#char: Brock Rumlow

[gyokujyn]

A Softer World Remix Masterpost

For the Captain America: The Winter Soldier 10th Anniversary Event, I may have gone a little overboard remixing A Softer World comics in the style of @asofteravenger. Here is a comprehensive list of every remix I posted, including the rejects which did not make the cut for the original event.

CATWS 10th Anniversary Event Remixes by Day

Key 💜: Personal Favourites ⭐ : Fan Favourites

🔴 March 26th: On Your Left ◽close enough for government work [prompt: PTSD; char: bucky] ◽is this progress? [prompt: first meetings; char: steve, nat, sam] ◽when home is a person SkyMiles won't get you there [prompt: the smithsonian; char: steve, bucky] 💜who the hell is bucky? [prompt: the smithsonian; char: steve, bucky]

🔴 March 27th: Steve Rogers ◽for a treat [prompt: guilt; char: steve, howling commandos] 💜guilt will quench a fire as surely as the thawing winter [prompt: guilt; char: steve, strike team] 💜haha that's a totally normal answer to the question [prompt: fave steve quote; char: sam, steve] ◽it's what they call a catch-22 [prompt: elevator; char: steve, brock, strike team] ◽put it on the list [prompt: Steve's List; char: steve] ◽what could go wrong? [prompt: camp lehigh; char: zola]

🔴 March 28th: SHIELD ◽either way I'll be leaving you bleeding [prompt: weapons; bucky, steve] ◽i'm so sorry [prompt: compromised; char: steve, nick] ◽it is cold. [prompt: fave scene; char: bucky] 💜probably the windows too [prompt: neighbor; char: steve, sharon]

🔴 March 29th: Natasha Romanoff ◽are you? [prompt: fave nat quote; nat, pierce] 💜as soon as he's dead i can be on my way [prompt: natasha romanoff; char: nat, bucky] ◽get loved loser [prompt: disguise; char: nat, steve] ◽now i want cinnabon [prompt: mall; char: steve, strike] ◽who needs good choices anyway? [prompt: redemption; char: nat, steve]

🔴 March 30th: TWS Cast ◽and they were first mates [prompt: tws cast; char: tws cast] ◽do you think we could catch lightning in a bottle twice? [prompt: press conference; char: tws cast] ◽shh he eepy [prompt: stunts; char: tws cast] 💜try a knife flip! [prompt: stunts; char: sebastian stan]

🔴 March 31st: Sam Wilson 💜c'mon sam it was one time [prompt: wings; char: sam, bucky] ◽extra virgin [prompt: fave sam quote; char: sam, rumlow] ◽have you ever known what it's like to feel the exhilaration of really flying [prompt: sam wilson; char: sam] ◽oops sorry maria [prompt: sam wilson; char: sam, maria] ⭐the graveyard of our memories [prompt: Dept of VA; char: sam]; all our mausoleums have eyes [prompt: none (bonus); char: bucky, steve]

🔴 April 1st: HYDRA ◽and in such creative ways [prompt: fave fight; char: bucky] ◽beatings shall continue until morale improves [prompt: project insight; char: none] ◽besides what grave could hold you? [prompt: strike; char: rumlow, steve] ◽how many gunshot wounds is an orgasm? [prompt: fave fight; char: bucky, steve] ◽oh it's supposed to be enemies TO lovers [prompt: fave fight; char: bucky, steve] 💜scream for daddy [prompt: hydra; char: pierce, bucky] ◽tony only watches vanilla het porn pass it on [prompt: project insight; char: tony] 💜what kind of monster leaves the milk out on the counter? [prompt: hydra; char: pierce] ◽you don't have to be the fastest runner you just have to be faster than Project Insight [prompt: fave fight; char: rumlow, sam]

🔴 April 2nd: Bucky Barnes ◽a ghost story [prompt: ghost story; char: bucky, steve] ◽and then you remember [prompt: memories; bucky] ◽baby did you forget to take your meds? [prompt: memories; char: steve, bucky] 💜but spare the rod and spoil the child [prompt: bank; char: bucky, pierce, rumlow] ◽i kicked off bucky's world revenge tour 2k14 and all i got was half-drowned in the potomac [prompt: revenge; char: bucky, steve] ⭐i've always been an overachiever [prompt: revenge; char: steve, bucky] 💜past tense [prompt: "but i knew him"; char: steve, bucky] ◽rlb [prompt: revenge; char: bucky, steve] ◽the unpaid internship of a lifetime [prompt: bucky barnes; char: bucky, zola] ◽what gives a ghost nightmares [prompt: bucky barnes; char: bucky, steve] ◽ya gotov otvechat [prompt: bank; char: bucky]

🔴 April 3rd: Cap Quartet 💜advanced car surfing for dummies [prompt: cap quartet; char: nat, steve, sam, bucky] 💜alexa play jolene [prompt: cap quartet; char: nat, steve, sam, bucky] ◽gotta catch 'em all [prompt: cap quartet; char: bucky, nat, sam, steve] ◽hi i'm captain america [prompt: bedside vigil; char: sam, steve] ◽or a blond carnie with hearing aids and really good aim [prompt: cap quartet; char: steve, nat, sam, bucky] ◽peer pressure [prompt: fave duo; char: nat, steve] ◽some people get both [prompt: found family; char: nat, sam, steve]

🔴 April 4th: To the End of the Line ⭐but you can't seem to convince them of that [prompt: devotion; char: steve, bucky] ◽cause i'm with you til the end of the line pal [prompt: to the end of the line; char: steve, bucky] 💜i stopped remembering the exact weight of your hand and now i only know it with a knife [prompt: 1940s; char: steve, bucky] ⭐or die trying [prompt: reunion; char: bucky, steve] ◽sorry officer we'll remember to use the gag next time [prompt: helicarrier; char: steve, bucky] ◽that'll teach me [prompt: identity porn; char: steve, bucky] ◽the good news it can't be illegal if there's no word for it [prompt: fave stucky scene; char: bucky, steve] ◽the safe word is jersey [prompt: devotion; char: bucky, steve] 💜this is not what getting railed means [prompt: helicarrier; char: bucky] 💜walt disney did not prepare me for this body count [prompt: identity porn; char: steve] ◽we've had too many next times already [prompt: schoolyard to battlefield; char: bucky, steve] ◽yes even that [prompt: helicarrier; char: steve] ◽you either die young or live long enough to become the cautionary tale [prompt: devotion; char: bucky, steve]

CATWS 10th Anniversary | REJECTS!

Key 💜: Personal Favourites ⭐ : Fan Favourites

Run | Series MasterPost featuring: ◽alexa play run this town by jay-z rihanna and kanye west [char: nick] 💜alexa play run by daughter [char: nat] ◽alexa play run (beautiful things)(highsociety remix) by awolnation [char: bucky] ◽alexa play run boy run by woodkid [char: steve] ◽alexa play run by onerepublic [char: sam]

Barbershop Quartet (feat. any two+ except Stucky) | REJECTS! ◽hands off the boots [prompt: natasha romanoff] 💜he's a smooth operator [prompt: none] 💜she's gonna bite someone [prompt: disguise] ◽untitled (working title: all of it goes) [prompt: cap quartet] ◽untitled (working title: do i gotta make more romanorogers?) [prompt: none]

Bucky | REJECTS! ◽and a whole lot of UST [prompt: helicarrier] ◽untitled (working title: are u new) [prompt: bucky barnes] ◽untitled (working title: head injury) [prompt: bucky barnes]

HYDRA (Pierce, Rumlow, Zola, et al. feat. others) | REJECTS! ◽and your very own unicorn [prompt: hydra] ⭐but i knew him [prompt: "but i knew him"] ◽gotta look out for your assigned alphabet soup guy [prompt: project insight] ◽i thought this was america [prompt: none] 💜like parking in a driveway [prompt: elevator] ◽the road to hell is paved with kicking your ass [prompt: none]

Nick (feat. the Barbershop Quartet) | REJECTS! ◽untitled (working title: and AARP!) [prompt: project insight]

Steve | REJECTS! ◽and almost dead is still slightly alive [prompt: steve rogers] 💜glory [prompt: steve rogers, character bleed] ◽it is a disney property [prompt: steve rogers] ◽knock knock mf (working title: this one might send me to hell) [prompt: memories] ◽untitled (working title: elevator) [prompt: elevator] ◽untitled (working title: good work ethic) [prompt: guilt] ⭐untitled (working title: trade off) [prompt: none]

Stucky | REJECTS! 💜alexa play who wants to live forever [prompt: to the end of the line] ◽all our mausoleums have eyes (alt panel) [prompt: none (bonus panel)] ⭐body language [prompt: reunion] ⭐he's a little confused but he's got the spirit [prompt: none] 💜how it makes you a weapon [prompt: none, memories] ⭐just your hand on my body again [prompt: devotion] ◽we call this a midwest goodbye [prompt: fave fight, helicarrier] ◽untitled (working title: terrorist) [prompt: fave fight]

#marvel mcu #catws10 #a softer world #a softer avenger #remix #catws10 rejects #jyn makes stuff

[skullsandsteel]

Leo stumbles into the room blood covering the front of him, and a dozen holes riddle his torso. He chokes out Rumlow's name, before collapsing to the floor and a pool of red forming beneath him. But then suddenly the room is filled with blood. Bodies. His whole team laying dead around him, and suddenly Rumlow himself is coated in blood. The bodies look at him with soulless eyes before they start to speak to him. "Was it worth it?" "What did they cost?" "Is the cause worth all of this?" "You'll die alone now." "Alone. With nothing in a hail or fire..." The dream ends and Leo is snoring peacefully beside Brock. Hand over his bandages. But alive. [ideas from hell.]

The nightmares were getting bad again…

Brock shot bolt upright in a cold panic, heart thudding in his ears as he scrabbled for the gun he always kept close.

Instead his hands found a body- Another jolt of panic shot through him before he realized the body was warm, alive. He huffed softly, slowly coming up out of the disorienting haze of his half-awake state.

Rumlow laid a hand over Leo’s bandaged chest, just wanting to feel the soft tide and fall of the other’s breaths as he snored softly next to him.

Peaceful… Brock was jealous, honestly— He hadn’t had a peaceful nights rest in… decades. Before everything went to shit it was dreams of dead eyes and cold steel, lightning and frost; now it was of fire and darkness.

Dreaming of Strike Team Alpha wasn’t new, either- But the blood was. He shook off the dream, whisking away the suffocating scent of blood and smoke and char as he settled back into the bed— Wrapping an arm loosely over the other’s sleeping form.

#ohhhh #[littleblogofhorrors] #[Leo] #[Ideas from Hell]

[ao3feed-stevebucky]

Walking on shadows (I can't lead him back)

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/VFwEtjf

by bucky_barnes_gf

Weapons don’t think. Weapons don’t remember. Weapons don’t feel. Weapons don’t look into blue eyes and think of saltwater and cigarettes. Weapons don’t hesitate to shoot a man because the slope of his cheekbones and the flush of his lips stirred a pathetic familiarity in his charred heart.

Words: 2488, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel, Captain America (Movies)

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Steve Rogers, Alexander Pierce, Brock Rumlow, Jack Rollins, Hydra Agents

Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers

Additional Tags: Brainwashing, Gaslighting, Internal Monologue, Internal Conflict, Canon Compliant, Electrocution, HYDRA Trash Party, No Smut, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Pining, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Angst, No Fluff

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/VFwEtjf

#ao3feed #steve rogers #bucky barnes #stevebucky #stucky #steve/bucky #stevexbucky #fanfic

[marveltrumpshate]

November 2021 MTH fills part 1/2

Can you believe it’s just been one month since we announced the auction results? It feels like a lifetime! Once again, we’re thankful for everyone’s efforts in raising such a jaw-dropping donation amount as well as all the works that have come in throughout the month of November!

The best way to see all the fills that have been shared with us is our monthly roundups tag or our #MTH-fills channel on our Discord, but you can also view them through the following methods:

Our Tumblr tags: 2018, 2019, 2020, 2021

Our AO3 collections: 2018, 2019, 2020, 2021 (only has works posted to AO3)

Completed works tag list

To find specific content, use our completed works tag lists above which includes instructions on how to search for a particular character, gen or romantic relationship, universe, and fanwork type.

@aquatigermice - Black Panther, Iron Man, and Rescue masks and extra pin goodies for @ashes0909

@arabesqueangel - “Loki: Professor Supreme” (616 Loki/Strange fic where Strange refuses to let Loki become a teacher at Strange Academy, but Loki tries to get into the school anyway) for @aurorawest (MTH 2020)

Cluegirl - “Salvage Rights” (Steve/Tony A/B/O historical romance arranged marriage AU fic) for @chibisquirt (MTH 2019)

@cutecumber-flower - Art of Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow kissing in the snow for @kalika999

@dracusfyre - “By Blood” (Bucky/Tony vampire AU fic) for mystifiedgal (MTH 2020)

@gottalovev - “Like a teardrop in your palm” (Steve/Tony enemies-to-friends-to-lovers fake relationship AU fic) for @goddess47 (MTH 2020)

@humapuma - “Three Alphas Walk into a Café” (Steve/Bucky A/B/O werewolf AU fic) for @moodywolff (MTH 2020)

@jaune-chat

- “Mountain Men” (Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow camping fic) for @kalika999 (MTH 2020) - “The Shape of Hydra” (Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow The Shape of Water AU fic) for @kalika999 (MTH 2020)

@juls-art - Art of Sam and Bucky in uniform, kissing for @yavannie

Juulna/@juuls - “Soulmates & Strangers” (vignettes from a Steve/Tony secret identity soulmates AU fic with commissioned art) for @ishipallthings (MTH 2019)

@kalee60 - “Express Yourself” (post-TWS Steve/Bucky fic where Bucky learns to heal through fashion) for @fingerprintbruises (MTH 2020)

@kandisheek - “A Beast That Few Can Master” (Bucky/Tony modern Beauty and the Beast AU fic) (MTH 2020)

Li Izumi/@li-izumi - “A Little Housekeeping” (616 Peter/Wade fic in Logan's POV where Logan suspects incorrectly that Wade is a bad partner) for lastofherkind (MTH 2020)

#monthly roundup #november 2021 #mth 2019 #mth 2020 #mth 2021 #char: Brock Rumlow #char: Bucky Barnes #char: jack rollins #char: Logan #char: loki #char: Pepper Potts #char: Peter Parker #char: sam wilson #char: stephen strange #char: Steve Rogers #char: T'Challa #char: Tony Stark #char: Wade Wilson #ship: hydrahusbands #ship: stony #ship: strangeloki #ship: stucky #ship: winterfalcon #ship: winteriron #universe: 616 #universe: AU #universe: MCU #auction: art #auction: craft #auction: fic

[clintbartonruinedmylife]

Whumptober 2020 - Day 5

5. Where do you think you’re going

Clint knew that something was wrong, he just couldn’t put his finger on it. Something within SHIELD was really, really wrong. He had tried to keep an eye on it but since he was assigned to the Avengers it wasn’t easy. Most of his time he was in Stark… no… Avengers Tower, then in the newly built HQ. 

But then Steve literally destroyed SHIELD because it was HYDRA infested and Nat threw all the secret SHIELD files into the internet. 

He had to get away as fast as possible. If the world found out about his past… they would throw him into jail before he could say ‘hi’. 

Fortunately he still had a few safehouses no one knew about, not even Natasha. He vanished when Nat had to appear in front of the senate. 

In Massachusetts he ran into a group of former SHIELD agents, one of the STRIKE teams. He knew them. Rumlow, Rollins, Keller, Davis. He had just tried to sell his bike to a used car dealer when they appeared. Rollins saw him first and talked into his comm.

“Fuck!” Clint cursed and looked around. The others tried to surround him but Clint had trained with them often enough, he knew how they worked. They had their hands on their guns but they haven’t drawn them yet. After all, there were still other people around them. 

Clint still had his helmet and when Keller was close he threw it. Of course they expected something like this but the tiny moment of surprise was enough for Clint to break through and jump behind one of the cars on the yard. 

“Barton!” Rumlow bellowed. “Give up! You can’t escape!” 

“Wanna bet?” Clint called back and lay down on the ground to crawl under one of the cars. He moved fast, crawled out into the open a few seconds later and sneaked behind a pick-up truck. Davis was close, he could see him looking under the cars and Clint used his chance. He moved, grabbed the man from behind and before he could call for help Clint had snapped his neck. 

He peered around the corner before he grabbed the body and threw it onto the truck bed. His gun - he had drawn it in the meantime - lay on the ground and Clint took it. 

As quiet as possible he sneaked through the rows of cars. 

“Fuck,” he cursed quietly when he saw Keller coming in his direction. Silently he took out the magazine of the gun, took out a bullet, placed it on the ground and flicked it under the cars. It made a faint sound on the ground. 

He peered again and saw Keller searching for the sound and that was distraction enough for Clint to reach the fence. He climbed and jumped over it and managed to duck behind a dumpster only a moment before a few bullets flew in his direction. 

“Barton!” Rumlow yelled but Clint ignored him. 

He was in a backstreet and he could see the street from his position. Unfortunately, they would see him, too. He peeked over the rim of the dumpster, took the gun and shot Keller. The guy dropped down and both, Rollins and Rumlow, looked in his direction… and Clint ran. 

He stopped as soon as he arrived on the street, walked at a normal pace and went into the next store. He could see Rumlow and Rollins outside, searching for him and Clint grabbed a few pants and went to the changing booth. He stayed there for a few moments longer but when the shop assistant looked at him suspiciously he shrugged and nodded at the entrance door.

“I just saw my ex outside,” he said and she nodded understandingly and let him stay for a while. 

He bought the pants when he left, he stole a car and left the city, he abandoned the car after Rumlow and Rollins found him somewhere in a godforsaken small town. He ran into them a few more times till he found out that they had bugged him. 

Clint left back everything. He bought new clothes, new shoes, a new phone… and left everything else, even his bow. He traveled by bus, he hitched a ride every now and then or he simply walked. 

And then he could finally see it. In the middle of nowhere, surrounded by trees and fields… and nothing else. The farm. His family’s farm. He was back where everything started. He was home. 

#whumptober2020 #no.5 #on the run #avengers #fic #minor char. death #clint barton #hawkeye #brock rumlow #jack rollins

[smileytiger28]

who wants to teach me how to make fancams so i can make exclusively ironic ones for characters that nobody likes

#i like the idea of making a twitter acct of a bunch of fancams but theyre all for chars like #h*yw*ard or like brock rumlow or gilderoy lockhart and stuff #like characters that nobody in their right mind would make fancams for #ykwim #tiger roars 🐯

[youknowwhatted]

Vice part 2

Thomas Shelby is expanding his company to America, Miami to be specific. He's already taken out who he thought was the biggest player. Little did he know, it's you who runs the South and you're looking for a new partner.

Pairings: Thomas Shelby x reader, Brock Rumlow x reader (past), Bucky Barnes x reader (past), Thor Odinson x reader

Warnings: 18+, mentions of death, cannon level violence, swearing, angst, smut, use of pet the name Kitten, soft!dark!Thor, slight D/S relationship, mentions of pussy slapping, choking. Minors DNI Lmk if I missed anything

You looked out over the city, the glow of downtown Miami below illuminating your dimly lit office. Your white blazer draped over the top of your char, abandoned hours ago, leaving you in a hot pink strapless top and your white, wide leg pants. A glass of gin in your hand as you waited for your distributor.

Thor walked through the door without so much as knocking.

"Hello gorgeous," he said in his usual jovial tone.

You rolled your eyes, taking in his apparence in the reflection on the window. Cargo shorts, Hawaiian shirt, leather bracelets adorning his wrists. He looked exactly like he did when you were eighteen, aside from a few more scars and tattoos.

"How nice of you to dress up for me," your voice laced with sarcasm.

"You used to love my style," he mocked offence, coming up behind you and placing a hand on your hip. His 6.4' frame towering over you.

"What's the total for this week?" You asked, taking another sip of gin as you continued to stare out the window.

"Seven-point-five," he answered, leaning his head down to brush his lips against the side of your neck, his stubble tickling your soft skin, "already given to Curtis to scrub."

You were used to his flirtatious touches, though he wouldn't have dared touch you in front of Rumlow when he was alive.

"You're down eight percent. Why?"

"Some FBI cunt, Rask. He's putting heat on my dealers," he grunted, bringing his right hand up to your bare shoulder.

"Find his pressure point," you instructed.

You saw his reflection nod. A silence setteling over you two.

Thor let out a humm as he began brushing his fingers down your arm.

"What," you asked, sounding annoyed.

"I was just thinking, our Queen needs a new husband," he winked, "and it should be me, not that new fucker," he finished with a growl.

"Word travels fast," you raised a brow, knocking back the last if your gin, "No."

You turned away, easing out of his hold, setting your glass down and leaning against the edge of your desk.

Thor scoffed, "don't be like that, Y/n," he followed you towards your desk, "We used to be so good together, Kitten. We were in love once."

"We were eighteen and horny, Thor. Hardly what I'd call a love story," you said before picking up your vape and taking a pull.

"I seem to recall several times I made you scream my name while you were married to that prick," he persisted, swiping the vape from you hand and taking a pull before joining you on the desk.

"I'm not going to marry you, Thor. This is about business. You have nothing to offer that I don't already have."

"And what does this Shelby man have to offer you?" He asked, trailing his finger tips up your thigh.

"A new product," you said as you plucked up his hand and placed it back in his lap, glancing down at the skull tattoo on his right index finger that matched the one on yours. "I'll need you to take on his next shipment and move it quickly," you finished, looking back out over the city

Leaning in to you he brought his lips to your pulse point, "And how does Barnes feel about this?" his voice dangerously low.

You could feel his breath fan over the shell of your ear, his left hand sliding across your collarbone and wrapping around your neck as your eyes closed. Fuck if this man didn't know how to get under your skin.

"He'll come around," you words came out breathy. You could feel his rings pressing into your skin as he squeezed tighter. It had been too long since you'd felt his touch and you clenched your thighs together to quell the rising heat in your core.

"What's my cut," he whispered before he took your lobe between his teeth.

Your chest rose with a sharp inhale, "ten percent."

"You're holding out on me, y/n," he tutted, "Twenty."

"Twelve" you countered, letting out a soft moan.

"Fifteen," his hand squeezing tighter around your neck before letting go, trailing his fingers down to the swell of your breasts. "And you give me what I've been craving since your cunt of a husband met his end," he growled before he ripped down your top and brought his mouth to your breast, swirling his tongue and bringing your pebbled nipple between his teeth, making your breath come out in huffs.

You had planned on giving him fifteen all along, but you liked to bring out his domineering nature during negotiations. He was the only one you had allowed to have any power over you in any way. Demanding and degrading you as he would choked you while his cock was buried deep inside you, or making you call out his name while he slapped your pussy so hard you cried as you came. Maybe you had loved Thor when you were young. But now, all men were just a means to an end to you.

Thor moved to stand between your legs, grabbing the back of your hair and forcing you to look up at him, "Whaddya you say, Kitten?"

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, taking in his lust filled eyes, the rough pad of his thumb brushing over your nipple, his erection pressing into you stomach.

"Fifteen. Now fuck me, Thor."

~

"So, who is she?" Polly asked while tapping her cigarette over the glass ashtray.

Thomas, Arthur, John, and Polly stood around the kitchen island in Thomas's penthouse. The night life of Miami below glowing in the window.

"Brock Rumlow's widow, Y/f/n Y/l/n," Thomas said, arms folded as he leaned against the door frame. "She has connections for the docks, distribution, launders all her cash through the clubs and casinos owned by Dixie Mafia. They call her the Queen of the South."

"So Michale was wrong about Rumlow being the heavy hitter," Polly stated.

"No," he groused, "I think he was just half of the picture." He pushed off the door frame pulling out a cigarette from his custom case, rubbing it along his full lips before lighting it.

"What does she want with you?" John piped in, playing with the toothpick in his mouth.

Thomas exhaled the smoke as he spoke, "She told me she runs the Dixie Mafia now that Rumlow's dead, but she needs a new figurehead to keep her status."

"And do you believer her?" Polly asked.

"We'll find out tomorrow." Thomas sighed, "Arthur, take Finn and go to Ms. Y/l/n's club downtown. Don't ask to many questions. I'm sure she already knows all our faces. John, go home to your wife, eh," He said, pointing his cigarette at him.

Thomas leaned his hands against the island as his brothers shuffled out.

Polly stood rooted to the spot, worry etched on her face, "What're you going to do?"

"I don't know, Pol."

A/N: Rask is Martin Freeman's character from the show Startup on Netflix. He'll make appearances later. Likes, comments, and R/B's appreciated ❤️

#vice #thor x reader #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders #bucky barnes #peaky blinders/marvel crossover #mcu fanfiction #noel writes

[wkemeup]

Vengeful Spirits┊By Any Other Name

summary: A year after the fire and the end of Hydra, Brock Rumlow's ghost is still haunting you. pairing: bucky x reader chapter word count: 10.7k warnings: PTSD symptoms, nightmares, canon level violence, angst angst angst!!, it's a revenge story babyyyy a/n: This is an alternative future that you can chose to include in your own version of BAON canon or consider as a 'what if' timeline. It was really fun to explore this side of the story and jump back into this world again so I hope you enjoy! ❤️

🌹 series masterlist <- catch up here first! 🌹

You couldn’t breathe beyond the stench of gasoline and cigar smoke. With wrists bound and tied to an old, wooden chair through frayed electrical wires, the exposed copper dug into your skin, leaving behind thin lines of ruined flesh in their wake. Blood dripped down your fingertips and onto the carpet at your feet. Tiny red dots marked into the pattern.

Along the walls, you could hardly make out the distorted image of near empty shelves, broken pots, and your books discarded amongst the soil and ruin. Pools of gasoline leaked into the hardwood floors, soaked into the pages of century old novels; ink bleeding through the paper.

“You are Hydra, baby!” Brock’s disembodied voice echoed throughout the room. You flinched at the sound as if it could cut through as sharp as the wires on your wrists. Your eyes scanned the room to find it empty, and still, his voice lingered down the aisles of your library, his presence haunting you.

“No,” you choked out, throat closing under the weight of the lump building there. Tears pressed against your cheeks. Gasoline burned in your nose.

A figure emerged from the shadows – a faint outline of the man you married, the man you despised, his face hidden by the darkness clouding around him. Still, you could smell the liquor on his breath – always on his breath.

“You are not worthy of redemption.”

You tugged at the bindings on your wrists, adrenaline thunderous in your heart. You wondered if it might push past your chest and spill out onto your lap. If your blood would meet the gasoline at your feet and blend into one.

“Stop it,” you warned, though the fear was evident in your voice.

Brock did not relent as he stepped forward, the shadows clinging so tight to his body you could not make out his face. “You are and always will be Hydra to those feds...”

A sob broke through you as he approached. You had no will to fight, no source of strength to draw upon. All you could feel was the blinding terror coursing deep into your veins with his every step; with each squeak of the floor boards, with every footprint coated in potted soil and gasoline. The cigar hung loosely at his fingertips, ready to set fire to the room around you.

Brock parted his lips, his voice slippery as a viper, “...and they will leave you to BURN!”

His hands slammed down on your wrists, his face only inches away. Your heart stopped beating; eyes blown wide. A single touch of moonlight broke through the shadows on Brock’s face and what remained was a glimpse of horror. Charred skin, ruined flesh. Raw and red and bubbling at the surface. Blistered and oozing.

The mutilated scars around his lips slithered into a sickening grin, his breath hot as flame against your skin. He dropped the cigar. The room went up in smoke. In flame and fire and fury.

A world away, you jolted forward, throat raw and aching, surrounded by the cold embrace of a dark room. It took a moment before you realized that terrible, agonizing sound was your own voice – screaming. You could only vaguely hear your name called, the gentle touch of a hand running lines over your spine. The same hands that guided yours to feel for the silky sheets covering you, to the cotton of your t-shirt, to the steady thump of a heartbeat over an exposed chest beside you.

“Breathe, sweetheart,” the voice eased again. The contrast of it – the kindness and the patience laced in the words – tugged you away from the nightmare you’d escaped from. You followed his request and slowly forced air into your lungs. “Good, honey. One more, okay?”

You nodded, doing as he asked.

Pushing past the haze over your vision, you looked around the room to find the familiar ripple of curtains over the window, the pile of laundry in the corner, your Columbia badge hanging over the doorknob, Bucky’s FBI jacket slung over the armchair.

You gasped. Bucky.

Sure enough, propped up on his elbow beside you, was Bucky Barnes. He wore that same glimpse of a smile you fell in love with but it held a heaviness in it, a sadness. The sheet sat bunched at his waist, exposing his bare chest and the scars littering his skin. Your eyes drew to the mark on his shoulder, the one you were responsible for. It raised pink against his tanned skin, healed over in the last year but still visible. Still a reminder.

“You alright?” Bucky asked slowly. His hand was cautious as he reached out for you. Slow in his movements under your gaze, so that you might have the chance to pull away if you wanted to. You held steady, relief washing through your body as his hand circled around yours.

You nodded, though you weren’t sure whether it was entirely true. Bucky didn’t press you on it as he gathered you in his arms and slowly pulled you down into his embrace. He tugged the covers back up around you, holding you as you stole a glance at the clock beyond his shoulder. You only had a few hours left before the alarm would wake you for work. You didn’t expect to get anymore sleep tonight, but it was a comfort at least to know you had time to lay soundly in Bucky’s arms before morning and responsibility took him away.

“It was Brock again,” you mumbled against his chest. “The library.”

Bucky tensed. This particular brand of nightmare had been plaguing you for weeks now. It had been almost a year now since the fire but the horrors of what you endured that night had yet to leave you. They started with vivid images of Bucky’s body bleeding out in the warehouse, the bullet you shot into his shoulder finding a new home between his eyes or buried into his chest. They centered around Brock hulling Peter into his warpath and leaving him tied and bound to the flames alongside you. But lately, your mind was particularly cruel.

Brock haunted you – taunted you. His ghost made you doubt whether you were ever really safe from him at all, if he was still lurking in the shadows, if his hand could slither out from the darkness and grip tight to your neck and drag you back to his hell. They never found a body within the flames and despite Bucky’s reassurances that he put enough bullets in the man to make sure he never took another breath, it didn’t sway your fears.

“I hate that I wasn’t there for you when you needed me,” Bucky sighed through his teeth, his grip on you holding a little tighter.

“You did everything you could. You still saved me,” you told him. Still, he carried his guilt. You could feel his fingertips run over the faded burn marks on your skin. Bumps and edges over what used to be smooth and soft. He saw them as reminders of his failings despite your pleas against it.

“I should have killed him long before then.” There was no waver in his voice. He shifted under the covers, his lips pressing sweetly to your forehead in contrast to the malice in his voice for the monster who used to share your bed.

“You were trying to do the right thing by bringing him in. Doing what you do, you don’t have a choice but to believe in the system. With all the monsters you’ve put away over the years, you should believe in it but... we both know Brock was never going to tolerate a cage.” You clung a little tighter to Bucky’s chest, settling against the steady beat of his heart.

Bucky’s response was only to curl his arm around you, holding you as close as he could manage. His lips did not leave the crown of your head. You stayed there with him, curled in his embrace, listening to his heartbeat, until the sun rose beyond the mood and light beckoned you to a new day.

***

You were standing in the kitchen washing the dishes when you saw him.

You were walking through the practice your therapist explained for dealing with your nightmares. You closed your eyes and pictured the library, the wires on your wrists, the very beginning and the start of it all. But instead of Brock emerging from the shadows, you conjured Bucky. You imagined Bucky rushing through the doors, freeing you from your chains, hulling you up into his arms and whisking you away from harm. You concentrated on every detail in his face, on the dried blood you remembered he wore along his cheek, on the open scars from Brock’s rings, on the look of relief upon his face because he found you. He found you and he saved you before the flames could take hold. He carried you away from the room that had once been your sanctuary, now only reserved for your nightmares. You held onto that version of the story with all you had.

Sometimes, it helped. Other nights, you still woke up screaming and drenched in sweat. But Bucky was there and he never showed an ounce of anything but the love and patience he swore to you. He’d hold you until your heart settled and you stopped fearing the image of Brock’s burned face when you closed your eyes. Encompassed with Bucky, it was hard to think of anyone else.

Peter was sweeping up the stray shredded cheese that had found its way to the floor in the midst of another taco night. Cheddar, your sweet orange tabby, had little interest in his namesake and was purring soundingly on the armrest of the couch. Bucky had slipped out to the corner store to pick up a few tubs of ice cream in preparation for the movie Peter had been dying to see for weeks now.

All it took was a single glance to the window for the ground to vanish under your feet.

You could only vaguely catch the sound of broken glass as it shattered, the dinner plate in shards near your bare feet. Peter rushed towards you but you couldn’t make out what he was saying. No – your focus was stolen by the figure standing beyond the darkness, hanging within the shadows.

You knew that outline. You knew that face. You’d seen it in your dreams – your nightmares – for almost a year. Disfigured and burned. But still, covered in shadows like a monster within a child’s closet. Not close enough to see details of his vicious smirk but real enough to set terror into your veins.

Peter was yanking on your arm, his voice louder now. You couldn’t move. You were stone.

“Y/n?” Bucky called the second the door swung open, the paper bag quickly discarded on the floor. The panic was etched into his voice, the same way it had been in the months after the fire when you lost yourself to brief moments of fear, when the memory of his cover you’d known as James was all that could bring you back.

He rushed in front of you, obstructing your view of the window and snapping you from your trance. His hands were on your cheeks, his eyes quickly glancing down at the shards of glass by your feet. You could feel him trying to delicately usher you away before you cut yourself, but you couldn’t let the monster escape a second time.

“It’s Brock,” you exhaled, trying to peer around Bucky’s shoulder for another look. “He’s here. I—I saw him! Outside!”

Bucky swung his attention to the window, still holding on tight to you. But when you looked again, the darkness was all that remained. No figures hidden in the shadows. No one lying in wait, taunting you. The monster had vanished in thin air.

“Sweetheart... he’s dead,” Bucky eased. “He can’t hurt you.”

You shook your head, tears brimming in your eyes. You tried to ignore the concerned look that flashed between Bucky and Peter, how their expressions of panic quickly turned to ones of pain, of aching sadness, of pity.

“N-No, I saw him! I swear I did, James,” you argued, pushing past him and rushing out towards the window in search of what you saw. Bucky hissed as you barely cleared the broken glass in your path, though he followed you without question. “I saw him. He was looking right at me!”

Bucky indulged you by taking another look out to the empty sidewalk behind the brownstone you shared together. It was quiet where you lived, away from the rush of the city and the tourists and late-night drinkers. All that remained was the faint buzz of the streetlamp at the end of the block and an elderly couple taking their usual evening stroll. They raised a hand in greeting as they spotted the two of you looking out the window. Bucky forced a smile and returned the gesture.

“There’s no one there, honey,” Bucky tried again, urging you to look for yourself. “Maybe your eyes were playing tricks on you. You know how hard nights have been lately...”

You shook your head. “I-- I know what I saw, James. I’m not—I'm not crazy.”

His face softened. Slowly his hand moved to cup at your cheek, brushing away the tears that had started to form. “I know. I know that, love.”

It hadn’t slipped your notice that it was the second time you called him James. A name that held enormous meaning to you, a name you had promised to leave in the past in favor of the man standing in front of you. Bucky – the undercover FBI agent who saved you from the prison you’d been living in. James – the enforcer to an evil organization who taught you how to love again. One in the same. And still, sometimes calling upon the version of the man who had provided the first sense of safety you’d felt in years, was all that kept you from falling apart.

You stole a glance back to the window as Bucky wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you tight to his chest. It was the same sidewalk you were familiar with, no sinister creatures lingering in the shadows. It's possible you had imagined it. You were focused on rewriting your nightmares...

“Should I head home? Let you rest?” Peter’s voice nervously called from the kitchen. He set the broom back in the closet, already having cleaned up the glass from the broken plate.

You shook your head, wiping tears against Bucky’s shirt. “No, please stay. Let’s watch that movie, okay? I’m alright.”

You forced a smile though the redness in your eyes. You felt Bucky’s hand settle against your back, his fingertips soothing small circles into your spine. His scent calming you as you listened for the steady thump of his heartbeat.

“You sure?” Peter stepped forward, that sweet hopeful look on his face though a hesitancy remained in his eyes. He wasn’t convinced of your word.

“Yes.” You hugged Bucky’s waist, tugging him to the couch. “I think I must have... I don’t know... I was seeing things, I guess.”

Nightmares bleeding into the daytime. Natasha had warned you about that early on. Enduring the type of trauma you did, surviving a home with invisible bars and nearly losing your life to it... it was bound to follow you. Bucky understood how you carried it still and he didn’t shy away in fear of it. You tried to find strength in that, in his unending loyalty and patience. You trusted his word above everything else.

Brock was dead. Four shots to the chest. The fire took his body.

It had to be true.

No—It was true.

And yet, the doubt scratched its nails along the windowpane, begging to be let in.

***

“Hey, I’m not saying that I’m a better actor than Barnes, but I’m not not saying that.” Sam Wilson picked up an apple from the pile and tossed it into the air before take a huge bite out of the center. The juice of it dripped down the edges of grin.

Bucky rolled his eyes as he handed the vendor a dollar for Sam’s snack. You giggled against Bucky’s side as he slid his hand back into his pocket. He was trying to hide his laugh through a bite in his lip, but you could see past it enough to catch the slight lift in his cheeks.

“I’d say he was a pretty good actor,” you smirked. “Fooled me, didn’t he?”

Your arms were snaked around Bucky’s, holding him against your chest as you weaved in and around the busy famers’ market, so you felt it when his body tensed. That guilt complex of his couldn’t take a little teasing, though you tried.

“If he could make me fall in love with a,” you paused, lowering your voice, “Hydra hitman,” you grinned, swatting Bucky in the arm, “then I think he’s a damn good actor.”

“Alright, damn, I concede!” Sam threw his arms in the air, smiling so wide you wondered if it might touch his ears.

“You’re terrible, you know that?” Bucky snickered, leaning into your ear. His breath was warm against your skin, his lips grazing over your hair as you felt the soft brush of his laugh.

“Hush.” You snuck up and stole a kiss from his lips. It was a wonder to be able to kiss him in the open like this, surrounded by people who had little time or patience to care for the strangers standing in love at the center of a busy famers’ market. It was surreal at times, feeling like you were lost in a dream you never wanted to wake up from. But he was real and perfect and wonderful and so incredibly yours.

“Oh! Wait, I forgot the desserts for Peter!” you pulled back quickly, glancing into the busy crowd in search of the vendor with the fresh displays of apple tarts. You’d been meaning to pick one up for Peter after he got his first acceptance letter to college. They’ve been rolling in lately and piling high enough to cover Aunt May’s kitchen table, but you did promise him a new tart for every acceptance and you were about three behind.

“Go,” Bucky laughed, shaking you from his arm playfully. “I’ll babysit Sam until you get back.”

You grinned, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek you knew Sam would mock him for the second you disappeared into the crowd. The glossy imprint of your lips against his stubble was your favorite look on him, and he didn’t much mind it himself.

Shoulders bumped into yours as you squeezed through the rush of tourists and locals browsing the fresh fruits and vegetables displays along the tents. You turned the corner at the smell of cooked apples, cinnamon, and butter. Your stomach started to growl as you approached the vendor: a charming, older man with a twisted grey mustache and a flat cap.

“What can I get for you, hun?” he grinned, hands setting on his round stomach. Flour was still dusted along his apron, little bits of crumbs on his cheeks.

“Oh, I think I’d like—” You paused, catching a glimpse of something unsettling over the man's shoulder. Just a shadow, at first, blocked by the busy hustle of people walking by. You shook your head, tearing your eyes away and forcing your attention back to the vender. He offered you an uneasy smile. “The, um, the apple tart, please. And two of the—of the—”

You lost your trail of thought as the figure appeared again. Covered in darkness amongst a busy, sunny coated street. But he stood completely still, a baseball cap obstructing most of his face, though you could feel his eyes on you. You froze as he slowly lifted a hand, the flesh of it marred and blistered, and he tilted the lid of his cap.

“No. No, that’s not—He's not—” Your breathing was coming in too fast. The distorted image from your nightmares was standing mere feet away; a monster wearing a man’s skin and even that was ruined and burned.

Your dead husband stared back at you, that sickening grin curling up on his face. Your hands were shaking so violently you could hardly grasp the dollar bills as you fumbled with your wallet.

“Miss? Are you alright, deary?” the vendor called, extending a hand towards you but you had already backed out of his reach. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from Brock, from the burns on his skin or the murderous look in his stare; the gleeful expression of anticipated revenge. You were stone and marble and ice until—he stepped forward.

“James!” you screamed, leaving behind the money and the pastries as you sprinted in the opposite direction; shoving your way through the crowd, but it felt like you were swimming against the full force of a current. Your legs were shaking, your heart threatening to burst from your chest. You didn’t dare a glimpse over your shoulder to see how close Brock was behind you. “JAMES!”

You barely registered as you slammed into Bucky’s chest. Tears soaked quickly into his shirt, your sobs loud and breaking as he desperately tried to settle you. There was no space to pull you off to the side, no comfort from the busy crowd around you. You clawed at him, terrified you couldn’t get close enough, desperate to hide from your husband, from his vendetta, to protect Bucky from his wrath and—

“Y/n! Y/n, look at me!” Bucky begged, taking a tenser hold of you than he ever intended to use and forced you to meet his eye. The sting of his grip was all that punctured through the terror. You met the sharp blue of Bucky’s eyes, his brows furrowed in concern, worry lines along his forehead. “What happened?”

“It’s Brock! He’s here!” you sobbed, desperately clinging to Bucky as you gestured behind you, certain your ex-husband would emerge from the crowd at any second. “He found us. He found us! Oh God, James— he’s going to—”

“Stay with her,” Bucky ordered to Sam and he began prying your grip from around his waist.

“No! Don’t go!” You felt like a child; small and fearful and terrified beyond belief. But Bucky had that look in his eye, one that warned of danger in his path should anyone dare to cross him. You'd only seen it once – when he was on his knees in the warehouse, at the mercy of your ex-husband.

“Sam!” Bucky warned.

“I’ve got you, kid,” Sam eased the best he could. Bucky kissed your hairline before he rushed back into the crowd in search of Brock. You didn’t dare watch until he disappeared amongst the sea of people. Instead, you clung onto Sam as if he might be the only thing keeping you afloat. Maybe he was.

It was only when your breathing began to slow again with every count of Sam’s deep inhales that you started to notice the whispers around you, how the strangers eyed you and walked a little quicker as they passed by. You couldn’t make out what they were saying, but they were bold enough to hold your gaze as they whispered into the ears of their friends. Pity laced smiles at the crazy women sobbing at the center of the market.

Then, you heard footsteps come to a steady halt behind you. Sam released you from his hold and you turned to find Bucky waiting for you. He opened his arms and you rushed in.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into your hair, apologies for tearing himself from you. It was not one he needed to make, but you nodded anyway.

“Did you find him?” you dared to ask.

When you were met with silence, your heart sank. As you glanced up you caught that same look of concern Bucky had given Peter the first time you saw Brock through the window of your apartment days earlier. Now, he shared it with Sam.

Bucky clenched his jaw, his blue eyes swimming in remorse. “Sweetheart, I—”

“Oh God... I’m going crazy. Aren’t I?” you gasped, tears filling your eyes to the point where you could no longer see the look of agony on Bucky’s face and, maybe, that was for the best. You could only vaguely hear Sam as he ushered the onlookers away, flashing his badge and grumbling angrily under his breath at the tourists who dared to sit in observation of your worst fears.

“It’s okay, honey,” Bucky eased with loving, tender kisses to your shoulder. “I’ve got you. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

He repeated it on an endless loop. Constant reassurances. Gentle reminders. You could hear the concern etched into his voice, the fear he shared with Sam, the doubt of whether his love was enough to save you from the horrors Rumlow left behind.

***

“You don’t have to stay the night, Sam,” you tried again for the third time that evening. “Please, I don’t want to inconvenience you just because I’m apparently losing my mind.”

“Are you kidding?” Sam smirked, shaking out the long, teal sheet before he laid it onto the couch. “I insist. Plus, it gives me an excuse to guilt Barnes into going easy on me at the annual field test.”

“You’re a good man, Sam,” you exhaled, arms folded tight over your chest. Your gaze drifted to the windows and the dark overcast hanging along the sidewalk. There was only a moment of relief in the emptiness you found in wait.

“Careful, sweetheart, you’ll inflate his ego.”

You turned to find Bucky leaning against the wall behind you, watching your interaction with Sam. He shook his head, a smiling brimming on his face as he approached. His arm swung casually around your shoulders, tugging you to his side before he pressed a short kiss to your hairline.

“Listen,” Bucky started, a more serious tone in his voice, “I appreciate you coming out here last minute. I didn’t feel right leaving her on her own after what happened at the market this morning.”

Sam softened, his teasing grin turning gentle into a thin line. “She’s family, right?” He winked at you, tugging a smile back to your face. “Go find out what Fury wants. I’ll hold down the fort until you get back.”

“And I’ll just be asleep anyway,” you added, though you wondered if Bucky could hear the uncertainty in your voice. You weren’t sure you’d be able to get much of any sleep at all while he was gone, but it helped to ease your mind knowing Sam wasn’t too far away. Even if your mind was playing games with you, the safety of having at least one federal agent in the apartment was a relief.

Still – Bucky’s jaw clenched as he nodded. He was better at reading you than you gave him credit for. He turned you gently in his arms to face him, a finger tilting at the bottom of your chin to hold your gaze.

“I promise I won’t be long. I’m sure Fury just has a new vision for recruit training he wants to run by me and that man’s schedule waits for no one,” Bucky chuckled, trying to sway your tension. It didn’t do much to etch the stone from your muscle, but you gave him a smile. It was enough. He sighed, pressing out one in return though it held a heaviness in it. “We’ll deal with everything else tomorrow, alright? Bruce is a good man, Y/n. He’ll know how to help you.”

You nodded, holding your breath at the mention of the doctor. He was a trained psychiatrist who specialized in PTSD and had worked with the Bureau for years. You figured most of his work was done with the men and women who worked alongside Bucky and Sam, but he knew his way around trauma and the dangerous monsters it carried. He could help, you told yourself. You weren’t crazy. You weren’t going to lose Bucky to this.

“I love you,” Bucky said quietly, though it held a certainty to it that pieced together the frayed edges in your stomach, the doubt and fears that lingered there. It was as if he could read the fears on your face and put them at ease before they could take root as he said, “we’ll get through this together, okay?”

“Okay,” you murmured, pressing your face to his chest. You took a final inhale of his scent, holding it as close as you could manage, before you let go. “I love you, too.”

You tried not to linger in the hallway after that. The apartment felt too big without Bucky around and though Sam did his best to draw out your smile, the exhaustion from the market had drained you. Your head was buzzing, your mind unfocused. Sam had noticed pretty quickly when you started to zone out, eyes fixated on the wall behind his shoulder, and he gently eased you to your room.

“I’ll be right out here you need anything, okay?” Sam reminded you with a soft tap on the edge of your door.

“Thank you, Sam.” You weren’t sure how to apologize for the events at the market, how you’d clung to him and sobbed, terrified that your dead husband was following you. You didn’t dare allow yourself to imagine what he must have thought of you in that moment. Still, the warm color of Sam’s eyes and the sincerity of his smile were enough to sway those thoughts a little while longer.

Then, you were alone.

You pulled the blankets up to your chin, curling against the side of the bed Bucky slept on. You could still smell the faint scent of his shampoo on the pillow. You tugged it against your chest, holding it as if it were an extension of him.

This helpless feeling was not one you were used to. Not anymore.

You couldn’t remember feeling this afraid even when you were living under Brock’s roof. Part of you wondered whether the risk of losing the security and safety and comfort you’d gained in his death was what fed into your fears and accelerated their momentum. When you were married to Brock and complicit to Hydra, you had little to lose, little to gain. You were able to go through the motions and survive.

But now?

Now you had something worth living for. Now, you had Bucky. You had your job back, your friends. You had Sam and Natasha and Steve. You had Peter and May. You had the light of day and freedom and love.

The very thought of it being stolen from you scared you far more than Brock ever could. And still, it was his face that haunted you. It was his face in your nightmares and following your shadows.

You kept your focus on the closed door to your bedroom, watching the flickering of the television light between the cracks and listening for Sam’s muffled laugh through the walls. You waited and waited and hoped that Bucky would return before the demons came for you, but sleep swept you away in luring embrace.

***

You woke suddenly to the sound of muffled gunfire. Jolting up in your bed, you clutched at the sheets, at your pajamas, at your hair, wiping the sweat from your skin. Your hand settled against your heart, trying to focus on the rhythm, but it was too fast. It wasn’t the steady, reassuring pace that Bucky carried. You groaned, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes.

Just a dream, you told yourself. It was just a dream. It can't hurt you.

You turned to the door to find the light from the television still sliding through the edges. Sam must have forgotten to turn it off before he fell asleep. He was known for his love of old detective dramas. The gunshot from the show must have lingered into your dreams.

You slumped back into the bed, heart still pounding. Beyond the door, you could hear the creek of the floorboards under heavy steps. Maybe Sam was still awake. There were plenty of snacks in your pantry and he had teased Bucky mercilessly about eating all of his cheese puffs. The thought helped to ease the panic from your veins as you forced yourself to close your eyes.

Bucky will be home soon. Go to sleep. You’re fine.

But then the footsteps inched closer. They paused right outside the door, their silhouette blocking the stream of light from the television. You rubbed at your eyes.

“Sam?”

He didn’t respond. Instead, the knob began to turn. Slow. The hinges of the door crying as it crept open. The sudden influx of light was harsh against your eyes, forcing you to squeeze them shut. His face was shielded by the backdrop of light and the blur in your eyes. Whether it was from exhaustion or leftover tears from your dreams, you weren’t sure.

“Sam? What’s wrong?”

Again, nothing.

There was something wrong in his movements. He was too stiff, too quiet. He looked like something out of your nightmares – cold, sinister, calculating. The room shifted around you; the safety you’d known in its walls peeled back by the edges of sharp, unyielding claws. Whatever crept towards you in the shadows was not Sam Wilson.

You stared at the figure as it approached, suddenly terrified to take your eyes off of it. Your vision began to burn, unable to so much as blink in fear of what the creature would do. Beyond the door, you heard a faint groaning, nails scraping along the floorboards. Your name was called in a familiar voice, panicked but faded, weak.

The figure lowered his hood.

“It’s good to see you again, baby.”

“No.” You scrambled backwards on the bed, shifting as far away from the distorted figure as you could manage. Your hands were shaking as you brought them to your lips. “No-- This isn’t-- This isn’t real.”

But Brock Rumlow stepped forward into the light and began to laugh. When his hand gripped at your wrist, you felt the nails dig into your skin. You gagged against the harsh burn of liquor and raw flesh. The adrenaline that rushed into your veins was visceral and agonizing – it burned as deep as the flames in your dreams.

Something pinched at your neck as your movements began to slow, your vision doubling. A syringe was in Brock’s hand as he stepped back, watching as you struggled to maintain consciousness.

“It’s... it’s not real,” you murmured again, trying to convince yourself beyond what your mind already knew to be true as you stared down the figure of your ex-husband.

And still, he laughed. It was the last thing you heard before the darkness caved in.

***

Bucky paced along the hallway outside of Director Fury’s office. It had been over an hour since he arrived and Fury had yet to see him. His message had indicated that it was a time sensitive issue. It was the only reason he begrudgingly agreed to leave you alone for the night after what happened in the market. Sam was with you, Bucky reminded himself as he ran a hair through the roots of his hair. You weren’t alone.

Then, when Bucky was about ready to barge his way into Fury’s office, the door opened. Agent Hill walked out carrying a half dozen folders in her arms, her heels clicking against the hardwood floors as she passed by. She seemed surprised to see Bucky waiting, but still, she made a short gesture to let him know the director was free.

“Sir,” Bucky started, stepping into the office. “You asked to see me?”

Fury was standing with his back to the door, facing out to the open windows and the bright lights of the city. Slowly, he turned over his shoulder, eyeing Bucky suspiciously. He took a step forward; his unnerving silence proving a bit too much for Bucky’s present impatience.

“Sir, I don’t mean to press,” Bucky exhaled, “but it’s been a rough day and I’d like to get back home as soon as I--”

“What makes you think I want to see you, Barnes?” Fury scoffed, settling into his desk. He popped the lid off the bottle of bourbon he kept hidden in the bottom drawer. Bourbon poured into the crystalline glass.

“You paged me two hours ago, sir,” Bucky said, setting the small flip phone on the desk. It was the only device Fury had agreed to use to call in his agents when needed; even if Bucky’s latest missions were held behind a desk or on the training field with the new recruits.

Fury cast his single eye at the phone, narrowing on the last message received. He read it over twice before he tossed the phone back to Bucky. He shrugged.

“I didn’t send you that message.”

Bucky froze, the phone feeling heavy within his grasp. “Sir?”

“Our message system was hacked several hours ago,” Fury said. He leaned in over the desk, studying Bucky through a less than unsettling gaze. “That’s why I called Maria in. I don’t know who sent you that message, but it wasn’t us.”

Bucky read over the message again. It was in the same cadence Fury always used in his messages, the same phrasing. HQ meeting 1hr. Short. To the point.

“Why would someone want to lure you back to base, Agent Barnes?” Fury inquired, leaning back into his chair, but Bucky could only vaguely hear what he had said. He was too busy staring at the phone, his grip clenching so tight around the edges he might snap it in half. His heart was pounding so loud, it muffled in his own ears. He could hear the rush of his blood through his veins.

Because he realized in that moment the message had little to do with luring him back to base. No – the sender had a much more terrifying purpose in mind.

To get you alone.

***

“Y/n!”

By the time Bucky made it back to the apartment, he was drenched in sweat. It soaked through his white button down, leaving the material transparent and wet, clinging against his chest. His hands were shaking as he struggled to get the key into the lock, fumbling over it several times before he shouldered his way inside.

His stomach dropped at the first sight of blood.

“Sam!” Bucky sprinted across the room, dropping down hard on his knees and into the expanding pool of crimson red soaking into the cracks of the floorboards. Sam was laid on his stomach, hands outstretched as if he had been crawling. A streak of smeared blood was in his wake. He’d been trying to reach the bedroom before his body gave out.

With shaking hands, Bucky rolled his friend onto his back, desperately searching for damage.

It was then he found the bullet wound embedded in Sam’s stomach. Bucky tore a glance back to the bedroom as he pressed his hands to the wound, stopping the bleeding the best he could.

“Y/n!” Bucky shouted again, desperate for you to appear from behind a locked door, unharmed. But there was no response in his echo. You did not call his name or any other.

“I’m s-sorry, Buck,” Sam’s weakened voice jarred Bucky from his trance. He looked down to find Sam’s eyes on him, though they were heavy, barely focused. Sam’s hand curled around Bucky's wrist. “S-She’s gone. He took her. I... I tried to—”

“I know, buddy,” Bucky eased, his voice breaking in the effort. “I know. It's okay. Save your strength, alright?”

As quickly as he could, Bucky dialed Steve’s number. He didn’t have the energy or the willpower to explain what happened, but he managed to order for an ambulance – one that would ram its way through New York traffic if it had to. Steve confirmed he was on his way and Natasha would be shortly behind. No questions asked.

“Buck,” Sam choked out, blood dripping at his lips. “Tell Y/n I’m--”

“I’m not telling her shit, okay? You tell her when—” Bucky clenched his jaw, tears slipping down past his cheeks, “You tell her when I get her back.”

***

It felt like an eternity before Steve and the ambulance arrived. Sam had faded in and out of consciousness enough times to make Bucky question if he would ever hear his friend ruthlessly tease him again. Still, in every waking moment, Sam did his best describe the intruder. There were few jokes, little smiles; he nearly drowned in his own blood before he could finish.

Sam couldn’t offer any more details beyond the hooded figure that had taken him by surprise. Bucky couldn’t tell if it was Sam’s delirium, but the description he gave sounded like something constructed of nightmares. He described a monster.

He was passed out by the time Steve arrived.

Bucky fell back onto the floor as the paramedics took over. He could only vaguely register Steve’s hands grip tight around his biceps and hulling him up to his feet long after the sirens had faded away and all that remained on the floor before him was the faint outline of Sam’s body. He tried not to pay attention to the blood coating his hands and soaking into his shirt. Sam’s blood. Blood he spilled trying to protect you. A task Bucky had requested.

“I’ve got footprints,” Natasha’s voice called from the hallway. Steve ushered Bucky to follow, though he felt like he was still stuck in a trance. None of it felt real, even as Natasha kneeled to more closely examine the imprint of the shoe outlined in blood.

“What happened here, Buck?” Steve asked, though he knew there was no good answer.

Bucky shook his head. “I don’t know. I—I can’t do this again, Steve. I can’t lose her—I can’t—”

A flash of gold caught his eye. Bucky followed the reflection into the bedroom, almost in a trance. He stilled as he approached the bed, finding a small, gold ring sitting just on the edge of the mattress. Thick. Rusting. An emblem of a skull at its center, surrounded by six long tentacles.

Slowly, he picked up the ring, holding it in the palm of his hand. The tears had faded on his cheeks, replaced only by the cold burn of vengeance growing like fire through his veins. He shoved the ring into Steve’s hands as he approached, answering the question before he had a chance to ask.

Bucky moved on a warpath to the safe. He wasted little time in loading his handgun and slipping it to his waist. A second followed and he strapped it to his thigh. When he stood again, Natasha and Steve were watching silently.

“You going to stop me?” Bucky questioned, a cold determination icing his voice.

“I didn’t last time,” Steve confirmed, stepping back.

Bucky gave him a short nod as he passed by. He didn’t bother with a coat.

“Hey Barnes,” Natasha called just as he opened the front door. He paused for only a moment, a short glance over his shoulder as she approached, her expression as cold and calculating as his own. “Make sure he’s dead this time.”

***

When you woke, you tried to feel for the cool silk of your bedroom sheets. You searched for the comfort of the warm body beside you and the gentle thumping of an easy heart. You sought out the slight dip of the mattress and the brush of air from the fan overhead. Instead, you found your hands were restrained behind you, the skin burned under thick ropes.

You sat up slowly in effort to ease through the blinding headache dizzying your vision. Dirt was caked into your nails and brushed along your skin, grass below your exposed legs. Still in your pajamas, you felt the sting of a twig as it scratched your thigh.

It took a moment before you recognized your surroundings. Away from the comfort of Brooklyn, you realized you were immersed in acres of woods. To your right, just barely through a short clearing, your heart dropped at the sight of ruined remains of a home you had lived in for years. Most of it had been bulldozed away after the fire, but pieces still remained. Enough that you still recognized the proximity to your nightmares.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, baby.”

You flinched at the sound of his voice – Brock's voice – as he stepped out from the shadows. No longer shielded by the distorted visions in your dreams or the promise of safety under the guise of a twisted imagination, there was little doubt that the man who stood in front of you was anything other than the head of Hydra itself.

“Takes a while to get used to, doesn’t it?” he scoffed, gesturing to the burns coating his skin. He was almost unrecognizable; the darkly handsome features on his face obstructed in the fire. What remained instead was a glimpse of the evil he carried in his heart, a sickening display of karma unfolding upon his body and mocking his existence.

You couldn’t help the laugh as it escaped. Perhaps it was shock or maybe you really were losing your mind, but the falter in Brock’s expression was reward enough. He was expecting you to remain in your fear of him, to be able to hold it over you. Your laughter was not what he had been anticipating and it read clear as day upon his face.

“It’s what you deserve,” you spat, tugging at the ropes around your wrists as you rose to your knees. Tiny stones dug into your skin but you urged yourself to feel power in the sting of it. To let it ground you to your strength and remind you of what was real.

“Deserve?” Brock hissed, his upper lip twitching. Anger twisted and consumed the little parts of his expression he still had control over. “You want to talk about what is deserved?!”

You tried not to react when he pulled a handgun from his waist and cocked it. The barrel of it aimed at your head, his finger on the trigger. You tried to keep the cold, uncaring expression Bucky had worn that night in the factory – unafraid in the face of evil. He’d been on his knees then, too. But still—your jaw clenched and Brock grinned.

“How is it that my cheating, whore of a wife and the traitorous son of a bitch who destroyed everything I ever built get to live happily ever after?!” Brock sneered, crouching down to your eye line. He drew the edge of the barrel along your cheekbone, sliding it down your throat, though you tried to pull away. He grinned. “You want to talk about what is deserved? Huh? How about I take back what belongs to me?”

You clenched your jaw, unwilling to meet his eye. Instead, you kept your stare on the tree beyond his left shoulder, the one you could see from the window of the spare bedroom you moved into after you gained the courage to fall in love with James— with Bucky. Its trunk was charred in the fire but it still stood. It still remained. Worn, but still strong.

“Maybe, I keep my promise to our mutual friend? Barnes, isn’t it?” Brock taunted. He used the barrel of the gun to brush your hair behind your shoulder. This close you could see the divots and raised edges of his burns. They coated every inch of his skin. “I told him he’d find you in pieces one day. That his betrayal would follow him the rest of his life and I’d rip you apart just to spite him. But hell, I didn't forget about the part you played either, baby. Maybe I’d like to ruin you a little too... just for myself.”

The barrel traveled alone your collarbone, dipping down to your chest, drawing a line between your breasts and down to your navel. Even through the scarring, you could see the look upon his face – the grin as he licked his lips.

You gritted your teeth. “Fuck you.”

Brock laughed at that, deep and low. Sinister. He wiped away the spit that had landed against his cheek. “I like it when you're feisty.”

You felt for the ground behind you; wrists bound you brushed your fingertips along the grass until you came upon a small rock. A small ounce of relief nestled into your chest; the rest filled with a steady determination. You started to saw it against the ropes.

“How the hell are you even alive? You should be dead,” you said in an effort to keep Brock talking. You could only hope Bucky was on his way to you, if he even knew where you were.

Time was a commodity you didn’t have, but you could stall as long as you could. Maybe... Maybe you’d see him again. It was what kept you going, what gave you the courage to face your demon standing before you.

“Four bullets to the chest and a burning house later, here I am... rising like a fucking phoenix from the ashes!” Brock shouted up to the skies. He stretched his arms out to the side as if he were absorbing the cheers from a stadium worth of admirers. “I’m invincible, baby! You can’t kill me!”

“You're not special, Brock. You’ll die like any other man,” you spat, reveling in the slight shift in his smile. The rock broke through a single piece of twine; a small dent, but it was something. “James will find us and when he does, he’ll kill you.”

Brock’s face dropped to a cold frown. “Not if I kill him first.”

“Would that make you feel like a man?” you jeered, like poking a snarling bear with a short, pointed stick. “To kill the man I left you for? The man I fucked in your house? The man I traded a mansion and millions for just to escape you?”

“Shut your fucking mouth before I—”

“What?” you taunted, shouting out to the trees and the birds and whatever else could hear you amongst the woods. “What the fuck are you going to do to me, Brock!? What else can you possibly take? I am so fucking tired of being afraid of you! I am done walking on eggshells and screaming in the middle of the night and looking over my shoulder!”

“Is that so?” Brock was laughing now, as if your defiance was little more than a show, as if he might peer behind the curtain and find you shaking and crying in the corner. But he’d done more than cage you all these years. He taught you what it was to live with a demon, to know a monster by name, and you were tired of letting it take root in your home. You'd sooner burn it to the ground.

“You’re nothing to me,” you said coldly. “You are nothing but a weak, pathetic little man who didn’t deserve a damn thing from me, so you resorted to taking it. Blackmail and extortion and threats. You got off by making me feel small and alone in that house and I’m done. I won’t live the rest of my life in those fears.”

Brock rolled his eyes, pacing slowly in front of you as he stepped over broken twigs in his path. Snaps like bones under his feet. He ran a hand soothingly over the barrel of the gun, admiring it. “Barnes is a bad influence on you, baby. You think you’re so brave now, don’t you?”

You tightened your jaw, wiling your breaths even. “You can’t hurt me anymore.”

Brock lunged at you, nails digging into your jawline as he forced you up to your feet in his grasp. The rock sawed through half the width of the rope as his nails drew blood on your skin. His breath was hot a flame against your cheeks.

“I’m the one holding the gun, baby,” Brock sneered. “I can still do a whole hell of hurt to you before I end your miserable life.”

You met his eye as if you stared straight into the heart of the devil. You let the fires consume you. “I’d like to see you try.”

The ropes snapped at your wrists and you threw yourself on him, sending both of you crashing to the ground.

“Fucking bitch!” Brock cursed, trying to shove you off of him, but you’d taken enough lessons with Nat to know how to immobilize an attacker.

But then you spotted the gun laying only a few feet away and you realized escape was not your intention. Brock must have followed your line of sight because he jolted enough to sporadically crawl towards the weapon.

You both lunged for it.

***

“Nat, are you sure this is where he took her?” Bucky said as he pulled up to the drive of a home that was now in ruins. He looked around the perimeter and saw nothing save for the acres of woods beyond the property.

“It’s what the profile suggests,” Natasha replied through the car speaker. Bucky could vaguely hear the clicks of her keyboard on the other end of the phone. “Rumlow thrives on drama, Buck. He’s going to bring her back to where it all began. And well, where it ended, too. He wants revenge. Bringing her back to the house puts him on an advantage.”

Bucky slid the car into park. “Keep looking anyway. I’ll call if there’s news.”

He reached for the keys, only pausing when he heard Natasha sigh. “Bring her home.”

Bucky nodded, not sure what else he could say, and turned the car off. He thought you were already freed of your past, thought that you were safe from the demons and monsters in your nightmares. He’d convinced you they were little more than your imagination playing cruel tricks on you. If he’d only listened, if he just believed you... maybe you wouldn’t be at the mercy of Brock Rumlow. Again.

He stepped out onto the driveway, staring up at what remained of the home he fell in love with you in. He shook his head, pinching at the bridge between his eyes, and jogged towards the woods. He didn’t dare call out your name in fear of what Rumlow would do under the pressure. Instead, Bucky concentrated on holding his breath and the warm touch of metal in his hands. His weapon was his grounding point. The bullets inside would not miss their target this time.

Bucky felt like he was starting to run in circles when it happened. Loud enough to jolt his heart out of pace, for the trees to shake as birds flew up into the air.

BANG!

BANG BANG!

BANG!

Four gunshots. Bucky sprinted as fast as he could, following the echo. Leaping over stray roots in the ground and swiping aside branches as they cut his arms.

He emerged into a small clearing to find you standing at the center, a gun held tight between your hands as you stared down at an unmoving body at your feet. Rumlow laid amongst the dirt, on his back, blood pooling at his chest.

“Y/n?” Bucky called gently, though you didn’t look in his direction.

Rumlow’s hand flinched and before Bucky could release his safety, you fired off another two shots. He did not move again after that. His face bore the ghost of surprise, a faded grin turned to shock in the moment you first pulled the trigger.

Bucky took a cautious step forward, your name again on his lips, but before he could get it out, he stepped on a twig, the sharp snap of it startling you as you spun in his direction, weapon now aimed at his chest. Bucky threw his arms in the air.

“Easy, sweetheart,” Bucky said as calm as he could manage, his gaze flickering to your finger still held against the trigger. It was like you were seeing straight through him. “It’s just me. It’s just me, honey.”

It took a moment before the realization flashed behind your eyes.

“James?” You lowered the gun until it hung loosely at your side, your voice nearly breaking over his name. The relief in it was enough to overwhelm him. He nodded, stepping forward and gently easing the gun out of your hands. You released it gratefully.

“It’s over,” you said simply, leaning against Bucky’s chest as you stared down at Rumlow’s body. Six total shots. Five littered over his chest. One planted between his eyes. Bucky let a hand run against your hair, his lips pressing to your crown. Small comforts he could offer.

“Are you alright?” he asked, though his stomach was aching in dread. He knew there was no comforting answer to that question, not after the hell you’d been through tonight, but he hoped nonetheless.

“I am now,” was all you replied. You couldn’t seem to take your eyes away from Rumlow. It was like you were committing it to memory – an image to draw upon when the nightmares came – to remind yourself that he was dead and it had been at your hands.

“Thank you for coming,” you murmured against his shirt and Bucky started to wonder if you were still in shock. You said it as casually as one might after a dinner party.

“Hey, I’ll always come for you,” Bucky promised, an oath he’d never once doubted. Still, he sighed. “Looks like you didn’t need me though, huh?”

“I’ll always need you.” You stepped back out of his hold and this time, you looked more like yourself. You offered him a soft, tentative smile. “But it’s nice to know I can take care of myself, too.” Your gaze flickered to Rumlow. “He underestimated me again.”

“His last time,” Bucky confirmed, pride in his chest.

“I’ll have to thank Nat for all the defense classes,” you grinned. It was a strange kind of normal to be teasing as you stood over the dead body of your ex-husband, who was definitely very much dead this time.

“I’m sure she’ll be thrilled,” Bucky chuckled.

“And Sam! Sam always volunteered to stand in as—” You froze, eyes wide as your hand clapped over your mouth. “Oh my God, Sam. What happened? Is he okay? Is he alive?”

“He’s in surgery now,” Bucky replied quickly before the panic could completely set you over the edge. “Come on, I’ll bring you to the hospital. I want to get you checked out anyway.”

You nodded, leaning into Bucky’s side as he guided you back towards his car. “What about Brock?”

Bucky shrugged. “I’d rather leave him to the animals, but I’ll talk to Steve. We’ll take care of it. You’ve done enough, sweetheart.”

“Can you call Peter?” you asked as you spotted Bucky’s car in the distance. “I know it’s not rational, but I want to make sure Brock didn’t-- that he didn’t do anything to go after Peter, too.”

“Of course. You want him to meet us at the hospital?”

You smiled, a wash of relief in your eyes. You nodded.

Bucky opened the car door for you, helping to ease you gently into the seat despite the hiss of pain you released with the movement. He tried not to pay attention to the rope burns on your wrists. He’d ask the nurses to pay careful attention there. You still had scars underneath from the last time.

Bucky took an extra moment as he closed the door behind you, standing straight and taking in a breath of fresh air. The chill of the cold, starless night around him was almost a comfort as he tried to center himself. There would be time for the guilt complex nagging at the back of his head later. But right now, you needed him. He could be strong for you.

When Bucky slid into the driver’s seat, you set your hand on his right forearm almost immediately. He drove with a single hand on the wheel, his right resting against the clutch. The contact was warm and welcomed and it helped to drive out his own monsters as your thumb brushed along his skin.

“We’re okay, aren’t we?” you asked quietly as the remains of the mansion drifted out of focus in the rearview.

“That’s a loaded question, sweetheart,” Bucky replied. He shifted his arm to let your hand slide down into his. His fingers curled around your own and he brought your hand to his lips. He kissed each knuckle one by one as he kept his eyes on the road. “If by ‘okay’, you’re asking if I’m still here with you, if I still love you as much as I did this morning, or a year ago, or the day I met you? Then yes, honey, we’re okay.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “But if... if you’re asking because I didn’t believe you when you said Rumlow was alive, because I wrote off your fears as nightmares and let this happen to you and—”

“We’re okay,” you told him sternly, tugging your intertwined hands to your own lips. You pressed a kiss to the back of his hand. “This isn’t your fault, Bucky. We had every reason to believe he was dead. This shouldn’t have happened. But it’s not because of something you did wrong. This is on Brock. Only him.”

Bucky nodded. He felt for the slight squeeze of your hand against his; that beautiful, little reminder that you were there with him no matter where his head wandered.

“He’s certainly dead now,” Bucky exhaled. He smiled, catching your eye. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

You laughed and still he was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. “I don’t know if incredible is the right word. Vengeful, maybe. Pissed off. Scorned.”

“Strong. Fearless. Determined,” Bucky countered sincerely. “I know what it took for you to do that. I’m... I’m just really proud of you. You fought with the devil and survived.”

You sat back in your seat, staring at the trees as they passed by with a content look on your face. Relaxed for the first time in months.

“I wouldn’t give Brock that kind of credit,” you shrugged. “He was just a man. He doesn’t get to be anything more. He doesn’t have that kind of power over me. Not anymore.”

Bucky clenched his jaw in an effort to hold in the light beaming from his chest. He stole a quick glance at you, watching as you sought out the stars through clouds. His brave, wonderful girl. He wasn’t sure ‘proud’ was even strong enough anymore.

“You know Sam will hold this over you for at least a decade, right?” you laughed, shooting Bucky a teasing smirk despite the dirt on your face and the leaves still caught in your hair. You’d been through hell and you were still smiling.

“Trust me, I know,” Bucky groaned with a short shake of his head. He couldn’t help but return your smile. “I’ll give him three years and then he’s capped.”

“Three? How generous of you.”

“He’ll survive with almost no serious damage and a new battle scar to show off,” Bucky rolled his eyes. “Three is pushing it.”

When he caught your eye again, his cheeks were hurting from how wide he was smiling. There were near tears in your eyes from laughter. He wasn’t sure what god to thank for you, for bringing you back home to him in one piece, for letting you smile and laugh and hold joy in your heart after all that had happened to you. But he would thank them all.

***

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you

[prongcollar]

So here's the thing.. I'm not a writer, but I wrote a thing. Rather, I wrote a piece of a thing. I came up with a prompt loosely based on the whumptober stuff and it kind of wouldn't leave me alone and I basically said 'fine, I'll do it myself'.

The prompt is this: Bucky hears the news of Rumlow's death while hiding out in Bucharest and struggles to come to terms with it so he starts to imagine/hallucinate Rumlow visiting him.

I have a mere 350 words for the beginning, many thoughts about the rest, an allergy to Decisions & Commitment, and no fucking idea what I'm doing so here have this:

The newscaster’s shrill voice rang in his ears. The light in her eyes gave testify to the joy that hid behind the objective way she relayed the story. Her controlled expression and tone gave off the appearance of pure professionalism, but her body language told him the truth: this news pleased her.

“Known HYDRA agent and terrorist Brock Rumlow a.k.a. Crossbones was confirmed dead during the terrorist attack in Lagos earlier this morning.”

The ringing in his ears persisted. There was a grainy photo of Commander Rumlow's scarred face displayed on screen alongside the newscaster; his twisted scowl presented a stark contrast against her barely concealed smile.

“Rumlow led the attack on the Institute for Infectious Diseases in Lagos, Nigeria with the intent of stealing a biological chemical weapon. He was joined by a group of mercenaries whose allegiance is still currently unknown."

The ringing in his ears rose to join the cacophony of his increasingly beating heart. All other noises around him faded into the buzz and breathing had become somewhat of a chore.

"Reports state that after the group was intercepted by the vigilantes known as the Avengers, Rumlow activated the bomb vest he was wearing. He was then thrown into a nearby building when the superhuman Scarlet Witch lost control of her powers while attempting to contain the explosion. Several Wakandan relief aid workers inside the building also lost their lives."

The ringing got so loud it drowned out any of the newscaster's words that followed. The screen showed shaky video of a blasted-out building spewing gray smoke alongside the photo of Commander Rumlow. He stared at the screen hard enough everything that wasn't the smoking black pit started to blur. Maybe if he got closer he might be able to see his Commander's charred remains to confirm for himself. It wouldn't be the first- with a colorful swipe the image changed, erasing the view of scarred cheeks and charred bricks. He blinked back to focus on the world around him, scanned the room, adjusted the bill of his cap, and ducked out of the store.

#hmm tags.. #once again i have no idea what i am doing #i am merely a plastic bag floating aimlessly in a sea of fantastic writers #i know this is Not Much but I think my best chances of actually continuing is to just commit this piece by posting it and move on #ive already gone back through several times and changed stuff without actually writing any further so yeah #its been at least a decade since I've done any sort of creative writing but i always really enjoyed it so I want to give this a shot #absolutely any kind of feedback is welcome #fic #my fic

[sokoviaaccordsarticle16]

alphabet meme

W, P, and L!

🐙🐙🐙

L - Say something genuinely nice about a character who isn’t one of your faves (chars you’re neutral on are fair game, as are chars you dislike)

Ooh Alexander Pierce! Not a character I dislike at all, but I’m completely neutral on him, and he’s not my favorite for HTP stories. That being said - Robert Redford’s ACTING?? Amazing! The calm, affable facade that never really seem to crack? His smiling veneer of grandfatherly geniality?? So great and creepy! I love the sense of total control he maintains at all times, especially in front of superhumans (Steve and Bucky) that could physically destroy him. And he is a consummate diplomat - he’s always trying to convince others to join his cause, right up until the very end. And unlike some political villains, he’s also not afraid to get his hands dirty.

P - Invent a random AU for any fandom (we always need more ideas)

Ooh I’ve discussed this with @spintwinwb a bit, but an AU where Jack Rollins is an EKO Scorpion soldier in deep cover as a sleeper agent in Hydra. (Would that be a triple agent?? Reverse double agent??) this is largely based on how sexy Callan Mulvey is with an Eastern European accent (watch his clips in Power, everyone!)

W - 5 favorite ships and 5 kinks you like best for said ships

Rumlow/Bucky - abuse of authority; non-con… but with feelings (bad ones! …sexy bad ones!); dehumanization; internalized homophobia (from Brock); PRAISE KINK

Zemo/Bucky - dub-con; heavy dom/sub; light pet play; unhealthy coping mechanisms; Bucky retreating back into the Soldier’s headspace

Rollins/Bucky - Jesus frankly I’m not even sure I have specific kinks for these two. I just love the idea of Rollins being mostly asexual but enjoying getting Bucky all hot and bothered. I guess some dom/sub elements in this one, too, with Rollins as the unflappable, amused dom/top.

Angel/Cordelia - oh god, again, not sure if I have specific kinks for these two I just LOVE THEM so much! Frankly I see Cordelia more as the top, but I love some Angelus/Cordelia action too, especially where she can hold her own.

Darla/Angel(us) - ooh that borderline incest dynamic first off is delicious; masochism/sadism; co-rapist couple; open relationships; emotional manipulation

#thanks for the ask!!

[not-close-to-straight]

Shadowed Hearts/Winter Souls (Chapter Twenty-Two)

MASTERLIST

TW: Character Death (But It's a Bad Guy)

**********************

The letter came ten days later.

Natalia refused to leave Sokovia before finding out what had happened, and she refused to leave the town while there was still smoke from the manor visible on the horizon. Tony rented rooms in the closest inn, paid piles of coin to the owners to ensure that they forgot he and Natalia were ever there, and spent his days drafting telegrams to be delivered to Brescia.

The time had come for him to fulfill his promise to keep their little family safe, and as soon as Natalia was ready to leave, they would be gone.

Ten days it took news to come, the message brought by way of Mr. Lee, who ran nervous hands through his thinning hair and pushed his glasses up his nose , handing the letter to Natalia with a whispered, “So sorry, my dear girl.”

Nakhozyl had fallen to the rebel forces, attacked before sun up and taken by sun down with little loss of life on the Sokovian side. But the Komandir had been terribly injured, thrown from his horse and captured, dragged away with the retreating Tsar's men, gone before anyone realized what had happened. Samuel and Ronin had been captured hours West, too intent on making it to the manor to notice they were being watched, and they'd been apprehended only hours away from the village, dragged away fighting and shouting and spilling blood trying to reach home.

There was no word as to who had come to set the manor on fire or even why the house had been burned to nothing more than rocks, but apparently no one was worried that the Black Widow hadn’t been captured. They assumed she was dead, and if not dead, heartbroken and powerless and therefore unimportant. The word from spies in the cities said the Tsar was furious over the loss of Nakhozyl, furious with his Generals for not culling the rebel army sooner, furious that even with the help of a high ranking traitor, his men had been no match for the Winter Soldier. Rumour had it the Tsar was talking about emancipating  Sokovia even now, disgusted with the loss of life, exhausted from the war, irritated at having expended so many resources on a tiny piece of Russia he'd never ever seen. If the worthless little country wanted to be on their own, so be it. Brock Rumlow was thrown out in disgrace, the Generals having used him for all they needed, forsaking the promise of protection they’d made when he’d come to their side. Apparently Rumlow was in hiding, none of the still installed spies having seen hide nor hair of the man since at least a week before Nakhozyl. Natalia read the letter twice through, and then handed it Tony, who passed it over to Wanda.

Then the Black Widow penned a letter of her own, the first time she'd used the spy channels in years, her message brief and to the point, explicit in it's instructions and threatening for anyone who dared disobey.

"Just this one more thing, Antonio." She told Tony that morning, exhaustion filtering through the words. "Just this one more thing, and then you can take us away." 

*********** It took less than three days. *********** The ground where the manor had stood was black and ugly, a scar that snow had yet to cover, crystals of ice clinging to the few pieces that had refused to burn entirely away. The stone stairs were still standing, leading to nothing since the foyer had turned to ash, some pieces of thick carpet left in what had been the parlor, fallen through from the second floor as the floors had warped and melted and burned. Tony had had enough presence of mind to free the horses before the stables had ignited, but the Falconers lodge was nothing more than a few charred beams, the carriage house non existent, the wagon disintegrated to nothing inside. The orchards and gardens Natalia had hoped to revive in the spring were gone, any hint of anything that might have been green simply vanished into the ruined earth. The woodshed and it's carefully hoarded stockpiles had acted as kindling, the pantry where they’d painstakingly stored enough food for the family for the season eliminated, the air still smelling acrid of seared animal fat and spices scorched. It was gone. It was all gone and as Brock Rumlow was dragged from a blacked out carriage with hands and feet shackled, he stared around him at the destruction in sickening awe. ….he’d never meant for this… ...not for this… Natalia was beautiful standing there among all the destruction, her brightly red hair perfectly styled, cheeks rouged and lips painted. She was wrapped in fine fur, brilliant sable and gorgeous velvet and she looked every inch a noblewoman, every inch the Natalia Romanova he had known for so many years, every inch the Black Widow and as Rumlow was forced to his knees in front of her, he knew there was no pity to be found in those wicked green eyes. “Don’t go anywhere.” Natalia told the men that had snatched Rumlow from his hide away in a non descript inn, two rebel soldiers known for their tracking, for their cruelty, for their uncanny ability to find anyone and anything no matter how cold the trail. It had taken them two days to find Rumlow after word had come from the Black Widow-- Bring me Rumlow and bring him alive, or I will substitute your body in place of his-- and the soldiers were all too happy to deliver the traitor into her waiting hands. “Don’t go anywhere.” she told them without taking her eyes off Rumlow. “I had to ride a horse here and I didn’t enjoy it at all. I’ll be requiring a ride in the carriage back to the inn.” “My Lady Romanova.” one of the soldiers murmured respectfully and pulled his partner back a considerable distance. Neither wanted to be close when the Widow exacted her revenge. “Brock Rumlow.” She said flatly and Brock started talking, rambling, panicking-- “Natalia. I swear, I swear I didn’t tell them where you lived. I tried to convince them to leave you alone, I thought they’d go after James, not after you, not after the children, I swear--” “Shut up.” Natalia ordered, and Rumlow shut up, watching with wide eyes as Natalia opened the bottle in her hands and tossed the cork away. “You have ruined my life, Rumlow.” The former soldier flinched when Natalia tipped the bottle over and poured it onto his head, the too sharp scent of kerosene stinging his nose as it ran down his face. The liquid trickled down his neck and soaked into his jacket, dripped down his sleeves and landed in blots around his bent knees and Brock closed his eyes as fear climbed up his throat and strangled him to silence. Surely she wouldn’t-- “This is for the soldiers you killed with your greed, the families you ruined because you are a coward and a traitor and sent them willingly into a fight they could not win.” Natalia shook the empty bottle and then broke it on the rocks where Rumlow was kneeling, wiping her hands very carefully on a rag before tossing that at him as well. “This is for my family.” Natalia took a cigarette from her coat and lit it with steady fingers, pulling deep at the cloves and tobacco and exhaling into the frigid air. “For my children the twins, for Antonio, for my brother your komandir and for the men I loved.” “Because we have been through far too much and you didn’t so much as hesitate before striking at our heart.” Another slow inhale, those sharp eyes never leaving Rumlow’s face. “Because James trusted you with his life, he trusted you with my life, and you betrayed us both. You betrayed us all.” “You have taken everything from me.” Natalia was whispering now, her throat working as she swallowed. “And I cannot imagine a death that is as cruel as you deserve. Letting you rot in a Sokovian prison is too merciful because you should not be allowed to breathe that long, but putting a bullet through your head is too painless because you should have to hurt longer than that.”

"You should have to hurt like I'm going to hurt, every day, for the rest of my life." “Natalia--” Rumlow whispered. “Mercy--I never meant for it to go this far. I only meant for James-- we all wanted this war to end and I thought if James was out of the way--"

The Widow narrowed her eyes and Brock faltered. "My--my Lady. Mercy. Please."   “I do not know that word.” Natalia said coldly. “It burned away with the last pieces of my home, and now you will burn too.” “Natalia--!” “This is for my family.” Natalia said again, lighting another match and holding it out for Rumlow to see. “And it is still not enough.”

************* Rumlow screams echoed across the empty valley for a long time, longer than it seemed possible for a man to burn, long enough that even the two other soldiers turned away and closed their eyes, long enough that Natalia finished her cigarette and lit another, watching the man melt away without expression, without emotion, without a single care. And when it was over, Natalia tethered her horse to the back of the carriage and climbed inside, telling the driver, “Take me to the city.” and sitting back to not say another word. It was well past dinner before the carriage arrived at the train station, and Tony looked up with dull eyes and a haggard expression when Natalia finally entered the rail car that was meant to carry them away. “I didn’t think you were going to come.” He admitted, a bone deep weariness dragging the words, two weeks of grief and pain and loneliness rendering his voice flat, emotionless. “I had one last thing to finish.” Natalia sat herself across from Tony, pulling her collar up around her neck. “But I’m ready to go now.” “Do you want one last look?” Tony asked and Natalia’s full lips lifted in a dim approximation of a smile. "Want to say good bye?" “Good bye to what? This wretched place has taken everything from me. I never want to see it again.”

"Yeah." Tony swallowed and sat back in his seat. "Yeah, I understand." The train pulled from the station and headed West, taking the tattered pieces of their family along with it. Tony, traveling the same tracks he’d come along a year previous, back when he thought his heart was as broken as it could ever be. Natalia, with her gaze set resolutely on the floor so she wouldn’t see Sokovia disappearing behind them, one hand resting on the curve of her stomach hidden beneath her heavy coat. And in the very back of the car, Wanda sat at Pietro’s bedside and held his burned, bandaged fingers in her own, reading out loud from her novel in hopes that the words would reach Pietro, would encourage him to open his one good eye, would bring any sort of response from her twin because Wanda didn’t know what she would do if she lost him too. Natalia didn’t cry as the sun set on everything that had been her life, and Tony only put a hand to his heart when the last of the Sokovian peaks disappeared as night caught up with the train and plunged it into darkness. “Shadows and winter.” Natalia whispered and Tony closed his eyes so he wouldn't rage over the unfairness of it all. “My life is nothing more than shadows and winter.”

***********

SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THE CHAPTER!

************

@bethy-sue @shipeveryonetogether @shadowrayven @hausoffro @thereaderandwriterwithin @zerokrox-blog @zuretha-metal @tstilcr @larissaloki @blackhearted @itsallyd @megahuffledor @tabziecat @ceealaina @cwar1864 @pidgist @yukina64 @multishippinglife @susana0 @paranormalmoonlight5 @girlnic @vgurl18 @sw3etpotat0 @jade-taillia @glitternotgold73 @atomicfandombomb

#ncts fics #winteriron

[causticausality]

Heliotropism [Steve Rogers/Brock Rumlow]

I.

Brock was the big guy around with his wide grin, funny stand up schticks, and quick one twos in the ring. It didn’t hurt that the bastard just had to twirl his finger around and things would be dropped in a room, people suddenly bending low to retrieve them. All for a wink, a dumb pick up line. He was a bomb disposal unit’s crack job number one. That guy. That kind of guy, at least, Steve had thought so. It was safe to say that he’d fell into that orbit easy, like a moth to flame, sunflower to sunlight.

“Heliotropism, Cap. See, I can give those college good-to-dos a run for their money, eh?”

II.

It was Steve that loomed, Rumlow on his knees, down with nowhere to go. That didn’t stop the man from smiling something ugly though, skin marred from the even tan it used to be. When the heavy gauntlets smashed his way, he almost didn’t block them. And when a charred mouth ploughed into his, he didn’t block that either. How far did humiliation go? He held his lips slack as it was plundered, even swallowed the saliva left under his tongue afterwards. To this day, the ticket stub of a Dodger’s game still sat in his wallet, marker of their first outing. 

"When you got to go, you got to go. And you're coming with me.”

III.

If it hadn’t been Wanda, he might’ve, too. Gone. Sought after the heat of that explosive.

Bucky, Peggy, even fucking Crossbones.

He just kept missing his chances.

#steve rogers #brock rumlow #rumrogers #starbones #hydra trash party #writing

[marveltrumpshate]

June 2021 MTH fills part 1/2

Happy summer! If you live somewhere hot, keep cool by staying indoors and enjoying these works.

The best way to see all the fills that have been shared with us is our monthly roundups tag or our #MTH-fills channel on our Discord, but you can also view them through the following methods:

Our Tumblr tags: 2018, 2019, 2020

Our AO3 collections: 2018, 2019, 2020 (only has works posted to AO3)

Completed works tag list: 2018, 2019, 2020

To find specific content, use our completed works tag lists above which includes instructions on how to search for a particular character, gen or romantic relationship, universe, and fanwork type.  

@artgroves - “Your Plans and those Slow Hands” (616 ‘60s-era Steve/Tony relaxing together in an armchair in the Avengers mansion library) for @nostalgicatsea, @betheflame, @sineala, @magicasen, @kiyaar, InfiniteGem, @tonbotomoe, @hundredthousands-art, @ishipallthings, and wynnesome (also on Tumblr and Twitter) 

@avidreader6 - “Invisible Strings” (Sleeping Beauty soulmate harem Steve/Tony AU fic) for @amiyusesha

Embroidery by Rebecca/@embroid-away - Cross-stitch embroidery piece of Rogue and Remy hugging, based on the cover of X-Men #24 (1993)

Eriot/@latelierderiot - Rotoscope of Bucky and Tony kissing for @kimmycup, @missmoodybear, @saganarojanaolt, @rise-up-ting-ting-like-glitter,  @wonderland-girl, and @bill-longbow (also on Twitter)

@kowaiyoukai - “The Face of America” (Steve/Tony soulmate fic where both of them get their soulmarks on live news) for @mizzy2k (MTH 2019)

Neutralchaos/@chaosdraws - Art of Brock looking at angry mer!Jack Rollins in a tank for @kalika999

@neverweremine - “The Best of Intentions” (Harry Osborn/Peter Parker Hanahaki AU fic set in the 2018 Marvel's Spider-Man video game) for imbaby_ca

@newtypeshadow - “you deserve good things (please say I’m a good thing)” (Bucky/Tony no powers matchmaking fic) for @betheflame

#monthly roundup #june 2021 #mth 2019 #mth 2020 #char: brock rumlow #char: Bucky Barnes #char: Harry Osborn #char: jack rollins #char: Peter Parker #char: Remy LeBeau #char: Rogue #char: Steve Rogers #char: Tony Stark #ship: hydrahusbands #ship: parksborn #ship: remyrogue #ship: stony #ship: winteriron #universe: 616 #universe: AU #universe: MCU #universe: spidermanps4 #auction: art #auction: craft #auction: fic

[marveltrumpshate]

March 2021 MTH fills part 1/3

Happy spring! The best way to see all the fills that have been shared with us is our monthly roundups tag or our #MTH-fills channel on our Discord, but you can also view them through the following methods:

Our Tumblr tags: 2018, 2019, 2020

Our AO3 collections: 2018, 2019, 2020 (only has works posted to AO3)

Completed works tag list: 2018, 2019, 2020

To find specific content, use our completed works tag lists above which includes instructions on how to search for a particular character, gen or romantic relationship, universe, and fanwork type. 

@ali-aliska “Safe House” (post-CA:TWS Bucky/Tony secret identity hurt/comfort AU fic) for @whatshouldntbe (MTH 2019)

@areiton - “chains around my daemons” (Steve/Tony soulmate daemon AU fic) for @bthehufflepuff208

@bachaboska - “Second Chance” (video where Brock Rumlow is used by the Avengers to find his lover, Jack Rollins) (also on AO3) for @kalika999

@blue-scribbl3s - Art of pre-serum Steve on a white background with red and blue watercolor paint splatters for @haspel-and-berry (MTH 2019)

@cakeisnotpie - “The Hawk and the Mage” (12th-century masked heroes Clint/Phil AU fic) for @miladydragon

Celticas/@quartzcelticas - “A Bullet is Worth a Thousand Words” (Bucky/Daisy post-TWS/AO3 season 3 fic where both of them meet while on the run) for @jaune-chat

@flightinflame - “Her Flawed Gem” (Emma/Scott hurt/comfort fic) for @mmgth

@geekymoviemom/@geeky-writes - “Heart of Blue” (fluffy, domestic Superfamily fic that is a missing/extra scene from their fic "Pieces of Echoes") for positronic - “Trapped in the Shadows” (Steve/Tony bookstore AU fic) for @betheflame

@glittercake - “Shaken” (PI!Sam/barman!Bucky meet cute AU fic where Sam goes to a dive bar to investigate disappearances in the city and meets Bucky) for @velociraptorerin

#march 2021 #monthly roundup #mth 2019 #mth 2020 #char: brock rumlow #char: Bucky Barnes #char: Clint Barton #char: daisy johnson #char: Emma Frost #char: Jack Rollins #char: Peter Parker #char: Phil Coulson #char: Sam Wilson #char: Scott Summers #char: steve rogers #char: tony stark #ship: buckydaisy #ship: gen #ship: hydrahusbands #ship: phlint #ship: scemma #ship: stony #ship: winterfalcon #ship: winteriron #universe: 616 #universe: AU #universe: mcu #auction: art #auction: fic #auction: video

[marveltrumpshate]

March 2021 MTH fills part 3/3

Part 1 | Part 2

The best way to see all the fills that have been shared with us is our monthly roundups tag or our #MTH-fills channel on our Discord, but you can also view them through the following methods:

Our Tumblr tags: 2018, 2019, 2020

Our AO3 collections: 2018, 2019, 2020 (only has works posted to AO3)

Completed works tag list: 2018, 2019, 2020

To find specific content, use our completed works tag lists above which includes instructions on how to search for a particular character, gen or romantic relationship, universe, and fanwork type. 

Regularity - “Spider-Woman Complicates Everything” (post-Secret Invasion Carol Danvers/Jessica Drew/Jennifer Walters soulmate fic) for asexualartemis

@semperfiona - Podfic of “Breaking the Ice,” a Steve/Bucky hypothermia/huddling for warmth fic by @dsudis for @seleneaurora

Slothie - Aaron Davis and Miles Morales owl plushies for simply-charlie - Brock Rumlow and Jack Rollins bat plushies for @kalika999

@st4rking - Art of a topless Steve kissing Tony who’s wearing a crop top for @gotthesilver

Tipsy_Kitty/@tipsyxkitty - Podfic of “On a Pale Horse,” a Steve/Bucky fantasy AU fic by leveragehunters where Steve is a human transformed into a horse by a curse for @potterspink

WinterRaven/@ravensonata - “Light me... and I’ll burn for you” (firefighter!Steve/teacher!Bucky AU fic) for stucky1980 (MTH 2019)

#march 2021 #monthly roundup #mth 2019 #mth 2020 #char: Aaron Davis #char: Brock Rumlow #char: Bucky Barnes #char: Carol Danvers #char: Jack Rollins #char: Jennifer Walters #char: Jessica Drew #char: Miles Morales #char: Steve Rogers #char: Tony Stark #ship: caroljessjen #ship: stony #ship: stucky #universe: 616 #universe: AU #universe: MCU #universe: SM:ITS #auction: art #auction: fic #auction: craft #auction: podfic

[marveltrumpshate]

August 2020 MTH fills part 2

See part 1 here.

The best way to see all the fills that have been shared with us is our monthly roundups, but you can also check out the MTH 2019 tag on our Tumblr, “Marvel Trumps Hate 2019” collection on AO3, #MTH-fills channel on our Discord, or our monthly roundups at the end of this post. To find specific content, use our completed works tag list which includes instructions on how to search for a particular character, gen or romantic relationship, universe, and fanwork type.  

You can see 2018 fills by checking out the MTH 2018 tag on our Tumblr, “Marvel Trumps Hate 2018” collection on AO3, #MTH-fills channel on our Discord, or our monthly roundups below. To find specific content, use our completed MTH 2018 works tag list. 

@jaune-chat - “Needing Is One Thing, Getting Is Another” (Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow amnesia friends-to-lovers fic) for @kalika999

kozunos/@osheets - Art of vampire Stephen Strange and Pepper with blood on their lips and Tony lying between them with a bloody neck for @essouffle - Art of Stephen Strange affectionately touching Loki’s face while Loki grabs his shirt for @aurorawest

MarvelousMenagerie/@hddnone - “The Boyfriend Phenomenon” (MCU Bucky/Tony domestic fluff fic) for @echowolves

@nixie-deangel - “Privateers, We Be” (Bruce/Thor/Valkyrie pirate AU fic and moodboard) for @nachodiablo

@uofmdragon - “By the Bow” (Clint/Coulson medieval fantasy road trip AU fic) for @scifigrl47

PAST MONTHLY ROUNDUP POSTS

2018: November | December

2019: January | February | March | April | May | June | July | August | September (1 & 2) | October (1 & 2) | November (1, 2, & 3) | December (1 & 2)

January 2020 part 1 | part 2

February 2020 part 1 | part 2 | part 3

March 2020 part 1 | part 2 | part 3

April 2020

May 2020 part 1 | part 2

June 2020

July 2020 part 1 | part 2

#monthly roundup #mth 2019 #august 2020 #char: Brock Rumlow #char: Bruce Banner #char: Bucky Barnes #char: Clint Barton #char: Jack Rollins #char: Loki #char: Pepper Potts #char: Phil Coulson #char: Thor #char: Tony Stark #char: Stephen Strange #char: Valkyrie #ship: brucethorkyrie #ship: hydrahusbands #ship: pepperironstrange #ship: phlint #ship: strangeloki #ship: winteriron #universe: AU #universe: MCU #auction: art #auction: digital #auction: fic