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#I can't picture Steve saying though
alexjcrowley · 7 days ago
The first episode of Loki was great, but can we reshoot the whole thing so that when Loki mocks Captain America, Steve turns around and goes "Identity theft is not a joke, Loki!" in an unintentional impression of Dwight from The Office?
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(Also the edit is shitty sorry-)
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now i'm stuck thinking about what a good (or at least better) ending it would have been if, after thanos gets dusted, and because they just killed thanos before he ever did the snap in the first place, and because we've now been told there can only be one "sacred timeline" i.e. there can't be one timeline where the snap happened in 2018 and another where thanos vanished in 2014, reality just..... changes so that the snap never happened at all
tony snaps his fingers. the screen goes white. he's sitting in his basement lab at the cabin, unhurt, and rushes upstairs to find pepper and morgan at the kitchen table. pepper remembers nothing about the snap. someone knocks on the door, and it's peter parker -- visibly 5 years older -- bringing donuts, ruffling morgans hair, "hey mr. stark! i brought boston cream"
steve is at home. he immediately calls bucky, then sam. neither of them remember the snap either. he calls natasha, and holy shit she picks up, she remembers everything up until her death on vormir, but she's alive. like it never happened. team cap gets together and they tell sam and bucky everything. they realize that killing younger thanos must have changed the past. they call bruce to ask hey wtf happened, i thought you said that wasn't a thing, but his phone's out of service for some reason?
bruce is in space. on the statesman. apparently it takes more than five years for a ship that big to make it across several galaxies, because he asks the first asgardian he sees "hey how long have we been in space" and they laugh and smack him on the back hard enough to bruise and say "you midgardians with your jokes, you know it's been five earth years" and he's like holy shit holy shit holy shit and goes searching for thor. he finds him in a hallway already hugging the stuffing out of heimdall, who is taking it in stride, and through blubbering tears thor's like "bruce! what happened to changing the past doesn't change the future!" and bruce a little manic is like "IT WAS JUST A THEORY MAN it's not like i had a lot of experience with time travel!" and thor hugs him too, and while the three of them are loudly discussing this in the hallway (and heimdall reassures them that, yes, natasha's alive, and yes, all the other original avengers are going through the same confusion these two are) a nearby door glows green and slams open and loki's like EXCUSE ME but SOME OF US are trying to SLEEP so if you WOULDN'T MIND-- and thor tackles him in a hug, crying again, and loki's like. i don't. i don't know what's happening. he looks over thor's shoulder at heimdall and bruce, who just shrug, and loki deflates and gives in and hugs his dumb crying brother even though he has no fucking clue what he's crying about. bonus points for "i'm right here, you idiot. didn't i say i wasn't leaving again?"
scott lang's at home, in the living room with cassie, and there's pictures on the mantle of the two of them together over the last five years, scott at her middle school graduation, scott and hope with her on a trip to a theme park when she was 14, and cassie's like? dad? are you okay? and he's like yeah :') yeah i'm great peanut :')
we start to hear upbeat 80's music. cut to the benatar, where rocket's suddenly surrounded by noise and the guardians bumping around each other in a familiar chaotic mess. none of them remember anything, except for nebula (and yeah we're gonna have to nix the younger nebula getting killed because that makes me too sad) and... wait, gamora's not here. shit, did resetting the timeline not bring gamora back? and he and nebula realize gamora was taken out of the timeline in 2014. she's never met the guardians, not yet, but she's out there somewhere, probably on earth, probably very confused since she was the only part of the opposing army that wasn't dusted before the timeline reset. and rocket's like "hey quill new mission we gotta go find nebula's sister" and peter's like "another nebula? yeah that sounds uh. terrifying" and they're like... yeah don't worry about it, you'll like her
AND queue guardians 3 a.k.a. the gang reunites with gamora (except rocket's the only one she doesn't know who already knows her), the falcon and the winter soldier except Steve's There In Retirement This Time, wandavision a.k.a. wanda and vision go on a nice non-trauma-fueled vacation, and thor 4: more thor where loki and heimdall and the rest of the asgardians who made it after ragnarok are still alive. the end :)
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thecoolestpersonever · 10 days ago
Only hurts a little
Paring - None
Request? - Yes
TWs - Not eating/starvation, losing weight, mentions of death (its a heavy one boys, be careful <3 /srs)
Prompt - Food can't stay down if everything takes like bologna
"Pony! Dinner!"
Darry called from the kitchen. A familiar dread formed in his stomach at the mention. Pony sighed.
"I'm not hungry!"
There was a pause, and for a second he let the hope that Darry would drop it fill his mind.
"Just come down!"
The pit formed more, as he dragged himself off his spot in bed. Slowly, he trudged down the stairs, and into his chair. They had assigned seats so no one fought, even though the chart never truly worked. A plate was pushed in his direction.
"There, eat up."
The plate was given a stare. It was a normal occurring dinner, chicken mashed potatoes and green beans. Usually it was one of Pony's favorites, but it looked so, unappealing.
It's not like Darry is a bad cook, he's far from it, but he had no appetite. Just the thought of eating made him nauseous. A sigh came from across the table.
"Pony, you gotta eat."
"I said I wasn't hungry. I'll be fine."
He was lying of course. The cramps in his stomach were getting worse, but he could deal with it.
"I said I'm fine Dar!"
There was a pause. Pony didn't yell often, especially outside of him and Darry fighting. He took a breath.
"I'll just eat later, okay?"
He pushed himself out of his spot, and ran upstairs. The older greaser just watched in concern.
It had been a couple more days, and the gang was over. It wasn't the normal, but it was something at least. Soda and Steve were playing poker, Two-bit was drinking in front of the TV, and Darry was reading the paper. It was their normal routine. Although Two-bit was drinking more. Then usual, at least.
"Hey, Pone, you okay?"
He turned away from the TV, which was playing Mickey Mouse.
"Yeah? Why wouldn't I be?"
"You look awful pale. And you look, smaller."
Pony almost let out a sigh, but his breath hitched. He hadn't really thought of what it could do to him, it didn't even come to mind. All that he new of was that he got real dizzy sometimes.
"I'm fine, Two."
Two-bit seemed to hesitate.
"Are you sure? I haven't seen you eat recently, its worrin' me."
Pony didn't know how to respond. He was stunned silent.
"Yeah, actually. You haven't eaten dinner in days, kiddo."
Darry added. His eyes had a sense of sadness, as well as worry. Pony stayed silent once again.
"When was the last time you even ate??"
That was the line. He was scared sick, what would he say? How would he even explain it?
"Uh, a-almost a week."
A layer of concern hung in the air. Soda looked like he was going to cry.
"A week??"
Soda shouted. His voice cracked a bit. Pony nodded a bit.
"No appetite."
He said bluntly. His voice was steady, even though the water in his eyes was threatening to spill over.
"Pony you haven't eaten in a week! I'm sure it's more then that."
A silence formed, before Pony's tears started to fall.
"I can't, eat. E-Everything just makes me nauseous. All I can picture is, m-me and Johnny in the church eating bologna."
If it was possible for Soda's heart to sink even farther, it would've happened.
"Aw Pone, I'm so sorry."
"'ts fine."
Pony mumbled. He wanted a hug badly, everything just felt like it was breaking again. It seemed like Soda read his mind, cause he stood up, and pulled the boy up too, before hugging him.
Almost immediately, he buried his head into his brother's shoulder. The tears seemed to fall faster, as Pony sobbed. Soda rubbed his back a bit.
"I know it's hard Pone. . .but you gotta eat."
The boy nodded a bit, before mumbling a quick "I know."
Soda buried his head into Pony's hair.
"I love you. So you gotta take care of yourself."
Pony just hugged him tighter.
"I'm sorry Soda."
"Hey, it's okay, we just gotta help ya get better alright?"
He nodded. It wasn't gonna change over night, or even possibly in months. But, maybe, things will get better.
(Here! I hope you like it, and I hope I did it justice. I've struggled with eating, but never to this extent, so if I did it wrong feedback is appreciated <3 /srs)
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cathrrrine · 12 days ago
RUN | Pietro x Reader
Originally from my Wattpad
"Wanda, talk to me!"
Pietro was trying his hardest to not cry, especially not in front of his teammates. His sister lay still on the gurney, which was being rolled to the O.R by two doctors and a nurse.
It was evident he was going to be left with no reply as the doors locked. The image of his sister bleeding out onto the grass was glued onto the back of his mind. Every time he thought about it again, it made him want to punch a wall. Or just lie down and forget about everything.
"Pietro, calm down." It was Clint. He recognised the archer's voice even without looking up. "She's going to be fine."
"She shot her."
"I know-"
"That woman shot my sister." He was seething. His heart was filled with hatred for his now-enemy. All potential positive thoughts he had for her before were long forgotten. The only image he had of her now was when she pulled the trigger as she aimed at his twin.
"She's locked up. Tony's got it under control."
Pietro heard him, but the only thing going through his head was how he was going to murder her.
"Lisa, am I right?" The blond soldier crossed his arms, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips pursed.
I saw right through him. He was putting up an act that he was obviously tired of. I wanted so badly to get out, I would do anything for it to be possible. In this case, it was playing coy.
"Yes, Captain." I smirked. "Is that what you prefer to be called?"
"I ask the questions here."
"Sure, you do." I shrugged. "Or maybe you think that's what everyone expects of you."
I could see the shift in his body language and the anticipation reflecting in his eyes. He was intrigued in what I was trying to say.
"You know..." I started, standing up in my cell to walk towards him. "You might be big and strong on the outside. But on the inside, everyone knows you're just the same old weak and puny Steve Rogers."
His spine straightened, obviously affected by what I had said. I didn't care about him liking me right now, all I could think about was how my life was in danger and I needed to fix that.
"Guess what, Captain?" I emphasised his title once more. "Nobody buys your act."
He paused for a moment, and I could see a flicker of uncertainty in his blue eyes. I couldn't help but feel a little bit of regret. He looked so hurt by what I said. Or maybe he was trying to fight back a comment?
I wondered if I was just imagining it, just lying to myself that what I said actually got to him. But something in his facial expression told me otherwise. I guess I underestimated how good I was at playing this game.
"I buy it." A voice called out from the distance. I was a little bit startled, surprisingly. Of course we weren't alone.
"Oh, do you now?" I tried to figure out where the voice came from.
Through the glass, I could make out a sea of red hair. It wasn't until the owner of the voice took a few steps closer that I could make out her eyes, lips and nose. I've seen her multiple times throughout my lifetime, and even though I've seen her in pictures, there was no device on this planet that could capture the sangfroid in her posture, or her aura of solidity. I was moved when our eyes met.
"You...know me." Her eyebrows furrowed. I guess I gave it away.
I wasn't sure if I should answer her. Hell, I didn't even know what to say. "I do."
"I can't say I'm surprised."
"Huh," I scoffed. "Of course you can't. You're a class A threat to anyone you consider an enemy."
"And are you?"
"What? Am I what?"
"Someone I should consider to be an enemy."
I was thrown by that question. Why was she asking that question? I thought me being locked up already proved the fact that I wasn't exactly on their side.
I dared to look into her eyes again, and I was met by the same fire she walked into the room with.
"I know how it is, Y/N. This life you're leading, this isn't something you chose. It was forced upon you." There wasn't an ounce of pity in her words. She was just simply telling me what she thought was my truth.
"I'm not...I'm not Y/N." They knew my real name?
"Then who are you?"
I shook my head, trying to gather my thoughts. Is this what she was trying to do all along? To distract me from my original plan to escape? I barely paid attention to my handcuffs the whole time we were talking.
So, I turned my back to her and shut up.
He sighed, taking her hand in his carefully. "Wanda, you're awake."
"Well, duh, idiot."
He chuckled, barely annoyed by what he would usually roll his eyes at.
"What happened?"
"You got shot in the shoulder by the bitch of a woman. We managed to capture her and she's in one of the cells now. I think they're in the middle of questioning her."
Wanda's forehead started to crinkle. "Ugh." Pietro leaned forward, ready to tend to his sister's every need. "I screwed up, didn't I?"
"What? No. You did fine." He wasn't expecting that.
"I wasn't strong enough! She got through and I'm the reason why I got shot. This is my own fault."
"Wanda, it wasn't that you weren't strong enough. Believe me, you are." Pietro squeezed her hand in assurance. "Sometimes shit happens."
"Then explain this!" Wanda gestured to her shoulder. "Like it or not, this is by my own hand. I wasn't powerful enough."
Pietro couldn't believe his ears. Why was his sister blaming herself for what that villian did to her?
"Wanda, I knew you were stupid but I didn't know you were this stupid." Wanda rolled her eyes at him, yanking her hand away from his.
"No, listen to me." Pietro urged, "She pulled the trigger even though it was supposed to be impossible, so that isn't your fault. We underestimated how powerful she was, and that's on us. I should've seen it coming."
Wanda smiled, comforted by her brother's attempt to ease her worries. But she still had her insecurities and issues with herself.
"I've seen you kill hundreds of thousands of robots in Sokovia. I've seen you defend yourself against multiple enemies. I wouldn't doubt your strength for a second." Pietro needed her to believe him. "So, why should you?"
The two of them looked at each other. No one understood them better than the other did. It was always the two of them against the world, and now even more so—if not for the other Avengers.
"I love you, idiot."
"Now shut up and go to sleep."
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mandoalorian · 17 days ago
okay this may be asking too much. But can u explain to me wonder woman 1984? I saw half of it like a week ago and i saw the other half yesterday. I was paying attention yesterday but when i saw the first half a week ago i wasn't bc i was reading a fic at the same time lol. I don't have HBO max so i don't have a way to watch it. From what I understood i can say that i liked it and i can't wait to devour more max lord fics. Also what did Alistair wished for like in the middle of the movie? (When he was with max in his office) i didn't hear that part. Since i saw it on HBO i couldn't like pause and rewind. And there was also people talking around me so it was a hard movie to see. Idk when I'll see it again if i even do. But yeah. If u answer this thank you so much.
I came to u bc u KNOW that movie. I mean u legit saw it in theaters last week right? So yeah. Have a nice day 💛
Alistair is about to say “I just wish you were here daddy” (because he’s never around) when Max cuts him off and chastises him. He tells him “no, you do not wish for something you already have. You wish for greatness and success.” and then Alistair, selflessly says “then I wish for your greatness.” Alistair knows how much success means to his father and hence wishing for that. Maxwell is in so much disbelief that his son used his one wish that way, he thanks him and says “I love you so much” 🥺
Explaining WW84
Listen. I’ve seen that damned movie more times than I’d care to admit 😂 of course I’ll explain it. I’ll start at the beginning (or roughly around the beginning) since you said you weren’t paying attention.
A mall jewellery store is used as a front to sell black market goods such as jewels and artefacts. Amongst these goods is a ‘dreamstone’ which can grant wishes to those who touch it. Barbara Minerva, a geologist at the Smithsonian museum, and Diana Prince, an anthropologist, get their hands on the dreamstone. Barbara identifies it as cheap citrine and they laugh off the idea that the stone can actually grant wishes though. However, in the moment, Diana wishes for her dead boyfriend, Steve, to come back to her. He does, of course, during a gala held by the Smithsonian. After Barbara is constantly harassed and ignored, she wishes to be like Diana. Her words: “strong, sexy, special”. Obviously she doesn’t realise that wishing to be like Diana is going not going to be all that it seems...
THEN, our beloved Max Lord enters the picture. He’s been searching for this stone for a LONG time, and he believes that it can bring him the success he so desperately craves. After manipulating Barbara and swindling the stone from her at the gala, he wishes to BECOME IT. From that point on, the wish granting powers live in him. After this, Max begins his hunt for more oil in order to try and restore his failing business. He travels to Eygpt to reclaim oil land from the King, but in the process, he causes absolute chaos and destruction. Diana and Steve are there to witness it all and Diana even comes close to confronting him, where he tells her that he’s become the stone.
Whilst Barbara, Diana and Steve are trying to work out the stone’s origins and purpose, Max is back in America causing chaos everywhere he goes. He even goes to the White House and meets with the president, manipulating him into giving Max full authority and presidential powers. At this point, the world has entered a meltdown, specially between the US and Soviet Russia (since the movie is set during the Cold War). And Max is mostly to blame.
Max is getting increasingly sick with every wish he grants, because the idea is that the stone takes something from you with every wish you grant. So he gets sicker and sicker until eventually, he’s on deaths door. Diana and Steve once again confront Max, this time at the White House, but before they can stop him, Barbara, who is now VERY powerful due to wishing to be like Diana, intervenes and defends Max. Possibly because she’s crushing on him, and/or because she believes that he’s one of the only people who understand her. Max runs away and gets onto a helicopter. Barbara fights Diana and Steve, and wins, as Diana is losing her powers at the cost of wishing for Steve to come back.
Diana is getting weak and both she and Steve know that she cannot save the world so long as she keeps her wish. She must renounce her wish and give up Steve in order to stop Max and Barbara. So, reluctantly, and realising she has no other choice, she gives up Steve in a heartbreaking scene and continues pursing Max and Barbara who are now on a secret government island. Max has full access to broadcasting satellites and uses this to his advantage. He communicates to the entire world by taking over their TVs and asks them to make a wish. And so they do. Max is like a walking zombie at this point so he finally takes the world’s “health and life force,” from them, thus restoring his health. He also gives Barbara “all the strength and prowess”, turning her into Cheetah.
Diana confronts Barbara who is now fully transformed Cheetah outside and after an emotional fight, Diana begs Barbara to renounce her wish. Barbara refuses and so Diana apologises and knocks her unconscious before leaving her some place safe to go after Max. Diana can’t reach Maxwell from where he is and she’s pushed into a corner feeling helpless. Until, she throws her lasso of truth over Maxwell’s ankle and uses it to speak to the world, encouraging them to be the hero and renounce their wishes. Max thinks she’s speaking to him and asks why would he do that? But Diana tells him that she wasn’t taking to him, and she finally encourages Maxwell to see the truth.
Maxwell is confronted with the memories of his childhood that he’s repressed: his abusive father, poverty, bullying, etc. He then sees Alistair, who is alone and looking up at the nukes which are flying over the sky. Max is distraught and finally can see the chaos he’s created and he knows he MUST save Alistair. He realises his son is the most important thing to him, and that he doesn’t need success or fame or power or money, so long as he has his son. So, he renounces his wish, and the rest of the world follows, and reunites with Alistair, promising him that he’ll become a better father and begging for his sons forgiveness. Alistair smiles and reassures his dad that it’s okay, and that he loves him unconditionally.
NOW, it would’ve taken me a long time to explain a 2hr 30min movie to you. SO I hope this summary is alright and detailed enough. If you have any questions about any of the characters, or any aspects of the plot, or any scenes, FEEL free to message me! My knowledge on this movie is embarrassingly extensive but it is one of my all time favourites and I absolutely adore talking about it :) <3
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Stephen Pearcy { Relationship A-Z}
Warning(s): I mean its a bit NSFW?
A/N: I hope you like it.
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A - Affection (how do they show affection)
Stephen is all about touchy affection, like holding your hands, having you sit in his lap, having an arm on the swell of your back, kisses etc.
B - Balance (how do they balance you, work/school/life?)
Surprisingly, he does pretty well. always making time for you, Sure Ratt and his career come first, but you are pretty much right up beside it. He'll shoot you a phone call, even during his busiest touring times just to hear your voice and make sure you're doing well. If something bad were to happen to you, Stephen would drop everything to make sure you're okay.
C - Cuddles (do they enjoy cuddling? what positions?)
He just likes to touch you, literally anywhere, so naturally cuddling is a yes. His favourite kind of 'cuddling' is spooning. (What did you expect it's Stephen)
D - Date (what was your first date?)
For sure a complete mess, Stephen is not exactly known for long-term relationships, but he was trying to have one with you. So you can imagine he took you out for dinner somewhere nice but kept getting hit on by random women who knew who he was and his reputation.
He doesn't act on the advances, he's trying to get into a relationship with you so he's trying to impress you and treat you right. Of course, you feel jealous as hell, especially considering his reputation, and you are completely miserable, and regret agreeing to this.
Of course, Stephen sees this and doesn't want to lose you so he begs you to give him a second chance. It's the first time he's ever begged a girl to give him a second chance and also the first time a date didn't end in sex for him, but he's willing to wait because you're special to him. You agree and the rest is history.
E - Excited (how excited do they get when they see you/are with you?)
After a long period? Let's say a tour, extremely happy and horny, he decides to stay faithful for probably the first time in his life and he has a huge sex drive so you can only imagine. You don't mind though because you could use a good railing yourself.
F - Fighting (what happens when you fight)
Your fights aren't intense, they are more like the silent treatment. You know something is wrong or someone is pissed off if the talking and sex stop.
G - Gorgeous (pet names. what do they like to call you? what do they like to be called?)
Stephen calls you kitten, because it's both sexy and cute, just like you. 🖤 You call him Sep, literally just to annoy him, and because you refuse to call him "Steve" as a nickname. You also call him slut, but in an affectionate way.
H - Hi (first time meeting)
You meet Stephen at a party you went to. You fully intended to leave alone, because as much as you loved Rock n Roll, you found most of the musicians you met only wanted a one-night stand and that wasn't your thing.
You were chatting with an old friend from high school Robbin, who you knew was in this band called Ratt. You liked Ratt quite a bit and were talking to him about it when his singer Stephen Pearcy walked up.
Even though he originally came over to talk to Robbin, you felt his eyes on you. You tried to ignore it, you didn't want to give him the idea you were at all interested because you weren't, but then he turned to you, his stunning brown eyes locking with yours and said. "I'm Stephen Pearcy, how do you know Robbin?"
"I'm Y/N, he's an old high school friend. I already know, you're his singer. It's not that impressive." You decided to cut to the chase, it doesn't impress you. The number of rock stars who have come up to you and said that like I was supposed to impress and make your panty drop was too many for your liking.
The only problem is, that impressed him, something about you not just bending to his will turned him on, so for the rest of the night, he bothered you till you agreed to a date.
I - Interaction (what others think of your relationship when they see you two)
At first, most people are shocked Stephen committed to one woman. They pretty much figure he'll fuck up somehow and mess it up, so at first, they don't bother getting to know you at all. Once they realize he isn't getting rid of you, they accept you and think you too are the best.
Your family hates him. They think he's not good because his womanizer/rock star's way will only break your heart. Even after years of being together, they never fully accept him.
J - Jealousy (do they get jealous? how do they react to you being jealous)
Yes. Stephen gets jealous. He's very good at hiding it, but he gets jealous, especially when you constantly talk about another guy, who isn't a known friend or family member. He never says anything though, you just realize the sex gets rough and he leaves more hickies in viable places. You get jealous naturally because of course women are always throwing themselves at him, but you always remember at the end of the night he comes home with you and the feeling disappears.
K - Kisses (where do they like to kiss you/how often?)
Everywhere. He likes to kiss you EVERYWHERE. Like I said Stephen is all about physical touching and showing affection through it. He'll kiss you on the neck, cheek, lips, forehead, stomach, inner thigh, really anywhere. You will often be entangled in a make-out session, it's all about the kissing baby.
L - Love (when was the first time they said I love you or realized it?)
It takes a while, it's not something that happens like a week into your relationship it takes months. Even though Stephen never viewed you as a one-night stand, it's a first for him and it freaked him out a bit. He didn't want to say anything prematurely because he didn't want to break your heart if he was wrong. It was similar with you, you hadn't been in a relationship long enough for that to be said, nor had you ever felt this strongly about someone.
The first time Stephen says I love you is after a long tour. You hadn't seen each other in a few months, only talking over the phone and you missed each other. You practically ran into his arms, and let out a sigh of relief when you were finally in his arms. That was the moment you realized you loved him, you didn't say anything because you didn't want to make him run, but you didn't have to. Without thinking he just let it fall out, "I love you so much." You don't freak out, you just smile and say "I love you too."
M - Moving in (when do you decide to move in together)
It takes about a year of being together. You move into Stephen's place of course because he has a WAY nicer and bigger place. Not to mention you practically live there already anyway, and that's basically why you move in together. It wasn't a big deal it just happened and you were both happy with it.
N - Newborn (their reaction to starting a family)
Having children was never a part of your or Stephen's plan. You never said you didn't want them but it wasn't a requirement either. Stephen never really saw himself as a dad, but once you get pregnant (somehow) he's happy about it and goes into a full dad mood. In short, he is happy to be a father and happy to do it with you. 💜
O - Open (how open you are with one another) very open. Of course, it takes time to build up to that because you know Stephen is very fun-loving so I don't feel like he'd open up to you about his problems but once he does there is nothing you don't tell each other.
P - Photos (what kind of photos you take of them/they take of you) Naked pictures. What else? We're talking Stephen here, he for sure has a whole ass album dedicated to NSFW pics of you. Of course, you take similar pictures, but also a lot of him on stage, because come on it's hot and a nice keepsake.
Quiet (what they do when you’re unusually quiet/vice versa)
I feel like it would be hard to be quiet ever around Stephen like regardless of what's going on with you, he'll get you talking. Like I said he's a fun-loving guy and he'll do whatever to cheer you up. As for Stephen, unless he's in the middle of writing a song, he's not exactly quiet, so he would have to be dead basically.
R - Recovery (how they/you help them after an injury)
Stephen goes into a full ass protection mode. He hates seeing you in pain because he's been through it and he doesn't like the idea of you going through it. He's the type of person who makes you feel better by trying to cheer you up. He'll watch your favourite movies, or read you your favourite book and try and make you laugh. Also, he stays by your side day and night till you're all better. Now trying to look after Stephen is impossible. He spent like three months in the hospital as a teen, and he doesn't take any injuries too seriously unless he's dying. You'd have to fight him to get him to the hospital and fight him to make him rest. It's a struggle but eventually, he folds because you are stubborn and won't give up.
S - Solution (how they resolve fights)
He straight-up seduces you. You might get all hot and bothered and then have sex, after that you'll talk it over calmly. It's hard to stay mad at Stephen, he's a charming fucker.
T- Touch (when they need/want your touch, what will they do? how often?)
ANYTHING. Dude Stephen is a sex maniac, he'll do anything. Also, he can always talk you into it with a charming smile and some flirting. You love it though and find it flattering he always wants you.
U - Up ( waking up with them)
Waking up with Stephen is an experience. If he wakes up first he'll wake you up by playing with your tits, or touching or kissing you. Yeah basically he wants a morning bang and you're okay with that because so do you.
V - Vacation (where they travel with you)
He'll take you out on tour with him. You'll stay for a few weeks because you have a job and can't stay for months, but you have an amazing time. You love watching him every night, you join them during the Japanese leg, So you take day trips and explore things.
W - Wedding (how they propose/where you get married/honeymoon)
Okay first off it takes Stephen YEARS to decide he should marry you. You're okay with this because marriage was never something that mattered to you, and really who needs marriage to be happy with someone forever. Eventually, though Stephen decides to take the plunge, he figures even if you said no it wouldn't be a big deal and you'd just resume your lives as is. Yeah, it's not really in a romantic way more like a proposition. "What if we get married? We don't have to, it's just an idea." You agree because it can't hurt right? Your wedding is more of a party than an actual wedding, you don't want to make a big deal you just want to get married and celebrate it. Since it's not a convention wedding you skip a honeymoon, you've already seen most of the world together anyways.
X - X-factor (what about you captivated them?)
At first, it was of course your sex appeal. He thought you were hot, but what kept him coming back was your no-bullshit willingness to do anything personality. Also that you are stubborn and basically wouldn't give up on your relationship.
Y - Yawning (how they act when they’re tired)
Pretends he's not, but it's clear he is so you have to coax him to admit it and sleep.
Z - Zzzz (how you fall asleep together)
Well first off post-sex most night, cuddled up against each other his arms around you.
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kickingn-ames · a month ago
A missing feeling
pairing: Bucky Barnes x GN!Reader
a/n: i'm so in love w this man idk why i didn't write for him sooner. This is also me trying to find comfort lmfoa. It's rather a personal experience. This is for everybody feeling this way, i know i'm not the only one and it's ok to feel like this, stay safe and know that you are valid and deserve help. and if you need somebody to talk to about this or anything that's been bothering you, my messages are open💙💙
And thank you to the loving @emmastarz for teaching me how to make dividers 💙🤧
summary: A missing feeling can't always be replaced by something good. Bucky is willing to help you find the good to replace the bad with.
w/c: 2.6k
warnings: mental health issues, insecurities/fears, eating disorder, mention(s) of calories, hints of self-harm, talks of therapy
my m.list
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This isn’t foreign. It isn’t a new feeling, or emotion. More like, missing. It feels like you had a sense of control. There aren’t a lot of things you can control, things in your own hand. But this is one of those you had the chance to control. It isn’t really a good thing, but it brought you happiness, a sense of calm, knowing you reached the limit and didn’t feel empty.
You also don’t do it because you wanted to, willingly. It feels like you just got dragged back into this negative habit. Some may say it’s an addiction to count and count and want to see the numbers everyday. Some others tell you at least you’re trying. “As long as you don’t lose your goal,” they tell you. As if you didn’t lose it a long time ago.
You stare down at your phone in hand, its light the only thing illuminating your dark room. You’re laying in your bed, covers long shoved away and only sitting there in your big sweater and shorts. The sweater swallows you whole, not really letting you see your body.
Another negative trait.
Your therapist had told you about this. “A part of recovery is accepting your body,” she said to you. It’s carved its way into your brain, you remember her words everytime you walk past a mirror. Which is, again, why you avoid doing so. The baggy clothes help you hide, hide the fact that you’re changing again. And although that is a good thing, your mind won’t let you think so. Or more like, the disorder won’t. Your mind was already past the first step of recovery: accepting your disorder, knowing and wanting to get help. It wasn’t an easy step and took you a long time to go through, but with the help of your amazing and loving friends, it passed quickly.
Accepting your body when you’re fighting against a mental illness that takes over your whole life, mind and body, such as an eating disorder, isn’t the easiest thing to do. The disorder revolves around doing the exact opposite, so how is this supposed to be easy? How are you supposed to tell your mind to do a full 180 and forget what it learned in the past three years and listen to what your therapist and friends tell you?
And then there are the numbers and food. At first, this doesn’t make sense. Numbers and food aren’t supposed to come and be together. They are two completely different things. Food, to fuel you and for you to enjoy. And the numbers. There for you to fall down a deep, deep dark and hate filled hole. Which takes you back to the screen of your phone staring back at you.
Three numbers aligned next to each other, black on white. Different pictures of food below the different numbers, some marked with the word “free”, some showing you a lock on the picture, meaning you’d have to unlock the content and pay for it. This also isn’t new. The app, the numbers, the joy and euphoria filling your brain when you went another day hiding it.
Bucky told you to delete this app off your phone weeks ago. You had promised him to do so after he warned you and told you he’d do it, but you just needed some time. And he trusted you and gave you a kiss on the cheeks, reminding you of how beautiful you are and that he’s always there to remind you of it and to let you vent. For you to turn to him instead of the numbers when you needed a sense of control and just to talk. He had even asked if you were interested in finding a mutual interest, which you had turned down with a wave of your hand and a convincing enough smile. And now here you are, still on that same damn app and trying to hide your body from yourself.
This isn’t what they call recovery. This isn’t what your therapist encouraged you to do.
Your phone blinked with a message after it locked again, snapping you out your lost mind and drawing your eyes back to it. You unlock it and read the message.
Nat 🕸
We ordered your favorite.
u coming down?
A shaky breath leaves your lips and you turn the phone around. How are you supposed to hide the fact that you lied to your friends in front of your friends? You knew this would be coming, but you hoped they’d at least wait a little longer until they invited you to eat together. Although Bruce suggested eating together, talking about it being “therapeutic, helpful and making you forget about the numbers for the moment.” And he is right. It does make you forget about them when eating with the people you love, but it’s the pain and anger that hits you after leaving your friends that makes you doubt everything you take in. And it hurts. So, so much.
There’s a knock on the door, silent. You almost don’t hear it, too lost in your thoughts and fears. You get up slowly and lift yourself off your bed, this motion alone almost taking up all energy in you. You step to the door and grab the door handle, breathing in and getting ready to answer whatever question would be thrown at you. But to your luck, only Bucky is standing in front of it, beaming and two small bottles of orange juice in his hand.
“Hey,” he whispers. You reply with a tired smile. He pulls you into a soft hug, holding himself back from wincing when he sees the state your room is in. You had definitely been laying in bed all weekend. And he doesn’t blame you. If he only had been through half the things you have been going through for years, he’d be laying in bed and trying to relax too. You invite him in as you pull back and step to the side, closing the door behind him and turning on the lights in your room. He makes a mental note to help you clean the next day and walks to your bed, throwing himself in and patting the empty space next to him. You go and sit next to him. He pulls you in and draps an arm over your shoulder, bringing you closer to his strong form and letting you rest your head on his shoulder. You relax and let out a sigh, closing your eyes.
All you want to do right now is just sleep. Close your eyes and sleep, sleep, sleep.
Everything is happening so fast. Questions, hours of listening to and meeting professionals, hours of needing to be checked by doctors and weeks of your friends not leaving your side. They are all worried about you and you know it, you just wish they’d give you a minute to relax and breathe. And it seems like Bucky is the only one to know how to react. Hell, he literally escaped and hid for years because everything was too much and he didn’t want to be recognized. He makes you calm down, relax and just lets you breathe and think, even though he’s in the same room as you.
“What are you thinking about?” he whispers into the comfortable silence. You stir, moving your head a little only enough to look straight ahead of you and at the door. “Not much, I guess,” you mutter. He nods.
“Have you- have you done it?” He looks down at your face, noticing the frown. “Deleting the app,” he quickly adds. You start chewing on your bottom lip and lift your head off his shoulder, now directly looking at him.
“No,” You shake your head and clench your jaw. He notices your distress and takes your hand in his, softly drawing circles with his thumb on it. He wants to know why.
“I’m just,” you sigh, “it’s happening so fast, you know? I just need time, Bucky. Everyone expects me to instantly go all happy and accepting but it takes so much of me to even get up, knowing you all think I’m doing great.” you explain. Mentally, everything is so draining. Even talking about it with him makes you tired.
“Is there something that happened?” he asks. You shake your head, no.
“It’s like something is missing, you know?” You lean your head back on his shoulder. “I miss this feeling of being able to control what I take. I know it’s bad, but it’s not foreign. It isn’t new. I’m scared of trying new things. What if I fail? What if I turn something good into something bad?”
“What- what if this is the only thing I got control over? It makes me feel comfortable for some reason. All I’m asking for is time and a new thing I can trade this for, but I’m scared.” you explain. Bucky turns his head, lowering it and planting a kiss on your head.
“Look, I know I don’t entirely understand what you’re going through. I’ve never counted…” “calories?” He nods. “Yeah, that. I never did that. But I know what it feels like to think you have no control over your own life. I know why you turn to this instead of searching for something better. It feels easy and brings you joy,” he stops and glances at you, eyes full of worry. You nod, your eyes still fixed ahead of you and not him.
“See? It’s all about it feeling easy. and it brings you joy. We can find something else. When I used to-” he stops himself. Maybe right now, this is a little too much for you. “Uh, when I also did things, Steve asked me to go to this library and start reading. They had a cat and it always came up to me when I entered the library.” He smiles at the thought.
“And so I found joy going there and it distracted me from the bad thoughts. I now have two bookshelves filled with books in my room.” he completes.
“Is that also why you got Alpine?” you ask jokingly. He chuckles, his vibrating chest making you bite your bottom lip and smirk.
“Yes, that’s also why I got the cat.” You nod and hide back in your thoughts. This is going to be difficult, you know that. Hiding longer won’t bring you closer to your goal either. You have friends who support you, and the chance to get a therapist.
So why not do it? You already started getting better. It’s your mind that pulls you back and doesn’t let you go. It’s like this disorder got hands, grabbing after you when you’re about to slip from its fingers and pulling you back to its bad goal, because it knows you’d come back.
But you don’t want this anymore.
It’s exhausting. Grabbing your phone, logging in whatever drink or food entered past your lips and waiting to see the app calculate and see what number it is today. Because you know it’s going to be disappointing anyways, even if that euphoria and excitement is there for a second, it’s going to leave you again and let you worry on your own. It’s comforting, but not forever. It shouldn’t be comforting anyways, and you know that.
“Are you listening?” You flinch and lift your head. “I asked you if you want to go to the library with me tomorrow?” You hum, still not entirely listening to your boyfriend. And he notices.
“Y/N, what’s wrong? I know that face,” he notes. You groan and turn to him. He raises his hand, placing his thumb under your chin and making you look up at him. He’s got a soft and worried look in his eyes.
“I don't know what, really.” You shake your head and free your body from his hold. A sigh leaves your lips and you drop your head down again.
“I already told you everything’s going so fast and I- I don’t understand what’s happening half of the time. I get these really energetic bursts of energy where I feel like running through Tony’s yard and still feel happy. And then suddenly I feel like the whole world’s watching and judging me,” you explain.
“And then again, some days I get really motivated and want to recover. I really do, Bucky. I really-,” your voice cracks at the end of your sentence as your eyes fill with tears. Talking about it feels good, but it’s hard. “I’m trying so hard and then there’s days where I download the app, count, and I just want to isolate myself and be anyone but me,”
“And today’s one of those days?” he asks softly. You nod.
“Not only today. It’s been like this for weeks now, but these past three days have been so difficult going through.” Another silence fills your room, only Bucky’s breathing could be heard and your own heartbeat in your ears. You’re happy and thankful for Bucky for not judging you or being disappointed in you for lying to him these past days. Your mind was already taking the role of doing so and it was tiring.
“Do you want me to tell Bruce? He can tell your therapist and the-” You cut him off with a shake of your head and shuffle closer to him, wrapping your own arm around him and finding comfort on his broad chest. He relaxes into your touch and wraps his arms around you, lowering his head, chin resting on your head after placing a kiss on it.
“I just want to stay here, with you. We can talk about this later.”
Bucky knows better than to push you and make you uncomfortable to the point where you feel forced to talk about this longer. So he chooses to nod and hold you closer to him, savouring the moment. He loves moments like these with you, just hanging around together.
“Ok, but you promise me one thing,” he starts. You hum, encouraging him to go on. “You’ll come to me the next time you feel like this.” You’re about to argue when he warns you.
“And no, you’ll not argue. I want the best for you. Please, I want to help as much as I can,” he lets you know.
“You’re already helping me by being with me. This right now? Having you with me is better than therapy,” you joke, but his face stays stern and demanding as you raise your head to glance at him. You groan and roll your eyes. “Ok, I promise. But I promise I’ll try. I can’t guarantee it, but I’ll try my best,” you say. He frowns and thinks for a second. He’d get the truth out of you anyways. Bucky knows lying to him wasn’t easy for you.
“Okay, but now,” He raises your head again, eyes darting down to your lips and wetting his own. “Now I want to spend time with my love,” he whispers as he dips his head down, capturing your lips in a slow and intimate kiss. You smile into the kiss and feel him smirk. A breathy chuckle leaves his mouth as you seperate your lips from his, leaning your head against his chest.
“Can we watch a movie?”
“What? Not again!” You smile and nod eagerly. “Of course again! It makes me happy,” you reason and get ready to lift yourself from the bed. He takes your hand and pulls you back into his lap. “Let me get everything ready. You stay here and wait,” he tells you as he gets up. You smile and peck his lips before he gets up, a grin plastered on his face.
“You’re like a big baby when I kiss you,” you tease him.
“What? Am I not allowed to be happy when the person I love loves me too?” he protests, earning another eye roll from you.
“Yeah, yeah. Go get the movie, I want to cuddle!” He laughs and leaves the room, not before sending you an air kiss.
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@bi-lmg @fandomxreaders @aayaissaa
bucky barnes
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3leni · a month ago
lethal pleasure
summary—a year ago, you, natasha, tony, bruce and wanda became witnesses to a possible hydra assassination. before the man died in front of you, he had urged you all to continue his incomplete search for evidence that would incriminate the suspects who were all above suspicion. during the past year, your searches have had to overcome obstacles such as the charming and all too handsome hitman of one of the suspects; bucky barnes. what happens when three of you are finally held hostage, and months’ worth of tension between you and him is finally snapped? [modern au, meaning none of the characters are billionaires or have powers!]
pairing—modern!hitman!bucky barnes x f!reader
word count—2.5k
warnings—smut, unresolved sexual tension, hitman bucky, mentions of bruises and violence, cuffs (rope), gun play, stay-quiet-so-they-dont-hear trope, hostage situation, mentions of bombs and past attempted murders. let me know if i missed anything!
author's note—this is heavily inspired by the plot of an old greek television series that i grew up with, so if you're greek, i think you already know which one i'm talking about !! if not, no worries, you don't have to watch the series to understand any of this. enjoy and reblog if you liked it!
masterlist / my inbox / ao3 / gif credit
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“As long as you’re down here, you’ll behave. If you want this to work out for you, because it’s of no importance to me to shoot a bullet straight through your heads right now and get this over with, understood?”
He looms over the three of you threateningly, his aura all the more alluring to you. The lethal handgun is grasped on his palm, pointed at the wall behind your heads. A warning, a demonstration of the power he holds over you.
Yet, considering your circumstances, you—nor the rest of your friends—can find yourselves to feel an ounce of fear. Only excitement and sweet, addictive adrenaline rushes through your veins with every thump of your heart. You lock eyes with Natasha, whose poor nose and upper lip are tinted purple from the force of the hit she endured earlier due to said gun, which—hilariously enough—makes her nose look like an eggplant.
It pulls a snort from your throat, your eyes drifting away from your friend’s poor looking nose to the hitman you’ve grown accustomed to by now. The five of you—Natasha, Tony, Bruce, Wanda and you—are used to the game of cat and mouse that was ignited over a year ago, when you were still all strangers and coincidentally became witnesses to a murder possibly committed by Hydra—the steel-eyed hitman now a sight you’ve grown quite familiar with over the months.
He never seems to wear anything other than black, the dark suit complimenting him in every way imaginable. His slicked back hair shakes with every angered move of his head as his eyes come to lock with yours the second he had uttered the empty threat.
Batting your eyelashes, you look up at him sheepishly, lacing your voice with rich sweetness, “Even me?”
You are feigning innocence, and every soul in the room can tell. Tony is snickering beside you, and Natasha is nodding her head as if seconding your words, trying to contain her snorts. Yet, everything else is tuned out as you focus on his hands—particularly the one holding the gun, as you notice his fingers twitching and jaw tightening, his frustration with you more than visible.
His eyes haven't left yours, and the air in the room is growing thicker, your past interactions getting to his head. Always teasing him, even during the most dire of situations, and he despises the fact that you're growing on him.
You're his enemy, a member of the ragtag group that has plagued his thoughts for the past year, always sticking their noses in places they’re not supposed to, messing with his and his boss’s life trying to dig up that and other older cases. Civilians, for Christ’s sake—a couple of civilians are messing up his otherwise perfectly smooth job. Over time, it had become personal. And now, you're making him act on impulse yet again.
He distinctively remembers that dreadful night in the abandoned warehouse a few months ago, his partner behind him setting up the delicate bomb that would blow his five recurring headaches to bits—and you, bound and tied and utterly helpless in front of him, his gun tilting your chin upward. You had spit on him, and your taunting words plagued his thoughts in the most confusing of ways until he discovered you were all still somehow alive;
What are going to do, big guy? Kill me?
And now, here you are again, as the cruel game of fate has you, bound and tied and helpless beneath him once more in a basement, the same irritating taunting nature crawling easily underneath his skin. Only now, his partner is on the line—how in Hell the remaining members of your group had managed to catch and incapacitate him is lost on Bucky, but still—he can't act the way he so desperately wants. Blowing the brains off of the three of you is no longer an option. Not yet, at least.
(Your sulking and despair are almost solidifying, Bucky fucking Barnes pacing in front you three confidently, phone brought up to his ear. You watch as he communicates the demands of Bruce and Wanda’s surrender with the three of you held hostage, and you can almost pinpoint the exact second his expression plummets.
A tiny hopeful smile creeps up your lips at the sight of your captor’s sudden apprehension, and you observe him as he unsurely extends his arm, bringing the phone in front of him and putting it on speaker.
“Guys—can they hear me?—can you hear me?” Comes Wanda’s voice, high-pitched and humorous. Neither of you three have opened your mouths to respond as quickly before.
“Can you hear me?” Bruce speaks after some shuffling on the other end of the line, and the unanimous response is the same, if not louder.
“Great, now listen to someone else!”
You’re all stunned and confused for a few moments, even Bucky, before an almost familiar voice rings out from the phone’s speakers.
“Bucky?” It sounds nervous, almost hesitant.
All color is drained from the hitman’s face, his eyes wide and mouth hanging open, staring at the phone screen as if it’ll grow legs.
Tony is the first to speak up, “Who’s Steve?”
“The tall guy—his partner!” Is Wanda’s almost ecstatic response, and you can almost picture her wide smile, even though you’re lost on why your friends and your captor’s partner are together, and why your friends sound like they have the upper hand.
Natasha breaks her silence, worried, “Did he capture you?”
Wanda and Bruce’s laughing fit has never sounded better to your ears, “We captured him!”
And at that moment, with Barnes’ face looking as pale as a corpse and his plans of disposing your five bodies in a ditch ruined, you turn to look at Natasha and Tony, who simultaneously join you in one of the most belly-aching, cheek straining and happiest laughs you’ve ever had in your life; still strapped down by a rope, now with your mentalities fully shifted.)
All three pairs of eyes are on him, because apparently, while lost in his train of thought, he had moved to tower over you; ever so intimidating. The hold he has on the gun is so tight the knuckles of his flesh hand holding it are turning ivory, his hand guiding the barrel of the weapon so that it is hovering right beneath your jaw. Tilting your head upwards harshly, a sense of Deja Vu overtakes you both, as he has your eyes locked on him and the baited breaths entering your lungs accelerating in pace; your chest heaving.
“Best to let me worry about your fate.” His tone is harsh, loud, as his eyes drift to the others, frustrated but not surprised that the glint in their eyes has yet to disappear. He looks down at you again; gun underneath your jaw, your lips pulled in a loop-sided smirk; it's infuriating.
Right then and there, you suddenly regret the teasing, just for a split second before he has moved to the back of the chair you're strapped in, his hands working expertly to loosen the bonds trying you to the chair. Your face has suddenly lost its natural color, and you can feel cold sweat gathering at your temples. Your friends are objecting loudly in the background, telling him that hurting you will be reciprocated with double the force from Bruce and Wanda to his partner; an empty threat if you know one—you love them, but between the five of you, they’ve always been on the softer side—yet you hope it gets through to him.
Still, he doesn't stop his ministrations. He hauls you roughly to your feet by your shoulders the second the rope that held you against the uncomfortable plastic chair is unfastened; his iron-like grip on your skin surely bound to leave marks.
As he manhandles you out of the claustrophobic basement—much to your dismay and your friends’ loud protests—he turns you to face him after he successfully locks the door; separating you from the ones you love—for the time being, you hope.
Your eyes have lost their playful glint, apprehension coating every pore of your face—and he can tell. He seems satisfied, you notice, that for once your mouth is finally shut. It was fun when you knew he wouldn't attempt hurting you, but now you can't be sure.
Abruptly, his hands have found your shoulders and he's pushing you against the wall of the stairwell, all protest dying on your lips. His eyes are full of fiery anger as he leans in, his breath fanning your face, your irises widening comically.
“What happened?” His voice is laced with layers upon layers of fake concern, the roles completely reversed. “Cat got your tongue, sugar?”
It’s fake, it’s taunting and condescending, and you hate that you have mixed feelings about it.
You want to reply, say something to make him shut up, make him tie you back in the basement where you can gain strength from your friends, but all words have died at your throat—you can only stare at him.
He leans in more, his cheek brushing yours as every breath enters your lungs as if you've run a marathon. His eyes are lidded, staring up and down your face, his lips pulled into a taunting smirk. “’Bout damn time.”
You haven’t even be able to process his words before his lips are on yours, kissing you with fervor—charged with months’ worth of tension.
What is happening?
You hate to reciprocate it, mainly because he’s tried to murder you more than once, but reciprocate it you do.
It’s all teeth and pent up anger, pearly whites taking your bottom lip between them and tugging; the action causing you to let out a loud sigh in his mouth—you’re not entirely sure whether you want Tony and Natasha to think he’s hurting you rather than what’s actually occuring. The former, most probably.
His large body is caging you in, engulfing you whole as his kisses trail from your mouth to your jaw and neck, trailing his teeth over your flushed skin after every lick; he’s teasing—and you love it.
Damn him.
Your hands are still tied by the rope that is irritating the skin of your wrists, further annoying you from the awkward position he’s put you in. You squirm, trying to get his attention, and after a few moments of wiggling against him you succeed.
He breaks the harsh kiss abruptly, his breath fanning your face once more as he stares at you intensely, and with a nod of his head he encourages you to talk. Taking a deep breath, you whisper against his lips, “Don’t you think we can lose the rope?”
He chuckles loudly, as if you’ve just said a hilarious joke; you frown. “Awe, sweet girl, that's half the fun.” His voice is rough on the edges, more of a growl than a whisper, and it causes your body to tremble against his.
“What was that? Do you like it? I bet you do, sugar—been dreaming ’bout this for ages.”
His knee almost shyly separates your legs and slides between them, coming in contact with where you're most sensitive. It pulls an embarassing whimper from your lips when he pushes upward against your clit, the action accompanied by the feeling of your jeans against the nerves akin to sin. His kisses don’t stop, his hands still pinning your upper body against the empty wall of the staircase, the contrast of his heated body with the cold wall making your head swirl.
His next move makes you brain short-circuit; he pulls away, still stimulating your clothed clit with his knee, his rubbing having your eyes lidded. You can only watch as he takes out his gun from its holster stored on the inside of his suit, the sight of the weapon making your eyes snap open, your breath hitching.
He instantly senses your sudden fear, and so he quickly raises his eyebrows to point at the weapon as he holds it at a distance by his side, making quick work on removing the bullets that fall on the ground one by one accompanied with loud clanking, and pressing the safety; an overkill, but he wants you to feel safe—as foreign the sentiment may be.
As soon as he feels your shoulders relax, his lips are on yours again and his knee has resumed its ministrations. It pulls a breathy sigh from your lips, his mouth swallowing any sound that comes from you. Slowly, he removes his knee from between your legs, chuckling at the effect he has on you when you softly whine; like a child denied its lollipop. His metal fingers quickly open the bottons of your pants, dragging them down to rest underneath your knees for easier access.
The gun, still grasped in his palm, moves towards your clothed cunt, resting right on the wet spot of your poor underwear. As soon as you feel the cold barrel separating your lips with your panties still on—the friction of the cloth only adding to it—your mouth opens in a wide O, your brows furrowing as you lock eyes with Bucky, your expression akin to begging; similar to all those over the top pornstars you've made fun of.
He laughs deeply, the laugh morphing into a low growl as he connects your lips again in a frenzy of tongues; the barrel of the gun now rubbing small and soft circles on your clit, and you want to scream. Because this is wrong, it's dirty, and your friends might actually cut you off if they knew—well, not cut you off completely, you all love each other too much, but you can imagine the disappointed and angry looks already.
He already has you bucking against his hand—well, gun—when he suddenly stops and pulls away completely. Your expression is fully confused, but that confusion melts when you see him kneeling before you.
A sight for sore eyes. Bucky, the lethal hitman that's been chasing you all for a year, a rough and dishonourable man, on his knees for you. The sight alone makes you keen.
The gun now travels upwards to rest against your heaving collarbones, the barrel close to the juncture of your neck. The stripe he licks over your clothed mound has you gasping, and you swiftly close your mouth afterwards in fear of being heard.
Bucky is resting his smirking lips against your clothed clit now, his cheek on the inside of your thighs, his five o'clock shadow scratching your skin in the best of ways. He chuckles at your responses, and nods towards the locked basement door a few feet to your left with a smile like the situation is amusing him; probably is, you think.
“Gotta be quiet now doll, wouldn't want your friends knowing the enemy is ’bout to eat your pussy, would we?”
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softsebnbuckystan · a month ago
Soul ties - Part 6 (Bucky Barnes au)
"Hold, hold on, hold onto me
'Cause I'm a little unsteady"
Word count : 2061
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Sleep didn't seem to come to you that night, and you didn't know whether the reason was the pizza you'd had for dinner, your husband's obvious neglect or your supposed soulmate sleeping in the same building. After tossing and turning in your bed for over three hours, you grabbed a pillow and a plaid, put on your slippers and went into the main kitchen. A herbal tea under the stars should  be a good way to help you sleep, right? You tried to stay as silent as you  could despite the boiling water in the kettle – you always refused to microwave water – and picked some chamomile infusion Wanda had chosen. With your cup in one  hand, you opened the picture window. One thing you liked about the compound was the few balconies it had : they weren't too big, but they were large enough for you to sit on a pillow and look at the stars, your back against the wall. You were once again trying to spot constellations,  the August sky being perfect for this kind of exercise.
"Can't sleep?"
You almost spilled your tea on your plaid.
"Sorry I scared you."
You smiled weakly at the man who'd just joined you. "It's fine. Wanna sit here with a fellow insomniac?"
Bucky ran a hand through his hair before sitting on your left. His right arm brushed against your exposed skin and you tried to hide your shivers.
"What's keeping you up?" You ask. "I mean,  you obviously don't have to tell me."
"Nothing much. Some nightmares."
"Are they ones about...about the war?"  Your question startled him ; he shot you a  confused look as you lowered yours. "Sorry. Steve told me a few times about his best friend Bucky and I... I made the connection."
"I thought Steve avoided talking about those things."
"What? The way he lost you?"
"Sorry, that was tactless."
"Don't worry about that." He looked at the sky, leaning his head against the wall. "Wanna tell me what's keeping you up?"
"Well, it's quite ridiculous really," you eluded.
"Steve told me why you're spending time here. Is it him that keeps you up at night?"
You sipped on your tea for a few seconds. "I guess so. It's just that I keep thinking about what I'm doing wrong, you know? I must be doing something wrong."
You heard him take a breath, his shoulders raising with his chest. His arm against yours felt strange, in a good kind of way. You'd never felt so close to anyone in such a short amount  of time, and you wondered what made him so special aside from the meaningful tattoo you shared.
"I don't think you're to blame. Can I be honest?"
"I'm sorry if I seem out of place, because we only met a week ago but..."
"You feel like I get you, right? Just  like I feel that you get me."
He nodded calmly. "He doesn't seem to realise who he was lucky enough to marry."
"Lucky, huh?"
You looked at him with a smile and had it not been so dark, you could've sworn a red tint had reached his cheeks. "You're hella smart," he explained. "And from what I've seen, you're kind."
"And you think that after two days with me?"
He shrugged and allowed himself a quiet laugh. "You let Sam get the last piece of pizza earlier. I would have never done that."
"True. That is my most selfless act ever." Jumping on his joke felt natural and as it turned out, he had a communicative laugh.
"Why  don't you laugh more often? I like it."
Bucky looked you  in the eyes, paralysing you with his blue pupils again. It seemed as if he was searching for what to say.
"There aren't a lot of things that make me laugh. You do, though."  This one didn't sound like a joke, and you placed your hand on his forearm, instantly sending a funny feeling down to your stomach.
"Consider me flattered," you said. "Can I ask you a question? Don't feel like you're forced to answer, though."
"I'm just curious, working in biochem and stuff... I'm basically the school nurse for theses guys," you explained. "So how does it feel, the metal arm? Do you...feel things the way you do with your right arm?"
He stopped for a moment. "I did not expect that question. That's a good surprise." He raised his left hand in front of him. "It's weird, actually. This one is really advanced. Shuri did an amazing job with it, but... sometimes I'll touch something and think I feel something. I know it's my brain playing tricks on me, but it's not that sentient. I feel pressure, tension...but not actual human sensations." He let his hand fall down on his knees.
"Do you miss it?"
"I got used to it. But yeah."
"Okay, close your eyes."
"Do you trust me?"
"Y/n, we met last week."
"I know! But like, it's not a 'do you trust me with your life' situation. Think of it as 'do you trust me with basic skills' kind of thing." You chuckled. "Now close your eyes."
Bucky gave in and you gently grabbed his metal hand. "What do you feel now?" you asked,  stroking the back of his hand.
"I know there's something on my hand. And I know it's harmless. But...nothing more, I'm sorry."
"Don't be. It's part of you."
"And you don't mind that?"
"Why would I?" you shrugged. "It's you."
"Even if I were to do this?" He slowly raised his hand, approaching your face. You let him place his hand on your cheek. It didn't feel like flesh and bone, but it still felt right.
"Yes, even then." You held up his gaze, searching those blue eyes for any sign. Signs of what exactly, you didn't know yet. All you wanted was to stare into them forever, never leave this state of mind.
When Bucky's hand fell down your shoulder and kept running down your arm,  a thousand shivers ran down your spine. You couldn't – shouldn't – feel this way. You were married now, and doing this... To prevent  you from doing anything stupid, you looked away and leaned back against the wall. Getting away from him still was out of your league, though ; you settled for resting your head on his shoulder and spread your plaid over both your bodies. It might've been because nights were fresh, even in August, but it was mostly to make sure you were as close to him as you could be. Before falling asleep, the last thing you felt was Bucky's head letting itself fall on top of yours.
"Hey, you need to wake up."
The morning sun made you blink and you felt something on your thigh. Lowering your gaze, you noticed Bucky's hand. You tried not to freak out and looked up at whoever had spoken : Steve. Bucky shifted next to you, woken up by Steve's words  as well.
"What's going on?" you asked. Steve might have been the best at hiding concern, he couldn't always hide it from you.
He sighed. "Darren's here."
"Shit." You got up more abruptly than you should've, causing you to lean on Steve's shoulder for a second. "Where is he?"
"Right here."
You turned around, seeing Darren standing in the doorframe. Well, that was unfortunate. You thought you should've been feeling some sort of guilt after being found in another man's arms – technically ; all you felt was anger. You were angry that he'd showed up after standing you  up last night, you were angry about the neglect and his overall lack of care.
"What are you doing here?" you asked sharply.
"Bringing you home. Why didn't you come back?" His arms were crossed over his chest and he shot Bucky a furious look. "And why were you sleeping outside with this guy?"
Rubbing your forehead, you gestured towards Steve and Bucky.  "Could you guys leave us a minute, please?"
Even though Steve nodded and walked back inside, Bucky seemed unsure about  leaving you alone with your husband. You gave him a brief smile and he took the hint.  As you closed the door behind him to have some privacy – the door was made of glass, but oh well –, Darren started pacing.
"Did you cheat on me last night?"
"What the hell?" You  couldn't believe your ears. "You're kidding, right? You stood. Me. Up. You didn't even bother telling me in advance that you'd go at Brad's, and you didn't even come home. Didn't you think I was tired of being alone every night?"
"You're never alone."
"Damn it, Darren,  you came home past dinner every day since we got married! We should be on our honeymoon right now, and yet you don't even bother kissing me goodnight."
"That's all this is about? I work a little too much and you go away to your so-called family?" He'd stopped pacing and raised an eyebrow, proud of his innuendo. His insinuating Steve and the gang weren't your family made your blood boil.
"So-called? So-called, Darren? I love these people. They are my family and they've been more present for me today than you have in a week. What did you expect? That I would happily ask to be invited at Brad's, when I clearly am not welcome there?"
"You are welcome, what the hell are you talking about?"
"They don't like me, and you know that very well." You looked at the ground. You might've been angry, but never being able to fit in within Darren's social circle had always hurt you.
"Maybe you're not trying hard enough."
No words came out of your mouth. How could you say anything to that? This was the ultimate insult. You had given so much to this relationship that you'd never even thought that 'not trying hard enough' could've been  the reason they  disliked you. First dinner with them, Brad's wife had made fun of what was left of your Sokovian accent, asking Darren if he wanted you to help you get a green card. Of course you'd called her out on her racism. She got upset, but was it your fault? No. During a night out, Brad had been too handsy with you and when telling Darren about it, he'd told you that you were reading too into it, that he was just being friendly. They weren't good people, and you'd always wondered why Darren bothered hanging out with them.
"That's it, go away." You let out an exasperated sigh, opening the door. "You're going to leave the compound to go home and calm down. Maybe I'll be back in a few days."
"I'm not going anywhere without you." That could've sounded romantic. In his mouth, it sounded more like a threat.
"Hell yeah, you are. Now go. My birthday is in three days, and I don't want you to be like this then."
"Right, your birthday. Don't count on me to celebrate it if you don't bother coming home."
You closed your eyes for a moment before gesturing him to leave. He ultimately walked through the glass door and you saw him make eye-contact with Wanda on his way out. You knew she was trying hard not to throw him against a wall or something. You ran your hand through your hair, taking in what had just occurred. You knew Darren would feel better the next day and that it would be like nothing ever happened. You just weren't sure anymore whether it was a good thing or not.
"Don't worry, you can stay here longer," you heard Steve say.
"You're better off with us anyway," Wanda told you.
"You know he's-"
"Please, don't defend him," your sister pleaded. "He's not treating you right and you know it. He hasn't for years. Why are you-"
"Wanda, please. Not here."
You looked at Bucky out of the corner of your eye ; you didn't want to have that conversation in front of him, for some reason. Maybe deep down, you knew he'd side with Wanda. Having your sister call you out was hard enough ; you didn't need your soulmate to start doing it as well.
--- I just finished part 9 so I'm posting part 6 because I can't wait to have your opinion on this one!! Don't forget you can message me anytime to be added to the tag list :)
Tag list :
@ginger-swag-rapunzel @joscelyn02
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gravegroves · 2 months ago
1, 4, 12 and 14! (Sorry I'm greedy and also sorry I'm not spelling them out, I'm on mobile and can't remember all four!)
1. In Closets, Under Beds (In the Dark, In Our Heads):
The Harringrove AU that I have written so much for and not even scratched the surface of the plot, yet. Take x-files and replace aliens with monsters and surrealist horror and Mulder/Scully with Harringrove and you have this fic.
The Pit is exactly that. A pit.
Steve doesn’t tell Billy much, not that there’s much for him to say. Embellishments won’t do much to paint a picture of exactly what Steve is about to show him. As he suspected, the sight itself is enough to render Billy tense and casting disbelieving eyes into the void that is the back of The Archive.
It is… huge. He thinks. At least the parts of it he can see paints a picture of an unending void. The edge of the pit is an unnaturally straight line, cutting across the room and falling down into a chasm of pure black.
The Pit, Steve thinks, wouldn’t feel so goddamn unnatural if it wasn’t so out of place. The way the shelves all run flush with the edge, perfectly lined up. It’s like someone had taken a giant cookie cutter and simply removed a gigantic piece of the room.
“I can’t see the other side.” Billy says, quietly. Wonderously. Fearfully.
“Yeah.” It's something Steve doesn’t like to think about if he can help it. It stirs within him that same queasy feeling he gets when he thinks about infinity for too long, but there’s a certain feeling of satisfaction in knowing that Billy feels just as unnerved by this as he does..
He seems to shake it off momentarily.
“Great place to hide a body.” Billy waggles his eyebrows and Steve rolls his eyes even though he's certain the pit contains far more horrible things than that.
Billy turns back and stares into The Pit once more. The smile slowly slips from his face. 
Billy doesn’t look back at him. Instead, he takes a small step forward and Steve has to fight himself from jerking out a hand to stop him. He’s already on edge, being where they are. There’s something off about looking into the dark for too long. It gives Steve the creeps, partly because it’s an endless chasm where there should be secrets and paperwork, but mostly…
Mostly it’s because of the voice.
Quiet and unnerving — like a creak in the middle of the night that makes you hold your breath, waiting, praying you won’t hear it again because that might mean something — the voice hisses like a pressure valve unscrewed in the back of his mind and tells him to take a closer look.
It doesn’t belong to him and that's the part that scares Steve more than anything.
Now that he thinks about it...
Steve grabs Billy’s arm gently, but he may as well have slapped him across the face for how his partner jumps in surprise. Billy looks back at him in alarm, then back into the darkness. Steve follows his gaze.
Solid black.
It’s the sort of vertigo that makes you feel like a hand is gently, but insistently pushing you forward despite the fact that you’re standing still. One day, if he’s bored or stupid enough, he’ll come down here with a spirit level to see if there isn’t actually a bit of a tilt. An encouragement to go over the edge. 
“We should go.” Billy says, and Steve couldn’t agree more.
4. Mindflayer Neil:
The continuation of the mindflayer Neil fic I posted not too long ago. (If anyone wants a snippet they can go read that one!) Harringrove on the side.
12. Babysitting:
Also a continuation, in this case of the 'Billy babysitting Holly Wheeler' long post. (If anyone wants to read a snippet of that they can go find that one too). Background Harringrove, but more focused on Billy trying to be better.
14. Balls to the Wall:
Okay, this is the infamous Harringrove glory hole fic I was talking about that made people go apeshit. Literally a challenge for myself to see how dirty I can write a fic. Gonna hold off on a snippet from this one for now hahahh.
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howdoyousleep3 · 2 months ago
Miss K, pls... hear me out 🥺🙏🏼 ... That pic u reblogged with Chris Evans in that Orange shirt with pistachio pants? Senator Steve on vacation. That's it. Mind blank, no thoughts 🥵 Also can I ask, does Senator Steve also have tattoos like Chris does? 👀 cause im a thirsty bitch over, anyways.... I can't imagine Bucky's reaction to seeing Senator Steve with regular clothes instead of the classy suits hahah
Oh my GOD, honey! Yes! YES! Yes.
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This is 100% Senator Rogers on vacation or at a conference or convention in a tropical place. Goddamn am I hot for that idea. Shiiiiiit. Mind blank, you’re so right wow.
I say yes— Senator Daddy has some tats. I’m not sure what they are right now but I’ve always pictured one on his chest somewhere. I know I’ve written him naked before and haven’t mentioned tags though, so...I should have thought of this earlier, haha. I’ll see how I can work it in in the updates.
Speaking of the updates! Bucky gets to see him in casual clothes in them. 🤤🥴 Yesssssss, yum yum yummmmm. Bucky’s insides go all warm and fuzzy and mushy looking at the Senator in suits but in casual clothes?? Lordy lordy. 💕
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ladyfallonavenger · 2 months ago
Just Like Dad
Bucky x Reader
Word count: 2.4k
Warnings: Grief, angst, fluff, smut, single parenting, child trauma, some abusive behaviour and sexual harassment, loss and reunions.
Summary: The Reader loses Bucky in the snap and life presents a whole new challenge.
Prompt: That's not how this works! That's not how any of this works!
This is not beta read. All mistakes are my own. This is part of a challenge too. Please feel free to like, reblog and/or comment. Also I'm thinking of doing a second part, your input would be welcome on this. I hope you enjoy it.
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Writhing underneath him while clutching at the cool cotton sheets, Y/N repeated his name like a mantra. His pelvis consistently ricocheting as he brought her closer to climax. His lips latched onto her neck moving across her collar bone and marking her with each ministration.
"Sweetheart I'm almost there" he breathed. Looking her in the eye, he was met with adoration, love and primal lust. Bucky felt her walls constricting as she cried out his name in unbridled passion only to be met by a ferocious roar as they both came, his body collapsing on hers (though he was careful not to hurt her). The heavy musky scent of sweat and sex filled the room as their laboured breaths reverberated around it. Bucky lifted his head to look at Y/N, a lazy smile sweeping across his face.
"I love you doll" he whispered. She couldn’t help but return the smile.
"I love you too Bucky, do I really have to leave you tomorrow?" she asked, her voice tinged with sadness. He nodded reluctantly while sucking in a breath of regret.
"T'challa, Okoye and Shuri all think it would be best for your safety. It won't be forever, just until the battle is over" he promised with a kiss. Y/N’s face contorted in an expression of concern.
"I wish you didn’t have to fight Buck, I worry about you" she sighed. Bucky’s heart felt like it was bursting with love for this woman who cared so much for his well-being.
"I'll come back to you Sweetheart, I promise. But here," he slid his dog tags off and put them around her neck, "just so you know that I'm coming back" he spoke softly as they wrapped their arms around each other. Neither wanting to let go.
The first year, after that battle, had been really tough. Though Y/N was given a home at the compound, it wasn't convenient for her to stay - not with a child due to be born. With Nat and Steve’s help she found the perfect place to live and slowly began to rebuild her life. Steve, Nat, Tony and Pepper would all check in with her but as time moved on contact lessened.
The second and third year passed quickly. The anniversary of 'The Snap' marked poignantly with a fireworks display as a show of respect, but it didn't change the void Y/N felt without Bucky there. He was missing out on so much of his daughter's life and little Georgina was missing out on her father's presence. She looked so much like him, the brown hair, the ocean eyes and the stubborn lock of the jaw. She could pull the grumpy faces with ease. Every night Y/N would shed tears for him. She didn’t want to believe that he was gone forever and clutched the dog tags holding them to her heart.
In the fourth year Nat and Steve began to visit more frequently and Y/N would stay overnight in the compound with Georgina more frequently as she introduced her to family. Sometimes Georgina would stay over on her own with Nat and Steve while they gave Y/N time to herself. She even met Okoye via holographic imaging and she told her stories of how her dad became known to Wakanda as the White Wolf.
Y/N smiled in the doorway as she observed her daughter and listened to Okoye. She didn’t realise Steve was behind her.
"You alright?" he asked startling her. She turned to look at him, nodding with an expression that cried the opposite.
Steve took her to the room next door. Y/N sat on the sofa and let out a huff. He sat next to her and she shifted to look at him. The pain in her eyes told him everything he needed to know. His expression was that of something she didn't need to see.
"I can't Steve, I just can't" she spoke as she toyed with the dog tags that she still wore.
"It's been four years Y/N" his tone like that of the start of a lecture.
"You think I don't know that Steve?" she asked incredulously.
"That’s not what I meant" he sighed.
"No of course not, you just think I should move on, leave what he and I had in the past. Well I can't Steve. I have Georgina to think of" Y/N angrily retorted, tears threatening her eyes.
"I didn't mean it like that. I just think that maybe you need to look forward, for Georgina's sake" he expressed. Y/N scoffed as she stood up and wiped the tears away as she turned to look at Steve. There was fire in her eyes.
"Don't you dare pretend that this is about her. You're supposed to be Bucky’s best friend, but where were you after Georgina was born huh? Those first two years. I did them on my own without your 'concern' so don't tell me this is about her" Y/N was so angry she was shaking. Steve nodded standing up. He ran his hand over his jaw.
"You're right. You called, sent pictures and I didn't respond. That's on me" he conceded. He placed his hands on his hips.
"What about your needs?" he gingerly moved towards her. She shook her head knowing where this was leading.
"My only need right now is to provide for Georgina and make sure she knows everything possible about how wonderful her dad is and I say is because I can't just leave him as a memory to fade away" her voice cracking slightly as she made her stance clear. Steve threw her a frustrated look.
"Are you going to tell her about how 'wonderful' he was in his murderous past with Hydra and celebrate each kill?" his tone was dark. Y/N slapped him so hard, the room echoed the pop.
"Fuck you Steve!" she hissed leaving the room to collect Georgina.
Two weeks later Steve decided to try and make amends. It was a little one sided but he wanted to try. He waited on the steps outside their apartment block.
"Uncle Stebe!!!" Georgina squealed pulling out of Y/N's hand to rush to him. He picked her up as she threw her arms around his neck. Her little pig tails bounced with vigour as she giggled while he tickled her.
"Now is my favourite little soldier being good for her mom?" he asked as Y/N reached them
"I'm always good for mommy" she gave a cheeky toothy grin.
"Steve" Y/N acknowledged with a nod. Steve returned the motion as Y/N opened the door and let them into the building. They walked up to the first floor listening to Georgina babble and not speaking to each other. Y/N let them into the apartment. Steve set Georgina down and Y/N helped her with her coat. Georgina ran off into her room excitedly while Steve followed Y/N into the kitchen. His eyes were trained on her, following every move as she put the kettle on to make coffee. Leaning against the counter, arms folded, she turned to look at Steve.
"I'm sorry," he looked down at his feet, there was no response from her. "I should never had said anything like that. Buck couldn't help what happened with Hydra" he admitted quietly.
"No, you shouldn't. She knows everything she can understand including how daddy was captured by bad men, they gave him a new arm because his was hurt but then they hurt his brain forcing him to do bad things" Steve looked at her with shame in his eyes as he nodded. He stepped closer to her.
"I just don't want you to be alone ok. I keep telling my help group to move on" he expressed.
"I get that OK, but I'm fine. Georgina is fine"
"Georgina needs a father who is here, not the memory of what could've been" his voice rises slightly as Y/N’s eyes widen at him.
"This isn't about me at all is it, it's about you. You're trying to absolve your own guilt. Well guess what Steve, we aren't your project" Y/N shook her head as she grabbed the milk from the fridge. Steve stepped up behind her trapping her between him and the fridge as she turned around.
"It's not like that ok," his tone now husky, "I'm fed up being lonely. Aren't you? We could give Georgina the family she deserves. I could give you the happy ending you deserve" he pressed. Y/N pushed him aside.
"I think you need to leave. There are so many things wrong with what you said. To have any of that would mean I have to have feelings for you. But I don't ok. As a friend I care but I don't love and I don't need you telling me how to raise my child especially when she's not yours" her anger was palpable.
"I can't believe even now he's still doing it," Steve rolled his eyes. The fury in them now obvious, "Saint Bucky, he can do no wrong even though he has done more shit than most of us. Yet even now someone prefers him over me like I'm not good enough, well I'm sick of it!" he shouted at Y/N. He didn't realise Georgina had grabbed her mom's cell phone in the living room and pressed the buttons her mom had taught her in an emergency. She pressed the speed dial number and waited.
"Y/N what's up?" Nat asked.
"Auntie Nat" Georgina whispered in tears.
"Geena what's up sweetheart, tell me honey" she was worried hearing the child's scared whimpers.
"Uncle Stebe is shouting at Mommy, she's crying. I'm scared" she spoke with a lisp. Nat frowned.
"Ok sweetheart are you at home?" she quizzed leaving the compound.
"Yes" she sniffled.
"Stay in your room ok, I'm coming over" she promised. Georgina ran back to her room and hid under her blankets crying and hoping it would all stop.
After that interaction, Nat thought it was best if she went to visit Y/N rather than her visit the compound. Nat had been furious with Steve when she found out what happened, it got worse when he refused to apologise under the principles of it all feeling he had a right and although Nat had got there before he could do what he wanted, the damage had been done. Georgina was terrified of Steve and Y/N no longer wanted any contact with him. Though furious, Nat had quickly put it on the back-burner towards the end of the year when the sudden emergence of Scott Lang offered the hope of bringing people back from the snap.
The reverse of 'The Snap' was chaotic. Pepper had dropped Morgan off to Y/N so that Georgina and Morgan had sleepover while Pepper could help the fight. Y/N hugged Pepper tight wishing her all the best. Y/N had already been devastated by the loss of Nat, Bruce had phoned her to let her know. However she needed to be strong and now with Morgan staying over, she had to be there for the girls and not let on what was really happening. She tried to remain focused building a pillow fort with the girls and watching Disney programmes with them while snacking on fruit salad and crisps. The girls were happy enough and wore themselves out with excitement. Y/N put them to bed and tidied up. Suddenly aware of noise and commotion outside, she hurriedly put the cushions back and looked out of the window. She couldn’t believe her eyes as people started materialising out of nowhere in the same fashion that people started disappearing. Placing a hand over her mouth, she fought back tears, she was just hoping she'd have him back. Two hours later there was a knock on the door, a tearful Happy had sorrow in his eyes, Pepper had sent him to collect Morgan. Y/N offered a hug with condolences as she welcomed him in. Morgan was still asleep as Y/N passed her to Happy and watched him leave. Losing Tony on top of losing Nat was too painful to bear. She went back to Georgina's room and snuggled up to her on the bed. Her sorrow soothed by the sound of her daughter sleeping peacefully.
Rays of sun beaming through the curtains woke Y/N up. She hadn’t been asleep for long. Careful not to wake her daughter up; she padded to the kitchen, made some coffee and switched the radio on. The news was reporting people returning from the snap. She had to turn it back off again. She couldn’t dare have her hopes up. A knock at the door caught her attention. As she opened the door she gasped, eyes filling with tears as he stood before her.
"Hey doll" he whispered with a shy smile. She flung her arms around his neck as he held her, lifting her up, he carried her into the apartment. Both happily sobbing, she looked at him again as he closed the door with his foot and carried her to the sofa. He sat down and held her too him draped across his lap. Neither said anything at first. They just gazed into each other’s eyes. She ran her hand down his cheek slowly, her thumb stroking the scruff.
"I've missed you so much but I never gave up hope that one day we'd see you again" she muttered as she showed him the tags. Religiously she had worn them and somehow he knew.
"I'm sorry I was gone for so long, I can't even explain it or what it felt like. I just wanted to feel like I was home" he explained pressing his lips lightly to hers, then her nose and her forehead. Something he always used to do.
"Well you have a home here, with us, if you want" she smiled softly as Bucky rested his forehead to hers.
"Us? Do you have a pet or something?" he chuckled. Y/N stood up and pulled Bucky up with her. Taking his hand in hers she pressed her fingers to her lips and led him to one of the other rooms where the door was open enough to walk in without making noise. They slipped in quietly and Bucky’s jaw dropped. She was tiny compared to him, her brown hair framing her face perfectly. He felt like he was looking at Rebecca all over again. A lump formed in his throat as he looked to Y/N. She nodded in confirmation as he wrapped his arms around Y/N. Tears threatening his eyes again.
"She's beautiful, perfect even" he whispered in Y/N’s ear. They left the room as quietly as they entered it and Y/N made a beeline for the kitchen.
Putting bread in the toaster, she grabbed the eggs and bacon from the fridge. He sat at the counter as he picked up Y/N’s coffee sipping some of it and humming at the taste.
"When did you discover you were pregnant?" he asked.
"Two months after our last night together" she replied as she put the bacon in the oven. She made her way over to him and let him pull her to his lap, he held the mug to her lips as she sipped the coffee. She draped her arms around his neck and watched him set the mug down.
"Does she know who I am, like did you..."
"She knows all about you, the good and the bad and she still loves you. Every night she says goodnight to a picture of you" Y/N noticed Bucky trying to process how a child could love him after everything. Suddenly his face changed as though remembering something else, his face contorted with a mixture of shame and heartache. "Buck, what's up? Talk to me" she coaxed. His eyes were apologetic.
"That’s not how this works. That's not how any of this works" his voice was almost desperate, "if my parents and grandparents were here they'd kill me" he expressed. He realised Y/N was looking at him in confusion.
"What do you mean?" Y/N was not sure where this was headed.
"Doll, I know these are modern times but I'm still that guy from the 1940s. My family always insisted on the Barnes men doing things right. Marriage then children. I knocked you up and disappeared. I'm as bad as Tommy Appleby from number 32. He did that to a dame when I was 16. When I laughed, my grandfather slapped me around the back of my head, sat me down with my dad and gave me the talk on how to treat a dame" he explained. Y/N smiled softly at him and cupped his face in her hands.
"This wasn't your fault. You would've been here if the snap didn't happen. You can't help that. But you're here now. I know it might be intimidating but you'll be a fantastic father" Y/N assured. He kissed her deeply, he wanted to assure her he was going nowhere.
"Daddy?" a small shrill voice interrupted them. Y/N and Bucky looked towards the direction of the voice, his eyes widened in shock as he was lost for words. Georgina was standing there staring at him with an excited smile on her face like all Christmases had come at once.
Part 2
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I came back for you
Word count: 2123
Genre: Angst but happy end
Pairing: Natasha x gn!reader
Warnings: Abusive prison/government (let me know if I need to add any)
Request: Hey, so this is kind of a weird request, but could you do a Nattie x Powered! Reader during Civil War, where Nat, of course, is on Tony's team, and the Reader is trying to keep the peace between the two teams. Maybe the government takes (Y/n) and puts her in a shock collar like Wanda's because they think she was on Steve's team? Sorry this is so weird . . .
Summary: You are neutral in the fight, or so you think before you are told you can't be and are taken away with the rest of Cap's team.
A/n: Thanks @thewidowsghost for requesting this! Honestly I didn't plan on writing anything or posting anything today but I saw that I had a little bit of this done and to be honest my day has sucked so I needed a distraction and this worked perfectly. Also I could someone tell me how the formatting looks? I'm trying the new beta editor and I think I'm doing things right but idk. Anyways I hope you all enjoy!
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As you take in the scene that surrounds you you can’t believe that you once considered everybody to be a big weird family. Certainly none of them are acting like it now. It breaks your heart to see them on opposite sides, throwing themselves at each other because apparently their personal beliefs are more important than their friends.
Neither of them are right or wrong in your opinion. There’s too many factors and both options suck, it’s the government’s fault for placing the team in this situation. However you are not happy with the way anyone is handling it, especially Steve, Tony and Natasha. Both Tony and Steve are acting based on what they think is right without considering the other sides to the story, although you can’t say that’s surprising coming from them. You do know that they genuinely do care for others but they can be very hard headed and neither of them like to be wrong.
It’s Natasha who you’re most disappointed in though, you thought that she would be a better negotiation, helping ease the tension but she’s out there fighting like the rest of the idiots. You thought that she would agree with you and try to bring together the two sides.
You narrow your eyes and zoom in your vision to the far side of the airport where you see Spiderman. You have no idea who he is but you can tell just by looking at him that he’s only a kid and it was irresponsible of everyone to let him be here and to fight him. You use your superspeed to get to him quickly and take him out of the way of flying cars and leave him by the side where it should be relatively safe.
“Stay here.” you tell him.
You glare. “Stay here.”
You rush off before you can make sure he listens because you can hear a grunt of pain from Rhodney. He’s lying on the ground with Tony standing over him and Sam a few meters back. The fight seems to be ending now, you see the plane leaving and the rest of the avengers start to gather but it doesn’t matter because the damage is already done. You don’t know exactly what happened but it looks like a freak accident, somehow nobody’s fault and yet everybody’s fault for getting into this situation in the first place.
The mood is weird, as if everybody is holding their breath and taking in what they’ve done. In the background you can hear trucks pulling up and footsteps follow soon after. The first man grabs Wanda and she blasts him back lightly so he falls down. Immediately a circle forms around her, everyone pointing their guns. Clint takes a step in, raising his arms and trying to calm the situation down but the guns shift to him and one agent steps forward and roughly grabs him, forcing his wrists into cuffs.
They go for Sam next and he looks pissed but lets them cuff him without comment. Scott looks completely confused and out of his depth. You don’t know him but it’s obvious that he is not trained for these types of situations and is in over his head.
It’s Wanda that makes your heart break the most though. She’s like a little sister to you so seeing the tears in her eyes and the terror on her face as the agents move in to cuff her makes you want to wrap your arms around her and promise it will all be okay. But you can’t, that would be a lie because everything is not okay and trying to hug her would only make things worse.
The agents start to move away, leading Cap's team to their trucks to be taken away. One of them turns back and notices you, murmuring something to the agents beside them. Before you can even understand what is happening they are right back and grabbing at your arms roughly. Naturally you try to pull away but they are strong and once you realize what is happening you stop struggling.
“I didn’t pick a side,” you try to explain, “I was just trying to make sure everyone was okay.”
“You didn’t sign the accords and therefore have no right to be here.” one of the men tells you. You look towards Tony’s team for help but they all seem to be busy. Tony and Vision are trying to make sure Rhodney is okay and the kid is luckily back where you left him. T’challa is shaking hands with one of the agents and although it makes you sick because of the way they are treating some of the others you understand, he does have a country to run and his people must come first after all.
Natasha is the only one not doing anything and she meets your eyes. You silently beg her to do something, anything against what is happening. She stares you straight in the eye and shakes her head. You actually shiver at how cold her look is because you never thought that would be directed at you, you thought that the two of you were close.
“I’m not going to help you Y/n, you made your own choice and I made mine.” Is all she says before turning away. You watch her back as long as you can as you are led into the trucks, wondering how everything went wrong so quickly.
Nobody talks. You aren’t even sure if you’re allowed to. There is no way what they are doing is legal but who is going to argue with the government. A secret prison built just for enhanced individuals and imprisoning people without trial isn’t right. You were neutral before but the more you see of how the government operates the more you start to lean towards supporting Steve and the rest of his “team”.
You shift slightly because the shock collar is getting even more uncomfortable. Wanda is wearing one too, probably since the two of you are the only ones that have powers unrelated to technology and suits. She looks smaller than ever in her cell and you close your eyes because if you continue to look at her you know you’ll end up crying.
Nothing changes throughout the day until you hear the door creak open. Everyone glares when they see it’s Tony and he and Clint share a few words before Tony practically begs Sam for information. Sam’s reluctant but gives in, seeing that Tony is sincere and knowing that although he disagrees with Tony it’s not really his fault that you’re all here, it’s the government’s.
When Tony leaves things go silent again for a few hours. You haven’t been fed since you’ve gotten here, you realize, but you aren’t hungry anyways, your mind can’t stop picturing the fight, being arrested and most of all Natasha’s attitude towards you. It hurts even more than you would like to admit. You considered her your best friend but you also had feelings for her and you were dumb enough to think that just maybe she felt the same things about you. Obviously that is completely untrue and you wonder if even your friendship was a lie.
“How long do you think we’ll be stuck here for?” Wanda asks finally and although her voice is quiet you wince at how it breaks the silence.
“I don’t know kid.” Clint responds. “Too long. My wife is going to kill me and my kids-”
He stops himself, getting a little choked up which surprises you. You’ve never seen him this emotional before.
“I already miss my daughter.” Scott adds on and there is a moment of understanding that passes between the two of them.
“I don’t have my own family but I’m going to miss my sister.” Sam says. “She probably won’t even find out what’s happening until it’s on the news, if the news even covers it.”
“I miss the team.” you add. “Before this fight, we weren’t perfect but I considered everyone family.”
“So did I.” Wanda says and you all take a moment to miss what used to be.
“I miss pizza.” Sam jokes, trying to lighten the mood. It works and soon everyone is adding on ridiculous things they miss and things they want to do when you get out (you can’t even think about the fact that the “when” might actually be “if”).
Your eyes snap to the door when it opens and everyone shuts up immediately. You look warily at Natasha, unsure of why she’s here. Maybe the government sent her in to interrogate, god knows she is amazing at that and you honestly wouldn’t be able to not talk to her, as much as you’re mad at her right now.
She doesn’t speak, going straight towards Sam’s door and kneeling down, fiddling with the lock. After a few seconds it clicks and the door swings open.
“When did you switch sides?” He asks, raising his eyebrows, impressed.
“I don’t pick sides, I do what makes the most sense and right now breaking you out is the right thing to do. Besides I’m wanted now too, apparently the government doesn’t like it when you aid fugitives in escaping.” she responds smoothly, moving onto Wanda’s cell and repeating her actions until it opens.
“Do you know how to take the collar off?” she asks and Sam nods. He gets to work while Natasha moves on. Both Clint and Scott pass at her offer of freeing them. They both look like they’re itching to escape but you respect that they’re putting their families first.
You’re surprised by how emotional you get when she unlocks your cell. You thought she didn’t care about you so to have her here now is amazing and makes you feel bad you ever doubted that she would do the right thing.
“Y/n, it’s okay, I’ve got you.” she tells you as she undoes your shock collar carefully, doing her best to not hurt you.
“I-I thought you didn’t care about me anymore.” you admit, a single tear dripping down your face.
She wipes it away with her thumb. “Oh sweetheart I care about you so much, more than you could ever know and I want you to always remember that, promise me.”
You nod, sniffing. “I promise Tasha.”
“Good because I came back for you and I will always come back for you.” she says, leaning in closer. You look down at her lips as she continues to lean in because she is so close and it seems like she’s going to kiss you.
“Glad to know Y/n was the only reason you came back.” Sam says, smirking. You love him but you also want to strangle him right now, that bastard could totally see what was happening and ruined the moment on purpose.
Natasha flips him the finger but otherwise ignores him. “Steve and Bucky are waiting in the jet outside, I was able to dismantle alarms and cameras but we only have a few minutes left so follow me and be quiet.”
She grabs your hand as she moves out of your cell and you walk with her, the others trailing behind slightly. The halls are clear and it’s only a few turns before she ushers everyone into a vent. It’s a tight squeeze but you make it through and you pop out to find sturdy wires attached to the side of the raft coming from a nearby jet. Wanda and Sam each take one and their wires retract, pulling them into the jet. You gulp nervously, heights are definitely not one of your favourite things.
“We have to go Y/n.” Natasha whispers just as alarms start to sound, the noises loud with flashing lights.
You take a deep breath and grab the remaining wire and once you’re secure Natasha grabs it too. Closing your eyes tightly so you don’t look down you feel a strange whooshing sensation before it disappears and your feet touch down on the jet floor.
“So what next?” Sam asks once you’ve all collected yourselves, directing his question at Steve.
“We lie low and try to help as best we can.” he responds, sighing heavily. “We’ll figure out the details as we go, what matters is that everybody is safe.”
Natasha holds your hand again and squeezes it tightly. “And that we are together.” she whispers into your ear so only you hear.
You squeeze her hand tightly back. Your relationship with her has gone through a rollercoaster of a day and is mostly undefined but she’s right, all that matters is that you’re together now and you wouldn’t rather be with anyone else.
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whileiamdying · 2 months ago
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by Newsweek Staff 8/1/01 @ 8:00 PM EDT
On the very last page of the unauthorized biography "Tina and Harry Come to America," author Judy Bachrach comes clean. In the acknowledgments, she admits to receiving no cooperation from the subjects of her book, Tina Brown and her husband, Harold Evans. On that page, she thanks three dozen people who did provide interviews and other help along the way. Writes the author, "I had to rely on the kindness of those who knew them." The statement comes as a bit of a shock, since during the preceding 356 pages, there are few kind words spoken about the couple.
Though the book ostensibly is about the much-gossiped-about pair, Bachrach devotes most of her energy to the Tina story. (In fact, the chapters on Evans are written with such decreased vigor, one wonders why Bachrach didn't simply focus the book on Tina.) Brown gained renown, of course, during her eight-year reign as editor of Vanity Fair, where she stoked sales by splashing Hollywood stars across every cover--even those whose movies and TV shows she hadn't actually seen--and spent lavishly on writers, photographers and promotional parties. Researching this book, Bachrach consumed years of profiles and news items written about Tina. She also conducted fresh interviews with ex-lovers, colleagues and friends. The result is a fast read that not only unearths dozens of delicious tidbits, but provides a remarkably balanced portrait of an ambitious--if somewhat ruthless--woman.
The book traces Tina's personal history in exhaustive detail. She was a quiet, bookish and plump child. "These thick glasses--she was nothing special," says the son of the family housekeeper. The daughter of a B-movie producer, stars were always in her home. But as actress Joan Collins remembers, "As a girl, she didn't stand out." Tina gained admittance to Oxford, says the book, after she attended a "crammer" school designed to help late-blooming students pass university entrance exams. As an undergraduate, her ambitions--both journalistically and socially--blossomed. She wrote for school magazines and penned whole plays; during her final year, she called up the features editor at London's Harper's & Queen magazine and asked what they were doing about her play. The book also recounts her boyfriends of that period, including author Martin Amis and actor Dudley Moore. Just a few years after graduation, Brown was living in London, writing for the Sunday Times and deep into an affair with Harry Evans, the married editor of that paper. At 28 years old, by which time she was editor of Tatler magazine, she and Evans were married. Then came their 1984 move to the States and Brown's blockbuster eight years as editor of Vanity Fair. There, Tina's formula--or "The Mix," as she called it--seemed to be two parts news, one part naughty bits. Issues contained stories on politics, scandal, rich Europeans--and were topped off with covers bearing lots of cleavage. Her most famous front? A very pregnant Demi Moore on the August 1991 issue. Tina is quoted in the book as saying "I had been looking for a way to make a statement about the '90s, and when Annie [Leibovitz] brought this picture in I immediately said, 'That is it!' Because it was so natural and it took off the power suits--literally. It said: 'Naked. Pregnant. It's fine to show your stomach'."
In 1992, Brown began her less successful but equally high-profile stint at the helm of The New Yorker, which was marked by increased circulation but plenty of mini-scandals. There was the issue "guest edited" by Roseanne, covers that many said were simply there to drum up controversy and a lot of internal strife around the perceived trashing of a legendary literary magazine. The book claims Brown stomach'."was about to be ousted from The New Yorker when she left abruptly in 1998 to start a new magazine with Miramax called Talk.
It's the chapters on the Vanity Fair and New Yorker years that provide the most insight into Brown's life and character. Bachrach claims that when Tina first arrived in New York, she'd go home at night and count up all the slights she'd heard that day. She never got over her nervousness. When a London friend came to visit her at Vanity Fair, she made him stay quiet until they were out of the building for fear of being overheard. Brown is a famous workaholic but the book provides a more balanced picture, reporting that she and Harry would each leave work at 5:30 p.m. and that during dinnertime, the phone would remain off the hook. As Brown's parents grew older, they moved into her Manhattan home; both remained there until their deaths.
Over the years, Brown has been heralded as a ruthless visionary. But the book details the downside to big-time editing--plenty of unhappy battles with the brass. The best description of Tina's perennial dilemma comes on page 283: "Tina was at once lonely at the top, and yet the position itself was strictly illusory: she was not really at the top at all. Above her were the men who needed to be placated." (These men were, of course, her Conde Nast boss, Si Newhouse, and publishers, Steve and Tom Florio, as well as fiery Harvey Weinstein at Miramax.) Reading the book, you can't help but feel that if she were a man, Brown would have had an easier go at it--though it's arguable as to whether she would have gained fame at all in that case. "Tina possessed a remarkably powerful and rare characteristic in a woman: she honestly didn't care whether or not she was liked," a staffer notes in one chapter. By contrast, unnamed others quoted in the book call her incredibly insecure.
Brown's union with Evans, according to the book, has been solid, though far from ideal. "She never pretended to have the perfect marriage," an associate is quoted as saying. Tina identified with Hillary Rodham Clinton, according to the book. When the subject of Bill Clinton's extramarital activities came up at The New Yorker, "Tina never chimed in," Bachrach writes. "She found such conclusions unsophisticated, hopelessly puritanical."
Bachrach doesn't attribute very often in the book. Perhaps that was the only way to get the dirt. But it's hard to tell which quotes, anecdotes and exchanges of dialogue were lifted from other articles, what was unearthed during her interviews and what is little more than hearsay. For the authorized story, we may have to wait for the publication of Tina's journals; she's kept a diary since age 12. But for the dish, "Tina and Harry Come to America" is just fine.
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jurassicbarnes-archives · 2 months ago
Take a Chance
Bucky Barnes x Reader
Summary: In which Bucky Barnes can't help but confess his feelings in the least expected way.
Word Count: don't fucking ask 7k
Warnings: nsfw for smut reasons lol (also brief mention of steve x reader), talking mid-sex does that count as a warning?
Author’s Note: not tagging anyone bc this is the worst thing i've ever written,, please i'm sorry for this really,, idk what dynamic i was going for but the idea just randomly popped in my head one night and i went with it.
i have written this thing three fucking times and i'm still not satisfied with the way this turned out so yeah i'm the fucking worst but if you still make it till the end, i'll be glad :)
any kind of feedback is appreciated :))
Masterlist Here
(gif is not mine)
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A swift knock on the door makes you drop the task at hand. Your eyes meet the wall clock and you curse softly under your breath.
“Coming!” You yell, abandoning the laundry basket on the couch and adjusting the cream-coloured sweater which hangs loose on your frame. You run your fingers through your hair a couple of times, hoping you don't look like a complete mess. Although the coffee stain on your tank top begs to differ. Running to the door, you open it wide with your best smile plastered on your face.
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aishnidoh · 3 months ago
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1. Andrew Carnegie (goal setter)
Andrew Carnegie was an American entrepreneur who actually immigrated from Scotland. Born into the lower class, Carnegie and his family immigrated to Pennsylvania, where they lived a better lifestyle. Carnegie later founded the Carnegie Steel Company, growing it to become one of the largest companies in U.S. history.
In addition to the success of his company, Carnegie became a very successful angel investor. Using the money made through his steel company, he invested in various car companies, messenger services, and land that contained oil reserves. Upon his death in 1919, Carnegie had an estimated net worth of $350 million, which, in 2021 dollars, would be worth nearly $5.5 billion.
Creative vision is the first of three principles Carnegie raises. What exactly does creative vision mean? Carnegie breaks it down into ten fundamental attitudes, which in aggregate form the basis for creative vision. 
“The organized thinker never gives up anything he undertakes until he has exhausted every effort to finish it.” 
Controlled attention is the final principle. Controlled attention is in some ways an offshoot of the other two. According to Carnegie, if you orient your mind in a specific way, all your attention starts to siphon in a specific direction. “Controlled attention magnetized the brain with the nature of one’s dominating thoughts, aims, and purposes, thus causing one to be always in search of every necessary thing that is related to one’s dominating thoughts.”
“A man will always be more effective when engaged in the sort of work he likes best. That is why one’s major purpose in life should be of his own choice. People who drift through life performing work they do not like, merely because they must have an income as a means of living, seldom get more than a living from their labor. You see, this sort of labor does not inspire one to perform service in an obsessional desire to work. It is one of the tragedies of civilization that we have not found a way to give every man the sort of work he likes best to do.”
2. Henry Ford (efficient)
Unlike Andrew Carnegie, Henry Ford was a natural-born citizen who grew up in Michigan. Born into a family that originated from England and Ireland, he was well off, though not wealthy. Ford was a hard-working man and eventually completed an apprenticeship with the Detroit Dry Dock Company. In 1891, he met with Thomas Edison and told him about his concept of the automobile. Edison liked the idea and let Ford use his warehouse to develop and manufacture two prototypes.
Using the prototypes, Ford soon founded the Detroit Automobile Company. The company was short-lived, however, since the product did not meet Ford's standards. He went on to found the Cadillac Motor Car Company, which also failed, before starting the Ford Motor Company for which he is famous. His third attempt at a car company made him very successful, and the company remains a going concern with annual sales of over $155.9 billion.
Like many another he had entertained his mind with ideas of having lived before. The thing that really mattered, he said, was what experience we got from a former life and what we gathered in this to pass on to help other people for their next life. It is the sum of what we carry on from one generation to another that makes the essence of experience the thing, he said.
As we passed on to lighter themes I asked him if in a future incarnation he would leave old-fashioned things like motor-cars and concentrate on a small aeroplane with, say, a gyroscope. He replied that he did not know anything about that or what he would like in another life.
'The only thing is,' said Henry Ford, 'I should like to be sure of having the same wife.' 'That's the difference between you and me, Mr. Ford,' his interviewer ventured to say, 'I hope that my own wife will have better luck in the next world.' 'There you are, Henry,' said Mrs. Ford, who was sitting near, 'you only think of yourself, but your friend thinks of his wife.' 'It means the same thing,' said Henry Ford, delighted with the turn the talk had taken, and he put out his hand and we shook hands, and the conversation grew in warmth.
3. Ophra Winfrey (persistent)
Oprah Winfrey is a shining example of an American success story. While she did not reveal her past until 1986, Winfrey was a victim of sexual assault at the age of nine and became pregnant at the age of 14 before losing the child during childbirth.
These early trials and tribulations gave her the perspective and confidence that helped her land her first TV show in 1983. From there, Winfrey steadily grew her brand and her empire, founding Harpo Studios, a multimedia company, in 1988.The company, through ad revenue and other revenue streams, has steadily grown to over 12,500 employees.
Winfrey co-founded Oxygen Media, another media company that attracts millions of annual television viewers.Winfrey, a TV personality turned entrepreneur, has a net worth of $2.6 billion as of Jan. 13, 2021
“It’s another situation I’ve got myself in,” she laughs, “but I care about injustice and if I get the opportunity to flag it, I will, every time. I’ll stand up there.” Ironically, the charismatic icon is more grounded than ever. Oprah recognises she cannot do everything alone, as she once thought she could, and accepts that when it comes to real change, we all have a long way to go, and a lot to contribute. "It's a significant moment in time for all of us. Society will never revert to how it was. It can't and it won't"“It’s a significant moment in history for all of us,” she utters in her famously rich tones. “Society as an entity will never be the same again, and will never revert to how it was. It can’t, and it won’t.”The truth is, Oprah is already a leader who empowers and emboldens her supporters, so it’s understandable that she isn’t willing to risk it all for a spin of the Washington wheel. If the media is the natural successor to the power of politics, then Oprah, who owns her own cable channel, OWN, and is a special correspondent for current affairs show 60 Minutes, is already an unrivalled leader. Perhaps part of that is because—unlike the current US President and so many others at the top table—Oprah was not born into wealth; she has worked tirelessly over the past four decades to build her formidable empire.
4. Bill Gates (risk taker)
Bill Gates, one of the most well-known American technology entrepreneurs, is the second-richest person in the world with a net worth of over $133 billion as of Jan. 13, 2021.Gates grew up in Seattle, Wash., and began tinkering with personal computers at an early age with friends such as Paul Allen. Showing a ton of aptitude and promise, Gates enrolled in Harvard, where he met Steve Ballmer before dropping out to start Microsoft.
Gates, with the help of Allen, Ballmer, and others, built Microsoft to become one of the world's largest and most influential tech companies. In 2020, Gates only recently stepped down from the board of Microsoft, which is valued at over a trillion dollars based on its market capitalization. He is decided to refocus his personal efforts on the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation.
Pretty quickly we decided that we ought to get out there and really help these guys get their act together. I never became an employee. Paul was their Vice President of Software. But I moved out and whatever I did from the inside, I did on behalf of Microsoft. I got out there and alot of what I started doing at first was actually enhancing the BASIC. 537
DA: Let me ask this Bill. You mentioned that, even before this, you and Paul had had many discussions about the future. How did this work affect what you thought the future was going to hold?
BG: Well, Paul had talked about the microprocessor and where that would go and so we had formulated this idea that everybody would have kind of a computer as a tool somehow. Not just for business, but also for something they would play around with as a home device. We knew that however it got started, that there would be certain standards built-up around it, about how you programmed things. We wanted to be part of that excitement. And so we saw this machine as just the beginning of an era. And this company was a wild company. I mean they were actually bankrupt before they did this because they had gotten screwed up doing Kit Calculators which had been their thing they had done after model rocketry.
MITS actually stands for "Micro Instrumentation Telemetry Systems", funny little things you stick on top of the rocket that tells you what the temperature is at the top of the flight or eventually, they had ones that would take pictures. So, they had done okay in that and then got into Kit Calculators. But was wiped out by Bomar and TI. And then just as a desperate thing, they did Kit Computers. When these computers came out at $360, the price of the 8080 chip was $360. So people kept saying, "They must be broken chips, it must be fake." And, of course, when they put these kits together, they didn't preassemble them, so if you miss one part -- a lot of people had a hard time putting these things together. But, a lot of people got it done and eventually went on to buy the Teletype and BASIC, and actually get a running system. So we thought, "Hey, are we really on to something here? We think so." And MITS was just great because it was just a center of activity for those first few years. We went around the country in this big van, big blue van, they had, with these machines starting up user groups and demonstrating things. Actually, before we even shipped BASIC, somebody stole the demo copy out of the van and started copying it around and sending it to different computer clubs. There was a real phenomenon taking place there, right around this Altair computer. In fact, the MITS guys were kind of upset when people would imitate this computer, same plug-in bus for peripherals -- things like that. They really weren't sure what to do about it.
5.Larry Page (committed)
Larry Page is the co-founder of Google, the world's number one search engine. Google was started by Page and his co-founder Sergey Brin while they were doctorate students at Stanford University.12 With an initial investment of just $100,000, the two partners quickly grew Google into a multinational conglomerate.In 2015, Google was restructured to form the parent company Alphabet Inc., with Page serving as CEO.Page has a net worth of $82.0 billion as of Jan 13, 2021.
Looking forward 100 years from now at the possibilities that are opening up, he says: “We could probably solve a lot of the issues we have as humans.”It is a decade on from the first flush of idealism that accompanied its stock market listing, and all Google’s talk of “don’t be evil” and “making the world a better place” has come to sound somewhat quaint. Its power and wealth have stirred resentment and brought a backlash, in Europe in particular, where it is under investigation for how it wields its monopoly power in internet search.
Page, however, is not shrinking an inch from the altruistic principles or the outsized ambitions that he and co-founder Sergey Brin laid down in seemingly more innocent times. “The societal goal is our primary goal,” he says. “We’ve always tried to say that with Google. I think we’ve not succeeded as much as we’d like.”
Even Google’s famously far-reaching mission statement, to “organise the world’s information and make it universally accessible and useful”, is not big enough for what he now has in mind. The aim: to use the money that is spouting from its search advertising business to stake out positions in boom industries of the future, from biotech to robotics.
Asked whether this means Google needs a new mission statement, he says: “I think we do, probably.” As to what it should be: “We’re still trying to work that out.”,,127365,00.html
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rebeccccccaaa · 3 months ago
ᴀɢᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ!ᴘᴇᴛᴇʀ ᴘᴀʀᴋᴇʀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ
ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛᴇᴅ: (ANON) PLEASE make one where the avengers or one of them finds out that Peter and Y / N (Rogers, Stark, Barnes whatever) have Onlyfans together, I can't get it out of my head, love you xx
ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: none unless onlyfans is a warning lol also bi!peter? ;)
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“Hey Tony, I think you should check this out,” Steve walked in the lab looking like a terrified little boy. 
Steve handed him the phone and on it was a six second clip of you and Peter giggling. The catch is Peter's has a raging boner poking through his hardly there boxers and the excuse piece of lace that one would call lingerie also left little to nothing to the imagination for you. 
You were walking slowly to Peter who sat on the bed. You slowly dropped to your knees and Tony's eyes practically bulged out of his face. Right before you pulled his boxers down the video stopped. Tony dropped the phone staying still as a statue. Complete and utter shock was the only thing to describe his expression. 
“What the hell is this?” he said slowly, but terrifyingly. 
“It’s uh, it’s Y/n and Peter-”
“Parker! L/n!” Tony screamed at the top of his lungs.
“Thank god, we put that preview on Twitter and not on Instagram. We’ve gotten like a thousand new subscribers since,” you giggled laying on your stomach on the bed. 
“I told you it was gonna work,” Peter came up to and kissed the top of your head.
“Can we go shopping later today? There’s a lot of people asking if we can do like a red and blue lingerie shoot together-”
“Parker! L/n!” Tony’s muffled screams interrupted you. 
“What’s going on?” Peter asked. 
“I don’t know.”
You and Peter walked downstairs and walked into the lab where Tony stood glaring daggers at you two once you showed up. Nat followed behind you as did Bucky, Sam, and Wanda confused by Tony’s sudden anger especially towards you two. You two were his pride and joy of the team. Like his adoptive children, well you’re not exactly children anymore. 
“What’s going on?” Peter asked.
“Why are you screaming?” Nat followed up sitting on one of the tables.
“What the hell is this?” Tony handed you two the phone.
“Oh, that’s our OnlyFans promo,” you said casually.
“You’re what?”
“OnlyFans,” Peter said.
“What the hell is OnlyFans?” Tony said, still visibly upset.
“Well, people subscribe to whatever account they see fit for profit I guess and you get to see whatever we post on our page. We do a lot of shoots and ads on there and on Instagram sometimes but if you pay us more money you can unlock more photos and videos of us. We posted that so we can get more subs,” you explained.
“I still don’t get why you two were- Argh!” Tony couldn’t even say it, he was so in shock. 
“Yeah, it’s really true when they say sex sells,” you laughed making the others laugh too. Unbeknownst to Tony and Steve, the rest of the team already knew about your OnlyFans. They all subscribed but everybody expected Nat don’t pay further considering they work with you and watching you two fondling each other wasn’t particularly desirable. Nat didn’t give a shit though and bought everything, she’s even shot you guys. 
“It’s not like this is particularly a secret. They posted about starting one like four months ago on Insta,” Nat pulled up the post about your announcement.
“Four months! And you all knew about this?” Tony looked to everyone and they all sheepishly nodded.
“We thought you knew,” Wanda said.
“I didn’t know!”
“I can’t believe you two are doing porn,” Tony pinched his nose.
“It’s all consensual and none of our stuff is being trafficked or sold illegally. Everything goes through us and we’ve made tons of money,” you told him.
“How much?” Steve asked curiously.
“Uh, maybe about six hundred thousand this week?” Peter shrugged. 
“What!” Everyone shouted simultaneously. 
“Yeah, that post really got people all hot and bothered. Also the pic of me sucking-”
“I was gonna say lollipop,” you rolled your eyes.
“Oh the one with the baby pink two piece and skirt?” Wanda asked.
“Yeah,” you smiled.
“Oh, I liked that one,” Bucky said.
“The donut,” Sam laughed as did everyone else and Steve and Tony stood there completely clueless because they hadn’t seen the picture. 
“I can’t,” Tony sighed dramatically.
“Tones, I get that you’re worried about them but they’re fine. They’re one of the highest paid accounts on the website.”
“They’re kids,” Tony whined.
“Uh, I’m twenty one,” you snickered.
“And I’m twenty three,” Peter said after.
“I don’t care!” Tony cried.
“Where can I subscribe?” Steve whispered to Bucky not so quietly making you and Peter laugh. 
“Ugh! Go! I don’t want to hear about this anymore. Promise me you guys are being safe?” Tony asked sincerely.
“We promise,” you both crossed your hearts.
“Alright, get out!”
Everyone scurried out and Steve’s eyes stayed glued to his phone. You looked at Peter who scrunched his face and pouted but nodded his head with a lazy thin smile.
“Hey Steve, if you’re ever up for it, I’m sure a lot of people would love to see a bit of Captain America’s little soldier. Or big soldier from what I can see through those sweats,” you winked, before scurrying away with Peter who grinned cheekily at him.
ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ: (For all my work)
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balmasedas · 3 months ago
desperado / druglord!javier peña au. 
chapter one.
summary: reader is a dea agent. violence has arisen in the streets of colombia and she's determined to bring javier peña to justice. things take an abrupt turn when, instead of her finding him, he finds her and realizes they got much more interest in each other than just drug-related topics. 
warnings: only +18. overall, this is smut so smutty. canon violence. detailed warnings in every chapter. spanish traductions are in the notes, though for the sake of non-spanish speakers, spanish dialogues will be minimal and not relevant to the plot.
word count: 2.5k.
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You throw your sweater in the backseat of your car before exiting it. In the morning, you had dug through your boxed-up winter clothes after shivering in your shirt-sleeves as soon as you got out of your department. Now, the temperature has risen to the seventies and you give yourself a clap in the back for deciding to wear something decent underneath. Spring in Colombia is a nightmare.
The crime scene is packed with local police and DEA agents. There are no civilian spectators this time, they know better than sticking their noses in the Medellin's cartel businesses.
Upon your arrival, you don’t need to identify yourself to the uniformed men guarding the perimeter. They know you well by then. You are the only female in the team that has to deal with these kinds of situations —gruesome, gut-churning, dirty shit. Not a very much "lady-like" job, some would express. For that, you have earned yourself the title of a gritty woman. Maybe because you were gritty, maybe because you were a woman.
Sometimes, though, you find yourself wondering why you turned down some run-of-the-mill desk job back in Virginia. It would’ve been a dull routine, for sure — hideous, even; but gossiping about some flash romance between two co-workers is less taxing than having to witness five rotting corpses at first daylight. 
"Jesus Christ," you lift your sunglasses to your head. Your partner, esteemed, weary agent Steve Murphy, turns around at the sound of your voice. 
“You’re up early.” he asserts, with a raised eyebrow. 
You purse your lips. “Had a bad night. Ran out of whisky at one am.” 
Not even Hugo, or Hughie for his gringo friends, could help you. You forgot that his daughter would be celebrating her birthday and his all-night store would be closed until the next morning. Normally, you would own an arsenal of alcohol, but it has been an abnormal week and a hell of a night —starting with the spiral of violence that has arisen in the streets of Medellin.
"Well, look at the bright side: your stomach is empty," Murphy mumbles.
Looking at the bodies in front of you, you can’t agree more: their hands are tied-up to the oxidated wire behind them, hanging by their arms. They are barefoot and scantily clad. There is a visible gunshot wound in all of their front heads, some flies are already hovering around the open flesh. A quick death to eternal torture, you suppose.
"When did you get the call?" you inquire.
He fiddles with his wristwatch. "About two hours ago." you only hum in response, keeping your eyes in front of you and paying no mind to Steve who only grows impatient at your silence. "You think this was Peña's job?" he adds.
You nod in denial. "If it was, it doesn't make sense." Not one bit. "Peña works underground, quiet, like a sneaky rat. I'd even say they're more well-behaved than most cartels. So why do this?"
Why such a declaration of violence? Why draw even more attention from the authorities? 
"Maybe he decided to toughen his punishments?” You scoff at his remark.
“He can do that without half the city knowing it. A ditch is much more subtle than a monument to death blocks from the US embassy.” 
Murphy smirks. “Seems that you have given it a thought before, Sarchie.” you narrow your eyes. He knows you hate that nickname. Your tendencies to boss him around had brought you consequences: the unofficial title of a Sargeant. Sarchie, shortened and friendly.
“Killing someone? Yes, you. Multiple times a day.” you put your sunglasses back on and walk away. The forensic police won’t be there until the next half hour, at least, and you are too disquiet to wait around. Plus, your stomach is growling, but Steve doesn’t need to know that. “We’re gonna need their names, I’ll see what I can find. You have a little chat with the coroner and see if they can speed up the autopsy. The sooner the better, ok?” you spot the smirk on his face. You know what he’s thinking. You shut your car's door and point a finger at him through the window. A clear warning sign in your eyes. “Shut the fuck up and do it.”
Happy hour. You give up on the investigation and stop off at ‘Chiquita’, a popular local bar near your place. The prices are cheap, the drinks aren’t that good but they do the job. The place is crowded — hot couples with wet, glowing skin grinding against each other. Happy or horny or both. You take a mental note to have some fun later. 
As you sip at your bourbon and crack your peanuts, you let yourself dwell on what you found out about your case. You finally got the names of your five guys. For that, much research wasn’t needed: All of them had their IDs in their pockets and they were exactly who you feared they were: no ones. No ties to any big names, no official involvement in any cartel — at the most, a few minor possession charges. As for weeks, your few clues have led to nowhere and the enigma surrounding the Medellin cartel seems to worsen with every minute that passes by.
You hate mysteries. Colombia’s full of them. 
You take your second bourbon in one smooth shot and ask for another. You grab a colombian peso from your wallet and slide it across the wood. Your eyes stop at the picture of your parents that you carry around. It’s tiny and worn, just like your relationship with them. They haven’t heard from you in weeks, a fair deal, if anyone asked. They don’t have to deal with their fucked up daughter and you can focus on your work filled with dead ends and a ghost that haunts you while you’re awake: Javier Peña.
“¹Qué tomas, preciosa?” a velvety voice caresses your ears. A pleasant smile breaks quietly over your lips. Just in time.
You turn your head to the side. The stranger, with chocolate-skin and inviting eyes, is waiting for an answer. You tap your fingers against the glass.
"Bourbon," you say. "²Pero no me vendría mal un trago más." he grins and holds up two fingers to the barman. He sits at the empty seat beside you, he’s exuberating confidence. He’s offered you the bait and you'd taken it.
"³Algo más que se te ofrezca?"
You look him in the eyes. You know how the story goes from there. It isn’t any different than the one from last night, or the night before. As an apex predator, he's out for something to satisfy his hunger. He won't go home without reaching his goal and you're desperate enough to let him.
"⁴Sí. Hay algo más que puedes hacer por mi."
The fucking cat on the window has been staring straight into your eyes for the last fifteen minutes. Matias, the guy you've met hours before, is too focused on you to notice the awkward presence of the animal, so you don't bother shooing it away. 
He's enjoying himself, pounding into you in a symphony of lust bites and moans. But the sound of skin on skin doesn't match the intensity of your passion for this encounter.
It's not that his performance was terrible, it was just... soft. So soft, too soft. From the sweet nothings, he gasps on your ear to the gentleness of his grip on your hip. 
You aren't a sweet girl. If you were sweet, you wouldn't have traveled all the way down to Colombia to participate in the war on drugs. If you were fond of delicateness, you would've stayed inside and touched yourself to a Cristina Peri Rossi novel instead of searching for strangers at bars.
You don't like to believe you are a special case. On the contrary, you assume your attitude is the rule and not the exception. Not a hell of a woman, but a woman made of hell – waking up already worried about the hours ahead of you. How could you not? Your life is as wide and empty as the sky. Unstable, unpredictable. Anything can happen. A good meaningless fuck is the only moment you allow yourself to feel something — someone. By then, the detachment that gets you through the day disappears and raw feral emotion takes its place. 
You are addicted. It's like a drug, but worse. Drugs don't have feelings, people do.
You’d grabbed Matias' hand and wrapped it around your neck a few times but your request had been ignored; you’d even pushed his ass against your body so you could get closer to a feral touch, but he had insisted on something more caring and delicate. 
And delicacy just won't do. 
So, after a few tries, you give up. You lay still, under his heating body, dead eyes directed at your window. No emotion whatsoever, no release. Like a numb, stiff sex doll, rooting for his satisfaction. Forgotten until next time.
“⁵Donde?” he blurts in your ear. You evaluate your options quickly. 
“⁶Adentro.” Any other place would demandsñ more attention. By then, he would be aware of your passivity and asking too many questions. You don't answer questions, you make them.
His body tenses and trembles. You feel heat dripping between your legs but it doesn't come from you. He leaves a few small pecks on your neck — thankfully, the last ones for the night. Matias breathes over you for a few seconds before he gets off. You stare at the roof in silence, and when he asks if you finished, you simply nod.
You can't grasp what he says under his breath after you ask him, as nice as possible, to leave. What he does or doesn't vocalize, it doesn't matter. You won't be repeating with him. You never fucked the same person twice. 
Once you hear the front door shut, still resting on your bare skin, you lit a cigarette. The room is void of artificial light, and the cat is still in the same place, with his silhouette contoured by the gleam of the moon.
"Sneaky bastard." you chuckle, then get up from the bed and slowly approach it.
You stop at the wooded frame of the window, maintaining your distance. Not too close to scare him or him to scare you. He isn't a friendly guy. He isn't even yours — just a grumpy cat that stops by your department too often demanding some food. You tried to get him to come inside before, but all you had won from your offers were a couple of scratches. Nonetheless, the cat has seen more of you than many people have. So, even though you renegade from him, you found yourself inevitably attached. He's the closest thing to a family, after Murphy, of course. But Murphy hasn't seen you on your worst, yet.
"Hope you see the same shit I see." you grimace and shake your head. "Not like that, I mean... I should choose better who to fuck with. And they should choose better too." the cat remains silent –obviously– and you keep talking. "You could make yourself useful and spook them away before I have to." he meows, you roll your eyes and decide to leave him alone. "Then again, I could do it myself if I told them I hold long conversations with the stray cat that lives in my window."
You choose to take a bath and call it a night. You glide through the living room, though before you can reach the bathroom something stops you. There's a noise outside, some glass breaking down on the streets. You can ignore it, conflict isn't a foreign subject in Colombia, especially at late hours. But then it repeats itself a second time, and the third bugs you too much for you not to grab your night robe and take a look at it from your window.
The only light pole is out of order; there's not a soul in sight; music can be heard from afar. You see nothing out of place until you do.
Your car is parked across the street. All four windows have been smashed, the tires are flat. You barely waste time cursing before you flee out of your place. You thought the night couldn’t get worse but the world has a disturbing obsession with testing your patience. 
Once you take a step outside and approach your damaged car, you’re not sure where your chills are coming from. Perhaps, because of the unfriendly weather or maybe because you’re suddenly aware of how idiotic was your decision to go outside. 
Everything inside your vehicle is left untouched. There weren't objects of value anyways. You find no logical reason for someone wanting to wreck a car just because —yours, of them all.
Big red warning signs color your mind. Your eyes scan your surroundings with speed. It's a dark, lonely dessert. You're now sure that what happened isn't some random event. The victim could've been to another person, but you weren't just another person.
"⁷Discúlpeme, señorita." a voice throws yourself far from the source. You reach for your gun just to find nothing there. Damn you. "⁸Está bien?" you look at the man. An old man that, at first glance, doesn't represent a threat. His voice is gentle, his voice is tinted with a caring voice. You lower your defenses, just a bit, not enough to stay around.
"⁹Sí." you mutter.
Slowly, you walk back to your apartment. Old man glues his eyes to your form and you don't take your own off from his'. Before reaching the sidewalk, you trip with something. Your back collides against a car and you're ready to apologize when the owner exits it there’s not a sign of rage in his face. On the contrary, his stare is blank and his mouth doesn’t even twitch.
Bad news.
You intend to run, but another guy blocks your passage and two more appear at each side of you. You turn over to ask the old man for help, but he’s gone along with your last piece of hope. Can’t blame him, you would’ve escaped too if you had the chance. However, you can’t and the smartest thing to do is acknowledge it and work from it. 
You stay still thinking it will persuade them to opt for gentle treatment. 
How naive of you. 
A set of fingers dig into your arms, another one grabs you by the neck and lowers your head as they drag you into their car. Guarded by two of them who sit at your sides, a dark cloth bag is placed over your head and your wrists are restricted with a zip tie. 
All you have left now is your hearing, you pick up a few things: the engine roaring, the tires burning on the asphalt as you speed off, some spanish words thrown in the air. Nothing substantial, nothing of use.
You sit in silence and wait for the worst.
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platoniclokiimagines · 4 months ago
Maybe an imagine where the reader sucks at showing empathy and can't comfort anyone?
WC: 797
TW: none
A/N: This is kind of short, but I hope you enjoy, regardless. c:
You’d never really been any good at the business of relating to others when they were upset or having a bad day.
Even with the friends you’d known your entire life, you just didn’t seem to be able to offer the same kind of advice as anyone else did when they were in an emotional rut and needed some loving support.
And it wasn’t for a lack of trying. You truly did do the best you could. It’s just that the best you could was often the equivalent of putting a band-aid on a broken leg and calling it fixed: insufficient and an all-around poor attempt.
You were grateful that, in your time at the compound, you’d never really had to address your… deficiency, with anyone else on the team. Bad days were few and far between, for most of the group, and even when they weren’t, Steve always seemed to know what to say or do to cheer up whoever was down, and that did the trick, more often than not.
However, when it came to Loki, no one seemed brave enough to even try to just be around when Loki was in a mood. They were still rather new to being, for all intents and purposes, an Avenger, and their presence at the compound was still something that everyone was getting used to. Even Thor, who’d been around Loki most of his life, seemed to think it was best to just let Loki do what they needed when they were upset.
Despite all of your inability to be helpful in such matters, though, you just didn’t feel right that no one, not even Steve Rogers, who always had a silver lining, even wanted to try, and so with the likely consequences very apparent in your mind, you found yourself wandering to the secluded corner of the library that Loki had all but claimed as their own.
Hesitantly, you approached the seat they were slouched in, unsure if you should say anything to make your presence known, so instead, you awkwardly stood there, like you were waiting for Loki to notice you first.
Whether or not they did, they made no comment on it, and eventually, you cleared your throat, and took an awkward step closer.
“…can I sit with you?“
“…..I really can’t stop you.”
You nodded a bit to yourself, trying not to let Loki’s shortness get to you. That’s just how Loki was when in a mood.
You sat down in the armchair opposite of Loki, and for a long while just watched as they pointedly looked out the window. If ever there were to be a definition of petulant, Loki’s slouched, closed-off demeanor would be the picture right there next to it.
Unable to bear the awkward silence for much longer, you heaved a quiet sigh.
“…do you…. want to talk about it?”
Loki answered a little too quickly, and left no real room for argument, and you let loose a modest stream of expletives in your head.
Loki was not making this any easier.
“…okay, well do you want a distraction? We could…” You were losing steam as quickly as you had gained it, and you looked around, clamoring to find something to talk about. “…weather’s nice. Sunny, but still chilly out. But not too chilly, just… nice chilly. Like, you’d really only need a little cardigan, or a jumper.”
Loki paid you absolutely no mind, and you decided to cut to the chase, and get the awkwardness out of the way.
“Look, I’m not good at… this. Making people feel better when they’re sad and stuff, but… no one else wanted to try, and that felt wrong, and not doing anything myself felt wrong, too, so… So maybe we can just sit here together in silence, and I won’t talk about the weather, and you won’t talk about what’s bothering you, and it’ll just be quiet, but we’ll be together.” You heaved out a sigh, and looked up at Loki. “…that work?”
For a long moment, Loki said nothing, and you worried that you had said the wrong thing, or had possibly made the mood even worse than it already was. But after a while, they looked up at you, the smallest hint of earnestness in their voice when they spoke.
“…I’d appreciate the company very much.”
You were, in a word, shocked. You really hadn’t expected that to work, let alone be what Loki wanted, and all you could do was nod once in acknowledgement before turning your gaze politely to the window as well, so as not to make Loki uncomfortable.
You weren’t entirely sure how long Loki wanted to sit there, but you were ready to spend all day with them, if that’s what it took.
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Somewhere In Romania
(Aricka x Bucky Barnes)
(Aricka is the first one to find Bucky post CA:WS.)
(Bucky is 28. Aricka is 19. A nine year age gap.)
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* Bucharest, Romania *
He was there- he was buying plums.
19 year old Aricka Rogers was watching Bucky from afar- at a cafe while reading the newspaper. He was smart- he’d be able to see through her ruse easily. Aricka just hoped that he would be willing to see her.
Bucky left the stand and she slipped off, silent as a shadow, following him from the rooftops. Just as silent she slipped into the window she knew belonged to his apartment.
He was waiting for her. “You followed me,” he says. Aricka sat on the ledge of the window, one leg still out of it.
“Think I was just gonna let you go after 70 years?” She asks. “I needed to see- needed to see for myself that it was really you and not just some hallucination.”
Bucky looked her up and down before nodding and siting down. “Shut the window- you’ll let all the air out.” Aricka smirked and climbed in the whole way.
“Sound like your ma,” she says, shutting the window. “She’d yell at you constantly all the time cause you’d never shut the door right away. Drove Stevie nuts.” Aricka sat on the ground a few feet from him and looked up at him. “Your hair’s a lot longer since the last time we saw each other.”
“Yeah well you look the same,” he says. “You really didn’t age did you?”
“Yeah- super soldier serum does that to you,” she says softly. “Bucky- Jamie- what did they do to you?” And there- private name spilt, uttered for only his ears, word she hasn’t spoken in over 70 years- there came the emotion buried all that time.
He looked at her and she could see the boy she got engaged to hiding there. He was still there, just- hiding. “I can’t remember everything,” he says. “But if I didn’t do what they said they’d make me sit in this chair and get wiped- they’d wipe my memory. I never forgot you though- they must’ve thought that wasn’t important enough to make me forget.” Slowly she moved closer so she was knelt in front of him. “It was what kept me sane at night- remembering all I could about you- how you liked chocolate but not nougat, how your hair would frame your face like a halo under a streetlight. How it felt to hold you.” She hesitantly took his hand and he let her, squeezed her hand even. “But then one day it felt more like I’d imagined you all along- like you weren’t real. Seeing you there on the bridge- I wanted to run to you, wanted to demand answers, but I couldn’t.”
Aricka swallows harshly, forcing down the urge to cry, and said, “It wasn’t your fault. You were forced- they made you do all that.”
Bucky stared at her for a solid five minutes. “You still see the best in everything don’t you?” He asked in wonder. “How has time not jaded you?”
Aricka laughed breathlessly. “I was in the ice for like- 70?- years. I’m still getting used to having a pocket sized phone. Yeah things seem rough but I’m here, if you want me to be. I’ll leave right now if you tell me to. But I’m here.”
He gave her one of those looks again and she bit her lip, heart in her throat. “I don’t want you to go,” he finally said. “I need answers- but you have to be ready to go when I am.”
“I understand- I’ve only got one backpack full of stuff,” she says. Hesitantly she reached up to brush a strand of hair behind his ear. His left hand caught hers- and gently he kissed her palm. Aricka closed her eyes and sighed. “I’ve got another question for you,” she said, “do you know who I am to you? Besides Steve’s kid sister?”
Without missing a beat he replied, “You’re my best girl.” Aricka laughed- or sobbed, she couldn’t tell- and threw caution to the wind to hug him. “Again with the waterworks?” He asked with no bite behind it. “I missed you too,” he said softer this time.
“70 years,” she whispered. “I was so lonely- I thought you were dead, Jamie. And then- then Steve said he saw you, and I had hope again- then we were on the helicarrier, and you- you saw me. I wanted to run away then and follow you but I had to debrief and pack a bag. Then I had to track you down- and you really don’t stay in one place long do you?- and now I’m here.”
“I’ve got a question for you now,” he says. “I remember a ring- do you still have it?” Aricka nods and pulls out a chain from under her shirt. On that chain was a simple engagement ring with a circular diamond- the cheapest but prettiest ring Jamie could afford with his meager earnings. He’d kept it hidden and safe and was going to ask her when he came back from the war- then she became the Element of Surprise.
He proposed the night before he fell from the train.
Aricka quickly unclasped the chain and held out the ring to him. “I took it off my finger the night after- you know. I want you to put it back on my finger where it belongs. Only when you’re ready.”
Bucky looked at the ring and then back and her, before cupping her hand in his and gently sliding the ring on. “I promise you,” he says, once it was secure in her finger. “As soon as we get out of here and we can safely do so, and all my issues are taken care of, I’ll get you that dream wedding you always wanted.”
Aricka laughed a watery laugh. “I love you James Buchanan Barnes,” she whispered. “You don’t have to say it back, I just want you to know.”
That look of wonder filled his eyes again and he cupped her face in his hand. “What was what song we used to listen to?” He hummed a few notes of the song and she smiled, and softly sang,
“Kiss me once, then kiss me twice
Then kiss me once again
It's been a long, long time
Haven't felt like this, my dear
Since I can't remember when
It's been a long, long time
You'll never know how many dreams
I've dreamed about you
Or just how empty they all seemed without you
So kiss me once, then kiss me twice
Then kiss me once again
It's been a long, long time..”
“You still sing prettier than that Snow White girl,” he says; Aricka blushed and looked away.
“I could never...” she moved so she was sitting cross legged on the floor. “So. Tell me everything you remember, and I’ll help you fill in the gaps. And then I’ll tell you everything I’ve learned about the 21st century.”
“That’s a fair trade, I suppose,” he says. And for the next two hours, Aricka and Bucky traded facts and information. Aricka felt her phone vibrate several times, but ignored it. Steve could wait one more hour.
She’d already waited 70 years for this day.
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