#bucky is not a villain | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ronearoundblindly · 11 months

Text

Time and Tines (1/3)

Plans (see series)

Steve Rogers x Villain!Reader for @sweeterthanthis's Bittersweet Symphony Writing Challenge

Can’t change the way we are, One kiss away from killing. —Bishop Briggs, River

Summary: Steve meets the mysterious woman staring at him from across the room.

Warnings for vague injuries, mention of needles, manipulation/brainwashing, SEMI-DARK fic (like I've read worse but it ain't sunny, folks). MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY. This work has heavy themes unsuitable for minors. There is plenty else to read on my Light Masterlist if this is not your cup of tea! WC 3.6k

The event isn’t overly loud, but the lights are lower and he is surrounded by people. Steve isn’t fond of crowds, not when he’s not working, not when the event is actually meant to be fun for him. He isn’t Captain America right now. He isn’t the center of attention. He isn’t bothering to mingle. Instead, he’s chosen to humor a long-winded medical rant from the Avenger’s resident doctor of the past half-year.

Salvatore Avani enlightens Steve on several ways he can assess and replicate Erskine’s serum without taking a drop of any super soldier’s blood. It would be an interesting project if Steve hadn’t heard it all before, over and over, from every hopeful doctor and scientist to cross his path. At least Steve gets to be out of his suit for a while and…in another suit, though this one is significantly more forgiving to his stance and skin.

“You see, Captain, your strength can be wielded for so much more than fighting. It could give safety and security to people working unmechanizable jobs,” Dr. Avani points out.

“Not sure that’s a word, sir, but I understand.” Steve swirls whisky around in his tumbler, ice long melted, and wishes—not for the first time—that alcohol still had an effect on him. “A certain amount of modernization does protect those same workers from danger…and no one had to be dosed with anything,” he concludes before emptying the glass in hand.

As Avani opens his mouth to retort, a weight lands on Steve’s shoulder.

“Sorry, Doc,” Bucky interrupts, “just a quick word.”

“Of course, gentlemen.” The doctor turns back around to the bar to order himself another cocktail.

Bucky leans to whisper in Steve’s ear.

“So, punk, we got a situation at three o’clock.”

His whole body tenses, which doesn’t look all that different because Steve has excellent posture, but he deposits the finished glass on the counter and looks over his right shoulder past his friend.

Eyes. Intense and focused eyes meet his before darting down. A few people meander in the space between but you’re all Steve can see for a long moment.

“There it is,” Bucky mutters in recognition.

“Did you just make me look at a dame across the room?” Steve runs a hand over his freshly shaven law and hisses. “Jerk.”

“Uh, that dame’s been staring at you for a solid twenty minutes, but you weren’t noticing. You’re welcome.”

Steve lowers his head, suppressing a grin as best he can and glancing again to his right.

You’ve turned away. You’re fiddling with a glass of clear, bubbly liquid. Vodka soda? Gin and tonic? Those are Steve’s first guesses, but he can’t tell which since both lemon and lime wedges float above the ice.

“Two of whatever she is having,” Bucky asks the bartender helpfully, clapping a pat of encouragement on Steve’s back.

The man behind the bar gives a quizzical look and then shrugs.

Buck winks at him as Steve heads for your high-top table. No one else stands around you. No rings on the hand beside your drink. No way you don’t know he’s coming over even with your eyes down.

“Hi, mind if I join you?”

You smile without looking up. “Only if you brought gifts.” Your voice is small, a little shyer than Steve would expect from someone brazen enough to watch him that long from afar, but he sets his offering on the table anyway.

“I do,” he replies softly, matching your tone, “although what it is is a mystery to me.”

Still smiling, you drain your original glass quickly and confess, “Sierra Mist.”

Steve sucks air through pearly white teeth. “Yikes. More of a 7-Up man myself.”

“Go figure. Captain America has brand loyalty.”

He fails to stop the burst of laughter punched from his chest. It doesn’t scare you though. He’s actually pleased it seems to relax you. He sets his own hand on the table approximately an inch from yours.

“Touché.”

A faint tremor rolls through that hand but stops after you make a fist and release it.

Steve just starts saying random things that come to mind, and shockingly, it works.

Conversation flows for while as he notices that your dress straps don’t stay put very well and there is a barely visible seam at your hairline. Why you would need to wear a wig, he has no idea. He finds himself almost compelled to say your natural hair is perfect, just like you.

And this is why Steve doesn’t let himself out much.

During one comment regarding the other guests, he sneaks a peek over at Bucky—still beside Avani—and is flashed a thumbs up which he immediately hopes you did not see.

Chatting continues.

Steve isn’t a good flirt, but it seems he’s getting lucky with little lines tonight. He’s willing to push his luck.

“Well, after all this sweetness, maybe we should dance off some energy.” Yet sugar, like alcohol, has no discernible effect on Steve Rogers.

“Oh, no. That’s not necessary. I’m a miserable dancer.” You lift your bejeweled clutch up alongside your lemon-lime soda. “Besides how would I carry it all?”

“Well, if they’d make dresses with fuller skirts like they used to,” Steve teases, pushing his half-full glass aside, “you wouldn’t have that problem. The world regressed that way. Real shame.”

“Not a fan of form-fitting gowns?” you cock your head with wide eyes.

Steve’s gaze snaps to his shoes, hoping to choke off the heat rising in his cheeks. It only chokes his words. “Oh, oh god, no. They’re lovely. I meant, ya know, pockets and…I just—I didn’t want anything to stop you.“

“Me neither.”

You take him in with warm assessment and one last evaluation of the room, tucking your lip between your teeth briefly. “You’re in luck,” you add with a laugh. “I’m about to blow your mind, Captain.”

He watches you open the clasp, fish around inside the tiny bag—barely an envelope, really, but Steve learned from Natasha that ladies can hold a scary amount in those things,— and pull out a silvery length like a party trick from the minuscule confines. The new strap allows you to toss the purse over your shoulder.

You present the transformation like it’s a superpower.

“Nifty,” Steve coos.

You nod an acceptance of his awe. “I am nothing if not prepared.”

“And now—“ he offers his hand again “—out of excuses. Bucky tells me I am ‘a sight to behold’ and not in a good way. Shall we prove him right in solidarity?”

You head to the open floor, guided by Steve’s lead. “Not gonna try to prove him wrong?”

He swings you around to face him. “How would I always win as Cap if I bet like that?”

You hum while Steve settles a hand over the satin at your waist. “Picking your battles, huh?” Free and delicate hands land at his shoulders before one smooths down his sleeve, your eyes never leaving his. “And I’m a fight waiting to happen?”

He gets lost for a few bars until he shows his true colors and winces.

“Well, my toes are fighting with yours, clearly.”

But you simply laugh.

Steve’s brain turns over the steps and his apologies and then finally lands on a good line way after the fact. “Or, no, wait, I’ve got it now.” He squares his shoulders a little more and deepens his voice, comically.

“You’re worth fighting for.”

The snort huffed in his face is perfect, the grin that splits your painted lips over shiny white teeth blinding and well worth his efforts.

“Oh wow. See!” He earns a featherlight slap to the chest. “You do have your charming moments, Captain Rogers.”

“Steve, please—“ he fakes leading you off the floor “—and could we go repeat that in front of—“

“—the extremely grumpy man gripping a beer bottle?” Your sights land across the room toward the bar. “I don’t know, Steve. Your critic looks pretty…something.”

Steve frowns when he sees Bucky. As his friend speaks with Dr. Avani, Bucky’s face pinches solid as stone, overly serious beside the doctor’s casual body language. Buck indeed looks pissed for no reason.

Steve squints in apology. “He’s not—that’s just—I promise he’s not like that—“

Where’s that teasing joy from a minute ago?

He contemplates that still when your hands release him, and his focus snaps back.

“I need to use the ladies’ room anyway,” you shrug, rubbing a palm up and down your bare arm.

“And then fireworks?” Steve inserts hopefully, almost removing his suit jacket right then to drape over your shoulders. He sounds like an excited schoolboy, and he’s again glad that Bucky is far enough away not to know how obvious he’s being.

You smile, a graceful tug at the dark, matte lipstick sculpted over your full—Rogers. Then a little nod is all you offer before turning to the hall, bag bouncing at your hip on its magic chain.

Steve watches you go, meandering over to Bucky while glancing in your last known direction, until his friend grunts to get his attention.

Avani is gone, but Buck’s face remains sour.

“What on earth did Doc say? Some intel for a mission?” Steve’s only half-curious and fully-distracted though.

His friend just waves off the mood. “Where’s your girl?”

“She’s not…” Steve shakes his head.

“Fine. Where’s your girl for the night?” Bucky raises one eyebrow.

“You know that sounds even worse now than it did back then, right?”

“Well?” Bucky looks around inquisitively.

“Powder her nose—” Steve smirks with rosy cheeks “—then watching the light show.”

He gets a solid smack between his shoulders and a proud nod.

Steve tries to remain patient, he really does, but after a few minutes and nearly every guest settled into their own viewing spot across the long balcony, he checks back over his shoulder.

Nothing.

He excuses himself from Bucky’s side and wanders toward the hallway.

Yes, he knows he’ll look too interested and a bit stalker-esque, but he doesn’t want to miss the show—he doesn’t want you to miss the show with him. There’s gonna be this beautiful display in the sky and you’ll be engrossed enough that he can just look at the changing colors glow across your…

What?!

Around one corner of the wall, Steve sees a foot, one shiny, brown men’s dress shoe, and then another. Someone’s kneeling—shaking if rolling toes are any indication—and then there you are standing over him.

“Doctor Avani?” Steve croaks, watching you raise a syringe and needle high over the man’s head.

You ignore Steve’s arrival.

The doctor’s eyes don’t break from you as he shrieks, “Captain, she’s mad. She—“

“How dare you? Bastard,” you bite out, heaving your weapon at the doctor’s exposed throat as Steve lunges forward.

It punctures the thick, luxurious navy fabric of Steve’s suit, and he feels the slight swelling pressure of liquid entering his forearm.

You release your grip, eyes wild and teeth bared. Gone is the sweet and serene woman with whom he shared a drink and danced.

The syringe stays lodged in Steve’s flesh as he pushes the doctor aside to shield him, but it’s too late for you.

Bucky followed behind him and now wraps your arms behind your back while you struggle to inch toward Avani, spitting insults.

“What was it?” Bucky demands. “What’s in there? What poison?”

Steve rips the needle out, checking it for any clues.

With a scowl, your fierce gaze stays on the doctor.

“Ask him. It’s his brand of suffering.”

Steve watches behind the two-way mirror for a while, deciding how to approach you. After chatting with you for the better part of an hour at the event, he still knows absolutely nothing about you. Every single piece of your preliminary file is news to him. He has to start from scratch, which is, ironically, what you are trying to do to the seam of your wig when he finally enters the interrogation room.

“Tea or water?” Steve sets down the cups.

You stop fidgeting for a beat. “Water is fine. Thank you.”

Polite. You stabbed him with a needle, injected him with an unknown substance, and you’re polite about it? He doesn’t understand the nonchalance. If you meant to kill Dr. Avani, then why aren’t you upset that you failed?

With your hands cuffed and the chain laced through a handlebar built into the table, it’s an awkward strain on your neck. You shove your shoulder high and pulse your head back and forth. Your wrists are thin, thin enough that one good, hard pull might actually snap one.

Polite and uncomfortable. Steve figures showing some courtesy might loosen your tongue.

He unlocks the cuffs and places the water in easy reach, keeping the tea for himself.

He sits and you sip. It’s peaceful when it shouldn’t be.

Avani has no clue who you are or what you want, but Steve couldn’t get many answers during the chaos that ensued after your attack. His own heart rate skyrocketed for a few minutes before normalizing. Otherwise, he’s fine.

He tilts the tea in your direction.

“Here’s hoping you didn’t waste truth serum on me,” he cheers. “Might be the only drug completely useless both after and before Erskine’s formula.”

You’re amused, a smirk lifting fading, dark lips. “Ah yes. Good, honest Captain America.”

“To a fault.”

“No.” Your seriousness stops him cold, and Steve’s smile fades. “It’s not a fault. You’re just rare.”

You value honesty. He can work with that.

“Is that why you chose a drug specifically for the doctor? You didn’t want to harm anyone else, even by accident?”

That shuts you down instead. Steve’s jumped too far, too fast. He’s not allowed to use the same easy tone as before this mess. Maybe he should have found some 7Up…

Silence descends until broken by your heavy swallows of water.

You’re staring down at your reflection in the table’s surface.

“I love stainless steel,” you mutter to no one in particular. “It’s like diffusion. I almost look normal.”

“You mean because you look different?” Steve pulls out your ID found in that small purse. “Why don’t you look ‘normal?’”

You shrug, finally dislodging the precarious strap and it dangles down your arm. “Lost weight.”

“And the hair?��

He was right. Your natural hair in the photo is beautiful. Why the hell are you wearing a wig? If it were obscuring your identity, he imagines you would know not to carry around a real ID.

“Time” is your only answer.

You’re skirting around the truth, lying by omission, waiting for the exact right questions which Steve doesn’t know yet, so he asks something for peace of mind, something that will tell him how long to play this game. “Are you gonna be honest with me?”

Your answer comes easily enough. “Are you gonna be helpful to me?”

Simple. Straightforward. Cutting. It’s said with sorrowful eyes.

He can’t promise anything when he doesn’t know why. “If your purpose is to kill a man then, no, I can’t help you with that.”

Your empty cup lands on the table with a light tonk.

“Maybe I’ll wait until someone who can help walks through that door.”

“In this situation, I believe I’m what’s known as the ‘good cop,’” Steve sighs. “Don’t think you want to dance with the ‘bad cop.’ He’s pretty annoyed he didn’t peg you for an assailant first.”

Nothing about your demeanor changes, not a flinch, not a blink. “Good thing I don’t want to dance with him.”

“He’s not much of a talker either. I’d be a better—“

“I didn’t say I’d talk to him either.”

Steve leans on his elbows, splaying wide across the table. “Just tell me your story. I am here to listen.”

“That makes this sound like a first date.”

“Bucky would likely agree—“ he snorts “—and he’d make a point to say this is going about as well as any date I’ve been on this century. Please,” Steve tries again, “ talk to me.”

There’s a long pause. Your intense gaze remains steady. Whatever your reasons, they don’t strain your moral fortitude. You are a believer, faithful to this unknown cause.

Carefully, quietly, you respond. “It’s not my story to tell. Ask your doctor.”

“If it’s not your story, where are the others? Can they tell it? Are they alive?”

Steve is more perceptive than you counted on judging by your slight head shake.

You flop yourself backward in the seat.

Steve was right. It’s not a what you act for, it’s a who. And they are dead.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he says earnestly.

This—that simple sentiment—gets the greatest reaction so far. Your lip twitches, and you shimmy against the hard chair. You scratch at your wig again, before your focus returns to the table. There are tears welling in your eyes.

No one has said that before now, he realizes. How long has it been since they passed? Why are you the only mourner? Why aren’t you moving on?

Suddenly, irritation stirs in Steve, and he can’t believe how stubborn you’re being when he is your best option. He is the only one that will have this soft spot for you, the only one who truly wants to help because he truly wants to know why.

“So you’re avenging,” he bursts, tossing his arms out, dramatically looking around the bland room.

Protocol dictated they take you to the nearest precinct for questioning. Only if you were enhanced, only if you had special abilities would you be transported all the way to the compound. So on his night off, while attending a party that actually entertained him for once, you’ve shown up with a syringe that doesn’t do anything and made him miss the fireworks. You’ve made him lose time being content, a rare gift in his line of work.

Steve is frustrated, to say the least. He stands to pace his side of the table.

“Avenging, huh? Gosh, I wish I knew anything about that… anyone in this building even… wherever will we find someone who understands?”

“You don’t do sarcasm very much, do you?” you snip, energy level remaining low compared to his spiked bluster. “I’d like to tell ‘bad cop’ what a terrible dancer you are now. He’s not going to be surprised you made me cry, is he? That’s probably normal, too.”

“Surprised? No.” Steve knocks on the mirror, sick of playing, sick of being wrong, sick of choosing unwisely. “How could he be when he’s been listening this whole time?”

You’re trapped, but you aren’t acting like a caged animal. Something is…off, and Steve realizes he’s too close to the situation—ridiculous as that may be—after just two hours of knowing you. His best friend will have better luck.

Bucky opens the door a few seconds later, armed to the teeth as an intimidation tactic.

It’s disconcerting that your expression brightens once a man sporting three guns and—counting the hidden few—eight knives enters the room. That’s got Steve’s attention.

“So she’s giving you trouble?” Bucky mutters.

He’s grateful Buck doesn’t go the ‘you sure can pick ‘em, Rogers’ or ‘better luck next millennium’ route. Steve shakes his head.

You itch at your wig, face twisted, and glance up at Steve.

“May I take this off?”

Still polite. The niceties are actually making his blood boil at this point because he does not get it yet.

“Fine,” he snaps, rolling his eyes when Bucky purses his lips at Steve’s tone.

“Listen, doll, I think the best course of action is to let you stew in here for a while. When you’re ready to tell us what you know, then—“

“Oh, I can tell you what I know now,” you say casually, pulling out bobby pin after bobby pin to tuck between your teeth. “I know the protocol for a low-level threat like myself is the nearest local law enforcement facility, I know that—due to an unfortunate instance of food poisoning from a birthday cake earlier today—most of this precinct is empty. I know that all three of you would prefer to incapacitate your targets rather than kill them.”

You set the little pile of pins down on the table by your undone chain, pulling a hair comb from the back of your wig to finally release it.

“There’s only two of us here,” Steve says in confusion.

“No.” You point the forked hair comb at Bucky and push yourself out of the chair. “Winter’s in there.”

Before the words can even register, you slam the tines of the tuning fork against the edge of the steel table. The noise is piercing and specific.

Steve covers his ears, but Bucky doesn’t move. He can’t turn away from you.

“Restrain him,” you order, “and get me out of here.”

“Buck, wait—“

The vibranium arm threatens to crush Steve’s windpipe as the force slides him up the mirrored wall.

The Winter Soldier’s cold, vacant grey eyes watch as Steve’s vision fades to black, and Steve wonders how the hell he could be so wrong.

Then it’s quiet and he wonders no more.

A/N: This story is a doozy, gang, but I promise, explanations are ahead!

[Next Part] [preview]

Taglist (please let me know if you want added or removed): @supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp @darsynia

[Main Masterlist]

#steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #villain!reader #bittersweet symphony writing challenge #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x you #steve rogers angst #winter soldier bucky barnes #captain america fanfiction #captain america x you #captain america x reader #captain america angst #time and tines

263 notes · View notes

dear-ao3 · 10 months

Note

I assume you like to read fanfiction

see. i do. but only sometimes. when the vibes are correct. which is approximately every 3 months for a 6 month period. but when the vibes hit i want One Very Specific Genre (angst with hurt/comfort) and the problem is that all the fics in the fandom i most like i have already read. ive read the good ones, ive read the bad ones, ive read the weird ones. (this is what happens when there's only 300 fics in your fandom)

so i do this absolutely unhinged thing. where i pick a fandom at random that i know like only the most basic things about (like the characters names or the most popular ship) and i read through the whole tag. yes. the whole tag. for fun. having no idea what any of it means. its fun and it keeps you on your toes. i also now know weird fandom specific knowledge for a wide variety of fandoms that i have no interest in being in.

#not a tag #from saph #assume things about saph #i think this makes me evil #kind of villain core of me #one time i got REALLY bored and read THE ENTIRE clint x bucky tag AND THEN the entire steve x bucky tag #it took me a good 8 months #sometimes i still think about them

235 notes · View notes

kayvsworld · 4 months

Text

imagine if the mcu was good

#sorry i had fatws on while drawing and got mad again lrjhglkjfhlgjk #hate hate hate that when bucky's the macguffin thing to rescue/fight over he can be a victim who bad things Happened to #but when he has to be a Guy With Lines they're like. oops he was a villain actually yeah he uhhhh has to be REDEEMED #he DID the bad things it was HIM he has trauma about the things he DID and lets not talk about what was done to him hahahahahaha #fuck off! fuck off! they put the winter soldier in onscreen therapy and did nothing with it fuck off!#they're just not interested in telling any story about anything or anyone and it's so tiring. reset the universe to 2014 and leave me alone #kayvswords

65 notes · View notes

samwontshare · 1 year

Text

My favorite part about comic Bucky is that he’s like “What if I kill this bad guy just a little bit?”

And Sam and Steve are always like BUCKY NO LEAVE IT, GO LAY DOWN

#bucky barnes #you leave him alone for five seconds he’ll bring you a dead super villain right on the door step #616 Bucky

435 notes · View notes

possibleplatypus · 1 year

Text

@luna-rainbow I didn't want to derail OP's original point, just wanted to say again how impressed I am that Bucky never gave in to Hydra, not in 70 years of torture; he never worked for them willingly. They had to electrocute him, use trigger words, drugs, beatings, brainwashing, freezing, and biochemical mind control (via experimentation on Bucky himself, if the implication from the Black Widow movie is to be believed) to get him to work for them. And after all that, they still never trusted him completely (see: all the guns trained on Bucky when he swiped that technician away while they were repairing his arm in CATWS), because they knew that, in his right mind, Bucky would never obey them. (Heck he still chose to save Steve before he knew who he really was 🥺) And he was still the best super soldier they had 🤣😭

#mcu #bucky barnes #marvel meta #victim and survivor not a villain

380 notes · View notes

amarriageoftrueminds · 11 months

Note

maybe it's bc I grew up seeing (and can still see from the outside) how cis men play/joke/fake gayness as a display of domination but yet all somehow knew to avoid actual gayness like the plague (bc the it's so real how cishets manage to know what we are b4 we ourselves do) but I see that exact same "locker room" idea of playing gayness for laughs (usually by violating of sexual boundaries) + treating actual gay love like an unmentionable replicated by the cishets making media

like, look at marvel's iron man thor and gotg movies littered with writing that might nominally be considered "gay" jokes abt men being placed in sexual situations each other (again, often by laughing at the idea of sexual assault/nonconsensual sexualization) but cishet norms don't consider this gay in any real sense. it's the "accepted" way of portraying "gayness" in a way that signals to the audience that it's there to poke fun at the characters and knock 'em down a peg for comedy

This is part of why I rolled my eyes at ppl claiming queerbait at tfatws (completely not knowing what the bait part of the word means). Those "gay" moments in that show were the most classical homophobic dudebro locker room comedy that I've grown to recognize as an extension of the homophobic rough housing culture growing up among cishet boys. Every "moment" was just a Gunn-esque laugh at the male characters being degraded by being put in a position that seems gay against their consent, either by literally falling/rolling into it, by purposeful taunting by a malicious (and shoehorned) character, or literally by the force of the state(state as in governing body). it's meant to be funny in that the cishet culture the comedy comes from dictates that violating men's boundaries with a superficially "homo" act is a way to enforce hierarchy within the group. the jokes come from homophobia (which is why the creators were baffled at the idea of shipping in that show, they recognize the difference between real gayness and their homophobic lockerroom-culture jokes)

This is also why we never see anything even remotely like that between Bucky and Steve, they have genuine love for one another, the same cishet "gay" rough housing culture recognizes that between them it wouldn't be a joke, it'd be actually gay, so they avoided it like the plague. That's why we hardly ever see Bucky and Steve's canon platonic friendship portrayed, it holds actual love for one another that can't be played off by stoicism or homophobic lockerroom-style comedy. They can't do Gunnisms to make it a haha hehe, so the marvel franchise opts to not show the best friends inseparable from playground to battlefield as actual friends. Actual factual, sincere, earnest friendship between men is considered to approximate to gayness by comic book dudebro culture, so they don't show it and then blame gay ppl for "ruining" the platonic make friendships that they were too scared to show because anything more than hooking up with a bunch of interchanging women and meeting up one a year at a bar to talk about the women they've hooked up with is considered to gay by cishet men who still haven't grown out of that homophobic (& misogynistic) locker room culture.

Anon you're so right, and this is also how Tony can be cracking jokes about holding Rhodey's dick in the Avengers movie and no one in the execs room has a gay panic about needing to separate them!

Given that it also had Sharon mocking Bucky for being 'Mr America' tfatws especially seemed to revel in these nasty little homophobic digs. 😥

#long post #tfawts critical #stucky meta #mcu critical #mcu meta #steve meta #bucky meta #toAyourQ #dat's me #hey nonny #stucky #bucky barnes #written like a supernatural episode #it's like they tried to head off shipping sam/bucky at the pass...#...by making them do the thinly-veiled homophobia dudebro cliches #especially in contrast to the classic 'predatory-camp-gay-disney-villain' style zemo #who's all about the deep emotional talks and this is framed as intrusive and creepy and hannibal lectery #also there was that weird mackie quote...#where it seemed like he was being jockeyed into saying sth critical of gay shipping and then had to back-pedal..#and sth similar from sebstan more recently?? 🤔#ftatws onward really seems like a cack-handed attempt to de-gay bucky in particular...#just in time to shove him up against a bunch of women in thunderbolts presumably?? 😞#meta #steve rogers #tl;dr: they're so concerned with avoiding seeming gay they accidentally make everything seem hella gay #like it comes full circle back around to gay...#where steve and bucky's very avoidance of everything connoting typical male friendship shown everywhere else...#ends up just emphasising how very much NOT JUST FRIENDS they are #is it just me??#anon is SO SO fucking right

203 notes · View notes

harlequin-hangout · 1 year

Text

Novosibirsk

Series Masterlist | Bucky Masterlist

Characters: Winter Soldier, The Harlequin (Female OC).

Want to see pairings of these characters? Those will come in the Programmable series! check the Masterlist for updates

Warnings: Violence, mention of sexual act, degradation if you squint, and I guess programming/gaslighting? This is written more like a military file, so I'm not really sure. Let me know if you think that I should add anything

Contains: Angst, Violence, Military/Covert Operations

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: The Harlequin Initiative is being tested for the first time. Will the WInter Soldier's new subordinate be successful or will she be discarded as a failure?

Definitions

Soldat: Romanian, meaning Soldier ("sol-da")

Acoperi: Romanian, meaning "Cover" ("Ah-kah-per-ri")

Gata: Romanian, meaning "Ready" ("ga-ta")

Amestecat: Romanian, meaning "Blend In" ("a-mes-stik-ka")

Ascultă: Romanian, meaning "Obey" ("ass-kool-tuh")

Scoate: Romanian, meaning "Extract" ("squat-te")

Uşor: Romanian, meaning "Easy" ("oo-shore")

Dividers are made by me! Want some for yourself? Send me an ask!

I do not nor will I ever give permission for my writing to be copied, pasted, reposted to other sites, or edited in any way shape or form. Seriously, just don’t.

Name: James Buchannan Barnes

Alias: The Winter Soldier, Soldat

Access: Restricted

Access Level: 5

Operative: Enhanced Soldier

Soldat has proven effective and loyal. Stronger, faster, and more durable than any of his previous tests, we believe Soldat is ready to be given command. Until further notice, Soldat shall be Acoperi’s handler on all missions.

Name: Unknown

Alias: The Harlequin, Acoperi

Access: Restricted

Access Level: 5

Operative: Enhanced Assassin

Acoperi is meant to infiltrate and neutralize . Programmable to each target’s specific preferences, Acoperi has the ability to entice and separate, with no knowledge of her mission until Soldat activates the Harlequin Initiative. Acoperi is incapable of operation without a handler due to the nature of her programming, considering building subconscious trust between Handler and Assassin to improve mission efficiency.

Mission Date: November 19, 1949

Mission Location: Novosibirsk Charity Gala

Mission Target: Russian Minister of Foreign Affairs Vyacheslav Molotov

First mission test of The Harlequin (Acoperi). The Winter Soldier (Soldat) is to act as handler and return the new asset safely to base for reprogramming and reworking should the mission fail. Acoperi is to assassinate Molotov away from any witnesses. Any means necessary. Should Acoperi fail, Soldat is to complete the mission and secure Acoperi for return to base.

1600 – The assets have been removed from deep freeze.

1630 – The assets have been thawed. Soldat taken to physical, Acoperi is ready for programming.

1715 – Programming completed, both assets have been taken to the Armory.

1800 – Assets Secured, departure on schedule.

Soldat sat stoically in the vibranium transport container. This was the only peace he received, away from the prying eyes of his masters. They had taken the girl out this time, too. A man in combat gear guided the girl into the transport container with him. Her evening dress and heels looked out of place among the men in tactical gear, however her blank expression mimicked his own. He turned his head slightly, taking in her appearance for the first time. She was tall, but not tall enough to raise alarm. Her hair was swept back, styled in an elegant updo, and her makeup was tasteful. She looked harmless, alluring even. No one would ever suspect the horrors that she was designed to be capable of executing. Hydra’s perfect little chameleon, and it was his job to pull the puppet’s strings.

“Soldat.” The large man raised his eyesight to be met with a Hydra pilot. An in-ear communicator was handed to him. He allowed the device to be dropped into his hand and proceeded to secure it within his ear. The pilot leaned over the girl and placed one in her ear as well, his eyes lingering on her chest. Something in Soldat felt disgust. Feelings and thoughts were coming back, ever since the higher-ups made the decisions to only reprogram him when they were met with questions or disobedience. Soldat made a point of keeping to himself when he had these brief feelings. From somewhere outside the container, he heard voices.

“Too bad Winter Soldier in there can’t appreciate the piece of ass sitting next to him. I know she’s a weapon, but damn wouldn’t it be nice to have a night with someone like that who can’t say no?” A sneer flashed across Soldat’s face, vanishing as quickly as it appeared. These men were animals with no regard for anyone but themselves. An alarm began to blare as the door to the container sealed, leaving the assets in the pitch black save for a hazy red light. The test mission had begun.

2130 – On-time arrival.

The alarm rang through the silence again as the door to the container opened with a mechanical whir. Soldat stood, his large form causing him to have to bow his head until he stepped out of the transport container. The girl stayed absolutely still, awaiting orders. He turned, facing her.

“Acoperi.” Her head snapped up at the sound of his voice, though her face remained just as blank as before. “Gata.” She stood, standing only four inches shorter than him in her heels. Her shoes clicked on the metal as she exited the containment unit, and began to make her way towards the entrance to the charity gala. Soldat followed, breaking away as she made her way towards the other guests. His mission was to observe, and only intervene if she failed to complete her objective. Soldat scaled the wall of the building, positioning himself outside the large skylight over the building’s ballroom. As soon as he had her in his sights, he pressed the speech button on his communication device.

“Acoperi. Amesticat.” He watched her whole demeanor change instantaneously. No longer was she the rigid, militaristic form she had been in the containment unit. She moved with grace, a smile gracing her lips as she greeted dignitaries and socialites alike. Mysterious and enchanting, the new personality that Zola had programmed into her quickly endeared her to the rich, famous, and powerful. She looked so . . . so harmless. So unlike a weapon meant to bring about the destruction of the Russian Office of Foreign Affairs. He kept eyes on her as she socialized, placing herself in Molotov’s line of sight. Between the cut of her dress and the sultry look in her eyes, Molotov wouldn’t be able to resist. Right on cue, the dignitary excused himself from his conversation, making his way to Hydra’s new toy.

Katya laughed, brushing her hand over Vyacheslav Molotov’s arm. While he was quite a bit older than herself, Katya couldn’t deny that she was attracted to power. He was a heavy man with a thick mustache and a receding hairline, but his appearance was overshadowed by his influence.

“Mr. Molotov!” Katya’s voice was like a song, speaking in perfect Russian, accent barely visible. “I’m having such a good time. Would you accompany me to the dance floor?” She bit at her lower lip, hoping he caught her meaning. The dance floor now, hopefully a private room and a life of luxury later. Slipping her arm through his, she allowed him to escort and lead her. Katya was attracted to power, and she knew that men like Molotov were attracted to control. She offered him control of her movements – and by extent, her body– as they glided across the dance floor. As the music died, Molotov leaned forward, pressing his lips to the crook of her neck. She pressed her chest forward, her breasts squishing against his chest. She could hear his breath hitch, and his hands came to rest on the small of her back. She was just about to pull away when she froze, a gruff, mysterious voice crackled to life in her ear.

“Acoperi. Ascultă.”

Soldat watched as the girl’s form stiffened, then relaxed again. Given ten minutes, everything would be over. On his command, she began to manipulate Molotov into place, working him away from the rest of the guests and towards the private powder rooms. Soldat watched as the lecherous old man groped at the girl’s hips, pressing his crotch against her ass as they made their way through the crowd. As the powder room door closed, he switched his focus to the device in his ear.

2254 – Target has been isolated. Harlequin is undercover and awaiting command.

Soldat could hear the girl’s breathing. Even and controlled, she was ready. As he heard Molotov begin to whisper disgusting phrases in her ear – Soldat was sure he heard the dignitary refer to the girl as “his good little whore” – he could also make out the faint rustling of fabric. It made sense, seduction was the path of least resistance to a lecher like Molotov. He waited a few minutes longer, until he could hear the old man commanding the girl to get on her knees. The sounds coming from the communicator as she took the pig of a man into her mouth sickened the small part of him that could still feel, but the situation was ideal.

“Covet. Rough. Twenty-three. Midnight. Campfire. Six. Borrow. Landing. Zero. Carrier.” As soon as Soldat spoke the last of the command phrase, the sounds ceased. The girl’s breathing evened, and he heard the click of her heels as she lifted herself back to her feet.

“Winter Soldier recognized. Harlequin is ready to comply.” Her voice was monotone with no emotion. Zola’s experiment was a success. Soldat did not hesitate. This part was as easy for him as pulling a trigger.

“Acoperi. Eliminate. No witnesses.”

The girl stepped out of the powder room, smoothing her dress. Her movements were exact as she made her way to the exit, leaving Molotov’s body to be discovered by the next occupant. Soldat descended from the roof, seating himself in the transportation container. The click of the girl’s heels alerted him to her arrival as she made her way into the helicopter. She stood in front of him, expression as blank as when they arrived. The blades roared to life as the containment unit door shut, and the hazy red light returned. Soldat rested his back against the wall. He inspected her form. She had left her first mission with no injuries and no blood staining. He was going to be giving a very favorable mission report. Her expression remained blank, but a small tear escaped the corner of her eye. Soldat frowned. Did she still have the capacity to feel? After everything Hydra put both of them through, could she still feel? He would have to – Soldat’s train of thought stopped dead in its tracks. Some little piece of humanity buried deep inside him was stirring, and for the first time in ages, Barnes made the call. This was for him to know. If she could still feel, they would do even more horrible things to her to remove all emotion. This was for him and him alone.

“Acoperi. Uşor.” He released her from the Harlequin Initiative, her form relaxing. She lowered herself to the ground, the tears falling more freely though her expression never changed. Barnes placed his vibranium hand on her head, gently stroking her hair. She rested her head on his lap and hugged his calf tight to her chest, looking for any comfort after the horrors she had just witnessed and been helpless to stop.

“ . . . Winter . . .” Barnes stiffened. Her voice was . . . different. It wasn’t the sultry Russian of Katya, nor was it the mechanical Harlequin Initiative. This was . . . This was just her. Barnes blinked, staring at the broken girl on the floor in front of him. She had executed her role perfectly, his mission had been a success. The Winter Soldier felt nothing. But Barnes . . . Barnes made a silent promise to rip apart the men who had broken their minds.

Taglist: @thomase1 @vbecker10 @ozymdias

8 notes · View notes