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thefallennightmare · 1 year

Text

Solace-one shot

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: 3kishh

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff.

Summary: When the past comes knocking, will reader give up her perfect, quiet life to be with the one man she vowed never to speak with again?

Authors Note: here is a little something I thought of in my sleep, so I hope you enjoy! Also, I suck at summaries so apologies ha.

The sound of rain slapping against large, glass windows, eased my body and consciousness deeper into sleep. My soft snores echoed in tangent with the rain and I could feel my body sink further into the mattress, the last day falling away around me. It hadn’t been an exciting day, just spent working in the garden and working on my art; the same thing I had done so much of the last handful of years. It may not have been exciting to some but to me, it was my own solace.

To be honest, the world past the treeline of my back yard scared me, even after all this time. I thought I had adjusted well but every time I went out into public for whatever reason, I was proven wrong.

I never found myself complaining, however, with everything I had gone through and seen, I ended up retreating to this small cottage in the middle of nowhere Washington, away from civilization that scared me. Washington had no meaning to me, the farther I got away from him the better. I hadn’t seen him in over six years so I knew that I might have been over reacting in how far I tried to get away but I could never be too safe in something like this.

Even if I hadn't seen him in so long, that didn’t stop the news or rumors of him finding its way to me. I never believed it, though. I knew who he was, truly. This life I had been living, we used to talk about how it would be for the both of us. Building our home together on a large piece of land with either the mountains or a lake in the backyard, somewhere for our kids to grow up in and us to grow old in.

But with how things ended between us, I opted in creating this future without him.

My body turned to the other end of the bed, the rain sounding behind me however with the knocking that echoed from the front door drained out the rain. It was a quiet but familiar knock.

Our knock.

Three raps against the wood then one solo knock followed by two more.

My eyes snapped open, the drowsiness from sleep evaporating as I sat up in bed, gazing to the dark hallway outside of my bedroom door. All I could hear now was the rain until the knock sounded once more, this time a bit more persistent.

“No way,” I muttered while letting my feet guide me towards my front door.

It couldn’t be him. There was no way he could have found me, I made sure to cover my tracks when I moved out here.

My eyebrows raised up in confusion when I looked out of the little peep hole, seeing nothing but darkness.

Maybe I dreamed it?

I turned to head back to bed but when the same knock blasted behind me, I swiftly opened the door only to be met with more darkness.

“This isn’t funny!,” I yelled. “You’re fucking with the wrong person.”

The knife I had snatched from the table next to the front door clenched tightly in my hand.

“Y/N.”

Out of the darkness emerged the man that had been taking over my dream tonight, only this time he was in front of me, in the flesh, looking very different from the last time I had seen him.

Long hair slicked back, a thick beard covering his face, and his once patriotic and noticeable suit was now worn down and almost dark, matching the way his eyes looked.

They used to be so bright, full of life and love. But now, they were almost unrecognizable.

“St-steve?” I stammered, stumbling away from him.

A small smile pulled at the corner of his lips. “Hey doll.”

My head shook, still not believing that he was in front of me. “Wha-what are you-how did you find me-what happened-is that blood?”

A million questions ran through my mind and I didn’t know which one to ask first

I pointed to a wet spot on his suit, blood seeping through from what I was guessing a wound on his thigh; the large tear in his suit also gave me the answer I was looking for.

Steve glanced down at it before a sigh fell through his lips. “I’m okay.”

Our eyes locked and suddenly I felt myself become filled with rage. I hadn't seen Steve in so long that this is how he showed up on my doorstep? In the middle of the night and what looks like fresh off of a fight?

“How in the hell did you find me?”

His lips parted to speak but a red head came bounding up the stairs towards us. The porch light casted over her face and even if I never met her before, I knew exactly who she was.

“That actually was me. It took me some time, you really took yourself off of the map.”

I raised a brow at her. “For good reason. You’re with him?”

She nodded. “Natasha Romanoff.”

It was my turn to nod, my suspicion of who she was proved right.

“Y/N, we need your help.”

Steve reached for me and I snatched my hand away, eyes sliced into him.

“You disappear on me for years, after everything we had gone through together, and have the fucking balls to show up here asking for a favor?” I seethed.

“We told him it was a bad idea to come here but he wouldn’t listen.”

Another figure emerged from the darkness up my steps and I groaned in annoyance.

“How many people did you bring to my house, Rogers?” I asked.

“I’m Sam, Sam Wilson.” He nodded an introduction. “I’m sure Steve would be the first to tell you that we wouldn’t be here if we didn’t actually need your help.”

I took in all three of their appearances and noticed exactly how tired they were. I wasn’t sure what the three of them had gotten themselves into but did know that whatever they were running from was important enough to come here.

With a hesitant nod, I opened the front door allowing the three bodies to quickly slip inside. Knife still clenched in my hand, I did a quick once over of my wrap around porch to make sure that no one had followed them. Once it was clear, I slipped back inside my house and locked the door behind me.

“So you're wanted for treason because you guys didn’t sign some kind of accords to stop you from fighting? ” I asked Natasha.

“It’s complicated, I know. But we really do appreciate you taking us in. We won't be here long, I’m sure.”

We were sitting at my kitchen island, two cups of coffee placed in front of us, and I glanced over to my living room where Sam and Steve were quietly talking amongst themselves; most likely their next plan.

Steve had his back to me and in the way his shoulders tensed, whatever they had been running from had kept them on the run for awhile.

“How long have you guys been on the run?” I asked Natasha, looking back at her.

Her shoulders dropped. “A long time.”

“Well, feel free to stay as long as you guys need.” I gave her hand a comforting squeeze.

The relief that washed over her face was immediately recognizable. “I don’t know what happened between you and Steve but I do know that this was the last place he wanted to hide out.”

“Yeah, well I’m sure he was thrilled to come here,” I spoke with sarcasm.

Natasha raised a brow. “What exactly happened between the two of you?”

Clearing my throat, I stood from the counter and motioned behind me. “There’s a guest room down the hall next to the bathroom that I’m sure Natasha will want.”

She smiled a thanks before nodding.

“Uh, are you two okay with the couches?” I asked more towards Sam.

He nodded. “Better than what we’ve been sleeping on.”

Steve refused to meet my gaze, keeping it trained hard on his boots, so I took it as a sign to retreat back to my room.

“Help yourself to whatever you’d like. There’s extra towels in the hall closet if you guys want to take a shower.”

Sam and Natsha said their thanks and without another look towards Steve, I slipped back into my bedroom, the door open ajar.

Shaky hands ran through my hair as I began pacing my room, sputtering words falling from my lips.

“Why is he here? I’ve done so well without him,” I muttered to myself.

I could feel my heart hammer hard in my chest and it echoed loud in my ears when I thought of Steve, sitting in my living room; a sight I never thought I would see. My feet dragged over towards the desk in my room and I pulled out an old leather bound book. It was filled with my own thoughts and some pictures, the specific one I was looking for almost slipping away.

The edges were frayed and the color was faded but the smiles in the picture were still there, bright as the day it was taking, almost a hundred years ago.

Steve’s small arms wrapped around my shoulder, pulling me close. My hand squeezing the other man's face, the laughter from that day was still fresh in my mind.

I traced a finger over the other man's face, a quiet sob echoing through the room.

“I’m sorry, Bucky.”

This picture was taken before Steve became the soldier he was now, back when everything was easier. The three of us grew up together since elementary school and Bucky and I became close as we reached highschool. Everyone said we were the perfect couple and I thought so too until I thought I had lost him.

The night Steve had come to tell me that Bucky was gone was one of the hardest nights I had gone through; the night Steve left me behind was a close second.

I loved Bucky, still do to this day, and will always love him.

Guilt pulled at my heart because as much as I loved Bucky, I don’t think I could ever love him more than him.

Steve.

With a soft sigh, I placed the book back into the drawer of my desk and slipped underneath the covers of my bed, which had gone cold. I forced my eyes closed, hoping that the past wouldn’t resurface, however no matter how hard I kept them away, they slipped back. Loud, angry voices, bouncing around my head.

Bucky’s alive but he’s not the same as you remember. You can’t go after him”

Screw you, Rogers! You can’t keep him from me.

Doll, I swear it’s not a good time for you to see him. He won’t remember you.”

Is this part of your plan? Keeping us apart because we’re sleeping together?

With a loud groan, I turned over in bed, facing the doorway, and I found myself wondering what Steve was doing right now.

I love you, Steve.

I love you too, Y/N. But I have to do this. It’s the only way to keep you safe.

Throwing the blankets off of me in an instant, I tugged on a sweater and quietly slipped out of my bedroom and back door, sleep being foreign now. Thankfully I was able to go unnoticed by the voices coming from the living room.

The cold breeze blew past me, wrapping around my bare ankles, as I sat on the back step, allowing the sounds of the rain to ease my racing mind.

“You always found the sound of the rain comforting.”

My heart hammered against the cage in my chest as I watched Steve lean against the post, arms crossed over his chest.

I nodded. “Do you guys need anything?”

Steve shook his head. “Sam and Natasha are already asleep.”

“You can't?” I asked.

“We’ve been on the run so long that my body is used to being on guard,” he confessed.

I started chipping away at the polish on my fingers, nerves wrecking my body. This was the first time in so long that Steve and I were alone and there was the unsureness of if he had still felt the same.

I did, there wasn’t any doubt about it.

“Has he reached out?” Steve asked, treading lightly on the conversation.

I nodded. “He called me a few weeks ago to check in. He’s doing really well where he’s at. The young girl is helping him get his memories back.”

It was Steve’s turn to nod. “Shuri, she’s taking good care of him.”

Silence fell between us and I looked up to the sky, the large moon casting a glow over the skin of my face; Steve’s as well.

I didn’t want to admit it outloud but he looked absolutely breathtaking, especially with the long hair and beard.

“Does he know-?” Steve trailed off.

“About us?” I finally looked into his eyes.

When Steve nodded, I continued with a sigh. “Yeah but if I’m being honest, it’s been so long since Bucky and I were together that the love we shared isn’t the same as it used to be. We both agreed that although we love each other, we both needed to move on.”

He pulled his sweater closer to his chest, the sudden breeze causing us both to shiver.

“What about me?”

I was on my feet quickly as I walked back towards my house, not wanting to have this conversation with him.

“I’m not doing this, Steve,” I informed while walking past him.

“Doll, please,” He reached for me.

“Don’t,” I seethed while pulling my hand away. “You lost the right to call me that when you left me behind.” ‘

“I didn’t have a choice, Y/N. It was the only way to keep you safe,” Steve defended.

“I told you that I loved you that morning and that evening you were gone! If you never loved me all you had to do was say that.” I spat.

Steve ran a hand over his face with a loud sigh. “I did love you, sweetheart. I did it for you; for us.”

“You left me behind, Steve! When I needed you the most, you packed up and left! Who does that to someone they love, after everything we have been through!”

My screams could be heard miles away and there wasn't a doubt in my mind that Sam and Natasha had awoken, probably wondering what Steve and I had been fighting about.

“I was with you on that plane when you took it into the water, or did you forget?!”

Steve’s face twisted with sorrow. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget that day, Y/N. I blame myself every day that I allowed you to be on the ship. I thought I could have kept you safe.”

Tears pooled at the corners of my eyes. “We both went to sleep together that day, in the ice. We both woke up together, seventy years later. But you weren’t the only one that had to adjust!”

“I know, I should have been there for you,” Steve stepped towards me.

I stepped back from him. “The second you left, Fury took me under his wing, trained me to be his next assassin, something that I never wanted for my life. You didn’t want it for me either. But I didn’t have a choice. I needed to survive somehow!”

Steve parted his lips to speak but I continued to rant on, everything I had bottled up all these years finally spewing from my mouth.

“I was in this new world where nothing made sense so Fury used that to his advantage. I did things I’m not proud of and it gives me nightmares to this day which is why I had to get away. I needed to get far away from that life.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve apologized.

It went in one ear and right out the other.

“Why now? Why did you decide now to come back into my life? I was finally getting over you, settling into a life that wasn’t filled with death or heartbreak. Then you came back, looking like this, and it brought everything back,” I sobbed while motioning to his new look.

Steve inched closer to me. “We needed a safe space and I knew that Fury had some place set up for you where no one can find you.”

“So you only came to hide out, then what? Plan to make me love you again, fall into my bed, then leave before the sun comes up?” I accused with a hard gaze.

“That was never going to happen,” He reassured me. “I knew that if I were to come back to you that I would need to do whatever it took to make it up to you.”

I sucked in my lip. “Do you still love me?”

The question burned deep in my stomach, spewing out like vomit in wanting to know the answer.

“Never stopped.”

Steve didn’t hesitate his answer for a second.

The dormant butterflies sparked, their wings fluttering in my stomach slightly.

“Do you still love me?” Steve asked.

Before, I wanted to avoid this question with every fiber in my being because I never knew how Steve felt so now that I had his answer, I knew what to say.

“Never stopped.” I repeated his own words.

We shared a small smile but I held up my hand to stop Steve, who wanted to take a step towards me. Even though we admitted that we still loved one another and no matter how many times he apologized, I don’t think I was ready to forgive Steve.

Yet.

My bottom lip trembled as I let out a shaky breath. “You guys don’t have to rush out of here. Stay as long as you need. To be honest, the company will be nice. And maybe we can talk more about our future.”

“I’d like that,” Steve admitted, his voice breaking.

Giving Steve a final smile, I made my way back towards my bedroom, silently hoping that I wasn’t going to regret letting him not only into my home but back into my life.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers and reader #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers reader insert #captain america #nomad steve rogers #chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans and reader #marvel avengers

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buckgasms · 2 years

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So I’m here to answer your call for inspiration… hopefully lmao. I was re-reading your lumberjack Bucky headcanons and one that I randomly love is Bucky with a ponytail for some reason, we were so robbed of that by marvel 🥲. Anyway, the idea I had was Bucky normally only pulling his hair up into a ponytail when he wants to make out and/or eat the reader out so that it stays out of his face and the reader has a nice handle to hold on to. And sometimes he puts his hair up on purpose and makes a show out of the fact that his hair is in a ponytail to tease the reader. Maybe this could spark some inspiration? If not that’s 100% ok lmao

Omg Nonnie, Nonnie, Nonnie

You are speaking my goddam language and I love you for it. Thank you for this absolutely perfect inspo! Hopefully I've done you proud ❤️

If you would like your sin brought to life then hit me up fam

Also I really wanted to call this 'Bucky with the Good Hair'

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

He had tied it up. That was the signal. Plain and simple. If Bucky had his hair up you were going to be coming. No if's or but's about it. So why then was he taking his sweet ass time chatting to Steve at the bar about work or sport or something. Who cares, he wasn't buried between your legs and that's all that mattered.

Deciding to take matters into your own hands you sidled back up to Bucky, smiling along at whatever nonsense the two men were talking about. Your hand traced up Bucky's toned back until you subtly latched your fingers onto his ponytail and tugged ever so gently.

His arm reached around your waist pulling you into his body and he pinched your hip. A little reminder to behave. But still he didn't stop blathering. So you pulled again, a little harder, pleased to see a little wave of goosebumps on Bucky's neck. 'Haha gotcha' you thought as his grip on your waist tightened.

"Ok punk, we'll catch up tomorrow" said Bucky, finally, and you gave Steve a big hug goodbye. Your heart raced as you and Bucky left the bar and walked over to his pickup and you were full of excitement when he abruptly yanked you around and pinned you against the side of the truck.

"What's gotten into to you babydoll?" He muttered pressing kisses to your neck and pushing this thick denim-clad thigh in-between your legs, allowing you to press your aching heat against him.

"You did the hair thing" you pouted, stroking his beard with your thumbs and pulling his face into a sweet kiss. He chuckled as you continued to pepper his face with kisses, rubbing your heat against his jeans.

"What's the hair thing sweetheart?" He said, lifting the hem of your dress, providing him access to run his rough hands over your soft hips and tummy. You huffed and ground down again on him.

"Buckyyyy" you whined, making him chuckle again. "When you put your hair in a bun it means.....well you know..."

Oh he did know, but he was going to make you say it. He wanted to hear it from your pretty lips and then he'd give it to you.

"Hmm? What baby, what does it mean?" He growled as he felt your wetness seep into his jeans. You huffed again and pressed your forehead into the crook of his neck.

"When you put your hair up....it means your going to do something... Y'know, you...you make me come. You do it all the time, so you have to do it now" you felt almost like crying as the need for him began to rise to a head.

"Well if that's the rule..." He said pulling the door to the truck open and hoisting you inside "...who am I to break with tradition?"

You fell back on the long bench seat, as Bucky made quick work of pulling down your panties and bringing your dripping heat to his face. "You better hold on baby" he said as his big arms wrapped around your thighs. You fingers sank into his long locks and you pulled at his ponytail as his lips made contact. Your whines filled the cab as his tongue traced your folds until he wrapped his lips firmly around your clit.

Your back arched off the seat as he sucked harshly, fingers gripping at his hair and you cried out his name. "This all for me sweetness?" he growled as his finger dipped into your cunt, and his lips returned it's assault on your sensitive clit. "Yes Bucky, oh fuck yes, just for you" you moaned, chasing your orgasm as he added another finger and gently stroked at your most sensitive parts, creating an almost unbearable tension in your tummy.

"Fuck baby, taste so sweet, you gonna come for me? Give me a show?" He whispered as your desperate pleas filled his ears. He increased the pace of the 'come-hither' motion and expertly flicked his tongue over your clit. The tension in your stomach finally snapped, your climax hitting you enough to make you see white.

You slowly came back to the present, Bucky kissing your thighs before pulling your dress back down. You sat up and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, finding his lips waiting to be kissed by yours.

You heard a surprised noise as you both turned to see Steve walking to his truck in the parking lot with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face, "I thought you two left already?"

All you could do was bury your face and giggle into Bucky's chest as he told Steve to mind his own god damn business or he would wipe the grin off his face. With a few more "punks" and grumbles you waved at Steve as he pulled away bringing Bucky's attention back to you. "Take me home Lumberjack, I'm not done with you yet"

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #bucky smut #sebastian stan #lumberjack bucky #bucky barnes smut #masterlist #lumberbuck #request fic #request #anon

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legendary-raptor-trainer · 1 year

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Chris Pratt positivity post

Guardians of the galaxy vol 3 is out, I watched it aosta week ago on may 3, then on may 5 and since then I haven't recovered. Because, once again, after Iron man, I have to say goodbye to one of my most beloved hero team. The Guardians meant so much to me since I watched the movie in 2014. I entered that theater thinking the same like anyone else:This was going to be the first MCU failure. Who the hell would watch a movie with a talking raccoon and a talking tree?

I left that movie theater in awe. I discovered one of my other SI, my new obsession alongside Tony Syark: Peter Quill. Then I started having a crush on Pratt after watching him in Jurassic World the following year.

On May 3... I left the theater with that same awe but also bouncing in happiness because (SPOILER ALERT)...

Marvel told us the Legendary Star Lord will return.

At first I was just so excited because moments before that I saw one of my heroes leave the best MCU found family to make amends whit his past. He came back to death to love a normal life for a while. The team dissolved. I was in denial and heartbroken but then those words appeared on screen.

The following day the weight of what happened hit me. This was the last time I will see them in a movie theater, together, being direct by the genius of James Gunn. Who know, maybe one day another franchise surprise me and make me feel the same thing I felt while watching the Guardians of the Galaxy trilogy. But for now, this was the last time we see this actors under Gunn's direction for the MCU.

And man, I've been depressed, grieving a phase of my life, I save in my heart with fond memories of burying myself in fan fictions of the Guardians, of me reading and learning everything I could about Pratt and Peter Quill, and the following rolls he took in several movies.

I want to cry, want to hit my head because the feeling are overwhelming because I don't know what the future will be for Peter. Marvel confirmed us he is coming back but... Who will direct him? Who else aside from Gunn and Pratt, will honor and continue the work they have done with Quill? Haters gonna hate and will call me a fan boy but objectively, only few characters in the MCU are well written and have and amazing character arc. Tony Stark, Steve, Bucky, T Challa, and of course the Guardians. The rest, you can empathize with them but they don't feel evolved, I don't feel emotionally connected or understand their reasoning.

So someone else continuing the story of Peter Quill it's a big risk. And it makes me anxious, makes me feel overwhelmed with all my thoughts, makes me want to cry, scream or hit myself because I can't shut my mind and stop thinking about it.

Anyways, I'm talking gibberish right now and lost the point I wanted to make here.

Even if I feel a overwhelming amount of emotions, what makes me happy is that finally, after years of mostly finding post about people hating Christ or a small amount of content for the Guardians or Peter, now that the movie came out and it had moved everyone's heart and made us fall in love with this team again... I'm happy more people is posting and talking great things about the character, about the actor, the Guardians. Yeah, found a few Chris haters but I'm actually surprised some of them have actively admitted they're falling for him because of his hair and beard in the movie. Which I need to say is one of the cutest and hottest look Chris has ever have.

#chrispratt #i love chris pratt #i support chris pratt #i stand with chris pratt #peter quill #star lord #chris pratt stan #rocket raccoon #guardiansofthegalaxy #guardians of the galaxy 3 #guardians of the galaxy vol 3

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racheld93 · 1 year

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I posted 836 times in 2022

That's 96 more posts than 2021!

40 posts created (5%)

796 posts reblogged (95%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@lamberts

@saganarojanaolt

@nixie-deangel

@memes-saved-me

I tagged 836 of my posts in 2022

#fuck - 288 posts

#stranger things - 284 posts

#harringrove - 251 posts

#billy hargrove - 238 posts

#yes - 183 posts

#well this is gorgeous - 171 posts

#steve harrington - 167 posts

#the witcher - 151 posts

#geraskier - 149 posts

#jaskier - 137 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#then id imagine illya is so incensed that he angrily cuddles napoleon to where its hard for him to breathe and says he loves him constantly

My Top Posts in 2022:

Headcanon that childhood friends Billy and Argyle exchanged friendship necklaces.

Billy never takes his medallion off and Argyle rarely forgets to pull his owl pendant on every morning.

And when they see each other again, for the first time after Billy moving away, they both are still wearing them as they hug with tears in their eyes outside Max's hospital room.

Because Argyle has been mourning his best friend for eight months and Billy's been trapped in hell and believing he'd ever see another soul again.

Only it turns out Billy wasn't dead, not completely, and he wasn't in hell, just some hellscape dimension called the Upside Down. And when he heard the sound of heavy metal like a siren's call, he ventured out of his barricaded basement in Loch Nora and found some idiots trying to save the world without the proper equipment like his homemade flamethrower.

Their first words to each other after their long tight embrace are:

"Righteous beard and flowing hair my dude. You're like, pulling a white Jesus, with the whole resurrection and saving everyone."

"It's ten in the morning, you should not be this high without supervision."

Argyle grins and hugs Billy again, so tight the blond tries not to flinch from is ever aching and still recovering body.

"I missed you so much, Billiam."

Billy huffs and hugs back, eyes welling up again.

"Missed you too, Argie."

209 notes - Posted September 17, 2022

Want to know what really grosses me out in general and also about Stranger Things because I was born and raised in Indiana?

The age of consent is 16.

Yes you read that correctly.

Thats why in season one it 'wasn't made a big deal' that Jonathan took pictures of Nancy and Steve having sex.

And in season two it 'wasn't made a big deal' for Karen, a grown ass married woman, to flirt back with Billy, a kid thats the same age as her eldest child.

And in season three it 'wasn't made a big deal' when the Karen and Billy shit happened again no matter if he was freshly 18 or not, it still would have been legal as long as he was 16 or older. And I'm so glad they didn't put that shit on screen. Hate that Billy got flayed, hate that so much you have no idea. But I would have hated it even more if things had gone as they'd planned and Karen really did show up to have sex with a kid her daughter's age.

What I'm saying is, it was cool that a nostalgic show took place in my home state not too unlike a town I grew up in. But with choices the duffers made over the seasons, also including the subtle not so subtle implied rasicm and obvious homophobia and ignorant satanic paranoia and blatant child abuse (that all very much still happens today), it makes me think that the only reason they chose a conservative Midwestern state was so they could get away with writing all that bullshit.

And if it wasn't for some of the actors pushing for better dialog and situations and basically twisting their arms for different scenes and refusing to do others, this show wouldn't have lasted this long. Because we'd have been watching the same overused and small-minded stereotypes and tropes from decades ago and have stopped watching.

So, does learning the age of consent in Indiana make you even more aware of how many scenes in Stranger Things gives me the heebie jeebies?

Thought so.

220 notes - Posted August 17, 2022

Inspired by my other Dad Murray post... This is what I got so far. But I’m sure some of y’all can do better... and I take forever to write shit anyway so here is a taste...

What if... Post S3 Fix-It wherein Billy survived and everyone visits him in the hospital a lot and it is a lot. A few because they want to, some of them out of guilt or obligation at first but then they look forward to it. And while others go because they wish they could have helped Billy more while he was flayed, some not having known he was even possessed and others told about it too late.

Anyway, Murray is a common visitor, mostly crossing paths with Steve and Max and Robin, and that pot dealer and cheerleader that are Billy's friends but not 'in the know'. Billy has no fucking idea who he is at first until Murray starts talking and then never stops, his first words are:

"Hey kid, I'm Murray Bauman, investigative journalist and in the know about this whole shitshow. Really admire how you fought that gross as shit monster with your bare fucking hands. Anyway, I hear you have the highest GPA in Hawkins High history, tell me what you think about Ronald Reagan."

Billy blinks and then his face purses meanly, "Wish that fucker had aimed higher and got him in the face in '81. But then the bitch would have been revered a martyr and the fucking Republicans would be even worse. And since I survived, I still got a chance to piss on his grave one day."

Murray beams at him and pulls out contraband chocolate bars from his coat.

"Kid, you and I are gonna get along just fine." He breaks the Hershey bar into pieces and sits close so he can pop one in Billy's mouth after he nods. "Just let these melt, gotta get that hospital mush taste out of your mouth. Now, you wanna hear about what stupid shit Reagan has said recently? Or do you like crosswords?"

Billy sucks on the chocolate, the taste a marvelous change from everything previously. "I'm a sudoku guy, but I make crosswords my bitch."

"Excellent."

*Murray finds out about the abuse, beats the shit out of Neil and 'runs him out of town'. Then he takes all of Billy's stuff to his new place that is closer to Hawkins and tells Billy he's his kid now, so sign this and he'll take over Billy's insurance and help him with his school work until he can get back to classes. Billy cries and Murray hugs him and Billy cries some more.

Aug 9 '22

394 notes - Posted August 12, 2022

See the full post

1,416 notes - Posted September 3, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I've seen a lot of fics fixing Billy's home life and I've loved them all... Susan bettering herself and Neil getting arrested, Joyce taking Billy in as one of her own and being the mama bear he has always needed, Hopper adopting another child of abuse and protecting them both so fiercely that they help him grow from his own trauma too, I've even read rarer fics where Mrs Henderson or the Harringtons take him under their wing and help him be independent.

But where are the fics with Murray, crazy eccentric incredible karate fighting Murray, seeing the aftermath of this young boy fighting a monster with his bare fucking hands and surviving only to despair about the thought of finally being able to leave the hospital and go home? Where are the fics with Neil getting his ass handed to him and screamed at and frightened by a guy with crazy eyes and spit flying from his mouth with righteous fury? Where are the fics with Billy being seen and heard and protected and loved by a wonderful freak of a man that doesn't think twice about showing compassion and understanding and forgiveness and acceptance?

What I'm saying is, Murray Bauman may not be the first person you think of as parent material, but he'd certainly be a great one.

And he'd have no compunction about getting rid of the bastard before him. No one would ever find the fucking body.

2,248 notes - Posted August 9, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #with love r

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cadencejames87 · 30 days

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Hey! Hope you’re having an amazing day!🩵

Who are your top 3 favorite Sebastian Stan characters and top 3 favorite Chris Evans characters?

Why are my asks always hidden from me 😭 Sorry this took way too long to get to this.

You want me to choose, I want all of the Sebastian characters! I made a post once and had to reblog it because you're only allowed 10 images per post. After this, I'll have to re-reblog with more missing characters. First off, Tj, Jack, & Leo deserved so much better!

As did Bucky who will always be in my tops. That sweet, nerdy Pisces just wanted to keep the little guys safe and live his life in peace 😭😭

I usually say Frank because that era of Sebastian, the hair, the beard, it was fantastic! But I really couldn't handle anyone who enjoys 🌨️ which then also cancels out Mickey and is hilarious to say because all my morals are thrown out the window and I feel like I could somehow fix Steve Kemp, and Max. I'd be worried about Nick or Lance betraying me, which would also include the two I just mentioned; Steve & Max. I spent so long, scrolling back and forth through Sebastian's roles. I wanted to choose Hal but...

I think currently, God the Bounty Hunter is also in my tops. I want to see a whole movie based around these bounty hunters. You just know they've had run-ins with each other and it would be off the handle.

Jefferson, he just wants his daughter to have everything and when they are in the new "au" all he cares about is her happiness, even if he's literally going mad trying to get it all back.

As for Chris, I'm still mad at Steve lol

Ari is literally nomad Steve without the inevitable betrayal to Bucky. Plus this...

Harvard Hottie & Curtis are F*ck boys and I wouldn't have the patience to reach that sweet boyfriend payoff.

Frank, ugh, the sweetest uncle protecting his niece for his sister. Plus he's gorgeous & smart

Curtis & Nick Gant were always in my tops for the longest time, but characters like Jensen and his nerdy, humourous, loyal, family man, hero type won me over. I mean even the COD soldier in the one ad he did had me on my knees. Ransom, the same reason I couldn't choose Charles for Sebastian, assholes who only care about money.

I was literally about to type Andy but then remembered Cole, that sweet, awkward, farmer existed and I can't help but giggle when i think of him. He's adorably sweet! Plus he reads!

Thank you for this, Asks like these make my day!

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thorodinsson · 4 years

Photo

Eyes up, stay sharp.

CHRIS EVANS as STEVE ROGERS in AVENGERS: INFINITY WAR (2018)

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navybrat817 · 2 years

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Ari is a bad man. In a good way. Steve is bad. Maybe in a good way? It's the beard. Makes him dangerous.

Ari and Steve can do whatever they want to me. And this inspired something.

I'll Be Seeing You

Pairing: Spy!Ari Levinson x Female Reader , hint of dark!Steve Rogers x Female Reader Summary: Ari has to let you go until a threat gives him a reason to come home. Word Count: Almost 1.2k Warnings: Slight angst, break-up, adult themes, slight possessive behavior, Ari Levinson, (he is a warning) A/N: This may become a thing? I don't know. We'll see! Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Banners by the talented @vase-of-lilies . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Please reblog or comment as it means the world!

Ari Levinson was compromised. He didn’t know who betrayed him or why, but he would find out and make them pay. For the time being, he knew he would have to lay low and cut ties with those closest to him. That meant walking away from you.

"I don't understand," you said with watery eyes when he told you he had to leave town. And you.

He had a lot of low moments in his life, but breaking your heart was one that would forever haunt him. If you knew the truth, you would’ve foolishly followed him. That’s how much you loved him. And he would’ve followed you, too, if the roles were reversed because you were his entire world. “I just need to figure some things out on my own.”

“Is there someone else?” you asked as you struggled not to sob. Bile rose to his throat. He had to shut down that thought immediately. It would have been a permanent breach of trust and a lie he wouldn’t be able to come back from.

“No, Goldie. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Don’t call me that,” you snapped, furiously wiping your eyes. He gave you the nickname because, to him, it was like you were made of gold. Precious, illuminating and beautiful. “Please, don’t call me that if you’re walking away from me.”

He hated himself more as each second went by, wanting nothing more than to pull you into his arms and take it all back. “I’m sorry. This is the only way to keep you safe,” he whispered. He wasn’t even sure you heard him. That’s what he was told to say and he tried to fool himself into thinking it was true. It was a bullshit line. The safest hands were his own, even tainted with blood. “I do love you, even if you hate me now. Even if you think I'm a fucking asshole. You know I don't throw love around. I never have."

“Love means fighting for what you have and not letting go.”

“Love also means knowing when to walk away.”

Tears fell as you shut your eyes, your face crumbling. He couldn't remember the last time he cried, but he wanted to break down with you. "Ari, please."

“It isn’t forever. It's just for now,” he promised because he would be back for you. He stole one last kiss before he left, the taste of your confusion and sorrow on his lips. Each step felt lighter and heavier. Walking away would take the target off your back. It also meant being apart from you.

I’ll be back for you, even if it kills me.

Days turned into weeks which faded into months. He often had nightmares when he managed to sleep. They always ended in the image of tears streaming down your cheeks. Each time he reached out to touch you, blood dripping from his hands, you vanished. Leaving him alone as the waves pulled him under, surrounded by darkness.

When he woke up with sweat shining on his skin, he did his best to focus on the good memories with you. He smiled about the little things because you taught him to appreciate them. And he often thought of your lips, so soft and inviting. The way you smiled just for him or how pretty they looked wrapped around his cock.

Fuck, I miss you.

“She’s safe,” Rachel assured him. They were careful with who kept a watchful eye on you.

"She's okay?" he asked hopefully each time.

"She's safe," Rachel would say again. He could read between the lines. You were safe, but still hurt. He wondered if you hated him. No. You're not a hateful person, but that doesn't mean you'll wait for me. Or forgive me.

And it was always the same. He would get updates, simple and to the point. You were safe.

Until the day you weren't.

"She's not safe," Rachel told him, almost forgetting to breathe when she hung up. The ping of a message stopped him before he could call back. He went still as he opened the video, your face appearing on the screen. You were just as beautiful as he remembered, but he couldn't focus on the joy of seeing you alive and well.

Not when he saw Steve Rogers beside you.

People underestimated just how dangerous the former soldier and agent was. They took in his kind demeanor and handsome smile and assumed he was one of the good guys, even with how imposing he was. Ari wanted to kill him a long time ago, but was told that wasn't his mission to complete. Now he wished he would have put a bullet between his eyes.

What the fuck does he want with my Goldie?

His chest tightened as Steve leaned in close, almost throwing the phone. He went from heartache to rage when the blonde gripped your chin. You taught Ari warmth and love, but his eyes filled with fire as he kept watching. He didn't want to see another man kiss you. No one else had the right to touch what belonged to him.

His breath caught in his throat when you turned your head away, slowly exhaling. Thank fucking god. He could breathe a little easier.

"How many times are you going to turn me down?" Steve asked evenly, but Ari knew rage was simmering beneath the façade. "Hurts my feelings when you do that, sweetheart."

"I'm sorry, but I told you I have a boyfriend," you said.

That's right, Goldie. I don't give a shit if you're feeding him a line. I'm still yours and you're still mine.

Steve let go after a moment, but didn't take his eyes off you. "Funny how your boyfriend never seems to be around. Is he afraid to show his face?"

His jaw clenched when he heard you soft laughter through the speaker, his heart starting to pound. It was your fake laugh, one he only heard when you were uncomfortable. You didn't want Steve close to you. That put you in danger. "He isn't afraid of anything. You just always miss him. Bad timing, I guess."

Steve's fists clenched and unclenched. "Well, I hope to meet the competition one day," he said as he got to his feet. You looked uneasy as he stared you down and he wished like hell he could reach through the screen and strangle him. "Until then, I'll be seeing you."

The feed ended there, but anger continued to flow through his veins. He'd have to thank Rachel later for sending this after he made his way back to you. Compromised or not, Steve wanted you and he wasn't going to continue taking no for an answer. He had to protect you.

Is he the fucker that set me up?

He didn't know what kind of welcome you'd give him. He would probably have to throw you over his shoulder and carry you away for you to listen to him. You could be mad at him for breaking your heart. He could take your wrath and venom. Maybe he could even fuck the fury out of you.

But he wouldn't let Steve Rogers hurt you.

"I'll be seeing you, too, Goldie."

*****

Love and thanks!

#navybrat writes #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x female reader #ari levinson x you #ari levinson x y/n #ari levinson imagine #ari levinson fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #chris evans x reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x you

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wkemeup · 3 years

Text

The Only Kindness

summary: In the early days of Bucky’s captivity in Hydra, the only comfort he knows is the kindhearted doctor assigned to mend his wounds. At least when he's with her, he knows he isn’t alone. pairing: bucky x reader word count: 9.7k warnings: torture, canon level violence, unwanted sexual advances, hydra's attempts to brainwash bucky, hella angst, a/n: this is meant to sit in the world of canon and what we know eventually happens to Bucky at Hydra sooo do with that what you will. I am genuinely really proud of this one so I hope you can forgive me for the pain I cause

The first thing Bucky remembered every morning when the sting of florescent lights woke him in a cold sweat was that the arm attached to his shoulder was not his own. The realization of it hurt worse than the day before; with unforgiving metal seared into his skin, leaving behind bubbled scars and a revolting, oozing smell.

It weighed him down, slumped on his spine, pulled at his neck, and he struggled to even push himself upright. Sitting upon the thin mattress laid amongst an otherwise baron room, Bucky supposed he might have preferred the floor if not for the dark red stain at the center of the concrete.

Then, the familiar clicking of locks echoed against the walls and Bucky gritted his teeth as a stout man with rounded features and an arrogant grin strolled into the room – no, the cell – alongside two men strapped with rifles.

He clutched to the solid metal of his arm as if holding it might take the pressure off his shoulder, might subside the pain as it spread through his veins, or stop the twitching in his cheek as he tried to stifle the pain, but it was no use. He held on anyway in favor of wrapping a hand around the scientist’s throat.

“Ah, good morning, Sergeant Barnes,” Zola greeted, though there was something unpleasant in his tone. A threat, perhaps. A taunt. It was always something of the sort.

Bucky could barely muster the energy to look the man in the eye, but as he did, it was hidden under a dark, loathing glare. He spat on the floor by Zola’s feet.

“Go to hell.”

Zola jumped back and brushed at the toe of his shoe. It was amusing, at least, to see the rage boil in the man’s chest; all red faced and round and steaming from the ears. Though Bucky’s triumph was shorted lived as Zola waved a single hand at the armed guards beside him.

They lunged forward and with heavy hands, clawed Bucky into their grip by his biceps. He met concrete within seconds; the red stain laid beneath him. His knees barely had time to heal from the day before and they stung as he struggled under the guards’ grasp, raw skin and blistering burns shielded by paper thin fabric.

His face was pushed down into the stone and for a strange moment there was relief; it was cool to the touch, a break from the feverish heat on his brow.

But then, while a guard pinched at the nape of Bucky’s neck, nearly choking the air straight out of him and the other jabbed a knee to his spine, he remembered there was no relief within Hydra.

“You have a long day ahead of you,” Zola announced, a smirk growing upon his face as Bucky let out a hollowed whine. It slipped past his lips before he could smother it down. He knew then that he had lost whatever game they were playing; the win-lose of a man in chains to his captors with scalpels in their hands and venom on their tongues.

He didn’t know how long it had been since the fall; since icy waters and plummeting down to a ravine he wished most nights had swallowed him whole. He didn’t know how many times he was cut open in an unsterilized room, thrown onto a rusting metal table and operated on with cheap anesthetic. He didn’t know how many times he was strapped into a chair that set fire to his veins and left him feeling numb and empty, how many times he felt a lingering sense of dread he couldn’t quite place.

He didn’t know much at all, really.

But he knew his name. He knew his serial number. He knew Steve would come for him like he did before. He knew he’d get through this. He had to. He didn’t have a choice.

“We have much to do,” Zola announced, admiring how Bucky’s face pressed down into the concrete, how the prickles in the stone scraped against his cheek and cut at his skin— pleased to see a man brought to his knees, bowing before the greatness of Hydra. It brought Zola a sense of pride whether the Sergeant resisted or not. He would give in soon enough.

The guards didn’t loosen their grip on Bucky’s arms as they yanked him back to his knees. They didn’t give him a chance to stand either before they started to drag him from the cell.

The grip on his right arm was sure to leave bruises behind, ones to accompany the mess of blue and purple coloring his skin, but it was the pain on his left that rendered him paralyzed. It felt like his arm was being ripped straight from his body, pulled at every nerve ending until they snapped. He could hardly move.

It wasn’t until Zola made a sharp left at the end of the hall that a familiar sense of dread dropped into Bucky’s stomach. Whether it was fear, panic, resilience, he wasn’t sure, but he started to fight back as they neared a dark red door with six locks running up the side.

“No,” he gaped, barely a whisper, but it caught Zola’s attention.

Bucky thrashed in the men’s grip, using his weight as leverage despite the searing pain in his shoulder and the blood trickling down his ribs from where metal fused to flesh. His heels dug into the concrete, trying to catch against the wall to slow them down, to stop what he knew was coming.

Zola merely smiled.

It was no use, and perhaps Bucky knew that from the start, but he couldn’t be strapped into that chair without a fight. He still didn’t know its purpose but he knew it brought him pain. It disoriented him, made him forget his own name and the monsters that chained him. It forced him to remember all over again that he was held prisoner, thousands of miles away from home, presumed dead, and he couldn’t -- he couldn’t do it anymore.

“Please,” Bucky gasped and it sounded foreign in his own voice – broken. He hated it. He despised how his voice cracked, how he fell to his knees in front of his captors and begged.

Zola grabbed a firm hold of Bucky's chin, stump fingers digging into his cheeks and demanding attention. As he pulled in closer, Bucky caught sight of something strange in the reflection of Zola’s glasses.

He didn’t recognize the man staring back at him; hair grown and wild, unkept beard on his face, dirt and blood covering most of his skin. Amongst the scratches in the glass and the clouds of dirt, the reflection of the man looked tired, with hallowed eyes and sunken cheeks. He wasn’t strong enough to fight back. He wouldn’t survive if he tired.

Bucky slumped in the guards’ arms.

“That’s what I thought,” Zola jeered, a lingering chuckle etched into the trail of his voice. He waved a hand at the guards and Bucky was placed into the chair, all dead weight and positioned like a doll.

Thick, metal bars strapped down around Bucky’s wrists, his biceps, his ankles to hold him in place. He did his best to let go of himself, to find somewhere far beyond the walls of this room, away from the men who ripped him to pieces and broke him to the bare bones. He imagined something better, safer, where he was clean shaven and in fresh clothes, where Steve was waving from the end of the street and the war long behind them, but the dream was torn from him as soon as the panels clamped against his temples.

Electricity jolted through his system and his whole body tensed. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

But he could scream.

It ripped through his lungs and he was certain he’d break straight through the mouth guard and shatter his teeth if they didn’t turn off the machine soon. The sound echoing through the room was strained, broken, and Bucky might have mistaken it for nails to a chalkboard if he didn’t feel the burn in the back of his throat.

He started to lose time, unsure if it was on for seconds or hours. It was blinding. It was all-consuming. It was swallowing him whole.

“Enough!” a voice broke through. A woman’s. It wasn’t one Bucky recognized.

“No, keep it on! He can take more.” Zola.

“Are you insane!” the voice shouted again. “You’ll kill him!”

Let them.

The thought startled Bucky but it slipped from him in the seconds it took to arrive; searing pain, white hot fire washing through every muscle down to his bones. His eyes began to flutter closed, a strange sort of emptiness pulling him under, a darkness he couldn’t place, and he welcomed the escape.

There was yelling again, though this time it was coming was across the room. The machine began to power down, the whirring sounds of electricity in his ears leaving him with a numbing silence. The dizziness took hold, the hollowness, and he was surprised to find a woman staring back at him, her hands wrapped around the lever that pulled him from the fire.

“What the hell are you doing!” Zola roared, accent thick and slurring his words together. He bounded forward, attempted to push past the woman but she held her ground, hands planted on her hips.

“I’m saving his life,” she grunted back, unfazed by Zola’s finger pointing up into her face. She swatted it away, ignoring the shock upon his rounded features. “You brought me here for a reason, didn’t you? Let me do my damn job.” She glanced around the room, eyed the men with guns aimed at the ready, barrels trained in her direction. “Give me the room.”

“Not going to happen,” Zola snapped but quickly silenced as she shot him a glare that had him cower several steps in retreat. His cheeks were burned red.

The woman turned back to the man in the chair and he slumped limply in its clutches, her narrowed eyes centering on the rapid rise and fall of his chest. She held up two fingers, eyeing him carefully before she slowly moved to press them against his throat.

He winced before she could even touch him, flinching at the air itself, and she paused, bringing her hand back to her chest. She gave him a minute to watch as she demonstrated what she was trying to do by pressing the tips of her fingers to her own neck.

She tried again and this time she held his stare; calming aura nestled between the vibrant shades in her eyes, a gentle kind of patience he didn’t expect, and he hardly noticed her fingertips against his skin as she felt for his pulse, feather light and paper thin. They were cool to the touch, a comfort in the burning heat of metal surrounding him and he caught himself before he could lean into her palm.

“His heart rate is through the roof,” she said tensely, turning back to Zola and withdrawing her hand. “Unless you want your multi-million-dollar project to go to waste, clear out before he has a goddamn heart attack.”

Zola eyed her suspiciously in what appeared to be a competition of wills. She straightened her back, arms folding over her chest, and she towered over the scientist’s small frame. He glared up at her and the fury was palatable on his face; upper lip twitching, eyes narrowed, hands curling into fists.

She held her ground.

“Fine,” Zola grumbled, waving a hand to the line of men behind him until they bring their weapons down to their sides. “Give the doctor the room.”

As if she were waiting for the men to leave, she exhaled a breath like she had been holding it for quite some time. When she let her hands come back to her sides, puncture marks were left in her palms.

“I’m leaving a man behind for your safety,” Zola threw over his shoulder at he reached the door, almost like a threat.

She swallowed; jaw clenched. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Maybe not today, but it will be.”

Then, he was gone.

The door locked shut behind him and a single guard remained by the door, positioned with his finger on the trigger.

“Finally,” she exhaled, turning back with a gentle smile on her face that felt almost unsettling to be in such a cold and unforgiving place. “Can you tell me your name, soldier?”

“Uhh,” was all that left his lips and he hardly recognized his own voice. He searched in the back of his head for the answer, felt it on the tip of his tongue, and still… nothing. He glanced back up at her with clenched teeth because he knew what would happen next, what always happened next.

But instead of a harsh hand to the side of his face or the blunt edge of a weapon to his crown, she nodded, offered him a sad sort of smile, and simply said, “that’s alright.”

She glanced down at the clamps restraining him to the chair. His skin was raw underneath, bleeding a little, and she frowned. It crinkled up into her forehead, pursed out at her lips, and he decided he liked it much better when she smiled.

“Your name is Sergeant James Barnes,” she said fondly and it sounded familiar as she said it, but it still felt distant— wrong in some way. She seemed to notice the contemplation on his face. “It’ll come back to you soon. Might take longer than the last time, but it will. They haven’t perfected the science of the chair yet, it seems.”

There was a resentment laced into her words as she glared back at the armed man standing guard with disgust. She softened as she turned back to face the man she called James. It was within that moment the anger washed from her features, a kindness replacing the hatred, and she ran her fingers on the edge of the chair before she pulled away.

“I’m going to undo these, okay?” she told him and he was surprised that she waited for his nod before adjusting the mechanics on the machine until the metal snapped open and a rush of cold air swept against the blistering skin. He hissed at the sting of it.

“Come,” she requested, gesturing to the examination table in the corner of the room. “Let’s get you out of this thing, huh?”

He was thankful for that. He couldn’t stand the sharp edges anymore or the blistering heat of the arm rests. Her touch was so gentle he wondered if it could push right through him as she bent down to help tug his right arm over her shoulders.

Just as she nearly had him positioned well enough to get him to his feet, the guard standing in the corner of the room stepped forward, gun raised.

“I wouldn’t do that, ma’am.”

She clenched her jaw. “I’m fine. Let me work.”

“He’s dangerous,” the guard grunted back.

“He’s not going to hurt me,” she argued. There wasn’t a trace of hesitancy in her voice, even as she turned to the man hanging off her arms. “Are you, Sergeant Barnes?”

He shook his head.

“See?” she gestured. “Now leave us be.”

The guard stepped back, lowered his weapon, and she smiled.

“Alright then, James,” she started, “think you can help me get you to that table over there? I know you’ve lost some muscle mass but you’re still pretty heavy.”

A short ghost of a laugh escape as he let himself lean on her shoulder, allowing her to guide him towards the table. It surprised him as it left his chest, the feeling of laughter, because he hadn’t so much as smiled since the fall. It hurt, almost. But it was a nice kind of hurt.

She helped him sit on the table, just high enough to give her decent leverage, and he spotted a bag filled with what appear to be medical supplies. It contained with what he would expect; a stethoscope, bandages, depressors, but there were also needles, and shiny metal tools that made him clench his hands around the lip of the table.

“I’m a doctor,” she said, noticing his stare. “I won’t hurt you.”

“Zola’s a doctor,” he muttered back feebly, sharp images of lying awake on a cold, metal table much like the one he currently sat upon plagued his mind, memories of scalpels in his shoulder and needles in his arms.

She nodded, contemplating what he said before she frowned and countered, “Zola’s a mad scientist with a God complex.”

A smile tugged at his lips. It broke a little, but it remained.

“You can call me Y/n if you like,” she said as she began digging through her bag. She found the stethoscope and placed the ends in her ears. “I’m going to press this to your chest, alright? It might be a little cold.”

She exhaled a breath on the side of it for a moment to try and warm it, rubbing it with the palm of her hand. He was mesmerized by the small details; how she positioned herself strategically between him and the armed guard behind her, how she told him exactly what she was doing before she did it, how she gave him time to prepare, how she hadn’t once touched him without asking first.

He didn’t understand her or why she was here, but he was thankful.

He nodded at her and she leaned in closer, pressing the piece to his sternum. It had a slight chill to it but he could still feel the warmth left behind from her breath. He took a deep breath in as she instructed. She took her time, slowly moving to his ribs, and then his back. He took more deep breaths, felt the pulsing of his heart steady under her touch.

“Looks good all things considering,” she told him. Her eyes drifted to the burn marks on his right wrist, fingers ghosting over the reddened marks and her lips tug down into a frown. She masked it as she faced him again, pushing out a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Might as well attend to this, too, don’t you think?”

Yeah, might as well.

He offered her his hand.

He sat quietly while she worked, listening to her hum softly under her breath. She was impossibly gentle with him, so delicate he could hardly feel it until it was gone. Her hands were a little cold but he found them soothing against the burns. The alcohol she placed on the wound stung, made him grit his teeth and grip to the table’s edge, but she moved quickly, wincing at the way he sucked in a harsh breath as if his pain meant something to her.

When she was finished, she wrapped his wrist with a bandage from her bag and gently tapped on his knee.

“Not a lot my patients would have sat still through that without some kind of numbing agent,” she grinned, praise in her voice, smile on her lips, and it sent a flutter through his chest. “You did good, James.”

He didn’t want to tell her that he’d known worse, that the pain of alcohol to his wounds was nothing in comparison to the mutilation on his arm or the electricity of the chair. So, he focused on something else, a distant memory edging its way back to the surface, something that didn’t lie within the pages of Hydra’s files.

“Bucky,” he choked out, voice a little dry. She raised an eyebrow. “My name… it’s Bucky.”

She smiled at that.

“Bucky,” she repeated, testing it on her lips, “it’s nice to meet you.”

***

It wasn’t the last time he saw Y/n.

No, he found himself under her care more days than not. It was a simple system, it seemed. Hydra would do its best to break Bucky to pieces and they’d send in Y/n to stitch him back up; glue him together with needle and thread or scotch tape and paper mâché. She did her best to heal him and while she could not cure every wound on his body, she gave him something he didn’t have before – something to look forward to.

A kind smile. A gentle hand. A voice so soft it nestled deep into his chest and warmed the hollow ache that had made a home by his heart.

Even through the pain, through the chair, through the long hours he spent overworked in a boxing ring, he knew she’d be waiting on the other side. It didn’t hurt as much when he thought of her, he realized – the only kindness he knew within Hydra.

They hadn’t attempted to use the chair on him in a while and for that he was grateful. To save him from the pain of the electricity and the emptiness that followed, but lately, to allow him to hold onto her memory. He didn’t want to forget her name, her kindness, her light within the darkest corners of hell.

He only ever saw her in short glimpses, brief moments when the guards pushed the boundaries too far and cracked open a scar that wouldn’t stop bleeding or dislocated his arm again or fractured another bone. They’d drag her into his room, rough hands on her wrists that made a knot form deep into Bucky’s stomach, and give her minutes to work before they hulled her away.

He healed quickly, he came to find. Certainly faster than he should. Maybe in another world he would have been pleased with this. A perfect soldier. Always ready for battle.

In this world, it meant shorter recovery between trainings. It meant pushing him beyond his limits and testing the extent of his newfound abilities. It meant few and distant meetings with the kind doctor whose smile made it impossibly difficult to despise every last ounce within Hydra.

***

A few weeks since their first meeting, Bucky found himself dragged by his wrists on a familiar path into what looked like a room much like his own, only there were a few small comforts inside; a bed, a desk, a lamp, and a series of books piled on a small dresser.

Y/n jumped up from the desk, pen falling to the concrete as she stared back at the guards, agape. “What the hell did you do to him?!”

They dropped Bucky to the ground, his own arms too weak to hold himself up, and felt the harsh crack of concrete to his jawline. Blood dripped down into his eyes, clouding his vision with crimson pools of red, but he could hear the quick patter of your bare feet as you slid down to the floor beside him, shooing away the guards.

Hands ghosted over his shoulders before you paused, watching the way he sighed into the cool embrace of concrete. She glared back up at the guards, waiting on their answer.

“He’s weak,” one of the guards spat, thick accent spewing down to land on Bucky’s bare skin. “The fist of Hydra is an embarrassment. He crumbles under pressure. He needs to be pushed, to be taught what he is.”

Bucky couldn’t quite register the way her hands curled up into fists or how a harsh exhale burned deep in her chest, but she swallowed it the best she could as she muttered, “get out.”

A toe nudged at Bucky’s leg – one of the guards behind him – and he groaned as it dug into a dark purple bruise from the days before.

“You’ve done enough,” she pressed again, swatting away his leg as he tried to push Bucky over to his back to see his good work. "Now leave.”

“You don’t give us orders, princess,” the other guard smirked, yellowed teeth bared.

“We’ll be back for him soon,” the first one said, nudging his friend to stand down. “Make sure he’s ready to go again tomorrow.”

The door slammed shut and within the echo, Bucky felt the cool touch of a breeze nestle against his skin. It was a relief, as kind as the concrete, that sat in sharp contrast to the burning heat on his skin.

“Are you alright, Sergeant Barnes?” an angelic voice called. It sounded muffled, and a bit distant, but it was one he recognized.

He nodded slowly, though the concrete scratched at his skin.

“You don’t look alright,” she countered, a touch of lightness in her tone and it came as a welcomed relief.

“You kidding? I look great,” Bucky teased, half muffled by the ground. She laughed, pressing a hand over her lips, and Bucky swore for the smallest of moments that all the pain had washed from his body completely.

He could hear her riffling around the room, gathering supplies and laying a blanket down by his side, then a pillow. She was talking to herself, words he couldn’t quite hear or understand, but they were a comfort nonetheless.

"Still with me Sergeant Barnes?"

“Bucky,” he grumbled, just as she came down to kneel beside him again. “S’my name, remember? I’m supposed to be the one with the memory problems here.”

There came that laugh again, though she tried to suppress it. “That’s not very funny, Bucky.”

“Give me an ounce of humor here, doll,” Bucky smirked. It ached in his lips where the split tore through, burned in his cheeks from the swelling on his face, but he didn’t mind. It wasn’t often he had much reason to smile these days. She seemed to bring it out of him.

Y/n smiled, shaking her head. “Think you can turn onto your back? I’ve got some cushioning here for you. I’m sorry I can’t lift you to the bed.”

“Nah, this is perfect.”

Bucky summoned as much strength as his body could muster as he pushed down into the concrete with his right hand. He started to shake as pressure burned into his left shoulder and he gritted his teeth, face contorting in a wash of pain as his smirk faded away in an instant.

She must have noticed because her hands slipped gently onto his right bicep, gently easing him to turn over the metal shoulder and lay onto his back. Her touch was so feather light, he questioned for a moment if it was even there at all, but then he felt a soft squeeze, the cool press of her palms, and he sighed.

Her hands were the only ones who did not mean him harm. She healed. She nurtured. She cared.

“What are they doing to you...”

Her voice was hardly a whisper, the shock on her face evident enough of the damage on his own. He didn’t want to imagine what he looked like, but he knew it was bad. It hurt to speak, hurt to even part his lips, and his vision was tunneled and dark, cast over in shadows, and somehow, she was still clear as day.

“Dunno,” he responded, recognizing the slur in his voice. “Training me for something, I think.”

She stilled; muscles rigid as she reached into her bag for something to bandage his wounds. He could see the contemplation on her face, the worry, but she swallowed it back, pushed out that gentle, reassuring smile he’d come to rely on and began to work on the cut along his cheekbone.

“It can’t be anything good, Bucky,” she said quietly, eyes flickering to the door as if she were worried about what laid on the other side. He knew the feeling well.

***

He forgot her for the first time a few days later.

The scars were starting to heal; the gashes open on his face just days before nothing but a thin discoloration on his skin. He knew the look on Zola’s face as he emerged in his cell that morning - smug and grim, eager to wipe away the decorated prisoner of war and turn him into something empty and broken. The smirk that crept up his face was unsettling, jarring, as it crinkled lined into his forehead and a vile look in his eye.

They slammed him down into the chair, locked the restraints into place, and he only spotted her rush into the room as the machine powered on. The horror in her eyes as she met his, the quick transition to rage as she turned to Zola, and the pain took over until it consumed him whole.

He lost some time because the next thing he knew, he was sitting on a metal table and the room had emptied, save for a single guard standing in the corner over the shoulder of a beautiful woman who eased a soothing gel onto the burns on his wrist.

He studied her as she worked, quietly humming to herself, telling him what she was doing before she dared to touch him in a voice so gentle it startled him. It was familiar, he realized, the delicate intricacies of her tone, the warmth in his chest when she touched him. He wasn’t afraid of her like he was the others. He didn’t flinch under her touch.

“Your heart rate is still pretty high,” she noted, her fingers pressed to the inside of his right wrist. “Can you take some deep breaths for me?”

She embellished her own, chest rising high as she inhaled, air blowing out from her mouth in the exhale. She nodded for him, something encouraging and kind, until he followed suit. But even through the tender smile upon her lips there was a sadness there, a disappointment, and it hurt him deep into his chest.

“I know you, don’t I?” he finally said after he mimicked a few of the breaths as she requested.

She smiled at that and he felt an instant relief. Something warm and gentle. Kind.

He narrowed his eyes upon the slight curve of her lips, drawing up to her eyes where he was met with a linger sense of calm, of peace, of reprieve. “Why don’t I remember you?”

She sighed, a cautious glance back at the guard behind her who seemed to be watching with the intent to overhear. Her eyes were downcast, a nervous brush of her tongue over her lower lip, and she pushed out a smile for him.

“You will, Bucky.”

He hoped that were true.

***

Bucky was barely tied together with string and tape, broken and bleeding and covered in bruises, and yet, a smile etched onto his broken lips as he turned to find Y/n stumbling into his cell. She shrugged off the grip of a guard with an aggravated huff before he slammed the door closed behind her.

She was no longer shocked by the state in which she often saw him. His accelerated healing made the brutal look of his mutilation a bit easier to swallow he supposed or perhaps he was getting used to it. It was like a mask he’d come to wear, fading in and out depending on the day, but always present. It didn’t seem to lessen the pain in her eyes as she sat down beside him, extending a hand towards his face to touch gently at the markings.

“I hate that they keep doing this to you,” she said softly, though there was a rage nestled into the crook of her tone. She shook her head, a tense breath exhaled as she reached into her bag. She pulled out a few swabs of gauze and alcohol wipes.

“M’alright,” Bucky slurred and it didn’t seem to help his case.

“They’re monsters.” Y/n dabbed at the gash on his forehead as gingerly as she could manage. Bucky didn’t mind the sting of it, not when she was touching him so tenderly, like she was handling something precious.

He’d figured out a while ago that she was just as much a part of Hydra as he was. He never dared to ask, but he’d seen the way she looked at Zola, how she despised him as an enemy. He’d seen the clothes she wore and how they were tattered on the seams, how they discolored with use, how she'd wear them over and over again while the men in the room wore pristine lab coats and freshly laundered suits. He’d seen the dark circles under her eyes, the knots in her hair, the way her collarbone began to protrude the longer he knew her.

She was a prisoner of Hydra, too.

“They’re monsters,” Y/n repeated, tears burning in her eyes and it warped deep into Bucky’s gut. He wanted to reach out and wipe them away. He wanted to make her smile again because she’d been nothing but a light for him and now, she was flickering and fading and he was certain it would destroy him completely until she uttered, “and... and so am I,” and his whole world fell apart.

“No,” Bucky shot back almost instantly. “Don’t say that. You’re not one of them.”

“I might as well be,” she said, brushing at the tears as they spilled down her cheeks. “I’m still complicit in what they’re doing to you – whatever that is. I’m still helping them.”

“They’d kill you,” Bucky argued. “They’d kill you if you tried to resist.”

“They’re practically killing you now! How is that any better?” She pressed her palms to her face, shielding herself from him and Bucky slid down onto the floor, kneeling on the concrete in front of her, and gently rested his hands on her knees. She struggled to catch her breath between the sobs. “I keep fixing you up just to send you back out there and—and—Bucky, I feel like I’m handing you over to slaughter and I can’t-- I can’t--”

“Stop, please,” Bucky begged. He could feel the splinter nestle into his heart, cracking at the edges as it tore a sliver down the center. It burned and ached and threatened to rip him to pieces worse than the foreign metal on his arm, worse than the guards on the other side of the door, worse than the chair that stole his name and his memories, because the woman who saved his life over and over again was crying and he simply couldn’t take it.

“Look at me,” he eased, drawing his hands up her thighs, along her arms, until he met her hands resting against her face. Gently, he pried his fingers under her palms and when he was met without resistance, he pulled them away from her face. “You are the only shred of good within this place. You are the only kindness I’ve known since they threw me on that table and remade me. You are the only thing keeping me going when they’re beating me within an inch of my life, the only thing I want to remember when they try to take away everything I know. Please, don’t think for a second that you’re one of them. You’re saving me, Y/n.”

Bucky wondered for a moment if he said too much as her lips parted into shock, her eyes staring at him shocked and wide. Her breaths were coming in slow and steady as she watched him, almost as if she were waiting for him to recant, but he held his ground.

“You are good, Y/n,” Bucky continued. He squeezed her hand in his right, letting his left fall down to his side to shield her from the evil from which it was born. “You're the reason I keep coming back.”

“I’m scared, Bucky,” she exhaled, voice so low, so shaken, he could barely hear it. She squeezed his hand back. “I’m scared of what they're going to do to you.”

“I’ll have you, won’t I?” he smiled, because it was all he had left. There were no guarantees, no promises he could make to ease her fears. “As long as I’ve got you with me, I’m okay.”

He just wanted her to smile again, to be the woman who fought against Zola in a crowded room of armed Hydra agents and won, who was fearless in the face of evil, and gentle and kind in her touch.

Bucky realized that the more time he spent with her, the more she’d grown to care for him, the more he’d found himself missing her— the more dangerous they were to one another. If Hydra knew...

“You have me,” she said suddenly, a stroke of confidence returning to her voice, drawing Bucky’s attention away from the door and the men that laid beyond it. Bucky met her eye and she raised a palm to his cheek, slow and steady, always giving him the time to prepare before she touched him even when it wasn’t necessary, even after he’d grown to trust her above anyone else. She cupped the side of his face, smiling sweetly for him, sadly, as she said, “as long as they’ll let me, Bucky. You’re not alone. You’ll have me.”

Her thumb traced over old scars she’d mended, over raised edges and dried blood from the mess left behind by the dozen Hydra agents he’d met earlier that day. The tenderness within her touch was unlike anything he knew how to quantify. It sat in such contrast to the hands of men who battered and beat him within an inch of his life, to the torture of the chair, to the scalpel in the hands of mad scientists with god complexes.

There was something in her touch. Something that felt a lot like love.

Bucky found himself leaning in closer, wanting to close the space between them because any space at all was simply too much. He wanted to engulf her into his arms, protect her from the evils that waited for them outside these walls, take her away to somewhere warm and safe, somewhere she didn’t have to check over her shoulder when she smiled. It terrified him how badly he wanted it because he knew there were no fantasies in Hydra, no dreams, no happy endings. He knew it would be taken from him eventually, she would be taken from him, but it didn’t stop him from clinging on as tight as he could.

His lips touched hers, broken and splintered, and still, beautiful. He could taste the salty tang of her tears against her lips, her fingers curling around his long, unkempt hair and twisting along his scalp, breathing him in. There was a sanctuary within her arms, under her touch, that seemed impossible within these walls, and yet, here she was.

Tangible. Real. Kissing him as if he could be ripped from her at any second.

And he was.

The door swung open and Bucky jolted away from her. Y/n jumped back against the bed frame, her head hitting the cement wall.

In the frame of the door stood a guard Bucky had become familiar with; blonde, broad, reminded him a bit of Steve if it weren’t for the cold, dead look in his eyes. The burn mark across his jawline helped to obstructed the similarities.

The guard’s eyes lingered a little longer on Y/n, focusing on the quick rise and fall of her chest, the slight swell in her lips, the mess in her hair, before he gritted his teeth and turned to Bucky.

“Times up, Soldat,” he grunted, wasting no time as he pulled a wand from his belt, flipped a switch at the end, and burned the jolts of electricity into Bucky’s side. He barely registered the desperate crack in Y/n’s voice as she begged for the guard to stop.

Then – darkness.

***

“We need to be more careful.”

“They’ll find out how I feel for you and they'll hurt you.”

“I can’t lose you, Bucky.”

He couldn’t get the words out of his head. Familiar voices: a man’s and a woman’s. He’d heard them spoken aloud; of that he was certain. But they were distant, far away, as if he’d heard them uttered on a film screen in passing. They couldn’t be his own memories. He was a blank slate. He was empty.

A woman stood across from him, approaching him slowly as the machine powered down. It was loud in his ears, echoing enough to pulse tremors into the back of his head. He didn’t dare show an ounce of the pain he felt. He’d come to know the consequences of that, even if he couldn’t quite remember what they were.

“I’m going to help you to the table, alright?” the woman said, gesturing to the metal desk to her left. There it was again— that familiarity.

She smiled kindly at him, as if looking into the face of a man she knew, but he did not know her. She must have sensed his hesitancy because she held up her hands out for him to see.

“I just want to examine you. Make sure you’re okay. Can I do that?”

He narrowed his eyes on the woman, listening intently to her heartbeat. It was a strange sound, one he shouldn’t be privileged to hear, but he found the skill useful. He could listen for the inflections in the rhythm, pulse points and skips that told him when a person was lying.

Hers was steady. Even. He nodded.

He was surprised at how easily he allowed her to guide him to the table, how he didn’t question as he let her place a hand on his inner wrist to check his pulse, how he didn’t flinch when she approached the scars on his shoulder. It was like he knew the routine, understood the subtle intricacies in her gestures warning him of what she was about to do before she even laid a hand on him.

A relief was evident in his muscles. He felt a calmness wash over him the longer she stood at his side, recording his vitals, running a hand soothingly along his arm. It seemed personal, the way she touched him, like she was preserving something – or guiding something home.

He wanted to ask her name, why she was treating him so kindly when all he knew within these walls was the cruelty of violent men, when the guard who stood at the back corner of the room cleared his throat.

“You almost done, sweetheart?” The guard spat the pet name like an insult and the kind woman standing beside the Soldier flinched. She tensed quickly after that, mustering out a brave face as she turned back to the armed guard defiantly.

“I’ll be done when I’m done, Bronski.”

The Soldier wanted to smile, though he wasn’t sure why. A swell of pride beamed in his chest as Bronski’s smirk dissipated, replaced with something colder, darker; a bruise to his ego. The woman turned back to the Soldier, exhaled a heavy breath and offered him a short smile; calming, reassuring. The edges of his lips started to curve in response until –

Bronski crossed the room in four long strides, grabbed a tight hold of her arm and yanked her swiftly away from the Soldier. She collided against his chest, caged against him under the firm hold of his grip.

“You think you can mouth off to me, bitch?” Bronski sneered, shoving her against the desks at the far side of the room. Viles of serums and chemicals spilled over at the impact, glass shattering, and the Soldier began to stand from his position across the room, his hand curling into fists.

“Stop looking at him! He’s not going to help you,” Bronski taunted as her eyes flashed back at the Soldier, pleading at some unknown force he couldn’t quite understand, though he listened to its call. Bronski towered over her, easily overpowering her frame, and pinned her to the wall.

The Soldier took another step forward, another inch closer to what he was sure were near fatal consequences, but there was a voice screaming in the back of his head, an instinct he couldn’t drown out, a desperate need to protect a woman he didn’t know.

“You think we didn’t notice, huh?” Bronski growled, his hand sliding down her side, tracing over the curves at her waist and the Soldier felt a sudden twist in his stomach, a dead weight sinking him into the ground at the sight. “You think we can’t tell you got it hot for the asset? He’s weak. Pathetic. Why don’t you try being with a real man instead? I’ll show you a good time, princess...”

Her eyes were on the Soldier, holding his gaze though she was shaking; trembling and afraid. He didn’t like that.

“Get away from her.”

Bronski froze. He managed a slow glance over his shoulder to find the Soldier standing just a few feet away, hands clenched at his sides, fuming as his eyes flickered between the Hydra agent and the woman he held pinned to the wall.

“Don’t be a fucking hero, Soldat,” Bronski spat back.

But the Soldier did not move.

“Get away from her,” he repeated, his voice low, mechanical. He could feel the rush of adrenaline building in his veins, the chaos of the rapid thumping of his pulse. He wasn’t used to such reactions, such intensity, when all he’d come to know was a crippling emptiness. It was unpleasant.

“What are you going to do about it?” Bronski taunted, a sick smirk upon his face. He dismissed the Soldier, didn’t dare to think he’d disobey direct orders, and turned back to the woman.

She tried to slither out of his hold, but his grip on her wrists was so tight his nails had dug puncture marks into her skin. She was shaking, tears burning into reflective lenses over the gentle hue of her eyes; kind eyes that should not bare such a weight.

Bronski leaned in closer, his mouth pressing against her neck, her whole body stiffening at the touch, and the Soldier snapped.

He rushed at them, his left hand clamping down around Bronski’s neck until he started to gag. Bronski released her wrists, allowing her to sink to the floor in a fallen heap. Bronski scratched at the hand at his neck, gasping for air as his skin turned bright red, then blue, but he was only met with metal. It could not feel. It could only maim.

There was a rage storming inside the Soldier, a mission he’d assigned for himself, as he threw Bronski across the room. It didn’t take much effort. The Soldier was stronger than most men. They underestimated him, believed him to be feeble and weak because he was submissive. But not now. Not when they threatened her.

“Soldat!” Bronski choked out, his voice damaged. Broken windpipe. The Soldier smiled.

Slowly, he took a knee at Bronski’s side, grabbed a firm hold of his collar for leverage, and barreled the closed end of his fist into the man’s face until he could no longer see the smirk that had pressed upon his mouth as he dared to touch his girl. He didn’t stop until Bronski was no longer begging, until he was silent, and blood caked between the panels of metal in his fist, until he heard a voice calling behind him—

“Bucky! Bucky, stop!”

He froze. There was that name again...

He blinked a few times, a sharp piercing in the back of his head painful enough to obscure his vision and he dropped Bronski from his hold. A hand slid down over his shoulders, guiding him away from the body on the floor. It was that same familiar touch; one he knew well.

“Bucky, look at me.”

He did.

Her hand pressed sweetly to the side of his face, like she was trying to memorize him. He leaned into the touch, something he was sure he hadn’t done in years, and yet, within her arms it felt like the most natural thing in the world, like maybe he’d done it a dozen times before.

When he met her eyes again, he understood why.

“Y/n?”

She nodded, tears spilling over her cheeks as she threw herself into his arms. She molded so perfectly against him, his healer, his savior. Bucky knew they wouldn’t have much time before the Hydra infantry arrived and discovered what he’d done. He didn’t dare spare a glance back at the body on the ground.

“Y/n... I—”

The doors swung open, slamming in echoing shocks against the walls, and chaos ensued. Swarms of armed Hydra agents ascended into the room and tore Y/n from his arms, separating them as they restrained Bucky back into the chair. It was the only thing that could hold him.

“Leave her alone!” Bucky roared, that same rage returning to him in fire as two guards pinned Y/n’s arms behind her back, holding her steady as she desperately fought against their hold. “Get your hands off of her!”

Zola appeared at the frame of the door, eyes narrowing on Bucky. The room fell silent.

“Impossible.” He followed Bucky’s eyes to where the guards were restraining Y/n. “The programming should not have failed so soon after he was wiped. How?”

“He’s got a crush on the doc, sir,” one of the guards reported snidely. Bucky recognized him from the many trips he spent dragged along the hallways smearing blood into the concrete before he was dropped off at Y/n’s door.

“Interesting.” Zola crossed the room, hands grasped behind his back as he paced. His eyes fell on Y/n, studying her. “And is it... mutual?”

She didn’t respond, though when her tear-filled eyes flashed over to Bucky, he had his answer.

“Wipe him,” Zola ordered.

The machine started to power up and Bucky found himself fighting against the restraints though he knew it would do no use. Tears were openly streaming down Y/n’s face as she watched him, his name on her lips as she desperately tried to break the guard’s hold on her.

Zola seemed unbothered by the scene. If anything, he was amused, like he was watching lab rats in a cage. “Separate them. I don’t want her interfering with his programming again. We’ll make use of her when the time is right.”

Bucky tried to call her name, but the electricity had already taken hold, submerging him into the darkness.

***

The Soldier was used to his routine. Breakfast at dawn. Then training. Dinner at sundown. Sleep. It was reliable. Simple. The Soldier found a peace in that.

It had been months since he’d seen anyone outside of the two guards at his cell, the parade of uncontrollable human experiments, and the short, stout scientist. It was better this way, they told him. Less stimulation. He was important, meant for incredible things to better humanity. They needed him focused and alert.

He had little room for anything else. Focus on the mission at hand. Complete the task. Reward will follow.

Something as trivial as memories got in the way of that. The Soldier could not afford such a distraction. He was not tied down by a name or a family, by relationships or desires. He was a weapon. Made to be used. He was not capable of more.

“I want to have you looked over before we send you out for your mission today, Soldat,” the scientist said as he examined the Soldier from across the room. The man carried power within Hydra but he was small, cowardly, and he would not dare enter a room with the Soldier without a guard in place. He gestured to the door and the guard with a thick burn down his jaw moved towards it. Blonde hair, blue eyes, broad. He seemed vaguely familiar, though it felt distasteful in his mouth.

A woman was pushed through the doors and into the baron room. She shook off the grip of a Hydra agent with a grunt before she realized where she was. Her eyes fell on the Soldier and he expected her to cower in fear; they all did upon seeing him. Word traveled fast of what he was capable of. And yet –

There was relief in her shoulders, a sigh. She almost smiled before Zola turned in her direction and she pushed it away into a tight frown. The Soldier narrowed his eyes.

“Get to work, Doctor,” he ordered, though it sounded more like a warning.

She nodded, stepping in closer to the Soldier though she was hesitant in her movements. She wore dark circles under her eyes, a redness within the whites. Her clothes were old, torn a little at the edges, and dirty with use. But still, she offered a kind smile as she approached.

“How are you feeling?”

The Soldier didn’t know how to respond to that. No one had ever bothered with his answer. He stayed silent.

“You can talk freely,” she encouraged gently as she approached his bedside. He sat on the edge of the cot, tension burning through his body as it always did when he wasn’t alone. One word out of turn resulted in punishment. He knew well enough not to tempt it.

She seemed to understand he would not fall into the trap, and she nodded in acceptance.

“I’m going to take your vitals, alright? I’ll start with your heart rate.” She held up two fingers, gesturing as she pressed them against her own neck. Seemed harmless enough, though he suspected he didn’t have much of a choice anyway. It was strange she acted as if he did.

Regardless, the Soldier nodded.

As she touched him, something seemed to break. She clenched her jaw tightly, trying to focus on the rhythm of his heartbeat, but he could hear the distress in her own. Quick, pounding, uneven, and she pulled her fingers away before he questioned the slight tremble in her touch.

He wanted to ask if she were alright because something about seeing her upset was unpleasant for him. She wanted to say something, that much he could tell, but she bit her tongue.

“You’re here for a reason, Doctor,” Zola taunted from his position in the corner of the room. The woman flinched though she kept her back to him. Her eyes flickered to the Soldier as if he were an anchor. Zola smirked. “Go on. Test our programming. Why else do you think we kept you around?”

Then, he exited the room. The guard followed behind him until the Soldier was alone with the woman.

She swallowed; eyes cast down as if she were afraid to speak. For a while, she continued to take his vitals – checking his blood pressure, his eye movement, examining the mess of scars on his shoulder as they attempted to heal. All the while, so impossibly gentle, so kind in her touch, that he started to wonder if he’d felt it before.

When she was finished, she took a step back. It was only then that the Soldier noticed the reflective marks on her cheeks. Had she been crying? Why did the thought alone make his stomach twist into knots painful enough to nauseate him?

“Bucky?”

He narrowed his eyes, confused. She reached out for his hand, though she stopped herself before she could touch him. It seemed agonizing; the restraint visible on her features.

“Bucky, please tell me there’s still a of piece of you in there,” she begged. He found himself wanting to lie, to pretend to be this man she craved, just to make her happy. He didn’t know why he cared so much, why it bothered him to see her cry. She was a stranger.

“You don’t recognize me at all, do you?” Her voice was so small, so broken. She was never afraid of him, he realized. No – it seemed she was more afraid of his answer. He did not respond. He didn’t know how.

She nodded, clenching her jaw as tears spilled from the corners of her eyes and the Soldier managed to break the heart of a woman he didn’t know. Another casualty in his wake.

“Excellent,” Zola sneered, appearing back in the doorway. The doctor took a step back and it surprised the Soldier when the space between them felt like an assault. Zola grinned as he moved closer to the woman. “Hydra thanks you for your service.”

“Fuck you,” she spat, just before she landed a closed fist against the bridge of the scientist’s nose.

The Soldier flinched, stunned by the woman’s brazen as she stared into the face of the mad scientist. The tears hadn’t yet dried and still – she was fearless. Zola laughed as the blood dripped down into his mouth. A guard wrapped a vicious hold around her wrist, beginning to drag her out of the room, but she turned back to the Soldier.

“Don’t give into them, Bucky! You have to fight this! You’re good, do you hear me? You’re not one of them!”

Her voice echoed in the room even as she was shoved through the door and down the hall. He listened for the last remaining vibrations of her voice, of her struggling, until it was silent. He wondered about this man she referred to, why she thought he was worth fighting for. He thought about whether he was the man she spoke of.

“Distractions, Soldat.” Zola tsked. “You are magnificent. You are the fist of Hydra. Do you understand?”

He nodded. It pleased the scientist.

Zola explained the mission he was about to embark on at dawn. He listened to the instructions, the details, the purpose – all the while wondering about what became of the kind doctor who called him by a name he didn’t recognize.

Then, when he was finished, the scientist left and the Soldier was alone— just as he always had been.

---

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#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes fluff

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jtargaryen18 · 3 years

Text

His Inheritance ~ Preview

A one-shot coming that’s for @alexakeyloveloki 💕 I haven’t written this type of story so I hope this is okay...

You first met the most powerful man in Boston on your eighteenth birthday.

Steve Rogers ripped a hole in the safety of your life when he stormed into your home that day with no warning. You were there having cake with the few friends you were allowed to have, mostly the kids of your tutors and then only the girls were allowed to attend.

Stormy blue eyes scanned the group of you. Steve Rogers was tall with shoulders as wide as church doors. His hair was dark gold, the color of old coins, swept back from a face that belonged on a matinee idol, not a mobster. His beard, a shade darker than his hair worked with the dark suit he wore to give him a polished look.

But like your father, he was a mobster. Also like your father, he was obviously someone important.

In another place, another time, you would have found him devastatingly handsome. What you saw that day? A handsome savage in a suit, barely restrained.

His scowl had you cowering among your friends. The man’s energy, frustration and rage, rolled off him in waves. Instinct had you trying not to draw attention to yourself, hoping he’d leave as quickly as he arrived.

Steve’s gaze roamed over the group of you, always coming back to you. Rich color darkened his face, made you wonder what he was so upset about.

An older man with dark eyes and a heavily-lined face came up to stand by his side. He looked your group over too before his gaze settled on you. Then he pointed a single, thick finger in your direction.

“That’s her,” the man muttered. “Spitting image of her mother at that age.”

What was this?

Ms. Healey’s heels clicked up the hall as she took in the scene frantically, her eyes wide in alarm.

“Excuse me, sir,” she said with no small amount of hesitation. “Why have you barged into our home?”

Steve’s gaze didn’t move from you. “Here to prove someone lied to me,” he told her.

Ms. Healey didn’t appear to know what to say to that.

Steve called you by name. That’s not a good sign. “Come here.”

“Sir!”

You rose from the dining table. What else could you do? The fear you felt showed on your friends’ faces as you made your way around them to stand in front of the man. Ms. Healey rushed to your side, wrapping an arm around your trembling form.

“Sir, you have no right,” Ms. Healey’s voice was high and thin. “I’ll n-need you to leave… Or I’ll call the police.”

A corner of his mouth curved up. “You know who I am. You know that won’t do you any good.”

Her arm tightened around you. Her lack of answer indicated that she very much did.

“I just want a word with her in private,” Steve told her, his gaze still on you. “Five minutes.”

Now that he sounded more reasonable, Ms. Healey sounded a little more like herself. “She’s a sheltered young lady. Very sheltered. I can’t allow that.”

His smirk grew. “Yeah, you really can. Because that’s what’s going to happen.”

Ms. Healey gave it one last try. “How can you barge into her father’s house like this? Isn’t it disrespectful to treat his daughter this way?”

The dark swirl of emotions in those blue eyes filled you with dread as his gaze roamed over you possessively.

Steve chuckled, a deep, humorless sound. “I’m the one who has been disrespected here. Her father lied to me. Been lying to me for years. And now? I’m here to get a good look at what’s mine.”

Marching in your direction, Steve’s huge hand wrapped around your upper arm and he pulled you out of her grasp, out of the room.

#Mobster!Steve #Dark Steve Rogers #Soft dark #Let's see if the blonde here knows what she's doing with this story #Steve Rogers x reader #Steve Rogers x you #Coming soon #Mafia #Avengers AU

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buckybarnesdiaries · 3 years

Text

otchet o missii

bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.

part one ⸺ part two ⸺ bonus

request made by anon: Hi Maria you beautiful person you please be my friend 🥺 I kinda have a request but if it doesn't speak to you then you don't have to write it, could you write something where reader is an enhanced/ mutant (kinda like Wanda or Jean Grey so like crazy powerful and dangerous) and Bucky just will not let the government get near her because he knows they'll probably experiment on her to make her a weapon cause they're sus like that? It can be romantic or platonic no preference, if ya want, please and thanks sorry this was so long

word count: 1.165 words.

warnings/tags: none. dad!bucky being overprotective with his baby soldier.

author notes: re-posted because tumblr deleted it for no reason. none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

Join the tag list here.

“Soldat, stoy”.

(Soldier, stop).

Your eyes widened. Your heart raced. The time froze. That command clicked something in your brain, producing the spheres of flames concentrated on your palms to dwindle till disappearing. You had just one second to look around you, before turning at the firm tone of voice behind your back. You found yourself in the middle of Times Square, surrounded by different security forces, aiming at you with large-caliber weapons. Above your head, two helicopters were setting up a perimeter. The chaos spread around the long avenue. You didn't have an idea of how you ended up there, but you were scared like never before.

Turning slowly, your eyes landed on a pair of pale blue orbs. You didn’t notice the other people as a backup. A feeling of safety invaded you when he tilted his head confused, narrowing his eyes, trying to understand how it was possible that you were there. But before you could take a step closer to him, a twinge followed by an electric cramp shook your body. The last thing you heard before blacking out was an I got you, and a cold arm wrapping your abdomen.

BUCKY'S POV

Avengers Compound

06:03 pm, New York

“How do you know it’s not a trap set by Hydra?” Steve asked, reclining himself on his seat at the meeting table next to the rest of the Avengers.

“Because I trust her”. Bucky didn’t doubt replying, although he couldn’t understand why, hearing Stark clicking his tongue as he rolled his eyes.

“James, you don’t know her”. Natasha sighed, referring to the fact that being assassins together years ago meant nothing.

“I trained her. She owes me loyalty”.

“What’s that? Some kind of Stockholm Syndrome patented by Hydra?” Clint scoffed incredulously.

“Tell us what you know about her, Bucky. What you remember”. The captain asked his long-life friend, leaning on the table with both forearms rested against the edge of it.

The soldier gulped, deeply breathing, nodding his chin with his eyes lost somewhere on the dark oak. He explained how Vasily Karpov knew about you. An orphan with no family, no history, and a power of telepathy that allowed you to control the four elements as you pleased. Water, fire, earth, and air. From nowhere, your body could produce flames and throw them anywhere. Exactly the same you could do with water and air. Earth was different. Only by using your hands you could wild it as you want; creating earthquakes or holes, move it. The heroes around Bucky were stupefied. You were a potential danger.

Then, he told them about your skills. Karpov made him stay awake after killing Tony’s parents to train her. You were just a kid. And soon, you were a soldier with an angelic face who could kill anyone just by blinking your eyes. To tell the truth, the Winter Soldier was everything you had in this life. You two worked together, hand-to-hand, for more than ten years until he disappeared. With him out of the game, Hydra continued experimenting with you to replace him. But they reached a point where you couldn't bear the pain, losing control completely.

“Let me talk with her, please”. Bucky begged, touring his eyes around the people there.

“It’s too dangerous”. Vision affirmed, taking a position close to Tony.

“She. Owes. Me. Loyalty”. He repeated almost hissing, pointing out every word with his silver forefinger poking the table.

“You have five minutes before the Government brings her to the Raft”. Rhodes sentenced, crossing his arms on his chest. “Five minutes”.

Escorted by Steve and Wanda, who was the only one there that could control you, Bucky went down to the third sublevel. When the soporific made its effect and knocked you out in the middle of Manhattan, the Avengers managed to take you to their compound.

You were still stoned, but conscious enough to know what was happening around you. Everything spun inside the bunker. Your head hurt like hell and you felt a knot within the pit of your stomach that made you want to puke your guts. As the heavy door proffered a loud noise being opened you retreated to the farthest corner, placing your knees to your chest and wrapping your legs with both arms. Again, you were shaking. Terrified. About to beg for your life.

“Soldat, otchet o missii”.

(Soldier, mission report).

Your breathing became erratic as if the air wasn't enough to fill your lungs. You were at the edge of your crying, raising your hidden face from the gap of your knees. The Winter Soldier was standing some feet away from you. No expression on his face, as always, but with the small difference of a slight inkling of concern. He also looked skinnier, shorter hair, a grown beard. He looked healthier, free.

“Net zadaniya”. You whispered with a broken tone.

(No assignment).

“Soldat, otchet o missii”. He repeated taking a step ahead, hardening his voice.

(Soldier, mission report).

The command made you gulp a sob. Wasn’t he believing you? How could you lie to him?

“Net zadaniya”. You replied with no hesitation, standing on your bare feet and sticking your back to the wall. “Missiya ne naznachena”.

(No assignment. No mission assigned).

You noticed he wanted to turn to his partners, but he didn't. The soldier kept eye contact, coming a little more closer, invading your personal space without caring. He tilted his head forward, trying to find the answers to his questions in your orbs. But they both were emptied with the sole exception of the horror invading your chest and reflected on them. You didn't want to come back. You wanted to be released from Hydra's chain. You weren't an assassin, nor a monster.

“I wa… I was looking for… you”. Babbling, you confessed, being the explanation for why your mind took you to that place in concrete.

“Why?”

“Because you are the only person I have”.

His eyelids narrowed for a second, scanning your intentions, feeling frustrated by not finding anything hidden beneath your words. “Otchet o missii, soldat”.

(Mission report, soldier).

“Net zadaniya, Sergeant Barnes”.

(No assignment).

It was the first time you pronounced part of his real name since you met him many years ago and you could listen to his heartbeat increasing. Before you blinked, his metallic hand grabbed your throat and pinned you against the wall, watching the fury and the rage taking control over his grimace. Glancing above his shoulder, a redhead woman stopped the blonde man known as Captain America. Your gaze focused again on the soldier, loosening slowly the grip on your skin.

“Why don't you remember me?”

The last thing you knew about him was that the man behind him brought back the memories of his past life. His real life. But he was still looking at you with hate and revulsion. Of course, the Winter Soldier was conscious of who you were. What he had forgotten was how he felt about you. He didn't reply to your question, walking backward to the exit, leaving you there. Alone. Again.

feedback is appreciated, please, leave a comment to let me know if you liked it and/or reblog it.

author notes: what do you think about, after the two parts explaining the story, continuing it to explore the evolution of their relationship? do you like the idea? lemme know in a comment or send me an ask!

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x female reader #james bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan x you #bucky barnes #the winter soldier x reader #the avengers x reader

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randomshyperson · 3 years

Text

The Scarlet Witch Prophecy - The Third Year

Series Masterlist || Read on AO3

Summary: As the youngest daughter of Howard Stark, you have ordinary expectations for your years at Hogwarts. Little do you know what adventures await you when your destiny is intertwined with the legendary Scarlet Witch.

Warnings: +16. Adaptation of the Harry Potter Saga, Magical Thematic, Prophecies, Mentions of Violence, Torture and dark magic, Language (swearing and minor/major offenses), manipulation of will, Underage kissing, insinuation of smut with minors, Smut (overage), descriptions of death, aggression, obscurity, angst, fluffy, soulmates analogies.

Chapter Words: 7.290K

Chapter Notes: Wanda x Reader friendship is here. And more about the world history. I’m pretty sure this is the last chapter where things are easy going. Just like Harry Potter, things start to get dark during four year. Good reading to everyone, i hope you like the story so far.

Tag list ( let me know if you want to be tagged or removed idk haha) @mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @justagaypanicking / @thegayw1tch / @idek-5 // @myperfectlovepoem // @helloalycia // @ENSORCELLME // @AIMEZVOUSBRAHMS // @imapotatao / @aimezvousbrahms/ @ensorcellme/ @helloalycia // @ichala

//-// x //-// //-// x //-//

Your list of materials is much longer in the third year.

Tony complains that you shouldn't have taken so many classes, but you are so curious to explore the areas of magic that you can't help it.

This time, Mantis meets you in the diagonal alley. You were hoping to spend some time with Gamora and Nebula as well, but once you get a glimpse of their father, you know that's not going to happen.

Thanos is a tall, muscular man, and has a permanent aggressive look on his face. He also kept his hands on the shoulders of his two daughters while they were waiting to be attended to at Flourish and Blotts. You also noticed that your friends were wearing very beautiful and remarkably expensive dark green capes, and just like their father's outfit, they had a bundle of a silver snake. That was the first time you understood what Slytherin pride meant.

"He's scary." Mantis commented softly beside you. You nodded in agreement. Groot, who was a little bigger since you saw him last year, jumped on your shoulder, sitting next to your ear. You smiled at the creature before looking forward again.

You and Mantis were standing at the entrance of store, and saw your friends through the window. You gave up the idea of complementing them when you saw their father.

"Let's restock the potions list first, Mantis." You tell her. "Then we'll buy our books."

You meet Tony again at the Leaky Cauldron after you finish. He hides something from you quickly, but you are distracted by an apple muffin flying towards you, and you don't ask.

Bucky was staying at the Leaky Cauldron because his house had a magical accident. His father said something about a persistent spell flood. Since the rest of Bucky's family were muggle, only he and his father were staying there, solving the problem while Bucky's sisters were at his aunt's house.

Since everyone needed to buy the materials for the new school year, Tony asked you to join his friends when you were done buying your stuff.

After lunch with everyone, Mantis said goodbye to you, and you returned Groot to her hands.

You led her to the exit of the bar, but as you walked back to the table, a conversation caught your attention.

"I'm telling you, they saw him in Sokovia." A bearded man whispered. He looked so nervous, you couldn't help but pay attention. The woman standing next to him, a cup of a strange liquor in her hands, rolled her eyes.

"That's miles away, Thomas." She said. "If Korvac gets anywhere near London, the ministry will send him back to Azkaban in two seconds."

"He's already escaped once, Sara." You rebut the man.

You frown at the conversation. Walking back, you have a thoughtful frown on your face, and Tony teases you.

You get distracted by Steve's jokes about the coming year, and forget all about it.

It's only after you've packed your bag, during dinner, that you remember.

"I heard something strange today." You say casually as Tony and your father dine beside you. "Some folks in the Leaky Cauldron were talking about someone escaping from Azkaban."

Your father chokes. Tony stares at you, and ducks his head when your father looks at him angrily. Howard gaze softens when he looks at you however.

"Honey, who told you that?"

You shrug.

"No one told me dad." You reply. "I ended up overhearing two strangers talking about it. I never knew about anyone escaping from Azkaban before, it seemed important."

Tony kicks you under the table, and you frown in confusion. Your father takes a deep breath.

"Honey, listen to me carefully, will you?" He begins, and you worry at his serious tone. "There are important things going on at Daddy's work. Things that could be dangerous." He says and you look at him in surprise. "You and your brother are too young to be getting into such matters, and I hope you will trust me to keep you both safe."

"Yes, dad." Tony assures, but you remain silent. A moment later, you add:

"Daddy, is there anything I can do to help you?"

"No honey." He says taking back his fork.

"It's okay to tell me what's going on, I won't be scared. I can help..."

"Enough!" He exclaims angrily punching the table. You jump lightly in your chair, startled. Your father doesn't look at you. "I don't want you to hear anything about this anymore. You two are children, and it's dangerous. Have I made myself clear?"

You look at Tony, but he is glaring at the plate in front of you.

Swallowing the urge to cry, you get up, hurrying to run to your room.

Your father calls you several times, but you don't answer.

A few minutes after you are in your bed, he appears in your room. His posture is much gentler than before, and he kneels down beside your bed.

"Honey, hey." He calls to you. You keep your face in the pillow, and he sighs. "I'm sorry for yelling at you." He says, and with your silence, he continues. "Can you forgive me?"

It takes a few seconds, but you look at him, and nod. Howard smiles faintly.

"You and your brother are the most important things in my life." He says fondly. "And I would never forgive myself if something happened to you because of me."

"Dad, you can't control what is in the rest of the world."

Your father chuckles lightly.

"Yeah I know." He says. "Damn, I wanted you to stay a little girl forever, so you wouldn't be so smart."

You laugh, pushing his shoulder lightly.

"You're not going to tell me what's going on, are you?" You ask and your father sighs, looking away.

"It's nothing that will affect you honey." He says. "It's just problems of the magical world. I don't want you meddling in something like that. Not at this age."

You sit down on the bed next, raising your pinky to your father.

"I swear I won't pry into such business if you promise to tell me if things get serious enough for me to know."

Her father laughs, raising his own pinky then.

"I promise, kiddo."

You both laugh as you take the oath, and your father hugs you next. When he lets go and stands up, you pull his hand away.

"Apologize to Tony, Daddy." You ask surprising him slightly. "He doesn't like it when you yell either."

Your father sighs, bending down to kiss your forehead. He asked you to go to sleep before he closed the door.

//-//

It is very cold when you arrive at Hogwarts.

But you don't care because all your friends link arms and walk together, making you laugh at the confused looks you get when the other students notice the small row.

Over dinner, your mood changes quickly however.

"I imagine it has come to the attention of many students here, especially the older ones, the recent untoward events in the magical world." Principal Harkness began during the announcement of the new school year. She had a serious and authoritative tone, and deep dark circles under her eyes. You have never seen her like this before. "But for those of you who are not aware, the dark wizard known as Korvac escaped from Azkaban a few months ago." The hall exploded into murmurs at the mention. You saw Professor Strange lock his jaw, probably disagreeing that such a topic should be broached with eleven-year-olds. "After much consideration, the Ministry of Magic thought it best to apply additional security to the castles."

"So, starting next week, we will have special guests at the Hogwarts castles; The ministry has determined that aurors and Azkaban guards will be guarding the outside of the grounds."

The crowd erupted in boos as soon as the words echoed in the hall. Your Hufflepuff colleagues remarked in horror that the dementors, the guards of Azkaban, were terrifying, and you sought your brother's gaze at the Slytherin table, but he was looking earnestly at the principal.

Agatha sighed impatiently, and the hall fell silent. She asked everyone to be careful with the guards in Azkaban, not to give them reason to fight back. And then she returned to the daily announcements as if nothing had happened.

You didn't eat very well after that.

History of Magic with Professor Okoye was one of the hardest classes in school.

You were hoping to get decent grades this year, but you were assigned to be with Peter as your pair, so you knew you would have to work for two, as your friend had no interest at all in that subject.

"Why don't you try to pay attention?" You asked slightly annoyed as you made your notes. Quill was drawing small dragons in his notebook.

"I want to be a famous Quidditch player, I don't need to know the history of the Goblin revolution for that."

You sighed, turning your attention back to the blackboard. Several minutes after class had begun, a Gryffindor student raised his hand.

"Professor Okoye, may I ask you a question?" it was Thor Odinson, and he seemed to have grown at least twenty inches over the summer. You noted that his hair was also longer when you looked back, wondering who was speaking.

"Of course, Odinson." The teacher said with a gentle smile. Thor cleared his throat as he lowered his hand, seeming to hesitate.

"Could you tell us about the Mephisto followers?"

The room fell absolutely silent at the mention of the name, and many students looked at Thor with wide eyes. The smile on Professor Okoye's face completely disappeared.

"Where did you hear that name, boy?" she asked sternly, Thor swallowed dryly.

"M-my father, ma'am." He replied. "I heard him send a bawler to the ministry quoting that name. When I asked, he told me to study the history of the wizarding world. I thought I would ask you because I couldn't find anything in the books."

The room looked at the teacher expectantly. Okoye sighed, seeming to decide whether to talk about it or not.

"Listen to me carefully please." She asked as she walked around the tables. "Some years ago long before any of you were born, there was a sorcerer who made all the wrong choices. He sought immeasurable power, and was never satisfied with his own abilities. And many other wizards believed that the quest for ultimate power was something worth dying for. When this wizard became a symbol of power and cruelty, he named himself Mephisto."

Her classmates exchanged startled looks, but the teacher continued to tell.

"The dark wizards and witches who supported this quest became known as the Followers of Mephisto, or Walkers of Death. The magical ministries around the world banded together to put an end to the group, and there was a great battle, where most of these wizards were imprisoned or killed in a duel."

"What happened to Mephisto?" Thor asks suddenly, interrupting the narration. The teacher hesitates, but then gives a reassuring smile.

"He's dead, of course." She assures.

"My mother says he was never found." Added another classmate, you think her name is Valkyrie, but you've never talked to her. Much buzz runs through the room at her utterance, and Professor Okoye twists her fingers nervously.

"When the Walkers of Death were eliminated, Mephisto lost his power." She tells seriously. "The last person who faced him is related to someone in this room actually."

Professor Okoye turns to you, and you want to sink into your chair, feeling your heart soar.

"Auror Howard Stark was the last sorcerer to fight Mephisto before his demise. Thirteen years ago." She says and you feel all the stares on you. "But that's enough from this matter for today, students. Mephisto's story is taboo in our witch community because of the thousands of lives that were lost during that period." She adds, "I hope you will be respectful about the memory of those victims, and not comment on such a thing, or mention the name of this despicable wizard again."

The teacher closes the subject after that, looking upset. You can't pay attention to the class again when she goes back to talking about the magical revolution.

//-//

"Did you knew about that?" You ask angrily when Tony looks unimpressed when you approach him in the third floor hallway, after searching all over the school for him.

He looks tired.

"Stop talking so loud, will you?" He asks looking around. "Of course I knew, I've been researching this story for months."

You frown in confusion, and Tony rolls his eyes leaning against the bookshelf next to him.

"I didn't tell you anything because you're only thirteen!" He adds nervously. "That's not children's business."

"It is my business if it involves our family!". You retort angrily. A group of students walk past you, looking at you curiously, but Tony just pretends to be admiring the trophies until they leave.

"Look, I don't really know what happened, but dad used to be an auror when mom was alive." He recounts. "And then he took on this powerful sorcerer, and mom died when you were born. He became an inventor, switched departments in the mystery, and nobody talks about this Mephisto guy nowadays."

"Do you know what this has to do with the wizard who escaped from Azkaban?" you ask with your arms crossed, Tony gives a chuckle.

"Isn't it obvious, sis?" he retorts wryly. "Korvac was Mephisto's greatest ally at that time. And he escaped from the most secure prison in the world. A lot of people think that means the walkers are getting back in business again."

"My god Tony, why didn't dad tell us any of this?" You ask worriedly and Tony laughs humorlessly, looking upset.

He straightens his posture and points to the glass on the trophy shelf that was propped up.

"And there's more." He says. "Take a look at that."

You turn your face to stare at the objects that were stored there. Most were trophies, but there were also pictures of the Quidditch teams from previous years. Tony is pointing to one of those.

"No way." You whispered as you see it. In the caption on the board, it read "Howard Stark and Erik Lehnsherr receiving awards for their honorable service to the school." It was your father and your teacher, probably in their senior year, and they seemed both content. The magical photograph showed them hugging each other by the shoulders, huge smiles on their faces, and two golden cups in their hands.

"Yes, little sister." Tony said also looking at the picture. "Dad and Magneto were friends in school days. I wonder what happened to Professor Lehnsherr to make him so bitter. He looks happy in that picture."

The sound of the bell announcing the next period makes you jump in fright, as you were completely distracted by the photograph in front of you.

"Let's talk about this later, Tony, I have charms now and..."

"No way, Y/N!" Tony interrupted frowning. "That's none of your business. Dad told me that you promised to stay out of it, and I agree with him. You're too young!"

"Oh and you think he'll like knowing you're investigating this whole story?" You retort and Tony sighs, looking away, "That's what I thought.

"I'm not going to get you mixed up in this story."

"Fine, I'll find out on my own, then."

"Y/n..."

"See you, Tony."

//-//

Having dementors in the castle is really scary.

It's been two weeks since classes started, and with the first Quidditch game of the year approaching, you're pretty anxious.

You didn't make much progress in your research during those days. None of the professors wanted to say anything about Mephisto's time, and you lost fifteen points when you tried to ask Professor Lehnsherr about his school days, for being a snoozer.

The only things you found out other than what Tony told you were what Gamora and Nebula shared with you. They mentioned that Thanos was particularly busy during the summer, and that they had never seen him go to the Ministry so often before.

You also started reading the Daily Prophet, and every day they would publish something about Korvac's escape, even if it was only to say that there was no news in the case.

When the day of the first match arrived, you ignored the strange feeling that settled on the edge of your stomach as if something bad was going to happen.

You are overjoyed when you are in the air, waiting for the match to start, and notice that all of Tony's friends, including yourself, have yellow flags in their hands to cheer you on.

Everything goes well until the end of the first half.

You noticed a bludger almost reaching your chaser team mate, Clint Barton and moved forward to defend him many meters above the stadium. Because it was raining, your visibility was very poor. You knocked the ball away, but lost sight of Clint, although you heard him shout a thank you. As you dived down again, lightning exploded beside you, and you jumped in fright, feeling your ear whistle as you became completely disoriented.

As you began to get used to your surroundings again, you felt your body become completely tense. The cloud in front of you was almost a face shape, it looked like someone with horns or maybe wearing a tiara. The image dissolved in the next second, and you felt a strange chill run through your body. Releasing the broom handle only to hug your arms, you looked down, the whole team many meters away.

When you tried to join them, something came in your way.

Dementors must have been the scariest thing you had ever seen in your life. And there was one of them right in front of you. You widened your eyes in shock, and the creature looked straight at you.

Losing your strength quickly, you felt yourself slipping off the broom. A feeling as if you had been wrapped in a very painful spell overtook your body as you fell.

//-//

You woke up in a jolt, and warm hands pushed you back into bed.

"Relax, kid." Your brother spoke with a smile. "I swear I'll actually forbid you to play at some point."

"What happened?" you asked confused. All of your friends and Tony's friends around your bed.

"You fell off the broom, damn it." He retorted and you rolled your eyes.

"Yeah but there was a dementor up there..."

"Yeah, everyone saw it." Tony interrupted looking annoyed. "Professor Harkness kicked everyone out of the stadium after Professor Strange conjured up the patronus."

"I have never seen Professor Strange so angry." Gamora remarked next.

"Oh, there's something else." Natasha warned moving around the crowd to stand beside you on the bed. "Your broom fell into the Whomping Willow, and well. It' s right here."

In Nat's arms were the remains of what had once been your Nimbus 2000. You sighed in displeasure, but at least you could ask Jarvis to buy you another one.

After you were released from the nurse's office, Principal Harkness was waiting for you in the hallway. She waved for all your other colleagues to go their ways, as she escorted you to the Hufflepuff common room.

"Tell me, dear, are you feeling all right?" She asked tenderly. You nodded in agreement as you walked.

When you reached an empty hallway, she stopped walking, and touched your shoulder so that you would do the same. She knelt at your height and looked deep into your eyes.

"Tell me what you saw up there."

" Professor, I don't remember..." You started to say, but then fell silent, immediately recalling what you saw as you gaze the purple glow in front of you. It was as if your thoughts came out of your lips before you even thought to say them. "I saw an image in the clouds, it was like a horned creature or someone wearing a crown. Then the dementor reached me and I felt an immediate chill and unhappiness. I had the feeling that I was wrapped in a sensation of pain as I fell down."

The professor seemed to absorb every one of your words. She smiled then, her eyes returning to their normal color quickly, making you believe you had imagined the whole thing.

"Thank you dear." She said. "Let's keep this between us, okay?"

When you two walked back, you didn't remember any conversation at all.

//-//

Your first trip to Hogsmeade is amazing.

You buy two bags full of candy at the Honeydukes, and then you and your friends go to the Three Broomsticks, to have some buttery beer.

Quill seems to have become friends with Pietro Maximoff during Quidditch practice, because as soon as they see each other, they greet with a hug.

You ignore the feeling of nervousness that settles on the pit of your stomach when your gaze meets Wanda's.

Your friends don't mind sharing a table with the Maximoff twins, and that's how you end up sitting a few feet from Wanda, Gamora's watchful eye on you trying to understand why you're so quiet and flushed.

"Everyone is so nervous about the dementors at the castle, that I think we should try to do something fun. Like throw a party." Quill suggested to the group. Mantis looked excited.

"I think we could do something before Christmas." Gamora suggested and the group agreed.

"Does anyone have any idea where we can have this party? Quill asked." Since we are from different houses, maybe the common rooms are not a good option. I heard that the Slytherin kids don't really like the Hufflepuffs.”

Quill's teasing makes Wanda roll her eyes, but the rest of the table giggles. You look away to your cup.

"We could use some empty room on the seventh floor." Pietro suggested, and Quill gave an excited exclamation.

"This is a great idea." He said. "If the older students are going to participate, we can get some prefect to cover for us."

Quil looks at you and Mantis has to poke your shoulder for you to notice and pay attention.

"Sorry, what is it?" You ask when you notice all the looks on you.

"Can't you convince Steve Rogers to join us? He's your brother's boyfriend."

You laugh, nodding in agreement

"Okay folks, I'll try to call them all."

On the way back to the castle, after you spent the afternoon talking about the most diverse random subjects and telling jokes, you leave your hands in your pocket, because it is very cold.

Quill and Pietro start playing tag, and Wanda walks alone. You hurry up to join her.

"Hey." You greet with a smile, Wanda also has her hands in her pockets.

"Hey". She responds kindly.

"Is everything all right?"

"Yes?"

"Are you asking me?" You say back with humor and Wanda laughs, looking at the floor as she walks. "I… I thought it was cool this afternoon." You confess the next moment, feeling your face get hot. "With everyone together, I say. And you and your brother, it's ... you two are nice."

"Thank you, Stark." She replies with a smile. You move your fingers inside your pocket before you speak again.

"If we're going to be friends, you can use my first name". You say and Wanda looks at you, but you keep looking forward.

"Are you sure?" She asks after a moment. You frown without understanding. "Are you sure you want to be my friend?"

You look at Wanda in surprise. But then your expression softens.

"I thought we were going to be friends last year, but you looked angry every time you saw me."

Wanda laughed lightly, looking ahead.

"Yeah, I… I'm sorry about that." She says. "It wasn't something you did. It was just a few things I heard. And I ended up thinking that you were judging me like everyone else at that school." She tells you. "It would make sense since you saw me face the troll." Wanda whispered the last part. You bit your bottom lip before speaking again.

"You could have talked to me, you know?" You say. "I kept thinking that I had done something wrong."

Wanda said nothing, and you sighed, running your hands through your hair.

"We can forget about it and be friends now, what do you think?" You then suggested a smile on your face.

Wanda looked at you, and her green eyes cause something in your stomach to sink.

"I would like that."

"Cool." You comment breathlessly.

//-//

Being friends with Wanda is so natural that it almost surprises you.

Now whenever you sit down at the Slytherin table, there are two new members in your group of friends.

Eventually you discover that it was Quidditch that build Quill and Pietro friendship, as they stopped fighting because they were spending a lot of time training together.

At the Slytherin table, you know that Pietro and Quill receive angry looks because they are from Gryffindor, but no one has the courage to say anything to you, perhaps it is the deadly stare that Wanda gives anyone who dares to look foully at her brother.

You also succeed in inviting Steve and Tony, in addition to your brother's other friends, to the party before Christmas. Steve says that you all can use the old Astronomy room on seventh-on Saturday, and that the curfew would be at ten o'clock. The news of the party ends up spreading quickly around the school, but your friends don't seem to mind that it stopped being something small just between you guys.

When the day finally comes, you wear a comfortable jeans and sweatshirt set, realizing that it is a choice of clothes much more similar to Muggle-borns than pureblood but no one seems to care.

"Hey, you took so long" remarked Gamora as soon as you went up to the seventh floor and met her at the door of the room. "Come on, everyone is already in there"

As you took some of the non-alcoholic fruit drink that Mantis helped Quill make, you looked around the room. You waved sheepishly when your eyes met Wanda's, who was coming in. She looks very beautiful in her wine red sweater, and she smiled at you, and you didn't understand why you felt your stomach flip.

Soon everyone were all together, talking animatedly on various subjects. When Quill and Pietro started doing a dance competition, you laughed so hard that your belly was aching when they were done.

//-//

You have your first Divination class that week.

Professor Heimdall was already waiting for the students while he was sitting on a kind of ivory throne in the corner of the room, which smelled of incense that made your head spin slightly. It really was a remarkably mystical and mysterious environment, even for a magic school. The illumination was limited due to long white curtains on the walls, and there were many candles scattered around the room. Mantis whispered that this kind of thing was done to increase concentration when working with this kind of magic.

"Welcome to our first meeting on Divination, students, the most complex and unstable of magical arts." began the professor as soon as everyone was seated at the tables spread around the tower. "I must warn you that if you seek answers to your most personal questions here, you will most likely not find them. There is no stability in this subject."

Some students commented softly among themselves, but no one seemed willing to contradict the professor, his yellow eyes roaming over everyone in the room.

"Let's begin today's class with an introduction to the basics of study in divination." He warns, and with a flick of his wand, the cupboards at the back of the room open, and from there several sets of cups fly out to all the tables. Then the professor touches his wand to the teapot on the table, and it multiplies into four pairs, flying around to serve everyone.

When everyone has their cups full, Professor Heimdall goes to the small blackboard, and begins to explain how divination works. You hurry to start writing it down.

Many minutes later, when you have finished your tea, Mantis pokes your shoulder.

"Let me look at yours and you do mine?" she asks and you nod, handing her your cup. You clear your throat, looking intently at the dregs of tea in Mantis' cup.

"I don't see anything." You grumble, trying to concentrate. The powder doesn't seem to form anything.

"Remember to check the symbols in your books." Warned Professor Heimdall aloud the next moment. You took a deep breath, running your fingers across the paper as you tried to identify the images.

"Mantis, let's switch, I don't think I'm getting anything..." You start to say softly looking at your book, when you glance at your friend however, you frown in confusion. She has her gaze glazed on your cup, one hand covering her mouth, "Mantis, what happened?"

She gasps softly, and you straighten your position as you notice a thick tear running down her cheek, feeling your heart soar with worry.

"I'm... I'm so sorry." She sighs breathlessly, dropping her cup on the table. The noise attracts everyone's attention, but Mantis is getting up the next moment, and running out of the room. You stand up, but Professor Heimdall puts his hand on your shoulder.

"Don't worry, miss Stark." He says. "It's common for those more sensitive to divination to have that kind of reaction in their first contact with the spirit world." He explains with a tender look. You don't understand why, but his voice calms you. "Go back to your activity, I will talk to your friend."

He waves to the rest of the room next, and then leaves. You sit back down, exchanging worried glances with Gamora and Nebula who are at the table in front of you.

Your first action is to look at the cup that Mantis has thrown on the table, but the impact has broken it at the bottom, and the liquid has run down the cloth. You sigh in dissatisfaction, using your wand to clean up the mess.

When class is over, Gamora and Nebula quickly join you.

"Any idea what that was about?" Gamora asks as you walk together through the castle.

"No, she just got a glazed look in her eyes, and then she ran off." You count. "I'll try to ask her in potions class."

"Maybe she saw some evil omen." Nebula comments, and Gamora elbows her in the stomach. "Ouch."

You frown worriedly.

"Does that mean something bad is going to happen to me?"

Gamora denies with her head, forcing a smile as if trying to reassure you.

"Bad omens can be many things, even something silly, like losing a sock in your room." She says and you leave your hands in your pockets, not feeling reassured by this information.

"Yeah, but Mantis wouldn't cry over a sock." You retort and Nebula nods in agreement, but Gamora has a serious expression.

"I'd rather think it's nothing bad." She says. "Professor Heimdall said it's normal for sensitive students to have that reaction, isn't it?" She adds and you shrug. "Maybe she's just been watching you lose a game or something, but she was so overwhelmed with having seen something, that she got emotional."

"I hope you're right." You grumble as you reach the stairs. You sigh. "See you at lunch, girls. Have a good History of Magic class."

Gamora and Nebula wave goodbye and head in the opposite direction from you after they watch the staircase move.

You hurry to avoid being late for potions.

//-//

Mantis doesn't come to the dungeon either. You poke Quill in the back as he sits down in front of you, and ask if he's seen her anywhere, but he shrugs, worried that you don't know either. You just sigh, telling him what happened in class.

"I'm glad I didn't take that subject." He says as he hears the story. "I've heard that some people learn to see the day that the other person is going to die. That's scary."

You laugh incredulously.

"That sounds like a lie."

Quil shrugs his shoulders. "That's what I heard."

You wish you could talk more, however Professor Erik entered the room the next moment, and everyone fell silent. You tried to forget about the divination class by concentrating on making your poison antidote correctly next.

//-//

You only found Mantis at lunchtime.

Or rather, she found you.

You had just come out of charm class, and she was waiting for you outside. You looked at her with surprise and concern, but she just smiled, looking much more relaxed than earlier.

"I'm sorry I disappeared." She says. "Professor Heimdall thought it best that I get some rest, and then he taught me some things about aural sensitivity."

"I don't know what that means." You comment making her smile.

"It doesn't matter." She says. "I'm sorry for scaring you earlier."

You shake your head.

"Mantis, come on, no need to stress about it." You retort. "I was worried about you, and I'm sure it wasn't your fault."

Mantis smiles, looking forward. You bite the inside of your cheek, finding her strangely calm and distant.

"Do you remember what you saw in my cup?" You ask hesitantly, and a small glint passes through Mantis' eyes, but then she smiles quietly, denying it.

"It was no great thing, I believe." She says. "Professor Heimdall has assured me that it must have been just a bad memory, and that there is nothing to worry about."

You frown, but something in Mantis' expression tells you that she just won't talk about it anymore. Not wanting to make your friend uncomfortable, you don't press the issue again.

//-//

It's Christmas again, and you don't go home.

This year Hogwarts is much emptier than it usually is, and you know that it's because of the dementors.

The vast majority of the families, even those who usually leave their children at Hogwarts, have asked the students to return home. Your father briefly mentioned in his last letter how there were many requests for shift changes during the holiday period.

Tony also stayed in the castle, you knew he was planning to enter the forbidden section of the library, and he had told you to mind your own business when you asked if you could help.

Surprisingly, Gamora and Nebula returned home. It was very unusual because Thanos didn't like parties, but they promised to write to you. Mantis always returned home, so you just handed over your present before hugging her goodbye. Quill and the Maximoffs stayed with you.

"You know you're losing right?" you remarked with amusement as you were spending time with your friends in the Gryffindor communal room, a wizard chessboard in front of you. Quill let out an annoyed groan.

"That game is harder than it looks." He grumbled looking at the pieces. " Knight move to E3 please."

The piece moved, cursing softly that Quill was making a stupid move, and you laughed.

"Can't you see her bisbe right there you idiot? "Squinted the black item, and Quill sighed in irritation.

"You want to play by yourself, do you?" He retorted, and Pietro and Wanda who were watching you two, giggled.

"Are you talking to the game, Quill?" Pietro teased as if the boy in front of him was crazy.

After you beat Peter, it was your turn to face Pietro. He was a much better player, but he still made a lot of thoughtless moves.

Someone walked past the door, and you heard noises of footsteps, and then there was a girl joining you all.

"Hey, Monica!" Pietro greeted the girl cheerfully as soon as he saw her. The girl smiled at him. "Guys, this is Monica Rambeau, she is..."

"Professor Rambeau's daughter." Quill completes as if it is obvious. And you and Wanda smile at the girl. "Everybody knows Monica, man."

"What are you guys doing?" The girl asks curiously.

"Playing chess."

"Losing at chess, you mean right?" you tease with a smile. Pietro and Quill laugh in agreement, Wanda is distracted by the book in her hands.

"Do you want to hang out with us?" Pietro asks.

"Actually, I'm going to go outside." Monica says excitedly. "I just went in to get a coat. Darcy and I are going to make a snowman. Why don't you guys join us?"

You exchange glances with your friends. They all seem to think the same thing. And that's how you end up in the outside yards, in a snowball war.

" Back off, Pietro, I'm on your team!" You yell at the older Maximoff who has just hit you with an icy snowball to the chest. Pietro laughs.

"In war it's every man for himself!" He shouts running toward you. You laugh as you run away from him, preparing to hit Quill who is in the opposite direction.

"Hey, get down!" You heard someone shout and you turned around, obeying the order as soon as you noticed Darcy's raised arm toward you. She threw a snowball at someone behind you, and you laughed when Pietro let out an exclamation. Running toward the girl, you thanked her with a wave of your hand before running back.

After hitting Monica and Quill twice, you ran out of Pietro's reach when he appeared at your side, laughing. Stumbling, you ended up miscalculating your speed, and knocked Wanda down next.

"That's a foul." Joked Pietro as he watched you two fall, laughing along with both of you. Before he could throw a snowball at you, Quill was back and he ran. You helped Wanda up as you apologized for knocking her down.

"One point each." She says holding the snowball at chest height. You smile, and wait for her to throw the snow at you. She laughs when she has done so gently, pushing the ball against your shoulder, the icy liquid running down your blouse making you shiver slightly.

You pick up a snowball from the ground next, but when you look at Wanda, her face flushed with cold, and emerald eyes sparkling with amusement, you don't have the heart, and just smile wryly, making her look at you curiously.

"What is it?" she asks confused by the way you are just looking, making no mention of throwing the snow at her.

But the moment was broken next, when you all heard an animalistic noise nearby, and turned your heads with curiosity.

A few meters away was the guardian of the lands, Drax, leading a line of winged horses through the snow. You and your friends let out a chorus of excitement.

"Wow, look at the size of those horses." Pietro commented looking in the same direction.

"They're not horses, people!" Monica exclaimed excitedly. "They're unicorns! Mom said we were going to study them next class don't you remember?"

Only when Monica said this did you squeeze your eyes shut to get a better look, and you could see the white horns in the distance. Drax waved at you from a distance when he noticed that you all were looking. He led the horses to the area where the class on Magical Creatures was usually held, and you saw that Professor Rambeau was waiting for him.

After that, it seemed to get colder. And you all decided to go inside and have some hot chocolate, as you took your friends into the kitchens. The elves were happy to serve you sweet breads and cakes, even outside of dinner time.

//-//

On Christmas morning, all of your friends, including Tony and Natasha who was Tony's only friend to stay at Hogwarts, gathered at the same table in the main hall for the gift exchange.

"Stop fussing, boy, you'll mess up the presents!" You heard Darcy complain to Quill. She and Monica were also with you because Pietro invited them. Neither of you guys minded, because they were very nice.

"I'm just trying to get a peek." Retorted Peter raising the gift package in the air out of Darcy's reach.

"It's not your gift, so you can't look!"

You laughed at the interaction, finishing opening the package in front of you. Natasha had given you a new collection of wand care products and you loved it.

"You do need to take better care of your wand indeed." Teased Tony when he saw the gift. You laughed while waving a middle finger at him, and stood up to hug Nat in appreciation.

Most of the gifts were clothes, and candy. You bought a collection of exploding snap cards for Quill, and he was very pleased, already throwing the cards on the table to play with everyone. Pietro and Monica eventually agreed to participate, while Darcy watched them.

"That's mine right there." You said shyly to Wanda as she picked up one of the packages from the stack. "I hope you like it."

Wanda bit her lower lip in anticipation as she opened the package. And when the red scarf became visible, she fell silent, and it was your turn to be nervous.

"I know you're from Slytherin and all, but I've noticed that you really like red." You hasten to justify. "And then I saw this scarf in Hogsmeade and I remembered that day after charms class that you forgot your scarf and Pietro lent you his and so I thought it would be a good idea and..."

"I loved it." She interrupts looking at you. Her cheeks redden and a tender smile on her lips. You relax with relief immediately.

"Oh, right." You say. "Good, then."

You think you've been looking into Wanda's eyes too long, because your face is starting to heat up. But Peter gives a celebratory shout for getting the card move right, and you and Wanda look away quickly. She puts on her scarf next, and you look down at your lap to hide the silly smile that insists on escaping your lips.

//-//

When classes at Hogwarts return, the Dementors leave.

Apparently there was a big commotion in the Ministry of Magic. You hear many students commenting on this during the class break. And then there is a story in the Daily Prophet saying that Korvac was killed in combat with aurors in London, but there are also many people saying that this is a lie, and that he has run away again and the Ministry of Magic doesn't want to assume to the public.

Anyway, Headmistress Harkness removes the dementors from the castle and the atmosphere in the school improves considerably.

Nebula has a large purple mark on her left eye when she returns. Gamora tells everyone that she fell off her broomstick. You choke when she tells only you that it was Thanos who did this after he caught her snooping in his office.

"You can't tell anyone about this, okay?" She asks tearfully and you nod frantically, hugging her to calm her down. "I've never seen our father like that."

"It's okay now, Gamora." You say tightening in your embrace. "I will help you."

When you write to your father, asking what to do in a situation where the dangers are indoors, he says that Stark Mansion is big enough to accommodate your friends.

When you come home for the vacations after doing very well on your final exams, Gamora and Nebula are with you.

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wandavision #wandaxreader #wandamaximoffxreader #wanda maximoff imagines #wanda imagines #elizabeth olsen x reader #harry potter au #wanda x yn #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x yn #The Scarlet Witch Prophecy

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donutloverxo · 4 years

Text

Stevie's new beard

*gif by @marvelheroes*

Birthday shot #2 & Kinktober day 8 - Beard kink

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission.

Dividers by @whimsicalrogers

Summary - You have some strong feelings about Steve’s new look.

Warnings - 18+ only please, smut(m/f), dom Steve, daddy kink.

Pairing - Steve Rogers x female reader

Word count - 2.5k

Masterlists are linked in the bio!

One more swift turn over the corner, your eyes squinting as you tried to concentrate, “That’ll show him,” grumbling under your breathe, pressing the scissors down, “done.” With a smirk on your face.

You had been working on cutting out Steve’s face from your honeymoon album. An album you had spent hours on, your blood, sweet and tears, literally, you must’ve gotten like five paper cuts working on it. But none of that mattered. You were mad.

No, you were fuming.

The previous year, you hadn’t been able to celebrate your birthday with Steve since he was called on an emergency mission. Which was fine at the time you had only been dating for a few weeks. And when he went to Siberia over a month ago, you thought he’d be back for your birthday for sure. Then you’d get to have him pamper you and baby you for the whole day, not that you needed such an excuse, but still.

It was one in the morning, your birthday had already started and you doubted that Steve would be able to make it. He had gone silent a week ago, for his teams and your safety.

Well, by the time he’s back you’ll have cut him out of all your pictures. Maybe you’d even go stay at your sister’s for a while. You missed her and needed a vacation and teach Steve a lesson. You wouldn’t be back until he’s growling on his knees - begging for your forgiveness.

Or maybe... he wouldn’t care. Maybe he’d be glad that you’re gone. You didn’t know what you’d do if that happened, you always seem to be weighing him down. You understood that being married to Captain America meant that you had to share him with the rest of the world. Most of times, you were alright with that. You didn’t care much for the Captain, he was fine but he was no Steve Rogers.

You sighed, giving up on your little project, thinking about maybe calling it a night. Hopefully your friends remember your birthday and do something special for you.

Slipping into Steve’s t-shirt – because as much as you were mad at him, you really did miss him. This was the longest you had been away from him.

Fluffing your pillow, keeping Mister Steebie next to you, you climbed on top of it. Ready to switch off the lights -

“Hey there, sweetheart,” you gasped when you heard the low rumble, clutching your neck, taken aback and panting.

Taking a deep breathe, you looked at your door over your shoulder, sighing when you noticed it’s Steve.

Except it wasn’t...?

“What the fuck?” you frowned and did a double take.

Getting off your bed and walking over to the door. He was still dressed in his dark stealth suit, his dirty blonde hair swept back, his jaw covered in a thick beard - a few shades darker than his hair.

You stopped a few steps away from him, taking in his new look. You didn’t know what to make of it but it did make you shiver - for some reason.

Your lips pressed in a flat line as you stared at him. He spread his arms out, in an attempt to hug you, probably, trying to close the distance between you but you took a step back. Eyeing him suspiciously.

“What’s wrong, doll?” he tilted his head to the side, giving you his Disney eyes.

“What’s wrong with your face?” you spat.

“What do you mean?” his eyebrows scrunched together as he rubbed a hand over his beard.

“Don’t do that!” you admonished him, folding your hands under your titts, perking them up.

“Do what?” scratching his beard, “You’re not making any sense, doll. Didn’t you miss me?”

“I did,” you huffed, “Do you know what date it is?”

“Yes, I do know. That’s why I’m here. I got back as soon as the mission wrapped up. Now come here and let me give you a birthday kiss,” extending an arm towards you.

“Nuh-uh,” you shook your head.

“Why?” he pouted. “I made it back in time, just like I said I would. I missed you, come on just one kiss... wait a minute. Is this about the beard?” You nodded. “You hate it? Tony said you would, I just didn’t have time to shave. I’ll go do it now then.” Since he was desperate for kisses and cuddles.

“No, don’t!” You pressed a palm on his chest, in an effort to stop him. “I mean, sure if you want to... but I don’t hate it. It’s kind of the opposite... I think. I just need time to process this.”

“Doll,” he exasperated, sighing, 'politely’ trying to tell you off. “I’m tired. And you’re really not making any sense.”

“I just fucking love your beard, ok!” you snapped. Your cheeks heating up at the brash confession. Clenching your thighs together. You shouldn’t like it as much as you did. It hides Steve’s beautiful face and makes him look so feral and dangerous. So not Steve.

“Really?” he quirked a brow, pulling you flush against his chest, “how much do you like it, puppy?”

“I - I don’t know...” Still embarrassed, you hide your face over his heart, rubbing your cheek against the rough kevlar of his suit. “I like it a lot, I think. Please keep it?”

He hummed, “But you won’t even look at me.”

“It’s a lot to take in, okay? It’s like, ugh remember when you saw me in my wedding dress?”

He'd never forget, he had cried like a baby. “This is nothing like that,” he rolled his eyes.

“It’s... give me some time. Small steps.” Bringing up a shaky hand to touch his soft fuzzy jaw, “Oh! Remember that time I bought that forties style nightie. And you went to town on me?” looking up at him, “This is like that.”

He nodded, finally understanding. “I get it, doll. But I’m afraid I don’t have time for ‘small steps’. I missed you so much,” Rutting his erection into your belly - as if to physically prove it. “And I need to make your birthday special. Treat the birthday girl right, huh?” He pressed his thumb on your cheekbone, caressing it, dipping his neck down to kiss you but you pulled away.

You hugged him again, standing on your tippy toes and nuzzling your nose in the crook his neck, his beard tickling you ever so slightly.

“I thought you wouldn’t make it. That I’d be all alone.” You whined. And then he comes back looking this good! Making it impossible for you to stay mad at him.

“Of course, I made it. Couldn’t let my best girl be alone. Now let me kiss you,” you shook your head again, “fine then. We can do your small steps. Let me eat you out,” biting the shell of your ear, “I’m hungry, doll.”

There was no way you could say no to that. “Oh - okay,” you gulped a huge lump of air.

Suddenly, he swept you off your feet, throwing you over his shoulder, his hand kneading your ass before smacking it, “Missed this sweet ass too.” he said, throwing you on top of the mattress. “I like this shirt on you, pup,” he smiled, his heart swelled as he felt strangely possessive of you, hovering above you, “But it had to come off.”

With a lack of finesse, his greedy hands ripped the poor clothing to shreds. He hadn’t gone so long without you. He needed to be inside you as soon as he could.

“Stevie!” You tried to chastise him.

He threw the shirt away, growling at the sight of your naked breasts, your hard pebbles, your hands coming up to cover them from his dark eyes. That won’t do, he pulled them away, pinning them beside your head. “What do you think you’re doing?” he frowned

You shuddered. Really, a beard shouldn’t make that much of a significant difference but it made him all the more intimidating. “Sorry, daddy.” You pouted. If nothing else, the D-word always worked.

He shook his head, capturing a nipple in his mouth, grazing it with his teeth. He made sure to run his beard over your breast. Letting go of your twisting hand as it clenched on the back of his head. Your back arching, pushing more your body to him.

With a loud ‘pop’ he let go of your hard nub, shoving two fingers in your mouth and ordering you to suck and like he obedient doll you were - you followed.

He pulled his fingers out, snaking his hand between your legs, dipping them in your heat. Then he noticed it and frowned.

Looking to his side, a sack of flour? No, looked fluffy enough to be cotton. “What is this?” he wanted to know.

You were too far gone to even register his words but you vaguely heard him. You bit your lip, following his eyes. “Oh, that’s Mister Steebie.”

“What?”

“That’s you. I missed you and I needed a cuddle buddy. So I stuffed some cotton in a sack, dressed him in your flannel and drew your face on him.”

His 'face' was just two dots with a blue sharpie, golden hair on his head and a pink mouth. “It’s cute.” he chuckled, grabbing ‘Steebie' and putting him on the floor, “But you don’t need him. You have the real thing now,” he reminded you, trailing kisses down your body, pushing your thighs apart to make room for him and settling between them.

“I suppose I should upgrade him now. Draw the beard on. I wonder if I have a brown sharpie,” you mused, yelping when you felt his teeth grazing over your clit. “God!” you heaved, propping yourself up on your elbows you looked down at him. A few strands of his hair had fallen on his forehead, he looked ethereal. “You’re so pretty, Stevie.” Your hand caressing his face.

He leaned into it, having been touch starved for over a month. “You’re the pretty one, pup. Now, will you be good for me? Let me treat my birthday girl right?”

You nodded. Laying back down, running your fingers through his longer locks.

“Did you touch yourself while I was gone?” he asked

“No, I followed your rules.”

“Good, I didn’t either.” Not that he had the time or space to anyway. But he wanted to save himself for you.

“Thor told me, women like a nice thick beard,” rubbing his face on your inner thighs, “he’s a bit of an oversharer. But I knew you’d like it too. Guess I was right.” He was smug about it too. He knew you inside and out. More than anybody else, maybe more than you know yourself.

He pushed your thighs apart as you squirmed above him, trying to clamp them on his head. “Now, sweetheart. I thought you promised to be good. Do I need to tie you up?”

You furiously shook your head. “No, please! I’ll be good.” Normally, you’d love to be tied up. But you needed to touch him, his face and his hair.

“I know it’s hard, pup, just try a little harder,” He tongue nudging at your entrance. His fingers spreading your lips apart, “such a pretty pussy,” he praised.

Wrapping his mouth around your clit and pushing his fingers in your pussy. He made sure to gather as much of your slick over his beard as he could, to make a mess of it.

You threw your head back, trying your best to stay still, it was too overwhelming, too good, “Stevie! Stop, stop please,” you begged, pulling on his hair.

He immediately pulled away, hovering back over you, inspecting you for any distress.

“I want to come with you inside me. Please.” you said, fluttering your lashes.

He sighed, “Don’t scare me like that.”

“Come on! It’s my birthday. You have to do as I say,” you giggled.

“As you wish,” he shook his head. He would’ve given in even if it wasn’t your birthday.

His fingers scrambling to get his dick out of his suit. Kissing your neck, sucking on your special spot, he pushed inside you. Digging his fingers in your hips, he bit your neck, “So fucking tight, doll.” He groaned, he was at the end of his rope, he couldn’t take it anymore, snapping his hips with a swift thrust he buried himself inside you.

“Stevie,” you mewled, feeling his tip pressing against your special spot. “Right there!”

Pulling his cock out and then pushing back, “Here?” he wiggled his hips, pressing his lips to your jaw.

“Yeah,” you gave a shaky reply. Already on the edge as he kept ramming in on your g-spot. “Steve, kiss me please?” You needed to feel his lips on yours, to feel his beards on your face.

Circling a hand under your waist to pull you up and closer to him, his hips setting a punishing pace, he crashed his lips on yours. Clashing your teeth together. He moaned as you pulled his bottom lip with your teeth, before kissing him again.

Letting go of his lips, just for a second to pepper kisses all over his beard and then kissing him deeply.

You clenched around his length, pulling his hair, biting the hilt to his jaw to stifle your scream. Waves of pleasure crashing over you one after another.

He came right after you, with a few more thrusts, filling you to the brim. He collapsed on top of you, careful not to crush you.

He laid beside you, on his side your bodies still connected. He couldn’t have any of his spend escaping your tight cunt.

He kissed the crown of your head. “You liked your first gift?” he asked as you hummed. “Don’t worry, I got plenty more for you.” he smirked already feeling himself get hard again in your pussy.

When you were quiet for a while, so unusual for you, your fingers playing with his beard, “What’s wrong, pup?” He tilted your face up so he could see it.

“Nothing,” you shook your head. Suddenly feeling guilty for ruining your precious pictures. “They need you more than I ever will - your team and this world.”

“That’s... true. You don’t need me. You’re a strong woman, if anything I need you. But that’s a good thing, sweetheart. You want me. And that's enough for me.”

“Really?” Your lips curling up in a big grin as you nuzzled his beard, feeling awfully proud of yourself.

Steve’s heart was big enough to share him with the entire world. That he could still love you more than you could even begin to comprehend. And always make his way back to you. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

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#steve rogers x reader #kinktober #marvel kinktober #berrysbirthday #chris evans x reader #steve x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers x you #marvel x reader #avengers x reader #steve rogers x female reader

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mikkomacko · 3 years

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Domestic Wolf 2: The Return of Bucky Barnes

Hello everyone! I’m back with more Domestic Wolf, this time in a bit of a flashback. If you haven’t read the first part here it is!

Part 3

Thanks for reading!

Warnings: Angst, Smut, Mentions of death, Sad Bucky :(

2023

The address in Queens sits useless in his text messages, ready for him to click on for directions but he doesn't need it. Truth is, he doesn't even need to read it anymore considering it's been burned into his mind since she first sent it to him. Almost a week ago the text had come through with the address, followed by a sweet message of "come home soon or I'll kick your ass".

It wasn't the first time she told him that and he's certain it won't be last.

By the time he's at the iron gate of the building, hands tucked into the pockets of his leather jacket, Bucky's feeling like the man that would show up on her doorstep in Romania all those years ago, guided by loneliness and guilt. Back then he had nothing but her. Now he has nothing but her. It's like stepping back in time, back to the apartment he'd hide out in for as long as he could, grounding himself to a new world with the help of a woman that always cared for him. She picked him back up after Hydra, dusted him off and kissed the wounds better. And he knows she'll do it again now, more dusting and kisses for the fact that he just lost another 5 years of his life and his best friend.

Bucky doesn't know this world, doesn't trust it. Even when he was on the run he didn't trust the world. It's why he always kept them hidden, only took her out into the city late at night when he knew he'd could keep her safe, keep her as his little secret. It's also why he refused to let her travel up-state for him, refused to let her meet him outside on the sidewalk. He doesn't know who or what could be out here, and until he does, she's remaining hidden.

A quick glance up and down the street, Bucky let's out a nervous puff of air and opens the faux lock on the gate. She had told him on the phone that it wasn't real, at one time it had been but it broke awhile ago and was never replaced. He hated it then and he hates it now, so he makes a mental note to get her landlord to replace it.

Through the entryway, up the flights of stairs, and to the fifth floor. Maybe he should be looking around, taking more note of the details of this building but he can't bring himself to do it right now because his girl is waiting for him. She's been waiting for him since he left to Wakanda 7 years ago and he's tired of it. He wants- no needs - to see her right now.

5B. A dark blue door with a little rug in front that reads "Hello, is it me you're looking for" with a depiction of who Bucky believes to be Lionel Richie but he's not sure. Y/n liked a lot of different musicians. It's hard to keep track of who sings what.

Bucky's boots have barely touched the mat before the door is ripping open. His eyes meet hers, tears already welling on her waterline and Bucky's sting with tears of his own. Body moving instinctively, he steps into the apartment, kicking the door shut with his foot and reaching for her waist.

"Doll..."

"Bucky..."

She flings herself at him with enough force to knock him over if it weren't for the serum running through him, legs around his hips and arms around his neck. He tucks his face into her neck, fingers trembling as they grip her back, her shoulders, her hips, anywhere he can get his hands on. It's surreal, holding her again. He hasn't felt her skin, heard her voice, kissed her lips since he went under after Zemo scrambled his brain again.

"I missed you, so much Bucky." She whispers, voice cracking under the stress of the sentiment, and he's reminded that while it's been a long time for him, it's been even longer for her. He died. He was gone, wiped from the Earth and she had no idea if he was coming back or not. Had the roles been reversed, had he been the one left standing here while she was reduced to dust, he can't imagine staying as sane as she has. He has a feeling an unwelcomed friend would've returned and he probably would have done things to pile onto his ever present guilt. Another reason why he doesn't deserve her.

"It's ok sweetheart," he promises, voice thick. "I'm back and I'm not going anywhere, ok?" She pulls back from him, just enough to cup his face in her right hand. Her thumb brushes over his cheek bone, wiping away tears he didn't know he shed, and he takes a moment to admire her.

Her hair is longer, face thinner, and dark circles sit under her swollen eyes. She looks exhausted, like she's been holding the weight of the world on her shoulders for far too long but her eyes hold all the joy in the world. She's happy and beautiful and even better than he remembered.

"I can lock you up in here," she offers, bottom lip trembling but still smiling. "they'd never find you again."

He can't stop himself. He kisses her for the first time in years, soaks up her startled gasp and replaces it with a hum of contentment. Her fingers tangle in his hair, nudging his lips even closer to hers, and he grips the back of her neck to remind her that he's here, he'll always be here.

"Just you and me, huh?" He murmurs, mouths still hovering close. She smiles shakily, tilting her head to kiss the corner of his mouth and giggling when his beard tickles her lips.

Just Bucky and his girl.

His jacket finds its way to the floor of the entryway, a pool of leather on the light wood panels. His boots are kicked off, toppled haphazardly next to her shoes by the door. Two leather gloves are thrown onto the table leading to the living room. Her shirt sits with his, layered on top of each other in the living room. She's somehow managed to wiggle a hand between the two of them, enough to unbutton and lower the zipper of his black jeans. In a room he doesn't care to admire yet, sat on the edge of the large matress with her on his thighs, Bucky's breaths tremble as y/n ghosts her fingers over his left shoulder. The last time she saw him like this, his arm was still made of the same silver metal that had ruined so many lives, hurt so many people. And yeah he'd gotten this one in order to fight another war, one he lost before actually winning, but at least this time he was fighting for the side he actually believes in.

He reminds himself of that when she kisses over his heart. "They're gone," she murmurs, pointer finger trailing over what used to be scar tissue, mangled flesh, and nail marks.

"They're there if you look hard enough."

She looks up at him through her eyelashes, understanding the double meaning. Shuri couldn't erase them entirely, not on his skin and not in his soul.

"The good thing about scars," she says, "is that they don't hurt you anymore. And eventually you accept the weight of them."

He kisses her again, unable to voice his appreciation and love for her. His fingers slip under the band of her jeans, digging into the soft flesh and her own dominant hand finds it's way into his pants, groping at the chub on the inside of his thighs and ghosting over the bulge in his boxers. Bucky manages to pull her bottoms down, nudging her up to her feet so she can kick them off.

Giggling, she presses a sloppy kiss to his chin before dropping to her knees between his thighs. A kiss to the scar just above his belly button pulls a laugh from him, Bucky burying his fingers in her hair to keep it from falling in her face. Her fingers grip the sides of his jeans and boxers, and he lifts his hips so she can pull them both down in one go.

Maybe they should be talking, reacquainting with one another. After all, he knows nothing about how she got here. Where's she working? Why'd she pick Queens to live? Why did she leave Romania? What's she been doing the past five years? But maybe they need to find each other physically first. Because it's been so long since they've touched each other, loved each other. And this is how it started all those years ago. The first real thing Bucky was able to give to her after Hydra was his body. That was all he had, and luckily for him she accepted it and cherished it. For the first time since the 40s his body had been used for good.

Maybe that's what they both need again.

Bucky finds himself sprawled out on the bed, head on her pillows and hands on her waist as she climbs on top of him. Their mouths meet again, a soft groan leaving his lips as she threads her fingers through his hair. Out of habit he reaches for her bedside table, sitting up just slightly to open the drawer. Y/n moves her kisses to his jaw, breath hot on his skin. By the time he's registered that's he's reaching for condoms that probably aren't there, his fingers catch on a familiar box.

"How long have these been here doll?" He asks, praying to the Gods that they're not expired. Or even worse, that they'd been there for someone else to use. The thought makes him ache so painfully he'd rather have his brain fried again than imagine someone else loving on his girl.

She pulls back, meeting his eyes with a cheeky smile. "A week."

A week. About the time she got that first phone call from him, the call that confirmed Steve's and the Avengers success in bringing everyone back. She went out and bought him condoms as soon as she found out that he was alive. Needy girl.

"Went shopping for me sweetheart?" He teases, pecking her lips and tearing open the box. He digs out a foil, tossing the box off to the side, hearing it clatter to the floor.

Laughing, she kisses him again. "What can I say, I missed you Sarge." Bucky's dick throbs, groaning dramatically at the name. She occasionally called him Sarge back in Romania, after he'd come to terms with the memories that plagued and confused him. Sarge made him comfortable. He knew he used to be a Sergeant, could feel it deep in his bones that that was a title he held with pride. Hearing her say it to him, in a way that had his spine tingling. Like she was proud of him too. Bucky will never be able to explain how good that makes him feel.

She takes the packet from his fingers, kissing the tip of his nose with a coy smile as she opens it. He barely gets the chance to grip the back of her neck and bring her lips back to his before she's gripping him in her hand, stroking him a couple times and giggling through his choked gasp. The condom is rolled down his length, her fingers familiar and comforting on his skin, welcomed.

"Come on doll," he whispers, lashes fluttering as she drags the head of him through her soaked folds. Then she's sinking down on him, slowly easing his cock deeper and deeper. Bucky's toes curls, stomach swirling, and skin burning in pleasure.

"Oh God," y/n breaths, nails digging into Bucky's chest as her nose scrunches and her eyes fall shut. He takes a hold of her waist, sitting up against the headboard so he can pull her chest closer to his. She moves with him easily, melting in his hold when he presses his lips to her shoulder. His right hand drops to cup her ass, pulling her hips up and then guiding them back down until she's carefully riding him.

"Let me hear you baby," he requests, brushing his lips under her ear. "haven't heard your voice in so long."

Y/n's fingers tug at his hair, drawing his mouth back to hers for a brief kiss. "Haven't felt you in so long, Buck," she whispers back, teasingly. His cock pulses as she rolls her hips on him.

"Been waiting for me?" He asks, dragging his lips down her collar bone. She nods, a breathy "Yes" escaping her above him. "Poor doll, waiting for me all these years."

"Worth it," she says with conviction. "you're always worth it."

A kiss over her heart, Bucky digging his nose into her soft skin to feel her heartbeat. He pulls her down on his cock, grinning when the beat stutters in time with her gasp. He loves it, loves hearing her, feeling her. Unable to help himself any longer, Bucky digs his heels into the sheets and starts fucking up into her, hips meeting hips.

The noises she makes, the moans of his name make his belly tighten and his cock twitch, enough to have him nearing his end far sooner than he hoped. It's been so long since he's had her and he can't even get his fucking dick to cooperate. A tug on his hair and a quick bounce of her hips has him biting back a moan, almost frantic as he moves his left hand between them, thumb finding her clit. The sob that leaves her has his head spinning, Bucky occupying his mouth with her pebbled nipple to keep from moaning. He still hasn't gotten used to the fact that he can openly make noise now, something he used to work on around her, but he prefers using it as an excuse to keep his mouth occupied elsewhere.

"Fuck, so close Bucky," she pants, thighs trembling around his and he takes it upon himself to hold her full weight with his free arm, lifting her up and pulling her back down on his cock. He feels like a whole different man when his orgasm hits, burying his face in her chest with a loud groan.

"Oh doll, so good y/n, so fucking good."

She follows shortly after him, nails digging into his bicep and scalp, body trembling and clenching. He coaxes her through it with wet kisses and gentle circles of his thumb on her sensitive bud. His bones and muscles feel like jelly when he relaxes back into the pillows, carding his fingers through her messy hair while the other strokes over her hip.

"If I knew this would be my homecoming," he murmurs, "I would've been back days ago."

She giggles, cheeks rosy and eyes bright. "Isn't this the proper way to welcome a soldier home?"

He smiles and shrugs, bittersweet. "Wouldn't know doll, this is my first time making it home."

"You wanna tell me what happened?"

Her thumb strokes over his bottom lip, dropping down to the dimple in his chin, and Bucky sighs contently. Truth is, he doesn't want to tell her what's happened. He doesn't want to talk about Wakanda, or Thanos, or being dead, or Steve leaving. He just wants to be here with her, pretending that he's normal for once in his God damn life.

"How about you tell me first doll?" He whispers, his eyes soaking up the sight of her. "Last time I saw you, you were saving lives in Bucharest."

"Actually, I was sitting in Wakanda with the love of my life," she corrects, smiling. His heart flutters happily, ears heating up with a blush. Pretending to blow her comment off, he rolls his eyes and chuckles.

"Alright, what happened after that?"

Inhaling deeply, she settles further back against the headboard. Bucky tilts his head up, just enough to kiss her stomach through the fabric of his t-shirt before laying his head back in her lap. Her fingers card through his hair as she speaks.

"I stayed in Romania after you went under, kept working at the camp and stuff. Steve would call sometimes, make sure I was ok," she lets out a little laugh, oblivious to Bucky's sudden nausea at the sound of his best friend's name. "We actually broke into your old apartment. It was still technically a crime scene but I knew there was stuff in there that you'd want."

"Doll," he interrupts with a sigh, "you didn't have to do that. It-all that stuff was just stuff."

Her fingers pull on his hair, enough to make him wince. "Not to me," she insists, "That "stuff" was you a-and us. It was our life before we were even allowed to have a life and I couldn't just let them box it up as evidence."

Guilty, Bucky swallows the lump in his throat and nods. Of course those things, the letters and drawings and stories all meant something to him, but not enough for her and Steve to risk punishment for. Never enough for that. He wishes she'd see that.

"After Thanos," she continues, voice falling weak. "I stayed in Romania for as long as I could, trying to help everyone. It-it was pure chaos, all these people trying to figure out what was going on. And the whole time I kept thinking of you. As soon as footage of the attack in New York got out, I knew he'd be going for you. I-I thought that you'd be fine. You're so fucking stubborn I knew there's no way you wouldn't survive.

"Even when people started to disappear, I didn't-I couldn't even convince myself that you would be one of them. It was a few days later when Steve called. I knew before I even answered the phone."

At the first sniffle, Bucky sits up, pushing himself to sit next to her. Before he can even reach for her, she's climbing into his lap, laying her head on his right shoulder and setting her hand over his heart. He holds her tight, trying his best to soak up her tears.

"It was so unfair Bucky," she whimpers, "because I was just about to get you back a-and you were supposed to finally be happy and he took you from me. After everything you've been through, you lost even more of your life and I couldn't do a damn thing about it."

Fighting back his own tears, he shushes her. "I'm here now, and I'm happy," he promises. "I'm always happy when I'm with you. What happened isn't your fault y/n. I'd never blame you for that."

If possible, she snuggles even closer to him. "I thought I could ignore it. I could stay there and pretend you were still just in Wakanda, getting better so that you could come home."

Bucky's heart aches at that. Picturing his girl, his kind and strong girl, saving and repairing lives in a war torn society, pretending that the man who loves her will be coming home soon when it reality he didn't exist anymore...it all hurts him too much. It's all too much, especially knowing that she loves him enough to live in denial just to imagine he's with her.

"But everyone kept asking who I lost, where were we when it happened and I kept insisting that it didn't matter because you were coming back and we were going to live happily ever after. I realized that we don't have a home, you and I, and I remembered you talking about moving to Brooklyn one day. That you wanted to go back to your home city.

"I couldn't bring myself to move there without you. It didn't feel right. So I picked Queens. It's close and the hospital nearby had an opening in the ER, so I figured why not? That way when Steve got off his ass and decided this time he was going to save his best friend, you'd have somewhere to come home to."

Steve, his best friend. The man that couldn't find enough of a reason to stay. Bucky wasn't enough to make him stay, because he has his soulmate here with him, and Steve's was long gone. He chose love over friendship and Bucky wishes he could hate him for that, but he can't, because he chose y/n too. If it weren't for her, he'd have been begging to go back to the 40s too.

Gently, he grips her chin between his thumb and forefinger, guiding her to look up at him. Through wet eyelashes and puffy eyes, she looks at him with so much love he can feel it burning in his chest. A kiss to each of her tear stained cheeks.

"Thank you doll," he whispers, "for never giving up on me. For doing all this for me-for us." He swipes his knuckle over her chin, smiling softly when she giggles. He missed that. "I love you."

He kisses her, cupping her jaw and pulling her into him until it feels like they're one being. Her fingers trace over the edge of his left arm, chills running up his spine. He missed that too.

"You're getting soft on me James," she teases breathlessly, smiling against his lips. He hums in agreement. He did get soft for her, but he doesn't fucking care. No one will ever make him feel bad for loving her. "I love you too Buck. Always will."

#domestic wolf #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #fluff #angst #smut #fanfic #fanfiction #marvel #winter soldier #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #nurse!reader

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