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yelena-bellova · 3 years

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Safe Haven: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader - Chapter Six

chapter five - Chapter Six: Ten Minutes - chapter seven

Series Masterlist

Plot: Y/n, Sam, Bucky and Zemo investigate around Riga for any sign of the Flag Smashers, Y/n and Bucky spend some unconventional time together.

Word Count: 6.9k

Warnings: spoilers for episode. 4, a little language, flirty Bucky (which is a warning in and of itself, Walker’s an asshole, Y/n is still a badass, sloooow burn, lil’ bit of spice 🔥

A/N: First off, I just want to thank everybody for all the kind messages/asks/comments you've left on this series. I honestly didn’t expect this kind of response when I started writing this and have been blown away with each chapter. Seriously, it means a lot! 🥰 Okay so I’m not gonna lie, this chapter’s a little slower than usual whereas next chapter is going to be...well, if you’re reading this you’ve seen the episode so you obviously know lol. But this chapter sets up some pretty big shit so it’s not useless, enjoy!!

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I felt like a bit of a romantic cliche as I threw myself facedown on Zemo’s living room couch, hot off the heels of my realization about Bucky. But seeing as we didn’t have any leads and the Super Soldier wasn’t back from his “walk,” I felt I had earned it. “Hey,” I felt the weight of a jacket land on my back, “Whatcha got going on in that head?” I chuckled into the pillow, if Sam could see the thoughts bouncing around my brain, he’d have his wings on in a flash and would be flying around the city hunting Bucky down. Luckily, Bucky wasn’t the only thing I was thinking about. I turned on my side to see him sitting on a barstool in the kitchen, “I don’t think I give you enough credit for what you do.” “What are you talking about?”

“I knew that avenging wasn’t some cushy day job but,” I swung my legs over the couch and sat up, “I never realized how hard it actually was and this isn’t even one of the harder missions!” Sam smirked and raised his brows, “An army of Super Soldiers isn’t enough for you? You want more?”

I rolled my eyes, “I’m just saying, you’ve faced a whole lot worse. I tangle with a couple bounty hunters and I’m gonna be aching for weeks,” I rose with a groan, eliciting a chuckle out of Sam, “Don’t get me wrong, I like what we’re doing, but I definitely underestimated how challenging it was.” “You’re doing a better job than you think,” Sam said, “I know yesterday was hard on you, but you’re handling all of the really well. I’m proud of you.” I made my way over to him and put an arm around his shoulder, “Still regret bringing me?” “Nah,” he locked an arm around my waist and pulled me into his side, “It’s nice having you here, it’s like having a little piece of home with me.” Since we were in grade school, Sam had been one of the only constants in my life and sitting in the middle of Latvia chasing down Super Soldiers, I had never been more thankful for him. I knew that becoming Captain America was out of the question but if ever there were a Cap that I would follow, it would have been Sam.

The front door and the bathroom door opened at the same time, revealing Bucky back from his walk and Zemo from his shower.

“Well, the Wakandans are here,” Bucky announced as he came to the center of the room, “They want Zemo. Bought us some more time.”

“Were you followed?” Sam asked, both of us unwrapping our arms from around one another. “No.” “How can you be so sure?” Zemo asked, staring out the stained glass windows.

“Cause I know when I’m being followed,” Bucky replied, coming to stand across from me on the other side of the kitchen island.

“It was sweet of you to defend me at least,” Zemo said.

“Hey, you shut it,” Sam turned his attention to the Baron, “No one’s defending you. You killed Nagal.”

“Do we really have to litigate what may or may not have happened?” Zemo replied.

I leaned up against the island and squinted at the man, “There’s nothing to litigate, we all watched you shoot the guy.”

“Sam, Y/n…” We both turned to face Bucky, staring down at his phone intently. “Karli bombed a GRC supply depot.”

“What?” I said breathlessly, “Were there any casualties?”

“Eleven injured, three dead,” Bucky read the article, “They have a list of demands and are promising more attacks if those demands aren’t met.”

Zemo walked around the island to grab a pack of cookies, “She’s getting worse. I have the will to complete this mission. Do the three of you?” “She’s just a kid,” Sam said calmly, defending the young girl so many saw as a villain.

“You’re seeing something in her that isn’t there,” Zemo waved him off, “You’re clouded by it. She’s a supremacist. The very concept of a Super Soldier will always trouble people. It’s that warped aspiration that led to Nazis, to Ultron…to the Avengers.” “Hey, those are our friends you’re talking about,” Sam stepped quickly.

“The Avengers, not the Nazis,” Bucky followed up with.

Sam continued, “So, Karli is radicalized, but there has to be a peaceful way to stop her.”

“The desire to become a superhuman cannot be separated from supremacist ideals,” Zemo said, “Anyone with that serum is inherently on that path. She will not stop. She will escalate until you kill her,” the room’s silence became a whole lot heavier, “Or she kills you.” “Maybe you’re wrong, Zemo,” Bucky spoke up, “The serum never corrupted Steve.” “Yeah,” I agreed, peeking over my shoulder at Bucky, “But it didn’t corrupt you either.” Zemo picked up a ring shaped cookie on his finger and pointed to Bucky, “Touché, but there has never been another Steve Rogers, has there?” He popped the cookie in his mouth and shrugged, turning away from us to make further use of the kitchen.

“Well,” Bucky made his way to the living room, “Maybe we should give him to the Wakandans right now.” “And you’ll give up your tour guide?” Zemo asked, searching through cupboards.

“Yes,” Bucky answered harshly before sitting himself on the couch, leaning his head back and shutting his eyes.

“From my understanding,” Sam said, “Donya is like a pillar of the community, right? So when I was a kid, my TT passed away-“ “Your-“ Bucky squeezed his eyes shut and leaned forward, “Your TT?” “Yeah, my TT, yeah,” Sam replied plainly.

“Who is your TT?” Bucky annoyedly and confusedly asked. I chuckled at the exchange from beside Sam, “His aunt. The whole neighborhood had this big ceremony, it lasted like a week.” “Maybe they’re doing the same thing for Donya,” Sam finished.

“Worth a shot,” Bucky shrugged.

“Your TT would be proud of you,” Zemo said to Sam before tossing him a wrapped candy, “Turkish Delight, irresistible.” ——

We were out the door soon after and heading to Donya’s last known location, a refugee camp in the downtown area.

“Shame what’s become of this place,” Zemo commented when we arrived, “When I was young, we used to come here for fabulous dinners and parties. I knew nothing of the politics of the time, of course, but I remember it being beautiful.” It was hard to picture the beige building ever having been beautiful, the setting was so dismal and grey. It was filled with children and workers, refugees, who all collectively looked worn down. The GRC poster that hung on one of the walls that showed smiling families with their mission statement ‘Reset. Restore. Rebuild.’ was a stark contrast to what those words actually delivered.

“We’ll take a look around upstairs,” Sam said, gesturing to me before turning to Bucky, “See what you can find out and keep an eye on him.”

I left with Sam, climbing the quiet building’s staircase and wandering down the hall. Sam headed through an open doorway that led to a sewing room. “Hey, kid,” he called to one of them, “Excuse me,” he approached one of the only ones who hadn’t run out of the room at our presence, “You heard of Donya Madani?”

“Um,” the girl said, rising from her seat and making for another room, “No. Sorry, no.”

We stood there dumbstruck in the suddenly empty room, it wasn’t until Sam caught the Flag Smasher’s handprint symbol on a sewing box and pointed it out to me that the locked lips made sense. I took the lead and navigated through the crowded rooms, spotting another young person leaving at the sight of us. “Excuse me, do you know the name Donya Ma-“ The boy shut the door on me before I could finish my sentence, I turned to Sam who was close behind me. “Something’s not right,” I mumbled, walking in step with him further down the hall. We finally stumbled upon what looked like a classroom, one man crouched was next to a desk helping a kid and a table with two others who didn’t bolt at the sight of us.

“Excuse me,” Sam announced our presence, “Do you know a woman by the name of Donya Madani?”

The teacher stood to his full height, “We’re not refugees, for we have nothing to seek refuge from. We’re internationally- displaced persons, for what it’s worth, and we don’t trust outsiders.”

“No, I understand,” Sam stepped forward, “I’m not from here, but I have a pretty good track record of helping out.” “I know what happens when people say they’re going to help out,” the teacher tiredly stated, “Nothing. The Global Repatriation Council promised to send more teachers, supplies. That was six months ago.” “What’s your name? I can make a call,” Sam offered immediately, ever the helper.

“I know who you are, but I can’t trust you. I’m sorry,” the man dismissed him, grabbing his other two students and ushering them out of the room, “Let’s go.” The silence was sobering for us both, we may not have found anything about Donya but we’d certainly stumbled upon something of importance. And as we left the building with our heads metaphorically hung, I could feel that he was just as impacted as I was by it. “I didn’t realize it was so bleak,” I said as we went down the stairs, “The government’s done a great job of painting a different picture for people like us.”

“That could be said for a lot of things,” he replied, “But no, I didn’t think it was this bad either.”

We rejoined Bucky who was watching Zemo intently as he sat in front of a grouping of kids, a pile of candy in between them. “This is starting to feel like a dead end,” Sam commented.

“The hell is he doing?” Bucky accompanied.

“And why in Latvia does nobody raise an eyebrow at a stranger offering kids candy?” I observed as Zemo stood, approached the kids once more and came back to us. “Cute kids,” he smiled, leaving the three of us to share an unconvinced look after.

——

We returned to our hideout shortly after, defeated and all too aware of how fast the clock was ticking.

“Well, I got nothin’,” Bucky said as the three of us made our way to the couch, “No one’s talkin’ about Donya.” “Yeah, it’s because Karli is the one fighting for them,” Sam replied, “And she’s not wrong.” “What do you mean?” Bucky’s tone was low and exhausted, but I could have sworn that his eyes brightened for a millisecond when I plopped down next to him.

Sam sighed, “For five years, people have been welcomed into countries that have kept them out using barbwire. There were houses and jobs. Folks were happy to have people around to help them rebuild. It wasn’t just one community coming together, it was the entire world coming together. And then, boom,” he snapped his fingers, “Just like that, it goes right back to the way it used to be. To them, at least Karli’s doin’ something.” “He’s right,” I chimed in, memories of how the world was for five years flooded my brain, “Things were messy but they were…one. Everybody came together because we needed to, there was less room for segregation or prejudice. When things went back, the government made some really bad decisions. And for those of us who weren’t blipped, it was difficult to watch. I’m not saying that I support the Flag Smashers but I do understand why Karli’s doing what she’s doing.” “You really think her ends justify her means?” Bucky’s furrowed brows bounced between Sam and I, “Then she’s no different than him,” he gestured to Zemo who was making tea, “Or anybody else we’ve fought.” “I didn’t say that. She’s different,” I argued, tucking my legs under me and twisting to fully face him, “She's not fighting for word domination or something, she’s fighting for those who’ve lost everything. She’s just...misguided in her approach. ”

Zemo came and set the tray of cups and tea down on the table in front of us, a little too quiet. “That girl,” Bucky addressed him, “What’d she tell you?” The Baron kept up his silence as he thought to himself, eyes flicking between the three of us. “The funeral is this afternoon.” I blinked and awaited the rest of the answer, “That’s all you want to say?” “You know the Dora’s coming for you any minute,” Bucky stated, a bit of amusement in his eyes at the thought of the Wakandan warriors taking him away, “In fact, they’re probably lurking outside right now. Keep talking.” “Leaving you to turn on me once we get to Karli,” Zemo hummed, “I prefer to keep my leverage.” Exasperatedly, I looked over to Sam who looked just as done with the Sokovian royal as I was. Bucky rose from beside me and circled around to face Zemo, ripping the glass heeled in his hands and launching it at the wall, it shattered upon impact. “You wanna see what someone can do with leverage?” Bucky growled, I had to ignore the pit in my stomach that developed anytime Bucky’s voice reached a low decibel.

Sam and I were up and ready to deescalate the situation, him stepping behind Zemo and me placing a hand around Bucky’s metal arm. “Take it easy,” Sam said cautiously, “Don’t engage him. He’s just gonna extort you and do that stupid head tilt thing.” I turned in towards Bucky, the close proximity allowing me to talk softer. “He’s not worth it,” I muttered, his head moving slightly in my direction as I spoke.

“Let me make a call,” Sam said, walking off and slapping Bucky on the shoulder as he left.

My loyalty to Bucky prevented me from leaving until I knew he was alright and wouldn’t pummel our only lead to a pulp. As his stare lessened in intensity, so did my grip till my fingers ghosted over his bicep. “You want some cherry blossom tea?” Zemo awkwardly asked. “No, you go ahead,” Bucky answered with contempt, walking away with me following close by.

“So what are we supposed to do?” I asked as Bucky and I walked through the luxurious apartment, “Sit on our asses until he decides to give us breadcrumbs of information?”

“He’ll talk, eventually,” Bucky grumbled, “Even if I have to make him.” Why I was finding this side of him attractive, I couldn’t make sense of. Shoving that aside, I took the more practical approach. I gripped his arm to stop him from going further, “He wants to screw with your mind, don’t let him.”

Bucky bit down on his bottom lip and dropped his line of vision to the ground, silently admitting that I was right. There was something so strange about how easy him and I had become around one another so fast. I could level with him now like I’d known him for ages and he’d actually listen to me. The oddest part was that it felt so natural.

“Now,” I dropped my hand from his body and went to place it on my hip, “Sam’s on the- ow!”

“What? What is it?” Bucky jumped to attention, his metal hand instinctively reaching for my arm.

The pain had stemmed from my abdomen, radiating down to my waist. I pulled up the hem of my shirt and looked down to see an ugly purple bruise on my side. “Shit,” Bucky mumbled, bending down but quickly popping back up with an innocent gaze, “Can I…?” “Yeah,” I quickly replied, watching him crouch down to get a look at the injury, one of his metal fingers running over the colored skin with a featherlight touch. I prayed that he didn’t take notice of how my breath hitched when the cool Vibranium made contact with my body.

“How did you get this?” he asked with a laser-like focus on my stomach. “Must’ve been from yesterday in the shipyard,” I eked out, we were in close enough proximity that he was starting to cloud my head, “One of the bounty hunters had me in a death grip at one point.”

Bucky shook his head, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he rose back up. “I’ll be fine, it’s just a bruise,” I said, pulling my shirt back down when a lightbulb suddenly went off in my head, “Although…” “What?” “I think I’ve got an idea on how you can work out your aggression and this,” I pointed to my side, “Can happen less.” I made my way down the hall, trying to find the right door that would lead to the right room. Turning each knob, I finally found a set of french doors that led to a terrace with a view of the beautiful city. Expecting and correctly guessing that Bucky had followed me, I spun around to face him. “Teach me how to fight.” “Are you kidding?” Bucky’s scrunched in disbelief, “No.” “Come on,” I pleaded, “I think we can both agree that I’m lacking in combat skills and if we’re going to end up fighting more Super Soldiers, I need to be more prepared than last time. Plus,” I pointed a finger at him, “You’re pissed and you need to let it out.”

Bucky scoffed, “I’m not going to let it out on you.” Rolling my eyes thoroughly, I created a force field to separate the two of us, “I’m pretty sure I can handle myself. But if you want to let me get my ass kicked, that’s fine…”

I watched as he let out a single chuckle, “You’re really gonna be like that?” “Yes,” I replied, trying to contain my smile, “I’m really gonna be like that.

He took leisurely steps toward me and started to circle me. I turned with him to keep the force field between us, smirks spreading across both our faces. “Alright, fine. As long as you promise not to go full throttle on me,” he gestured to the hands that had blue energy flowing from them.

“Fine,” I thinned my eyes at him, absorbing the force field back into my body, “But you better keep that arm in check.”

We separated from each other and I walked to my corner of the terrace to remove my jacket. When I turned to see Bucky doing the same, my eyes fell to his fit torso that was threateningly to bust the seams of his tight black t-shirt. In the Latvian sun, you could see the outline of each muscle of his chest and each vein that bulged in his arms was highlighted. Since the first time I’d gotten close enough to admire him, I’d had no shame in admitting to myself that Bucky was attractive. Now that I was actually starting to fall for him, there was a nervousness that came with appreciating his roguish good looks. I shook my head and dragged my gaze away from his body, trying to focus on his eyes as we walked towards one another. Not that I was any better off, they were just as enticing as the rest of him was… “Do you know how to punch?” he asked, I held up a fist and he examined it, “Okay, so that’s a no.” He placed his hands on my hips gently as to not disturb my bruise and turned me around, “Bring one of your feet back and out a little,” he instructed, I listened and he took a step back to accommodate me. “Now,” his hands moved to lightly grasp my arms, “Tuck your elbows into your body.” I swallowed hard as I followed his directions, his chest was now almost flush against my back and it was more than distracting. The closer Bucky and I got, the more muddled my thoughts became until he became the only clear one. With him pressed against me, his hands gently holding my arms and his breath fanning my shoulder, it was a miracle I could remember my own name.

“Now squeeze your abs, as long as it doesn’t hurt too much,” he said softly, inching a little closer as if to make sure I could hear him properly. Goosebumps I hoped he didn’t see erupted across my skin, I did as he said and ignored the pain it caused me. Bucky could have given me any instruction and I’d have followed, I was completely under his spell.

His hands left me and he came around to stand in front of me, “When you swing, you want to move with your whole body. You’re gonna push off with that foot,” he nudged my furthest ankle with his boot, “And turn your hips with it, but don’t over exaggerate or else you’ll lose your momentum. Your hand,” he took my improper fist into his palm and positioned my thumb below my fingers, holding onto it as he looked back up, “Should look like this.” My lips parted as I watched him mold my hand to his liking, my heart rate picking up as our eyes met. Bucky let go and held out his flesh arm to act as my target, smirking once again, “Alright, give it all you’ve got.”

I swung my fist forward and met his hand, only succeeding in making contact and nothing more. For a second I forgot that I was fighting a Super Soldier.

“Good,” he commended me nonetheless, “Again.”

I readjusted my stance and brought my fist forward again, I still couldn’t move him.

“Again.” Smack.

“Again.”

Smack.

“Again.” Smack.

“Again.” With hardly a thought, I focused my energy out of my fist as it collided with Bucky’s palm and sent his arm back in a mist of blue. I pulled my elbows back into my torso, gasping at what I’d done but not entirely unhappy with the results. Bucky looked just as surprised, turning to me with widened eyes and his pouty lips shaped in an ‘o’.

“Did you know you could do that?” he asked.

“I don’t know, the idea just came to me,” I answered, “Can I try that again?” Bucky held out his palm again and I repeated my attack, his arm jolting back upon impact once again. “I think I may have just made this a fair fight,” I said slyly, challenging him with one raised brow.

“I think you’re exaggerating a little,” he shot back, I could see the mischievous gleam in his eye that accompanied his words.

I shrugged innocently, “Guess we won’t know until we test it.”

Bucky’s wandering tongue darted out to the side of his mouth as he smiled, “I only taught you how to punch, but alright.”

He took a step closer to me, slowly and playfully putting out a hand towards me to act like he was going to attack me. I held my hand up and built a small force field to block him. Going a little faster, he raised his metal hand and I repeated the action of shielding myself. We kept going until him and I were moving across the terrace with me creating force field after force field to block Bucky’s attack. When my back hit the ledge, I shot up into the air and landed a few feet behind him.

“Is that a fair fight?” Bucky asked as he approached me.

“No, it’s not,” I sighed and lowered my head, looking back up with a smile, “It’s actually a little too easy.”

Bucky started throwing punches, me blocking each one with my palm radiating energy to lessen the impact of his hits. I was so focused that I didn’t see him lift his foot until I had landed on my back with a groan after he’d swept my leg. He pinned me, holding my arms above my head and gripping my wrists so I couldn’t attack. I squirmed a little, unable to move underneath his weight that simultaneously crushed me and sent a thrill through me.

“You were saying?” he smirked, our faces only inches apart and his lips just a little too alluring to continue ignoring. This was a different Bucky than I had become used to, he was playful and flirtatious. We were getting down to who he really was when we weren’t dealing with such serious circumstances.

Taking away the temptation to close the distance between our mouths, and eager to point out he’d made a mistake in pinning my wrists, I lifted and aimed my hands at him, firing two blasts at his shoulders. The grip he had on me was lost as his full weight landed on me, I quickly locked my legs around his and used my energy to flip us so Bucky landed on his back with me on top of him. I pinned his hands at his sides, two steady blue streams flowing from my fingers. Bucky tried to wrestle out of my hold to no avail, I took great joy in leaning over him and giving a shit-eating smile.

“You’re right,” I shook my head, “It’s not fair.”

Bucky breathily chuckled and stopped fighting, instead letting himself be defenseless underneath my body. At some point, the laughter and grins faded and the reality that I was straddling Bucky became very real. If I released my hold on his hands, I wondered what he would do. Would he scurry to lift me off of him and leave as quick as he could? Or would he dare to put his hands on my waist like he had in Madripoor, pulling me into him as close as he could? Nervously, I absorbed the energy back into my fingers and freed him, his hands laying limp where they were but his blue eyes held no intention of looking away. We rested there, trying to catch our breath and not daring to make a move that would shift either of our bodies or the moment. “Bucky, Y/n, where you at?” I heard Sam’s voice drift down the hall.

Stolen moments, that was all I could get with Bucky. I had only just discovered how I felt about him, I didn’t know how to handle it but I knew that when I did get time with him, it never lasted long enough. I unhappily levitated off of him and landed on my feet nearby, leaving him without a word to open the door and find Sam.

I looked down the hall and spotted my brother walking down the hall in search of us. “Hey,” I called, he turned around and changed his course, “Any leads?” “Sharon’s got access to a satellite, she’s gonna keep an eye on the camp,” he said, “And Zemo agreed to take us out to meet someone who’s got information on the funeral. Where’s Buc-“

Bucky appeared at that moment, his jacket back on and covering his build while carrying mine in his hand. He handed it to me, his eyes darting up to meet mine with some sort of meaning in them, “Did he say where he’s taking us?” “No,” Sam answered, “But at least he’s talking.”

The three of us headed down the hall and out to the living room where Zemo was waiting on us like a parent waiting on their children to get ready to leave. We left and entered the city once again, me trying to keep a little distance between Bucky since my cheeks were still burning. The memory of how he’d felt under me was still all too real and I needed to have a clear head for what was about to go down.

We hadn’t been walking for more than ten minutes when an unfortunately familiar voice sounded off in our vicinity. “Karli Morgenthau is too dangerous for you guys to be pulling this shit.” “Ah, how’d you find us now?” Bucky called across the street, John Walker and Lemar Hoskins hurrying down a set of steps toward us. “Come on, you really think two Avengers can walk around Latvia without drawing attention?” Lemar replied.

“No more keeping us in the dark,” Walker seethed, “You could start by telling us why you broke him out of prison.” I over animatedly shrugged my shoulders and looked between Sam and Bucky, “You told us to stay out of your way so that’s what we did. Can’t have it both ways, Walker.”

“And he broke himself out technically,” Bucky answered Walker’s original question.

“Oh,” Walker was practically spitting with rage, “This better be an unbelievable explana-“

“Hey,” Sam stepped in and placed a hand on his chest, “Take it easy before it gets weird.” Walker promptly stepped back and took a breath.

“I know where Karli is,” Zemo offered, stepping to the side along with Bucky and ready to continue on our path, before being stopped by Walker.

“Well, where?” “All we know is, it’s a memorial,” Sam answered, “So we’re gonna intercept her there.”

Zemo gently moved Walker’s hand off of him, and led the way, Bucky, Lemar and I following. “That means civilians,” Lemar said, “High risk of casualties.” “We won’t let that happen,” I replied, “And if they’re fellow funeral goers, neither will Karli.”

“All right,” Walker said, joining us along with Sam, “We’ll move in fast, take her by surprise.”

“No, I wanna talk to her alone,” Sam protested. As much as I wanted to stop my brother in the street and question the validity of his sanity, we were a united front against Walker and I couldn’t drop it. I’d wait for my turn to voice my concern.

“I’m not losing her again,” Walker pushed back. “Look, the person closest to her died, she’s vulnerable,” Sam argued, “If there was ever a time to reason with her, it’s now.” “What?” No. Wait, no! No! Stop. Hold on,” Walker jogged to get ahead of us, his sidekick following suit, “Stop, okay? I think we’re way past reasoning with her, unless you forgot that she blew up a building with people still in it.” “Sam, you walk in there cold, she could kill you,” Lemar may have had a problem with the plan, just like Walker, but he came at it from a different angle. That I could give him credit for.

“And if I go in hot and the op goes wrong, more people will die,” Sam countered confidently. “You’re gonna let him do this?” Walker addressed Bucky, “Are you gonna let your partner walk into a room with a Super Soldier alone?”

“He’s dealt with worse,” Bucky replied, “And he’s not my partner.”

“I used to counsel soldiers dealing with trauma, okay?” Sam stated, stepping around us to stand in front of Walker, “This is my wheelhouse.” “Yeah, I know. And I know those soldiers, which is why I know this is a bad idea,” Walker shot back. “Wait, John,” Lemar stopped him from going any further, “If he can talk her down, it might be worth a try.”

We stood, anticipating whether or not we’d have to fight harder or if Walker would agree to let Sam handle the situation his way. He scoffed and shifted his weight between feet before turning to Zemo, “We’ll deal with you later.” “I’m sure it will all come to an agreeable conclusion,” Zemo replied and gestured down the path, “My associate is just up ahead.”

We looked ahead to see the same little girl the Baron had been offering candy to earlier in the day. I fell in step alongside Sam and lowered my voice, “Are you sure about this?”

“Did you act like you agreed with me just to piss of Walker?” he asked, equally quiet.

“…Maybe…”

He pulled his hand out of his jacket pocket and we bumped fists, “Trust me, this is our best option.”

The five of us watched Zemo approach the child, handing her something and guiding us to follow where she was leading. She took us to an older factory, bringing us in through the back door of the boiler room. “Karli’s in there,” Zemo said.

Sam broke from our group and headed for the doorway while Walker slammed Zemo up against a furnace. “Hey,” he called to Sam, “You got ten minutes,” he handcuffed Zemo, “Then we’re doing things my way.”

With Sam gone and me not there to protect him in case things took a turn, there wasn’t anything to do but wait. Walker paced, Lemar stood and Bucky stared. I was leaned up against the brick wall that held Zemo, trying not to think of all the ways the plan could go wrong. Karli was young, quick to help but also quick to fight and the sight of Sam may be enough to trigger her into attacking before listening. But Sam wasn’t usually someone to get cocky about something he knew he couldn’t handle and I trusted his judgement. I just wish that I was trusting it in a less dangerous situation.

“Y/l/n.” I turned to Zemo, “Huh?” “In Madripoor, you said your last name was Y/n Y/l/n,” he continued in a hushed tone so nobody else would hear.

“So? What’s so interesting about my name?”

Zemo paused like he had just come to some conclusion I wasn’t going to be made privy to. “It simply sounds familiar.”

“What does that me-“ “Hey!” Walker exclaimed, staring me and the Baron down, “What’re you two talking about?” Zemo turned away from me like we’d never been speaking, the confusing conversation dissolving in the already tense air. “Nothing,” I lied, pushing off the brick wall and brushing past Walker, “That concerns you at least.”

I landed at Bucky’s side, he nodded his head towards Zemo and looked back to me. “What was that about?” “I’m not sure,” I answered, there was something unsettling about how Zemo’s gaze rested on me, “But I don’t think it was nothing.” We waited in another thirty seconds of silence before an antsy Walker spoke up again, “No, no, no, no, no, this is a bad idea.” “It hasn’t been ten minutes John,” Bucky said, “Just sit tight.”

“Don’t do that,” Walker looked over his shoulder at us angrily, “Don’t patronize me.”

“Then don’t start whining because you’re getting fidgety,” I replied, annoyed with his lack of patience, “Sam knows what he’s doing and if you let him do it, this could all go a lot smoother than Munich.”

He walked away, staring at the wall in deep thought before coming towards us. “I’m goin’ in,” he stated, punctuating his words with a punch to the shield.

Bucky stepped forward to block his path, I quickly stuck a hand in between their two bodies and created a force field to further state our point. My apprehension about leaving Sam to handle himself had lessened when he’d assured me he had it under control but I wasn’t sure if there was anything that would get Walker to back off.

“This is all really easy for you, isn’t it?” Walker grumbled, staring Bucky down, “All that serum runnin’ through your veins. And you,” he skimmed his hand over the unpierceable shield I’d made, “With that X gene of yours. Your brother,” he pointed at Bucky, “And your partner need backup in there. Do you really want his blood on your hands?” The images that Sharon had planted in my head were filled in by Walker, it suddenly became all too easy to picture Sam’s lifeless body on the ground. Just like the one I’d left in the ship yard. No, Walker was not in my head, I wouldn’t allow it. The man who had threatened me with the accords, who waved the name of Captain America around like a free ticket to do whatever he wanted. He could manipulate whoever he wanted, except for me. “You’re not getting past us, Walker,” I firmly stated, bringing his widened eyes to me, “Sam’s got this.” There weren’t many people that stood up to Captain America without a second thought, and the irritated expression on his face reflected that. “So that’s how it’s going now? You’re giving the orders?” “If it means giving Sam a better chance of ending this, then yes,” I countered, digging my heels further into the ground.

He looked me over, debating his options, “Fine.” After observing him for a few cautious seconds, I dropped the force field and stepped to the side of Bucky. No sooner than when my hand fell to my side did Walker shove past Bucky and storm up the stairs, the two of us quickly rushing to draw him back. “Walker!” Bucky shouted.

I aimed my hands out to pull him back in, the blue energy barely leaving my fingertips when Lemar came up behind me and pulled my hands down to my sides. I tried to wrestle out of his grip but he didn’t let me go until Walker had safely gotten up the stairs to a point where I couldn’t see him. “Are you serious?!” I cried as Lemar shot ahead of me up the stairs leaving me to follow pathetically. “Captain’s orders,” he replied over his shoulder as we hurried to catch up to the heated, impatient joke of a Captain.

“Karli Morganthau, you’re under arrest,” I heard Walker announce, spotting Bucky taking the stairs two at a time behind him.

As I entered the room, my hopeless eyes met Sam’s surprised set. Karli was just as shocked, the redhead asking Sam if it had been the plan all along to bring us in. Lemar pushed in front of me and Bucky, acting as a barrier to prevent us from interfering any more than we had. Bucky attempted to shove his arm away just as Karli landed a punch to the shield, sending Walker and Sam flying back into a table. I used my energy to shove Lemar back, freeing Bucky and I to jump into the fight. Bucky bolted after Karli who was making a run for it while I helped Sam to his feet. “We said ten minutes!” Sam exclaimed, glaring at Walker’s retreating form.

“I tried,” I said as we made for another staircase to try and catch Karli on the other side of the building. We went through a series of various halls, there was no way to make heads or tails of which way was right. Sam tugged me and led me up another set of stairs with no luck in finding her. “Shit,” I mumbled. On the opposite side of the landing was Bucky, looking just as confused as us. “I lost her,” he said defeatedly. “This place is a maze,” Sam panted.

I took a look at our surroundings, spotting a window and quickly forming an idea. “She could be out of the building by now. Bucky,” I ran to the nearest window, “Help me out.”

Catching on quick, he raised his metal arm and landed a whopping punch, shattering the glass and leaving a gaping hole. I took a few steps back and took a running start, ignoring the sounds of Sam’s protests and diving out the window. I threw my hands out to my sides and expelled energy, ceasing my fall and allowing me to shoot up higher in the air. I landed on the building’s roof, taking a look at the city below me and trying to spot Karli’s mop of red hair. I stayed atop the ledge searching until I heard gunshots from inside the building, dropping and flying back in through the broken window immediately. My blood ran cold with fear, Sam and Bucky weren’t where I had left them. I rushed down the closest hall, hearing a commotion from a room somewhere in the building and praying desperately that they weren’t in the middle of it. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever been so relieved to see the two of them as when I’d spotted them after turning a corner. Upon hearing my boots slapping against the ground, Bucky and Sam turned, both their faces showcasing the same relief. “Thank God,” Sam breathed, waiting for me to catch up with them before tearing off again.

We ran through the building until we found the one hall we hadn’t been down yet, we entered to find quite the scene. Walker was standing over an unconscious Zemo, vials of the super serum smashed on the floor and no sign of Karli.

“What did we miss?” Sam asked, still a little breathless from our chase.

I wasn’t a naturally angry person, but the irateness I felt with John Walker was enough to make my face warm with rage. He had proved that arrogance and impatience were his main modes of operation. He had no problem giving the orders but following someone else’s lead was nearly unbearable for him. His eagerness to jump headfirst into battle may have served him well in aspects of his career, but in this case it had ruined everything.

“You said ten minutes,” I gritted out, staring down Walker from our position on the stairs. His eyes didn’t carry an ounce of remorse for what he had done. Without another word, I turned on my heels and stormed out of the room without waiting for Sam and Bucky. We’d come so far only to lose to a completely preventable situation. I’d never worked with Steve professionally, but I knew that he would have never have sabotaged a mission because of his ego. Just one more reason why John Walker could never truly be Captain America.

----

A/N: I find myself having to reel myself in when writing Walker or else I’ll let my hatred of him show through a little too much lol. Let me know what you thought or if you’d like to be tagged :)

Safe Haven taglist: @tanyaherondale @wanniiieeee @asoftie4bucky @edencherries @i-reblog-fics-i-like @ttalisa @gcfty @withyoutilltheendofthismess @rinaispunk @weirdowithnobeardo @felicityofbakerstreet @godlypotterwhodiaries @eternalharry @voguesir @mizz-kraziii @okayline @smellmymisunderstoodfluff @wanderin-stories @nicklet94 @intricate-melody @aesthethickks @stumbleonmywords @simplybarnes @21bruhs @lostinwonderland314 @superbookishhufflepuff @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @zozebo @fandomxreaders @kittengirl998 @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @i-know-i-can @x-judyjude-x @thebi-valkyrieofvalhalla @buckverse

#bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x platonic!reader #marvel imagine

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ecoamerica · 15 days

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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fireinmoonshot · 3 years

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SPIDER | BUCKY BARNES x READER | PART FOUR

CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER.

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE Summary: Bucky doesn’t know what to make of you when he meets you. You’re friends with Sharon, and you seem pretty easy to read on the surface. But the more time he spends with you, the more he seems to uncover, and the more he becomes tangled in the web you unwittingly weave. Pairing: female!Reader x Bucky Barnes Fandom: Marvel / The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Word Count: 2,769 Warnings: SPOILERS FOR THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER. A/N: Thank you all for the lovely response yet again! I really appreciate it. We're getting into Episode 4 now, so if you've not seen it yet make sure you don't read this chapter or you'll spoil yourself! Please let me know your thoughts, though. I really liked how this chapter turned out and I tried to make it so it didn't read like I was just writing the episode out word for word so I hope it's okay!

Zemo’s apartment was, at least, comfortable. As soon as you’d arrived Sam had settled in and gotten himself a drink and Zemo had excused himself to shower. You’d gone for a wander around the place, trying to get your bearings. It’d been a while since you’d been out of Madripoor and it felt a little like the ground had just been ripped up from underneath your feet. It was undoubtedly going to take some getting used to. Then, with what Bucky had said in the street. You were overthinking and you knew it, but he’d been right. You hated that he’d been right.

A change of clothes and freshening up in one of the bathrooms the place had done at least some of the job in helping you feel settled in, and by the time you re-enter the living room Bucky’s back, the Dora Milaje is after Zemo and the news that Karli bombed a GRC supply depot has broken.

You settle on one of the seats beside Sam with a glass of water and a heavy heart. Zemo is talking about how he personally believes Karli is a supremacist, but you can’t get your mind off of how three people had died and eleven more had been injured at the GRC supply depot bombing. You have a feeling that more people are going to end up dead if you don’t act soon, and fast.

“She will not stop,” Zemo says. “She will escalate until you kill her.”

You zone back into the conversation, taking a long sip of your drink.

“Or she kills you.”

“How unbelievably morbid of you,” you mutter.

Bucky glances at you and Sam even huffs out what you think could be a laugh.

“Maybe you’re wrong, Zemo. The serum never corrupted Steve,” Bucky says.

“Touché. But there has never been another Steve Rogers, has there?”

You can’t disagree with him. These people – Karli, her super soldiers. You know that they’re not trying to be Steve Rogers. They’re anything but. But you also know that John Walker, where-ever he is, whoever he is, isn’t qualified for the job either.

Bucky sighs and makes to walk away from the three of you and head toward the couch, looking for a well deserved seat. “Well, maybe we should give him to the Wakandans right now.”

“And you’ll give up your tour guide?” Zemo replies, staring into a cabinet and not even bothering to give Bucky a glance.

“Yes.” Bucky doesn’t hesitate.

Sam rolls his eyes, clearly irritated by the both of them. He says something, you vaguely hear something about his ‘TT’, though you don’t listen to the words. Instead, you stare into your drink, swirling the water around in the cup.

It’s not the first time you wonder if you’ve made a mistake my coming along with Sam, Bucky and Zemo. It��s not like Sharon gave you a choice, but you know that you could have insisted that you not come along. But now you’re wondering even more as you sit in Zemo’s living room, listening to the three men concoct a plan without even needing to consult you. Three men – a criminal, one that doesn’t trust you and one that you just don’t understand at all. You feel out of place among them.

You push yourself up and out of your chair, leaving your water behind on the table, and head towards the hallway that’ll lead you to the room Zemo told you that you could use. Bucky watches as you go, wondering if he should call out and ask you where you’re going, though he hesitates for too long and by that time, you’re out of sight. Sam watches him with furrowed eyebrows.

“What was that?”

“What was what?” Bucky looks at him.

“You, staring at her like that. Are you in cahoots or something? I saw you talking on the street. Hell, you stopped to talk to her. What’s that about?”

Bucky scoffs. “In cahoots? Are you being serious right now?”

“Deadly.”

“Yeah, you know what else is deadly?”

“What?”

“Karli if we don’t hurry up and get some information on Donya Madani.” Bucky stands up and heads towards the bathroom. “As soon as I’m done, we’re heading out.”

Sam shakes his head and mutters “Who made you boss?” under his breath.

Bucky hears him. “I did!”

***

You’re not quite sure what you expect to find, but it’s certainly more than you’re leaving with. Bucky is standing and staring at Zemo and a group of children when you and Sam rejoin him. You’d gone upstairs with him, having decided on the journey there to at least try with him, and if he still refused to trust you, you’d give up. Or perhaps you wouldn’t. You hadn’t quite decided yet.

Bucky looks at you as you stand beside him, hands tucked firmly into the pockets of your jacket to shield them from the cool breeze. You hadn’t said much to him since he’d joined you at Zemo’s apartment after your talk on the street, and honestly he didn’t expect you to. He didn’t even really know what to say to you, so he’d figured he’d not even bother breaching the topic. If you wanted to talk about it, you would.

You stare ahead at Zemo, eyes narrowed. He’d been a little anxious about you going upstairs with Sam alone, even though he knew deep down that Sam wasn’t going to do anything, especially to Sharon’s friend.

“Someone needs to teach those children not to talk to strangers,” you mutter.

Sam snorts.

“No, seriously. If I was their age and someone that looked and acted like Zemo came up and started talking to me like that, I’d probably want to punch him and run.” You pause and then spot the Turkish delight. “On second thoughts…” You make to walk towards him, suddenly feeling rather protective over the children unknowingly speaking to a criminal like Zemo.

Before you can even make it two steps, a hand closes around your wrist and pulls you to a stop. You look back, irritated, to find Bucky shaking his head at you.

“Don’t. He’s not going to hurt them. They’re giving him information.”

“They’re children and he’s a criminal.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says, tugging you back to his side and letting go of your wrist once you’re there. “And I’ll punch him in the face if I have to.”

Sam chuckles. “Don’t tempt him, or me, for that matter.”

“Now you’ve just made me want to watch him get punched in the face.”

Bucky and Sam share a look.

“I will if you will,” Sam shrugs.

Zemo finishes speaking to the children and walks back towards the three of you. “Cute kids,” he says, smiling a smile that makes your skin crawl. He walks straight past you.

“Yeah, I hate that man,” you mutter.

***

The journey back to Zemo’s apartment is quiet and uncomfortable. You feel worried for the children and are contemplating various different ways you could physically injure and maim Zemo. Whatever Sam and Bucky are thinking, you don’t know or particularly care.

What you do know is that you didn’t find what you came for

You close the door of the apartment behind you.

“Well, I got nothing,” Bucky says, heading straight to the couch. “No one’s talking about Donya.”

“Yeah, it’s because Karli is the only one fighting for them,” Sam replies, settling down on the couch opposite Bucky. “And she’s not wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

You find a spot on the couch by Bucky and kick off your shoes so you can put your feet up. All of the travelling around was certainly taking its toll and honestly, you were beyond exhausted. If you had the time to sleep for more than a few broken hours, you’d take it. You rest your head on your arm, laying your head down on the top of the couch, and look between Sam and Bucky.

Sam sighs and elaborates. “For five years, people have been welcomed into countries that have kept them out using barbwire. There were houses and jobs. Folks were happy to have people around to help them rebuild. It wasn’t just one community coming together, it was the entire world coming together. And then, boom. Just like that, it goes right back to the way it used to be. To them, at least Karli’s doing something.”

“You really think her ends justify her means?” Bucky says. “Then, she’s no different than him,” he motions to Zemo, “or anybody else we’ve fought.”

“She’s different. She’s not motivated by the same things.”

You find the courage to speak. “Just because she’s not motivated by the same things as Zemo or the people you’ve fought, it doesn’t mean she’s not unlike them,” you sit up a little straighter as they look at you. “I haven’t fought people like you have, but I’ve fought. I’ve seen what regular people can do with a following. Karli is different, but she’s the same, too. She’s making change, but at what cost?”

Bucky looks at you, eyes narrowed. “I like you,” he says. “You get me.”

Sam rolls his eyes and looks like he’s about to reply when Zemo comes over holding a tray with tea and several tea cups. It almost makes you laugh, the sight of him with the smallest, daintiest pieces of China, but you hold it back, knowing that all eyes in the room would fall on you if you did laugh.

“That little girl. What’d she tell you?” Bucky’s amusement over you is long gone.

Zemo looks at the three of you for several moments before finally giving up the information he’d been holding hostage. “The funeral is this afternoon.”

Beside you, Bucky huffs in annoyance. “You know the Dora’s coming for you at any minute? In fact, they’re probably lurking outside right now. Keep talking.”

“Leaving you to turn on me once we get to Karli. Hmm. I prefer to keep my leverage.”

You watch as Bucky stands up from the couch and walks towards him. Something tells you that he’s not just standing up to talk, but before you can so much as think of anything else, Bucky grabs a tea cup and throws it against the wall behind Zemo. It shatters with a surprisingly loud crack.

“You wanna see what someone can do with leverage?”

Both you and Sam are on your feet in seconds, stepping in-between them. You press a hand against Bucky’s shoulder and try to move him away from Zemo, but it does nothing. He doesn’t move and instead keeps shooting daggers at Zemo over your shoulder.

“Take it easy. Don’t engage him. He’s just gonna extort you and do that stupid head tilt thing,” Sam says, warning Bucky off. “Let me make a call.” He leaves the room, but not before tapping on Bucky’s other shoulder in an attempt to snap him out of it.

Zemo gets on your nerves by asking “You want some cherry blossom tea?”

“No, you go ahead.” Bucky is seething.

You push on his shoulder again and finally he steps back.

“What, you think we can afford to start fighting amongst each other now?” You ask, directing Bucky out of the living room and down the hall, figuring it’s probably for the best if he and Zemo aren’t in the same room right now. Zemo can enjoy his cherry blossom tea all on his own.

Bucky lets out a long, shaky breath. “Told you I wanted to punch him.”

“When I said I wanted to see it, I didn’t mean today.”

You tug him out of the hall and into your room, closing the door behind you. It’s the first time the two of you have been alone since the street where he’d called you out for contradicting yourself all the time. Strangely, he’s the person out of the three of them that you’re the most comfortable around, yet you also know he’s definitely the one that’s the most rash in his decision making. Hence the broken cup.

Bucky sits down on the edge of the bed and runs his hands over his hair.

“I know that helping him get out was for the best considering everything with Karli and the Flag Smashers, but I’m really regretting my decision right about now,” he admits, eyes focused firmly on the floor.

You walk over and settle down beside him on the bed.

“He has his uses, but just because he’s useful doesn’t mean he’s any less of an ass.”

He laughs briefly and the sound makes you smile.

“We all have regrets, okay?” You continue. “I have plenty of them, you have them, Sam has them, I bet even Zemo has some. Buried deep down. I try not to focus on mine. Maybe you should try the same with the Zemo thing.”

Bucky lifts his head and looks at you. “Yeah, it’s that easy, is it?”

For some reason, you want him to trust you even more now. Having felt disconnected from them all day, but also having felt the thrill when one of them laughs at your joke, or even Bucky just telling you that he likes you… the part of you that wants trust wins out, so you decide to tell Bucky one of your regrets.

“I regret leaving Madripoor and Sharon,” you admit. “She’s the only home I’ve known for the longest time. Madripoor – however messed up it is there – felt like some kind of home because of her. It’s the first time we’ve been apart since the blip, I suppose. Part of me wishes I was still there with her. But the other part of me focuses on the fact that she thinks I’m of more use here, with you guys. So I’m trying to be of use to you guys. I’m trying not to shut myself off. I’m pushing down my regret in favour of trying to be helpful.”

“And how’s that going?”

“Well, I haven’t contradicted myself yet, have I?”

Bucky smiles properly for the first time since you’ve met him.

“And listen, if it makes you feel any better, you entirely have my permission to punch Zemo before we finish all of this. I don’t know Sam well, but I have a feeling he’d be on board, too.”

He chuckles and leans back until he’s laying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

“I meant what I said in there before,” he points in the direction of the living room. “That I like you. That you get me. I don’t know how, but you do.” He looks up at you, sitting up and watching him. “You’re making it annoyingly easy for me to trust you right now, you know that? I feel like I shouldn’t trust you because of the contradictions you make about yourself. But now you’re sitting here, being open and honest with me. Making sure I don’t punch people. And now I feel like I could trust you.”

You’re smiling. “Maybe that was all part of my grand plan.”

Bucky furrows his eyebrows. “Don’t do that.”

“I’m joking. It was a joke,” you huff out a laugh. “Learn to take a joke, James.”

He pushes himself up, sitting straight again. “James?”

“That’s your name, is it not? Or do you not like being called James?”

“No, it’s… it’s fine.” He blinks. Lets your words settle with him for a moment. “Bucky, James. I don’t care what you call me. Unless it’s offensive.”

“Well, you’re safe there,” you laugh. “I’m not mad at you, by the way. About what you said earlier. You were right. I do contradict myself, and I do it to protect myself.”

Bucky frowns. “You don’t have to protect yourself from me.”

“Then I’ll try not to,” you say honestly. “Now, have you cooled off enough to go back and see who Sam was calling, or do you wanna stay here for a few more minutes?”

Bucky thinks over your question for a few moments, thinking ever so briefly about staying here with you for a little bit longer simply because he thinks he likes being around you, before nodding. “I think I’m good.”

You nod and stand up, intending to head to the door, but Bucky reaches out a hand to stop you. He means to grab your wrist, but unintentionally ends up grabbing your hand. You whirl, eyes a little wider than you realise, and look at him.

He doesn’t let go.

“Thank you,” he says. “For getting me out of there. For calming me down.”

You smile. “Anytime, Bucky.”

***

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alovesthis · 3 years

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why do i love you?

BUCKY BARNES ONESHOT (part 1/4) 18+ ONLY PLEASE.

why do i love you?

Summary: They were both corrupted, controlled, used and tortured. For years, they knew each other; the good and the bad. Even when they got better, there was still so much for them to deal with: tension, fear and they weren’t sure if they were good for each other.

Word count: 1,859

Based on song: i hate everything about you, three days grace

They were both corrupted, controlled, used and tortured. For years, they knew each other; the good and the bad. Even when they got better, there was still so much for them to deal with: tension, fear and they weren’t sure if they were good for each other. The things they made her do to him and vice versa, she's never experienced. He’s never experienced it either. They both thought that maybe despite the hurt they’ve caused each other, it was better to stick together after escaping them. No more orders, no more killing.

She didn’t want her mind or body to be used. He didn’t either. Free: that’s all they wanted to be. Free from the binds they had on her.

It was wrong to blame each other for the hurt, physically and mentally, that she had no control over. But still, most nights she couldn’t look at him, or be near him. And other nights, he couldn’t either. They were angry at themselves, they felt like they didn’t deserve to be forgiven by the other. She wanted nothing more to break away from everything, all the pain that she caused as a super solider and all the pain she endured. It surprised her that she wasn’t completely broken yet. Perhaps it was Bucky that kept her fighting for her own life. Bucky was the same way. He wanted nothing more to make amends, to find a friend in her. He didn’t want to hurt anymore, and he thought maybe the reason why he’s still here but lingering behind the shadows, was because of her.

He couldn’t let anyone find him, or her. They were scared that no one would forgive them, accept them or even help them get better. So they turned to each other. They let their feelings out on each other, unloaded every emotion they felt. Not violently, but they let their hands grab onto each other harshly as rustle around in the grey sheets in a rundown, small apartment somewhere in Europe. If this wasn’t their lives, they’d be sightseeing and letting contentment of being underneath the European clouds and sun take over. But this wasn’t that, it could never be that.

“I hate myself.” She moaned on top of him, her hands slamming down on his chest. “I hate you, even though I don’t want to.”

“I know.” Bucky said understandingly. He doesn’t need her to say these things because he knows: he felt the same way.

He lay beneath her, letting her ride out her anger and frustrations. Their moans intertwined with each others as her hands gripped profusely at his hard chest, slowly making their way to his neck. Her head tilted back, hair falling off her shoulders as she continued to roll her hips hard but teasingly slow. She didn’t want to tease, but it was feeling way too good to stop or pick up the pace. His fingers dug into her hips, urging her to keep going. They cursed at each other in hatred, but with so much passion like it was also out of love. Which it was. It was everything in between hate and love, which made it so much harder to go back to their own beds when they finished. But they never thought about the end of the night. They always kept their minds on how they made each other feel in that moment.

“We can’t…” Bucky struggled with his words. “We can’t keep doing this.”

“Fuck - I know.” She closed her eyes as she started to thrust her hips down onto him. “But, but I love the way...fuck, Bucky.”

“I know. Come on, just like that.”

Her words kept dissolving into moans, chanting his name as she finally picked up her pace. He started to meet her movements. He thrusted up into her, his rough hand reaching to grab onto one of her breasts rolling it and kneading. Immediately, her hand flew down to his metal arm to drag his hand to her throat. But he refused. No matter how strong she was to easily pull it up to her throat, he resisted it and kept his hand digging into the side of your thigh.

“Please.”

He said her name, “no...I won’t-”

She bit her lip and began to slow her movements. Bucky growled in anger, not wanting her to stop or slow down. She hunched over enough to bring her face down to his. Their lips were inches apart, their breathing picking up despite the stillness when she comes to a stop. They stared into each others eyes, searching for something. All of their feelings were confusing and it was hard to work through every thing that made them hate each other and get to a better place. Some days and some nights, the both of them thought maybe this was the closest they got to feeling love. To feeling just okay. But most of the time… it was all too much.

But right now, she wanted him forever. He wanted her too, and for them to never let go. To succumb to the idea that they do deserve this, that they can get over everything they’ve been through.

Her mouth opened, letting her tongue graze his lips asking for permission. It was never like this. They were always so rough with each other, never taking their time and just going at it for hours. But tonight, they let each other explore. His mouth opened, letting her tongue dive right inside swirling around with his and slowly kissing. There was so much heat between each other, whether that was from being so close or not, they loved it. Her hand began to squeeze his throat, cutting off some his airway. Their eyes were closed but she couldn’t resist seeing how vulnerable he looked underneath her. As she kept moving on top of him, she pulled away to ride him faster.

Bucky’s breathing began to pick up much more. He couldn’t handle how she felt wrapped around him. It felt so different than all the other times. Probably because they weren’t rushing it, they weren’t being tough or stoic. They were really showing each other how they love.

Still, their super strength shone through. It didn’t matter if this was different than the other times they would fuck. She urged him with her words and the way she swiveled her hips. She urged him to grab onto her neck too, wanting to feel her head rush and wanting to reach the end with him.

Bucky gave in. He couldn’t resist the way she yearned for him anymore. He gave in because he wanted to please her. He wanted to make her feel the way she made him feel: loved. The bed beneath them began to crack, wood chipping just ready to give in and break. They both heard it with their hearing, and because it’s already happened a few times before. They didn't care for the bed to break, they couldn’t stop moving their hips to meet each others. It all felt too good. The way she opened for him and pulsed around him. The way he fit so good inside her. The cold metal fingers wrapped around her throat and she exhaled an uneven breath and stopped her movements. For a second, he thought he was hurting her. But it wasn’t until she opened her eyes, stared down into his. Her mouth went agape and began to squeeze him; his throat and his dick. There was sparks inside you that were triggered by a harsher squeeze from Bucky’s hand.

“Oh, shit.” He growled through his groans of pleasure. His hips stutter as he feels you slow down, reaching your peak. "I'm going to-"

“Give it to me, Buck.” She whispered, going back to grinding down on him. She swore she felt herself beginning to grow with another orgasm, but for now she wanted to focus on getting Bucky to his end. They both wanted to reach it together, but sometimes it doesn’t happen like that. His hand fell from her throat and went back to her thighs to help her move on him harsher and faster.

“Doll…”

Her heart thumped against her chest. He’s never said that before, and it makes you melt.

“I’m here.” You breath, your hips rocking back and forth. Even though she could knock someone out, or throw someone with just one arm because of serum strength, she thought it would help him reach his spark; using her other hand to have both of them wrapped around his neck. He felt the pressure of her strength and it made his eyes widen. Bending down, she bit his lip before kissing him with tongue. He keeps his metal arm on her thigh, while his other runs up to her jaw. He pulled her closer to him and she gave him a squeeze. And just like that, he came to his release.

She collapsed on the bed laying beside his metal arm, shivering from the downfall and the coldness of the silver. It stood quiet for the next few minutes. Their breathing had slowed down and there eyes stayed on the crinkly ceiling above them.

“I don’t want this to be so hard.” She whispered. “I want to get better, I want you to get better.”

“It’s not our fault.” She heard him mutter, which is surprising because usually he would be wallowing in self pity, just like she would. “No matter what they did, what we did, or how we feel…”

“Bucky?”

He hummed. He doesn’t continue his thoughts, instead he sat up on the edge of the bed and hovered over his legs. She stared at his naked back, waiting for him to answer. Instead he kept quiet.

“Do you love me?”

“I think so.” He doesn’t look at her. “Do you love me?”

“I think so.” She repeated his words.

“Why do we...after everything that’s happened?”

Her hand falls on his shoulder, slowly grazing the metal of his arm as she reaches for his hand. This time, he doesn’t flinch or move away. Instead, he lets the woman he used to hate, used to think they could never be friends, hold his hand. She didn’t think she had the guts to reach out for him, considering the way she hated him. But now, it’s beginning to look like life for them might change. For the better. Sure, it’ll take sometime to learn how to forgive and love. But it could happen.

Her chin rested on his shoulder where her hand once was. She watched his head turn, his long black hair getting in the way of his stubble, beautiful face. She reached over with her other hand and tucked it behind his ear.

“I’m starting to think the reason why we love each other is because we’re ready to move on. We’re ready to accept change. Cause Bucky….I’m done with all of that.”

“It might take me time,” he turned away again, nodding his head. “If you-”

“I’ll be right by your side, like always.”

“You promise?”

“I will, if you will.”

“Yeah, I promise.”

MY AO3 ACCOUNT:

https://archiveofourown.org/users/womanwhowritesformany

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emwritesstuff · 3 years

Text

as the world caves in | ch. 5 | bucky barnes x reader

synopsis: You are a ghost story. A former Air Force pilot who had her plane shot down by Germany in 1945, but here you were in 2023, alive and frozen in your 25-year-old body.

You haven’t seen Bucky since the 1940’s, before his fall, before you went on a suicide mission only to come back alive. You aren’t sure reliving those memories – and being a living memory of everything the man has lost – is the best for him.

But you and Bucky won’t be apart for long.

This will loosely follow the plot of TFATWS - so spoilers ahead, specially regarding episode four. Thread carefully!

masterlist | AO3

notes: I was going to make it only one chapter with the plot of episode four but it ended up HUGE, so I'm splitting this one in two. I’m posting the next one very very soon (probably tomorrow), just need to finish reviewing it sksksk

(warnings: mentions of death, gunshots, blood) (word count: 4K)

five: funeral

Ayo considered you for a moment, then turned to Bucky. “Eight hours. Do not forget.”

You exhaled slowly after she was gone, allowing yourself to return to a more relaxed state.

“You know Ayo?” Bucky said, after he made sure the door was well closed.

Sam mused from behind you.

“And you speak Xhosa!”

“When King T’Challa opened Wakanda to the world, I ended up leading the relations between our countries from our side. Learning the language was the least I could do.” You shrugged, smiling fondly when you remember the awkward phase where you still mispronounced everything, and how astoundingly lenient the King had been during it.

“Accomplished. It was sweet of you to defend me, at least.”

You raised an eyebrow at the glass of water you’re drinking, grateful that Zemo didn’t speak the language. If only he knew.

Well, you had a feeling he would. Eight hours. T-minus-fifteen.

“Hey, you shut it. No one is defending you. You killed Nagel.” Sam bit at Zemo, and you put down your water and took your phone.

It had been blowing up since the signal returned after your flight to Latvia, every single person who ever had your contact was looking for you. Understandably. It was your first “vacation” in a long time.

You swiped the notifications away, and your eyes met Bucky’s while Sam and Zemo squabbled.

“You shouldn’t be good at that. It’s not fair.”

“It’s just a phone, Buck.” You smirk up at him, and a corner of his lip tugs upwards in response. “And I’ve been around long enough to know how to deal with the ever-changing technology.”

“Does that mean you’re the older one now? I’ve been frozen.”

“Do I get older privilege?” You asked, not looking up from the screen. The news feed caught your attention, and you were quick to scroll past the one talking about The Winter Soldier’s appearance in Madripoor.

“…No.” Bucky pushed his bottom lip forward, shaking his head. You bit your lip to refrain yourself from telling him just how much of a child he was, but couldn’t hide your grin.

The next headline made the grin fall out of your mouth, it being replaced by a frown. You slid the phone to Bucky, you two sharing a concerned look as soon as he read it too.

“Sam. Karli bombed a GRC supply depot.”

You rubbed your temples and started pacing as Bucky explained to the other two men the situation. Three dead. Eleven wounded. Your heart wrenched, and you pressed a fist to your chest when you imagine how dire the things have to be for that to had become the latest desperate measure.

Wars have civilian casualties. People are bound to be caught in the crossfire. You knew this. You’d seen it. This was a deliberate attack, and it was a different time and conjecture, but you felt almost the same as you did when you walked through the rubble made of Europe, 80 years ago.

Seeds for a new war. You’d hoped you wouldn’t get to see it sprout again.

You finally looked up as Zemo questioned the three of you about having the will to complete the mission.

“She’s just a kid.”

You moved to rest a hand on Sam’s shoulder, but in the end, you might have been more looking to ground yourself than anything. He nodded at you either way, and you could see Bucky’s eyes on you from your peripheral.

“You’re seeing something in her that isn’t there. You’re clouded by it. She’s a supremacist. The very concept of Super Soldier will always trouble people.” Zemo spoke with certainty, as if he was a professor and the three of you his pupils.

“I doubt she sees things that way.” You raised your finger as soon as he opened his mouth to retort. “Not everyone has the chance to be studying politics and understand how revolutionary movements can become extremism. Most people are just fighting to get to see another day.”

You wondered if Baron Helmut Zemo would ever understand that, the struggle. The uncertainty that wakes up with you and goes to sleep when you do, only to pose itself the next morning.

“It’s that warped aspiration that led to Nazis, to Ultron, to the Avengers.” His next line seemed to be enough of an answer. You let your hand slide off Sam’s shoulder, realizing you had it in a tight grip the whole time, and resumed your pacing.

You doubted Karli Morgenthau had much chance to reflect on the long-term consequences of her mobilization. She was helping people, people who needed things right away; she was providing immediate relief. The world only had given violence in return.

“She will not stop. She will escalate until you kill her. Or she kills you.”

“Maybe you’re wrong, Zemo. The Serum never corrupted Steve.” Bucky retorted, but that obviously wasn’t enough to shake Zemo’s convictions.

The ache in our chest grew just a tad stronger, and you sank on the large sectional couch; Bucky seemed to have sensed your wariness, because soon enough he was bumping knees with you on the empty seat to your left. He radiated irritation, squared shoulders and head thrown back.

You laced your arm with his, nodding along with Sam as he talked about his aunt, understanding his plan when he reasoned that they might be doing a funeral ceremony for Donya. Bucky seemed to have loosened it up a little, and you agreed with him. It was worth a shot.

“You doin’ okay?” Bucky whispered, adjusting his arm so yours could have more room.

You raised your eyes at Zemo, stopping for a few seconds to observe the golden embroidery of the couch behind Bucky’s head before looking at him.

You squeezed his bicep. You mustered a small, strained smile.

Bucky’s eyes did not leave yours the entire time, two pools of blue and warmth and comfort that made you ache with how much you’d missed them all of these years.

“Jus’ fine.”

Bucky nodded.

“Liar.”

You flicked his ear with your free hand, which made him grunt. You giggled as Bucky shook his head and muttered something about you being such a child, and you could feel your nervousness easing up.

“Don’t be so grumpy, old man.”

---

You parted ways as Sam, Bucky and Zemo went to the displacement camp, and you went to the GRC office in Riga in search of information. You hadn’t been seen with them yet, so you took the chance of still being considered just a diplomat on a trip, seeking to maybe be of assistance in trying times.

It hadn’t been the most productive of mornings. The people at the office knew as little as you did of Donya Madani, or any of the other displaced people, which was appalling at the least. All they had was some half-assed records of when the camp had been formed, and that was months ago. Who knew how many people had joined by then. No wonder the Flag Smashers were at large, with more people joining and supporting the cause every day.

John Walker and Lemar Hoskins walked through the building’s doors, just as you were ready to leave. Hoskins recognized you immediately, whispering something to the new Captain America before both men approached you.

You shook their hands graciously, but your eyes remained on the door, you not wanting to waste precious time with the two. Especially Walker, who seemed to wear the shield on his back like it was a badge of honor, or even a safe-conduct to back up his moves.

It didn’t sit right with you, and not just because the man who wielded the shield before him was unreplaceable to you, and the man who stood before you seemed to have been handpicked to step inside Steve’s shoes, same size and all. His height, his built, his set jaw, the blue eyes, the blonde hair; as far as looks went, the perfect impersonator. It was the way he carried himself that set you off though, proud of himself and his own privilege. And you had barely any interaction with him aside from watching him perform in front of cameras, and, well, now.

“I’m very sorry gentlemen – but I should get going. This detour of my vacation is already on borrowed time.”

Hoskins nodded solemnly, but Walker took another step towards you. “I know about your previous work with Steve, it would be nice to have you on your side too.”

“Like I said, I’m off duty. Try not to make a mess out of it.” The lie slips off your lips easily, and you offer them an apologetic smile before turning to leave.

“There’s some Avengers on the hunt for the Flag Smashers too.”

Hoskins’ voice stopped you in your tracks, and you studied the two, wondering just how much they actually knew.

“Just think about it, okay? If you’re gonna help someone, make sure you’re helping the right people.”

That’s exactly what you were doing, but you weren’t about to tell him that.

“Hoskins. Cap. Have a nice day.” You nodded at them, not looking behind you as you take off to the cobblestone streets.

---

Sam and Bucky turned to watch you when arrived back at Zemo’s condo, closing the door gently behind you.

“Nothing.” You answered before they could ask, shaking your head slightly. From the defeated way they were sank on that couch, you assumed they were met with dead ends as well. “And Walker’s here, so expect things to get complicated.”

“You met with Walker?” Bucky asked, his jaw tensing up as he looked up at you.

“More like he met me. Offered me a job.” You chuckled humorlessly at the irony of it. Apparently you were now known for getting Steve out of trouble, and not for getting into it with him. How the tables turn. “He’s lacking intel as much as we are though.”

You threw your coat on the coffee table, and watched it slip down to the floor unimpressed. Bucky dipped to pick it up, draping it over the back of the couch while shaking his head and grumbling under his breath. Sam giggled, earning himself a glare.

Zemo approached your group with a tray of steaming tea. Bucky focused his glare on him.

“That little girl. What’d she tell you?” Bucky narrowed his eyes, a taunting tone to his voice.

Zemo paused, and his eyes jumped from Bucky, to Sam, to you, and the ground. The mood is restless, charged with tension, ready to spark like an open wire at the edge of water.

The Sokovian visibly relaxes his posture when he bends down to serve himself tea. “The funeral is this afternoon.”

It wasn’t not surprising to you that he was withholding information, though it was bold. His confidence was baffling, if anything.

“You’re on thin ice, Zemo.” You narrow your eyes at him, and he offers you a small, lofty smile.

Bucky looked at you and nodded before reminding Zemo of the Dora Milaje and demanding he kept talking.

“Leaving you to turn on me once we get to Karli.” He retorts to Bucky and hums, shaking his head. “There’s still much I want to know, including why an American diplomat is tagging along for an altercation against a group of Super Soldiers.”

Zemo looked at you, inspecting your form as you leaned over a tiled column. He lingers on, but you know you have the higher ground. You don’t look the part of super soldier, in the way like the Flag Smashers don’t also. It’s advantageous, it gets you to blend in with the rest of world. You were aware that Zemo has been suspicious ever since you walked through the heavy wooden doors the first time, though, and he was trying to carve information out of you through veiled threats.

“I prefer to keep my leverage.”

This seemed to spur Bucky on. He got up from the couch, stalking towards Zemo in a casual gait, only to grab the teacup from the other man’s grasp and throw it violently at another column.

Your breath hitched.

“You wanna see what someone can do with leverage?”

It sounded almost alien to you, the venom that dripped from Bucky’s words. You definitely hadn’t kept that in your memories of him, and you remind yourself that Bucky was no longer just that gallant boy from Brooklyn, he had more wars and baggage than anyone should carry.

So did you.

Sam got to Bucky before you could get your legs to move. “Take it easy. Don’t engage him. He’s just gonna extort you and do that stupid head tilt thing.”

As if on cue, Zemo tilted his head upright.

Sam retreats to make a call, whacking Bucky on the shoulder as he left the room. The sound makes you shift, and you walked forward to put yourself between him and Zemo.

“Thin fuckin’ ice.” You snarl. Bucky disengaged by leaning on his heels.

“Want some cherry blossom tea?”

You huffed and nudged Bucky’s waist to prompt him to follow you, wanting nothing more to get him – and yourself – away from Zemo before disaster ensued. He still held the information you needed, though his bargaining chips were running out.

You had the distinct feeling that he knew that too.

“No, you go ahead.”

The room you found yourselves next is small, but just as luxurious as the rest of the apartment, with thick embroidered cushions littering a daybed and stained glass on the windows, casting colorful rays of light over the floor.

“You won’t go home if I ask you to, will you?” Bucky asked, and you chuckled.

“Absolutely not.”

A pained little sound left Bucky’s throat, and you sat down on the daybed to face him. He was leaning against the wall, eyebrows knitted.

“It’s like you don’t know me at all, Buck.”

“I do. That’s why I’m worried.” You rolled your eyes at him, making him look away from you, jaw clenched.

You sighed. “Bucky. I’m a highly trained super soldier.” Retired, too, and probably rusty, but you decided to not put that thought on his head. “I have more field experience than you, I bet. Don’t trouble yourself too much.”

His shoulders sagged, and you raised your hand to smooth the collar of his jacket, like you’ve done a million times before, back when you were still only a girl, and he was only a boy. The familiarity in those acts of intimacy covered you like a warm blanket, and you caught yourself wondering if Bucky felt the same.

“I worry about you too, you know. Why I’m here.”

Bucky turned his head to look at you, eyes roaming over your face. “How much did Sam tell you about Madripoor?”

“All of it, I think.”

There was torment in his eyes, that he tried concealing by looking at the floor. He nodded curtly, and the gesture propels you to leap forward and hold his face in your hands.

“Not worried like that.” You knit your eyebrows together, speaking firmly at him. “Worried about you throwing yourself into another fight. And losing you to it, again. So here I am, James, and stop trying to get rid of me.”

He either crashed into you or you into him, you’re not sure, but it barely mattered. Bucky had his arms firmly around you, his forehead resting on your shoulder. A hug that came eight decades too late, making you have to blink tears away.

“Don’t wanna lose you again too.” Bucky mumbled into your hair, and you squeezed him just a little bit tighter.

“You won’t. M’ here.”

I’m here. I’m here. You believed it, because you knew yourself. Keeping away this long, because you knew that once you were with him, you wouldn’t be leaving.

You hoped Bucky believed it, too. You’d tell him over and over, just in case.

The moment was short lived, though, coming to an end the when Sam knocks on the door. You pry yourself apart from him like a band-aid, and the door opens, leaving you and Bucky to compartmentalize and get ready for the next steps in your mission with your backs turned to each other.

“You guys good?” Sam asked, looking from you to Bucky, and you groaned internally at the sight of the slight curl at the corner of his mouth.

It’s not like that, Sam.

“Yeah. Are you?”

He quirks his brow. You quirk yours. His smirk is more out in the open, now.

“C’mon, old guard, we have a funeral to attend.”

You and Bucky shoot him a double glare and follow him back to the living room, then out to the cobblestone streets. Sam specifically said no weapons, no doubt intending to keep things civil, but you strapped a knife to your boot anyway.

Bucky smirked at you when he caught you red handed and showed you the handle of his own knife secured at his hip. It’s funny, how among so many things that haven’t changed at all, remaining intact as if eternized in marble, so many other things did.

It’s the caution. Having a plan B, C, D, up to plan Z. It’s knowing every possible exit points when you enter a room, and it’s strapping a knife to your body even if you’re going on a mission of peace.

You wanted to think that the years made to fade most of your scars, but the smallest things reminded you that faded didn’t mean gone. The weight of the blade on your left foot was doing that, as you walked through the streets of Riga beside Bucky, Sam and Zemo.

“Karli Morgenthau is too dangerous for you guys to be pulling this shit.”

John Walker and Lemar Hoskins jogged down the steps in your direction. Bucky opened his arms in irritation.

“Ah! How’d you find us now?”

It wasn’t really a question.

“Come on. You think two Avengers can walk around Latvia without drawing attention?” Hoskins questioned rhetorically back, and his eyes land on you. You raised your eyebrows at him. “Y/L/N.” He didn’t sound terribly surprised.

“No more keeping us in the dark. You can start by telling us why you broke him out of prison.” Walker’s voice nearly overlapped Hoskins’, and his eyes traveled from Zemo to you.

“He did that himself, technically.” Bucky quipped, and shifted to your side slightly.

“I thought you were on vacation.” Walker sneered, making you shrug. You waved idly at the buildings.

“What? I’m sightseeing.”

“Oh, this better have an unbelievable explanation—” He raised his arms, taking a couple steps in your direction, but you didn’t budge.

You were resigned to simply rest your hands at your hips and wait for his temper tantrum to be over, but Sam clapped him on the chest and commanded him to not make things weird. Walker simmered down enough, which makes you beam proudly at Sam.

“I know where Karli is.”

You’d never be caught dead saying that out loud, but thank heavens for Zemo.

The new Captain America insisted on leading the action and turning it into a hostile one. You couldn’t stop staring at the shield on his back while he strutted ahead and turned, arguing with Sam about whether or not attempting to reason with Morgenthau was a good idea. She was indeed dangerous, but the echo of Sam saying that she was only a child earlier filled your ears.

It was risky, but Sam wasn’t reckless. You believed in him wholly.

“Is that why you roped a diplomat into this? There’s still time to change sides and save your job, Y/L/N.”

You didn’t doubt John Walker could and would get you to lose your job position, but you were aware of that possible outcome the minute you flew yourself to Latvia. That was the kind of inconvenience your future self would have to deal with. Sam looked at you for a brief second, forehead creasing with worry.

“Don’t threaten her, Walker.” Bucky warned him, and it was like you were fighting off a gang of bullies in an alleyway back home again.

“You’ll let him do this? Are you gonna let your partner walk into a room with a Super Soldier, alone?” Walker pressed on, holding Bucky’s stare.

“He’s dealt with worse. And he’s not my partner.”

You highly doubted that. These men were as hard-headed as you were, but you didn’t buy into the whole we-aren’t-friends thing. It was evident, in the way they checked on each other from time to time, and had each other’s backs.

“I used to counsel soldiers dealing with trauma, okay? This is right in my wheelhouse.” Sam stepped forward, and Walker was quick to resume the argument. He was desperate for a win, any win, and you caught yourself wondering if he was truly ready for the role he was given.

Hoskins seemed to be the voice of reason he lacked. Walker gave in, reluctantly, and motioned at Zemo.

“We’ll deal with you later.”

You tapped your feet impatiently.

“Boys, there’s no time for this.”

“I’m sure it will all come to an agreeable conclusion. My associate is just up ahead.”

There was a small girl waiting by the building in front of you. She guided the group to an abandoned factory of some sort, and Zemo announced that Karli was inside, and not long after he was being handcuffed to an iron vault door.

Sam stopped himself in his tracks while Walker manhandles the man, and you and him shared a look.

“You wanna come with?”

“No. It’s two against one, might set her off.” You shook your head, turning to look at Walker as he paced around. “You got this, Sam.”

Sam nodded at you and went in.

Ten minutes. You listened attentively for any signs of struggle, hoping things would go smoothly. Your knife felt heavy inside your shoe. Bucky seemed to be focused on the same task next to you.

John Walker grew more anxious by the minute, and you stopped listening to watch him pace around.

“It hasn’t been ten minutes, John. Just sit tight.” Bucky sighed.

“Don’t do that. Don’t patronize me.”

Rich, coming from him, who seemed keen on doing just that to everyone else. Walker squared his shoulders and marched on, Bucky having to stand on his way to stop him. You got off your post on the stairs and blocked the rest of the way. Walker glared at you, then at him.

“This is all really easy for you, isn’t it? All that serum runnin’ through your veins.”

Of course, he would consider the serum more of a blessing than the true curse it was. You exhaled sharply, struggling to keep your emotions in check, watching Bucky’s back as Walker continued.

“Barnes, your partner needs backup in there. Do you really want his blood on your hands?”

You could almost see Bucky’s resolve wavering.

“Bucky, don’t.”

“You really want a casualty that big, Ambassador?”

“You need to cool down, Walker. Sam is—”

You didn’t get to finish, because Walker is barreling his way through you and towards Karli Morgenthau. Hoskins is pushing you and Bucky back as you try to get to Sam and the girl before things blew up even further.

“Walker you can’t—”

“Karli Morgenthau, you’re under arrest.”

Karli knocks Walker down, and Bucky managed to shove Hoskins away to run after her.

“Y/N, ten minutes!” Sam said as the both of you ran off to join the pursuit.

“I know, Sam! There’s no reasoning with this guy!” You groaned. “I’ll go this way, cover more ground.”

Sam nodded, his concerned expression mirroring yours.

You split up as you take off to your right, passing through archways and enclosed cubbyholes, finding nothing but old industrial machinery and junk.

Gunshots.

You counted four, at least.

You managed to pick up the source of the sound after the third discharge, somewhere at the lower level of the building. It would take you forever to find your way down the traditional way.

You landed on the ground floor with a soft thud, and couldn’t help but grin as you look up at the window you had just jumped from. Not bad, though the impact was unexpected and almost knocked the wind out of you.

The sound of smashed glass prompted you to snap back to reality and run into the basement of the factory, the place holding massive iron pipes and boilers. Zemo had his back to you, gun in hand.

A flash of red curly hair poked from behind the last pipe. You tiptoed your way to Karli, crouching next to her. She was clutching her side, blood seeping through her fingers. The receiving end of the shots.

Karli looked at you with terrified eyes, then up, and your gaze followed hers to a man you didn’t recognize, but one of her friends without doubt.

“Get out of here, kid. Go.”

She wasted no time, clambering up the stairs and disappearing through a metal door.

Faster than you and Zemo could acknowledge each other’s actions, he was hit on the heat with flying metal, sending him unconscious to the floor. John Walker stepped into the light.

“Morgenthau?”

“Gone. I was too late.”

Walker appeared to believe you, or he didn’t care, eyeing with interest the shards of fine glass littered on the floor. Zemo had smashed every single vial of serum before being hit with the shield. You kneel next to him and check his pulse.

“Is he…?”

“No. Just out.” You breathed. Walker let out a disappointed hum, leaving you to attempt to waken Zemo by yourself.

Bucky and Sam entered through the door that Karli had escaped through, and Hoskins through the doorway you came in before.

“What did we miss?”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #will reblog w taglist

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gagmebucky · 4 years

Text

[steve. breeding kink. baby.]

“Wanna know what makes it worse?” Steve leans in and trails his nose along the inviting curve of your shoulder and neck until his lips are adjacent with your ear. “My sense of smell, it tells me when your body is just ripe for the taking. It’s like you’re fucking calling me every single month—begging me to put your little pussy out of your misery. . . fuck and fuck until you’re milkin’ my kid right outta me.”

in which you’re playing with a baby and steve can’t resist himself. (includes steve’s pov, avenger!steve rogers x girlfriend!reader, breeding kink, dirty talk, praise kink, mild daddy kink, unprotected sex.)

do not repost.

—

Procedure requires debriefing at the end of every mission. In this hours-long process, an agent must recap the objectives and the means used to achieve them; deviations to the original plan and why; as well as whether success was gained, and any other pertinent intel possibly acquired.

This routine is mandatory for all those working for and with an organization like S.H.I.E.L.D.; not even the Avengers are exempt from this. Except in this particular case where the titular first of the super-powered team has forgone the professional necessity, and instead, is in search of you.

Normally, America’s golden boy can handle the dangers that occur in such a violent but imperative field. He understands the risks and pressures inherent to his line of duty, and he’s always accepted it, dealt with it because the overall outcome dwarfs the bad.

On this particular assignment, however, the stakes were higher than usual and although the quick snap-quick decisions he made ultimately paid off, it didn’t soften the blow of the sacrifices made. Times like this, he has to wonder if it’s worth it.

The tension weighs on his shoulders and crackles underneath his skin; his synapses are frayed with the memory of each fallen agent, the orders he doled out preambling every one, and the electricity curls his fists and locks his jaw. It’s corrupting that logical part of his brain, and that craving for vengeance can’t be sated with his knuckles breaking a few punching bags.

In rare moments like these, when the serum is pumping through his veins like rabies, there’s one thing to straighten the edges and bring him back from the trenches. That solace is you; your alluring smile and twinkling eyes, the musical carry of your laugh, your seemingly innate ability to figure out what’s wrong and quell the turmoil cycloning inside of him.

So he doesn’t report to Fury like he’s supposed to, doesn’t go over the myriad of errors that only worsened as the mission progressed—no one stops him either.

When employees spot him marching down the corridors, stealth suit still on and rippling across his hulking mass, his strides colliding deafeningly with the floor, handsome and affable features tightened intensely, their only recourse is moved out of the way. Thankfully, they get the hint because if someone hadn’t, he knows he’d snap and do something he might regret.

His senses, formerly haywire in his manic state, have lasered into tunnel focus; his eardrums hone in on the specific sound wave of your crooning voice, and the olfactory nerves in his nostrils guide him in a trail to the source of your intoxicating essence.

Steve slams the door open and storms into the upper, restricted level of the headquarters. His hastened pace slows upon your increased dose, lulling his awareness and distance waning significantly. As his search nears its end, he recognizes where he’s at: the luxurious space designed by and created for Tony Stark.

The doors are open so he doesn’t waste time knocking (not that he possesses the patience to abide by his hundred year old manners). Upon entry, he’s taken the tranquility occupying the atmosphere and the sight of you bathed in the sun’s glow; bright rays beam through the impenetrable windowed wall of the tower while you gently rock the three month old baby perched on your shoulder, probably basking in the dual warmth of you and the star.

From afar, behind you, the brown-eyed girl’s mother stands. With her head tilted and soft gratefulness slanted into her lips, the strawberry blonde’s hip rests against the office’s wet bar and watches fondly as you effortlessly soothe her child’s fussiness into a thumb-sucking slumber.

“Aren’t they cute?” Pepper Potts remarks as he steps beside her. Her gaze maintains on his girlfriend and her daughter. “Morgan would not stop crying for the past few hours, and I did everything to calm her down. I was frazzled and at my wit’s end then I handed her off to her aunt, and now she’s as quiet as a mouse.” She pauses and spares a glance over to his adoration-fixed stare, a slyness twisting into her smile. “I don't know what stage you two are at but she’d make a great mom.”

Steve knows you occasionally babysit for the Starks, but he’s never seen you like this. You’re in your element, swaying back and forth while you hum inaudibly into the infamous delicate baby’s ear. Her small hands are curled around your neck and her face nuzzled into the crease of your shoulder, with the opposing thumb slid between her lips as her big chocolate eyes flutter into a peaceful rest.

Suddenly breathless—but it’s not from the exertion—he has to agree, nodding his head. “Y - yeah,” he answers to both statements because it’s fucking adorable, and while there’s never been a doubt about your caring nature, this cements the fact that you would be an amazing mother. The sensation boils in his gut, and his fingers twitch at his sides. “Has she always been this good with her?”

“Oh, yeah,” Pepper tells him matter-of-factly. “With her, other kids, too. She came with us to the park, and this one kid was screaming his head off and she just went over and poof! He was happy.” Her eyes are back on your slow pacing silhouette. “I would swear she was made for this. I bet she was a nanny in another life.”

His knuckles clench as her words ignite the simmering inferno of his being. Made for this, made for this, echoes in his head and he has to remind himself that he’s in public. But the primal image of you, radiating like an angel with a little piece of him growing inside you, has already carved itself in the forefront of his psyche.

Steve has never been into traditional gender roles, not even when he was in his time and it was the norm (he’s always been a very progressive thinker). But, God, he can’t deny the appeal now that he has you. There’s something so primally satisfying about having you at home, free of any worries that aren’t about your family, potentially—preferably—knocked up.

The carnal urge grips him more intensely than before. Usually, he can suppress that visceral desire to bury himself bare inside you and spill his virility until he further claims you as his. However, receiving a glimpse of you in this maternal state, it has every instinct screaming that you’re irrefutably perfect and primed.

As if on cue, you turn around with the effectively lullabied infant clinging around your neck. After a flicker of surprise, pleasant then concerned, you pad on over to carefully hand over Morgan to her thankful mother. Your attention rivets back to him with a knitted brow gaze.

“Babe, hey,” you greet in a gentle voice. Worry ebbs into your gaze amongst the usual stare of attraction upon dragging across the navy blue material that still clings to his muscular torso. You offer your hand, which he immediately takes, and you guide him out of the office into the hallway. The door shuts behind you, and the sectioned off level is empty, but your voice is still quiet when asking, “What happened?”

You stand barely a breath away, and the proximity pacifies his senses. His stance loosens while a smile upturns a corner of his mouth. “Nothing,” he answers then clarifies, “Nothing that matters anymore, anyway.”

The amendment dwindles your concerned curiosity because it’s honest—he doesn’t need to dwell when you’re standing here—and you can hear it; another lovingly scrutinizing up-and-down glance confirms that his earlier disquietude has settled significantly.

“D’you have fun back there?” he goes onto wonder, eyes flickering over to the closed door. Your earlier titillatingly visage snaps into his brain, and he subconsciously bites down on his bottom lip. “You looked like you were.”

You accept his subject-change with a nonchalant shrug. “Babies like me, and I like them,” you tell him, smiling at the admission. “What can I say?”

“I don’t know. Maybe that you want me to knock you up.” The words fumble out of his mouth before he thinks about it, and while he hadn’t intended on letting it slip, if he did, it would’ve been without the serious fluctuation he blurted it out with.

In a lame attempt to correct his slip of the tongue regarding a topic you both rarely discussed, he quickly adds, “I’m joking.” A surprised expression had crossed your features upon processing his former response, transitioning into something he can’t yet pinpoint if he likes. As if to test the waters—or dig himself into a deeper hole—he says, matter-of-factly, borderline suggestive, “But you know, back in my day, you’d probably already have a few popped out by now.”

“Mr. Rogers!” you gasp in an almost-shocked tone, but your cheeks split with a devious grin. “Are you telling me you want to be a daddy?”

Disheveled by his mission, then upended by your placating presence, he’s more awkward than the day he met you. “Fuck. Look, I’d never pressure you, okay?” For the millionth time, the previous scene plays mentally; he exhales heavily. “It’s just you with her, and I. . . never mind.” He shakes his head, deciding he’s still on the edge from both events today, and dismisses his animalistic inkling. “Act like I didn’t say anything.”

You fold your arms and nod.

“Uh-huh, daddy,” you drawl, scintillating in mischievousness that simultaneously has his heart skipping a beat and his cock jumping. Your smirk widens before disappearing beneath a cascade of feigned innocence. “We can just act like you don’t want me to have your kid.”

His lips part at your teasing twist of his words. “That’s - that’s not what I said.”

“Isn’t it?” You lift a brow. “It is. So, maybe I should find a guy who does. I think any other man would take immense pleasure in going condomless inside of me.” One hand wiggles into your jacket pocket while you peddle away from his orbit; a rectangular plastic ruffles as his reflexes instinctively catch it. “You know, I think Bucky would really appreciate me. I bet he’d have the manners to really wife me up and make me—“

He knows you’re poking fun of him; playfulness alight within your gaze that he usually enjoys. In actuality, he understands there’s zero truth in your jesting and he’d be more amused than jealous. However, currently, the circumstances have corrupted his sensibilities.

“That’s not funny.”

Your laugh echoes musically. “It’s not ‘cause it isn’t a joke,” you say between your giggles, your amusement pardoning your spacial awareness. “I mean—Steve!” Your yelp is louder and even more musical when he surges forth and reigns you in.

Air expels from your chest as his body cages yours against the wall. Using one hand to brace himself above you, his opposing appendage tilts your dazed blinking up. “Now do you really think I don’t want you to carry my kid?” he rumbles. “Because if it were up to me, I would’ve taken claim to your womb the second I saw you.”

Your breathing hitches, and you try to remain unaffected but he’s too keen on your reactions to be fooled. “O - oh?”

“Yeah.” His tongue swipes across his bottom lip. “Wanna know what makes it worse?” He leans in and trails his nose along the inviting curve of your shoulder and neck until his lips are adjacent to your ear. “My sense of smell, it tells me when your body is just ripe for the taking. It’s like you’re fucking calling me every single month—begging me to put your little pussy out of your misery. . . fuck and fuck until you’re milkin’ my kid right outta me.”

A sound, hybrid between a moan and a gasp, escapes your throat; humor eviscerated, desire exudes from you and submerges his senses in a provoking intoxication. The rush sinks into his brain and triggers that visceral frenzy within him but he has no interest in suppressing it anymore.

He releases a guttural groan and grabs your hips. His big hands splay on either side, thumb slightly kneading back and forth, and he draws you in closer. “I can smell you right now, too. Not only how wet you’re gettin’ but that it’s that time for you, isn’t it?” he purrs and nips at your lobe. “You’re mine for the taking.” His teeth catch your pulse, sucking a mark onto the vulnerable skin. “Hm, baby?”

“Y - yes!” you moan wantonly loud as your weight sags into his embrace. “Always.”

“Good—” His hands cinch on your flanks and abruptly hoist you up: prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist and your arms to encircle around his neck. “—cause holding back with you is gonna be impossible.”

With your body clutched around his abdomen, he heads for the closest empty room, scoped out via his enhanced hearing. Unceremoniously, he turns a handle and breaks the lock of the unused office space; two doors down from the main room, it’s smaller but it has a sturdy-looking desk in the center.

He kicks the door shut and sets you down as your lips find his. Although you’re sat down, legs dangling over the wooden edge, you keep your elbows hooked around the nape of his neck and coax a ragged groan out of his chest with the deft stroke of your tongue.

“Shit, baby,” he breathes and parts from you in order to yank your jacket down your shoulders. Tossing it off the side, he reveals a braless tank top and your nipples he can see have pebbled underneath. His imagination takes off once more, envisioning what the already perfect twins will look like in the wake of his seed taking root inside you.

His blood pumps viciously, flowing downward and flooding his cock to strain beneath the oppressive stealth-suit fabric. Like you’re reading his mind, you unhook the utility belt and similarly shove it off somewhere on the side.

Something rustles, and it’s the condom you’d thrown at him. Absentmindedly tucked under the cinch of the belt previously, it falls into your undressing hands. Your eyes rivet up to him, lashes fluttering big, as you hold it between two fingers: halfway offering. “What are you gonna do, daddy?”

At that particular moment, it occurs to him that you’re doubting his seriousness. While abundantly clear you want this, you’re dubious on whether he’s going through it. Which is preposterous, but he figures that the look on your face when he spills inside you bareback will only further his orgasm, consequently heightening the odds of his end-goal.

He plucks the packaging from of your grip, holds it up as your gazes clash and makes a show out of discarding it out of reach. Then he seizes your knees and slides your ass to the edge so your center is flushed against him, rocking into his hardened imprint.

“You,” he answers your query, tone a growl, as he peels your jeans off. He continues on just to shred your panties. “I’m doing you. With nothing to separate me from you, nothing to keep you from your rightful destiny: knocked up with our baby.”

“Please,” is all you utter, but the room’s thick with sensory evidence of your essence.

Spreading your thighs as far as possible, he glances down to spit lewdly on your glistening mound; a long dribble of saliva coating your eager button and slit. He uses his thumb to smear it all over, mixing with the puddle you’re creating, dipping into your sticky folds with his middle finger.

The whole time, you’re choking with these hungry and appreciative little noises. Likewise, you’re watching as he prepares you thoroughly and roughly to wring the cum out of him. “S - Steve,” you mewl coherently and buck into his messy caress. Your fingers are tugging pleading on the lower half of his uniform. “I need you. Please!”

It is about damn time.

His control has been witting away since the first time you called him daddy. He swiftly wrenches the suit down and exposes his leaking, throbbing cock to your tunnel of relief. His size always dwarfs your kempt triangle; an initial observation one might come to is the improbability he won’t fit. But he does, every single time, and in this special instance, he’s going to ensure all of his formidable length is buried in your fertile heat.

He rasps his tip over your clit, plastering his translucent white pre-cum over the engorged nub, then traces down the crease of your slit. As he prods in, his hands span your thighs and help open up your elastic entrance for his ravenous cock. He stretches your tightness slow but unyieldingly while you both watch with labored breathing, transfixed by the sight of your dripping core enveloping his veined and tanned angry stalk until he’s nudging your cervix.

“Good girl,” he grits out, strangled by the electricity prickling his nerves. He slips support underneath your ass, intertwining from the inner to the outer so when he hauls you up, your knees are bent over his elbows. “You ready to make me a daddy, baby?”

“Yes!” You nod quickly with a moan. “Shit, you’re big—and deep. Really fucking deep.”

He chuckles huskily because if you think that now, he can’t wait to see you once he’s truly plundered new depths. “Now, you just hold on tight and let me do all the work. I only want you to focus on givin’ me a baby, okay?”

In the middle of an abandoned office room—possibly a storage area—he heaves you up and drops you back down. Your arms curl around his neck, hands twisting into his suit, while he alters between gravity and his hips jutting forth to drill inside you.

Without any mind to those around you—just you and him—he fucks you with every ounce of strength coiled into his super-charged build. Ignoring the fact that door is unlocked, broken more specifically, and the possibility that there’s likely high quality surveillance cameras watching, your shared sounds of carnality fills the room in between the harsh collision of skin.

Each propelling thrust seems to jostle further than further, carving himself into your inner walls. Like he said before, he handles all the work, effortlessly bouncing your sporadically clenching channel with his inhuman strength and stamina; leaving you to accept and bask in the stimulation his cock is providing and the gift he’ll be depositing inside of you any time now.

Your lips are breathless in his ear, gasping, “Daddy, please,” that has him climbing the rope faster. The beg pours gasoline on an already roaring fire, igniting wildly to burn up his legs then his stomach and on its way to take him under.

“Y’gonna make me a daddy, baby? You’re gonna be a pretty lil’ mommy and take care of us? Is that what you want?” he croons, identifying the way you tighten as your steadily approaching orgasm. “Y’gonna have your pretty pussy squeeze me until I’m shooting my load and knocking you up?”

He’s pretty sure your nails have punctured the suit’s resilient material. “S - Steve, fuck! Please. Yes! Cum inside me—cum inside me—“ you cry out with genuine desperation that his limbs tingling numbly. “I want it. I want you. Please. I wanna feel you!”

His jaw locks and works you somehow even harder. The room is completely engulfed with you, your arousal, the potency of your ovulation, and your future with him; once he releases, it’ll only seal the fact that you’re his and belong to him (as well as vice versa).

“Who’s gonna be a daddy, baby? Who are you making a daddy, baby?” His words are practically slurred while fever coalesces across his entirety. “Who owns your pretty little pussy and your womb?”

“You—Steve—daddy,” you sob as your orgasm seizes up around his cock, giving him no other choice other than to: “Cum inside me, daddy—!”

Something beastly rips out of his chest, and without protest, he gifts you exactly what you want. He burrows into the absolute hilt and fires inside you for what feels like forever. Spurts of ooze finally wane, nudging your fruitful cervix, but even then, he doesn’t dare retreat from your heavenly depths.

The aftershocks force him to set you back down on the desk, still buried and keeping you stuffed. His face nuzzles the junction between your neck and shoulder languorously, and you lazily run your fingers through his hair, walls periodically pulsating.

When he regains the energy, he straightens and pulls out of you until his bulbous head is blocking your entrance; he stops there because he realizes something. “It’s gonna leak, and as hot as that is, I need to keep you full, baby.” Abruptly, he hauls you up and shuffles the position so that he’s sitting on the desk, and you’re sitting on his cock.

Your sensitivity flares around him, and you squeal. “F - fuck!” But you adjust to comfortability, blinking at him. “For how long?”

A smile curls into his lips, and he strokes your cheek while his other hand lays on your belly. “For as long as it takes.”

[masterlist / feedback]

#steve rogers x you smut #steve rogers imagines #steve x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers smut #marvel reader insert #marvel smut imagines #my writing #marvel imagines #my fics #mANY ERRORS

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jinmukangwrites · 3 years

Text

Whumptober Day 31

Experiment

Ao3

Last day.... 😭

Summary: The people who kidnapped Dick are fans from his circus days. They saw his parents fall, and they saw him never fly again. They decide they want to make him fly again, even if they have to break him to do it.

-o-o-o-o-

They tell him that they were fans... way back when. That they used to follow along on Hayley’s tours and go as far as to attend as many shows as possible, just to see three performers fly. They didn’t care if the lion tamer quit, or if the bearded lady was sick, or if the contortionist sprained her wrist. They came just to sit in the front rows to watch John, Mary, and Dick—the best trapeze artists in the world—flying high above the crowd. It would sound flattering if it wasn’t creepy, especially all these years later as Dick tried to breathe through the agony, pressed against his stomach with his limbs strapped down like a bug with needles through all the little appendages.

They say they went to the Gotham show. They say they saw his parents fall. They say they tried to find him. They say they’re sorry for not finding him quick enough before he was in Bruce Wayne’s care.

Dick hates it. Dick hates that with every passing year of his life, someone will always find him and give him another reason for his happy, joy filled memories of the circus to be tainted with villainy. He’s always in a state of pain now, hardly even able to hear their words, but he saw one of their faces. He recognized one of their faces.

He tries to writhe on the table. All it does is cause something connected to his back to twitch. They gasp, they laugh, they congratulate themselves.

They say they missed him. They say he’s grown so big. They say they want to see him fly again. They say they’ve spent decades learning to make him fly again.

All it took was a kidnapping, an unimaginable amount of agonizing serum injections, a multitude of surgeries where they gave him what painkillers and sedation they could and he’d wake up with pain seeping down from his back into his spine into his very bones.

By the time Bruce came and fought them all down into submission, Dick knew it was already too late. He didn’t need to hear Bruce’s gasp or Jason’s swear or Tim’s frightened sharp intake of air. He didn’t need Cass and Duke to help him sit up, he didn’t need to see Damian look at him with wide, horrified eyes. He didn’t need his family's terror to know he’s different now. To know the weight on his back isn’t his imagination. To know he’ll never be the same, because he’s different now, straight down to the little A’s and C’s and G’s and T’s of his DNA.

He’s different now.

And he doesn’t know if he can ever go back.

The rescue is all a blur. So much so that he’s only slightly aware of the drive back to Gotham... back to the cave. All he remembers is being cradled carefully in Bruce’s arms, feeling lighter than what he should, but more bulky thanks to the weight curled tightly flush against his back. He greets his awakening to find he’s laying on his stomach... and while he knows it’s so they don’t put pressure on his back, it also causes every single one of his nerves to sky rocket with anxiety and terror. He’s spent... months on his stomach.

He’s too weak and he cries. Couldn’t they have laid him on his side?

Someone calls his name, but he’s too deep in his own sorrow to listen. His family asks if he’s hurting, or if he needs something, or something along those lines, but all he can do is try to clutch the medical cot against his stomach and put strength into just one of his arms.

The things on his back jerk violently and something crashes, and he wants to see the damage he’s caused, but the movement screwed up everything in his brain. His vision blurs and his stomach rolls, but thankfully before he can throw up, he’s out like a light.

The next time he’s awake, things are easier. Though, easy doesn’t necessarily mean okay.

The next time he’s awake, he’s not okay. Far from it. But he’s on his side, the weights on his back are comfortably laid out behind him on what feels like another cot and a table to cover the entire expanse. He wonders briefly if they’ve looked at the... at the things on his back. Took samples. Plucked feathers. Blood tests. Bone marrow. Experimented on him in a way that’s so similar and so different from his former captors. He almost cries right there, but then he opens his eyes and he sees Bruce sitting on a chair besides him, instantly perking and giving a sympathetic smile the moment he sees Dick looking at him.

Dick then knows that besides laying out the w- at the things on his back, they haven’t touched them. Dick’s been violated a lot in his life, but never quite like this. His entire body is different now, down to the hollowness of his bones.

Bruce wouldn’t touch him without his permission. Dick can see it in his eyes.

“How bad?” Dick asks. He can feel every nerve in the parts of his body that shouldn’t belong to him, but he hasn’t seen them yet. He’s seen glimpses, but his captors were always careful to keep them either tucked to his back or spread out and strapped down to tables against his side. Dick asks how bad, when in reality he wants to know how ugly.

Bruce sighs, looking so much older than what he is. People always get Bruce’s age wrong, especially when they see Dick first. Here Dick is, less than 5 years shy from thirty, and they expect Bruce to be well into his fifties. He’s not, he’s hardly into his late forties, but right now it looks like Bruce could be a hundred years old.

“They’re expertly attached to your spine,” is what Bruce says, and Dick closes his eyes, and pretends the report Bruce is about to give belongs to someone else. Anyone else. Someone other than Dick Grayson. “The wingspan is about thirteen feet...” Dick now tunes it out. Tunes out the weight, the possibility of flight.

He’s heard wingspan, and now it's all real.

It’s not a weight on his back. It’s not a pressure in his spine. It’s not something he accidentally moves when he’s trying to move his arm.

Wings. They gave him wings.

Wings—he finds when he finally works up the courage to look—that are colored similar to the feathers belonging to a parrot. Similar to the red, green, and yellow of his circus uniform. He had almost expected black and blue feathers, but it seems that when his captors and torturers said they were past fans, they truly meant it.

Red, green, and yellow. Some might immediately think Robin.

Dick just thinks of the circus. Dick thinks of his mom. His dad. The tainted memories that he now has to stuff into a jar.

How badly does the world hate Dick Grayson to corrupt these memories?

Cass tries to help. She says that they look pretty, and Dick appreciates it. He does. She says the colors are fun, and that they’re him. The yellow tips, the green accents, the crimson feathers on the inside. He just wishes they weren’t him. He wishes that he didn’t need to shift his balance the first time Leslie, Bruce, and the vet—who they felt obligated to bring onto the team after much questioning and digging up on—let him stand. It’s dehumanizing, for these wings to belong to him.

He doesn’t tell Cass that.

Leslie says she’ll research ways to help him. Bruce says things will get better. The vet, a nice lady by the name of Tina Butler, says that Dick can call her whenever he needs it and he shouldn’t feel any shame to.

And then they all expect him to go back to his normal life. They expect him to smile. They expect him to get out of bed. They expect him to interact and joke. Maybe they expect him to find a way to go out as Nightwing.

Nightwing. He’ll have to change the name.

If he ever goes out again.

He has wings now. Nobody has mentioned it, but until they find a way to remove the wings without destroying his spine, he has to choose a life.

Dick Grayson can come out to the public about his kidnapping and involuntary body modifications, and stuff secret identities and nightlife’s into a locked box and bury it somewhere... or Nightwing can change his name and look and let Dick Grayson stop existing.

Dick chooses to not care. Dick chooses to stay in his room until someone calls him down for dinner. Dick chooses to hate himself. Hate the wings. Pluck out the tiny feathers he can reach just to throw them into the fireplace.

He doesn’t think about how when birds are stressed, they’ll tear out their own feathers.

He just tucks the appendages that he doesn’t want close to his back and have never wanted to his back, then wraps a blanket around his shoulders to keep his chest warm and tries to pretend he doesn’t exist.

It works well for a week. It works through everybody passing by his locked bedroom door, it works through every meal hastily stuffed in his mouth whenever he finds time to go down in between everyone’s schedules to not talk to any of them.

It works until Jason bursts into his room, looks him up and down, takes in the bald patches of the wings, then grabs him by the hand.

“Jay...” Dick mumbles, trying to tug out of Jason’s grip, but it doesn’t work. Nothing works anymore.

“We’re going outside,” Jason says.

Fear curdles in Dick’s gut as he stumbles along with Jason. He doesn’t want to go outside. He doesn't want anyone to see him. With his free hand, he tightens the blanket around his shoulders and forces himself to ignore the softness of the feathers tickling the small of his back.

Somehow, against all odds, they don’t run into anyone else while going downstairs and outside the back doors into the seemingly endless expanse of the Manors backyard. There’s strategically placed bushes and trees here and there, but it’s a good run away until they run into the forests’ of Bristol, and the surrounding property fences.

There’s a soft breeze in the air, and the sun is... warm. It feels good through his unwashed hair.

He hates that it feels good on the feathers as the outside air slips off his blanket.

“Sit,” Jason instructs after they have walked the expanse of the grounds and came across a small pond with a man-made stream leading into it. Jason plops himself down on a small boulder and sticks his bare feet into what’s definitely cool water. There’s a fish swimming in a circle further into the water.

Dick slowly lowers himself with unsure movements, careful to keep the wings pressed against his back, tied up by the blanket. Jason pulls out a bag that Dick hadn’t noticed he was carrying and opens the sleeve.

He pulls out three books.

“What one?”

Dick stills; looks at the covers over one by one. No Promises in the Wind... Lord of the Rings... a big ol’ book of Shakespeare.

“That one, I think,” Dick says, pointing to Shakespeare. Dick’s always liked Shakespeare, especially Hamlet.

“Wrong,” Jason says, reaching into his bag to pull out a fourth book. “We’re reading Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.”

Dick can’t help it. He lets out a small, genuine feeling laugh. Jason carefully puts the other books back inside his bag and opens the book he probably planned to read from the beginning, but just wanted something to break the ice. Dick unconsciously settles and brings his hand to his chin to watch Jason read. Jason has such a nice reading voice. One that pulls you in. One filled with so much emotion that you forget your own and get sucked into the story and the characters and the imaginary problems...

So much so, that Jason closes the book close to thirty minutes later and stands up and Dick’s practically slammed back into his ruined body.

“Let’s go,” Jason says, and Dick slowly stands up, careful of his center of gravity.

“That’s it?” Dick asks.

“Yup.”

Dick frowns, but follows Jason back to the manor.

As he walks, the breeze crawls under his blanket again and ruffles the feathers, practically chasing that always itchy feeling away. He risks moving his blanket so the breeze can better get to the wings. It feels really good. Better than wind through his hair.

He shakes his head and tightens the blanket again. Just because something feels good doesn’t mean it’s right.

-o-o-o-o-

Jason comes back around the same time the next day and grabs Dick by the hand once again. They make it back to the pond and sit down and Jason starts right where he left off.

Fifteen minutes pass before another body slowly sits down next to him. Damian. About two feet away, not making any move to come closer.

Dick wants him closer. He wants to hug and cuddle. It’s been so long.

But he’s afraid of the tainted wings on his back getting in the way.

The process continues over the week, each drop of fresh air becoming something that he looks forward to more and more every day. It’s the fifth day where he finds himself so engrossed in Jason’s storytelling that he doesn’t even notice that the blanket has slipped down his shoulder towards the middle of his back. Cass and Tim are out with them when it happens, and neither of them say a thing.

It’s the eighth day where Dick lets the blanket down almost fully. The wind feels really good, especially on the spots where he’s torn out his- the feathers. He’s been trying to stop. Someone in the family tattled on him to Tina about him pulling out feathers, and she gave him a cream that should help with the itching and soreness after a stern talking to that this is his body, and he’s hurting it even if he doesn’t want it.

Dick doesn’t think about it that way. They’re not a part of his body. They’re not his. They were grown from his back against his will.

He doesn’t want them.

But the wind feels good. And no one says anything.

And Jason’s really good at reading, even though they’ve gone through four books now.

Four weeks after coming home, about two since Jason began his daily ritual of kidnapping Dick and bringing him outside, Dick decides to leave his room without the blanket on his own power. Hours before Jason is due to arrive. He sneaks past everyone, thinking softly to himself if it would be possible to make some sort of hoodie that could cover his chest but not squish the wings.

He goes outside and just walks. And walks. And it feels really, really good. Those little places of the wings where the torn out feathers are beginning to grow back practically scream with joy.

He walks. Then runs, feeling the burning in his legs until keeping the wings against his back becomes too much. Too strenuous. Too annoying. He stops running and moves the wings twitch by twitch until they’re stretched out further than what his arm-span is. Until every single feather is alive and rustling. For a second, Dick thinks about working the joints until it feels natural, until he can work them up and down and catch the wind, and maybe...

He closes his wings. But he doesn’t frown. He just looks back at the manor and thinks that maybe his life isn’t over. Maybe he can enjoy himself just a little. Maybe... he can turn this awful thing into something tolerable. He strolls back to the pond and sits down and waits for Jason and Damian and Cass and Duke and Tim and Bruce to all come out worried out of their minds because they couldn’t find him in his usual place in his room.

Dick laughs. Stretches his wings, and secretly enjoys how they all look shocked.

“I’m okay,” he says, and he believes it.

Damian immediately runs forward, and Dick meets him with open arms. His wings don’t touch Damian until he slowly risks curling them around in front of him. And when they touch Damian, they don’t taint him.

He laughs, and for the first time in a long time, he feels hopeful that maybe everything can turn out okay.

-o-o-o-o-

Hiya! I bet y'all weren't expecting a little authors not right here huh? Anyway, hi I'm Jin and I just want to tell you all how thankful I have been for all of your support. Every comment, like, and reblog means the world to me. Whumptober has been difficult but so much fun, and I couldn't have done it without any of you. Thanks for reading!

If you want more from me, feel free to go through my ao3 or my blog, I have a ton more whump from my bad things happen bingo series, and I have a few hurt and comfort fics as well, a fluff here and there. Thanks for joining me on this journey! Don't hesitate to reach out to me in asks and comments. I swear I'm not a mean person.

Anyway, thanks again!!! You guys are all amazing.

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fanaticfangirl001 · 3 years

Text

Like Real People Do Ch 6: The Stain

Taglist: @p3nny4urth0ught5, @kissofvenom922,

Author’s note: Considering Sam’s TT, it’s very common in the South to give relatives nicknames, especially in the African American community(Just in case anyone was confused during the episode)

Winnie flops down on the couch and sighs.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

“Sam, this whole thing is fucked up.” Winnie rubs her temples.

“Well once this is all over, I’ll leave you and Buck alone.”

“No reason to. He hates me.”

“Huh?”

“ At Sharon’s place. I confronted him and he brushed me off. I mean it was stupid to think that.”

“Wait, you think Buck hates you because he wouldn’t open up to you.”

“Exactly, we’ve talked about stuff before.”

“Stuff like feelings?”

“No. I’m pretty sure we’re just going to stuff those down and then one day, we die.”

“That’s not healthy.”

“Did you imagine us to have a healthy way of coping with our shit?”

“No, but once everything is over, try therapy.”

“I’d screw it up.”

“There’s nothing to screw up.”

“I’d screw up the therapist. There’s a lot, Sam, none of it is great.”

Zemo walks out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist and Bucky walks through the front door.

“Well the Wakandans are here. They want Zemo. Bought us some more time.”

“Were you followed?”

“No.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Winnie sits up from the couch.

“Because I know when I’m being followed.”

“It was sweet of you to defend me at least.”

“Hey, you shut it. No one’s defending you.You killed Nagel”

“Don’t put too much stock in it.” Winnie warns. “You mean to an end.”

“You’d be bored without me.” Zemo says to Winnie then adds “ Do we really have to litigate what may or may not have happened.”

“There’s nothing to litigate. You straight shot a man.”

“Point blank.” Winnie adds.

“Sam.”

“What?”

“Karli bombed a GRC supply depot.”

“What? What’s the damage?”

“Eleven injured, three dead. They have a list of demands and are promising more attacks if those demands aren’t met.”

“She’s getting worse.”

“Take it from the man that bombed the UN to know what worse is.” Winnie muses.

“I accept the assistance but I can handle these two.” Zemo pours himself a cup of tea. “I have the will to complete this mission. Do the three of you?”

“She’s just a kid.”

“You’re seeing something in her that isn’t there. You’re clouded by it.”

“Sam, she is a kid, but she’s making some adult moves.” Winnie adds. “But she has done more for the displaced than the GRC ever did.”

“She’s a supremacist. The very concept of a Super Soldier will always trouble people. It’s that warped association that led to Nazis, to Ultron, to the Avengers.”

“You’re talking about our friends.”

“The avengers, not the nazis.”

“So, Karli is radicalized, but there has to be a peaceful way to stop her.”

“It would have to be in some neutral location. I don’t want any surprise attacks. Sam, you’d be the best choice.”

“The desire to become a superhuman cannot be separated from supremacist ideals. Anyone with that serum is inherently on that path. She will not stop. She will escalate until you kill her.Or she kills you.”

“Maybe you’re wrong Zemo. The serum never corrupted Steve.”

“Touche. But there has never been another Steve Rogers, has there?”

“One of a kind, a good man trained to be a soldier.”

“Well, maybe we should give him to the Wakandans right now.”

“And you’ll give up your tour guide.”

“Yes.”

“From my understanding Donya is like a pillar of the community, right? So when I was a kid my TT passed away.”

“Your TT?”

“Yeah, my TT, yeah.”

“Who is your TT?”

“Fine, when I was a kid,my aunt passed away, and the entire neighborhood got together for a ceremony. It was like a week long. Maybe they’re doing the same thing for Donya.”

“We’re not crashing a memorial.”

“Worth a shot.”

“Your TT would be proud of you.” Zemo tosses a piece of candy towards Sam “ Turkish Delight.”

He gestures towards Winnie.

“No thank you. I’ve read The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, too many times to be taken in by perfume candy.”

“Shame what’s become of this place. When I was young, we used to come here for fabulous dinners and parties.I know nothing of the politics of the time, of course.But I remember it being beautiful.”

“I’ll play you a song from the smallest violin, later, what we need is information.” Winnie says from behind him.

“I’m gonna take a look upstairs.See what you can find down here. Keep an eye on him.”Sam says leaving the group.

“I’ll stay out of your way.”

Winnie looks around seeing small groups of children playing. She softly smiles.

“You like children?” Zemo asks softly.

“Yeah so.”

“Follow my lead.”

Winnie rolls her eyes but takes Zemo’s outstretched hand.

“Baa baa black sheep have you any wool.”

Winnie sings with him.

“Yes sir, yes,sir, three bags full. One for my master, One for the dame.” Zemo pulls out a bag of the same candy he had offered them, Turkish Delight.

“One for the little girl who lives down the lane.” He sets up a table and pours out the candy.

“Turkish Delight. It was always my son’s favorite.”

Winnie kneels down so she’s at the kids level.

“My old friend Donya passed away. Did you know her?”

“Yes.”

“I would like to pay my last respects. Do you know where her funeral will be?”

Zemo motions for the child to whisper to him the location. She whispers then turns towards him again.

“Is there something else?” He asks.

“Your wife is pretty.” She points towards Winnie.

Winnie smiles, keeping up the appearance.

Sam comes down and stands by Bucky.

“It’s starting to feel like a dead end.”

“The hell are they doing?”

“Do you see these men there?” Zemo asks the child softly.

“Zemo, darling.” Winnie adds putting a hand on his shoulder.

“They are very bad, not to be trusted.” Zemo adds to the children. “Donya is our little secret, okay.”

Zemo and Winnie walk back to the two.

“Cute kids.”

“Ass.”

“Darling, there’s children present.”

“I don’t like them, together.” Bucky breaks the silence.

“I know Buck. I know.”

“Well I got nothing. No one is talking about Donya.”

“Yeah, it’s because Karli is the only one fighting for them.”

Winnie turns to Zemo.

“And she’s not wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“For five years,people have been welcomed into countries that have kept them out using barbed wire. There were houses and jobs. Folks were happy to have people around to help them rebuild. It wasn’t just one community coming together. It was the entire world coming together. And then boom. Just like that, it goes right back to the way it used to be. To them at least Karli is doing something.”

“You really think her ends justify her means. Then she’s no different than him, or anybody else we’ve fought.

“She’s different. She’s not motivated by the same things.”

Zemo is making cherry blossom tea and brings it over.

“That little girl. What’d she tell you?”

“The funeral is this afternoon.”

“You know the Dora’s coming for you any minute.In fact they are probably lurking outside right now.Keep talking.”

“Leaving you to turn on me, once we get to Karli. I prefer to keep my leverage.”

Bucky stands up and walks over to him. He grabs the tea pot and throws it against the wall.

“You wanna see what someone can do with leverage.”

“Take it easy, don’t engage him. He’s just going to extort you and do that stupid little head tilt thing.”

Zemo straightens.

“Let me make a call.”

“Do you want some cherry blossom tea?

“No you go ahead.”

Zemo turns towards Winnie.

“Uh sure, I’d love some.”

Once Bucky leaves the room Winnie looks at Zemo.

“It’s rude to stare.”

“Infuriating Bucky isn’t going to help you in the long run.”

“You care a lot for him. Pity.”

“Why?”

“Because he will always throw himself into the fight. He will never settle down, or help himself, because not so deep down, he knows he’ll never lose the Winter Soldier side. You saw how easily he went back into it.He believes that he’s not worth the effort.What is that they say about old habits. Ah, they die hard.”

“Pissing me off isn’t helpful to you, either.”

“Why does the truth anger you so?”

“Because I believe that Buck is stronger than everything he’s been through.”

“You have great expectations for James.”

“I do.”

“You think he is worth the effort.”

“Yes.”

“So tell him.”

“Why would I trust you? Two seconds ago you were being a dick. Now I’m supposed to take your relationship advice.”

“So you do want a relationship with him.”

“I’m not talking to you, anymore.”

“How sweet the silence will be.” Zemo gives her a cup of tea.

“Fuck you.”

“Karli Morgenthau is too dangerous for you guys to be pulling this shit.” John and Lemar jog up to where the four are.

“What happened to tracking John?” Sam asks Winnie.

“Someone must have disabled it, it was working before.”

“Ah! How’d you find us now?”

“Come on. You really think two Avengers can walk around Latvia without drawing attention?”

“No more keeping us in the dark.”

“It was nice while it lasted.” Winnie adds to Sam.

“And you..” John walks up to Winnie,” Stop messing with my suit and my shield.”

“Doesn’t feel too good to get tracked by your own stuff, huh.”

“You are interfering with the United States Government.”

“What are you gonna do, kill me.”

“Don’t.” Bucky grabs Winnie’s arm and pulls her back.

“You could start by telling us why you broke him out of prison.”

“He did that himself, technically.”

“This better be an unbelievable explanation.”

“Take it easy before it gets weird.”

“Too late.”

“I know where Karli is.”

“Well, where?” John stops Zemo with a hand on his chest.

“All we know is, it’s a memorial. So we’re going to intercept her there.”

“I still don’t like the idea that we’re crashing a memorial.” Winnie adds.

“That means civilians. High risk of casualties.” Lemar adds.

“Which means we need discretion, you two aren’t exactly subtle.” Winnie gestures between John and Lemar.

“All right, we’ll move in fast. Take her by surprise.” John says.

“Did he not hear me?” Winnie asks outloud.

“I want to talk to her alone.” Sam nods at Winnie.

“I’m not losing her again.”

“You won’t, if you let Sam talk to her. This is his bread and butter.”

“Look the person closest to her died, she’s vulnerable. Now is the best time to reason with her.”

“No wait stop! Hold on! I think we’re way past reasoning with her,unless you forgot that she blew up a building with people still in it.”

“So did Zemo, and he’s here.”

“Winifred, if you really lov…” Zemo starts and is muffled by Winnie’s hand.

“Sam if you walk in there cold, she could kill you.” Lemar reasons with Sam.

“If I go in hot and the op goes wrong, more people will die.”

“You’ll let him do this. You’re gonna let your partner walk into a room with a Super Soldier alone.”

“He’s dealt with worse, and he’s not my partner.”

“I used to counsel soldiers dealing with trauma, okay. This is in my wheelhouse, like Winnie said.”

“I know. And I know those soldiers, which is why I know this a bad idea.”

“Wait John, if he can talk her down, it might be worth a try.” Lemar reasons with John.

“We’ll deal with you later.” John says to Zemo.

“I’m sure it will come to an agreeable conclusion. My associate is just up ahead.”

Zemo leads the way to the small girl he was talking to earlier.

“Hello my friend.” Zemo gives her money,” This is for your family. Can you show us the way?”

The child motions for Zemo and the group to follow her.

“What the hell?”

“Language.” Winnie warns. “ Come on John, there’s a kid.”

The child leads them to the building.

“Karli is in there.”

“All right.” Sam goes in alone.

Zemo is handcuffed to a pipe.

“Hey, you got ten minutes.

“Really?”

“Then we’re doing things my way.”

“Aggressive.” Zemo comments. “ But I get it.”

“John, you okay?” Winnie asks as she watches him begin to pace.

“No, I’m not okay. I wasn’t expecting to see Sam and Bucky, two avengers, an ex member of Shield, and a terrorist that bombed the UN.”

“Okay, and neither did I when Bucky and I came out here. But we’ve done a pretty good job so far.”

“A pretty good job? Really?”

“Yeah, actually with less resources than you have.”

John waits and readjusts his cowl across his nose.

“John.”

“Whatever it is Winnie, I’m not in the mood.”

“I’m not trying to antagonize you, but you really don’t seem okay. Take a few breaths. Sam’s a good man and he knows how these things go.”

Bucky looks up watching Winnie.

“I also know that you want to be a good man. You want to be the best Captain America, you can. And to do that you need a clear head, and some good people around, and a big ass heart.”

“A big ass heart isn’t going to help.”

“I think it helped Steve.”

“Well I’m not Steve.”

“I know. No one is asking you to be Steve, John.”

“She’s right.” Zemo adds.

“Good call, the terrorist agrees with you, Winnie.”

“I’m trying to genuinely help you. Don’t be a dick.”

“You could have helped more by joining us. That tracker you put on my shield is still being dissected. Your modifications on old shield tech is incredible.”

“Governments have agendas and blind spots. I’m not getting back in just to be told it’s happening again.”

“So what’s next then, for you?” John asks.

“I don’t know, but I’m sticking with Sam and Buck until the end of the line.”

“Don’t ever say that again!” Bucky snaps.

Winnie recoils hurt from his words and the silence grows.

She looks over when John begins pacing and talking to himself.

“Nope No, this is a bad plan.”

“It hasn’t been ten minutes. Just sit tight.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t patronize me.”

“He knows what he’s doing.”

“I’m going in.” John walks up to Bucky. He stops John.

“This is all real easy for you, isn’t it? All that serum runnin through your veins. Barnes, your partner needs backup in there.”

“Lemar.” Winnie nudges him and gestures to John,” Has he always been this intense?”

“He’s got a lot on his plate.”

“Lemar no bullshitting me, is John okay?”

“Yeah, he’ll be okay.”

“Care to make a wager?”

“Sure. what’s the bet?”

“If John snaps,you owe me, Bucky and Sam:Juicy Lucys, fries and malts once we’re stateside.”

“If he doesn’t, you owe us a steak dinner. The works.”

“Deal.” Winnie puts out her hand for Lemar.

“Deal.” Lemar shakes her hand.

“What about me?” Zemo asks.

“Malts aren’t for terrorists.” Winnie answers.

“Neither are steak dinners.”

“Karli Morgenthau, you’re under arrest.” John calls out.

“This is what that was.”

“No, wait.”

“Tricking me until help came.”

“We had enough time to talk.”

“Nazi”

“Why don’t you.”

Karli shoves John and the shield against the table.

Winnie helps John back up, he shoves off of her.

Bucky goes after Karli as does Lamar.

Sam helps Winnie up and the two run through trying to find Karli.

“Shit.”

“I lost her.”

“So did we, and John’s a dick.”

“This place is a maze.”

“Pretty smart move though. We need to find Karli before John or Zemo do.”

Zemo finds Karli and shoots at her following her through the pipe room. He shoots twice more. To avoid him, Karli vaults over a table, her pouch of the serum vials falling to the floor with her. The blue vials litter the floor. Karli starts to crawl towards it but Zemo shoots once more. She finds cover behind the table.

“Is this what I think it is.” Zemo asks. He picks one up.

“No no no.” Karli starts.

He throws it to the ground, the glass vial shattering. Zemo stomps on them. Karli runs out seeing that Zemo is busy. The shield flies out of the air and knocks him out.

Sam, Bucky and Winnie run in to see John.

“You found Zemo, good.” Winnie says.

“What did we miss?”

Back in Zemo’s home he rests on the couch with a wash cloth on his head.

“Anything new from Sharon.”

“No, just keep an eye on John.”

“Were you ever offered it?” Zemo asks Sam.

“What?”

“The serum.”

“No.”

“If you had been, hypothetically, that is, would you have taken it?”

“No.”

“No hesitation. That’s impressive.”

“Sam, you can’t hold out hope for Karli. No matter what you saw in her, she’s gone. And we cannot allow that she and her acolytes become yet another faction of gods amongst real people. Super soldiers cannot be allowed to exist.”

“Isn’t that how gods talk?”

“And if that’s how you feel, what about Bucky.”

“He never chose anything.” Winnie asks.

Sam takes Zemo’s silence for a chance to continue.

“Blood isn’t always the solution.”

Bucky comes back in.

“Somethings not right about Walker.”

“Clocked that a mile away. I made a bet with Lemar.”

“ What kind of bet?”

“I think John is unstable. He’s gonna snap at someone. And when he does we get cheeseburgers and malts.”

“You can’t make a bet like that. It’s wrong.”

“Lemar knows John better than I do. And he has faith in John. That should make us feel a little better.”

“What does he get if John doesn’t crack?”

“Him and John get a steak dinner.”

“Steak dinner vs cheese burgers, the classic American battle.” Zemo adds.

“Well get ready to eat a burger, Sam, I know a crazy when I see one. Because I am crazy.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

“Shouldn’t have given him the shield.”

“I didn’t give it.”

“Well Steve definitely didn't.”

“All right. That’s it. Let’s go. I’m now ordering you to turn him over.”

“Hey, slow your roll.”

“Shield or no shield, the only thing here you’re running is your mouth. Now I have Katli and you overstepped. He’s actually proven himself useful today. We’re going to need all hands on deck for whatever’s comin’ next.”

“How do you want the rest of this conversation to go, huh. Should I put down the shield, make it fair?”

“Malts here we come.” Winnie adds sending a smirk over to Lemar.

John puts down the shield and a woman dressed in crimson, and gold armor throws a spear.

“Woah.” Winnie looks from the woman, to Sam, to Bucky as if to ask if they saw that too.

More women in armor with spears come into the room.

“Are they the Dora Milaje?” Winnie asks Bucky.

He nods.

The lead woman speaks to Bucky in a language Winnie has never heard before. Even she knew that whatever they were here for wouldn’t end well for Zemo.

“Release him to us now.” The woman says.

“Hi, John Walker, Captain America.” John introduces himself. “Well let’s put down the pointy sticks and we can talk this though huh. “

“Now he wants peace.” Winnie mocks.

“Not the time.” Sam says shaking his head. “John, take it easy, You might want to fight Bucky before you tangle with the Dora Milaje.”

“They don’t have jurisdiction here.”

“The Dora Milaje have jurisdiction wherever the Dora Milaje find themselves to be.”

“Okay. Look I think we got off on the wrong foot.” John claps her on the shoulder.

The woman looks at John’s arm and then him. She hits him with a spear multiple times then kicks him away, hitting the spear in the wall and back to the ground. He uses the shield to deflect a spear aiming for him and continues fighting the women.

Zemo continues drinking his cocktail.

“We should do something.”

“Yeah.” Winnie pulls out a bag of popcorn from her backpack. She offers some to Sam. He takes a handful.

“Looking strong, John.”

“Bucky.” Sam warns.

“So the Dora Milaje is the Wakandan army?” Winnie asks the two guys as they watch the fight.

Bucky nods.

“The spears look beautifully made.”

“Ayo.” Bucky grabs the spear in the hands of one woman. “ Let’s talk about this.”

Sam and Bucky enter the struggle.

“ Guys!” Winnie yells.

“We’re a little busy!” Sam yells back to Winnie.

Winnie chases Zemo, but he gets the door and locks it.

“You’re a rat! You know that!” Winnie is banging on the door trying to break it.

Ayo taps Bucky’s arm in a few places and it falls off. She walks off towards where Zemo locked the door.

“He’s gone. Leave it.” She tells another warrior holding the shield.

“Did you know they could do that?” Sam asks.

“No.” Bucky puts back on his arm and rotates it. The vibranium shifts and hums as it moves back to place.

“You all right, man.” Lemar asks helping John up.

“They weren’t even super soldiers.” John gets up.

“I can’t believe he pulled an El Chapo.”

“I can, come on.”

“She said what? Hold on Hold on, I know. Listen pack an overnight bag and take the boys.”

“What happened?”

“Karli called Sarah. She threatened my nephews.” Sam turns back to his phone,”Okay. Go somewhere safe. Only pay in cash. All right? Let me know when you get there.”

“Damn.” Winnie’s expression grows serious. “ She can’t keep this up.”

“I know. I love you. I’ll never let anything happen to these boys.Okay, bye.”

“Karli wants to meet. She left a contact number. She said just me and Winnie.”

“Me?” Winnie asks. “ Why?”

“I didn’t ask.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“Karli!” Sam yells out.

Winnie walks with him, rocket boots and other weapons up her sleeves ready.

Bucky follows.

“You called my sister.That’s how we’re gonna play this.”

“I would never hurt her. I wanted to understand you better. I see you two didn’t come alone.”

“You have to end this now.”

“Karli there’s nothing good that can come from this. Just stop this from escalating. Just stop.” Winnie says.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You don’t have to hurt anyone.”

“Sam, you’re just a tool in the regimes. I want to destroy. You’re not hiding behind a shield. If I were to kill you it’d be meaningless. I was going to ask you to join me.And you, Winnie, you’re not a tool, you’re a free agent. You could join us. I saw the gadgets the first time we fought. Also you were the closest to downloading all of our mugshots before we started erasing our trail. We could use you.”

“I can’t do that Karli.” Winnie shakes her head.

“Hey Sam,” Sharon’s voice says through Sam’s gear. “ Looks like new Cap is moving. Looks like he found them or maybe they found him.”

“It’s Walker.”

Sam and Bucky jump down colliding with Karli.

“ I’ll send you the location. Go!”

Bucky runs off in search of John.

Winnie kicks on her rocket boots and takes a running leap off the building following Sam.

Sam comes in through the ceiling, Winnie follows through the large hole.

He and Winnie watch as John bends a metal pipe.

“What’d you do?

“They’ve got Lemar.”

Sam and Winnie follow John.

Two super soldiers drop down from the ceiling. One takes on Sam, the other John.

John tosses the shield and hits one in the back and Sam lets his wings take the action.

“What’s with all the knives?”

“Guns are hard to get in Europe. Knives are stylish.” Winnie shoots one in the leg.

Bucky runs in and catches a knife.

Sam now has two super soldiers on him.

Bucky punches one

“You’re welcome.”

An electrified whip hits the other one and knocks them out.

“Sup.” Winnie nods.

Karli, armed with a knife, sees her moment to kill John. She takes it and then is grappled by Lemar dropping her to the ground. They get up and Karli punches him into a pillar in the middle of the room.

John goes over to Lemar.

“Hey. Hey. Hey.” John pats his face. “Lemar. Lemar. Lemar.”

“Shit.” Winnie says softly.

The Flag smashers and Karli flee.

Sam, Bucky, Winnie run after Karlie.

John jumps out of a window and slams onto the street below.

“Where is she?!?” John yells running after the one of the flag smashers.

John knocks the man down beside cement stairs and hits him with the shield. People begin to watch.

“It wasn’t me.” The man pleads. “It wasn’t me!”

John lifts his shield and brings it down several times. Onlookers take videos and scream.

Winnie leans her head on Bucky’s shoulder closing her eyes, away from what just took place in broad daylight, in front of people.

“He snapped.” Winnie whispers with tears in her eyes.

#bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes #tfatws

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artificiallyimplantedmemories · 3 years

Text

[ ooc: ep 4 liveblog & opinions under the cut! this one got long winded because I had a lot that I was thinking about (and it took me twice the length of the episode to actually watch through it because I kept pausing to type oops) ]

yeeeesh that’s one way to start. thank you for letting bucky cry.

but also the look of pride on her face when she says “you are free” they’ve been working so hard and she’s so happy with the progress bucky has made ;_;

and now she’s so betrayed :(

but I’m also so glad Bucky learned xhosa that’s super important! <3 part of decolonization of the past involves respecting and learning and propagating languages and cultures that have been trodden over. Wakanda has been something of a safe place in that regard, and are now doing the outreach to help their continent and the world, but it takes the world of people within the majority putting in the effort and learning and embracing those cultures and languages (without appropriation, which I know is a fine line to walk sometimes) in order to really make progress. once it is no longer alien, it is also no longer scary, and can be held in proper esteem.

“sweet of you” shut your mouth Zemo xD

“she’s just a kid” thank you for your compassion Sam. and while she’s an extremist, I’m not sure whether Karli counts as a supremacist or just a terrorist? maybe she counts as genocidal if she’s truly trying to restore things to Blip conditions but it’s kind of unclear.

“the serum never corrupted Steve” “touché” YO EVEN HE ADMITS IT

Sam’s understanding of cultural habits (and there are many overlaps between various cultures and the ways they mourn) is such an asset here, and I’m glad that they’re pulling a contrast between the tech-driven, cold, calculating predictions made by certain people and organizations in other parts of Marvel and the general sort of soulful and instinctive approach here

Turkish delight. Excuse me but Narnia cemented the idea in so many people’s heads that it is this magical thing but it’s like superglue in your mouth. It is not irresistible, Zemo.

Legislation and social change as a result of violent action is nothing new. Every peaceful protest has been backed up by some kind of harm, whether it be economic, like a boycott, or physical, either damage to property or lives. I think instinctively people understand this, but it’s good to see it put in the spotlight.

Sam is “stranger danger” to these kids :/

“I know what happens when people say they’re going to help out... nothing.” Ouch.

The way Sam’s gaze falls at that too, because he knows theoretically that a lot of these injustices are happening and can empathize, but practically hearing it hurts. He doesn’t like not being trusted either, but I think he can probably understand why.

Zemo playing that psychology game! Kids love food and the idea that he must be a good person just for having a kid is dumb as hell but something that kids would gravitate towards. Smart man. Doubly smart for not telling them, Nat would approve if she didn’t hate him :P

Sam de-escalating is gonna be a trend I can just see it.

Cherry blossom tea? Interesting choice.

SHARON HI

Nat vc: gosh it’s nice to see someone competent around here.

ooooh they’re really reinforcing the idea of Captain America being a figurehead that inspires people

“heroes these days don’t have the luxury of keeping their hands clean” yeah well it’s because Steve had people like Bucky and Nat do do his dirty work, but sure

“all the people history just left out” OW

okay first of all Sam being the one who is insisting on reasoning with them because he knows what it’s like to come from an oppressed people !!! he knows grief and trauma !!! he can do this !!!!! I just know Walker is gonna fuck it up for them :P

second, Walker trying to emotionally manipulate Bucky? it’s a testament to how far he’s come that he doesn’t punch the guy immediately lol

Hoskins being the voice of reason as a foil for Walker again what?! this version of Lamar isn’t nearly as terrible as I expected.

Zemo calling that itty bitty girl his associate xD He really does understand the people here though... aaaand he’s getting handcuffed. Totally didn’t see that coming (he’ll probably break free anyway)

The conversation between Karli & Sam ;_;

“you’re either brilliant or hopelessly optimistic” “por quo no los dos.gif”

Walker trying to guilt Bucky again god he’s so dumb. I appreciate the fact that he’s ruthless but he’s so narrow minded in how he approaches problems. oh no I have an issue let’s punch it until it dies! come on man.

Karli is so heartbreakingly naive and that’s becoming more and more obvious. I love Sam opening her up like this wow.

WALKER FUCKING IT UP AS ALWAYS

and the cuffs empty WHAT DID I TELL YOU

god we were getting somewhere ;____;

oh good just what we need, serum in Walker’s hands. he was already awful he doesn’t need to be more awful gdi

“we separate them and then we kill Captain America” ...yes, we’re listening xD

I know crazy because I am crazy... oh boy we got some internalized stuff, but let’s play it off

still a little blame game going in terms of where the shield ended up I see

THE DORA MILAJE ARE HERE -swoon-

pOINTY STICKS I cackled oh boy he gonna get his ass WHOOPED

Sam is enjoying the hell out of this

Zemo watching and drinking

“Looking strong, John!” “Bucky”

oooh dear they tangling and Zemo’s getting away.

your arm’s off! no it’s not

WAIT WHAT DID AYO SAY BEFORE SHE SAID JAMES

they all got their asses kicked ah well. also the look on Walker’s face says he gonna serum himself up, the lil fucker. oh no someone’s better than you how will your ego ever survive.

a lil Battlestar logo!!! shut up that’s cute. they’re really making him halfway likeable here.

“power just makes a person more of themselves”

ohhhh okay time to unlock Walker’s traumatic backstory. at least he feels bad about the things he did. at least he knows that those medals of honor are covered in blood. people are at least partly made by their circumstances, and I wonder what he was like before the war. the only indication we have of it is him being a football star, and while I may not have had the best track record with those in my youth, that doesn’t mean there aren’t decent ones out there...

Sarah’s “my world doesn’t matter to America, so why should I care about its mascot?” Oh, we’re speaking to the disenfranchisement of marginalized people hardcore today okay. if anyone’s gotten this far in my overly long commentary I want you to know that this is the realest alright? it’s hard to be proud of a country and its symbols when it doesn’t do right by you, when the majority doesn’t do right by you. am I glad I was born here? sure. are there worse places to be? sure. am I proud to be an american? oof, man, don’t ask me that.

Karli is not pulling her punches, she’s threatening the whole fam. Sam isn’t gonna like that... He sounds like he’s trying to suppress panic instead of being angry on the phone call with Sarah. I think he understands what Karli is trying to do, even though he hates how. And he’s worried, because he’s always gonna be worried. Poor guy. And there’s the confrontation.

Sharon got their backs!

Oof, seeing the gun with the shield.

Gunshot, run, oh, listening, he’s already got the serum, maybe? Given how deeply that shield is embedded in the wall I’m gonna say yes. YUP I WAS RIGHT.

Something about the water dripping and Lemar’s face makes me think he may have been waterboarded at some point :( but maybe he’s just in a lot of pain.

THE KNIFE CATCH. YES YES YES. THE KNIFE FLIP. Nat is so hearteyes.

Ooh, we gotta upgrade that wingpack with Stark repulsors pls go Sam go

oh no. Lemar. fuck. FUCK.

oh good now you’ve done it. killing a guy as Captain America. fuck.

the blood on the shield as the last shot! ~cinematography~

hoooo I’m chilled. I knew something along these lines was coming but oof.

#onyx watches fatws #out of the red;#fatws spoilers #cw: death #cw: blood #cw: racism #cw: ptsd #cw: torture

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lokispettigerr · 5 years

Text

Painting the Wind: Jotun!Loki x Female!Reader SMUT (NSFW)

Requested by @rougepetale. I killed three Bilgesnipe with one arrow though because I decided to follow out two more requests-- a Jotun!Loki fic and a dark fic. This is book material and I am proud.

***It is Pet Tiger Tuesdays!!!! Get stoked!

Summary: Reader drives men, and women, wild with just her scent. One evening, she attends her friend’s art viewing at a studio. When Loki catches her scent she runs, spurred on by the dangerous lust that he radiates.

Word Count: 4096

Warning: Sex Pollen, Dom Loki, Non-Con

A/N: So, remember that Mushroom Muse Stew I posted about a while back? Maybe last week, well it pops up again here. **Not my image

Beauty, attraction, and irresistibility is a blessing and a curse.

When I was younger, I was raised by monsters who injected their precious serum into my blood year after year after year. Each injection would make me the person I am today, the beast I have become. But do you ever wonder who the true monster is? The beast that was either born into its circumstances or forced into them, or the people or superhuman entity that made them the way they are.

As I look in the mirror now at my reflection I don’t look much a beast. I have doe eyes, bright and big. My lashes make shadows dance upon my cheeks. My lips are full and my skin glows inhumanly. I have womanly curves and hair that shines even on a cloudy day.

If you want to know the truth, how I really feel about all this talk of monsters and beasts. I think that both parties are at fault. The people who raised me are at fault for sure for forcing this path upon me, but I too am at fault. You gasp? You are shocked? You don’t know me. There are times when I enjoy the way people are uncontrollably aroused towards me. I enjoy knowing that I am constantly in control because they would do anything to be with me, if even for a few moments. You see, there is a part of me that is very much like the monsters who raised me. I am greedy. I was never given love or affection and no matter how much I get now, even an infinite amount… It would never be enough. There is something in me insidious and wrong.

I turned from my reflection just as my open hand turned to a fist wanting to smash the shiny glass into pieces. What good would that do me?

I left the house, my heels clicking down the sidewalk outside of the apartment building. The wind was beginning to pick up and the sun kept passing behind giant, ominous looking clouds. I kept my head down shielding my eyes against the wind as my hair fanned out, causing a trail of pheromones to sway luxuriously out behind me.

Everywhere I went I painted the tail of the wind with my intoxicating scent. Of course, this wasn’t always safe, but I had been trained by the monstrous, mad scientists that raised me. I was unbelievably strong and was meant to be a breeding *whore* to create super soldiers.

I was an experiment gone wrong. All of my sisters were too. All of us failed. It was something I always found laughable.

We were all deemed infertile. The pheromones they so ruthlessly injected us with made us alluring, but ironically it nuked our reproductive organs. No sweet bundle of baby joys would ever be a product of me, and in truth, I liked it better that way. I can imagine that with my background I would be a horrifying parent.

I essentially was a super-soldier. I could practically strangle a man with my bare hands within moments. I could hit someone on their shoulder hard enough that their head would come clean off. When I was a kid, and not very strong I would walk past dandelions doing the same thing. Hitting them hard enough for the flower head to pop right off, all while I ran along wearing a white dress, bows in my hair musical laughter pouring from my lips. Innocence turned to corruption-- it has always been there.

My text notification chirped and I pulled the phone out of my pocket with a quick glance at the screen. I was meeting Willow at her art showing tonight. I had promised and I was going to come through for her. Being around a group of people like that always made me antsy, all of them would be horny and wanting to grab at me being in close proximity but luckily, Willow mentioned there was an open bar. When I was able to get a little buzz, the anxiety from the surrounding horn dogs usually lessened and I could loosen up, even give them a little of what they wanted.

I turned the corner and approached the art studio building, “Montross Art Studios” a golden wire looking sign read. It swayed back and forth in the wind as the breeze began to pick up. I could only hope that when I opened the door, the wind would not blow my scent within the art studio. In close quarters it moved slowly, but if the wind stirred the air it would be a scent spread like wildfire.

I was lucky. The wind had stopped long enough for me to get inside the studio. The door creaked loudly on its hinges, but the studio was full of laughter and chatter, blues music playing over the speakers.

I scanned the sea of faces looking for Willow’s dark bob and big brown eyes. She was around somewhere, I could sense it. I knew I would run into her eventually and my nerves were already jumping and on highwire so I decided to go to the bar and grab a drink.

A handsome man stood up against the bar, his posture excuding cockyness and confidence-- of course, if I looked like him I would do the same thing. His hair was shockingly black and his eyes were bright green. He was leaning over the counter of the bar talking in an erotic purr at the bartender who would laugh intermittently while he took a clean wipe towel and rubbed different glasses, making them have a shine.

He took a sip of a green drink and placed the cup on the bar to move a strand of his black hair behind his ear, exposing his sharp jawline. I was usually not nervous when approaching any sex, but this man at the counter made me feel uneasy. I weighed my options, continue to feel anxious and on edge throughout the art gathering or face one man for a few moments, order a drink, and feel the calm settle over my brain like a security blanket. The choice was easy, a few minutes of discomfort was much easier than discomfort the remainder of the night.

I made sure to walk as smoothly as I could, so as not to stir the air. When I made it to the bar I kept my distance from the attractive man who oozed danger all about him.

“Hi there,” I paused while I looked for the bartender's name tag, it read, “Joe?”. I giggled, “ You aren’t sure if Joe is your name?”

He shot me a shy smile back, “If I made a beautiful woman like you laugh then I have succeeded. For you, I’ll be whoever you want me to be. What’ll you have?”

“Just a martini please.” I glanced from the side of my eye at the dark-haired man standing beside me. I could feel his piercing gaze. “Joe, she was mistaken, she will have what I am having.”

I looked at him, wide-eyed, my eyebrows going up. Joe seemed confused, “She said she would like a marti--”

The man standing beside me cut him off, his eyes boring through Joe and into the wall, “Absinthe, Joe. Get the lady Absinthe.”

Joe’s face went blank and he immediately began to pour Absinthe. A chill went down my spine, I had never seen someone command something with such force. I quickly began to rethink the drink. Screw this, I could be uncomfortable the rest of the night.

Once the bartender had finished preparing the Absinthe he lit the sugar cube on fire. I could not deny the color of the Absinthe combined with the bright burning flame was beautiful. I smiled to myself enraptured by the fire. For a moment I felt alone in the room, the fire holding my attention. It was so beautiful.

“Your complexion is glowing.” The twilight satin voice brought my thoughts back to the current situation.

I looked away from the flame, “Just a trick of the light, everyone looks captivating against the allure of firelight.”

The man was silent as he continued to watch me, his eyes half-lidded.

“I think not,” he whispered, “you’re special…”

I feigned ignorance, after all he was just feeling the average effects of being too close to me. “I don’t know what you are talking about.” I wanted to take a sip of the absinthe, something to keep my mouth busy so I no longer felt the need to carry on this conversation.

Just then, the door to the studio opened and a gust of wind blew in stirring the air around me, making my hair twirl along my back and shoulders. The flame above the absinthe blew out. Shit!

It was as if time stilled, the man beside me went rigid-- his body freezing, all except for his nostrils which flared dramatically, taking in my scent. His eyes fluttered closed and his head reclined slightly back. Strangely, blue lines were creeping up his neck, and his skin began to darken.

My eyes searched the crowd, Did anyone else see this?

His eyes shot open, burning and completely red, “What were you saying?”

I had to get out! “Uh, gotta go!” I turned to leave, but his fingers quickly closed around my arm. “Not so fast,” he warned. He was strong, superhuman strong. I should have easily been able to break his hold on me but his grasp was like chains of solid iron.

Just then Willow approached. The mysterious man released my arm, but not before Willow saw him holding it.

“What’s going on here, Loki?” She asked, a concerned look on her face.

I answered instead. “I’m so sorry Willow, I got a call. I’ll try to see if I can make it next time.” I ducked my head not wanting her to see the lie.

Her face fell, disappointment covering it, “Well, okay, if you have to go, I understand.”

I began to walk away, towards the door, towards freedom, “I’ll call you!” I called out over my shoulder and the door slammed behind me. I never looked back to see what the man was doing or if he was watching me, but every fiber of me felt like it was the sugar cube still sitting on the absinthe, on fire, burning brightly-- a flame that would never extinguish. I knew he was watching me as I walked away.

Usually, I don’t have this kind of reaction, but my body screamed at me to get away as fast as I could. It was as if my brain knew, from all the strength and training that I had, even I could not hold my own against the man in the art studio-- Loki was it? What an odd name. I shoved my arms, hurriedly into my cloak and quickly flipped up the hood. I carried around a thin cloak oftentimes, it helped keep my pheromones in one place and not billowing all about-- plus it looked kinda cool.

With each step I took, my anxiety increased. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being followed. I sped up my pace only to hear what sounded like footsteps approaching at the same speed as my own. I glanced back, the wind tugging ruthlessly at my hood. No one was there. It was only me, the echo of my footsteps. I was alone and so close to home. I would be safe soon.

My heart was racing and my blood was pumping, making a whooshing sound that filled my ears and pounded around my head. Every few moments I would glance back only to see an empty sidewalk and a few dried leaves skirt by, pushed on by the wind.

Dusk had settled, not doing anything to help my nerves, and street lamps flickered to life. The harsh light pooled down at the sidewalk interrupting any chances I had at using my night vision. I would try to peer out past the bright lights towards the edge of the trees or across the sidewalk from where I loped, but all I could see were shadows with hunger in their eyes and saliva dripping from their teeth. None of it was real, my fear was making it all up. My imagination was running wild and I knew that as soon as I made it back home and my locks were in place everything would be right in the world.

Wait… There, what was that? Footsteps not matching my own approaching from behind, my breath caught in my throat and I opened my mouth in case I needed all the air possible for a scream. I was so close, so close to home-- just around the corner and I could rush up the steps, past the lonely, naked lady fountain, past the gardenias making the night smell aromatic, past the garden bed, past the empty swing that often rocked back and forth in the cool night air as it creaked out a forlorn tune, all the way up seven steps to the threshold of my *home*.

I opened the old iron gate, tossing it shut behind me without ever looking back. My hood flew off in my hurry to get inside and I skipped up the steps taking two at a time. The keys were already in my hand and I forced them into the latch turning while I simultaneously twisted the knob.

The smell of the sage I had burnt early trickled out. I inhaled deeply, the sigh that left my parted lips was one of triumph. I had made it. I shrugged out of my cloak, exposing the skin on my shoulders. I tossed the keys towards the stand near the door and they landed with a sharp clack. The house was dark, but it didn’t matter. I let the darkness of my home envelop me like a warm blanket. I teased my arm along the wall feeling towards the light switch, bracing myself for the moment the lights would come on when I heard a low rumble as someone across from me cleared their throat-- a growl from a hunter.

Panic choked me, my eyes grew wide with fear and I could acutely see myself from somewhere else in the room. I stood, frozen with terror, unable to move.

“You’re wondering how I came to be here. How I knew this humble abode was yours.” Loki’s sultry voice purred at me from the shadows, just above a whisper. “The fountain out front is a nice touch.” He stalked towards me, the shadows sliding away from him to expose his predatory form. The blue tendrils that had begun to crawl up his skin in the art studio had taken full effect. His skin was now a deep blue hue with exotic markings and his eyes were a violent red. They glowed and cut through the darkness. Had he been bitten by some ghastly bug that had bestowed this monstrous, yet alluring form upon him?

Suddenly, my brain jump-started. I pushed away from the wall, running down the hallway and towards the kitchen. I needed a weapon! Anything.

It was no use! Somehow the devil named, “Loki” was there-- it was as if he appeared from thin air.

“There is no use in fighting it. You will soon tire, and I will not soon grow bored.” He glanced at me, his eyes glowing feverishly.

I reached for a large knife, serrated and as long as my forearm. *This would do the trick*, I thought, right before it turned into a snake within my grasp. I yelped dropping it before running off again towards the dining room. Had something been slipped into my drink to make me have delusions?

I stopped, my back against the wall, my shoulder blades hurting. My chest rose and fell as I heaved. Loki walked, smooth as a water dancer, into the dining room. His chin was tilted down and a deranged smile was on his lips. He was beautiful-- there was no denying it.

When he reached the rug under the table, I pushed off the wall, my palms lifting and shoving the solid oak table towards Loki.

But with a simple wave of his hand, it stopped in thin air, never touching him. He moved his hand to the side as if swatting at a lazy fly and it smashed against the wall next to me. How? How was he doing this?

He laughed and I wanted to smile in response, I would do anything to hear that sultry laughter again. “You are clever. I like that about you,” he said as he moved towards me. I stayed against the wall. Clearly, running was useless. I clenched my jaw and narrowed my eyes.

“Ooo-- you plan to fight me then?” his eyes went up and down my body, lingering on my hips and my heaving, sweat glistening breasts. “How,” he paused a smile spreading to his face again, “...admirable.”

He stopped inches from me and part of me wanted to reach out to touch the lines etched on his skin. Were they scars? Had they ever caused him pain? I bit my lip.

“I wouldn’t,” he warned, his voice causing goosebumps to race across my skin and my nipples to tighten.

I lifted my hand, reeling it back to hit him with all of my strength. It would stun him, for sure. Anything I could do to get out of this situation.

Too quick, and he saw it coming. My wrist hitting his hand made a loud smacking sound and Loki laughed as if he was amused by my animosity.

“You are a feral thing aren’t you?”

I grunted, getting ready to slam my forehead against his. He managed to see that one too! His other hand went to my throat, his cool fingers closing around my windpipe.

He was too strong-- it was incredible. His power was immense.

Loki leaned towards me, his fingers sliding up my throat to push my jawline. I tried to withstand him, but at last, I submitted. I turned my head to the side and he slid his pointed nose up my neck, inhaling deeply.

“I can’t possibly help myself,” Loki said aloud, though more to himself than to me.

“Any reservations, my delightful pet?” he asked, polite as ever, as if he wasn’t holding me against my will.

“Yes,” I spat, “Go fuck yourse--”.

Loki’s finger went to my lips, shushing me. “My, my, what a foul mouth you have.”

Stupidly, I opened my mouth, taking his finger between my teeth as I bit down. Loki didn’t flinch, instead, he chuckled and removed his now slick finger from my mouth. Though he was smiling, I could feel dark rage rolling from him in waves. “Watch me,” he commanded, and compelled, I couldn’t look away from him.

His hand slid down to the hem of my dress, pushed past it and pulled gently at my thong, exposing my weeping, wet opening. His masterful fingers plunged within me forcefully, and I cried out in pleasure and in surprise.

“Ohoho, you like that don’t you? You have wanted this since you first laid eyes on me. Haven’t you?” Loki asked.

I looked away from him, not wanting to admit what I had in truth felt from the beginning. I wasn’t ready to admit it.

“Answer me!” he growled as he curled his fingers within and without faster, his thumb rubbing around my aching clit in tight circles.

The more he rubbed his finger pads upon the spongy tissue of my g-spot, the more I lost the ability to speak-- to form coherent thoughts. I moaned in response.

“Very well, Pet. That is answer enough. I need to hear you speak for me again.”

*Speak for him again?* What did he mean by that?

I leaned closer to him, drawing him towards me. My lips closed on his own, and my tongue pried at his lips, coaxing him to part them. He did as I bid, an unspoken communication taking place. And when he opened them I bit down, tasting his blood in my mouth-- it was cool and tasted of the darkest berries. Poisonous yet delicious.

I had surprised him and a hiss escaped his lips as he pulled away from me. He had recovered quickly, regaining his composure.

“Fool me once…” His strong arm closed around my waist, and I cried out. “You shouldn’t have done that, Pet.”

He threw me down, effortlessly and I hit the couch, the springs bouncing against my weight.

He removed his clothes and his body met mine, his soul touched mine. His skin covered me like the waves of the sea that caress the sand of the beach.

Loki pulled back from me, looking at me hungrily. His hand came up to graze at my breast. I could tell he wanted to slow down, to take all of me in, but something in him or the beast in me made him rush on.

He pushed his way into me, and I whimpered, his length filling me entirely.

I rolled my eyes back in my head as visions danced behind my eyelids. A lightning strike met a lone tree, igniting it, making it burn brilliantly. A fox took down a hare, killing it as its narrow jaws closed down around its neck. A herd of wild horses, free and unbroken, stirred the dry-packed earth of a desert-- their mouths open in a song that echoed throughout a canyon. A bird plummeting down, wind flowing through its outstretched wings, 10,000ft. down.

Loki’s deep moan aroused me further. I opened my eyes to find his muscled form taken in the throes of ecstasy. For a moment, I wondered if he had seen what I had seen, but the thought was gone as quickly as it came.

Loki’s body stilled as if he was trying to slow down and savor me, but my hips continued to move and buck. I grabbed his narrow hips, pushing and pulling at him, fascinated by the blue tint his skin had against mine. His hand grabbed at both of my wrists, bringing them up easily to rest in confinement above my head.

“Fuck it,” he breathed raggedly and he sped up his pace, his fingers closing harshly around the bones in my wrist.

“I’m cumming, I’m cumming, oh.” Loki thrust into me, his cum pumping against the opening of my cervix.

In response to Loki’s words, my body came without warning and my back arched, legs shaking as I cried out, my walls clenching down around him.

Loki’s breath was cool against my neck, a welcome sensation. He stilled above me before turning to lay beside me. I watched his every move, my eyes full of wonder.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I replied, “Well, I guess I’m just surprised.”

Loki read my mind, “In the manner things played out? I must admit, I am surprised by this myself.”

I shook my head, “It’s normal. For you... Anyone else, really. I have a curse or an ability. When I was young I was forcibly given a serum that creates a pheromone that causes an irresistible attraction towards me.”

“I knew you were special, but even regardless of that, you are special because you were created for me.” He nodded, knowingly.

I glanced at him, surprised, “How do you mean?”

“You saw my skin change to blue, my red eyes-- the lines upon my skin. I am part Jotun-- something I can explain more later. Without any control, my true mate will force me into Jotun form without my consent. Something that will not placate until my sexual needs and union with the mate is fulfilled.”

I was speechless. I needed time to process this.

After a few moments of silence, Loki muttered, “Mushrooms.”

“Huh?”

“Mushroom stew. A writer friend of mine recently taught me how to make it.”

“Oh-- uh, cool,” I responded, confused and unimpressed.

“Are you hungry? I am completely famished. I’ll make it for us.” He looked at me, his green eyes shining like stars in the dark. It took me a moment to realize he was waiting for me to say something.

I smiled, it was evident he wanted things to work. “Sure, Loki, that sounds delicious.”

“Perfect.” He bent his neck, his face coming towards me and he placed a shy kiss on my lips.

***** Hope you all enjoyed this and it made you slide to the edge of your seat! There is so much about this one I am proud of, and I cannot wait to hear your thoughts! Send me an ask or leave me a comment and like and reblog! It is the most helpful thing you can do.

If you would like to be on the Taglist please send me an ASK. Until next time, Loki’s Pet Tiger

#loki fanfic #loki #loki marvel #imagine loki #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston loki #loki mcu #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki smut #loki lemons #loki x you #loki x reader #smut #sex pollen #sex pollem fic #lpt

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cake-writes · 5 years

Text

Heartbreak Girl

Pairings: Dark!Steve x Reader // Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Abuse, 18+

Word Count: 1.8k

Requested by Anon: Can I get a fic inspired by Heartbreak Girl or Treat You Better set after the accords mess, where Steve turns into a jerk and Bucky secretly has feelings for reader?

Sure can do! I used Heartbreak Girl as inspiration (obviously).

Steve had changed, and you hated him for it.

After the Accords, he’d become what felt like – to you – an entirely different person. Where once he was gentle and kind, now he was bitter and rough.

He started to do things in bed that you didn’t like: pulled your hair, slapped your ass or, occasionally, your face; whispered things to you that made you feel ashamed to let loose and enjoy yourself like you’d done so many times before with him.

Despite the fact that this was the 21st century and women these days were less sexually inhibited – in fact, a woman could express her sexuality more now than ever – there was something within him that never truly let the 1940’s go.

Steve valued chastity. He valued purity. He valued everything that you’d never ever been, and when the two of you first got together, he knew that. He’d been fine with that. He told you that he loved you the way you were, but now, that purity was what he wanted most. It wasn’t something you could give him.

Of course, it wasn’t like you were unfamiliar with rough sex. You used to enjoy it with him once, when he first got into it. You’d done it before with other men, too. It was a good way to let out some frustrations – and Steve, well, he had a lot of them, to the point that it was the only thing he wanted these days. He never treated you gently anymore, never whispered the sweet nothings into your ear that you’d grown so familiar with, that you preened for, longed for. Instead, he said your name like a curse, manhandled you, and gave you orders.

You complied, because you loved him.

When you went on missions together, they were awkward and uncomfortable and it only got worse the longer the two of you refused to admit that your relationship was falling apart. There was a pronounced change in the way you acted around him, and vice versa, so much that even the others started to notice. Whether it was Sam or Nat or Bucky, someone always made a joke about the tension. It wasn’t really a joke, though, and deep down you knew that. It was a thinly-veiled way of expressing their concern.

At first, you’d been able to brush it off. You’d just grin and wink and say, “He’s just a little cranky today.”

Except he wasn’t. Everyone else knew it too.

You couldn’t brush it off for long, especially not after Bucky pulled you aside in private once to ask if you were alright. There were marks on your wrists that you hadn’t been able to fully hide. The black leather of your gloves covered the majority of them, but not all and your concealer was meant for dark circles, not bruises. It washed away.

Steve’s fingers were too tight around your wrists. He left bruises far too often, and Bucky had seen them. He always saw them.

“I’m fine, Buck,” you hissed at him, like he’d caught you doing something shameful. “It was an accident. You know how he is. Let it go.”

Your reasoning was that Steve didn’t know his own strength. Bucky knew that was a god damned lie, but he did as you asked. He let it go.

You hated the way he looked at you with pity. You didn’t want it or need it. You could handle this. You’d dealt with worse before, with all of the brutal training and abuse and torture you’d been through once upon a time in the Red Room. This certainly paled in comparison.

Except in some ways, it didn’t. What you’d been put through before was impersonal. What Steve did to you was the opposite: entirely personal. It hurt. It stung. In some ways, it broke you.

The hallways in this dingy motel were exposed to the elements, dark and cold. It was three in the morning. Of course they were. You’d never really noticed it before, never had a reason to. Normally when you walked these halls, you were with the others. You were with the team.

Tonight, you were alone. Steve had used you, just like he always did, and then he’d gone to bed. You couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping next to him tonight. He’d been worse than ever.

You didn’t know what you expected when you knocked on the door to Bucky’s motel room. Maybe you wanted someone to listen. Maybe you wanted someone to care. Steve certainly didn’t, at least not anymore. Just like he’d broken you, something in him had broken, too. You couldn’t blame him for it. He’d been through far more than he could handle.

You left a couple of staggered raps on the door before it finally opened. Bucky was still half-asleep, wearing a plain black tank top and a pair of sweatpants that hung low on his hips. He rubbed his eyes blearily as he took you in, but the moment he saw that it was you, it woke him right up.

The too-large t-shirt on your small body was in tatters. It was one of Steve’s, he vaguely noted as he stared at you. It was the only thing you were wearing. Your soft thighs and legs and feet were bare. When the breeze picked up, he didn’t let his eyes wander anymore, almost afraid that you had nothing on underneath.

You didn’t. He didn’t look away quickly enough.

“Bucky—”

It was a harsh, choked sob, the way you said his name and it damn near killed him to hear it.

“Shh, it’s okay, it’s alright,” he soothed in what was the most tender, loving tone you’d heard from anyone in weeks. His warm hand on your shoulder was a small comfort as he gently brought you inside out of the cold.

Your skin was like ice to the touch, probably because of the weather and it made him wonder how long you’d been wandering around outside. You noticeably flinched when he touched you, and when he looked closer, he saw why. Your arms were littered with bruises. The back of your neck, too, and your thighs.

Fingerprints.

His temper flared instantly. What the hell was wrong with Steve to treat you like this, treat you so poorly—

“Don’t,” you rasped, placing a gentle hand onto his cheek. “It’s okay, Buck. Let it go.”

Let it go. You always told him to let it go.

God, you were so fucking small and fragile and it drove him insane because he knew Steve had just as much power in him as he did from the serum – and Steve had directed that at you, the sweet, small, fragile thing that you were. You were breakable in a way that made his heart ache. He would never, ever treat you this way.

But you didn’t want him to protect you. You didn’t want him to defend you. He wasn’t really sure what you wanted, really. It was three in the morning and you’d shown up on his doorstep like it was normal to show up on someone’s doorstep wearing nothing but a ripped t-shirt with nothing underneath.

His expression must have shown it all because you looked up at him through your lashes with those big doe eyes, like you knew they’d disarm him the second he saw them. Your fingers brushed against the stubble on his jaw and your thumb traced his lower lip, which sent a chill through him that it absolutely shouldn’t have.

“Hold me,” you said so quietly, he almost didn’t hear it and for a split second, he thought he must have misheard you. It must have been too long a pause because you added in the most pitiful, desperate tone he’d ever heard from you, “Please?”

Jesus Christ, he’d hold you for however long you wanted him to.

Bucky wrapped his arms around you like you were absolutely everything to him, and, if he was honest with himself, you were. He’d been in love with you for far too long and as much as he’d tried to get over it, get over you, he couldn’t – despite the fact that you and Steve were so happily in love.

Except you weren’t. Not really. Not anymore.

Your body was soft and pliable and so, so perfect against him. Before he even realized what he was doing, he was pressing kisses to your forehead, to the crown of your head, breathing in the scent of your sweet shampoo. His flesh hand was tracing sweet, delicate patterns on your back with entirely too much familiarity.

You didn’t say a thing. Instead, you leaned into his touch, buried your face in his chest and cried.

All he wanted was to ease your pain, and for a bit, he did. He held you for what felt like hours, and he didn’t say a word. When you finally pulled away, your eyes were still glistening with tears.

Something inside of him broke at the sight.

“Talk to me, sweetheart,” he begged – actually begged. Bucky Barnes did not beg, but when it came to you, he absolutely fucking did. “I’ll help you. Let me help you. Please.”

All you did was smile at him through your tears. “Don’t worry about me, Buck. I’ll be alright.”

He knew you would. You’d be alright, but that didn’t mean you’d be happy.

Unspoken words lingered on his tongue – I love you, Christ, love you so fucking much – but he didn’t say them. He wouldn’t burden you with that. Not when you were already suffering through so much.

When you pressed a kiss to his cheek, all he wanted to do was keep you there with him – but he let you go, just like you always asked him to do. He let you return to the supposed sanctity of the motel room you shared with Steve, with his best friend who’d been so corrupted by this fucking mess of a situation that he’d been taking it out on you for weeks.

Bucky slowly walked you to the door, holding your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. It was a gesture of love, of intimacy. The way you looked at him right before you unlaced your fingers from his was enough. Your eyes sparkled with what might have been love for him, once; but you loved Steve more than him, even though Steve put you so much turmoil and left bruises on not just your body but your heart.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, barely audible. What you said to him next was lost on the breeze. It was either a sweet, “Thank you,” or a heady, “I love you,” but he’d never know for sure because you didn’t repeat yourself and you never again visited him in the middle of the night.

Instead, the two of you shared glances every now and then that told him all him he needed to know. Some part of you loved him, too.

You’d never act on it, and neither would he.

You were Steve’s girl, and you always would be.

#steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #dark!steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #request #completed request #heartbreak girl

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bucksbisexual · 4 years

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YALL. AFTER 10 DAYS I FINISHED IT AND LET ME TELL YOU ALL THIS: HOLY FUCKING SHIT THAT WAS ONE OF THE BEST THINGS I HAVE EVER WATCHED IN MY LIFE. like oh my god so many things happened (and pom still doesn’t have his wallet back HSFKJFSH jkjk) i can’t even make a typical lengthed post about it because it would be leaving out like 3/4ths of the episode,,,, alright let’s begin this because i have So Many Things to say and i have to go to sleep soon SJFJSKFH (also i have to watch the trailer for the gifted graduation AAAAAA)

i’m gonna try the dots list thingy in this one because i know it’s gonna be long and a mess so.. lessgetit !

let’s start with the directors board meeting or whatever that was called,, pang was such a fucking badass holy fuck i admire his bravery but i HATE every single person in that room like..

someone just told you that the director of the school has been treating the students like SHIT and using them as guinea pigs for the gifted kids who are ALSO being used as guinea pigs and you just.. clap? and turn your back against him? holy SHIT did that infuriate me,,,

now thinking about it.. maybe the director mind controlled them to do so since yeah guess fucking WHAT. SURPRISE. THE THEORY WAS TRUE. HE CAN ALSO MIND CONTROL PEOPLE. AND HE’S REALLY FUCKING GOOD AT THAT.

[takes a deep breath] i will Not talk about him because it literally makes me want to commit a crime on a fictional character.

also, the scene before pang goes in the conference room with namtaan literally broke my heart yall...... like,, my heart? nowhere to be seen because its pieces are so small they’re almost invisible.

namtaan crying because she thinks that pang doesn’t trust her or ohm? namtaan saying that pang was lying when he said he cared about those around him? pang having to mind control namtaan to make her stay there and not follow him? yeah that shit really fucking hurted yall.

so in this scene we find out that when pom says the director is always a step in front of you, it’s true! that motherfucker staged it all and made pang’s story look like it was staged or whatever just so he could get more money and continue his reign in that school.............. i literally hate him so much

and he then fucking PUT HIM IN FRONT OF ALL OF THE GIFTED KIDS AND MADE HIM CRY. CRY. MY BABY. HE MADE HIM CRY!!!!!!!!! HE MADE HIM THINK HE WOULD NEVER WIN. EVER. HE ALSO MADE HIM LOOK LIKE A FOOL AND A TRAITOR. I FUCKING HATE HIM AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.

[takes a deep breath] god okay i need to calm down this man gets me on my fucking nerves.

anyways. this guy does his thing and makes pang feel like he truly lost then mind controls pom (i wanted to yell at pom so badly at that moment but i know it’s not his fault that he’s being brainwashed ugh) and pang who is literally trying to save his own life tells him THE EXACT WORDS CHANON TOLD HIM. AND POM CRIES. MY FUCKING HEART YALL. NOWHERE TO BE FOUND. IT HAS BEEN BROKEN WAY TOO MUCH IT’S BASICALLY NONEXISTENT. I WAS SOBBING.

so from that we go to the start of the second semester (which i had to guess by the 2 because there were no subs for that and i don’t understand thai lol) and pang is still the same exact kid who is best friends with nac, is a whole troublemaker and is in class 4-8 (which makes me wonder how tf they made everyone forget he was a gifted kid....... hmmmmm)

now when they first showed that i thought they were replaying ep1 KJSHFKSF but when the eating scene came on and there were people sitting on the gifted section i was like wait a minute............. hold on....................

then HE CLASHES WITH WAVE.

OH MY GOD.

AND HE ASKS HIM THE SAME EXACT QUESTION HE DID IN EP1.

OH MY FUCKING GOD.

((his expression when he sees him excuse me i will literally cry to sleep look at that he’s-my-friend-but-he-doesn’t-remember-me-so-i-can’t-call-him-by-his-name-or-else-he’ll-be-weirded-out-but-also-i-fucking-miss(ed)-out-asshole face he makes ;;))

AND MY JAW WAS ALREADY DROPPED BUT IT FELL TO THE GROUND WHEN NAMTAAN AND OHM APPEARED BEHIND HIM AND WERE LIKE “C’MON LET’S GO EAT”

AND PANG BEING LIKE huh why do i feel like i don’t remember something AFTER HE LOOKS AT EVERYONE SEATED WITH MR POM. HUH I FUCKING WONDER WHY BRO.

and then. AND THEN. a gifted pin that fell to the ground is taken by pang and as he walked to give it back to wave, nac stops him and thankfully pang keeps it because guess mf WHAT BABY.

THERE’S A MESSAGE ON THE BACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AND UNTIL NIGHT TIME WHEN PANG CAN’T SLEEP HE DOESN’T SEE IT

which makes me think,, for how long did the gifted class wait oh my god sjkfhksfjhsdlghl

AND PANG. FUCKING GENIUS PANG. THE VIDEO HE WAS FILMING ALL THIS TIME???????? YEAH IT WAS FOR HIMSELF. INCASE HE LOST. HOW FUCKING CLEVER IS THIS KID OH MY GOD

I LOVE PANG SO MUCH AS YOU ALL MAY HAVE NOTICED BY NOW.

also the fact that wave once caught him filming himself and just.. kept tabs on it since he seems to know pang just wouldn’t do one plan (you can see how shocked he is by ladda giving him the fake serum which i haven’t talked about but I LOVE LADDA AGAIN EVERYTHING’S GOOD WITH HER I LOVE U QUEEN <3<3<3) and when he, i guess, disappeared from the gifted program and didn’t talk with any of them wave just hacked pang’s computer and watched the video he had made incase it was important or whatever and i’m so glad for wave’s invasion of privacy because oh my god u saved my kiddo who saved his future self by being a smart bitch on the past. an icon.

AND THE LAST SCENE!!!!!!!!!!!! THE DIFFERENCE FROM WHEN PANG ENTERED THE ROOM FOR THE FIRST TIME!!!!!!!!!!!! EVERYONE BEING LIKE “YOU’RE HERE”!!!!!!!!!!! THEY PROBABLY LOST ALL HOPE BUT PANG MADE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HE FOUND OUT ABOUT HIMSELF AND ABOUT THEM!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I FELT SO PROUD OF MY SON WATCHING THIS

AND WAVE!!!!!!! “TOOK YOU LONG ENOUGH” BITCH SHUT THE FUCK HE JUST REMEMBERED UR EXISTENCE LIKE 2 MINUTES AGO I’LL KICK UR ASS (but with love because i love this dumbass too)

AND PANG’S SMIRK AAAAAAA YES BABY LET’S CHANGE THE FUCKING WORLD TOGETHER LET’S GET RID OF ROYAL FAMILIES AND CORRUPT GOVERNMENTS AND INSTITUTIONS LET’S FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOO

okay okay now comes the sad part that we were all waiting for..

mr pom still doesn’t have his wallet after 11 episodes </3

JKHFJSLFS i am Unable to be serious for one second i will explode if i try to

now that season 1 is done i will proceed to yell into the void that is my room until season 2 starts airing (i will watch the trailer of the gifted graduation after this i promise)

this drama was soooooo good idk if i’ll watch the movie because this drama is so well made and the acting and everything is so good idk how they’d be able to tell half of the story in less than 2 hours,,,, maybe it’s a water boyy situation but backwards idk

either way this drama gets a 10000000000000/10 and a plus for making me forget that i wanted to pee oh my gOD I NEED TO GO TO THE BATHROOM GOODBYE

#the gifted #this took almost a whole hour to write because i got distracted by a friend woops

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bruciewayne · 4 years

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okboomer.jpeg

stevetony, steve & peter, troll/millennial steve rogers, 2k

Something many people forget, or rather, overlook, about Steve Rogers is that he’s not really 90 years old, not in terms of lived years, technically he’s barely thirty, technically he’s a millennial. And a fast learner.

All of this culminates into one, hour-long conversation with Peter and Harley (Tony’s never going to tell him to babysit them ever again (he blatantly ignores Rhodey’s jabs at his kids getting along with his boyfriend (they’re not like that, he swears))) which ends with Steve getting Instagram and Twitter. Which seems harmless initially, because it’s not like he’s going to get catfished, or groomed, or manage to buy into every pyramid scheme ever (Peter tells Tony that only Facebook has pyramid scheme ads and if, after that, he makes an active effort to be on the Stark Industries Twitter more, then no-one has to know), but it’s soon evident that memes, which appear to be entirely inconsequential fun, are in fact, not.

For whatever god-given purpose, Steve and Peter hang out a lot more than one would expect from a man from the Great Depression and a kid too young to remember 9/11, which means, as with most friendships, their vernacular somehow ends up merging, case and point, last week.

“So you and Cap are getting along pretty well,” Tony says, casually, as he walks into the kitchen around noon (he hates to admit it, but he’s getting to the age where his body will actively protest to any accidental fasting), and finds Peter waiting for his garlic bread to warm in the oven.

“Yeah! I know everyone thinks he’s hard-boiled, but he cooks with gas and he’s no chicken, so it’s all gucci in my book,” Peter replies, not taking his eyes off the oven door, completely oblivious to Tony attempting to translate everything he just said, because he’s fully fluent in six languages and what on earth just flew out of Peter’s mouth isn’t any of them.

Tony feels like he should be concerned, but Steve seems to be more comfortable in the century and Peter, from what he’s gathered, either thinks of him as an older brother or an eccentric uncle, so, despite his better instincts, he watches from afar as Peter (and some of his friends, and Harley) manage to incorporate more 1940s slang into their vocabulary than Steve had, and as Steve becomes almost worryingly invested in meme culture.

“I don’t really know,” he says simply, when Tony asks him why he took so easily to it. Tony pours out two cups of coffee and slides one over to Steve. It’s late enough that the very first rays of sunlight are just peaking across the horizon, and just about dark enough that they can pretend it’s still yesterday.

“They’re fun,” Steve says, after a moment, and Tony pretends to watch New York officially move into the next day, staring at Steve and the way the orange-pink light hits his face instead.

“I can’t say I understand it fully,” Tony starts, quietly, “but it’s nice to see you happy.”

Steve turns to face him. What feels like long ago Tony couldn’t bear the full, intense, focus of Steve’s gaze, but now, now that he’s not trying to intimidate him, he can’t help but feel almost comforted by it.

“Thank you,” Steve says, after a moment, mouth, pretty and so, so pink, quirking up at the corner.

He doesn’t know who moved first, but one minute they’re just staring at each other, and the next, he’s in his lap and finally, finally, they’re going to bed.

“May I remind both you, Sir, and Captain Rogers, that you have the mandatory biannual Avengers press conference in two hours,” JARVIS says, after allowing Steve and Tony a few precious minutes of afterglow (in the space of three days, Tony’s discovered some fascinating things about Steve, one of which includes just how fast he can move his tongue).

Steve groans into his neck and wraps his arms around his waist, effectively pinning him to the bed, not that Tony’s complaining, but he was late for the first of these biannual conferences and after that Fury installed a rule (with the help of Pepper the traitor), that ends with Tony teaching a community college foundation maths class, so he nudges Steve gently, “Get up.”

“No,” he says, almost petulant, somehow attempting (and, bafflingly, succeeding) to move closer to him, despite starting out with no space whatsoever between them, not that, once again, Tony’s complaining, “don’ wanna,” he mumbles.

“We have to,” Tony says, trying to be the adult, whilst making no effort to push Steve off him.

“Nah,” Steve says, and Tony can feel him smiling, all soft and gentle against his skin, “‘m Captain ‘Merica, don’ gotta do nothing.” God.

“Double negative, darling.”

“You’re’a double negative,” Steve grumbles, but the supposed intended effect is entirely lost by the way he’s looking at Tony, like he hung the moon and the stars and created life and the earth itself (for what reason, is akin to Atlantis to Tony, but by God had Steve asked him for the moon, for the whole damn solar system, he would do anything in his power to give him it). He knows that the battle is completely lost when Steve starts spreading a series of incredibly distracting kissing down his chest, and who is he to disobey his captain’s orders?

“One more strike and you’re off to community college,” Fury growls as soon as he comes into the green room, followed by Steve.

“He was helping me with an emergency, sir,” Steve says, Tony notices that his voice had dropped into what he’s internally dubbed his ‘Captain Important Voice’, which makes everyone what to follow his exact words (and has the side effect of making Tony unimaginably horny, but now, just before he’s about to be on multiple live news channels, isn’t the time), and despite being at least two decades his senior, Fury just nods.

“You’re excused for now, Stark,” he mutters, quite possibly the closest he’s ever gotten to apologising.

Tony grins at Steve, “Have I finally corrupted America’s Golden Boy?”

Steve smiles back, small, but with an edge, teasing, “Don’t take all the credit, I’m pretty sure Arnie and Bucky had something to do with it, back in the day,” he says, and Tony’s vision absolutely does not turn greener than a copper fire at the prospect of Steve having sex with someone else, because he’s well aware that he’s not a virgin, therefore, by definition, has had sex with other people, and Tony’s definitely okay with that and doesn’t want to drag him into the janitor’s room and mark him up where the people ten feet away can and can’t see (amongst his discoveries, he’s found out that his thighs are delightfully sensitive) and then curses the serum for clearing up the marks so fast that it would be entirely futile (well… not entirely). Nope. Not him.

He’s not bad at poker, but he knows from Steve’s expression that he’s given himself away, and then it dawns on him, maybe that was the end goal.

“Bastard,” Tony mutters, under his breath, as they walk through the curtains to face the vultures, and Steve just grins wider, that little glint in his eye confirming what he thought. He really does live up to the title of ‘Master Tactician’, huh?

And now Tony’s horny in front of quite possibly the worst group of humans to possibly exist: reporters (not that he’d ever even mention that to Wayne, not if he liked having his balls attached as they originally are, and in the right place). On the bright side (and they do like unnecessarily using the flash) they, and the prospect of the questions sure to be flung his, and the team’s, way, manage to pretty much decimate his libido.

The conference goes as all conferences go, slowly, Tony finds himself creating JARVIS’ updates, SIOS updates, and, during a particularly dull exchange between a reporter and Thor, reciting the capital cities in reverse-alphabetical order, then, during the mandatory sexist-reporter-against-Natasha exchange, the elements of the periodic table, in order of most to least reactive.

He takes to staring at Steve after that, he’s not in uniform, but he doesn’t need to be, to be respected and regarded as ‘Captain America’, everything about his body language, his expression, the way he holds himself, he exudes power and control and Tony’s fascinated and bewitched entirely, even as Steve’s focused on the reporters.

He almost jolts when one of them addresses Steve.

“Captain, as a man from a time when homosexuality was considered a criminal offence, do you support the legalisation of same-sex marriage across all states?”

Steve, if possible, sits up straighter, and says, “As a bisexual man growing up when I did, nothing would make me prouder for this nation. Everyone, regardless of race and gender, deserves to have the right for their love to be acknowledged by the state, withholding that right, just because it’s two grooms, doesn’t constitute American values of equality and freedom, and, if I may be crass, it’s long overdue.”

They don’t even get a chance to celebrate, or clap, because a white, balding reporter with quite possibly the worst shirt-tie combination Tony’s seen in a while, stands up, “I demand you resign, we can’t have a faggot represent America! You’ll be spreading your disease to impressionable young kids, then what would we be? A nation of fairies and bumboys? We’d be the laughing stock of the world!”

Steve gets that glint in his eye again, and smiles a little as he leans closer to the microphone, making direct eye-contact with the man, who’s squirming slightly, and up until this point, Tony’s almost forgotten about Steve and his fluency in modern memes, but he can see Peter grinning and he just knows what he’s going to say, a millisecond before it comes out of his mouth.

“Ok, Boomer.”

And that’s when the room explodes with more laughter than Tony’s ever seen in all his years (and maybe, when Steve grins, all sunny and bright and so goddamn beautiful, that’s when he realises that he’s in love, but that’s for another time), and Maria has to take them off stage.

The next morning, Steve flicks through his phone to find his face plastered all over the internet, news sites and meme pages alike.

CAPTAIN AMERICA SHUTS DOWN HOMOPHOBE

my parents talkin abt how ‘art isn’t a career’:

me:

okboomer.jpeg

CAPTAIN AMERICA OR CAPTAIN DISRESPECT?

was anyone going to tell me that captain america is a millennial who’s aware of, and uses topical memes

or was i meant to watch him verbally decimate an incel on msncb myself???

STARS AND STRIPES? CAPTAIN AMERICA COMES OUT

anyways if captain ‘from the fucking 1940s gays are sin era’ america doesn’t have to “make a choice” neither do i ✌✌

“You’re a worldwide sensation,” Tony teases, nudging him.

Steve just shrugs, “It’ll go away by tomorrow,” he says, optimistically. He puts his phone on the bedside table and turns to Tony, all talk of memes leaving the room very fast.

It doesn’t. Not even when Ellen mentions it.

“Cap,” Peter says, jogging up to him, almost half a year after that damn conference, “I don’t think you understand, you’re gonna end up in the modern meme hall of fame.”

“Well, there are probably worse things to be known for.”

(It takes Tony an embarrassingly long time to realise that Steve was talking about his old sex tapes.)

((After that it takes him even longer to realise the implications: Steve’s watched those tapes.))

for ‘accidental meme’ on happy steve bingo

#steve rogers x tony stark #steve x tony #stevetony #steve rogers #tony stark #stony fic #this is so disjointed kjdfghlksdfjg #my fic #my writing

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dragonrajafanfiction · 4 years

Text

Dragon Dancer Chapter 14: Deal with the Devil

Previous Chapter

Go back to the Beginning

My mind entered a trance . I didn’t see the room or the people in it. I didn’t even see the boy. I only perceived the life force in his body. The dragon blood warred on his body, wrestling with his human side, swallowing it like a snake. The corruption coursing through the boy’s veins was like a weight pushing against me. To stop his conversion was about as difficult as catching a heavy box being tossed from a window and then throwing it back in an immediate reversal!

The child fell, screaming, writhing on the cold metal floor of his confines. My power was like a fire, burning away and wounding the dragon blood, hobbling it so that it could no longer devour his human side. It looked even more painful than I remembered but I did it. He wasn’t turning into a servitor. He was changed.

The men in lab coats marveled, recording on their devices as the scales vanished and the boy’s eyes returned to normal.

The vision I saw ended. I blinked my eyes, staring at my hand. My joy shone through my smile, the tears in my eyes.

“I did it…” I whispered.

“Quickly!” The grandmother began barking orders at the people gathered around, “Take a sample!”

The labcoated people sprang into action and entered the cage, brandishing their kits with needles and vials. They were all over him, pinning him down while he was crying. He was looking at me in terror, not relief but I couldn’t help him.

They let him go, once they had all they needed, but kept him in the cage. The boy pulled his shirt over his head to hide his face. While they were distracted by their machines and monitors set up to study the results, I went to the side of the cage to better see him. “Hey. It’s okay. You’re not going to turn into a monster any more.” I said, reaching through the bars.

I’m pulled away from him by my arm. Anthony glared at me. “Be careful! He might still turn.”

“He won’t turn!”

Anthony stared at me. “Why are you so surprised? Don’t tell me you’ve never done this before?”

We were both startled by the amazed gasps coming from the medical personnel. The grandmother was nodding and smiling with validation.

A young man who had been hanging back against the wall approached me. “I guess it worked.” There was no joy or celebration in his eyes. They were crimson, like Isaac's.

"This is Lukas. The boy you healed is Tobias. They are Isaac’s brothers.” Anthony explained.

Guilt dampened my joy, now that I faced more of Isaac’s family. “I wanted… I wanted to help him. Help Isaac…” I whispered. “I can still try to get out of here-”

He stopped me with a wave of his hand. “It’s okay. You can’t change the past.” He kept his eyes on the boy, a pained expression on his face. “Besides, it’s either Isaac or him. It can’t be both. If you save Isaac, who will come to save him later? Won’t you disappear into a time paradox?”

He was right. If Isaac didn’t die, how would I end up here? What would happen to this child?

He took a shaking breath. “When do you … go back in time?”

“Not for a few more days.”

“Alright. Let’s… not worry about those days. What happened during that time is already fixed.” On Lukas's face there was no bright smile, no self-confidence, only weariness and grief. “Try to figure out what you’re going to do after that.”

The Grandmother was already on the phone, talking rapidly. “I’ve sent you the results. They’re remarkable. A complete reversal.” But then her smile faded. “Yes… yes, I understand. I’m sure once you see the results for you-...” She paused. “Tomorrow? I- yes, yes I can do that? How many will you need?”

The young man watched. “That’s probably Japan on the line. The dragon’s blood serum that we manufacture is actually of their make. The Devil Clan uses it. They’re a whole gang made of unstable hybrids in Japan.”

“I know.” I lowered my eyes.

“You do?” He asked, astonished.

“I want to help them too. So they don’t die.”

His shock turned to worry. “Alright… you and I need to talk, privately…” He leaned close to my ear. “Pretend to be sick.”

“Ok.” I closed my eyes and went limp against him.

Anthony’s voice. “Hey! What’s wrong with her!”

“She needs to lay down.” He was helping me stand up. I didn’t make it easy for him. “No I have it. I’ll take her back to her room.”

Surprisingly, it worked. I resisted the urge to peek, trusting him as he escorted me back down the hall.

“You’re a good actor.” He said once we were out of earshot.

“I … I used to do ballet.”

He pushed the door to my bedroom open. The servitor eyes watching me in the window saw my escort and immediately shut.

“Hey, that thing… It’s a servitor. Why isn’t it hostile?” I asked.

He locked the door. “Gramma has a connection with it. She has a strong will and the skill to control a servitor. Strong hybrids can actually control weaker ones to an extent, even if they’re not servitors.” He stood in front of me. “Okay, quick, tell me what happened between you and Isaac.”

“He gave me that stuff you manufacture… I went crazy and got stabbed by one of his men. He healed my injury but turned into a monster. I killed him by accident when he attacked me."

He shook his head in denial. “It doesn’t sound like him at all to do that. Dragon's blood is one of our company secrets. He…” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know he always was trying to prove himself to Gramma and the executives. He was under a lot of pressure. It’s hard to explain. This doesn’t mean anything to you.” He let his hand drop. “Knowing what I do now, I can… text him and let him know how I feel. It’s not an opportunity people often get.”

“You’re not going to tell him to stay away from me?”

“It won’t matter!” I flinched and he looked apologetic. “Tell me. How do you know the Devil Clan?”

Someone knocked on the door. Anthony spoke behind it, and calmly gave us fifteen more seconds before he had to break in.

“Get in bed.” He turned and opened the door.

I managed to get under the blanket before Anthony saw me. He was followed by a nurse with a kit of needles and vials. I flinched away. “No…”

“Hey, she’s dizzy, leave her alone.” Lukas waved her off of me. “Give her an hour.”

Anthony stepped between him and me. “I’m afraid we must insist. The transaction went through and Herzog wants the eggs tomorrow night.”

“Eggs?” Lukas hissed.

More medical personnel entered. I looked to Lukas for help, for answers. “What… what’s going on?”

They surrounded the bed. The men grabbed my arms and pushed me down. “Get off!”

As I struggled, I turned my eyes to the window to the monster. It was looking at me “Hey!”

The eyes in the smoke locked on to mine.

“Get them off me!” I demanded.

The medical personnel backed away as the servitor oozed through the glass, rising from the floor in a column of dark mist, hissing like a cobra. I rolled out of bed and moved behind it.

Lukas called to me, backing against the wall. “Hey… call it off. Call it off, I said!”

My anger rose with my heart rate. “What’s the magic word?”

The beast let out a low growl, a long tendril growing from its head and sprouting whip-like protrusions that menaced the people in the room. It was taking orders from me, the stronger Hybrid.

Lukas swallowed. “Please…”

I exhaled and relaxed. The creature paused, and then lowered to the floor, slithering out through the glass and dissipating. The room filled with a fearful silence. No one moved.

Realizing this was a chance I hadn’t had before, I straightened up a little more, “I want you… to leave me alone. I won’t have any part of this… whatever this is. Whatever you did to that kid. To Isaac. All of it! You hear me!”

The door opened a little farther and the Matriarch came in, calm and slightly amused. Maybe her connection to the Servitor made her aware of the fact that I had wrested control of it from her.

“I hear you. We’re going to work things out. I’m going to have a very important guest tomorrow. But don’t worry. I won’t make you work for free. We’re asking a lot from you and I understand that.”

I glanced at the window. The servitor was gone. “Where’s the child I cured?"

“He’s resting comfortably.” She answered, not taking any further steps forward. I backed away anyway.

“What happens to him now?” “What would you like to happen?” She asked.

“He should go somewhere his family is.” I tried to keep my voice from shaking and failed. “No more cages. No more being locked up!” I looked at the people in the room, searching for some semblance of sympathy. “So he can have a childhood, and be happy and safe. For once in his life. … like I did!”

Her dark eyes were serene as she absorbed my words. “Alright.” She nodded. “That’ll happen. I’ll make it a priority. And in exchange, I’d like your cooperation.” Her eyes looked me up and down. “We can provide you the resources, the expertise, the manpower. You have something we want as well.”

She folded her hands in front of her. “Dr. Herzog has agreed to purchase five of your unfertilized eggs for five hundred million dollars… I could collect them by force, but I’d rather not.”

“Five… hundred million dollars?” I whispered in disbelief.

The Matriarch massaged her temple. “You really don’t understand how precious you are. And how much you mean to the world hybrids. Not just your genes, but the power they contain could save countless lives, and relieve suffering well into the future.” She spoke to me softly, intently. “You are priceless. Five hundred million is nothing. Nothing.”

I shook my head. “I don’t trust you. I’ll believe it when I see it. You’re letting your own grandson die! You’re not that generous, you’re not that kind. The minute I don’t do what you want… you’re going to take it all away. Aren’t you?”

Her smile disappeared, she sighed. “There’s not a lot of people who care for the unstable the way you do. In our society, they’re trash. Garbage. Waste. You know it as well as I do, having read those books… and you’ve seen it. With our help, you can save as many unstable children as you want… Unless you expect someone else to?”

She was right. Nobody cared about Isaac, not even his own family. The man who nearly killed me in Japan said he’d been locked away his whole life. The only reason Tobias was alive was because I had requested from my father the power to heal. No one was looking for a cure. I was the cure.

“Do we have a deal?” The woman asked.

“Even if I say no, you’re going to go through with it anyway.” Tears slip down my face.

“I’m trying to make this easier on you. I don’t have to.” Her voice softened. “You’ve been kind to my boys. I want to give something back.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and nodded. “Okay.” I whispered.

I walked toward the bed and sat down. Lukas, who had watched the whole thing, balled his hands into fists and left the room. Anthony stayed, but he didn’t look me in the eye. The nurse cautiously approached, looking for any sign of resistance as she inserted the sedative filled needle into my arm. Then she helped me settle against the pillow. I closed my eyes and fell unconscious.

Next Chapter

#herzog

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epicstuckyficrecs · 5 years

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Post Endgame Fic Rec!

So at the time I’m making this post, I haven’t seen Endgame yet (but it’s out in certain parts of the world), but I imagine that what everybody will want after watching it is either 1) to pretend it never happened, or 2) some fluff (I tried to keep it to fics posted in the last year since I already did a fluff fic rec after IW). So here goes! Enjoy!

(* besides the ones I’ve read)

Infinity War fix-it

*still here by wearing_tearing (1,8K): Steve wipes the dust off his face.

*To Never Have Loved At All by hitlikehammers (3K): Steve will say they had work to do, and a universe to put to rights. They had people to find and hearts to unbreak. They had a mission. There was no time for any of them to mourn. Steve, as it turns out, says a lot of things that are mostly bullshit.

Beyond the Burn by eyres (7K): Steve saves the universe - but it takes him awhile to be okay again.

This is the Perfect Time to Panic by Brokenpitchpipe, emij1s (8K): Finding the infinity stones and restoring half the universe is the boring part. The fun part comes next.

*watch them rolling back by napricot (17K): Bucky was just here, he was right here. This can’t be all that’s left. Well, it’s not all that’s left, not quite. There, in the pile of ash that used to be Bucky Barnes, already drifting to scatter across the soil of Wakanda, to dissipate in the air, to be nothing but dust on Steve’s hands and in his gasping mouth and in his lungs—left there, in that ash and dirt, are his gun, and his left arm, gleaming dully in the sunshine.

Realignment by amethystkrystal (24K): After assembling their own Infinity Gauntlet, the Avengers defeated Thanos and brought back everyone who disappeared. But their victory came at a great cost: in order to take the Soul Stone, Steve had to sacrifice the Captain America mantle and all the super-soldier strength that came with it. Small and sickly again, Steve’s poor health soon reaches a breaking point and his last option is a difficult surgery only Shuri and her team can perform. But not all hurts can be fixed with medicine, and the real healing begins after the operation -- when Bucky asks Steve to stay in Wakanda with him.

*Endless War by Nonymos (27K): There is always something more to lose. (Which means all is not lost.)

At Times I Almost Dream by LadyC (29K): When Thanos snapped his fingers, he split the universe into two – one where half the population had been erased from existence, another where the other half had. As both sets of Avengers will learn, the divide between the worlds is thinner for those who share a particular type of connection…

*might never be normal again (but who cares) bynapricot (WIP, 3/4, 36K): All things considered, Steve thought he’d handled the whole Thanos killing half the universe thing and the ensuing bitter, desperate quest to defeat him pretty well. Sacrificing his super soldier serum to use one of the Infinity Stones wasn't a problem either, not when it meant getting back the half of the universe they'd lost, and especially not when it meant getting Bucky back. But retirement and finally confessing his feelings for Bucky? Those were proving to be more challenging.

Dismantle The Sun by hitlikehammers (WIP, 19/20, 56K): This is the way the world ends: with a bang, and a whimper, plus a snap. And yet—between realities and quantum vagaries and heartbreak and that foolish not-just-human penchant toward hope—even that wasn't the end of their stories. Not even close.

Fluff

*I [Heart] You by writeonclara (1,1K): “Steve’s been hit with a curse,” Natasha said. She said it calmly, so Bucky didn’t immediately go flying out of the apartment to tear apart the Tower in search of Steve. “Of course he has,” he said. He felt, abruptly, exhausted. “What is it?” “It might be easier just to show you.”

*Boeuf Mystère by galwednesday (1,2K): “Quick question,” Bucky said. Steve looked up, but didn’t stop moving passports and stacks of cash into a nondescript blue duffel, his mind busily ticking through logistics. He’d grab the glock taped behind the hidden drawer in the desk on their way out, and they could buy new clothes once they got across the border into neutral territory, so they didn’t need much else, apart from whatever Bucky wanted to bring. One duffle should be enough. “Yeah, honey?” “What the fuck.”

*Blank and Silent by Kellyscams (1,6K): Without any words on his wrist, Steve Rogers is sure he'll never find his soulmate. But fate might have some different plans for him.

*Check, Mate? by talkplaylove-art (talkplaylove), wearing_tearing (2K): A notification from Check, Mate? blinks back at him. Steve’s heart speeds up when he opens the app and then his face breaks into a blinding grin when sees what’s waiting for him. James likes him back.

*Just About Half-Past Ten by rohkeutta (2K): But as he reaches Madison Avenue, Stark Tower a mere block away, the skies open with a whoosh, and he barely manages to duck under the construction scaffolding perched over the sidewalk. Thunder rumbles overhead, and Bucky frantically checks every compartment of his bag for an umbrella he knows is there. It’s not. He does find some loose glitter, though, and a lipstick he wore for Pride and had thought he’d lost, plus a spare Metro Card he can’t remember buying. He also gets a crystal clear flashback of leaving the umbrella under his desk to dry yesterday morning, and never picking it up again.

*One for Fiction by thepinupchemist (6K): In the heart of a modern library, children's librarian Bucky Barnes meets his match in the form of the new barista: Steve Rogers. He doesn't think there's any way his crush could be requited -- but sometimes librarians don't know everything.

*A Little Sparkle by roe87 (7K): "What about that guy in accounting?" Natasha mused. "Billy, Buddy, or...?" "Bucky," Steve said, knowing who she meant. "Lip piercing, right?" "Yeah! He's cute." "Yeah," Steve agreed hesitantly, then added, "but I'm not ready for that."

*A World That Makes Such Wonderful Things by stevergrsno (noxlunate) (8K): In which Steve is a mermaid, Bucky's a werewolf, and as always, they fall for each other.

*Found: One Bicycle by gracie137 (8,7K): Bucky Barnes posted in Overheard at Middlebury College: Hello fellow students! Basically in my drunken stupor last night I came across a bicycle. Being rather intoxicated and far from home I decided the logical thing to do was ride it back. I can assure you all that both me and the bike survived this adventure and are in perfect condition!! I now however have no use for for said vehicle and have realised that someone is probably pretty upset about having lost it. Anyway, if you can correctly identify the bike’s make and colour, slide into my DMs and I promise to return it to you!! Thanks for the ride xoxo

*Kiss me and take off your clothes by steveandbucky (10K): Steve Rogers is dared to send a dick pic to a blog which critiques dick pics (run by none other than Bucky Barnes). Hilarity ensues.

*before we can breathe easy by belovedmuerto (22K): No one touches Steve. Bucky sets out to do something about that.

*Roll Out the Red Carpet by Lorien, Quarra, talkplaylove-art (talkplaylove) (29K): The premiere for Steve Rogers' newest Captain America movie was just around the corner, and Steve knew it was going to be a hit. The big downside was that he had to have a date. The last several times he'd brought someone to an event like this, things had ranged from unpleasant to disastrous. In a last ditch effort to get out of taking someone that might make his night hell, Steve went on Twitter and invited the Winter Soldier to be his plus one. The Soldier was an international fugitive, and currently wanted for a series of high profile attacks on corrupt businessmen. Since every person the Soldier attacked was involved in some truly vile criminal activity, the public loved him, despite his crimes. Inviting him to the premiere was the perfect cop out. There was no way he was ever going to show. Right?

*The Twilight Bark (And Other Things Bucky Has To Deal With On A Daily Basis) by spacebuck (36K): Steve Rogers: I couldn’t say no to this little guy, so I guess he’s coming home with me! The picture below it is an overexcited looking dog, barely older than six months, shoving its nose through the bars of a shelter gate. The tweet already has twenty thousand retweets, a few thousand more likes, and nearly three thousand comments. Bucky can’t help himself, leads in hand, and he leans a shoulder against the doorjamb and taps the comment field. bbarnes: if you’re ever in need of a walker I’d be happy to take the lil guy on, nyc based and rescues are my thing!

#stucky #stucky fic #stucky fanfic #stucky fanfiction #stucky fic rec

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eldunea · 4 years

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THE ATAXTE MAARI AND GALRAS’ FIRST ENCOUNTER: TWO PERSPECTIVES

What actually happened

the galra first came to the moon elves as refugees fleeing political corruption and environmental degradation in their homeland. they wanted to find an uninhabited territory to call their own. when they arrived in the great altean desert, the massive scar-shaped sandscape that cut across the planet in a jagged band, they were utterly blown away. unlike the environment of daibazaal, so polluted that even clean water was a luxury only the elite could afford, the uninhabited parts of the land had been so well-kept by the people who lived on it that it looked as though no one had ever lived there at all. they thought they had reached an incomprehensible paradise--finally, a new and perfect home waiting for them with open arms. little did they know that the land was already taken.

the leader of the galra had hijacked warships for their escape, and outfitted them to be suitable for habitation. unbeknownst to them, every spacefaring people in this sector had signed a treaty never to bring armed ships into each others’ airspace and outerspace, and so the moon elvish warriors who saw these ships immediately believed them to be a hostile foreign threat from another galactic sector looking to conquer. sensing that the fleet could easily be destroyed, they warned the galra to turn back or else be annihilated. the galra refused, and so 90% of their ships were wiped out. the other 10% were able to land, after which they were surrounded. the warriors sent to scout for survivors had donned their space armor, which served to protect against foreign agents of disease.

the moon elves were shocked to discover that their new prisoners of war were not legions of fit soldiers, but rather sick and dying families with children. the people commanding the warships had given no indication that they had been in fact harboring refugees, instead posturing as though they meant to destroy every single moon elf that stood in their way. the 10,500 or so remaining galra were immediately taken into quarantine, where they were inspected and treated. almost every single one of them carried some sort of contagion--whether it be parasites such as fleas and worms, bacteria, viruses, even prions. many would have died if not for moon elvish intervention. luckily for them, the moon elves were able to instantaneously sequence the DNA of the pathogens and parasites, and invent cures for all unknown ailments within a matter of days. development and distribution took a fair bit longer than that, and so some still died waiting for the cure. but it was fast enough to save several thousand lives, something for which the galra have never thanked their hosts.

this did not come easily, however. the elites of the galra kingdom were so corrupt and greedy that the common people either did not have access to medicine and hygiene or believed them to be unhealthy, or both. (honestly, it was a miracle that they even managed to get into space, let alone come so far from their homeworld and homestar. while the elites wasted the peoples’ money on extravagant space trips and on building warships that might one day conquer distant galaxies, many of the more isolated communities had grown up thinking outer space was just a myth.) when the moon elves attempted to bathe the galra in steamy hot water, they fought tooth and nail, thinking they were to be boiled alive. when the moon elves attempted to give treatments such as healing balms, vaccinations, pills and serums, their patients balked. some galra were particularly scared of the concept of vaccination, fearing that if pathogens were put into their bodies they would catch the disease; they were also terrified of pills, because pills resembled the bioweapons that power-hungry elites would slip in each others’ food--they contained bioengineered parasites that could eat someone from the inside out. thousands of galra had to be sedated even to receive simple basic checkups because they would otherwise attempt to attack and kill their healers.

when the galra leader was finally declared free of all infections and safe to interact with general society, he was not thankful, he was furious. he came before the ataxte maari clan council and demanded compensation for the killing of 90% of his fleet, and also demanded to know where the rest of his people were being kept. he was informed that the council would attempt to present compensation in due time--also that some of the quarantined galra had been released; others were still in quarantine, and still others had died. he told the elders that he “knew” his people were being tortured in quarantine, and that he would accept only one form of compensation for the deaths of his compatriots. he said one galra life was worth at least ten of the “savages,” so he demanded the arbitrary killing of at least ten times as many moon elves as the number of galra who had died.

he and the council then got into an argument about restorative vs retributive justice and about the nature of the treatment that the galra received, in which it was apparent that he understood neither basic science nor basic decency. he insisted loudly and vulgarly that his people would have been “fine” on their own and that they didn’t need the help of those who were lower than them. the council leader retorted that many other spacefaring species would have killed him for his insults and turned his people out to die, but it was only altean values of compassion and hospitality that stayed her hand. at the very end, he tired of using his brain, and instead rushed the clan council intending to kill the five matriarchs seated before him. suddenly, he found himself dead on the floor with six poison arrows sticking out of his body, each one embedded in a vital organ.

the council never told the galra that their leader had been killed. instead, the council leader’s son shapeshifted into his form and took his place among the purple. this was part of the matriarchs’ overarching plan. they decided to let the galra stay on their land temporarily before sending them off to an uninhabited desert planet several hundred lightyears away that they thought was suitable for the galras’ new home. during this time, they would teach the galra proper values for interacting among themselves and other species--such as the concepts that every sapient being deserves to live happily, that it’s not okay to just slit peoples’ throats when they’re too old, weak or disabled to take care of themselves, and that it is also not okay to kill someone over a scrap of food found in a garbage dump. they would also teach about scientific concepts such as sustainable land management, space travel (including maintenance of spaceships) and medicinal and hygiene practices. the false galra leader would pose as the exemplar of these positive behaviors and willingness to learn the new knowledge, in the hopes that the refugees would look to him as a model.

and it worked………with some of them. some of the galra did their darnedest to keep up with the alteans’ teachings, and even though they didn’t understand things like showing compassion to the weak, they rolled with it anyway. they admired the elaborate city planning and horticulture that they had never had on daibazaal; when they stepped into moon elvish cities for the first time, they thought they were dreaming. back home where everything had to be fought for or else it was not “deserved,” they could never have conceived of a society with free food, free water, free healthcare and free housing--and they were definitely starting to see the perks of the altean way of life.

but then there were the greedy fucking bastards who were just there for the benefits and none of the teachings. they ate all the food while never offering to help hunt, squandered their water quotas then demanded gallons more, and constantly mocked their teachers’ language and dress. they also disparaged the galra who seemed to be assimilating with the alteans, accusing them of being in league with the “transgendered degenerates” (the galra hated altean acceptance of LGBTQ identities). when these galra started becoming a violent threat to the alteans, the moon elves had them deported to the uninhabited desert planet. they sent along some of the “good” galra volunteers to continue the training, but these volunteers were soon killed as "traitors” to their culture. having murdered the only people who could have taught them about sustainable land and resource management, the galra deportees eventually ruined the entire planet they were planted in due to unchecked warfare and environmental irresponsibility, thus killing themselves off within a matter of centuries.

the tale, however, does not end here.

[TW for the consumption of sapient beings.]

even the “good” colonizers had a bad side. as i have discussed in previous headcanons, galra are instinctively drawn to eating alteans due to the extremely high amount of quintessence in their bodies. even the ones that promised to play nice and learn moon elvish values had a barely-quenched thirst for altean blood. some of them started having this extreme hunger around the council leader’s son; shapeshifted though he was, something about him made them feel half-starved and ready for a meal. finally, one galra couldn’t resist any longer, attacked him and killed him for food. when his corpse automatically shapeshifted back into altean form, the deception was discovered.

the galra, understandably, were furious. but instead of acting in the regular galra way and immediately attempting to kill the moon elvish leaders in revenge, they had learned a thing or two from their hosts. alteans can be very deceptive, and if there’s one thing they learned from the moon elves, fighting smart can outlast fighting hard. so they played along. they said that he had died in an accident and appointed a new leader to carry out their task.

following the appointment of the new leader, for some reason hundreds of moon elves started to go missing from their communities--several children disappeared, but most of them were of childbearing age. the ataxte maari nation wound up missing enough people in so short a time that a national emergency was declared, but for a while, they had no idea the source of this tragedy. the truth was, their people were being rounded up and slaughtered or bred for their meat in underground factory farms. it was the galras’ intention to get revenge for the killing of their people by taking over the paradise they had landed in and enslaving as meat the people who had taught them everything they knew.

in the end they were caught, and their surviving victims were rescued. the ringleaders were killed and they, too, were deported--this time not to a warm desert but to a cold one, an icy wasteland devoid of nearly all life. unlike their brethren who were sent to the desert, they were able to survive. the new leader’s line were in power on and off for hundreds of thousands of years, lasting all the way down to the days of the galra empire. eventually, a commander was born from that line who would once again wreak havoc upon alteans--a commander with an almighty grudge against the supposed wrong that the moon elves had committed. that commander’s name was sendak.

Modern-day Galra perspective

[TW racism]

once there was a band of noble warriors seeking to colonize other worlds for the glorious name of the galra empire. since they came from a desert, they naturally sought out other deserts to colonize first, and found one on the planet altea. this desert was inhabited by near-naked brown-skinned savages in face paint and loincloths who had, instead of a language, strings of incomprehensible garble. the warriors drew their swords and cut down massive swathes of these savages, who had nothing more than simplistic bows and arrows with which to defend themselves. the galra had the option to conquer them and make them their slaves, but they were so pathetic that the warriors did not even find them worth subjugating. so they moved on to conquer newer, better worlds, leaving the savages to squat forever in their anarchistic squalor. the end.

(wow, that was really fucking painful to write.)

#daibathuzai; language of my fathers. || GALRA #mea altea; the meaning of home. || ALTEANS #va alvae ano tea; the world that shapes us. || WORLDBUILDING

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