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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

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A Stark Contrast | Bucky Barnes

Summary; living in the shadow of Tony, your brother, always was the way, and you accepted it. That was until he expected you to sign the accords, that was one thing that you couldn’t do.

Warnings; Angst, mentions of death, mentions of being controlled, funeral, mourning, anger

The form, bound in a weighty book laid on the table, making the room fill with utmost tension. Tony was hellbent on signing the thing, and handing away any freedom that all of you had.

No matter how long you had supported him, this was not one subject that you could agree with him on. Whilst you understood his perspective, it would only end up with you in a hamster wheel, running around and following the orders of executives.

They wanted less destruction. To put boundaries around their country’s heroes, and limit them to the lengths they could go to in order to save lives.

That was also wrong, the entire ordeal had you bent backwards with a conflict of interests. On one hand, it would be ordinary to sign for such a cause, whether you trusted their backgrounds or not, simply because your elder sibling had.

There was nobody that you trusted more than Tony, he had half raised you after your parents were killed, you felt indebted to him. But being an avenger, on a team where your personal opinion had been valued, it opened your eyes to a whole range of possibilities.

Whilst you were loyal to Tony, you had also became in tune with your own gut. It grumbled at the prospect of giving in to a contract, which decided what you were permitted to do. It was like a child’s parent permission slip, but on a much grander scale.

“People died!” He reminded the lot of you again, which inclined you to look down. There was blood on all of your hands, and he was making it as red as it could possibly be seen. “At least y/n agrees with me.” He reprimanded Steve, whom was still far on the fence regarding the entire ordeal.

Once he said that, all eyes had shifted towards you. Nat had already basically given in to your brother’s convictions, and Steve suspected that you would do the same. You were always one step behind Tony, you were far too loyal to your sibling for your own good.

“I have yet to make up my mind.” You spoke, standing, no longer wishing to be in the room where there was far too much tension. How you wished Banner and Thor were here, they would make an equal divide. The God of Thunder would not scribble his signature upon the paper, you thought to yourself, if he knew their reasons and affects.

However, your words were taken as an assumption that you would join your sibling in providing a peaceful surrender. It is what he and the public would assume of you, and to be truthful, you were tired of sticking to the stereotypes that were made of you.

“I’m surprised that you came.” Steve spoke, as you opened the boot of your car, and revealed the shield that he was so often adorned with, as well as Sam’s wings. He, like most others, had suspected that you would join your brother in his guilt ridden cause, however, thinking for yourself gave you a sense of freedom.

“Don’t be so quick to prevail into what everyone else thinks of me.” You smirked at the captain, your eyes drifting over to the other super soldier, whom had temporarily been imprisoned by the government.

But he had escaped, and if luck was not often a Stark trait, Tony would have died. You had watched from the cameras, but you could boil no bad blood in between the pair of you, Barnes was not in his right mind. He was controlled, and put into a incomprehensible mode of himself. That was, unless, he had managed to kill Tony.

Then you would have changed your own deciding mind, and stuck to what the eldest Stark believed in. “I won’t, ever again.” Sam smiled, picking up redwing from the composed pile, and kissing the machine.

“Bucky.” You reiterated his name, the one that he had chosen to correct the unknown and deceiving man on. The nod you earnt was brief, but it gave you a sense of hope that whirled in your middle.

It was clear that he was an attractive man, and alike his righteous friend, he was frozen through time to be in this current moment. As Sam and Steve began to get their things together, you walked over to the historical stranger, a smile upon your face. “I’m y/n Stark, I don’t believe we have had the fortune of meeting before.”

“You sure do speak like a Stark.” He softly spoke, a matching smile on his brawn face. “And you seem to have other things in common, like that necklace.” At his words, you looked down at it, a hint of anguish within your gaze.

“It belonged to my mother.” It was nice to reminisce about her for a moment, you knew that she would have made her own decisions too. In some retrospect, you were following in her footsteps.

A feeling grew in the back of Bucky’s throat, but he said nothing. If he were to spill, or reveal his dark secret, it would mean nothing more than the loss of a powerful asset, they could not afford that right now.

“Do you ever think about what would have happened if you got to return home?” It had been a stressful day, fighting your friends, and your last living family member. Bucky turned at your words, you had saved him from being killed, he felt indebted.

“Probably do what every other soldier did; find a woman to marry and have kids. But that’s far out of the picture in this modern age.” Steve was flying the aircraft as you and Bucky spoke in the back. It gave the two of you a moment alone, and you were truly knowing as though you knew the soldier.

He was a good man, misinterpreted by the deeds that he was controlled to do. No one chose to have pity on Barnes, they instead viewed him as a country danger, and wanted to lock him up in a cage, which was how he had come so far in the first place.

“I wouldn’t say that.” For a moment, you looked into his deep blue eyes, feeling as though he were freezing you with them. He didn’t want to look away, but you were inclined to, for you could feel the contrasts of hot and cold heat working its way up your neck, and onto your face. “There’s definitely a woman that would want all that and more with you.”

If things were simpler, you would be convinced that you could share such an intimate bond with him, but alas, everything had to be complicated. And if things could work out, they surely couldn’t last.

“We’re here.” Steve informed the both of you, as he slid out of his front seat, and you prepared to finish this for once and for all.

“How could you?!” You couldn’t defend him as Tony blasted him away, Bucky had played you, and done so well. He and Steve knew of the blood on his hands, and yet they hadn’t thought once to inform you of the one true treachery regrading you.

Bucky had killed your mother, from the intake of information alone, you felt sick. Physically sick. But you choked it down, and as Steve unsurely came towards you, you ran at him, angered by his lies.

From the start, the patriot of America, someone you had considered a friend had deceived you. You had helped him, stood with him, fought your friends for him, and not to mention Tony, and he had known all along.

“Y/n-”

“Save your apologies Rogers.” You stared him down, as he had Bucky held up by one arm, seeing as Barnes had lost one of his own again. “And you, you’re right, there’s no perfect picture, you’re nothing but a monster.”

“Listen.” Steve commanded, but you couldn’t. He was no longer considered your captain, he was a sick liar who had helped to break you. This was the last time that you made your own decisions. Tony was always right.

“You don’t deserve that shield, my father made that. It’s government property-” swiftly he dropped said item, an exhausted and tiresome expression upon Steve’s helmet wearing face.

As soon as they trudged by, you instantly went to Tony, checking his wounds. “You were right brother, I should have listened to you.”

“Your dad loved cheeseburgers too.” You laughed lightly to Morgan, blinking back the tears. It was Tony’s funeral, there were so many people here, even Fury, but there was someone else, who was walking towards you. “Why don’t you go and ask Happy, I have some business that I have to tend to quickly.”

“Okay auntie y/n.” She ran off. She was so innocent, she didn’t deserve to be going to her father’s funeral at five years old, it was truly cruel. But that was just the way the world worked, and Tony was a hero.

“Hi.” Bucky spoke, adorned in all black, same as you. It had been a long time since you had seen him, not since he was being carried away by Steve. You hadn’t fought in Wakanda, instead you had ended up on Titan with your brother, and you would have surely died without him.

“Hey Barnes.” You greeted him with a forced smile, but nevertheless allowed him to step closer.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” He said, the guilt still burning behind his eyes. It seemed that his time in Wakanda had changed him, for the better.

“Which one?” You quipped back, instantaneously.

“All of them.” He gulped, he was going to give you one truth before you found out after. It was his attempt at redemption, and a sorrowful one at that. “Steve’s returning the stones later.”

“I know.” You responded, the captain had already informed you about that part of his plan.

“And he’s not coming back.”

“Anthony Howard and Steven Nathan Barnes, the two of you better get back here this instant!” Your voice hollered through the house, as well as the duo’s endless giggles.

The front door opened, no other than Bucky walking through. He was quick to recognise the flash of motherly anger upon your face, and quickly dropped his serene smile.

“What have they done?” Bucky asked, watching as you crossed your arms in an unimpressed manner.

“Why don’t you ask your sons?” Your husband sighed, but despite that, he was a happy man. He had returned from a war, and found a lovely wife, of which he had two troublesome boys with. For the first time in a long time, y/n Stark and Bucky Barnes were happy.

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omegas-spaghettios · 2 years

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Steve's Civil War Idealism is so Frustrating

Yes I'm still thinking about this, yes I'm lame.

This is not a post to slander any character involved, I at least like all the characters I talk about and I love quite a few. I also love Steve, to specify.

In Civil War, Steve says "the safest hands are still our own", with reference to not signing the Accords, and the way he speaks amounts to him seemingly wanting to do what he wants to without fear of consequence.

Seriously, who would Steve hold himself accountable to? Who? Steve is wearing a red, white and blue costume under the name Captain America, running around the world with no legal jurisdiction to save people in what he sees is the right way, and almost without fail leaves with dead, innocent bodies in his wake. The idea is that he doesn't want the Avengers to become military assets, but he's acting like the US military does, just without what little reigns them in. He, under the American name, is running around the world and fighting people he thinks are threats, leaving dead bodies, and going home.

Now we as the audience see that his judgement is usually sound and what I said isn't the full picture, but look at this as a citizen of this world. Who is holding him or the Avengers accountable for mistakes? If they fail on the job, who is going to make sure they are discharged or retrained? Police today are (supposed) to be discharged or fired for messing up in extreme ways, there is no accountability like that for the Avengers. We are just supposed to trust that they know what's best and how to do it, there is no reasonable way to hold them accountable. And we as the audience may trust him, but the people of the world are supposed to trust that this one guy will do everything right, and if he doesn't there is no way to hold him accountable for it. Would that fly today? In the US, would we let police dispense justice HOWEVER they seemed fit with no consequence for messing up?

That's what Steve is advocating for. He can't save everyone, yes, but he wants a world where everyone just trusts that a dozen or so super powered individuals can save everybody and will not mess up in extreme ways.

Hell, the Avengers have an alien norse god that comes down sometimes to help them. There is no alternative, no idea to make sure that what Thor is doing is held to a standard. Now, how are we as a world reasonably going to hold someone as powerful as Thor accountable? We can't. Presumably the Avengers would be monitoring their own, but they don't.

Tony and Bruce both made Ultron. Now I will not hear that it's Wanda's fault, she'll get her turn. Tony made this on his own free will, he was not mind controlled during, thus it's on him and Bruce. Ultron's creation led to the destruction of Sokovia, and we see in What If...? What very easily could have happened.

Now many people say this is just Tony's fault (Bruce gets a pass and idk why), and yes, Ultron's creation is on them. But Steve and the others have accountability because they never hold Tony and Bruce accountable. Tony and Bruce made a machine that resulted in tons of death and destruction, and the worst they get is a slap on the wrist. The Avengers fight alongside Tony, they take his money, they use his facilities. Tony and Bruce are directly responsible for mass death and destruction and the Avengers never take them to task for it. And under Steve's worldview, since he and the Avengers aren't doing it, no one can.

They defend Bruce and harbor him. We as an audience know it isn't his fault and that he is a net positive in the world. Even though the world at large knows this by Civil War, try telling that to the people that the Hulk has killed while rampaging. Everytime it happens the Avengers just kind of get sad and move on. Sure, they have reactive measures like the Hulkbuster, but that's just it, they are reactive, not proactive. The Hulk needs to start hurting people and doing damage before the Avengers step in to minimize it. I would not accept that as a citizen of that world. Our protectors protect us but are also prone to killing who they are protecting, and we are just supposed to accept that? Which brings me to one of the most under discussed MCU scenes, Hulk's South Africa rampage in AoU.

Wanda is directly responsible here. She did something to Bruce, left unclear, but the result is clear. The Hulk is unleashed on Johannesburg. People die. Wanda created that situation on her own free will. But the Avengers? They harbor Wanda as their own, she never is actually confronted about this action by anyone other than Bruce, at least from what I remember. And Bruce is still brought places, he is a risk to who everyone is protecting but the Avengers still opt to bring him because he is needed. We as the citizens of the world are supposed to just accept that? The Avengers are defending us so Tony's, Bruce's, and Wanda's mess ups are acceptable?

This doesn't just end with AoU, either, this continues well into Endgame.

Clint stacks bodies miles high in Endgame as Ronin, and as of Hawkeye Episode 2, presumably the public at large does not know about it. Come to think of it, the public doesn't seem to know about Ultron's creation or Wanda's involvement with Ultron, either. Clint stacks bodies up like cards. To be fair: Nat's team of 6 (Nat, Rhodes, Nebula, Rocket, Carol, and Okoye) do seem to be actively tracking him down to stop him, but Steve notably has no involvement. Again, Steve sees his own doing harm in the world and he does nothing, but "the safest hands are still our own"?

Steve and the Avengers need to be held accountable. Now we can say the government isn't trustworthy, which I agree with, but who else reasonably could? "The people"? The people hold him accountable through government. No provision is going to make Steve perfectly happy because he seems to want to just run around and do what he thinks is right. Hell, we all hate John Walker, but at least when he screwed up he was held SOMEWHAT accountable.

Steve's stance is bullheaded, really. We as the audience might agree but as actual citizens of the MCU, I think we would feel a lot more inclined to disagree with him.

(Sidenote: the Accords and the way it was handled was backhanded and a snake move, Tony isn't right either, and the fact that the government wants to hold superheroes accountable but then hired Thunderbolt Ross to do it is so laughable, cause he did such a "good" job stopping the Hulk. I'm not saying the Accords was the answer, I actually believe the contrary, but Steve's stance still is incredibly frustrating to me.)

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homieswithhades · 3 years

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why steve rogers returning to the past was wrong

disclaimer: im clearly a stucky enthusiast, but please, do not be thrown off by that. i admit, there may be undertones of bias because of that in the following, but i did my best with trying to lay out the facts and draw logical conclusions, so do please give me a chance. also, i may have accidentaly omitted some moments and some quotes may not be 100% word for word, as my memory lowkey sucks. ALSO this is NOT a peggy hate post!! i think shes a dope and underrated character and quite frankly she was done dirty. but i also definitely h8 the trope of badass woman falls for the hero.

first and foremost, every sane person knows endgame was complete and utter bullshit when dealing with steves character, so this post will be more for you to maybe show (and hopefully convince) some stubborn friend or family member. nice, concise (not) and including proof from the movies (+a few tweets and stucky undertones, if u dont fw that i respect it but bucky is an integral part to steves character regardless of how u interpret their relationship) here is why steves character development was thrown away at the end of endgame.

let us begin at looking at the cap trilogy.

in ca:tfa it should be noted that steve had no one to return to in the 40s, except bucky. i believe steves relationship with peggy was no where near as developed as it should have been to elicit him returning exclusively for her. as we are aware, steves driving force has absolutely always been bucky. bucky was there for steve after his parents died, when he was sick, and always protected him from whatever trouble he got himself into. "until the end of the line" right? steves relationship with peggy was forced and short lived, literally, we're talking a matter of months here. i need to keep emphasising the important disparity between bucky and peggy, as it is absolutely key in this whole argument. steve dropped everything and went against every order just to even attempt to save bucky. even the slightest chance of him surviving being captured was enough for steve to break into a hydra camp and free the 107th division. steve even had the chance to capture zola, one of the main villains and masterminds of the war, but again, steve prioritised bucky. when theyre trying to escape the exploding hydra camp, the exchange between steve and bucky is critical. steve says "go! get out of here!" as all he wanted was bucky escaping safely. he put bucky's life over his own (this wasnt the first time he did this, nor the last) but bucky rooted himself to the spot, and yelled back "no, not without you!". they both escaped safely as we know, and then steve gathers the howling commandos to take down the red skull. bucky then falls off the train, nd steve blames himself for his death, even visibly crying over it twice. steves morals went from "i dont wanna kill anyone. i dont like bullies, i dont care where theyre from" before buckys death, to "i wont stop until all of hydra are dead or captured" after. stuff happens and steve defeats the red skull and is now in control of the flying ship with the bombs. he connects the comms with peggy and she tries to convince him theres another way to disarm the ship. steve was so dedicated at that point he didnt even want to hear it. he didnt even attempt to do anything to ensure his survival. this alone proves, peggy was not important enough to him to return to.

next is ca:tws. The stevebucky movie. in the museum, peggy confirms that steve saved the man from the 107th division who eventually became her husband (steve was never in the 107th, just to clarify) i believe her husbands name was daniel sousa (as revealed in the marvels agents of shield show) steve then finds out peggy is alive and talks to her. she, in short, tells him she's lived her life, and it was his turn to live his in the time hes in. the "my best girl" line was unnecessary and out of place; again, steve barely knew her. again, shit goes down, and steve finds out the winter soldier is bucky and immediately drops everything, and becomes dead set on saving him. not killing, not imprisoning, but saving him. no matter the cost. "he saw me, and he didnt even know me" "hes not the kind you save, hes the kind you stop. he won't recognise you" "he will." god, steve KNEW bucky would recognise him. regardless of the brainwashing, steve managed to break through the barrier hydra fought so hard to drill into buckys mind. nothing ever broke him out of that state exept for steve. "im not gonna fight you, youre my friend." "youre my mission" "then finish it. cos im with you till the end of the line." [[good fucking lord let me break out of my essay-esque semi professional format here and just say how fucking heartbreaking those lines are. oh my god. read them, over and over until it hits you.]] steve shows us again, that he is willing to not only die for bucky, but literally die by his hand. he would let bucky kill him. he'd dropped his shield. he didnt fight back. steve always, always, ALWAYS got up and fought back. always. exept that time. the time bucky could have killed him. that scene is the essence of "im with you till the end of the line" because then, it was true. it was true because steve was okay with dying at buckys mercy. theres a difference between sacrificing yourself for the greater good (steve going into the ice), willing to die for someone (steve risking his life multiple times in attempts to save bucky) and finally, being willing to let someone kill you, because you love and trust them so much (hellicarier scene). the difference between peggy and bucky's relationship to steve is that steve may be willing to die for either, but only willing to be killed by one. not to mention, bucky pulled steve from the river. he recognised him. steve broke through 70 years of brainwashing with such impact it literally drove bucky away from hydra out of his own free will.

in between ca:tws and ca:cw its confirmed (im p sure sam says it) that him and steve looked for bucky for two. years. even off screen, bucky was steves priority.

im going to squeeze in 2 points from from age of ultron here, for chronology's sake:

steves worst nightmare, as portayed in the movie, is LITERALLY going back to the 40s and being stuck there (with peggy too??lmfao) and also the quote "family, stability, the man who wanted all that went in the ice 75 years ago. i think another one came out." objectively confirms that steve isn't the man he used to be, and doesnt want to return to the past. aou may have sucked, but that doesn't mean the character development should be thrown away.

ca:cw. hoo boy. steve went against 117 countries and half of his closest friends and colleagues because he believed bucky was innocent of the bombing of the un conference. god, steve quite literally, did everything to defend and protect bucky. though i shall acknowledge that steve did attend peggy's funeral, however, there was no real connotations there other than the fact he was mourning her death (understabdibly so). steve then proceeds to protect bucky for 2 hours 27 mins and 41 seconds to the point where they escape together to siberia after the airport fight. "i dont know if im worth all this steve" "what you did all those years... it wasnt you. you didnt have a choice." "i know. but i did it" again, absolutely heartbreaking quotes if you read it a couple of times and truly understand the meaning of them. steve somewhat indirectly tells bucky yes, yes he is worth all of this. otherwise, he wouldn't be doing it. a quote to support that would be "for the longest time, i always did what i thought was right." (disclaimer this is not a direct quote i deadass couldnt find it to save my life, i belive steve said it at some point during civil war or tws, but the point is, bucky is the only thing that could have shaken steves morals so intensely.) and finally, the most important part of cw, the fight at the end with tony. bucky and steve constantly protected each other. steve kept fighting because he was fighting for bucky. to keep him safe from tony and the world. he got up, time and time again. "i can do this all day." the fact that he said that to tony, some people consider them the closest of friends, proves again, a million times over, bucky is more important to steve than literally anything else, INCLUDING his shield. his mantle. he dropped it and left it like it was nothing, because his priority was bucky. as always.

theres not much to discuss for infinity war other than their hug whicg was honestly just adorable.

mmmmm endgame. i will not go into how much i hate that movie because it would be a rant quintuple the length of this one. in the support group, steve dead ass fucking says "you gotta move on. you gotta move on" and that sentiment was literally forgotten at the end. my main point for endgame is this. people tend to tell me, the reason steve abandoned bucky and went back to be with peggy is because he knew that he was finally safe. :/. if you had half a braincell youd know that's not true. the steve we know, never would have left bucky for good, ESPECIALLY after the "dont do anything stupid until i get back" exchange [[god i want to beat the shit out of the r*ssos]] mostly because, bucky had fucking no one in the time he was living in!!! no family, no friends and most heartbreakingly, no one he could trust. (yes sam was there but were just seeing their friendship develop now in tfatws, all that wasnt there in endgame) and secondly, what made steve think bucky was entirely safe??? half of the worlds population just suddenly reappeared, which as we see now, there were massive consequences for that. i simply believe steve is not that stupid. steve going back was disrespectful not only to his character, but to bucky AND peggy. most importantly, the steve we've been watching since 2011 would NEVER abandon bucky, no matter how safe he thought he was (he visited him frequently in wakanda, the safest place on the planet arguably ffs) especially for such a dumbass and quite frankly, nonsensical reason as going back to be with peggy, who clearly stated to him she moved on, and so should he (which he did. idk endgame writers prolly didnt watch the previous movies :/) its not even debatable. bucky is more important to steve than peggy. even in terms of screentime.

now allow some tweets to speak for me, this one being the absolute most important one:

ladies and gentlefolk, all of the stuff ive said can be summarised in that last line. "it would be contrary to who he is."

heres some more:

and now finally, id like to briefly mention steve and tfatws, so beware of spoilers (writing this as of ep 4 coming out; praying it doesn't age badly)

bucky mentions steve, unprompted, fucking constantly. he clearly isnt over steve leaving, and im hoping that gets acknowledged and talked out in the show.

in conclusion, tl:dr, steve shouldn't have returned to the past and stayed there, it is contrary to who he is, as shown to us through his trilogy and other appearances in the mcu. not to mention the timeline bullshit in endgame makes zero sense in the first place.

#long post #stucky #captain america #steve rogers #mcu #marvel #tfatws #bucky barnes #peggy carter #hwh's marvel thoughts #please dont bullshit me in the comments also i dont have the strength #imma hide this in the tags praying no 1 will b bothered to look but steve and bucky gay #everytime some1 calls their relationship brotherly it takes 10 years off my life nd makes me wanna impale myself ❤#also no beta we die like men #my meta

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gurlbesimpin · 2 years

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He *was* iron man (Tony stark x female reader) -short story-

The cold autumn wind sent shivers down your spine, as you stood there-

You stood there with the other avengers, one had shorter however. Mourning the loss of your, your leader, your mentor, your friend- a father?

He wasn’tyour father… but he fell like one. Sure he wasn’t the kindest person, also not the sweetest or most charming… but he cared. He really did. As much as he cared for peter, he cared for you. Not romantically, no. But, he seemed to care a lot about your well-being. If you were down or exhausted, whatever it may be, he was always the first to realize and jumped into action.

His tough, stubborn and arrogant personality, was in reality-caring and adoring.

Obviously… he was in denial. He denied really caring for anyone, or he just brushed it off as a „good deed,, or something. But, it wasn’t true. At least not for you and peter-

„i hope- he’s in a better place-„

Now, I may have just been his instincts since you two were the youngest, or he really just did it for no reason, but whatever it may have been… it was therapeutic and comforting. You’d vividly remember the times you were sitting somewhere in his workshop, rambling something as he worked on fixing and/or upgrading his gear. You’d watch as his normally neutral facial expression, turned annoyed as he occasionally dropped things. Sometimes even breaking them. He loved to talk about his past, in the military etc. But also loved talking about peter, his beloved peter. He fell like a son to him-

And, you like a daughter.

„i’d always call him Mr.stark“

You remember days, where you just hung out with peter and mr.stark, the countless times he’d let out his comedic side, but also- you remembered the sad times. The frustrating times

The times where the world felt dark, and there seemed to be no hope, but his warm embrace and kind words guiding you through your personal struggle. You could never pay him back, what he did was more than anyone has ever done for you. Even If it seemed to be the bare minimum for him, it was the most precious for you.

„I know- so did I“

You remember your whole entire life, not having birthdays. But since you were here, you did. Tony, peter and pepper seemed to care the most about your birthday, so did Steve and Wanda though. Tony would always make his best effort to get donuts and cake, papper cared for the decr were peter and the others would focus on a gift. The first time you walked into the large conference room, an saw cakes, flashing lights and gifts scattered across the table.

„his final moments, his sacrifice-„

The insane missions you went on, defending the world what whatever threat may come, losing apprentices along the way, fighting for you lives, betraying and being betrayed, eventually facing the god of mischief himself, Loki. Seeing him as one of your own, before realizing the truth, a similar situation accurd only months later as a surgeon entered his way into your field. Not accepting his inexplicable character, he found himself in a familiar situation as Loki did. But, some threats can’tbe eliminated without sacrificing something. Or someone

„in his words-„

As thano’s rampage finally came to a halt, Tony swore to bring peter back home, to- to save him. Hal of the population, turned to dust. You remember watching beloved peter suffer the same fate, which left Tony heartbroken. You feltghe familiar void of emotions crush around you once again. And Tony, Tony kept his promise. He swore- To protect, to defend, to be a champion, to be a hero.

„i am Iron man“

He swore-, that he… was Iron man

#iron man #tony stark #marvel #spiderman #the avengers #tony stark x stark!reader #ironman #tonystark #robert downey jr #captain america #black widow

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darkacademicfrom2021 · 3 years

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Away. So, so far away.

<<Previous part Masterlist Next part>>

Word count: 2K

Warnings: bullet wounds, hospital, swearing.

Oh darling, please believe me

I’ll never do you no harm…

The music reverberated through the whole floor. You danced around, and Bucky was the only one that joined you, if not a little shyly. Tony sat on the couch flipping through some news and sighed as he asked you to change to a better music.

“Nothing is better than The Beatles, Stark”, you said in between laughs, and Bucky flipped you in the air. His strength almost matched Loki’s, and you weren’t afraid of him dropping you to the floor.

Believe me when I tell you,

I’ll never do you no harm.

“Uh, I beg to differ”, he raised an eyebrow, still with his eyes on his current research. “By the way, are you coming to the next mission?”.

“I’ll ask Loki. I told him he could join me”.

“Well?”, he inquired, pointing with his head at the door from your room. You didn’t know if you wanted to say it out loud. The common room had not only Tony, but also Bucky, Steve and Clint. You sighed. "He's sleeping".

"Liar. You wouldn't be here".

“Okay. He’s out now”.

“Where? It’s four in the morning”, he laughed, and then dropped his news to look at you with concern, realizing. “Oh”.

“No, it’s not… it’s not what you think. He goes on walks to keep his mind busy”, you lied.

“Sure. At four in the morning”.

Oh darling, if you leave me,

I’ll never make it alone.

“Yes, we don’t question his ways, okay? He’s been feeling bad”, you defended him, and turned the music higher. With a hand gesture, you invited Steve to dance with you. He chuckled and accepted it.

Truth was, you had no idea where Loki was now. He kissed you goodnight when he thought you were asleep, muttered something along the lines of I’m sorry, I’ll get this fixed, and left around midnight. He should have been in bed by now, and you couldn’t call him or check on him in any way. Not without compromising the secretism, anyway.

And you were upset. You were so, so upset, because you’ve had fights about this for the past week, and still he thought it best to just do as he pleased when you were supposedly asleep. You were so, so upset. But concerned at best, because he never told you what his plan was about. He had no regard for his safety. He could be getting injured, at best. He could be getting killed under the hands of the Mad Titan or whoever huge predecessor of Layfey that would be guarding the throne. He could be getting hurt and killed and in pain and he blocked you out so you could do nothing about it.

So you danced. You drank coffee to keep you awake until he came home, and moved your hips to the rhythm of the music. Trying to forget the matter for a while.

Believe me when I beg you,

Don’t ever leave me alone.

“Hey”, called Thor, walking in with the pillow marks on his face. “Turn down that thing, it’s too late”, he asked. “Oh, you’re here. Where is my brother? Sleeping?”.

“On a long and weird walk”, said Clint without looking away from Steve’s awful dance moves. He was getting ready to pull off his phone and become famous on tiktok. You spinned under Steve’s old-fashioned steps.

“Walk? At these hours?”, he laughed. “My brother doesn’t do that”.

“Yes, he does”, you said nonchalantly, trying to hide your unease. Maybe you should’ve stayed in your room. That way, your loneliness in the late night wouldn’t be too evident.

You had grabbed Loki by the wrist before he left. He knew he didn’t leave you sleeping—you asked him to stay. You told him there was nothing he could do about it anymore. He murmured he could and he would, and the mere thought of being able to fix it all kept him up at night anyway, so he might as well go and get it.

You told him if he loved you he would stay. He told you he was doing this because he loved you. He told you it was the —only— way to keep both of you safe and together. You thought he was wrong, and that thought remained there, eating your brains alive, while you tried to dance it out. A knot in your throat kept you from talking any further.

When you told me you didn't need me anymore,

Well you know I nearly broke down and cried.

When you told me you didn't need me anymore,

Well you know I nearly broke down and died.

“Where is Loki?”, asked Thor once again, coming out of his room when the sun had already setted widely on the sky. No rain, a clear day, perfect for flying. The mission would start in the next three hours, and you were still waiting.

“Look, I really need to get a confirmation on whether I’m having you on the mission or not”, said Tony, losing his patience. “He’ll come back at some point, but you don’t need to worry about him. He’s a God on Earth. What would happen? He’d get mugged and stab the damn robber?”, he joked, and you pretended to laugh.

“You’re right. I’m going, count me in”.

Where was he, now?

Something was for sure, he was away.

And a week had passed. A whole week with its seven days, and you've received no notice whatsoever of your lover.

Thor seemed to know, yet he couldn't bring himself to say anything. He said it wasn't his place. He said he didn't know what Loki was thinking about. He said he didn't want to misinterpret his messages. He said a lot of things and none of them were comforting. None of them fulfilled your need to know —where is he, is he well, is he traveling, is he locked up, is he dead, is he with someone else, is he ever coming back, is he even trying to communicate—what's going on?

In the quinjet, you looked down the window. Bucky and Thor were in front of you, and Tony by your side, explaining the steps of the next mission. You weren't listening much. Just nodded. You knew those things never went as planned —having plans would usually get worse outcomes, from your experience. Plans wouldn't work.

You had one small plan; climb a mountain. You were going to a marvelous place, and you always wanted to climb them. It was completely possible you could get a few hours off, if not half a day to go and get it. You'd maybe convince your teammates.

Whatever you could do to keep your mind away from Loki's suicidal mission, whatever that may be.

"Buckle up, fellas", said Tony, getting into his suit already. "There's fighting to get through right now. We'll have to do the brainy part after".

And just like that, Thor with Mjölnir in hand, Bucky ripping off his sleeve and you getting your boots adjusted, jumped off the quinjet and landed on soft grass.

There weren't many people you had to fight. They were just very strong. You held your grip to Tony's suit as he flew with you all around the forest.

The rest… you might know how it goes. As it always does. You’re too reckless—words from everyone on the team, all the time—and you jumped off too quickly to catch Bucky’s bullet.

“Are you OUT OF YOUR MIND?”, yelled Bucky as he approached you. He applied pressure on the bullet wound and you gasped for your dear air as you felt a little dizzier and dizzier.

“You were about to get shot!”, you justified.

“I’m a supersoldier, you fucking idiot”.

“Do I look like I make rational decisions on the run?”.

“Here, as you lay on the floor bleeding out from an unnecessary bullet wound that would’ve been a fucking scratch on me? Yeah, no shit, you make great decisions on the run”.

“I thought you were shy to talk”.

“No, I just keep my mouth shut because people aren’t so stupid for me to talk back to them, but you just…”.

“Agh!”, you contorted in pain and then James decided to stop bitching about how you saved him from the hit—when he so clearly wanted to get shot instead—why would he care so much? “Could you… take me to the quinjet? There’s gotta be like a first aid kit in there or something”.

“What? You gonna put a bandaid over the bullet and call it a day? Come on, I’m taking you to the medbay”.

“No way, Buck. They’ll get me to a hospital for the day and won’t let me participate on the mission. Come on, just patch me up a little and don’t say anything”.

James rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“No”.

He took you to the medbay, and, as you predicted, you spent the night in the hospital. The whole night, and woke up the next morning in that same goddamn white bed with white sheets, surrounded by white walls and white everything. Except a dusted friend, who had been holding your hand the whole time.

Bucky, scratched from head to toe and very clearly lacking a shower and a good night of sleep, didn’t let go of your hand even when you woke up. And damn you who were only thinking about how that should be Loki by your side.

“Hey, morning sleepy head”.

“What are you doing here? You should be on the mission”, you reproached him with a smile. “Not here, being a good friend and all”.

“I wanted a day off work”.

You laughed. He seemed too tired to even move.

“Thanks”, you sighed, and looking out of the window, heard the door opening and Tony Stark walking in. “Oh, sorry boss”.

“Call me boss again and you’re fired”, he said, sitting on the foot of your bed. “You reckless, irresponsible idiot. You should be fired for this alone. You’re a danger to the team and especially to yourself”.

“Come on. I defended a member of the team”.

“You jumped in front of a supersoldier about to get a fucking mosquito bite out of a bullet, that's what you fucking did”.

“The spirit is what counts, after all?”, you tried, and he laughed shortly, only to come back with a meaner expression.

“Hell no”.

“At least I can go back to work today, right?”, you tried. Tony just laughed—that bastard. Fucking asshole. And where was Thor? Was he with his brother? No that he’d say anything.

Wow. Painkillers made you bitchy.

“We’re both taking the day to get you recovered, and Stark and Thor will handle the mission. Tomorrow you get back if you’re well rested and in enough shape, alright?”, explained Bucky with a softness that almost made you vomit. He was sugarcoating it—surrounding it with nice-sounding words and a soft-spoken voice.

“No way I came all the way here to not do shit and let you do all of the things I’m supposed to do”.

“We could climb that mountain you wanted to”, he tried, and then you were out of words. You thought about it for a few seconds.

“Okay”.

“Are you crazy? They’s got stitches. They can’t make efforts. Bed rest”, fought Tony. Bucky winked at you.

“That’s why I’m going with them. I’m gonna make sure they don’t get any worse, alright?”.

“Make sure they gets better”.

“Consider it done, chief”.

(Taglist: @lucywrites02 , @louieboo87 , @the-departed-potato , @jesuswasnotawhiteman , @idontknow296 , @beksib , @spythoschei , @geekwritersworld , @whatafuckingdumbass , @mysticunicorn7 @shadowolf993 , @joscelyn02 , @t00-pi , @selfship-mishaps , @sallymagnoliaposts , @deadgirl88 , @enderslove, @theonewiththenerds )

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not-close-to-straight · 3 years

Text

FATWS Episode 4

I’m finally fucking getting time to watch this thing.

Dramatic reactions, incoherent ramblings and spoilers under the cut.

Right off the bat I’m feeling like the only thing I really remember about Episode Three is vaguely not trusting Sharon Carter. I’m really supposed to believe Peggy Carters Niecey, defender of Captain America and dismantler of Hydra really is selling stolen art in Madripoor? Seems fake, but okay.

Let’s get into it.

Have I mentioned I love Karli’s freckles? Her hair and her freckles kill me, I never understood people who don’t think freckles are cute. They are actual dots of delightfulness

AYOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO AYO AYO AYO She is so ridiculously beautiful wtf. I’m shaving my head TOMORROW so I can be half as amazing as her.

Wait is this a Wakanda flashback? Six years ago... ohhhh look at my goatherder Jesus Bucky, let that baby rest. WHY IS SHE SAYING THE WORDS? LOOK AT HIS EYES PLEASE STOP. This is hurting my soul. Oh god homecoming, and it’s the moment he knew Steve. Oh the tears, I can’t. I CAN’T. “You are free” I’m already crying and it’s been 1.2 minutes.

Damn right the White Man doesn’t understand anything of their loss and shame. LISTEN TO BUCKY SPEAK WAKANDAN. I LOVE IT. Urgh she’s so beautiful. Her murder strut is impeccable. I’m in love and I’m swoooooooning.

“It was sweet of you to defend me” Zemo take ten to twenty percent off the top there, This isn’t a date.

Hey, I feel like I don’t love that they refer to Karli as “Karli”. If she was a man, it would be Last Name Basis. “She’s a kid” “she’s a supremacist.” hmmm seeing a parallel between Wanda and Karli and the way they were treated. “She’s a kid?” She’s actually ridiculously powerful but thanks for that. (no Wanda hate here, just pointing it out)

“My TT” ITS HIS AUNTIE BUCKY YOU’D KNOW THIS IF YOU WERE EVER INVITED TO THE COOKOUT

Uh Zemo, maybe we don’t be the creepy guy in the coat offering children candy. I mean, the tactic worked but you could literally not be creepier right now. Honestly I don’t know why I’m so surprised he’s keeping the Donya thing from them, duh he’s a villain, but I’m still surprised?? The sugar daddy role got me FOOLED

Sam being the one that understands what it means to be fighting to be on the other side of the “barbed wire fences” is so sad.

BUCKY’S MAD. Sam has something against head tilts, that’s so funny to me for some reason. I DON’T TRUST SHARON.

Why do I smell some foreshadowing with Karli’s talk about destroying the shield and how it’s a relic of a bygone era and a symbol of everyone that was left out

“take it easy before it gets weird” SAM.

John Walker literally looks more sketchy every time we see him. Also, if you can’t say “son, just don’t” and everyone stops in their tracks, you are NOT Captain America. Its worrying me that Battlestar (battleship? lmaoooo) is starting to side with BuckySam because if there’s one thing literally every movie has taught me, it’s that the person who switches sides ends up dead and if I have to watch a POC first be relegated to sidekick and then killed I might actually riot

It’s so good to see Sam being Counselor!Sam. I think that gets so overlooked with him and I think it’s one of the most defining traits of his character. He’s not just a soldier, he’s not just brave, he’s seen the loss and he knows the struggle and he chose to help others through it while also being equally willing to suit back up and save the world.

“Don’t patronize me” stop acting like a damn child. Why is John so twitchy, I don’t like it. OH is he really gonna say “this is easy for you, all this serum running through your veins” as if Bucky had a say in anything about in his life beyond Azzano.

GET HIM BITCH punch his raggedy ass!

Oh look at Bucky jumping, Winter Soldier, more like Winter Squirrel PARKOUR. Goddamn Zemo with his gun, oh no look at all that super soldier serum! I mean, you have to commend the guy for never wavering from his path. JOHN WALKER AND THE SERUM! It’s supposed to amplify what’s in your heart?? AND HE SUCKS OH NO.

The power broker texts her “little girl” that’s so gross.

“Separate them and kill Captain America” three months ago I would have howled at that line, now I’m like...meh.

Sam wouldn’t have taken the serum-- not surprising. He’s a good man all by himself. No serum needed. Have you seen those arms? Actual Cannons of Freedom and Justice. “What about bucky” I love that he’s thinking about Bucky. Someone please protect these boys.

Aw Bucky baby you’re not crazy. It’s funny to see him drink cos he definitely can’t get drunk. It’s the equivalent of some diva drinking a white wine spritzer.

WHY IS JOHN WALKER BACK.

THERE’S MY WOMEN OH MY GOD I HAVE NEVER BEEN MORE EXCITED IN MY LIFE. Do not shake her hand. John Walker, she will bite your hand off. Pointy Sticks, the Dora Milaje have jurisdiction wherever they want OMG HE TOUCHED HER omg. Look at Zemo sipping his drink LOOKING STRONG JOHN I CANNOT I CANNOT.

“Lets talk about this” Bucky is so calm. Bye bye Zemo. Oh GET it Sam with those fancy moves.

...what just happened with Bucky’s arm. what just happened. “James” oh man waht does that mean?! Has Wakanda left him? Has he dishonored Them? My brain is moving too fast for this.

I would like to have a moment of silence for John Walkers ego because he, a White Man (tm) and Solder (tm) and American (tm) just got his shit actually handed to him by a Black woman and he sat there and tried to more her “pointy stick” and couldn’t and then she full on did the shield kick thing while he sat on the ground and looked up at her and you know what? i think that’s very sexy of her, I will be watching this scene on repeat for the next hundred years wtf.

Also ALSO? This is it. This is the moment where The Man (tm) can’t handle being beat so he goes and does something stupid, this is it, isn’t it? The Man Pain he just can’t tolerate?

Oh my god Bucky’s face with his arm. I mean, it makes sense his arm would come off but to have himself literally disarmed (get it) in a fight is so... I mean it’s violating in a way, and its almost a betrayal as well but at the same time maaaaaaybe it’s a relief? Maybe its a relief to know he doesn’t always have to be a Soldier, he can take the arm off and just be Bucky??

Also I had to pause the show to write about this because my hand cramped up from trying to type too fast ughhh

Back into it

ARM PORN NOISES I LOVE THEM

Whats an El Chapo? Oh wait, I figured it out.

I love Lemar’s voice. He’s so confident talking about the serum but lets be perfectly honest, Karli Morgenthau and Steve Rogers are basically the same person a hundred years apart. If you don’t think Steve Rogers would have singlehandedly led a revolt against a world government he thought was wrong, you are 100% incorrect. Not that I think he wouldn’t have resorted to bombings etc, but also... that sort of life does awful things to people.

WHY IS SHE CALLING SARAH. “My world doesn’t matter to America” oh sweetheart, I feel that in my soul. Sarah knows who Sam is. She knows he’s not working for John Walker. This is the first time I’ve been anti-Karli. I know she’s desperate but you don’t threaten someones babies.

HEY LOOK THERE’S ME NOT TRUSTING SHARON AGAIN

It actually makes me angry to even see Walker carrying the shield like that. I’m aware it’s an overreaction, but your honor, I hate him.

...Lemar?

Don’t make me watch a POC die for some White Man’s story arc, don’t do that.

Oh. Shit.

Sam do something. SAM DO SOMETHING. HE’S NOT GOOD SAM!

My god do I love watching Bucky fight. Those Kicks of Vengeance will never get old. CAW CAW MOTHERFUCKER use them wings Sam.

Oh Hoskins is okay. Alright.

Bucky with the good knives, I LOVE HIM. The fight scenes are always so well coordinated in WS. We see you definitely not killing when you absolutely could.

OH FUCK HOSKINS WHAT THE FUCK I THOUGHT WE WEREN’T GOING TO DO THIS WHAT THE FUCK

...this makes me so mad wtf. We couldn’t have done this journey without pointlessly sacrificing a POC? No? Have to drag that trope out? Gonna make me watch another Black man be killed just so the White Guy can move his story forward.

oh shit Walker is MAD.

Fuck he just-- he just murdered someone with Steve’s shield. he just MURDERED SOMEONE WITH THE SHIELD AND EVERYONE WAS WATCHING.

And look at him, he feels no remorse. He feels perfectly justified. He is DARING them to say something to him. He is America (tm) brutally silencing protests and rebellions and taking his own issues out on people he feels disrespect him and you can’t tell him he’s wrong because he can justify every drop of blood by making it about how he felt “they beat me and they weren’t even super soldiers. they disobeyed me. they should have listened to me. they killed my friend.”

I keep hearing preserum Steve saying “I don’t like bullies” and then imagining him beating the shit out of Walker.

...That visual of the shield with blood on it... it’s so... shocking isn’t even the right word. Horrifying. Its horrifying.

I don’t even know what to say.

This episode was a whiplash. The writers of this series need to be commended. Also the stunt men and the fight choreographers. Fucking kudos, and now I need a stiff drink and a good cry because this episode took it OUT of me.

#falcon and the winter soldier

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sortasirius · 3 years

Text

Programing The Winter Soldier

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, heavy angst, this is seriously big sad hours

AN: This is so very sad and I definitely cried writing it lmao. I love Bucky Barnes so much.

Pairing: Steve/Bucky

Words: 3873

Read it on AO3 here

January 23, 1945

General,

Sgt. Barnes has undergone an initial mind wipe. Dr. Zola has succeeded in attaching the weapon to his shoulder. He has been put in the cryo-chamber as a test, and after some initial pain it looks as though it has worked.

We will begin reprogramming shortly.

Longing

Bucky wakes up in pain. His arm hurts. After a few moments of long, deep breaths where he decides he’s not, in fact, dead, he tries, experimentally, to move his fingers. To his relief, he finds he can, but something feels different, wrong. The clicking in his index finger, from where he had broken it when he was twelve defending Steve from some guy he had tried to fight in an alley after the creep had tried to grab at a woman on the street, was gone. The pain is gone there too, in fact he can’t feel anything below the burning where his shoulder meets something cold, something foreign.

He tries to look around, but it’s pitch black wherever he is. It’s also brutally fucking cold. He shivers violently, trying to get away from whatever cold metal is touching his skin, but no matter how far he leans, he can’t seem to get away from it.

Suddenly, without warning, fluorescent lights above him burst into life, and Bucky screws his eyes up against the sudden brightness. Blinking away the mild pain, he sees a man he vaguely recognizes coming toward him. He’s a shorter man, wearing round glasses…

Like another switch flipped, Bucky suddenly remembers this man, remembers a saw taken to the shattered remains of his arm, remembers being tied down, with a rag stuffed in his mouth to keep him from biting off his own tongue. He remembers the arm that doesn’t belong to him attached to his left side. He remembers throwing someone across the room as though he was weightless.

“Sergeant Barnes,” the man looks him up and down, ignoring the way Bucky shied openly away from his gaze, “Let us begin.”

They don’t release Bucky from the restraints while the doctor, Zola, measures him from head to toe, has him flex his new arm, takes his blood pressure and heart rate, checks him for infection. He only occasionally stops to speak to an assistant, who all keep their distance from Bucky, or say something in German to a soldier watching everything. He makes Bucky watch a grainy video of ever-changing shapes, and sticks him painfully with a needle whenever he tries to look away.

“Now Sergeant,” Zola addresses him after nearly an hour of poking and prodding, “Can you tell me a memory of yours?”

Bucky doesn’t even consider, just says the first thing that comes into his brain. Whatever this guy wants, it’s going to be easiest to just give it to him.

“Steve and I were walking along Rockaway beach two years ago. I remember it was nearly dusk, summer, we were watching the sunset and Steve brought some bread to feed the birds. I remember they were swarming us, you show them any kind of food and they all come swooping in. Steve kept laughing because they were trying to land on me. I remember the smile on his face and his eyes matched the water. It was the first time he really laughed since his mother had died. He told me later that he really needed that laugh.”

Zola looks at one of his assistants and gestures to the red book on the table next to him.

“First word: Longing.”

March 10, 1945

General,

We have had limited success reprogramming Barnes so far. Zola has been working extensively with him, and while we are now seeing less incidents of outward aggression to staff or soldiers, his rate of noncompliance has skyrocketed.

Please advise on any alternate methods we should attempt.

Rusted

Bucky tries not to think about his new normal, but the repetition of each day makes that difficult.

Each morning, he’s awoken by a prison alarm and the instantaneous switching on of all the lights in his cell, followed immediately by his first meal of the day served through a slot in the door. Steel door, reinforced, at least four feet thick. Even the new arm doesn’t make much of a dent in it, though he’s tried. God knows, he’s tried.

After breakfast he’s led to the combat cage where he meets with Zola, before being led through drills that he must comply with. Noncompliance leads to pain. Stepping out of line leads to pain. Not eating leads to pain. Not answering a question leads to pain. His whole life revolves around inflicting pain and trying not to get pain inflicted on him.

On bad days, when he’s been too slow or asked one too many questions, they wipe him before lunch. He wouldn’t wish it on his worst enemy. There is nothing else to say. It’s beyond unbearable.

On good days, they’d give him lunch and Zola would run his usual tests. Ask him about a memory, ask him about his family, his parents, his sister, his friends. For some reason, it always came back to Steve. Every time, no matter how Bucky tried to steer his brain away from him, it always came back to Steve.

This time he tells Zola about an old motorcycle they had rescued from the junkyard one summer. It was more scrap metal than anything, rusted out from the wind and the rain and the New York winter it had suffered through outdoors, but they had scraped together pennies from odd jobs and had gotten it to run again. It was a blast, to go zipping through the streets of Brooklyn in the dead of night, looking for trouble or whatever they could find, having to stop what felt like every ten minutes to fix some part that had fallen off or sprung a leak. A total hassle, but totally worth it.

After his tests, Zola would send him back to the unnamed soldier who was responsible for his physical activity, this time to put him against enemies. In the beginning, Bucky would refuse to fight them, but in his new quest of not putting himself through more pain if he could help it, he had started obeying the commands given to him, even if that meant using the strange attachment to his body that he hated looking at, that was welded to his skin, the burned and tortured flesh above it just a reminder that he used to be fully human.

After his second round of drills, they either send him to bed and give him dinner an hour later, or they put him in cryo. He longs for the cold metal of the room they keep him in on the nights when he goes to cryo.

It’s the same every single day.

Zola starts saying a new word to him: Rusted.

May 7, 1945

General,

After three weeks, Barnes’ hunger strike has ended. He can barely stand anymore, let alone lift the arm, but he is willing to eat. Zola has suggested that we put him back in cryo and get his weight up so he can at least stand. Your suggestion of a controlled shock each time he refused to eat worked perfectly, we always appreciate your input in the construction of our new weapon.

Seventeen

They let him out of cryo after what they tell him is four weeks. When he looks down at himself, he can’t see his ribs or the sharp definition of his hipbones anymore. They make sure he can stand, that he can punch, that he can shoot a gun. They work on the strength of the punch. Zola is angry that it’s been weakened.

The hunger strike was a stupid idea, it was too much like what Steve would have done, and Bucky would never be Steve, or be with Steve, no matter how much he would like to.

His body is littered with burn marks from the shocks they gave him when he wouldn’t eat, and Bucky winces at the memory of the pain, the memory of his body seizing up and being outside his control. He supposes he should be used to the out-of-control thing by now, but he isn’t, he can’t, because then he’d really have lost.

Bucky hates cryo, he hates cryo almost more than he hates the mind wipe, because at least when his mind was wiped he could still dream. They couldn’t control what he dreamed about, and they didn’t know what he dreamed about. Rather, they never asked him what he dreamed about, therefore they didn’t know.

Bucky thinks about his last dream, the one where he and Steve were on a beach somewhere. Not the Northeast, somewhere tropical, maybe California. They have their toes in the sand and Steve remarks that the sand is so hot here, how do people walk on sand this hot?

“Sergeant Barnes,” Zola breaks him out of his thoughts, “Tell me why you stopped eating.”

Bucky looks up at him, he’s so tired. He doesn’t want to fight anymore but he has to, the skinny little kid from Brooklyn with blue eyes and a blinding smile would want him to.

“When I was seventeen my family couldn’t afford food for the week,” the words pour out of him of their own volition, and he’s too tired to stop them, “Dad was out of work, we were desperate. Steve and his mom brought over dinner and made us keep the leftovers. It was a pot roast, best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t want to be a weapon. I don’t want to be your weapon.”

Zola leans back and considers him. A smile spreads across his face.

“What you want doesn’t matter. It never did.”

Bucky wants to hit him with the weapon on his left. He wants it more than anything. But he can’t. He’s not allowed. He really just is a lapdog for them now.

Zola adds a word the next day: Seventeen.

June 15, 1945

General,

It has been noted recently that Barnes is unwilling to lash out or attack any combatants that fit the following profile: blond, blue eyes, male. Zola has insisted this weakness is an asset in his reprogramming and that it will not last. We have brought in two soldiers that match this profile at Zola’s request, I will report any findings.

Daybreak

He’s not Steve, Bucky tells himself over and over as the handsome blond solider smiles at him when he brings him his dinner. They open the door now, just so Bucky can see the man clearly, just so he can see his smile and the slight edge to his light blue eyes. They’re lighter than Steve’s but something in Bucky simply doesn’t care anymore. The eyes were wrong but they were something he could cling to. The hair was just a shade too dark but it reminded him of a different time. The smile was just a little too wide, but he remembered one that was a little softer, a little more slanted.

“I remember watching the sun rise in Germany during the war,” Bucky tells Zola blankly in their meeting that day, so used to the stab of the needle in his skin that he doesn’t even feel it, “Steve told me his favorite time of day was this early in the morning, right at daybreak. He told me that before, too, before he was Captain America, but we got to just sit quietly and watch it, watch the colors. I don’t remember them.”

“Very good,” Zola stands, beckoning to the blond solider to take Bucky to his next assignment.

Bucky walks along silently, head held high as he approaches the cage, where a larger soldier is waiting for him, outfitted head to toe in combat gear. Shouldn’t be a problem.

“Soldat,” Zola stares through the bars of the combat cage minutes later, where Bucky has paused, fist raised above the quivering man in front of him, “Don’t hesitate, you wouldn’t want to disappoint your audience.”

Bucky looks over to Zola, the blond soldier who smiled at him the night before is watching.

Zola’s right, he can’t disappoint him.

“New word,” Zola mutters as Bucky straightens up, shaking his hand to get rid of the red on the metal knuckles, “Daybreak.”

July 4, 1945

General,

Barnes had an unfortunate breakthrough during today’s training. He seemed to remember something from prior to his fall and was unable to complete the mission set in front of him. I am becoming frustrated with Zola, he insists that this is all part of the process, that to break a man down there will be moments of pure weakness, but Barnes is looking less and less like the man we thought he was.

Furnace

Steve is the only thing he thinks of when he has a clear mind anymore.

He doesn’t remember little details of his memory anymore, but he remembers Steve. He doesn’t remember his birthday, but he knows when Steve’s is. He doesn’t remember the smell of spring in Central Park, but he remembers the way Steve wore newspapers in his shoes. No matter what, he knows Steve.

Zola knows this, he uses it against him. Every day, the talks get longer, the punishments get more painful, and the amount of times he’s wiped go up.

“Tell me a memory,” it feels like Zola’s asked this a thousand times now.

“Steve’s furnace in his building broke last winter. We had him over for two weeks until the landlord could be bothered to fix it. Mom loves him so much, she would have him around all the time if he’d let her. He always thinks he can do everything himself.”

“You speak of him as if he’s here. Why?”

“I don’t know.”

That’s the truth.

Zola adds Furnace to the list of Bucky’s words. He can feel himself slipping away every time they’re uttered.

August 12, 1945

General,

Thank you for your visit last week. Your insight into our project is much appreciated. I agree that we must continue to press on, we have no put so much man power and energy into the project it would be a shame to shut it down now. Zola believes that we are close to a breakthrough, despite occasional noncompliance by Barnes.

Nine

It’s starting to get harder and harder to fight against the constant onslaught of change they were forcing on his mind.

He can’t dream anymore, so the cryo chamber at least lets him rest, because the only dreams he has are dark and shadowy. He’s losing his already tenuous grip on himself, his memories becoming indistinct, with only a few bright spots left to cling to in his mind.

“Tell me a memory.”

It takes him a second to think of one. He cowers as Zola stands over him.

“When I was nine we went on a field trip to the Met. Steve made me read all the little cards next to the paintings, even though it made us lag behind everyone else.”

“Do you still think of him?”

Always.

“No.”

“Good. Add Nine.”

September 1, 1945

General,

Zola chose to move forward with giving Barnes the news of Steve Rogers’ death last week. So far, it has proven an excellent tactic in breaking his resolve. After an initial disruption in his usual pattern of behavior (consisting of a violent outburst that left his entire holding cell destroyed followed by a complete emotional collapse), Barnes has been much more compliant in the process.

I believe we may be close to a breakthrough.

Benign

Bucky has been unmade, strand by strand, bit by bit, atom by atom, he has been unmade and put back together for the purposes of following orders, of being a human weapon of mass destruction. There has been so much pain in his unmaking, so much unrelenting physical and mental pain from being ripped apart and put back together over and over and over again.

And yet, none of that pain was like the pain of knowing that Steve Rogers was dead.

Bucky would take it all over again, spend a thousand lifetimes in this room, in the cell, in the combat cage, in the cryo chamber, having his mind wiped like a problem on a chalkboard just so he could unlearn that Steve was dead.

Zola is the one that tells him. He shows him a newspaper in English, then Russian, then German, all with the same headline: Captain America Dead!

Bucky feels like a feather caught in a windstorm, torn to shreds by the whipping downdraft of mother nature’s power, by the power of his own grief.

Bucky knows better than to move while Zola is in the room, but the second that he leaves, the rage, red, blind, hot, overtakes him, and he uses the weapon attached to him, which has become a part of him, to destroy everything he can. The metal table, reinforced with steel, comes apart like wet paper in his hand. He destroys the sink, leaving nothing but powdered ceramic and plumbing hookups behind. He gouges marks into the walls with his fingers, he slams his arm onto the floor. And then? He collapses in the middle of the cold metal room with his cold metal arm, just a cold metal soldier who’s lost the only reason he wanted to get out of here, to stay who he was.

“Come on Buck, we don’t have to do this.”

“When was the last time we snuck into a Dodgers game? It’ll be fun, I promise.”

Steve rolls his eyes, pausing as they waited to cross the street to cough into his jacket. Bucky, almost subconsciously pats his jacket pockets. Good, he’s got an extra one of Steve’s inhalers in case it’s a bad night for his asthma.

“Come on Steve,” Bucky nudges his shoulder as they approach the stadium, “I know it’s been hard recently, but hey, at least we have baseball.”

Steve laughs at that, and gives Bucky an almost radiant smile. Whatever it was, it makes Bucky feel like he has the sun in his chest.

“You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say this was a date,” Steve jokes as they sneak in behind an older couple, heading up to their favorite spot to watch the game.

“Who says it isn’t?” Bucky is glad his face is hidden in shadow as they make their way up the stairs of the stadium to the very back row, “But don’t think I’m gonna buy you a hotdog or anything.”

“Come on, what kind of girl pays for her own hotdog?” Steve winks at him, and Bucky can’t hide his wide smile at the words that settle themselves right in the middle of his beating heart.

“Soldat. Stand up,” Zola’s voice comes through the speaker, and Bucky can’t comply, he tries, but he’s crushed by the weight of the loss of Steve Rogers, the only person that could pull him out of this, that could undo the work of HYDRA that had been inflicted on his mind and body.

He hears the stomping of boots outside the door, but he still can’t stand, he still can’t make himself be the good lapdog he’s supposed to be. He’s broken, empty, unusable, unloveable.

“Steve,” Bucky gasps, not even thinking about fighting as the soldiers pull him up to standing.

Zola’s voice comes over the little speaker they have in the room, the one that Bucky couldn’t reach to rip to pieces.

“Next word: Benign”

October 29, 1945

General,

Zola had a long conversation with Barnes today. The loss of Steve Rogers is still affecting him. Zola tells me he has a plan, that our work is almost finished.

Homecoming

They take him to the combat cage again. There’s someone waiting for him.

“We have a test for you today,” Zola swings the door open, and he sees that it’s the blond soldier who reminds him of Steve, tied up and bound and already bloody.

Bucky takes a step forward, staring at the terrified man. He feels something, he can’t identify what it is.

“Tell me a memory.”

Bucky doesn’t take his eyes off of the soldier as he speaks.

“When Steve brought us back from the HYDRA base, they called it our homecoming. I wasn’t used to him yet, him being taller than me, being okay with being the center of attention. I wasn’t used to him being different. But sometimes I saw flashes of the old Steve, when he looked at me, when he was drawing on a scrap of a napkin, when he made a joke that everyone laughed at. And then, sometimes I thought he forgot about me. He didn’t need me anymore.”

He looks down at the soldier.

“Kill him, soldat,” Zola tells him, “You don’t need him. You never did.”

The cowering blond soldier might as well be Steve, Bucky can’t tell the difference anymore. He snaps his neck anyway, pretending that he doesn’t feel the shattered remains of his heart split just a little bit more.

“New word: Homecoming.”

December 15, 1945

General,

Only a few more weeks I believe, Barnes has become more and more compliant, completing missions with ease and without hesitation. We put him in front of a live target yesterday, the man captured at the border three weeks ago. Barnes did not even seem to hear his pleas, even though we have been assured he can hear and understand them.

One

He kills easily now. He does it without thinking.

“Tell me a memory.”

“I don’t have one.”

“Good. Add One.”

January 23, 1946

General,

Congratulations. The asset is ready to begin service.

Freight Car

The Winter Solider does not hesitate. He does not disobey orders. He pulls the trigger as easy as breathing. He’s a ghost story, a legend, the new fist of HYDRA.

Zola speaks to him, he answers. A soldier speaks to him, he answers.

“There is one last word to add,” Zola tells him, walking around where he stands, straight, like a steel rod. He’s more metal than man now, anyway, “Tell me about the day you fell.”

“I ziplined onto a freight car. I took out the targets. I fell. I was found by HYDRA.”

Steve was there. He tried to save me. We joked about Coney Island. I miss him, I wish I was with him. I wish I had died when I fell. I wish I could just be Bucky. I don’t want to be a weapon, I just want to be Bucky.

“Very good, soldat. Final word: Freight Car.”

As each word is read, Bucky departs his mind, taken over by The Winter Solider. Each word takes away a layer of memory, a layer of who he was, who he had fought so hard to stay. Now it doesn’t take weeks of time, or months, to unmake him. All it takes is ten words, ten words that connect him completely to Bucky Barnes, yet somehow, ten words that remove him altogether.

Zola finishes the list. Bucky Barnes is long, long gone.

“Ready to comply.”

#stucky #my writing #stucky fanfic #mcu #not spn

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annebl4cksworld · 3 years

Text

Cold Blood pt.3

WARNINGS: None really, I don’t even think there’s swearing ^^”

NOTE: I do not own any rights to Marvel or The Originals, I have taken content directly from the shows in order to give you a better image of what’s happening!

A/N: Sorry i haven’t posted in a while, I’ve been going through a lot lately and haven’t had the chance to sit down and keep going.... also I haven’t figured out how to link my chapters yet so I’m sorry for new ppl

Word count: 1,500 (smaller than normal but the next part will be longer so it will make up for it)

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

Weak from the hours of spells and torture Rebekah stumbled trying to get away from Klaus, running through doors, falling against walls and eventually ending up in the basement where she met a dead end

“Tired of running?” he called behind her

“I know how much you love the chase and I’d like to deprive you of it” huffing against a wall, watching him round the corner. Klaus was suddenly on his knees and tossing someone away from him, it was Marcel

“Ah! The lovers reunited, this is actually perfect, I can deal with you both at the same time” pulling the dagger from his belt he waved it in the air.

“Klaus, it was my idea to call Mikael, he had nothing to do with it” she wheezed moving to stand in front of Marcel, unconscious on the floor.

Before anything else, the blade in Klaus’ hand was driven into his chest. Outside Briar gasped in pain, everything halted to a stop and she fell towards the ground; as the energy field dropped Steve ran for her, grabbing on at the last minute before hitting the ground himself. Briar groaned turning in the arms of the super soldier, she placed her hands on his chest and pushed herself up “Nice save capsicle”

He turned and sat up after her “don’t call me that”

“Somethings wrong” Briar brushed his comment off looking over at the sanatorium, she stood and watched as her aunt and Marcel sped out of the door and off into the night. “Oh no” she breathed turning back to see Elijah carrying Klaus with Tony and Natasha right behind them,

“Uncle-”

“He did it to himself Briar, I’m taking him back to the compound” Elijah interrupted as he walked past, he placed Klaus in the car and turned back to his niece “What about aunt Rebekah?”

“In hiding; a necessary sacrifice. Go Briar, you don’t need to be here for what comes next, you did your job beautifully. This is between siblings” Elijah placed a kiss on her forehead before getting into the car and driving off.

Briar turned to face the avengers “Ok, when do we leave?” Tony then turning to face Steve “You gonna fight me on this?” Cap clenched his jaw and looked away

“Seems you’ve already made up your mind” Steve turned to Natasha, “and I for one would like to get out of this city before any other vampires come sniffing around” the redhead flipped her hair and grinned at Briar.

Once on the quinjet Briar leaning against the wall next to Tony who was flying, she watched steve and he adjusted his uniform,

“He doesn’t like me” she whispered, Tony shook his head

“His loss then” winking at Briar she rolled her eyes, “He’s not so great, there’s times where I want to punch him in his perfect teeth”

“Down boy” Briar glanced Tony's way “what’s got your panties in a twist about him?”

“Grew up listening to how my dad ‘knew captain America’ as if it was some great feat, as if that made him some superior being. What I hate most of all is how freaking polite he is”

“Polite?” Briar scoffed I must have missed that

“Guy dies and wakes up 70 years later, finds out there’s aliens, androids, wizards and now vampires, witches and werewolves. Let alone someone who is all three; he’s bound to be suspicious. Stand off-ish, hell, maybe even a bit of an ass”

“Are you defending him? The guy you just said you want to punch in the teeth? I mean he’s got a hell of an ass but-”

“How close are we?” Steve asked cutting Briar off coming to stand behind Tony’s chair

“Friday?”

Nearly 20 minutes out, sir

Steve nodded and walked away eyeing Briar as he went, she winked, giving a devilish smirk.

“You were saying?” Tony asked, turning as Steve left. Briar shot him a ‘nevermind’ look shaking her head, she looked out the window as they flew closer to the compound.

Once on the landing strip, the back opened and everyone gathered their belongings.

“Labs all set up boss” a demanding voice called from outside the ship,

“Oh, no. He’s the boss” Tony turned to face the brunette, who was now on the ship, pointing to Steve who turned his head not making eye contact with anyone,

“I just pay for everything, design everything, make everyone look cooler”

Briar shrugged and turned to face the brunette, “what’s a girl gotta do to get a drink around here”

“Hill, status report” Steve called coming to stand in front of them “Sir-“ before she could continue; Steve pulled her from the ship and spoke in hushed tones. Briar huffed, feeling an arm snake through hers, “c’mere darling, I got you” Tony whispered in her ear pulling her off the ship.

Steve watched as they walked by, “I have everything you could dream of and if I don’t I’ll have it flown in, promise.” Tony announced loudly for everyone around to hear, Nat watched Steve watching you, “She doesn’t seem so bad”

“What’s her deal?” Hill asked

“Nothing, she’s not a part of the team” Steve stated grabbing the tablet from Hill’s hands to sift through the photos.

“Top shelf for little old me? Tony you spoil me” Briar winked taking the drink he handed her,

“You’re going to be meeting the rest of the team soon, a god, an Android, a witch, a rage monster, you know a little of this a little of that. Try to be nice, some of them have-“

“Anger issues?” Briar twisted the glass in her hands “They sound fun, who’s first?”

“Tony…” a timid man called from the doorway,

“Banner, - Tony smiled at Briar - Banner is first, what’s the word?”

“Uh- I need you -um in the lab” without making too much eye contact he walks off

“He gets nervous around beautiful women, it’s no big” Tony waved his hand dismissively and followed Banner, Briar close behind.

“The scepter, we were wondering how Strucker was getting so inventive, so I’ve been analyzing the cube and take a look at this.” Banner brought up a holographic image of the cube onto the floor.

“It’s beautiful” Briar commented leaning against the doorway

“It is; it’s like it’s thinking- i mean this could be- it’s - it’s not a human mind, i mean look at this. They’re like neurons firing.” he paced around the image

“Down in Strucker’s lab I saw some pretty advanced robotics, they deep six the data but… I gotta guess he was knocking on a very particular door.” shrugging Tony watched Banner come to a halt.

“Artificial intelligence.”

“This could be it, Bruce. This could be the key to creating Ultron.”

“Ultron?” Briar asked sipping her drink,

“Peace in our time Briar. Imagine that?” Tony beamed

“That’s a mad sized ‘if’ Tony” Bruce rubbed his neck

“Our job is if what if you were sipping margaritas on a sun dried beach turning brown instead of green? Not looking over your shoulder for veronica”

“Don’t hate I helped design veronica” Bruce started pacing again

“As a worst case measure right? What about best case? What if the world was safe? what if next time the aliens roll up to the club they can’t get through the bouncer”

“The only ones threatening the world would be people” Briar stated leaving the doorway to stand beside Tony, offering her drink.

“I wanna apply this to the ultron program but friday can’t download a data schematic this dense, we can only do it while we have the scepter here that’s three days, give me three days” he took a sip of the drink

“So you’re going for artificial intelligence and you don’t wanna tell the team?” staring at Tony nervously,

“Right and you know why because we don’t have time for a city hall debate. I don't wanna hear: the man was not meant to meddle, medley. I see a suit of armor around the world”

“Sounds like a cold world Tony” Bruce looked back at the image in front of him.

“I’ve seen colder” Briar locked eyes with Bruce

“this one, this very vulnerable blue one, needs ultron. Peace in our time Banner, that’s all I’m saying” placing a hand on the small of Briars back he led her out of the lab and into the hall.

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iam93percentstardust · 4 years

Text

Spirit Bright and Beautiful

Written for @starkbucksbingo and this means a bingo for me! See below the cut for bingo details

Also on ao3 here

He has a safe house.

Of sorts.

Not really a safe house. It’s an office space under construction, abandoned when the project ran out of money. Still, it’s safe and the important part is that it has a view of the tower and so James can see the Avengers when they’re coming and going. He can watch what they’re doing—not when they’re in the tower itself because the windows are tinted—but he can see when they leave and where they’re going. He never follows them, not with the Black Widow and the SHIELD agent on the team. But they don’t usually go far unless it’s a special event or a mission and if it’s a mission, James wouldn’t want to follow them anyway and if it’s a special event, he can usually watch it on the shitty TV he stole out of someone’s garbage.

James prides himself on being impossible to sneak up on. HYDRA’s training was good for that at least. So he hears the light steps coming up the stairs. He hears and he tenses because he doesn’t recognize those footsteps. He doubts it’s HYDRA—they’re usually heavier—and he doesn’t think it’s the Black Widow because he thinks he could count himself lucky if he actually heard her coming and she’s out on a mission right now anyway so that means it’s someone else.

Someone, who is apparently huffing and complaining about damn super soldiers who could do this without even breathing hard and—

A face with fluffy brown hair, big and warm eyes, and the most ridiculous beard James thinks he’s ever seen pokes its head around the corner.

“Freezer Pop?” the face asks and James suddenly recognizes it as belonging to Tony Stark, Iron Man, one of HYDRA’s do-not-engages long before he became a superhero. “Bucky Bear, you in here?”

He shouldn’t give away his position so easily. Then again, Stark is a friend of Steve’s and he remembers Steve. He’s not sure if he’s ready to see Steve again but he at least knows he’s a friend.

“What’s a freezer pop?” he asks, voice rusty from disuse. He emerges from behind one of the plastic sheets, flicking the switchblade he’d been holding closed. He doesn’t use guns anymore, can’t stand the sight of the things, and it’s not like he can’t defend himself with just a knife anyway.

Stark’s eyes dart to the knife, skitter away to take in the sight of the construction. “It’s a snack,” he begins and then stops, biting his lip to stop himself from saying anything else. James can’t help but wonder what he’d been planning on saying. “Is this where you’ve been staying? Cause I’ll be honest with you, this is…not great.”

James huffs out a laugh. “Better than the street,” he says and doesn’t say that he’s been on the street before.

Stark seems to hear it anyway though if the way his mouth twists is any indication. “It’s not like you’ve only got two options here,” he points out. “You could—”

“I don’t want to,” James interrupts, already feeling the panic creeping up on him. “I don’t—I could hurt—and Steve—”

He almost doesn’t see Stark move and his hand twitches for his knife before Stark stops only a few feet away from. The panic comes on fast and heavy then, overwhelming him. When did he sit down? When did he scramble backward from Stark sitting as well? When did—he tucks his head between his knees, screaming to drown out the static in his head.

He doesn’t know how long it takes him to become James again but when he raises his head again, he thinks the light has shifted. Stark is still sitting there though, still a few feet away, silently tapping on a tablet. He looks up when James uncurls from his ball, putting the tablet down beside him.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Stark says quietly. “I know I can be an asshole but I really didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I didn’t think you did,” he rasps.

“I know you’re not ready. And I don’t really blame you. But Steve and the Murder Twins are out on a mission for the next two months and Sam is still in D.C. and Bruce and Thor are at their love nest in Greece that they think I don’t know about.” He rolls his eyes and the corner of James’ mouth twitches in a smile. “I’m just worried about you.”

And that—that’s just—“No one asked you to worry about me,” he points out.

Stark nods. “I know. But you can’t stop me from doing it anyway so here, I wanted to give you this.” He slides the tablet across the floor, stopping only when it taps against James’ foot.

He picks it up slowly, reminding himself that Stark wouldn’t kill him, not with a tablet leastways. “What is it?”

“Videos, mostly,” Stark says with a deceptively casual shrug.

“Of what?”

“The team. J says you’ve been watching us for a while and he’s pretty sure that you’re looking to see if it’s safe to come in, which I doubt you can figure out from watching the outside so I brought you this so you can watch the inside too.” He frowns. “That came out wrong. Look, I’m scared of Natasha too so I don’t blame you so I just thought maybe you’d like video of her throwing cereal at Clint because he drank all the milk.”

He unfolds his legs and stands up. “I’ll leave you to it. Just to warn you though, I’m coming back tomorrow with dinner. Gotta do something while I’m benched.” He taps his side like James is supposed to know what that means and then disappears before James can ask him either about his ribs or about the mysterious J.

True to his word, Stark is back the next day with something in a large paper bag that smells so good it makes James’ mouth water. He’s been eating mostly day-old sandwiches from the sandwich shop next to the office building he’s staying in and frankly, he’s tired of it but he’s not willing to go any further than right next door.

“You watched any of it?” Stark asks him, tossing the bag into his lap.

James fishes out two containers of what looks like spaghetti and a smaller bag of breadsticks. He sticks one of the breadsticks in his mouth so that he can avoid saying something when he nods.

Stark gives him an amused looks and then waits for him to finish swallowing before saying, “What did you think?”

…He doesn’t know what to say to that.

He’s been watching and he’s seen what Stark had talked about with the Black Widow throwing cereal at Barton. And he’s seen Dr. Banner trip over the god’s hammer and not even turn a shade before yelling at him about leaving his things in the halls. And he’s even seen Stark and Steve cheerfully bickering with each other—and that’s barely even a fraction of the videos on the tablet he’d been given.

He sees all of this but it doesn’t really make sense in his mind at the moment. Where are the fights? The arguments? The full-on hatred that expresses itself in sneers and glares?

“It’s fine,” he mutters. “Looks nice.”

Stark frowns but he doesn’t press the issue. For that, James is grateful. He still doesn’t have all of his memories back but he’s pretty sure that if it were Steve standing here in front of him, he’d be a lot pushier about this. Stark, though, Stark just sits down next to him and chatters about how much it sucks that he cracked two ribs and so he can’t be on the mission with everyone else. He doesn’t mind that James doesn’t do anything but sit next to him and eat his spaghetti. He talks enough to fill the entire room on his own.

It’s kind of nice.

The thing is, the Avengers are apparently nothing like HYDRA. They actively seem to like and trust each other. Their playful ribbing is nothing more than silly banter. Their light touches are warm hugs and not backstabbing embraces. They have movie nights and game nights and morning yoga sessions and in between it all, they hang out together and laugh and talk and love.

The thing is, Tony is warm and cheerful and lovely. James can’t remember the last time he thought that about anything, let alone a person. But as Tony comes over every single evening with delicious food—never homecooked because he says he can’t be trusted around a kitchen—and talks about everything and nothing all at once, James finds himself relaxing more and more around him.

The thing is, Tony clearly loves the team, treats them like they’re his family. He buys them extravagant gifts and goes shopping with Natasha and helps Bruce with dinner preparations. He spends hours in front of the TV with Clint, throwing popcorn at the screen during trashy soap operas. He poses for Steve’s art and he never complains when Thor hugs him just a little too hard.

The things is—if Tony can just choose who his family is, then maybe James can too.

“The team comes back next week,” Tony tells him one night.

James nods slowly. He knows. He’s been keeping track of the days ever since that first night when Tony had told him they would be gone for two months. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, they should be back in five days.

“What do you think?” Tony asks. “You’ve seen the footage. You know what we’re like. You ready to come out of the cold yet?”

It’s quiet for a long time. James’ stomach growls, reminding him that even though he’d polished off the serving Tony had brought for him, he’s still hungry. He had been eyeing Tony’s food up until this question (truthfully, he’s still debating tugging it closer to him; Tony never minds) but he wants to think about this first.

Tony waits for him patiently, still doesn’t push. He loves that about him honestly. He’s thought before that he liked it but he thinks now that it might go deeper than that. His…feelings for Tony as a whole might go deeper than that. And if that’s really how he feels, then he thinks there’s not a whole lot he wouldn’t do for Tony.

“Maybe,” he says eventually, still turning the idea over in his mind. “’m still a little scared.”

Tony nods and stands, dusting his hands off on his jeans. The movement startles James, who was expecting that Tony would be there a little longer yet. Did he say something wrong? Did he make the wrong choice? Did he push Tony away finally.

But then Tony reaches out a hand, holding it out for James to take. “Come on, James darling,” Tony urges. “Come home with me.”

James doesn’t really know where home is anymore but, as he grabs Tony’s hand and lets him pull him up and guide him out of the room, he thinks it might be with Tony.

Title: Spirit Bright and Beautiful Collaborator Name: iam93percentstardust Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26044267 Square Filled: G1 - Chosen Family Ship/Main Pairing: Winteriron Rating: G Major Tags & Triggers: Panic attacks Word Count: 2k

#alle writes #winteriron #starkbucksbingo2020 #long post #if you like please consider reblogging

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buckybarnesdollface · 4 years

Text

The Beach House

Summary: Reader is insecure about her body on a vacation with the Avengers, but a certain supersoldier shows her he thinks she’s stunning.

Warnings: Smut

When Tony had said he was taking the team on a retreat, a private beach house in Malibu certainly hadn’t been what I’d expected. The place was enormous, with over a dozen bedrooms, a home theatre, a pool, and access to its own private beach. After what the team had been through in the past year, Tony had insisted we all deserved to spend a little time relaxing and being pampered.

In all honesty, I felt a little out of place being here with the rest of the Avengers. I’d only been recruited six months ago, and on tenuous terms – I’d originally worked for S.H.I.E.L.D. as a Level 6 agent, although I’d started in Level 5 as a biomechanical engineer. It was my knowledge of biomechanics that landed me at the Avengers compound. The Avengers had been in need of someone familiar with the subject, and Maria Hill – who had been my commander at S.H.I.E.L.D. and whom I’d remained close with after – had recommended me to Tony Stark. He had been reluctant considering him and Maria had been on unsteady terms since he’d fired her from Stark Industries, but when I created an implant for Rhodey that meant he didn’t have to wear the braces to walk I had been eagerly welcomed onto the team.

Since then I had assisted with things such as successfully allowing Vision to hold his human appearance even without the mind stone, helping Dr. Banner control when he changes into the Hulk, and repairing/upgrading the tech in Sergeant Barnes’ arm. My place had initially been strictly in the compound, but when Tony found out I was also trained in espionage I was sent out on a few recon missions. And although in the last six months I had created friendships with the other Avengers, I just couldn’t shake the feeling that I didn’t really belong here.

“You do know that the whole point of bringing the team here was so that we could enjoy the sunshine, right, (Y/N)?” Tony said wryly as he walked into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of scotch. With a glass of lemonade in hand and a book tucked under my arm I had just been about to head to the den to curl up and read, which I explained to Tony. He shook his head.

“You can read outside,” he said. “At least go sit by the pool and be around the rest of the team and act like you want to be here.”

“I do want to be here,” I protested.

“Then get your butt out there. I didn’t spend a fortune on this place for people to sit inside by themselves.”

With a sigh, I allowed Tony to usher me out the patio door. Most of the team was either at the beach or in the city, but Steve and Bucky were in the pool tossing a football back and forth. I took a seat on the wicker rocking chair under the cover of a large umbrella and had just cracked open my book when I noticed that Tony was leaving.

“Where are you going?” I accused, and he grinned.

“Pepper is waiting for me on the beach.”

I glared at him. “Then why did you drag me out here?”

“Because some sun would do you good,” he replied, “and because you have to stop spending so much time alone. Now I gotta go, enjoy!”

He waved as he disappeared down the path that led to the beach, and I was so annoyed I contemplated going back inside just out of spite. It was a beautiful day, though, and I had already settled in so I turned my attention back to my book.

For awhile, it was nice – I read my book while in the background the guys continued their game of catch. It wasn’t as peaceful as being alone, but Steve and Bucky were the two least rowdy members of the team and I’d be lying if I said it bothered me having the two shirtless supersoldiers there. If I was going to be forced into company, at least theirs was unobtrusive and pleasant.

It didn’t take long before more of the team returned, though. Sam came out of the house, having woken from a nap, and Natasha and Wanda had returned from shopping and had decided to come sunbathe by the pool. Suddenly I was feeling less than relaxed. With Sam thrown into the mix, Steve and Bucky’s game of catch was much louder and more aggressive. And with Nat and Wanda, who both looked like poster girls for a Playboy magazine, laying by the pool in the new bikinis they had bought I was feeling even more out of place than usual. I glanced down at the denim shorts and baggy t-shirt I wore and suddenly felt like a whale next to a couple of mermaids.

“Sam, god dammit!” I heard Nat shout and I looked up to see that the football had landed in her lap, spraying her with water. Sam had the decency to look apologetic only for a moment before he snickered.

“Maybe you shouldn’t sit so close to the pool if you don’t want to get wet,” he pointed out.

“Maybe you should learn to throw a football,” Natasha retorted, tossing it back at him with a perfect spiral.

“Those are fighting words,” Bucky taunted, and Sam grinned.

“I propose a match. Guys against girls,” he said. “Losers cook dinner for the winners.”

Wanda shook her head. “There’s only two of us and three of you. That’s unfair.”

“(Y/N)!”

Steve’s voice startled me, and I cursed internally as I looked up to see the five of them looking expectantly at me. I shook my head.

“I’ll pass,” I said. “Football’s not really my thing, and I’m not in the mood for swimming.”

“Oh, c’mon!” Nat said. “It’ll be fun! We can show these boneheads how it’s done.”

“You wish,” Bucky snorted. I shook my head again.

“Really, guys, I’m good. Maybe some other time.”

I was hoping they’d drop it, but of course it was never that easy. “Is it that you can’t swim?” Sam asked.

“I can swim,” I defended. In fact, I normally loved swimming. But with both Natasha and Wanda looking like goddesses in their skimpy bikinis and the three very fit guys, there was no way I was going to go put on my basic one-piece bathing suit and come back down just to feel insecure.

“You haven’t been in the pool once since we got here, (Y/N),” Steve pointed out gently. “There’s got to be a reason.”

“Tony said the retreat was for relaxing,” I replied, a slight bite to my tone. “Your idea of relaxing may be playing games in the pool, but mine is not.”

Steve held up his hands in surrender and I felt bad. He truly was one of the nicest people on the team and I hadn’t meant to snap at him, but my patience had expired and I was starting to resent Tony for forcing me to be more social.

Not knowing what else to say and feeling awkward, I got up and headed inside. I looked out the kitchen window to see that Nat and Wanda had jumped in the pool and the five of them were laughing and having fun. With a pang of jealousy, I retreated to the den with my book.

The next day, I stood in the full-length mirror in my room and stared at my reflection. I’d put on my bathing suit – a black one-piece with a corseted neckline that showed a modest bit of cleavage. Although it did make my breasts look good, I couldn’t help but take note of everything I hated – the less-than-flat tummy, the cellulite on my thighs, the rolls that even the black material couldn’t hide…I thought of how Natasha and Wanda had looked in their bikinis, and a noise of disgust pushed its way from my throat. I peeled the bathing suit off and threw on some shorts and my old Star Wars t-shirt before making my way downstairs and out the patio door to the deck.

It was still fairly early, the morning sun warm and the birds chirping. Most of the team was still asleep or watching TV in their pyjamas so I had the backyard to myself. I walked over to the pool and sat down on the edge, letting my bare feet dangle in the water. It was cool but not cold, just enough to feel refreshing in the Malibu heat. I tilted my head back and closed my eyes, letting the sun warm my face.

“I…I don’t mean to intrude,” a soft voice said behind me, and I turned to find Bucky standing there with an apologetic look on his face. “Steve made breakfast; he saw you were awake and was wondering if you wanted some.”

I blushed and ducked my head, embarrassed that he’d caught me in a vulnerable moment. “Uh, yeah, sure,” I said. “I’ll be right in.”

Bucky nodded and then headed back inside. I waited a moment and then followed.

Later that night, we decided to throw a party on the beach to celebrate our last night in Malibu before returning to New York and to work. A big bonfire roared on the beach, and some of the team had started a game of beach volleyball. Clint and Scott were manning the barbecue, and the guys were pounding back hamburgers and hot dogs as quickly as they could make them. I had to admit it was nice seeing the whole team so carefree and having fun. I even convinced myself to join in on a game of volleyball with Peter, Wanda and Thor, and found myself laughing as Thor tried to rein in his strength to make it a more even playing field.

As it got dark the party only intensified, but I found myself growing tired of the prolonged social interaction. Waiting until I was sure no one would notice, I slipped away from the party and made my way back up to the house.

At night the back deck was lit with thousands of fairy lights. I once again sat down on the edge of the pool, contemplating going for a swim while everyone else was down on the beach, but before I could get up to change into my bathing suit a shadowy figure appeared on the path. I stiffened, but when he stepped into the light and I saw it was Bucky I relaxed slightly.

“This feels like deja-vu,” he chuckled, and I gave him a small, shy smile.

“How come you aren’t at the party?”

“I saw you leave. I wanted to make sure everything was alright.”

I flushed as a weird feeling blossomed in my stomach. “I’m fine,” I assured him. “Just needed some air. I love the team, but sometimes these parties can be…”

“A little too much?” Bucky finished for me and I nodded. He gave me a small smile before coming to sit next to me, dipping his own feet in the water. He stared down towards the beach as he spoke. “I know better than most how it feels to be overwhelmed around people,” he murmured. “I know how easy it is to isolate yourself when you’re the newest team member and you feel out of place, but trust me when I say that everyone wants nothing more than to make you feel like a part of the family. Speaking from experience, they will keep trying to include you in things until you cave and just go with it.”

I pursed my lips and shook my head. “I don’t isolate myself –”

“(Y/N), c’mon. If you aren’t on a mission or in your lab working, you’re off somewhere alone with your nose buried in a book.” Bucky chuckled. “I get it, it’s tough when everyone else already has a history with each other. But the team thinks you’re great. Trust me.”

I finally turned my head towards him to find he was already looking at me. I bit my lip, my cheeks still warm.

“When I was a part of S.H.I.E.L.D.,” I explained, “I felt like I was on an even playing field with everyone else. Sure, there were those with higher clearances than me, but we were all just human. But now…” I trailed off. “I’m surrounded by highly trained assassins and the world’s smartest people and superhumans and a god. Of course I’m going to feel out of place, I’m the least qualified to be here.”

Bucky’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “If you were unqualified to be a part of the team, (Y/N), then Maria would have never suggested you for the job and Tony would have never recruited you. The team is lucky to have you.” He grinned and flexed his metal arm. “Besides, if it weren’t for you, I would have to go all the way to Wakanda whenever I needed maintenance on this thing. You certainly give Shuri a run for her money.”

For what felt like the hundredth time that night I blushed. Bucky and I had been alone together on a few occasions when I was working on his arm, but this felt different. It was personal, and if I was being honest, I’d had a small crush on the supersoldier since I’d met him six months ago. I was suddenly highly aware of the fact that we were alone.

“So this is the second time I’ve found you out here by the pool,” he pointed out after a moment of silence. “I know you like to swim, (Y/N); you use the pool at the compound all the time.”

I shot him a confused look. “How did you –”

“You aren’t the only one awake at ungodly hours,” he chuckled. “I have a hard time sleeping. Nightmares. I’ve seen you sneak to or from the pool on a few occasions.” He shook his head. “So why were you so reluctant to swim here? The pool here is so much nicer than the one at the compound.”

Suddenly my throat was dry and I turned my head away from him. “If I tell you, you’ll think it’s stupid,” I mumbled.

“I promise I won’t. Tell me, (Y/N).”

“I just…I don’t feel comfortable around the team,” I admitted, my eyes trained on my lap. “Everyone is all so in shape. Hell, Nat and Wanda look like frigging supermodels walking around here in their bikinis. And then there’s me. I already feel like an outsider, but if I was next to them in their bikinis, I just…I couldn’t do it. It’d just make me feel worse about myself.”

For a moment we sat in silence, but I could feel Bucky’s eyes on me. I had never told anyone about my insecurities like that before, especially not to a man as gorgeous as Bucky Barnes. When he still hadn’t spoken I began to panic, worried I’d made a mistake in opening up, but finally his soft voice broke through the silence.

“(Y/N)…(Y/N), look at me.”

When I didn’t move, he shifted his body towards me and then lifted his flesh hand to take my chin gently between his thumb and forefinger to direct my gaze to his. His blue eyes were soft as he looked at me.

“Are you kidding me?” he breathed. “You wouldn’t join us in the pool because you were scared of what people would think of you in a swimsuit?”

I frowned and pulled away from him. “You don’t get it,” I snapped. “You’re just as in shape as the rest of them, if not more so. I’m the only one on the team without abs.”

Bucky shook his head. “Do you think you’re the only one with insecurities, doll? We’ve all got ‘em,” he said to me. “You seem to think that Natasha is so perfect, for example, but you know how much she hates that scar on her abdomen from the time I shot her.”

I shook my head. “It’s a little scar, I don’t know why it’s such a big deal to her.”

“And what about me? Do you know how long it took me to feel even somewhat comfortable wearing short-sleeved shirts, let alone no shirt at all, around the team? I was ashamed of my arm and I hated the scarring on my shoulder from it. A year ago, I wouldn’t have been in this pool because I always felt like everyone was staring. But you know what? I was tired of missing out on things because of my anxiety and I quickly found out that everyone on the team had better things to do than judge me about a metal arm and some scarring.”

“I know it sounds ridiculous,” I groaned. “But it’s the way I feel. Whenever I’m around the two of them I feel like a boulder next to diamonds.”

Bucky snorted, and I glared at him. He shook his head apologetically. “I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I’m just having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that you think you’re any less beautiful than Natasha or Wanda.”

“I’m not blind,” I retorted. “They have supermodel bodies. I can’t compete with that.”

“Why do you feel like you have to? This isn’t a competition, (Y/N). Your size doesn’t determine your worth as an Avenger or as a person, so it shouldn’t matter.” He grinned before standing and tugging his t-shirt over his head. “And for what it’s worth,” he said as he tossed the shirt onto the deck, “back in my day, a woman with a body like yours drove men wild.”

My eyes widened as I felt the blood rush to my face. “What are you doing?” I asked him.

“Going for a swim. You gonna join me?”

I shook my head in protest. “I’m not wearing a bathing suit…”

“Neither am I,” he laughed. “That’s what underwear are for.” Bucky slid his shorts from his hips, leaving him in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs. He grinned mischievously at me before jumping into the pool. “C’mon!” he called when he resurfaced.

“Bucky, I don’t…I can’t…” I stammered, but he was already swimming over to me. He stood, his hands on the concrete on either side of my thighs as he looked up at me.

“Come on, (Y/N),” he murmured. “Please? Just let yourself be carefree for once. If it makes you feel better, I won’t look until you’re in the pool.”

I pursed my lips, but there was no way I could say no to him, not when he was looking at me like that with those impossibly blue eyes. Finally, I rolled my eyes and groaned.

“Fine.” I said. “But turn around. Don’t move until I say.”

Bucky obeyed, a grin on his face, and I stood up to yank the t-shirt over my shoulders before shimmying out of my shorts. For a minute I stood there with my arms crossed over my chest, feeling terrifyingly exposed. At least I had thought to put on my matching black lace bra and panties earlier that night. Taking a deep breath, I slipped into the water quietly, making sure the water was deep enough to come up past my chest before I spoke.

“Okay,” I said softly, and Bucky turned. He grinned at me.

“Was that so hard?” he teased.

“Harder than it should have been,” I admitted, and Bucky’s grin turned into a sympathetic smile.

“I don’t want you to ever feel insecure or uncomfortable around me, (Y/N). I’ve always got your back, okay?”

I could only nod, at a loss for words. Hesitating, I let myself step deeper into the pool until my feet no longer reached the bottom and I had no choice but to swim. I had to admit it felt good; swimming had always been my favourite way to relax.

“So, are you sure you don’t mind missing the party?” I asked Bucky as I swam a lap around the pool. He shook his head.

“Nah, I’m happy where I’m at right now.”

Warmth spread through my body, and I smiled to myself. We swam in comfortable silence for a little bit, just enjoying the peace and quiet. At one point I came up for air, pushing the hair back from my face and not realizing I’d come up in the shallow end and the water barely reached my hips. I opened my eyes and found Bucky standing a few feet away, his eyes locked on me and his jaw slack.

Cheeks burning, I quickly dropped to my knees in the water and wrapped my arms around myself tightly, horrified. “You’re staring,” I accused in a shaky voice, and Bucky’s eyes widened as if he’d just realized what he’d done.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean to, (Y/N). It’s just…you’re…”

He was rambling, clearly uncomfortable, and I frowned as tears stung the backs of my eyes. “I get it,” I muttered, but Bucky shook his head.

“I don’t think you do get it, doll,” he murmured, his voice huskier than it had been before. When my brow furrowed, he took a couple of steps towards me, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “It blows my mind just how much you don’t get it.”

“Do you have a point to make,” I snapped weakly, “or are you just going to keep making me feel shitty about myself?”

“You have no reason to feel shitty about yourself, (Y/N); especially not with me.” He took another step closer, then another. “You’re perfect.”

“Wait…what?” I shook my head, confused. “Bucky, what the hell are you talking about?”

“You, silly girl. I’m talking about you,” he murmured. “You’re beautiful. I’ve thought so since the first time I laid eyes on you, and it kills me that you don’t see it. If you could see what I see, see how absolutely stunning you are…”

At this point my head was swimming. This was a joke; he was messing with me, knowing that I was at my most vulnerable right now.

But Bucky wouldn’t do that – He was one of the kindest people I knew. And all I had to do was look at his eyes to know he was being sincere.

“Why?” I whispered.

“Why what?”

“Why me? You could have any girl you wanted…”

“I want you, (Y/N),” he insisted. By now he was standing in front of me, and when I wouldn’t stand he sank to his knees so we were more at eye level. “I don’t know how to say it to make you believe me, but I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and god, I would spend every day of my life making sure you knew it if you’d let me.”

For a minute I couldn’t speak. I just stared at him, shocked as a lump formed in my throat, and then tears were spilling down my cheeks. Bucky’s eyes widened.

“Don’t cry, doll, shit. Did I say something wrong?” he breathed. “I didn’t mean to upset you…”

“No,” I said, shaking my head as I swiped at my tears in embarrassment. “You did nothing wrong, Bucky. I just…I keep waiting to find out this is all a joke but you’re serious, aren’t you?”

Bucky’s face softened. “Of course I’m serious! I’ve been wanting to tell you this for months but I just never knew how.” He chuckled, his cheeks tinted a light pink. “You’ve got no idea what you do to me, doll. Walking around the compound in those leggings and your loose t-shirts, hinting at what’s underneath. You’re sexier all covered up than those other girls are in their bikinis.” He bit his lip. “Do you know how many times I’ve had to leave the gym while you’re training because of what you do to me?”

Heat flooded my body, and if I weren’t already on my knees those words certainly would have brought me to them.

“Bucky…”

“I don’t want you to think I got you into the pool just so I could get you to take your clothes off,” he said quickly, looking suddenly embarrassed. “I truly did just want to help you move past your insecurities. But then I saw you and honest to god, doll, you took my breath away.”

I ducked my head. “Not even a part of you wished I was thinner?” I asked in a quiet voice. Bucky reached out to cup my cheeks in his hands.

“Absolutely not,” he said firmly. “I grew up in a different time, doll. One where women had curves and were desired even more for it.” His hands slid from my face to my shoulders, then down my back to rest on my waist. The contrast between the warmth of his flesh and the chill of the vibranium sent shivers through me, and he grinned. “Besides,” he murmured, “I like having something to grab onto when I’m with a woman.”

Bucky’s fingers dug gently into the flesh of my waist and I inhaled sharply. He held my eyes and I could feel heat pooling in my stomach as I watched the blue in his eyes slowly turn black as the reflection of the fairy lights made them glitter.

“Bucky?” I whispered breathlessly.

“Mmm, doll?”

“Kiss me.”

Bucky’s grip tightened on my waist as he pulled me closer, and then he inclined his head until his lips just barely brushed over mine. He waited a few seconds, uncertain, but when my hands reached up to clasp behind his neck and pull him back to me his lips pressed against mine with more pressure. My fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging gently, and Bucky groaned into my mouth, giving my tongue access to explore. I dragged it lightly over his bottom lip before touching it to his, and suddenly we were no longer on our knees. Bucky had pulled me up and lifted me into his arms, my legs straddling his waist as he carried me over to the edge of the pool. He sat me down, his body still between my legs, and kissed me with fresh vigor as his hands roamed over my thighs.

I broke the kiss, ducking my head. Suddenly I felt too exposed and Bucky could tell because he took his hands from my thighs to instead intertwine them with my own hands.

“(Y/N), hey,” he murmured. “It’s okay, if you don’t want to do this…”

I shook my head. “It’s not that, I just…” I trailed off, biting my lip. The next thing I knew, Bucky was lifting my hand to lay it flat against his chest, right where flesh met metal. My eyes widened slightly and he gave me a small smile.

“Bucky…” I whispered. I had touched the arm countless times when I was doing maintenance on it, but he had made it very clear from the beginning that no one was to touch the scars. And now here he was, encouraging me to do so.

“It’s okay, doll,” he murmured, his voice husky. Hesitating, I ran my fingertips lightly over the puckered skin, still an angry pink even all these years later. I could feel him shiver underneath me but he didn’t move, his eyes trained on my face as I traced the jagged lines.

“Do they still hurt?” I asked quietly, and Bucky shook his head.

“Not really. Once in awhile I’ll get a ghost pain as a reminder of how it happened, but more than anything it’s just ugly.”

I leaned in to press my lips softly to the scars. “Nothing about you is ugly.”

Bucky pulled my lips back to his as his hands slid back to my thighs. “That’s the point I’m trying to make, doll,” he murmured. “I could say the same thing about you.” He slid his hands further up my thighs and I could feel my body reacting to his touch. The heat in my stomach had returned and my body shifted until I was pressed against him, my legs wrapping around his torso while he deepened the kiss. His hands moved from my thighs to my hips, fingertips gliding over my flesh and sending shivers up and down my spine.

When his fingers reached the clasp of my bra I froze, and he pulled back from me to meet my eyes. “If you want me to stop…”

“No, I don’t, but…right here? Bucky, we could get caught…”

He shook his head. “Everyone’s too wrapped up in the party, no one will bother us for awhile.”

“And if you’re wrong?”

With a noise that could only be described as a growl, Bucky was climbing out of the pool and pulling me to my feet. Before I knew it his hands slid under my thighs and he lifted me up as if I weighed no more than a bag of flour, wrapping my legs around his waist and carrying me towards the house. Shifting my weight to one arm to open the door, his lips attacked mine as soon as we were inside. My hands tangled in his hair as our lips fought each other for dominance, and when my legs tightened around Bucky’s waist he backed into a table and knocked a vase of flowers to the floor. It shattered and Bucky disconnected his lips from mine in annoyance.

“Shit,” he swore as I giggled.

“You might wanna be more careful, Sergeant,” I teased. “Tony’s probably gonna get charged for that.”

Bucky’s eyes met mine, blue irises nearly swallowed whole by his pupils. “Call me that again,” he growled, and I arched an eyebrow.

“Sergeant?”

“Fuck,” he groaned, his fingers digging into the flesh of my thighs as my back hit a wall. His mouth was all over me and his touch was dizzying, and I tightened my grip on his shoulders. I could feel my control fading, more quickly than it ever had with anyone else. I pulled my lips away from him with a gasp.

“If we don’t get to a bedroom right now,” I said to him, “then someone’s gonna walk into this kitchen and get a show they aren’t expecting.”

With a wicked smirk, Bucky made for the stairs and took them two at a time. His room was closer and we crashed through the door, lips still locked together and hands exploring hot, damp skin. Bucky kicked the door closed behind us and then set me on my feet, hands still lingering at my waist.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured huskily, and my cheeks burned. Suddenly I was shy again and my legs felt weak. I set a hand on his arm to steady myself and his grip on my waist tightened. “(Y/N), if you don’t want to do this we can stop right now,” he said in a quiet voice, his tone gentle and sincere. “I would never ask you to do something you don’t want to do.” He lifted one hand to brush a wet strand of hair out of my face, tucking it behind my ear. “All I want is for you to know how stunning I think you are.”

My breath hitched and I looked up to meet his ocean-blue eyes. “I do want this,” I whispered. “I want you, Buck. More than anything.”

“That’s all I needed to hear,” Bucky murmured, and then he was leaning in to kiss me. It wasn’t like the other kisses, that had been all passion and lust; no, this one was soft and sweet and fueled by pure emotion. When he slowly pulled away, he nuzzled his nose against mine affectionately before meeting my eyes.

“It would be so easy to just ravage you right now,” he said in a low, even voice that sent shivers through my body, “but shit, doll, I want to do this right. I wanna take it slow and memorize every inch of you, have you squirming underneath me till you’re beggin’ me to stop and I’ve ruined you for all other men.”

As he spoke his Brooklyn accent came through and that, paired with his words, sent a wave of heat crashing through my body. I couldn’t stop the whimper from escaping my mouth, and Bucky’s lips curved into a smirk.

“That sound good, baby doll? You want it nice and slow? Want me to ruin you so I’ll be the only one to ever be able to satisfy you again?”

I had never heard Bucky talk like this; I hadn’t even known this side of Bucky existed. He was usually so reserved, and on the occasion that he did let his guard down he was still the early twentieth-century gentleman he had been raised to be. But this…Now I was starting to understand why Steve was always saying that Bucky had been such a ladies’ man back in the day. If he’d talked like this to any woman, she would’ve been lifting her skirts for him in seconds.

I wanted to say something witty, something along the lines of “Why don’t you use that talented tongue of yours for something else,” but in that moment my wits had completely escaped me and I was a hot, flustered mess. Instead, I barely managed to muster a breathless “Yes” as I looked up at him with half-lidded eyes. He lifted his flesh hand to run a calloused thumb over my lips. In a brief moment of bravery, I grazed his thumb with my teeth and then sucked it into my mouth, my eyes not leaving his.

Bucky’s eyes widened. “Shit, doll,” he swore softly, and then his hands were tugging me closer until my body was flush with his. His hands moved to grip the flesh of my backside, one cold and one hot on my skin, and I moaned into his mouth as he kissed me. I could feel the outline of his manhood against my hip, solid and large, and when I shifted against it his hands on me tightened.

He backed me up until my legs hit the bed and then he was lowering me onto the mattress, crawling up after me until his body hovered above mine. He held my eyes for the briefest of moments and then I was pulling him back into a kiss. He pressed his hips down into mine and in return I bucked up into him, craving the friction I needed to relieve the pressure building inside me.

Bucky slid a hand underneath me to undo the clasp of my bra with deft fingers, and then he broke our kiss to trail his lips down my throat to my collarbone as he slid the damp garment from my shoulders. My nipples, hard from a combination of the cool dampness of my bra and my arousal, stood erect as my chest heaved with ragged breaths. Bucky’s eyes were pools of black in the dark room, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he drank in the sight before him.

“Touch me,” I begged in a raspy whisper, and then his hands were on me – one cool and smooth and the other hot and rough – roaming over my curves but purposely avoiding my breasts. He finally cupped them softly, fingers kneading flesh, and when his thumbs brushed over my nipples, I arched up into him with a soft moan.

“Such a good girl,” he murmured. “Promise I’ll take real good care of you, doll.”

His hands slid down my body at an agonizing pace, and with them so did his mouth. He latched onto a nipple and sucked it gently into his mouth and his name left my lips in a breathless plea. He moved onto the other nipple, his hands slowly sliding further down my body. When the fingertips of his metal hand reached the waistband of my underwear he hesitated, his eyes meeting mine.

“Tell me what you want, doll,” he murmured.

“I want you…” I whined, but Bucky shook his head.

“That could mean anything. I need you to tell me exactly what you want; I’m not doing anything until you do.”

I was so strung out already and he’d barely even touched me – I wasn’t even sure I could form coherent sentences at the moment. “Your hand,” I managed to rasp, and when his flesh hand inched up my thigh I shook my head and reached out to grasp his wrist. “No. The metal one.”

Bucky’s eyes widened. “(Y/N), I –” he choked, but I cut him off.

“You asked what I wanted,” I pointed out, and then in a softer voice I added, “Please.”

Blue eyes burned as his left hand slid up my thigh slowly, pushing the black lace aside and exposing the heat between my legs. He let out an almost-silent groan at the sight.

“Already so wet for me, doll,” he whispered, voice thick with desire. His metal digits swiped through my wetness, spreading it over my folds, and I let out a shuddering whimper at the contrast of his cool fingers on my aching heat. He continued to run his fingertips through my folds, and once he was satisfied he sank one and then two fingers into me, drawing out an obscenely embarrassing moan from my lips.

“Don’t hold back, doll,” he murmured. “I wanna hear every pretty little noise that comes out of that pretty little mouth.”

As he spoke, Bucky flexed his fingers inside me and I cried out, back arching off the mattress. He smirked.

“So tight, doll,” he praised. “Gonna feel so good around me when I’m inside you.”

“Bucky…” I whimpered, and when he pulled his fingers out of me I let out an exasperated whine that set him to chuckling.

“Don’t worry, doll, it’s only for a second,” he assured me, and then he was on his knees between my legs and tugging my damp panties from my hips. “I gotta make sure you’re good and ready for me, you’re so tight I wanna make sure I don’t hurt you.”

I didn’t have time to respond before two thick metal digits were once again filling me up and his tongue left a hot, wet stripe up my folds to my clit. I let out a strangled gasp, hips bucking up into his face as my hands instinctively tangled in his damp hair. I tugged on the dark locks and Bucky groaned against my folds, sending vibrations through me that freshly slickened his fingers and tongue. He began to slide his metal fingers in and out of me at a steady pace, not rough but not exactly gentle either, and the feel of his fingers curling against my inner walls combined with the way his tongue drank down everything I had to offer him and his lips wrapped around my clit had me on the edge in no time. With one last hard suck my moan evolved into a strangled scream, his name falling from my lips in heated ecstasy. He brought me down with kitten licks as his fingers slowed, and then his teeth nipped the inside of my thigh affectionately before he slid up my body to kiss me languorously.

I could taste myself on Bucky’s lips and it fueled my desire. I locked my legs around his waist, grinding my still-sensitive wet heat against the bulge in his boxer briefs. He let out a grunt and rolled his hips into mine, teeth grazing the skin of my throat.

“No more teasing,” I said breathily. “Need you inside me…Now. Please, Buck, I can’t wait another second…”

Not needing to be told twice, Bucky shed his boxer briefs and then his body was over mine again. I could feel his length, hot, heavy and solid against my hip, and I reached down between us to take him into my hand. Bucky let out a small hiss, and butterflies filled my stomach when I realized how large he was. Now I understood his comment about getting me ready had been more than just dirty talk. As I slid his length through my slick folds to coat it in my juices, though, I concluded that he would have no trouble; the feel of his hard cock against me was enough to have me dripping with fresh arousal.

“(Y/N), fuck,” he said through clenched teeth, and with a demure smile I lined him up with my entrance and let go of him.

“Ruin me, Sergeant,” I murmured, and with a purely animalistic growl Bucky sheathed himself fully in me in one slow thrust.

We both let out long, low groans, and Bucky held himself still as I squeezed my eyes shut and adjusted to his size. The stretch of my walls around him bordered on painful, but it was overshadowed by the deliciously satisfying feeling of being so completely full of such a beautiful man. A beautiful man who was looking down at me with both undeniable adoration and feverish restraint.

“Just tell me…just tell me when,” Bucky grunted, and I realized he had been holding his breath. Wickedly, I squeezed my walls around him and he gasped, blue eyes wide as he let out a string of curses from his kiss-swollen lips. He fixed a glare on me and shook his head. “Do that again, doll, and this is gonna be over before we’ve even had a chance to start.”

“So start, then,” I said in exasperation, and with a glint in his eyes Bucky pulled out almost all the way only to thrust back into me with force, knocking the breath out of me. In a few thrusts I was matching Bucky’s rhythm, hands on his back pulling him as close as humanly possible to me as nails dug into flesh.

The room quickly filled with the grunts and moans of passion, accompanied by the sound of skin on skin. Bucky’s hands slid under my thighs to lift my legs and wrap them around his waist – This new angle not only let him hit that elusive spot in me that even I often had a hard time finding, but it also had his pubic bone grinding against my clit every time he pounded into me. Within seconds this new position had me keening, and Bucky grinned down at me before nuzzling his face against my neck.

“That feel good does it, baby girl?” he panted into my ear, every word punctuated by a calculated thrust of his unforgiving length into my yielding heat. “You got me so fucking hard, seein’ how wrecked you are underneath me. Wanna draw those pretty noises from you all night long till everyone knows how good I make you feel.”

“Bucky…” I whined, nails biting deeper into the taut flesh of his back as he drove into me fiercely. “Buck, I’m…”

As quick as he started, his movements stopped. I opened my mouth to protest, breathless and hopelessly strung out, but with his length still inside me he flipped us over so I was straddling his hips. In this position I could feel him even deeper inside me, something I hadn’t thought possible, and with a moan my head fell back. I could feel him chuckle beneath me, and then his hands were on my hips and he was rocking me against him slowly.

I took over the movements, grinding my hips against his until we were both groaning in pleasure. Bucky’s hands slid up my thighs, over every curve and up to my breasts. He took them into his large hands and brushed his thumbs over my nipples, bringing a breathless moan from my lips as I arched into his touch.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, and the softness of his tone had me opening my eyes to see that he was looking up at me with absolute adoration shining in his eyes as his thumbs traced across my breasts, still cupped in his hands. It was in that moment that I realized this had not been a heat-of-the-moment thing, nor did he intend for it to be a casual thing. This man – this beautiful, remarkable, supersoldier of a man – was as infatuated with me as I was with him. Dizzy with this revelation, I placed my palms flat on his hard chest to steady myself.

Bucky rolled his hips up into mine gently, and then with more vigor as the seconds passed. It took no time at all for me to find myself on the edge of release. I could tell Bucky was close, too; his thrusts, which had been delivered with precision up until now, were sloppier and more erratic. I leaned down to capture his lips in a fiery kiss.

“Come for me,” I panted, my voice barely above a whisper. “Come for me, Buck, I wanna feel you.”

He let out a soft curse in what sounded like Romanian, and then one hand was on my waist pulling me onto him while he drove up into me, while his flesh hand snaked between us so he could press his thumb onto my still-sensitive bud. That did it, and with a cry I came undone. Bucky was only a few seconds longer, spilling into me with a quiet groan that sent a small wave of heat through my spent body.

Exhausted in the best way possible, I collapsed on Bucky’s chest, and his arms wound around me to hold me closer to himself. He rolled us over so that I was more comfortably snuggled into his side, smoothing my damp hair away from my face and pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. It was like that that I fell asleep, the soft rise and fall of his chest lulling me into a peaceful slumber.

A sharp knock on the door woke me up the next morning. Sometime through the night Bucky must have pulled the covers over us, but now I poked my head anxiously out from under the cocoon he had created. Another knock sounded, and this time I sat up and elbowed Bucky in the side. He let out a grunt in annoyance, still half-asleep, when Steve’s voice followed the knock.

“Buck, are you awake in there? C’mon, Tony’s rounding everyone up. He wants to leave by eleven.”

At this Bucky’s eyes opened, and he glared at the door. “I’ll be on time,” he snapped. “Worry about yourself, punk. I just have to pack.”

Steve muttered an indistinguishable response. When Bucky was sure he was gone he rolled over to nuzzle his face against my neck, arms pulling me tight to him.

“Mornin’, doll,” he murmured into my skin, sending a shiver through me.

“Morning,” I replied, the feel of his lips on me temporarily making me forget we had just almost been caught. I wanted to continue where we had left off the night before, but I knew that Tony was very strict in his scheduling and the clock on Bucky’s nightstand said it was already ten-thirty. Reluctantly, I went to pull away from Bucky, but his arms around me tightened.

“Not yet,” he mumbled, metal hand skimming over the skin of my hip and raising goosebumps. “We still have time.”

“Buck, I still have to pack,” I protested unconvincingly. “Besides, Steve almost caught us…”

As if on cue, more voices sounded out in the hallway. “Has anyone seen (Y/N)?” Wanda asked. “She isn’t in her room.”

“She left the party early last night, haven’t seen her since,” Peter replied, and I cursed under my breath. As I went to sit up, Bucky’s door swung open and Steve’s large form filled the door frame. His eyes widened as he took in Bucky and I together in bed, me holding the blankets up to hide my nakedness, and then our underwear discarded on the floor. Shock quickly dissipated into a mischievous smirk, but he at least had the decency to blush. Before anyone could say anything, Sam’s voice was yelling up the stairs.

“Yo, I think I know where (Y/N) is!” he said, glee underlining his tone as he jogged up the stairs. When he caught Steve standing in the doorway and Bucky and I in the bed with flushed cheeks, a shit-eating grin spread across his face.

He tossed something onto the bed, and I realized it was the clothes we’d left by the pool the night before. “I figured you’d need those before you snuck back to your own room,” he said to me with a wink, and then he turned to Steve. “C’mon, Cap, let’s leave these two to get dressed.”

Both of them fixing us with one more smirk, they shut the door and we were alone again. I buried my face in my hands with a groan, but all of a sudden I was on my back and Bucky was on top of me.

“Well,” he murmured, “since everyone knows we might as well make a good impression.”

I grinned up at him. “You’ve got fifteen minutes before Tony storms in here and drags us onto that quinjet by our ears,” I teased. “Think you can manage that?”

“Oh, doll, fifteen minutes is plenty of time to let everyone know you belong to me.”

#bucky barnes smut #bucky x reader smut #bucky x reader #bucky barnes reader #bucky barnes #bucky reader smut #smut #avengers #mcu #beach house

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winter-soldier-vibes · 4 years

Text

You saved me (Steve Rogers x reader)

You saved me

Steve Rogers x reader

Summary: Steve Rogers loses you (his girlfriend) in the battle of Wakanda (set in Infinity War) and mourns. Until he finds out he might be able to bring you back

Word count 2146

Warnings: spoilers for one, death/dust, mourning

A/N: THIS CONTAINS INFINITY WAR AND ENDGAME SPOILERS. Also, I know that this isn’t verbatim what happens, but I paraphrased. A lot of the battle is included here, so seriously, if you haven’t watched the movies, don’t read this quite yet. Sorry if I got something wrong. I DON’T OWN ANYTHING MARVEL the battle in Infinity War and Endgame are both mentioned and paraphrased but it is not my ideas.

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It had destroyed Steve so much. You were fighting with him inj Wakanda against Thanos, and had joined him to try and protect Vision and the Mind stone while Wanda was trying to destroy it before he got to it. You were a skilled fighter, and had learned from Natasha years ago. Fighting was your specialty.

You were fighting some of Thanos’ army when you heard a yell from Steve and turned around just in time to see him get punched by Thanos

“STEVE!” you yelled, running over to him. Thanos paid no attention to you, turning back to Vision. You crouched down beside him, checking to make sure he was just unconscious, not dead. You put your ear to his chest to feel his heart still beating. Thank God, you thought.

You tried waking him up, slapping his face gently. “Come on, Steve. They still need us Cap…” you said. You took a breath before giving him a hard slap across the face.

His eyes opened and he made a move to defend himself. “Hey hey hey, Steve, it’s me, it’s y/n. I’m sorry babe, I just had to wake you up.”

He nodded, sighing in relief. “Where’s Thanos?” he asked.

The two of you looked around to see Thor fly out of the sky and shove his axe into Thanos’ chest and push it further. You sighed in relief. Maybe it was finally over.

You could see the two of them talking, and Thanos raised his left hand. You heard Thor yell “NO!” as he snapped.

Confused, you watched light flash out from the stones and you looked around, trying to figure out what had happened. Nothing seemed to have changed, but then you started getting this weird feeling in your stomach, like you were about to pass out.

You tried to stand, but stumbled. You looked at your hands to see them turning into dust. “Steve….” you looked up from your dissolving fingertips. “I - I don’t know what’s happening.” you said, starting to panic as your arms vanished.

The last thing you heard was Steve saying your name

Steve watched in horror as you dissolved into thin air. He knelt down in front of where you had been, running his hands through the pile of dust on the ground. He looked up when he heard his name from his friend Bucky

“Steve?”

He looked up just in time to see Bucky dissolve just as you had moments ago.

He went over to where Bucky had just been, seeing the dust fall to the ground just like it had with you.

He found out later that the same thing had happened to trillions across the universe. Thanos had done it. He had annihilated half of the population.

When they followed Nebula to where Thanos was living to retrieve the stones, he was devastated when he learned that the stones were gone. Along with any chance of saving you.

He spent the next 5 years in despair. He tried to look on the bright side, tried to move on like he told everyone else to. But he was falling apart inside. When he woke up after being frozen for 70 years, he thought he had lost Peggy. A few years later she had really died. On Zola’s train, he thought he had lost Bucky only to find out that he was the Winter Soldier in 2014. When he found you he had finally been moving on from all of that. Starting over. But now you, and his best friend, were really gone.

He would try and replay every memory he had of you, making sure to remember every single detail. He couldn’t let himself forget. It was painful to remember, but he couldn’t bear to think of not being able to remember everything he had with you.

The love you had for each other.

Gone with the snap of the fingers

Literally dissolved into nothing.

He tried to keep it together for everyone, tried to get people to look on the bright side, but he never was able to himself. He couldn;t help but wish it had been him instead.

He didn;t know what to do with himself. There wasn;t a fight anymore, you weren;t there and neither was Bucky, he needed to do something but there wasn;t really anything to do.

They were the longest years of his life.

Eventually he learned to move forward, but never fully. He couldn’t ever hope to find love again. He still loved you. No, he ran a group to help people cope. He figured if he couldn’t help himself he could help other people.

When Scott Lang showed up at Headquarters rambling about the quantum realm and time travel, he dared to hope again.

Maybe he could actually bring you back.

He went to Tony’s house with Scott and Nat to ask him about Scott’s idea. He tried not to show it, but he was desperate. When he said no, he tried to understand. But once again, he was crushed.

When Tony showed up a few days later having figured out a way to go back in time successfully, he tried to contain his excitement. He didn;t want to get his hopes up too high, but he couldn’t help it rising within him. He might actually be able to save you this time.

The entire time of gathering the stones and time travel, he kept you in mind. He’d do anything to get you back. Whatever it takes.

He stood there as Bruce snapped, and he looked around. Clint looked at his phone that had started ringing, and he could tell by the way he spoke that it was his family. That had died 5 years ago.

“Did we do it?” someone asked.

Steve just stood there in shock. Could it actually have worked?

A missile was shot through the ceiling, blowing everyone back. “What the hell was that?”

More missiles were shot, scattering everyone throughout the compound, and smashing the compound the smithereens. Most of the people fell down into the earth, along with the gauntlet and the stones. The missiles had come from a ship that was making its way down through the atmosphere, and it was apparent that it was Thanos.

How the hell did he get here?

Steve was one of 3 that hadn’t fallen underground, and Tony stood over him with his shield. He handed it to him, helping him up and walking to where Thor stood at the edge of the wrecked building, where he saw him

Thanos

Sitting on the edge of a rock, just waiting. But for what?

The 3 of them walked over to him. “You could not live with your own failure. And it brought you back to me. I thought that getting rid of half of you would cause those who survived to be grateful. But you’ve proved me wrong” he laughed to himself. “At least now I know what I must do.” he stood and picked up his sword. “I’ll build a new universe.”

“Out of what? S[illed blood?” Steve asked.

“At least they won’t know it.” He replied.

Tony suited up and Thor summoned lightning, helping Tony blast Thanos. He stumbled back, but grabbed Tony just in time to block Thor’s hammer from hitting him. Tony flung back and the impact knocked him out.

Thanos turned to Steve and threw him before throwing his sword at Thor. He battled with him before flinging him to a rock and standing over him with the axe Thor had been using.

Steve got up and focused his concentration, holding his hand out and praying that this would work. He saw the hammer start to move, before it flung past Thanos and into his hand.Hell yeah.

Thor shook his head. “I knew it.”

Steve walked toward Thanos and began fighting him with the hammer, summoning lightning and even surprising himself. He directed it to Thanos, and ran towards him to hit him in the head with the hammer. He missed and Thanos grabbed him and threw the hammer out of reach, before holding his shield up to block the sword. His shield began chipping away until he barely had half of it and was thrown across the battlefield, flat on his back.

Steve pushed himself off the floor, not listening to what Thanos was saying to him. He watched as his army was beamed down from spaceship after spaceship. He kept trying to stand, trying to figure out a scenario in which this ended well. He finally stood up and heard on his earpiece,

Steve, do you read me?

He stood there, trying to believe what he was hearing. It had sounded like Sam

Steve it’s Sam, do you copy?

He felt the breath leave his lungs.

On your left

He turned around in time to see an orange portal open and T’Challa, Okoye, and Shuri standing there. After having a silent conversation through their stares, Sam flew through the portal, and more portals began opening around him, the people he mourned walking through them. Steven Strange, Peter Parker, Wanda, Bucky…

He looked around, only looking for one person in particular. And then he found them

You.

You stood there. Suited up and ready to fight. You nodded at Steve, smiling. He wanted nothing more but to run over and hug you, but he knew there was a war to be run first. More people pooled through the portals, all of them ready to fight. An army stood beside and behind him and he held out his hand for Thor’s hammer. “Avengers!”

He caught the hammer whirling at him.

“Assemble.”

Shouts were yelled and everyone began charging, the world vs Thanos and his army. It was brutal. For you it had just been moments ago that this same battle took place, and you didn;t know what had happened in between your arms dissolving and a sorcerer showing up from the sky saying that 5 years had passed and the battle was still happening. For you, a few minutes had passed. For Steve, it was a lifetime.

You fought beside Steve for most of it, like you usually did when you were on a mission. When there was a brief moment, you looked at your boyfriend. “Since when are you able to use that thing?” referring to Thor’s hammer. He looked at it. “About 5 minutes ago.” You nodded, turning back to the incoming aliens and stabbing them.

You kept fighting them as they came, not willing to lose this time around. It happened once, it could happen again. You had never fought so fiercely in your life. A Few times you were overwhelmed by the sheer number of aliens around you, but a bolt of lightning would save your ass and you’d go back to fighting.

You don’t know how long it lasted, and you were covered in lacerations and blood, but as you were running out of stamina, the aliens around you began turning into dust. You looked around, panting, as Thanos’ army began to disintegrate, eyes landing on Tony laying limp against a pile of buildings. You were about to go check on him, when you felt someone grab your arm.

Steve.

You turned around to meet his eyes that were bloodshot. “Y/n?”

You smiled and let out a breath, bringing your hand to his face. “It’s me Steve. I’m okay.”

He pulled you into a bone crushing hug, and you could feel him trembling. Hell, you were trembling too. The adrenaline was wearing off and the pain was setting in.

“I missed you so much y/n.”

You hugged him a little tighter. “I know. I missed you too.”

You knew it had been a lot longer for him, but you didn’t want to seem insensitive. You couldn’t imagine living 5 years without Steve, especially if you didn’t know he was coming back.

“I’m here Steve. I’m safe.”

He spoke with a wavering voice. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you.”

You pulled back and shook your head. “No, Steve. You did everything you could. It’s not your fault.”

He cupped your cheeks, shaking his head. “I thought I lost you.”

You smiled. “You didn’t. You saved me, Captain Rogers.”

#avengers #avengers assemble #mcu #marvel #captain america #steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #infinity war #engame #spoilers ahead #i thought i lost you #battle of thanos #fanfiction #imagine #thanos snap

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super-hero-girls-netflix · 3 years

Note

How about both if you want? If not you can choose.

Emotional questionnnnn: What if a superhero died (including Batman and Superman cause why not >:))?

Uhmm...I'm going to talk mostly about if they just witnessed the death of the others since I don't think I'm ready to unpack the emotional baggage of killing a friend. ( But if you also about a specific kill with specific details on how it happened you can bet I'll give you a specific answer.)

It's clear in the aftermath of Superman vs Barman that Superman's death would take a toll on the civilians. He's iconic that way, I think it would be especially hard on Kara. And it would be terrible for Gotham morale and Batgirl especially, if Batman dies while being a hero.

It'd be terrible if either hero died. Both are incredibly strong and intelligent. If either died it would mean a villain strong enough and reckless enough to simply murder any adversary.

It would be pretty scary to all if Superman died....after all Cryptonien's are supposed to be indestructible, no?

Kara would take the death pretty hard. In denial, probably. Insisting that there is a way to bring him back.

If one of the Invincibro's (yo bros) died then it'll hit hard.

It'll hit differently depending on the counterpart. And the situation.

For example, if Hal died both sides will mourn. And the Invicibros will be a mess (I suspect that Steve and Hal were co-captains, if anything Steve is a bit of a figurehead). Speaking of 'captain' the school, whoever knew the confident brunet will be in shock because Hal always seemed a little invincible. Many would mourn him since he grows on you....like fungi. Jess will be wrecked and she'd blame herself because of course she would. She was his partner, she should have been there. 'And oh gosh she was alone now, she'd have to defend the space sector alone. And even if she's assigned a new partner it wouldn't matter because they weren't an obnoxious, confident, self-centered Hal'. And yes, there will be a certain dampness in the atmosphere for both teams.

If Barry died both teams (the whole city even) would mourn. Barry was beloved as both Barry the dessert slinger and the Flash, superhero speedster. Barry was kind of the kindness of the group. The one who did good for no other motive than the fact that he loved deeply and wanted to keep everyone safe. The team would keep chugging along with this mindset...but I don't think they'd be able to eat at Sweet Justice anymore. It would hit Babs' hard because he was her best (guy) friend and they swore to have each other's backs (in my AU) and she didn't have his and now he's dead. I think the girls would prefer to just move their headquarters since Sweet Justice was painful enough to just think about.

If Carter died I'm afraid no one will notice. Hawkman's death will be acknowledged but not Carter's. Carter's death if given any attention at school would be a mystery much like he was. Same with Hawkman, his death will be mourned but he'd be considered a mystery death because of his quiet nature. This will drive the boys mad because Carter Hall was DEAD and no one seemed to care. How can they not realize that everything has changed? Carter was more or less the level-headed one of the group. It would be particularly terrible for Karen since Carter was big and strong and knowing he's dead? Yes...she wouldn't take it well. She'd most likely try to avenge him.

If Oliver died it would be a bit of a scandal. I'm sure he has quite the fan base as both an aspiring actor and the charismatic Green Arrow. He was always the *cue dramatic gasp* dramatic one of the bunch. His death will be, you guessed it, terrible. Since happy, confident, loyal Green Arrow was killed. The atmosphere around the team would tune quiet, if a little hollow but they'd keep chugging through since Oliver wasn't friends with quitters. And it would hit Zee differently because the last thing they did was fight (of course they did) and now he's dead and she realized that she had fun arguing with him and their rivalry made acting so much more fun and now how is she supposed to perform when her co-star was dead? When the idiot who would make rude faces behind the curtains and then grudgingly admit she did 'decently' was dead?!? It would hit hard because Oliver and Zee shared a passion and they both left a stain there. She'd forever associate her love for the stage to her complicated friendship with a dead actor. (I think she'd hate when in the future people forget Oliver Queen's name). The whole girl said would mourn but they didn't know Oliver as well as Zee and Zee's a wreck so they'd channel their grief into comforting her.

God help the idiot who murders Steve. If Diana hasn't already killed you, the team will. The Invincibro's, I mean. Steve is a bit of a figurehead so kill the queen and they will make it their life mission to avenge him. That is all after the grieving, of course. Steve will be mourned heavily by both teams, especially by Diana and the Invicibros. Diana will be confused at first because she never even thought that Steve could die. Never crossed her mind. She never asked for anything, wanted for anything, but she wanted him. Him to be alive. How is that even possible??! Jeez, I don't see much of him so that's all I can really say.

If Garth is killed well... Both teams will be horrified and heartbroken. It's just that Garth is so innocent and sweet. And he was killed. The whole school I think would notice because the football team will mourn (in my AU) him. The city might be a bit indifferent because despite his confidence he never demanded as much attention as his team. But the team will never be indifferent to it. The Invincibro's will be furious to hide the fact that they are wrecked because yes, Garth can handle himself in a fight but he was only fourteen. He had plans and he was their friend, goddamit. (I really want to go in depth about how the girls and guys would react but I'll resist.) Kara will react similarly because how dare they take her little brother away?? One thing is letting him handle himself when he's getting bullied but killing him?

Okay...this is a quick peek at how the team and counterpart will react to their death....now for the girls!!

(they are all killed, okay? No different or accidental deaths)

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If Jess were killed the team would be a wreck, of course. Jess, I like to think, was the mom friend and medic of the group. The girls will mourn and healing will be hard. Very hard. They'll remember all the things she holds dear. I have no doubt they'll participate in protests like Jess has been bugging them to do when she was alive. The Invincibro's will be sad too, of course. Initially, then they'll be pissed. Won't rest untill they help the SHG defeat the killer. And Hal? He'll be feral, of course he would. He is very possessive and very loyal. He'd be in denial at first (they all would) because how can Jessica Fricking Cruz, passionate kind selfless Jess be dead?? That's not possible. She cared too much, had too much to do- she can't be dead. But I feel like halfway through his revenge rampant he'll remember that Jess was a pacifist and he'll...I dunno.

If Babs died the team will be swinging from horrified, to unbelieving, to furious. They'd be sad because Babs loved being a superhero and she loved helping people and now she was dead and- they'd be a mess. And don't even get me started on how Barry would take it. Wanna know how he'd take it? Very badly. Why? Because Babs is his best friend and his counterpart and he's supposed to watch her back and she's gone for real and this is terrible and he's so sensitive and everything is fallings apart it seems. He'll definitely be a little more jaded, a lot more protective and burst into tears when anyone orders a candy cake triple ripple tower with rainbow sprinkles. But then overtime it'll turn into a sad smile. Man, the Invincibro's will also be horrified since Babs was close to pretty much everyone.

If Karen died? Absolute pandemonium. The team will be equal parts blaming themselves and torn with guilt and sorrow. They will tear the world apart looking for a way to fix it somehow. Fix it the way Karen would have. The boy team, because despite all their teasing, will be in uproar because no one messed with Karen but them!! And Carter? He'll be at war with himself, because he should have protected her, the pipsqueak was too young and small and fragile to be able to hold off evil by herself and how dare she put herself in that situation? How dare she just leave them like that?? I feel like he'll be in denial for a long time, working through everything to avoid processing his grief but when it does it'll hit hard. Probably because of something small but subtle. Like getting electrocuted because Karen had quite a few fractal scars from her experimenting and super heroing. Or when he realizes he got stung by a bee- it's the little moments when it strikes deep.

If Zee died it would be a bit absolutely scandalous of course. Not only will the girls be horrified and heartbroken but so will Zee's fanbase as an actor and her father's assistant. The girls will have quite some time to even begin to adjust but soon enough they will jump straight into plotting their revenge. The boys will be livid of course but none more that her counterpart Oliver Queen. Oliver won't quite believe it, I don't think, he'll just think that Zee will just magically resurrect herself because the annoying actress who liked hogging his showtime couldn't possibly be dead. She was like a cockroach! No matter how many times squashed beneath your shoe those wretched little things will just come back. All the time...she couldn't be gone. And truly he didn't hate her, he just liked having a goal. To outshine Zee Zatara. So...how could she be dead? This will hit especially hard when he doesn't have a counterpart to fight with. Or when the leading lady role goes to someone new. Clear to say that Zee Zatara's death will be every bit heart wrenching.

If Diana dies be prepared for hell. The girls will fall apart with grief after avenging their leader. I feel that Babs would try to keep everyone together at least. The boy team will be furious because Diana was their battle plan leader too! And how- they'd be confused because how can the immortal Diana Prince die? The school would definitely have a service for the mystery top student. How would Steve react? He'd be horrified and lost, and confused but then he'd help the girls avenge W.W and live the rest of his life upholding Diana's values. (I'm not quite sure how he'd handle the grief.)

If Kara dies then there will of course first be the mourning (at least according to the show). Then the shock. Then the doubt because hasn't Kara 'died' before? And that would lead to hope which will make the moment of confirmation the most painful. For both teams. Garth will be completely blindsided with grief and anger because how dare they take his big sister? How dare they hurt moody, cold, rude at times, big softie at heart, Kara? And well I guess we'll discover that rage is also a prominent feature if the ocean, is it not? So yes, this will be an emotional rollercoaster no doubt about it.

✨✨✨EXTRA EXTRA✨✨✨

This extra will be non-super hero's who will also mourn and attempt to avenge the lost one.

Diana- she is the princess of an island of immortal warrior woman. Her mom is 'a final boss'. She will have plenty of people to avenger her (not that she would want that, per say). I kind of have a suspicion that Queen of Amazon's will either be overly sympathetic ('my daughter has chosen her path, now we can only honor her') or furiously because they were part of her daughters dream that got Diana killed (may you pray we never cross paths again or I will curse you as you have cursed me).

Karen- not sure... but maybe her parents??? They can make a suit too??

Kara- Her cousin because family is family and that's period and she's like the only survivor who doesn't want him (genuinely) dead. And Alex, her step-sister- maybe.

Jess- Green Lantern Corp.? Dexstarr?

Zee- her DAD, remember they are super close and he's super powerful and yeah....

Babs- Her dad- who's like a cop and even though he shown to be extremely lazy I have no doubt that he'd drop the donuts to find out what happened to his precious pumpkin pants. Might even call I'm Batman. Harleen, yes Harleen who tried to murder Robin because he embarrassed Babs will definitely go after her best friends murderer (even after finding out Vans secret identity)

Okay for Steve and Carter I genuinely don't know.

Garth, I'm not sure but if he's actually underwater royalty than you can expect a whole lot of flooding, earthquakes and sea monsters.

Hal- starfire is coming for your but

Oliver- Mortimer Drake, maybe? They are sort of bro's

Barry- DA WHOLE ENTIRE WORLD

Well...this was fun, wasn't it? Thanks for the beautiful ask, as usual @thedevilsmusicbox and I look forward to hearing from you. 😁🙋

#dc superheroes #dc super hero girls #dc superhero girls 2019 #dc superhero girls netflix #dc super hero high #barry allen #jessica cruz #diana prince #barbara gordon #karen beecher #carter hall #hal jordan #kara danvers #garth #oliver queen #zee zatara #great ask #death #if they die

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thoughtfullyyoungduck · 3 years

Text

You messed with my heart too long

A/N: I posted this anonymously on ao3, but I’m really proud of writing this so decided to post it on here as well. Please, please let me know what you think, it would mean the world to me.

Summary: When Richie accidentally burns his food right at the same time as Eddie arrives home, he fears he's in for a verbal beat down. He's used to that thank to his ex-boyfriend, who mentally and emotionally abused him before Richie realized what he was doing to him. Once Eddie works out what is happening, he is quick to assure Richie he would never treat him in the same manner.

Warnings!: mental abuse, mentions of physical abuse and Bev’s abusive ex, Richie thinks Eddie going to react badly (he doesn’t but he still thinks about it)

read on AO3

Richie, in all fairness, has never had any confidence in any way, shape or form. He’s not sure why that is. His mom and dad were good, loving parents that indulged into his secret little hobby’s, and when Richie at age 24, a fresh college drop-out, told his parents he was going to take a gamble and try to make it as a comedian, they supported him wholeheartedly. Of course, they were a little disappointed that he never got a degree in case things in the comedy field didn’t work out, but they were convinced of Richie’s talent. They were truly the best parents anyone could ever wish for, at least in Richie’s mind.

The losers were also nothing if not supportive towards him, though they had been long gone before Richie turned 24. They made fun of him sometimes, on the occasions where a joke ran too far or failed miserably, but they also made sure that Richie knew how much they adored him in reality.

Beside from getting scolded at every now and again by Eddie or Stan, about his hygiene or lack of self-awareness, they also never tried to change him to fit their wants. For some unknown, nonsensical reason, they liked Richie with his flaws and all.

Truly, Richie has no inkling as to where his insecurities came from, but he does know that he never let them stop him from doing anything when he was still friends with the losers. Quite the opposite even, if he got nervous about performing in front of his class, he would loudly ask to go first, laughing boisterously and slouching against the teachers desks, pretending like the activity wasn’t even a blip on his radar. When Henry’s taunt would hit a particular soft spot, and Richie felt the urge to sulk or mope, he’d double down on the thing Henry found annoying, and get a bloody nose for his troubles.

He fought hard to be ready to perform in front of people that weren’t the losers or his parents, and the losers departing from Derry just made that worse. With the losers, he felt confident enough to try and be himself, without them, he saw himself as useless in every sense. His very first live performance sucked, and in retrospect he’s really glad none of the losers were present because within five minutes of walking on the stage, he had forgotten his lines and threw up in full sight of the audience.

If his mother hadn’t persuaded him into trying again a few months later, and that one actually working out, Richie ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier would have been buried before it began.

But that was before all the progress Richie made in all the years he’s been doing comedy. Despite having the occasional setback, he mostly outgrew throwing up before an act, and he could objectively look at himself in the mirror and conclude that he wasn’t the most hideous person the world had ever had the displeasure of seeing.

In fact, according to people on his twitter page, he was being described as hot and possessing a form of appeal that drew people in. He didn’t find himself good looking by any means, but there was a huge difference between hating everything about himself, and accepting that he was not as hideous as the beast from the Disney fairy tales he was a big fan of as a kid.

And then, in the prime of his mental health, he had met David, and every ounce of self-worth faltered like snow under the burning scorch of the sun. It only took five weeks for David to absolutely destroy the very thing Richie had toiled at for over twenty years.

David was his first boyfriend, who he met just shortly before his thirtieth birthday, and he took more than advantage of that. The first night they first laid eyes on each other, after one of Richie’s shows, David had walked up to him at a bar and promptly declared his show was absolute shit.

Normally Richie would feel hurt by these comments and would pretend to brush them off as if they were never uttered, but something about the way he said it caused Richie to laugh so hard he snorted part of his beer through his nose. It wasn’t until he saw Eddie with Bill and Mike at Jade the Orient ten years later, that his quarter fell. In the beginning, David had reminded him of Eddie. It wasn’t until much later that it became clear David’s intentions were not as innocents as Eddie’s.

Richie assumed the guy was pulling his pants, because who would dedicate their time to flat out insult someone they had never met, and so he had greeted him and bought him another beer. David wasn’t particularly funny, and he never laughed at Richie’s jokes throughout the night either, but he was very eloquent and could keep up with Richie’s conversation topics, though he always seemed to be able to turn and twist the subject so that it gave away another one of his qualities.

By the end of the night Richie never expected to hear from him again, and he was okay with that. His conversation partner had been interesting, but not to the point where Richie wanted to know everything about him or see him again.

David felt otherwise, as thanks to a mutual friend of theirs, he’d found Richie’s number, and when he texted him to ask him on a date, Richie had been too thrilled that someone was interested in him to containplat if he even wanted to go.

That same day the date took place, David had granted himself the title of boyfriend, and Richie went right along with him. They never officially verbally agreed to date, but they held hands and David slept over most nights then not, and his mother got so happy that she saw him with someone that things progressed naturally.

At first, Richie didn’t notice that David was influencing him in a negative way. He only had one close friend, Steve, who was simultaneously also his manager, and he constantly praised David for making Richie a changed man. Because Steve saw it as something positive, so did Richie.

His voice got progressively stiller, as David would ream at him multiple times a day that he was annoying everyone around them with his booming voice, and that he was an attention-seeker who would do anything to get the limelight on him. Richie practiced his voices less and less when David started to critic every aspect of them every time he would overhear him. It got worse once they started living together full time.

‘Hey Rich, no voices? Come on I want to know if you’ve improved over the years, let us hear it.’

He cut off all fatty foods when David glanced at his plate and grimaced, asking if he was really going to eat everything on the plate. He didn’t say it in so many words, but Richie could connect the dots that led him to believe David found him too fat. Lying became a sort of second nature to Richie, as he dared to eat a small pack of chips when David was away, and deluded him the next day by stating he hadn’t eaten any. Sometimes, at times where David thought Richie was away, he would observe him going through their trash to catch Richie in the lie. He’d fight tooth and nail to deny the accusation, and never admitted to it.

David complained just about everything Richie did, including the way he held his towel whilst drying the dishes, ‘For god sake Richie don’t rumple up, hold it in your palm and open it up so you can get to the surface more.’ When Richie tried to joke that David’s way didn’t necessarily mean the best way, he’d yelled that Richie was an ungrateful bastard and that if he had to do it his way because the way he was doing it was useless.

Useless, that was a word Richie learned to associate with himself as whatever he did would get dragged down by David, until there was barely any Richie left. Once again Richie began getting stage fright, worse than when he was a child, and on one evening David witnessed his total bomb of a show, and told Richie he had pretended he didn’t know him to the people watching. That hit so hard, the fact that someone was disgusted to be linked to him, that he stopped writing his own comedy and hired someone to do it for him.

There was so much negativity surrounding him and David, but when Richie tried to address his problems, David would make him seem like he was the one that was crazy. Like he was seeing things that were not there. David rolled his eyes and waved off any of Richie’s attempts to defend himself, but then denied doing it after the fact.

‘You’re a loser Richie, I can’t believe you’d be so stupid to take my ribs seriously. Aren’t you supposed to be a ‘comedian’? You’d think you’d know what’s a joke and what isn’t.’

A can of coke being set down too hard on their dinner table was enough to get David off of the couch, where he’d been watching football and ordering him around, and into the kitchen, striking a tirade that Richie was ruining their furniture with his fumbling. Richie was constantly on edge that he was doing something wrong - and he was according to David -. He avoided David as much as he could, but the latter would find something to fault him on regardless. Life had transformed into a prison cell.

Later Richie would scold himself for not leaving, but how could he? David manipulated him to the point Richie truly believed he was doing all of those things wrong, to the point where he was the one crying and begging for David’s forgiveness. He was gaslighted, manipulated and blackmailed at the same time, with gifts that weren’t a one-off after Dacid crossed a line too far, and they often contained a very expensive item that Richie had eagerly awaited for a long time. Richie felt like he owed it to David to stay, if only for all the money he had spent on him.

There were days Richie would get so furious he was prepared to scream back at David, to let his anger be set free and unleashed upon the one person who deserved it, but then David would show up with a gift out of the blue, or would grant him a loving caress, and Richie was gone for him again.

Not to mention that Richie’s self-esteem had sunk so low, he wasn’t ready to face a world without having David there to guide him along with things.

Barely five months before Mike’s earth shattering phone call, Richie ran out of all mental capacity to deal with the torment a moment longer, and packed his things, disappearing on a cold blistering night. David called him, of course, but Richie was a coward, and never answered the phone.

He only sent David one text to tell him it was over, and then promptly blocked his number without waiting for a response. He heard from gossip that David spread lies about him, and told other people about how much of a terrible boyfriend he had been, but Richie never objected to the claims. He agreed with him anyway.

Mike’s call had been, for a large proportion anyway, a saving grace. Reconnecting with his best friends and destroying the thing that loomed over him for so long was liberating, and Richie viciously wished that Pennywise had come back sooner, so that his tortures road would have been that much shorter.

There was no lingering bitterness inside of Richie because of this though, not when his life was finally in the best possible place it could be. Eddie and him got their heads out of their asses, or more like Eddie got out of his and decided to yet again be the brave one out of the two of them, and they started dating almost immediately after defeating Pennywise. In only a week's time, Eddie made the move from New York to Los Angeles, and with him he had brought the happiness Richie had long forgotten he could ever possess.

His marriage with Myra had been just as much a scam as the relationship between Richie and David, and his divorce was swift - no surprise there with the way Eddie always prepared for every possible scenario-, but Eddie almost always avoided talking about it. In a way, Richie was disheartened by that.

It was no secret Eddie married a woman that was basically a mirror image of his mom, and at times Richie caught himself wondering if Eddie had realized how smothering she was or if he had been so hunkering for the normality of life as a straight, married man that he never paid her enough attention too. He wonders if he was the only one stupid enough to not realize the gravity of what was happening to him.

Richie has debated on flat out asking Eddie about it, but, and there’s always a but, that would mean he would have to tell Eddie about David, and he is overcome with a rare form of anxiety, something deeply ashamed nestling in the place where his trust is supposed to be at the mere idea.

Swearing on the holy turtle god that managed to save them from Pennywise’s claws, Richie was originally planning on confessing the whole thing to Eddie on day one of their relationship. He truly was, and he had even conjured up humorous escape alternatives to duck his way under a fire load of questions Eddie was surely about to ask him after.

He even prepared himself to tell Eddie in Derry, right after overhearing Eddie’s phone call to his wife, feeling empowered that Eddie would come to understand. Bev interrupted before he could, perhaps a blessing in disguise. Before Eddie fully put down his phone, Bev had sweeped in the room, requesting a meeting downstairs to talk. Richie had been helpless to follow and listen intently, and if he was being honest with himself – he wasn’t – he felt a tiny bit of relief that he wouldn’t be subjected to any negative attention. Until Bev started to confess how her life had been before Mike called them.

All at once, a sickening hatred from himself overwhelmed Richie. He was so angry that he had dared to feel sorry about himself, and here Bev was, with a situation that was incomparably worse. The more details Bev entrusted them with – Richie may have promised to never kill anyone again, but he an exception could be made - the more Richie’s food from a few hours before threatened to choke him, and not even Eddie’s cream smoothed hand holding his distracted him.

Near the end, after they’d progressed from such an melancholically topic and began drinking away the booze in their hotel, Richie had drawn Bev’s attention with a call of her name, to either make her smile or to assure her that she wasn’t alone, Stan send him a withering look, as if to warn him not to open his mouth. Stan’s assumption was fair, it was in Richie’s nature to find humor in places there shouldn’t be, and he had no idea about Richie’s past to think otherwise. Still, every time Richie considered telling Eddie, the look flashed in his mind and sewed his mouth shut.

Not telling Eddie hasn’t impacted things the way Richie had predicted it would. Really, Richie was doing fine. Eddie chastised Richie on certain things, but Richie didn’t freak out or experience any sort of flashback. He would be given a peck on his forehead, or a hand running through his hair, and he’d know that Eddie was never mad at him. It was the littlest details that had Richie out of his mind with love, that highlighted just how different Eddie and David were.

By now, Richie had decided he was fine with not telling Eddie anything about David, and the extra weight of keeping something a secret was his boyfriend was just another fee to carry around with him. But life always throws a curveball Richie Tozier’s way when he has finally made plans.

This curve ball comes in the form of soup. A horrendous chicken soup that Eddie cooked up two days in advance, an experiment of different herbs that clashed into a symphony of flavors all competing to be the primary flavor. There are two things to know about Eddie as a cook. Number one is that he is not an impressive cook – and it’s not for the lack of trying - but Richie doesn’t mind. Eating food that doesn’t please his taste buds but getting Eddie in return for it is a fair deal in Richie’s books.

The second thing to note is that Eddie is a lazy cook. He turns the kitchen into a battlefield of different sauces, with jars a million different pots and pans skewed across the stove and no more room to place anything else left. It’s gotten to the point that whenever Eddie is in charge of cooking, they will not even put their dinner on a plate anymore, but instead leave it in whatever it’s made in, because it eliminates dishes to wash. That’s what starts the mess that day in first place.

Richie isn’t an idiot. Yes, he can be dense at times, and when it comes to loving Eddie he’s more than a bit moronic, but he’s not stupid. He’s had to survive on his own – and with someone who didn’t lift a finger - for a long time, thus there was no other way. He’s aware of the danger of putting a metal bowl in the microwave, and how it can cause the metal to heat up and start a fire, and therefor has never been stupid enough to try it. But today, Richie is stressed.

Steve has been calling him all day to try and persuade him into doing an interview for a magazine, and no matter how many times, how loud or agitated Richie says no, Steve still insists. Richie paces annoyed towards his fridge phone locked between his shoulder and ear, so he can take out the metal bowl of soup with his hands, and place it in their microwave without a second thought.

‘Steve I don’t care how much publicity you think it will get me, I don’t want to do it,’ Richie mutters, turning around with his back towards the warming soup. The consistent arguing with Steve has his teeth grinding, his shoulders tense and his anxiety sparked.

Eddie is still out for work, but it’s closing at five pm, the time he ensures he’s at home, and Richie thinks he can hear his car driving up into the gravel parking lot. The absence of his boyfriend is about to be filled, and Steve is yapping away in his ear, not content to admit defeat just yet, it’s maddening.

‘Steve… Steve listen to me, don’t get your panties up in a twist, I have to go. Don’t book the interview. I won’t take any part in it.’ His denial doesn’t put a stop to Steve’s yapping, but at that point Richie is over his nagging. He pinches the bridge of his nose and utters; ’Okay nice chat’, and hangs up without waiting for a response back.

He lets the phone clatter on top of their kitchen surface and says that Steve got the message, if only for the rest of the day. His phone doesn’t vibrate again, leading Richie to assume he has won this round. He can’t help but lean forward so far his head rests against the cold tiles of the kitchen counter, just sighing for one long, extended breath. A night in on the couch with Eddie spooning him has never allured him so much. His back cracks with a satisfying pop as he readjusts his body, and he groans in gratifications.

Their alarm dings loudly in the open concept kitchen, a warning that someone has just entered their driveway. Richie doesn’t need to go look to know that it’s Eddie and his large, black suv, but he wants to anyway. He’s about to walk towards the front door to greet Eddie like he’s a pet that has been waiting anxiously for its owners return – and some would describe him in the same manner - when the air fills with smoke and a rancid smell. It’s barely detectable at first, nothing more but an insentient odor that is unpleasant but not resolute and easy to ignore. But then actual smoke begins to wash it’s way around Richie, and he has a split second of blissful unknowingness left, until the problem dawns on him.

Richie follows the smoke trail, and is shocked to find their microwave steaming and actually crackling, like it’s on the verge of exploding. It probably is. Still, it’s nothing compared to the cluster bomb of fumes that spread throughout the room when Richie actually opens the microwave door and gets slapped in the face with the enormity. It’s a surprise that their smoke detector has yet to erupt.

Instantly, his airways fill up smoke, prickling his cough reflection so tremendously he doubles over in extortion. The coughs rattle his body in a painful manner, his chest and back start to hurt from the brutal movements and the fact that he can’t grasp fresh air no matter how wide he opens his mouth. Objectively, Richie should understand it can get a lot worse - their smoke detector hasn’t gone off, and there are no flames to accompany the smoke and therefore turn their house into a major safety hazard - but a panic he hasn’t felt since David has shut down his logical thinking skills.

A key is slotted into their keyhole, and it turns a first time to leave. Eddie is about to open the door, in give or take in about a minute – it always drags out because despite living here for give or take two years, Eddie still can’t remember this lock unlatches via the left side and not the right – and walk in on an absolute shit show that Richie’s engendered.

So far there was indication, no sign that hinted to Richie he still had leftover, undealt trauma left from his time hanging around David, but now, his only thought revolving around how mad Eddie is going to be, how much trouble he’ll be in once Eddie sees everything, he starting to realize he might not be as over things as he originally believed.

He ignores the way his lung burn, and reaches forward to grab the pot – with fogged over glasses rendering him blind - protection less, not even grabbing the oven mitts to provide some shelter for the warmth. He can’t comprehend how dangerous that is, can only focus on the red lights blaring in his mind, telling him he needs to get rid of the evidence before Eddie gets here and unleashes hell upon him.

Unfortunately, he’s too late. A door unlocks and Eddie enters the house. His feet pad on their wooden floor, brazen and fast, like he’s been waiting for a shot at grilling Richie and he can sense his opportunity to do so has arrived – the motion is so un-Eddie Richie dismissed it as absurd then and there, but a seed of doubt remains -.

With time, Richie comes to learn how to listen to the different footsteps, and he can now recognize who’s walking towards him and in what kind of mood they find themselves in, without taking one look at the person's face.

Eddie’s footsteps, after every work day, drag across their floor, as if a thousand pound weight has been added to his back. The bottom of his shoes wear out a lot faster than Richie’s do, and it drives Eddie nuts because out of the two of them, he’s the one that treats his material objects neater than Richie.

Richie’s always delighted to notice how light his footsteps get after just a few minutes spent with him or the losers.

Now, he is too scared to pick up on such little details. His palms tingle unpleasantly, the boiling liquid burning them more with each second he hangs on. He stands in the middle of their kitchen like a fool, turning his body every which way and letting his eyes dart out an escape plan. The smoke is nowhere near gone, and there’s too much of it for Richie to open a window and it to be blown away. Eddie’s going to notice, there’s no way he can’t.

‘Richie, you won’t believe what this imbecile Josh did at work today. I swear, I don’t understand how some people can get fucking hired sometimes.’

Eddie trudges into the kitchen, his suit wrinkled from a long day of frantically working on a report that should have been finished by some other incompetent coworker. The groves in his face are more prominent today, acquired by the years of unhappiness he experienced with Myra, the ages of his life cut off by the shock of Pennywise's return and the occasional busy work day his job supplies him with.

A nausea craters in Richie's stomach, filled with guilt for turning Eddie’s night off into a stressful event that requires a ton of clean up. Eddie stops dead in his tracks when he notices the mess, his mouth slips shut, the word dying on his tongue.

He’s waiting for Eddie’s frown to deepen, for his lips to cresting into a fury. He’s waiting for the waterfall of insults that will be hurled at his head, each one meaner than the last, honing in on his deepest insecurities and having them exploited because Eddie’s so angry he’ll do anything to strike a verbal blow. And it’ll be worse now, because it’s Eddie. It’s the love of his life doing it now, the one’s approval he seeks most.

Eddie’s the person that knows him inside and out and knows exactly what boundaries to push and prod out to crack Richie open from head to toe. He waits for all that, with his hand still clamped around the bowl of burning hot soup, scorching his palms – by this point, Richie is sure there will be blisters by the time he finally unclasps his grip.

Eddie’s frown does deepen, but it’s not out of anger. ‘Rich, be careful you’ll hurt yourself.’ Richie doesn’t let go, but holds onto the sides of the bowl tighter. Part of him wants him to experience the pain, to let what he did sink in like David’s words always did.

‘Richie’, Eddie says startlingly firm. He’s not trying to approach Richie or the bowl, but he’s capturing Richie’s attention just by his firm voice. ‘Put it down.’

Richie drops the bowl of soup, watching helplessly as it splatters all over their freshly painted walls and the ground. Out of the corner of his eye a flat glob of liquid drips down the wall, dirtying a whole line down to the floor. Richie cringes, his heart beating so fast he could swear it’s about to jump out of his chest, and his mind a mantra of ‘look what you did, look what you did, look what you did.’

‘Fuck Richie, did you burn it?’

And Richie knows he’s caught. He was, up to two seconds ago, holding the evidence right in his hands, but he’s so petrified logic is not operating in his brain at the moment. The only thing he can focus on with great clarity, is that he’s willing to try anything to get him out of a verbal tear down.

‘No..’, he tapers off at the end, leaving his statement much more alike a question than he would have preferred. Eddie raises one eyebrow suspiciously, pointily averting his gaze towards the smoke floating around them.

‘No?’ He asks back equally confused, head tilted to the side. Richie can feel his throat closing up in panic, bracing himself for an onslaught. He doesn’t foresee Eddie’s nurturing and concerned approach. ‘Let me take a look at your hands’, Eddie murmurs tenderly.

It’s technically nothing new, the way Eddie treats him. After Neibolt and Richie’s big coming out, Eddie commenced all his vacation days and flew Richie all the way to Hawaii, for the pure intention of getting him away from any and all consequences. He’d allowed Richie to eat what he desired - within reason of course, there was no way Eddie was allowing Richie to eat pizza at 8 am-, waisted their days sitting by the pool and indulged in Richie unchancy pranks - one of which ended up with Eddie scrubbing out blue glitter out of his hair. Eddie had been kind then, so it shouldn’t be surprising he is in this situation.

It doesn’t take away the fear Richie is left with. David had good days too, days that he was the perfect boyfriend, but that would never last long, and Richie is left to speculate if it’ll be the same thing with Eddie.

Maybe it’ll be hidden in a secret message, maybe Eddie is busy hatching a plan that will utterly deploy Richie from the inside out. Eddie’s hands are gently skimming over Richie’s palms, inspecting the damage without irritating the skin even more. ‘It doesn’t seem like it’s bad. It hurts right?’

‘Yeah’, Richie croaks when he figures out the question isn’t rhetorical. He isn’t sure at the moment why that’s supposed to be good.

Eddie tips forward, stretching up higher so he can kiss Richie’s forehead tenderly. Against his skin he explains. ‘That means the burn isn’t too deep, but hold it under the water still.’

‘No but you know what does go deep?’

‘Nothing if you don’t treat your burns,’ Eddie teases with a smirk. He gently ushers Richie closer to their faucet, and holds his own palm under the stream of water, twiddling with the different temperature taps until he finds one that he deems just lukewarm enough to allow Richie’s hand under it.

The smoke in the air remains unspoken about. It’s almost as if Richie is more important than a potential house fire to Eddie, but that’s absurd. Not only because this is the house that both of them felt was the right one, and subsequently paid a lot of money for, but also because Richie isn’t that special. He’s not even trying to be condensing towards himself, because he truly believes that.

‘How did you manage to do this huh? Idiot.’ Eddie jokes while guiding his hand under the water at the correct angle, his salutation gets smoothed over by a hand ruffling his hair. Coincidentally, or perhaps the exact opposite, a part of the stress Richie accumulated falls away when Eddie calls him an idiot. It helps to underline why exactly Eddie will never be like David, why the two aren’t in the same league of each other even.

When Eddie says idiot, it’s a nickname, it’s a middle school jab when Richie runs too fast and trips over his own feet, it’s the symbolic soothing pat on the back he receives after he can get all of the losers to laugh at his humor. It’s their love langue no one understands, It’s Eddie’s way of hiding how deep his adoration goes with a job that’s unusual to others.

David’s condescending tone alone tipped Richie into the deep end, into a cave that echoed his deepest flaws and slammed it into the cavity in his chest every time something didn’t go according to plan. Idiot for David did not mean the same things. For David, idiot was shoving aside Richie’s concerns, it was disinterested in all his quirks and his passive attitude. He meant what he said without sarcasm.

A first tear tracks down Richie’s cheek. ‘Rich?’ Eddie inquires startled. His hand previously stroking Richie’s curls slides towards his elbow in a smooth motion.

Richie tries to tell him it’s okay, that he needs a minute to regroup but that he’s fine, but instead of that he sobs, more tears spilling over with no regards to him uneasy Richie is to cry in front of someone.

‘Richie shit I’m sorry. Does it hurt that bad? Do we need to go to a hospital? We’ll go right now.’

‘No, no hospital,’ Richie waves him off with his injured hands. Eddie leads his hand back without response, tracking his face to see if he gives away anything. Richie had forgotten his hand hurted in the first place, so he definitely didn’t require any treatment beyond what he was doing already. His tears are the result of being overwhelmed by his emotions, and his default response to that is to cry.

‘If you don’t want me to do that, that’s okay you know?’

Because his hand is incapacitated, he wipes his nose on the corner of his shirt, watching as Eddie’s wrinkles his nose at that. Still, even with the disgusting move on Richie’s part, Eddie leans in closer, molding Richie so he fits in the fold between Eddie’s neck and shoulder. There, he resumes his path of caressing Richie’s hair, and kissing his temple. Richie fists one of his hands in the back of Eddie’s shirt, pressing them as intimate as he can.

‘Hey sweetheart, it’s okay. What’s wrong?’

Richie sobs harder, not particularly keen on telling Eddie why he’s this upset. It’s a difficult topic to talk to anyone about, Eddie and the losers included. There were days that Richie twisted his mind to convince himself that it was all in his head. That David was the best boyfriend anyone could ever wish for, and that the tirades he had to endure was just the cost of that. He was afraid he added things in his mind that hadn’t actually taken place and he created his own narrative.

Apprehension held Richie back, dreading what Eddie’s response might be. He could exclaim Richie to be a complainer that should have praised himself lucky to get the abuse he got, or he could say that Richie was a sourpuss, turning a fly into an elephant.

‘Shouldn’t we get rid of the smoke first?’, Richie questions to stall.

‘Later’, Eddie soothes with another kiss to his temple. ‘Talk to me. Please Rich.’

‘There was this guy I used to date, David.’

Eddie’s head shoots up in bewilderment, his brow furrowed. ‘You never told me about him.’

‘Yeah well we never talk about your wife either and I thought that would mean we wouldn’t disclose our previous hang ups.’

‘Ex-wife. Remember Rich? She’s my ex-wife. There’s nobody in the world I would rather be with then with you.’

‘Stop it you bastard,’ Richie sniffles pathetically. ‘You know I can’t deny you anything when you sweet talk me.’

‘That’s the plan.’

Eddie thumbs underneath Richie’s eye socket, brushing in a hypnotic rhythm that ankers him to reality. If Richie nuzzles into Eddie’s palm, then no one else but then needs to know.

Talking about something that brings forth a lot of anxiety goes smoother with closed eyes, Richie’s come to find, so he does that before revealing what he should have revealed a long time ago.

‘He was.. not so kind’, he chuckles humorless. ‘He really thrived when he pointed out everything I did wrong, liked yelling too.’

‘Rich?’

‘Wait let me finish. If I don’t say it now I’ll never get the courage to again.’ He opens his eyes only to see Eddie nod in agreement, and his face starting to tang a bit red.

‘Sometimes I couldn’t even walk right without him being all up in my ass about it. At parties he would gladly tell everyone embarrassing things I did, or he would pretend like he did all the work at home while really he was the one that did nothing. And the way he spoke to me.. like I was a child and he was a teacher or something. And he had this way of saying things so I’d know I was a breath away from being yelled at, but so that he could still claim he never once raised his voice at me. I guess I was scared you were going to do the same thing after seeing what a major fuck up I am. . He kept insisting I didn’t do things good enough, but I was really trying my best. I fucking swear Eds. I can’t help that my best isn’t good enough.’

The repetitive motion that Eddie kept up during his long monologue abruptly ends, and Eddie instead balls his hands up into two fist, pulling away from Richie to lean on the counter. He bounces on his heels, unable to stand still any longer as he is now the one to squeeze his eyes shut.

‘Eddie?’ Richie implores, the panic from before quickly flooding through his bloodstream and entering every part of his body.

Eddie opens his eyes, and something on Richie’s face must give away what he’s experiencing, because he’s quick to assure Richie did nothing wrong. ‘No, shit Richie it’s not you sweetheart. I love you, you did nothing, nothing wrong.’

He pecks Richie on the lips twice, very softly and barely noticeable, almost a goad to get Richie to cram their lips together tighter. For a long moment, they don’t move. Their lips stay hovering just out of reach, and one of Eddie’s palms slide down Richie’s chest down to his belly and up again. It’s an effort for Eddie to try and generate as much love towards Richie as he possibly can, before his resolve breaks and he has to let his resentment for David out in some way.

‘I’m going to kill him.’ Eddie turns away from Richie, but his hand remains on Richie’s stomach, a connection so they don’t separate. His chest puffs up, almost like he’s gearing up to go fight David right now. He would if he got the chance.

‘Spagheddie you don’t have to do that for me. I don’t even own his number anymore.’

‘I don’t care Rich,’ Eddie’s voice trembles but is laced with a deadly amount of venom. ‘He should have never done those things to you. If I ever see him I’ll fucking strangle him with my bare hands.’

‘It’s fine Eds, it wasn’t that bad.’ The denial burns in his chest. He wondered for a long time if he could qualify what he went through as abuse, not because he was actively hoping to label himself as an abuse victim, but because he questioned if what happened to him was worth being this upset over. In conclusion, Richie decreed it wasn’t. Eddie's eyes snap up, burning behind a sheen layer of glass.

‘He never hit me like Bev’s husband did to her.’

‘That doesn’t fucking matter. What happened to Bev is terrible, but that doesn’t make what happened to you any less dire. Both of you were victims of abuse, save for a different kind.’

Are they comparable? If they were talking about another person Richie would say yes, that both leave lasting scars, but because he’s the subject of the question, he can’t say for sure. He’s not lenient enough with himself to allow such a statement to be made. Bev can suffer from the consequences of her abuse, but from Richie’s perspective, he should be over it by now.

‘Oh fuck,’ Eddie curses explicitly, ‘and I called you an idiot. Richie I’m so sorry.’

Eddie’s little crease that only appears when he’s discontent about something appears again, and he avoids eye contact with Richie. There’s no need for any of that. Richie hadn’t even taken that big of a notice about the word. He was reassured Eddie would never use it as a true insult, and even if he wasn’t convinced of that, the tender way Eddie reacts towards him otherwise would be enough to convince him.

‘No Eddie. I don’t mind, really. I don’t want things to change between us because I told you this. I like our banter.’

He finally takes his hand from under the lukewarm water stream, and dries it on his pants -the water, come Eddie’s prediction, has eased the aflame skin -. With both hands now free, Richie cuddles up closer to Eddie, using his arms to tug him closer. Eddie is still dressed in his suit from work - and it might deem handsome, but it is not very comfortable - but has not mentioned getting changed once, too enraptured with taking care of Richie.

‘They won’t if you don’t want to, but we’re making a deal. If I do something that hurts you, you need to tell me, so I can apologize and tell you I didn’t mean any of it. Are we clear?’

‘Aye aye captain. Shall we pinky promise on it?’

‘No, I’d rather kiss on it.’

They do, and this time the kiss progresses further than just a simple peck. Eddie cups Richie’s face in between his palms, a soft, sentimental smile ruining it a little. It doesn’t matter, Richie still greedily savors the moment as it comes.

‘All those times that you went on stage and rocked that whole performance I was already infinitely proud, but shit Richie, now that you’ve told me I’m even prouder. He tore you down but you spit in his face and said fuck no, I’m still going to be my own person. I’ll never let him treat you badly again. More importantly, you’ll never let him do it again. You’re so strong sweetheart.’

Richie sniffs, ‘why the hell are you still being so sappy? I told you everything already, there’s no need to spawn me further.’ He giggles, and Eddie can’t help but chuckle at the sight too, then he turns serious again.

‘Okay, now let me take care of you. I’m going to clean up, hush I am and you’re not going to lift a single finger, and then we’ll order in, watch tv from the bed and cuddle. That sounds good? We can talk about the heavy things in the morning.’ Richie has been through enough for one day.

‘That sounds perfect Eds.’

They let go of each other, but not before Eddie sneaks in a kiss on his forehead, cheek and jaw.

While dating David, Richie never used the word love. He knew, with manipulated affection and all, that he did not love David. Love isn’t supposed to change us, it’s supposed to accept us, makes us laugh and cry at appropriate times, and cocoon us in her warmth. Love doesn’t change us, but it adds something more to the previous person we were yesterday. Eddie adds something more to Richie every single day, be it by teaching him or standing by his side when he messes up. Richie loves Eddie, and he gets loved back equally as fierce.

#My writing #I'm literally begging for people to comment their opinions on my writing #reddie #reddie fic #richie and eddie #adult Richie #adult Eddie Kaspbrak #richie x eddie #reddie imagines #hurt comfort #fluffy ending #but heavy middle and beginning #eddie loves Richie #they're in love #Richie tozier #eddie kaspbrack

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samthemarvelfan · 4 years

Text

I Won’t Say: Chapter Nine

-Last Words-

Summary: Ellaria Stark is the daughter of a king. When she is unwittingly betrothed to the King of a neighboring city, she isn’t sure how to feel. More importantly, she isn’t sure how the King will feel if he finds out the truth about her.

Pairing: James Barnes x OFC, Ellaria Stark. (Stark!Reader.)

Warnings: Royal!AU, ANGST, violence, mentions of death and murder, revenge, blood, description of crimes.

A/N: I am SO sorry this took so long! I needed to feel right, and then I had life get in the way and nothing was sparking. BUT ITS HERE AND ITS A ROLLERCOASTER GUYS, GET READY.

Hours.

You had been kidnapped, exploited, and locked in a dark cell for hours. You’d stopped crying now, simply because your tears had run dry.

This is how your story was going to end; locked in a dungeon in a place you didn’t even know existed. All because of your blasted heart and your inability to ever say ‘no.’

You’d never see your parents, Morgan, Wanda, Natasha, or Steve...

or James again.

What a bitter tale this would be. To have been so close to the thing you desired most, only to have it all ripped from you in moments. James Barnes had your heart in his hands, and destroyed it in front of you.

Yet, you know in the deepest depths of your soul, your heart belongs to him still. God, you hope to make it out of here alive. You want to tell him he was wrong, and you were set up. That you could never do what he accused you of.

A silent wish crossed your lips, praying he already knew.

Your melancholy was interrupted by another bang, only this time it came from outside your window.

The glass was filthy and covered in soot, but you saw the troops loading trailers with supplies. Hundreds of men, all under Rumlow’s control. Surely they were under some kind of sp—

The thought hit you like runaway carriage.

A spell. Magic. Wanda’s Magic...

Wanda had once told you she could feel you. You knew she could read your thoughts, but she also knew when you were feeling sad or happy—or scared.

You climbed down from your perch near the window and center yourself in the room.

With closed eyes, you willed your mind to find hers. Searching within your soul to connect with Wanda and only Wanda.

My sweet friend, I need you. If you can hear me, the people of Buchanan need help, they are not safe. Rumlow will take the city when the King is gone. Wanda, you’re my only hope. Please, keep Morgan safe, but help the people if you can. My hope is lost.

“Stay on high alert, men!” Samuel shouted.

James kept lead of the soldiers, Samuel and Steve respectively to his left and right.

“We’ll find her, Buck.” Steve said lowly.

James only nodded. Fearful that if he spoke, nothing could stop the worry leaching into his words.

Your life was at stake, and it was all because of him. He’d been so blinded by grief and deceit, and now everything is crumbling around him.

“Shieldian is a fortress, your Highness. Are you certain we should have left half of our men behind?” Sam asked.

James nodded. “If Rumlow is planning what I think he’s planning, he will try to take the city in my leave. We need troops there on the ground in case of an attack, he probably has men awaiting word outside of our walls.”

“And Stark?”

Bucky chuckled slightly, “Tony may be decades my senior, but he’s always loved a good fight.”

Steve spoke next. “This is a long way to go for revenge. This was so thought out—meticulous. How long had Rumlow been planning this?”

James’ horse settled into a steady trot. “My Father killed his years ago, before I was even born. I imagine he’s heard the tales his whole life. Revenge could be second nature for someone like that.”

“Someone like that?” Steve questioned.

James nodded. “Hydralia was a cruel and unforgiving kingdom. That’s what Rumlow was raised on—hatred. His Father, their last king, was a rapist, a murderer, a thief. My father sought to put an end to it, but rather than surrender his crown, King Rumlow subjected his people to the horror and desolation of war.”

The King took a sip of his canteen and continued, “That’s why he wants me dead. An eye for an eye, he wants to erase Buchanan the way—“

In a moment of realization, he paused. “...the way we erased Hydralia...”

“Buck? What—“ Steve started.

“She’s not in Shieldian, she’s in Hydralia.” James says frantically. “He’s holding her where this all started. Ellaria is with him, she has to be, he knows she’s the only person I’d leave the city for.” James was certain.

A crinkle of parchment unfurling grabbed his attention. Sam rode closer to James an shared his map.

“Hydralia was said to be just around the Brucklin Pass,” He pointed to the small notch. “It’s not on any of our current maps because, well...we didn’t think it existed.” Samual remarked.

“You’re right, Sam. My Father kept all the maps for the last 300 years of the realm’s existence, I’ve seen it on nearly all of them. That’s where it is, that’s where we’ll find him.”

Bucky reigned his horse towards his troops, and they halted.

“Men!” He shouted, reaching the very back of the Caravan.

“What I ask of you this evening is no easy task. There will be violence and murder and bloodshed, but I will be there, along side you. Fighting for peace and for Buchanan’s future!”

The men cheered for their King.

“Rumlow, however, is mine. He’s taken something—someone which my soul cannot bear to lose. If you see the Princess, save her by any means necessary, and bring the coward to me.”

Ropes and metal dug into your wrists.

“Now, now, Princess. Don’t fight it, it will only make things worse.”

Rumlow had two men drag you from your cell, and chain you to a wooden slab. Your wrist and ankles were bound by thick rope.

“You’re wasting your time! He won’t come for me!” You shout, fighting back tears.

Rumlow chuckles darkly, before grabbing a candle from the sconce on the wall. “I sure hope he does,”

You watch as he walks around you, to a make-shift stone pyre. Without hesitation, he tosses the flame into the dark abyss and it ignites; fire raging from the pit. “Or you’re going to be very sorry.”

A sob escaped you as you watch the flames grow. The heat radiating from it is already far too warm for your liking. “Please. I am of no value to you! My death will bring you nothing.”

He charged you, pulling your hair back and stretching you further, the chains digging into your skin. “Your death will being me Barnes!” He screams.

“I will slay that bastard where he stands and avenge my Father! You think I was satisfied gutting his like a pig? Slitting his mother throat until she ran dry? No. I want every scrap of hope and happiness he has. I want him begging for death, craving it.”

Tears are burning your skin, this is the evil you’d been sheltered from you whole life. You’d known bad people existed, but never had you imagined they’d be this depraved.

“Barnes will fall on my sword willingly once he see’s what I’ve done to you.”

The sounding of a horn draws his attention. Clanking metal can be heard outside the broken glass windows in the room.

“Buchanan troops spotted at the Brucklin Pass! Men take your posts!” Someone in command shouts. You heard the panic and hurried stampede of soldiers rushing to defend themselves.

Rumlow lets out a growl as he brings his lips to your ear, whispering wickedly. “He better be here, Princess. Or your death will come much quicker than intended.”

With a quivering lip, you stay silent. Praying James is anywhere but Hydralia.

“Lead them directly through the city, no hiding, no stopping. I want every weakness of Rumlow’s exposed.” James whispered to his friend.

Steve nodded. “Are you sure about this Buck? If something happens to you, Rumlow won’t hesitate to take Buchanan. You shouldn’t be going alone.”

James secures his sword to his side, as well as his dagger for good measure. “If Rumlow sees me, Ellaria’s life is in greater danger. He’ll have no more use for her, Steve. I can’t let that happen.”

He nods, “As you wish. Stay hidden, your highness. Find Ellaria and bring her home.”

With that, they part. James seeking out the darkest alleys and river ways that weave throughout the streets.

Where would he take her? Think James, think!

The city is dark, barely any fires to be found. James thought that odd considering the time of year.

The sound of marching-in-time draws his attention around a corner. He spots what can only be described as makeshift soldiers marching towards the front of the gate.

They’ve been spotted. He thinks to himself.

“Buchanan troops have entered the city!” He hears someone shout.

More running, only this time it’s too close for the King’s comfort. James peeks down the alley and finds a dozen men heading his way.

Using the cover of darkness, he runs and rolls himself down onto the bed of the river, and hides amongst the logs and weeds.

“Where is Lord Rumlow?” One of them asks.

“With the girl. You think he’d actually come fight with us? Side by side?” Another sneered.

Disloyalty breeds disloyalty.

When the coast clears and James is sure the troops have gone, he searches, focusing on each rundown or ruined building he can see. Then, as if by fate itself, he see one in the distance, smoke rising from the roof. The only one with a fire burning as far as the eye can see...

“He’s not with them, Sir.” A soldier nervously tells Rumlow.

He reached for the boy, and shakes him by his armor. “What do you mean he’s not fucking with them?!” Rumlow shouts in his face.

The boy stutters, “H-He must have s-stayed behind, my Lord! The only ones fighting alongside the troops are Rogers and Wilson!”

He knows everything. Even the names of his most trusted friends.

The timid guard was thrown from Rumlow’s hands, “Have our troops reached Buchanan?” He asked.

“Yes, sir. They’re awaiting your orders. We have a hawk at the ready to carry your command.”

Rumlow paused for a moment, before looking you in the eyes. “Send word. Burn it to the ground. No survivors.”

“No!” You shout.

Even the young soldier seems hesitant to obey. His eyes flitting between you and the mad man standing above you.

“Go boy! Now!” Rumlow shouted. The soldier turns, scrambling out of the room.

“I warned you, Princess.” You watch as Rumlow reaches into his belt, pulling out a dagger. “You’ve proven yourself to be just what you say—useless.”

He walks to you, cutting the ropes at your ankles and wrists, undoing the chains as well. For a moment, you have hope. Maybe he’d let you go, since you’ve shown what you’re worth.

In a flash, you’re thrown to the cold stone floor, hitting it with a slap. Rumlow brandishes his knife, as he circles you like prey.

“Do you think Barnes found out the truth? The jewel of the Iron Kingdom is really the daughter of a servant, too weak and careless to even survive giving birth to you. Is that why he won’t come? Doesn’t want to get his hand any dirtier than he already has?”

You scoot back against the wall, the cold of it contrasting with the blazing fire before you. “Maybe killing you won’t do me any good. I’d probably be doing him a favor.”

The explosion of wood splintering throughout the room makes you screech.

Rumlow turns on his heel, and you shield your eyes. Unsure if what or who is here now will be friend or foe.

“Barnes.” Rumlow seethes.

In an instant, your hands fall from your eyes.

James is there, filth covered and in his battle clothes.

“Enough, Rumlow. End this now.”

He laughs, “Why? We’re just getting started. I have you whore, doesn’t she look well?”

James looks at you, a softness in his eyes you’d nearly forgotten about. “I’m sorry.” He whispers.

“Look to me, Barnes. I’m in control here, you’re in my kingdom.”

“Is that what this is about? You want power? Glory? This is no way to get it!” James shouts.

Rumlow bent down, grabbing your arm with great force, and pulling you to your feet roughly. “Power?” He shook you, causing James to step forward. “This is power, Barnes!”

James stepped again, and Rumlow pointed his blade at him. “What I want is revenge.”

He pulls his blade back, holding the razor sharp edge of the dagger at your throat. “I want you to lose everything.”

“Don’t!” James shouts.

Rumlow’s putrid breath is in your ear as he begins to move the blade, stroking it over the soft skin below your jaw.

“Does it scare you, Barnes?” He seethed. You wimpier under his touch, far too frightened to actually move or speak.

He plants a disgusting kiss on your cheek, and you see James begin to tremble; not with fear, but rage.

“To be so helpless...weak. To have what you love most in front of you, and not get to choose if they live or die?”

“Leave her be, she’s nothing to do with this.” James croaked.

“No, she doesn’t. After all, what good is the daughter of a servant?”

You feel your heart plummet to the depths of your gut. This is it, surely not even James would want you now.

“Did you hear what I said Barnes? Your whore is the daughter of someone who cleaned up shit for a living. How does that feel? Knowing what she’s worth?”

Rumlow’s grasp on your hair grew tighter, keeping your neck exposed.

“I know her worth, Rumlow...” James spoke, reaching slowly for the hilt of his sword.

“She’s priceless.”

Before Rumlow could respond, James twisted his sword upward, slicing through the meat of his hand. He screamed, dropping both you and the dagger.

You scrambled to your knees as you watched the two men brawl. Rumlow wasn’t nearly as skilled as James was with a blade, in fact when he drew his, he nearly dropped it.

“Ellaria, run!” James shouts as their swords clash.

Your instincts tell you to listen, to get away, far away. Yet you don’t move, you’re frozen in place.

I can’t leave you. Not again.

Rumlow uses the distraction to his advantage, causing the King’s sword to fall. He kicks James’ chest in, and his knees buckle from the blow.

“You can fight, I’ll give you that.” Rumlow coughs, wiping blood from his lip.

He grabs James’ collar, and brings him toward the still roaring fire. “You’ll burn, just like Buchanan.”

The King is fighting, with everything he has, but Rumlow is stronger. He drags James’ body to the pit, holding his face above the flames. “Any last words?”

A brief pause, and he looks to you. “I love you.”

Then, using Rumlow’s momentum against him, James kicks off the stone side of the pyre, flipping himself behind his assailant.

He slams his boot behind Rumlow’s knee, and he collapses. In seconds, James has two hands near his neck. He jerks them suddenly, and Rumlow falls to the floor with a low crack.

You’re not sure what happens next, but the last thing are his cerulean eyes fading into blackness.

Taglist: @iheartsebastianstan @jjlizz @stuckysbabe @sk493494 @lefoutoir @nickangel13 @marvelismysafezone @lilulo-12 @warmvanillafeels @star-spangled-beard-burn @ravenesque @pinknerdpanda @wintersoldierissucharide @snapcapquartet @ellen-reincarnated1967 @unlistedpond @my-drowning-in-time @supernaturalwintersoldier @kimvmarvel @roseboho @winterboobear11 @choicesloversstuff @disaffectedbarnes @igothroughphasesalot (strikethrough means the tag didn’t work! I’m sorry!)

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes angst #Bucky Barnes AU #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fic

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