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#winter soldier

Whoa Bessie, set during James’s captivity overseas

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When they take James from the tiny dirt-walled room in which he’s been imprisoned, the first thing that strikes him is the light.  It’s not bright outside; in fact, it’s raining, but it burns his corneas nonetheless. James moans and tries bringing his cuffed wrists up to cover his eyes.  

The second thing that strikes him is the back of one of his guard’s hands, straight to the side of his face.  The man’s wearing a heavy ring that catches James in the teeth.  Blood drips down his lip, and the guard laughs.  Says something in Farsi that James is pretty sure is insulting.  Two more men behind them start laughing as well.  

James sets his jaw and swallows.  The coppery rust taste fills his mouth.  A fleeting idea hits that his own blood is probably the most nutritious thing that’s gone down his throat this week.  The thought makes him want to vomit, and he nearly does, but the third thing that strikes him is the blunt end of a machete, and James wills himself to settle.

He shuts his eyes to a squint and lets the men lead him blindly for a while, dragging his feet through the sand.  Puffs of dust rise high enough to coat the insides of James’s nose and mouth every time he breathes, but he supposes it’s better than the alternative.  Grit gathers at the corners of his eyes, and involuntary tears stream down his cheeks.  One of the guards notices, and he digs his finger into one of the muddy tear tracks, and the fourth thing to strike James is a slur, muttered close to his face in heavily accented English: “Crybaby.  You crybaby, no?”

James stays silent.  Then he spits dregs of blood onto the ground between his feet.  It’s half an insult, half a utilitarian act to clear his mouth.  He’ll leave it up to his captors to guess which one.  At this point, he’s not so sure he cares which they choose.

More discussion in Farsi follows.  The consensus seems to be that they only hate James a little more, for the guard in front yanks on his chains and pulls him into a sloppy jog toward what James can now see is a car sitting in a cracked asphalt lot maybe half a football field ahead of them.  

So they have a destination, at least.  What that means, James doesn’t quite know.  He does know that he’ll get to sit down.  Maybe get a chance to check that he still has his precious letter stashed in his sock.  Perhaps he’ll get a few minutes to breathe before the fifth thing will strike him, the IED buried by the side of the road.  Then he’ll have just enough life in him to realize he’s survived before the sixth thing strikes, the sweep that lifts him into the arms of unconsciousness.

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Chapter Twelve

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Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 3644

Chapter Warning: Torture, Blood and Graphic Violence **This chapter contains a graphic torture sequence that might be disturbing to some, if you think this will bother you, skip the Hydra Research Base Sokovia part**

Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Blood/Gore, Murder, Torture, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Angst, Fluff

Series Summary: Another Winter Soldier has been activated, someone from Bucky’s past. As the Avengers track down the new head of Hydra, Bucky struggles to help you overcome your programming, finding a piece of himself that was missing all along.

A/N: This is a very dark story, please heed the chapter and series warnings. There will be fluff and healing, but there’s a lot of Hydra darkness to wade through first.

Keep reading

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Winter often will snarl at anyone who looks at you with anything other than friendly intentions, and even then he might glare at them for even looking at you. But the moment you close the bedroom door behind you, Winter’s gaze softens and pulls you close, burying his face in your hair. 

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series masterlist

series summary: bucky needs a tutor and y/n’s an straight A student who just broke up with her ex

taglist is open lavs (leave a message or send an ask since comments aren’t that reliable for me since notifs r shit and sometimes notifications for comments don’t show up at all)

PS: if u don’t know what a rant/tea account is, it’s basically an account where you can anonymously send shit and they post it


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A/N: tyler’s dad is cancelled, we just need to cancel tyler next so bucky and y/n can be happy….unless-

TAGLIST (this means I can’t find your username):  @thelostallycat / @thomasthetankson / @cchiffoncake / @supraveng / @archangelslollipop / @mariah-vg / @ijustwantmyshipstobehappy / @divinediego / @sexualsebstan / @sireddobrev / @choosetherightsong / @intovert-gone-wild / @howliebucky / @catthecreator / @reidcult / @learisa / @safetypinxtales / @antmnwasp / @its-leviosa-ronald / @hailmary-yramliah / @whatinthyworld / @justab-eautifulmess / @simplybarnes / @jxtr610 / @starkeysgirl / @alyssatjuhhh / @spatium-viatorem / @sheridans-dynamos / @officiallydarkgeek / @the-salty-asian / @bonkyboinkybucky / @rororo06 / @valeriiaaass / @keenmarvellover / @roryshitposts / @m-blasterrr / @the-romanian-is-bae / @saharanblood / @shawnie–jo / @buckys-henley / @strawberry-gothchild / @commanderrykov / @welcometothegeekyside  / @saveyourbucky / @vibraniumdaisies / @sxphiiwrld / @winedrunkbarnes / @wxstedhexrt / @matsumama / @asleepywirewolf / @bbarnestan / @xoxabs88xox / @thefridgeismybestie​ / @wtfevenismypage / @coonflix / @dottirose /  @xbabykookiix​ / @grey-water-colors​ / @butterfliesinthenightsky​ / @cosvic-brownie​ / @ssaaraw / @cicibunbuns​ / @captainamerica-is-bae​ / @adorkably​ / @some-selene-stuffs​ / @fuckeverybody​ / @b-buckys​ / @rhyrhy462​ / @no1queen​ / @goalexis123​ / @jbarness​ / @nerdgirljen​ / @momobaby227​ / @speedypartyducksuitcase / @glossedangel​ / @mylifeiscrazy0423​ / @captain-america5​ / @nykie-1dluv​ / @bihoeofmanyfandoms / @tom-hunter-summah​ / @bish-its-me​ / @x-abi-sharp-x​ / @eddiesbifocals / @godess-of-mischief / @your-daddy-rai​ / @yagirl-ninaa​ / @literate-lamb​ / @fanofeverything44​ / @psych0crybaby​ / @lowkeysaurus​ / @crookedcoppatrolmonger / @daniellarogers​ / @aikeia​ / @ayo-cowbelly​ / @storiesbystarlight​ / @flaring-vibes​ / @roleplay-multifandom​ / @witchymarvelspacecase​ / @strangersstranger​ / @roxytheimmortal

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bebxAnswer

Takes place after the events of Civil War and Thor: Ragnarok in which Infinity War and Endgame never happen.


  • In the beginning, no one thought they could be left alone in a room together, let alone be friends
  • They were like two hurt kittens who are super feisty. Not to mention the many issues they’ve been carrying that even the best shrink may find them a lost cause.
  • They met in the Avengers compound. It took Thor a great deal of effort to persuade Tony into agreeing with him to let Loki stay. Loki has changed. He isn’t the bad guy anymore (Since Asgard was destroyed, they’re basically homeless) And Steve needed his best friend — so, funny story, Tony was very much annoyed by the Captain and the Thunderer that he went, ’screw it. Fine. You do whatever the hell you want. This is a shelter for stray villains now. There. Happy?
  • So that’s how Loki and Bucky ended up in the compound.
  • At first it was like… an unspoken rule. No one knew what will happen, but they guessed it’s better safe than sorry. So, to prevent any bloodbath, the team kind of made sure Loki and Bucky were kept separately.
  • But perhaps it was meant to be, or perhaps it was simply the fact they couldn’t keep the two feisty cats from interacting with each other forever when they literally lived in the same place.
  • “Bucky, this is Loki.” “Loki, this is Bucky. Now you two wanna say hello to each other?”
  • Awkward was an understatement because, instead of saying hello, it’s nice to meet you, the two of them kept staring at each other like they were plotting each other’s murder. The silence in the air sharp enough it could cut. Until, Steve wasn’t sure who broke it first, but said silence was broken by the Trickster’s and the Winter Soldier’s demonic hiss. Literal hiss and all-teeth snarls.
  • “Well,” Thor said, gently nudging Steve. “Could be worse. At least they didn’t try to rip apart each other’s throats the first second they met.”
  • Well, Steve shrugged, could be worse.
  • Indeed, it could be worse. But what they have — between the two of them — was certainly not anywhere near pleasant, either. As in they might not physically try to rip apart each other’s throats yet but they also made sure the feud they had for each other got under everyone’s skin.
  • Like, it was a Saturday morning and really, no one wanted to wake up so damn early. Bucky and Loki shared different belief, because apparently they thought it was a good idea to wake the entire compound up by their nasty little shenanigans.
  • “What’s the damn commotion about?” Asked a very confused and done Tony Stark. His arms crossed over his chest. He looked like he wanted to crawl back in bed and so were the rest.
  • He stole my eyeliners,” Bucky yelled, pointing at Loki, because damnit he was furious.
  • “Oh please, you don’t even know how to use the damn thing anyway. Have you seen yourself in the mirror after you smeared it around your eyes?”
  • “Loki,” that was Thor. His voice stern and with a hint of warning.
  • “What?” Loki snapped at his brother. “So now you’re siding with him? After he threw his metal arm at my face and nearly broke my neck?”
  • “You did what?” That was Steve, to Bucky.
  • “Really Steve? You are going to give me that face with that tone? Tell him to give it back!”
  • “The eyeliners or the arm?” Natasha asked, she sounded genuine.
  • “You know what, both would be lovely.” Bucky stomped away and into his room, slamming the door shut with his only arm with a loud bang.
  • And really, the team hadn’t actually the faintest idea how to deal with… these two.
  • Two feisty cats in a cave together. A whole calamity.
  • To sit them down and have them talk — actual talk instead of killing each other — was hard. Though not impossible.
  • When it happened, it wasn’t because Steve or Thor put them in a ‘This is Our Get Along’ shirt.
  • It just… happened.
  • Because, after all, they have so much in common; both of them were forced — tortured — into doing something they wanted no part in with their hands tied. A puppet under someone else’s control.
  • “I almost killed my best friend,” “I almost killed my brother,” and they both sounded… sad.
  • “I killed innocent people.”
  • “I don’t deserve this second chance.”
  • “I’m a monster. Or at least that’s what I’m labeled as.”
  • “They made me do it.”
  • “I wanted none of that,”
  • As crazy as it sounded, it almost felt like they were the only ones who truly understood each other.
  • Because they had been through the same thing.
  • “I’m sorry I stole your eyeliners,” “Sorry I threw my arm at you,”
  • Then they became… overprotective of each other. Like, very, very overprotective. If anyone messed with one of them, they messed with the other.
  • They had these inside jokes that Thor was sure had many things to do with him because what are they giggling about? Why are they looking at me like that??
  • And Bucky liked to complain to Loki about how reckless and idiotic Steve was. Loki was a pretty good listener, by the way.
  • They practiced knife fight together. Which was how they earned the names Stabby no.1 and Stabby no.2
  • And Loki taught Bucky how to apply proper eyeliners.


I’m currently accepting requests. If you have any, feel free to drop them in my inbox!

List of characters/pairings I write for
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Writers month day 9: illness

Chasing ghosts

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James is on his knees in front of the toilet when Tasha gets home from her afternoon classes. He hears her slam the door without locking it, then throw her backpack and collapse on the sofa. By the time he’s flushed and washed up, she’s flipping through channels on the TV and ignoring the chemistry textbook in her lap.

“What’s up with you?” Tasha asks, raising her brows at him.

“Ugh.” James clears a clot of mucous from the back of his throat. “Sick.”

“Where’s Superman?” Tasha looks around as if Steve might be hiding behind the living room chair.

“He carpooled with…somebody,” James says, blanking on the name. “Somebody Stark? From engineering? He’s got that project…”

“Right…” James can tell she doesn’t care. “How long is he gone?”

Of course that’s what Tasha cares about. How much trouble she can get into before the household goody-two-shoes gets home.

James shrugs. His head is going hot and his knees wobbly again. Saliva pools under his tongue, and he glances meaningfully in the direction of the bathroom.

“Yeah, if you’re gonna hurl again, don’t do it in front of me.” Tasha picks up her book and holds it an inch from her nose with one hand while she works a miniature bottle out of her pocket with the other.

“Yeah,” James sighs. “Have fun.”

“You too.”

What must be the better part of an hour later, Tasha bangs on the already open bathroom door. “Jamie?” she calls.

“Huh?” James’s elbow slips into the toilet bowl, splashing sick back onto the front if his shirt.

“You’ve been going for, like, ever.”

She’s right. James’s stomach is more than empty; he’s been spitting up bile for the last couple rounds.

“Yeah,” he replies hoarsely. “Sorry.”

“For what?” Tasha almost laughs. “It’s not my bathroom you’re dirtying up.”

It’s true, even if it’s not very funny. “I just…” James mutters, “I really don’t feel good.”

“Yeah, I bet.” Tasha looks at her watch. “It’s still early. You could go to student health and get, I don’t know. A gatorade IV, or something.”

“Intravenous fluids, you mean?” James does laugh this time. Then he coughs until he gags. “Saline drip? Do they even do that outside a hospital?”

“Yeah, they’ve done it to me.”

James looks up at her. “…I don’t want to know.”

“Come on,” Tasha says, leaning down to offer James her arm.

“Wait, wait,” James protests. “We can’t. Not till Steve gets home.”

“Nah.” There’s a twinkle in Tasha’s eye. “His car’s here.”

“But—“ James sputters. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Nothing! Like one shot!”

“Pills?”

“None, I swear.” Tasha puts up her hands in an ‘I’m innocent’ gesture.

“I—I don’t—“ James’s vision swims, and he finds himself propped on Tasha’s shoulder.

“Yeah, you do. Come on.”

He’s beyond arguing; James feels as if he’ll vomit up his toenails if he so much as opens his mouth. He lets Tasha support him down to the parking lot and into the passenger seat of Steve’s car with a plastic bag nestled into hos lap.

“No messes, ok?” Tasha instructs. “No evidence.”

James offers a shaky thumbs up.

Tasha rounds the car and starts it up, taking just a moment longer than makes James comfortable looking down at the controls.

“Ok?” He checks in.

“Just, uh, not used to Toyota.”

“Honda,” James mutters, spit dripping off his lip and into the bag in his lap.

“Whatever.” Tasha starts the car, backs out of the lot, and gets on the main road.

James clenches his sore abdominal muscles and holds the sides of the bag for a moment, but once Tasha’s comfortably cruising a few miles over the speed limit, he begins to relax. His eyes start to glaze over, and he returns his attention keeping his insides internal.

Suddenly, the seatbelt cuts painfully across James’s chest as he flies forward in his seat. Bitter chyme and spit spray from his mouth, spattering the inside of the windshield. The brakes squeal, and Tasha’s voice shrieks out, “Move, you thing!”

“The fuck?” James coughs, wiping his face on his sleeve. He squints out in front of him just in time to see the dark shape of a groundhog skitter to the other side of the road.

Tasha starts to laugh shakily, then presses the gas pedal again. The car jumps forward before she gets a handle on the required pressure for a smooth ride.

“That was…” James shakes his head. A retch rises in his throat, but when it comes up, it’s accompanied by a peal of laughter.

Tasha glances at him. Then she starts to giggle as well. “Yeah. Wow.”

James spits. “Count that as a moment of sibling bonding?”

“I don’t know what else to call it.”

“Maybe don’t tell Steve,” James suggests. “We’ll have to clean the car, but better he not know we were almost killed by a… thing.”

“Hey.” Tasha reaches out to punch James’s shoulder.

“Stop, I’m sick, remember?”

“Don’t know how I could have possibly forgot…” She shakes her head.

James takes a breath. “Thanks, Tash. For doing this.”

“Eh, you’re kind of worth it,” she says with a shrug. “I hope they stick you with a big needle, though.”

“Right,” James says. Because that’s his baby sister, through and through.

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