Bucky, having only seen the videos in his file, and yet every time you went to visit him your stomach knotted. There was no question of fear, since his robotic arm had been censored to the maximum thanks to a Stark gadget, leaving him only the freedom to use it as a normal limb, without super-strength or integrated weapons. He remains a super soldier, Bruce had warned, his physical faculties are superior to Nat's and he has a serum similar to Steve's in his veins. But you weren't afraid. Unfortunately a goat would have made you shiver more than Barnes when you went to see him. He was always on pause. Never spoke, barely moving his gaze from the ground. You had been reassured to see that he ate the bare minimum, and he had even tasted a chocolate bar one day. But aside from these details, it was as if you were seeing the same robot in the same position, day after day. Your stomach knotted for these reasons, because when you brought him clean sheets he had nothing of the man you had seen on video. The rage that haunted his eyes had disappeared, there was only a nameless emptiness left, and you had never seen anything so sad. You didn't feel like you had a hundred-year-old Hydra soldier in front of you, but a broken orphan.

You spent a lot of time rereading his file, his reports, his exams. You tried to understand him through these papers. Steve was lost, he no longer saw Buck in those eyes, and you were trying to understand what he had become, Buck. According to his personal file, he had been found at the age of twenty-six before undergoing Hydra’s experiments. A photo of him, in 1943, was stuck to the paper. A shy smile on his lips, his infantry hat slightly tilted on his head and his uniform without a crease sitting proudly on his chest. A tear had seriously rolled down your cheek, ending its path in a Russian handwriting: Зимний Солдат, in other words Winter Soldier. Bruce had carried out a complete tradition of all the documents, later corrected by Natasha. Maybe rereading these texts was not good for you, but you needed it. You were the only one here who was interested in Barnes. Steve felt so guilty that he was in a kind of denial, Nat was only coldly studying the soldier’s file and let’s not even talk about the others. Bucky needed time, understanding and gentleness to at least not make his after-effects worse. You most certainly had to make mistakes, not being a psychologist by profession, but you were already doing better than your comrades and than Hydra.

"Nice evening, huh?" Your voice echoed in a leaden silence.

The sun had set for over three hours, most of the Avengers were in their rooms or gone outside, which meant that it was the perfect time for Barnes to take a shower. You had gathered your strength and went to the soldier's cell. When you had passed by, about two hours ago, he had not wanted to eat his meal so you had taken it back and heated it up again for later. With the hot dish in one hand, you carefully closed the armored glass door behind you. As you expected, Barnes had hardly moved since your last visit. Still sitting cross-legged in his bed, he seemed vaguely to notice your presence.

"I know you didn't want to eat earlier," you began, putting the meal down next to him, "but I thought that maybe your appetite had returned in the meantime."

Sometimes you were entitled to a small, hoarse "hum" from the back of his throat as a response, but you wondered if it was intentional since his gestures didn't match this slight sign of life. Unfortunately, tonight wasn't part of that "sometimes." No noise, barely a breath. But you didn't get discouraged.

The first few times you came to talk to him, his complete lack of reaction had made you wonder about his possible understanding of your language. Yet you had read that he read and spoke at least two languages, including yours. You might not understand what I'm telling you, you had mumbled while picking up his used clothes. Your biggest interaction with him had been when he had looked you straight in the eye and said in a pleasantly deep voice: I understand.

“Other than that you can-”

You were surprised to see him stand up on his own, studiously heading towards the exit door while waiting for you to open it. You were usually the one who went first to the exit, waiting two or three seconds for him to get up and join you. But this was a nice surprise, maybe it meant that his condition was improving.

Your electromagnetic pass stuck to the dashboard, a small beep sounded before you pushed the heavy door and let Barnes go first. These security questions were mandatory for you to approach the Winter Soldier. Always making him walk in front of you, making your pass inaccessible – hidden in your sleeve most of the time as Bruce had advised you –, a bladed weapon concealed against your ankle in case of trouble, and you weren't supposed to talk to him about yourself or the team. Clint had wanted to add an additional rule: not to speak to him unless necessary, to prevent any risk of manipulation. Did you look at him carefully? Had you imposed yourself in the discussion, he didn't utter any opposition during the whole process to bring him back here, and then remember his mission reports, he wasn't a spy but a mass murderer, he was programmed to speak as little as possible to his victims. Tony had agreed with you on the subject, recalling the case of Loki – once again – who was very different from Barnes.

Stupid rules, you thought as you watched the silhouette of the man in front of you advance in the long corridor. If the others saw him for more than five minutes, they would realize that he was nothing more than a victim in this cell. They all found you a little naive and they appreciated you for that, a ray of hope in the midst of chaos. Yet you were by far the one with the best perception of the others. Each villain had arguments, good or bad, you listened to them all. You reasoned with the team, making them come out of their superhero bubble to show them the possibility of a little levity.

You did not doubt the abilities of Barnes, you wanted to find yourself face to face with him even less than with Nat – and that was already a lot –. You sometimes looked again at the surveillance videos taken the day Natasha and Steve fought him for the first time. He was hypnotizing, in the way all his movements seemed to come together with such fluidity and speed, the way his body thought for him and acted accordingly. You were dizzy from a roll in comparison, so seeing it all was astounding. Of course, there were horrible explanations behind these gifts, just like most people who could reproduce all this, but you still couldn't help but analyze these videos. And then, there in that hallway, you looked at Barnes' back, his arm gleaming, the red star enthroned there, and you wondered what was going on in his mind. What he could do was inhuman, and seeing it in image reinforced that feeling.Then you had to realize that he was a human being, who had once been like you. His way of functioning had to have been completely disrupted, distorted and destroyed. We had to reduce to crumbs what had been to build what was now, that was how it worked. To adapt to a new environment we were always advised to forget everything we thought we knew, all the movies said it. In the same way that flat-earthers were convinced that the Earth was flat, Barnes no longer saw the world the way you did.

As the rules said, you discreetly put your pass in a pants pocket as you reached the bathroom. Simple locks served as security, and it was more than enough. No one except you had ever mentioned the possibility that Bucky was trying to end his life. If he did, the bathroom was the best place, which is why a simple lock would do the trick so that you or someone else could break down the door if necessary. But you avoided thinking too much about this exit, because through the few interactions you had had with him and the thoughts you had about him, you had become truly attached to him.

You opened the shower curtain, under Barnes' intrigued gaze. Each Avengers had a bathroom with the bare minimum in their room, but there were also three larger bathrooms on the second floor. These were the rooms to clean yourself in an emergency when you came back covered in blood, or Bruce went there in the event of a green alert for example. They were more accessible than the bedrooms, which explained this function. But what made Bucky curious was not that. You always gave him room number two, with a basic shower, a sink and a toilet. But there you were in number one, with a bathtub. He quickly detailed the room, slightly larger and apart from the bathtub there was nothing that differentiated it from number 2. As always, you had previously removed all objects that could be used as weapons. The pile of two clean towels overhung by harsh soap and shampoo – to avoid the risk of swallowing or too aggressive eye attacks – and the washcloth, were still carefully placed on the edge of the sink. So why a bathtub?

As if you were reading his mind, you turned around in a fluid movement. You took the time to appreciate Barnes' expressive gaze – it was so rare – before answering his questions.

"I assumed it must have been years since you had a real bath, you tried to avoid the Hydra subject, so I thought it could be a good idea?”

A good number of emotions passed through the blue of his eyes, only accentuating your apprehension about his reaction. No one had been even friendly to him for a long time, which meant that he was going to take a while before properly reacting. But as you had imagined, his gaze scanned the bathtub behind you at breakneck speed in search of a trap. I'm not like them, you thought with a pang of heart.

"I know what you must be telling yourself, but there is no trap Bucky,” his name resonated more than you would have imagined, “it's going to be long but believe me I'm not trying to kill you or hurt you"

A heavy doubt seemed to weigh, and you could only understand. This kind of sentence, he must have heard far too many before ending up electrocuted or worse. To help his process, you moved away and let him fully observe the place. His eyes locked on the shower head longer than expected, and once again, you felt nauseous as you imagined the traumas that must be replaying in his head. In that moment, you thought back to the first time you had led him into a bathroom. He had refused to get into the shower, his jaw clenched to the point that his teeth must have hurt, he had stared at you with a cocktail of indecipherable emotions in his eyes. You had ended up remembering the treatment reserved for Jews in the showers during the Second World War, and you had immediately apologized. Sorry, I should have thought of that, you had said guiltily, if you want you can just wash yourself with the washcloth and the faucet water, no need for the shower head today if you don't trust it. And the situation seemed to be happening again tonight, he was afraid that you would want to get rid of him during his shower, or bath in this case. Unfortunately, techniques have evolved since 39-45, especially since he was in the HQ of the greatest engineer in the United States, which meant that you could have found many methods to kill him while he was washing.

But you had to find a way to reassure him, because you had no intention of executing him quietly, and you wanted to be sincerely nice.

"Maybe if it reassures you I can-,” you hesitated before telling yourself that it was for a good cause, “I can stay with you? There's a curtain anyway"

Faced with his expression that swayed from surprise to doubt, you felt obliged to justify.

"If there's gas or an explosion, I'll die with you, which wouldn't be very appreciated by the team”, you paused slightly to gauge his reaction, “and if there's anything else threatening you can kill me yourself since I'll be right next to you”. You then brandish the door’s key between your two fingers, “on top of that I lock us in and leave the key on the edge of the bathtub, so I don't run away and lock you behind me"

You had the strong impression that in another time, Barnes would have smiled, maybe even laughed. Then, to your surprise, you saw a semblance of amusement in his eyes. An almost invisible veil that lasted only a second, just long enough for a distant version of him to take over the Winter Soldier. You couldn't help your smile, waiting despite everything for a more concrete reaction before reacting in return.

Bucky tried to get a dominant emotion out of the hubbub that was playing in his mind. You were definitely different, and he was beginning to understand why you had your place in the middle of a band of superhumans. And even if someone who spoke like you had the perfect profile to manipulate people at a high level, he risked taking his chance.

"Can I have twenty seconds alone to undress"

The shiver that electrocuted your entire body surely did not go unnoticed. His voice, his tone, gave a more directive than questioning turn to his question, and you only nodded slightly. In turn, you became as silent as him, too disturbed by the outburst of reactions on his part in such a short time. You left the bathroom, pushed the door behind you without closing it, because despite your shock, your unconscious valued your safety.

While you waited for some signal authorizing you to enter the room, you wandered on new thoughts. Barnes had not spoken to anyone from what you had been told. The cameras had recorded that during the fight to neutralize him he had spoken, a few Hydra men were with him so you had assumed that he was giving them orders in Russian. Natasha had been too busy trying not to die to pay attention to what he had said, but in hindsight, you wanted to know what had come out of his mouth that day. Tony liked to say that Russian was one of the least welcoming languages ​​in the world, but strangely hearing it from Bucky made you want to. Maybe it was his growling voice, maybe because Russian had been his “native” language for years. Besides Russian, he spoke other languages ​​according to reports, but then again he hadn’t shown off his skills to anyone but you. Besides, I’m pretty much the only one he’s seen since he arrived, you thought. But he had still had the opportunity when Bruce had come with you to visit him to check a wiring on the dashboard. He could have done it from his cell too, since it was completely transparent and he could see the hallway where many people passed, he could have talked. But he hadn’t, and without knowing why you had the feeling that he only wanted to talk to you.

The sound of water almost made you jump. You muttered a curse – hoping Bucky hadn’t heard – before slowly turning towards the door.

“Can I?” You rather ask to avoid a drama.

By the time he answered, you let your mind wander again. What if he was just naked in the middle of the room? Hydra had conditioned him to lose all sense of ownership, to make even his body no longer belong to him, which he meant was that nudity was no longer taboo and that on the contrary – given to the horrors these people had done – they could very well have forced him to stay naked to humiliate him further.

"Yes," his voice echoed vaguely.

Preparing yourself for the worst, you took a deep breath and kept your eyes high to avoid any eye contact in the wrong place. But as you opened the door you were relieved to see the curtain halfway drawn and Bucky already in the water. A feeling, which at the time you compared to a parent proud of their child, warmed your heart. It may not have been much in the eyes of the world, but you imagined the man's feelings when he plunged a body that had become almost unknown into warm water prepared for him, and him alone. Comfort, surprise, relief. A lot must have been going on in the Winter Soldier's head.

You closed the door behind you, locking the exit as planned. But as you moved closer to place the key next to him, a second wave of heat passed through your body as you realized something. He had only drawn the curtain halfway, thus hiding the lower part of his body but leaving you all the pleasure of seeing from his torso. Once again, in other measures you would not have found the situation moving, but rather comical. Except that this is the Winter Soldier, and all his communication was done without voice. He had left his arms and face visible so that you too could see that he wasn't a threat. In the same way that you had found a solution to his anxiety, he was taking a step towards you, showing you that you had no reason to fear him at the moment.

"Thank you," you murmured.

As if you were afraid of breaking the moment, you settled down without a sound. There was no chair here, but the floor suited you. You crossed your legs while resting your back against the small extension of the wall attached to the bathtub. This way, you stayed close enough to him while respecting a necessary distance to avoid seeing the rest of his naked body.

You forgot to check the time, no longer counting the minutes of observation that the man in front of you gave you before asking questions.

Bucky stayed in the water for a whole hour before it started to cool down. You spent all your time detailing his relaxed face, his eyes closed as if he was going to fall asleep from one second to the next. Then when he opened his eyelids again, he looked at you in turn for a few seconds, before asking you if he could get out of the bath. In his sentence, reality hit you again.

You had a mad desire to tell him that he was free, that he no longer had to take orders. You wanted to show him the world, to make him taste vanilla ice cream, to make him smell incense in churches, the greasy of triple burgers. You had the need to see him buy with his own money, help him get up from his first falls. When he looked at you with his big blue eyes, waiting for your permission to get out of a bath, you wanted to ask him for forgiveness, in the name of humanity. To promise him that no one would come and hit him, to promise this little boy that nothing would happen to him, that he could live a peaceful and happy life with his friends and family. But looking at the raw skin on his left shoulder, looking at the weapon that was implanted in his body, you felt your stomach turn. No one had been there to protect this child from Brooklyn, none of the people who had done this to him had even felt sorry for this man. And today he was sleeping in a cell capable of resisting the strength of the Hulk.

"You can get out of the bath," your voice broke.

He obeyed, rolling the superhuman muscles of his body to straighten up. You barely moved, being too far away in your thoughts to even think of looking away from him. A new blow was dealt to your heart as you realized that yes, he no longer had any notion of possession over his body. Two drops of water fell against your calf as he grabbed the largest towel and wiped his skin without emotion. The rough sound of the fabric made you shiver, and then you slowly stood up. He was taller than you, but neither that nor his robotic arm stopped you from grabbing his wet towel. His body failed to react when you passed the white fabric against his arm, his face was frozen in an expression of total incomprehension, faced with the softness with which the towel came into contact with his skin.

You finished your task, as if he were just a tiny puppy to wipe. Then, you took three steps back and fixed your eyes on his. You handed him some clean clothes, before taking the key back and heading towards the door.

“I really need some hot chocolate,” your voice still broken with tears declared, “and I’d love to share it with you, Bucky.”

Your slightly trembling hand wiped the moisture from your cheeks, then gradually turned back to the soldier after unlocking the exit. He had already dressed, the black jogging bottoms falling low on his hips. Bucky examined your face, and his eyebrows met in a half-confused, half-sad expression. He got close enough to you for you to feel the warmth he gave off.

“No cinnamon,” he said, “I don’t think I like it.”

You let out a nervous chuckle, telling yourself that only you could find yourself in these situations.

“No cinnamon.”

There was a first time for everything, and when you saw – later that night – whipped cream on the Winter Soldier’s lips, you thought that after all, the child could not be saved but that you could bring the man back to life.

pictures : Pinterest

dividers : @/strangergraphics, @/pommecita et @/thecutestgrotto

[urween]

Me on the 4th of March

[urween]

We really need a Punisher in our world ngl

[urween]

salivates.. older!bucky...

he wants to keep your innocence, truly. but when you say how bad you want him to fuck you with those sparkly eyes of yours. filth rolling off your tongue like second nature. you babble on and on about you want his thick cock to fill you.

"honey, i'm thirty-six. you're twenty." he hums, thumb caressing your cheek, "like i give a fuck, bucky. i want you to fuck me until i forget where i'm at."

you don't know what you're getting into. his metal arm wrapped around your neck in a headlock as he gives you the meanest backshots of your fucking life.

you're practically screaming his name in chants, his thick cock bullying itself into your cunt— imprinting the shape of his cock in your insides.

"this what ya wanted, sweetheart? wanted me to ruin this pussy?" and you let out a long, loud whine.

"take that as a yes."

[urween]

i know its been years but its still insane to me that steve goes against the rest of the world to save bucky in every single captain america movie.

cap1: goes against everyone and storms a nazi military base in the alps by himself just because he MIGHT be able to find bucky and bring him home

cap2: will not let bucky die, even if he is the winter soldier. i cant even come up with a good description for this gay ass movie

cap3: goes against the government and tony to make sure bucky is safe

even endgame kinda: im sure that bucky being snapped was a huge motivator to steve being willing to single handedly fight thanos's entire army, besides the fact that hes a great guy. im choosing to ignore the stevebucky ending we got